I tell her to whore herself out.

****

Author's warning to readers. Please note that on this path, Sarah toys with Wiley's feelings for Liam's benefit. She still will never intend to hurt Wiley (and if she ever found out how much this is hurting Wiley, she would stop). But until then, Wiley will get toyed with. If you don't want to read that, you should go to the other route.

****

I stare at my phone screen, the text from Sarah burning a hole in my brain. The idea hits me like a freight train—her arriving completely naked, giving that fat nerd exactly what he's always wanted without making him earn it. My fingers tremble as I type back.

"Be naked for him. Show up with nothing on. Let him see everything the moment he opens the door."

The response comes almost immediately: "Really? You sure?"

"Yes. The thought of you naked for that perverted asshole... just do it."

My heart is pounding so hard I can barely think straight. I pace around our apartment, checking my phone every few seconds, imagining her driving to his place, imagining what he'll do when he sees her. It's ****, but I can't stop myself from wanting it.

A few hours later, my phone buzzes with an incoming FaceTime call. I answer it so quickly I nearly drop the device.

"Hey," Sarah whispers, her face close to the camera. She's in her car, streetlights occasionally illuminating her features as she drives. "I have you muted so you can see and hear me, but I can't hear you. I'm just down the road from Wiley’s house."

My mouth goes dry as she props the phone up on her dashboard. She glances around, making sure no one can see into her car, then begins unbuttoning her blouse, before slipping it over her head, revealing the lacy bra underneath, and folding it neatly on the passenger seat. I had to remark that her lacy bra looked so sexy on her that it was almost a shame that Wiley wasn’t going to see it as he slowly unclasped it and set it on top of her blouse. Slowly, deliberately, she removes each piece of clothing, folding them neatly on the passenger seat.

"This is for you," she whispers to the camera. "Everything I do with him is really for you."

When she's completely naked, she checks her makeup in the rearview mirror, runs her fingers through her hair, and then puts the car back in drive. I watch, mesmerized and tormented, as she approaches Wiley's house, the streetlights casting shadows across her bare skin.

"I'm here," she says softly. "I love you, Liam."

She picks up the phone, giving me one last view of her naked body before tucking the device into her purse, positioned so the camera can still see out. Through the small opening, I catch glimpses of her walking up to Wiley's front door, completely exposed to the night air, to the neighbors, to him.

My Sarah, about to knock on another man's door without a stitch of clothing on her body.

She knocks confidently, three sharp raps that seem to echo through my phone speaker. I hold my breath, watching through the limited frame of her purse camera as the porch light illuminates her naked silhouette. The door opens, and I can just make out Wiley's shape in the doorway.

“Oh… FUCK!!! Sarah…”I hear him gasp. His voice sounds strangled, disbelieving.

Sarah says nothing. The purse swings slightly as she moves forward. I can't see much, just fragments of the scene—the edge of Wiley's doorframe, a sliver of his living room, the brief shadow of Sarah's arm extending.

"Sarah, what—" Wiley stammers, but his words cut off abruptly.

I hear rustling, movement. The purse camera shifts, showing glimpses of what must be Sarah pulling Wiley's hands to her body. Her breathing grows heavier, more deliberate.

"Touch me," she commands, her voice firm yet seductive. "Remember how I felt?"

The purse camera jerks wildly as Wiley tries to back into his house, pulling away from Sarah's exposed body on his front porch.

"Ww… we need to go inside," he hisses, his voice a panicked whisper.

Sarah plants her feet, the purse swinging with her movement as she holds her ground in the cool night air. Through the small opening, I can see her naked silhouette against the porch light, refusing to budge from the doorstep.

"Sa... Sa... Sarah..." Wiley stutters, his protest weakening as Sarah captures his trembling hand and deliberately drags it across her chest. "The neighbors could—"

His words dissolve into a groan as Sarah guides his fingers over her nipples, hardened from the night air. The camera catches glimpses of her arching into his touch.

"I thought you wanted this," she breathes, her voice husky and challenging. "I thought you wanted to fuck me, Wiley."

The purse sways again as Sarah's free hand disappears from view. Wiley makes a choked sound, and I realize she's reaching into his pants, her fingers wrapping around him.

“oh fuck Sara-bear.” he gasps, all resistance evaporating.

What happens next is a blur of motion and sound. The purse camera swings wildly, occasionally capturing flashes of skin, of Sarah's back pressed against the porch column, of Wiley's hands gripping her thighs as he lifts her. Their breathing grows ragged, punctuated by Sarah's soft moans and Wiley's disbelieving groans.

"Right here," Sarah commands, her voice thick with desire. "I want you to lose control and fuck me RIGHT HERE!"

The sounds that follow leave no doubt about what's happening. The rhythmic movements, the breathless gasps, Sarah's voice rising as she urges him on. Through the purse camera, I catch a glimpse of her face, her head thrown back in ecstasy, her lips parted.

"Yes, yes, yes," she chants, each word punctuated by the sound of their bodies meeting.

Wiley's voice is a broken litany of her name and pleas and curses. The whole scene is raw, primal, nothing like the careful, calculated encounter I had imagined.

"Look at me," Sarah demands suddenly. "Look at me while you fuck me."

The purse shifts again, and I can see just enough to make out Sarah's hand gripping Wiley's face, forcing him to maintain eye contact as their bodies move together on his front porch, exposed to the night and potentially to any curious neighbor.

Their pace quickens, grows more ****. Sarah's moans become sharper, higher.

"I'm close," she gasps. "Don't stop, don't you dare stop."

Wiley makes a strangled sound, clearly trying to hold back, to make it last.

"Come with me," Sarah commands, and there's something in her voice I've never heard before—a raw authority that seems to break something in Wiley.

They climax together, their cries mingling in the night air. Through the purse camera, I catch a final glimpse of them, Sarah's body going rigid before collapsing against Wiley, his arms wrapping around her as they both struggle to catch their breath.

The silence that follows is broken only by their ragged breathing and the distant sound of a car passing on the street.

"Now," Sarah says finally, her voice sounding satisfied and amused, "we can go inside."

The purse moves as they stumble through the doorway. I hear the door close behind them, and then Sarah's voice, softer now: "That was just the beginning."