IR Ever After - Part 3

“Is she here to kill us?” you murmur to Lara. “Because of what you did to her?”

“What I did? What about what you did?”

You bristle, indignant. “All I did was…” You lower your voice. “Cum on her.”

“Three times. Her face, her bum, and her tits. I counted,” Lara says, sounding a little panicked.

“Shush!”

It’s true, but Lara had… Done Things. Things that maybe didn’t sit well with a woman who considered herself the dom. Fru Satan had seemed to enjoy it at the time, though. And you never stopped suspecting that she wanted that outcome. You had thought that maybe she made that bet with Lara on purpose because she knew that you and Lara weren’t her normal customers and weren’t totally into the whole… suffering thing. Either that, or she liked the look of Lara’s dick and wanted some.

But you don’t know for sure. The fact that she’s come here and infiltrated the wedding suggests that you were way off base.

“We were wrong about her,” you mutter.

“She really is a psycho,” Lara agrees.

Fru Satan looks in your direction. You both turn around.

“Have you got a gun?” Lara asks. “Or a climbing axe? I can take care of this.”

“What? No. This is my wedding,” you snarl. “Just be cool. She’s just trying to scare us.”

“It’s not working,” Lara says obstinately. Her hand holding her glass shakes slightly.

“Just keep your shit together.”

“Don’t leave me. Where are you going?”

“I have to make sure Ingrid is safe.” You pull free of Lara and go to find her, coming face to face with Fru Satan. She’s not easy to recognize in a dress with jewelry and everything, but you are not wrong.

“Riley,” Ingrid says, making you jump. Beaming, she is suddenly at your side, squeezing your hand. “You have met Freja?”

“Um,” you reply stupidly, staring at Fru Satan. “Hi.”

“Hej hej,” Fru Satan replies.

Ingrid slides her arm around Fru Satan’s shoulders. “It is a surprise that Freja is here,” she says. Her English has come so far, but her accent is still so thick. “She is always working. Freja is an Actuary.”

“OK,” you say, dazed. Fru Satan makes direct eye contact as she firmly shakes your hand. “I’m Riley. Uh, how do you know each other?”

Ingrid gives you a look, and you realize that you have fucked up. You aren’t sure how, but you know that look. It’s the one that she gives you when you fuck something up.

But it’s her wedding. Ingrid recovers quickly, giving Fru Satan an apologetic look and a reassuring squeeze.

“Riley, this is Freja. We are cousins.”

Right. Right. You’re catching up. First, you didn’t think that extended family was going to be a pop quiz later; you’re not even good with American names. And second, yes. You remember her talking about Freja. You just… you know, pictured someone blonde. You’ve visited Ingrid’s home with her before, but Fru Satan has never been there.

Now you vaguely remember something about her being busy with work.

“Right. Right,” you say. “You grew up together.”

“We are like sisters,” Ingrid says reprovingly. OK, it sounds like she really did expect you to remember more of this. There’s always been a communication gap, usually after sex. She wants to talk, but you want to roll over and go to sleep. A lot of stuff has gotten missed because of that.

You swallow.

“Right. Right,” you keep repeating. Fru Satan still has your hand. Her grip is firm. Your hand is sweaty. “I’m sorry, uh, Freja. I’m sorry.”

Now Ingrid frowns at you.

“So sorry,” you whimper. She beams at you for a long moment, then there’s a slight narrowing of her eyes. Your stomach turns as she lets go of your hand and walks serenely away. You squeak in surprise as Ingrid takes your hand.

“Are you all right?” she asks, looking up at you. “Did you drink too much?”

“No. Not enough,” you reply. Then you make yourself look at her. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” she replies, looking puzzled. “Oh,” she says as you wrap your arms around her. You breathe the scent of her hair and hug her. Feeling better, you pull back and stroke her face. “Sorry. I’m sorry about that.”

“It is OK,” she says. She knows who she married.

“Is this all going OK?” you ask, indicating the wedding with your eyes.

“Of course,” she says, squeezing both of your hands. “It is perfect.”

[ The End? ]