Reward Alexis

The air around the dining table grows heavy and still, the sound of silverware scraping against porcelain becoming distant and hollow as you concentrate your essence behind Alexis.

She is your most enthusiastic ally, and as she sips her wine, watching her sister squirm under the weight of Mike’s name, you decide to turn the predatory heat she’s been projecting back onto her.

You sink into the back of Alexis’s mind, bypassing the witty, cynical layers she uses as armor. You reach for her deepest, most unfiltered desire—the one that doesn't care about propriety or family bonds.

Alexis blinks, and for a heartbeat, the room blurs. Her subconscious doesn't choose the rigid, predictable Chad. Instead, her gaze settles on her sister, Cherie.

In Alexis's vision, Cherie’s conservative blouse and the domestic setting of the dinner table melt away. She sees her sister sitting there completely nude, her skin flushed a deep, frantic rose from the internal battle she's fighting against her own lust. Alexis sees the way Cherie’s breasts heave with her shallow breaths, the nipples hardened—not by the air, but by the medieval fantasies you've been feeding her.

Alexis’s breath hitches. She’s always known her sister was beautiful, but seeing her like this—exposed, ****, and clearly wanting—triggers a primal surge of arousal in her.

As Alexis’s eyes glaze over, locked onto the vision of her naked sister, you manifest. You don't become visible, but you condense your essence into two firm, cool weights that settle over her breasts from behind.

Alexis gasps, her hand flying to her throat as she feels your invisible fingers curve around her. You aren't gentle; you knead the soft tissue through the thin silk of her robe and the lace of her bra, your thumbs flicking across her peaks with a rhythmic, spectral friction.

Under the table, Alexis’s legs snap shut, her toes curling against the hardwood. She is paralyzed by the sensation—the icy, static-charged touch of a ghost fondling her while her brother-in-law sits three feet away, complaining about a zoning permit.

"Alexis? Is the chicken okay?" Chad asks, looking up at her with a furrowed brow. "You look like you're having a stroke."

Alexis can't answer immediately. She’s leaning back into your touch, her head tilting slightly as she drinks in the vision of a nude Cherie and the reality of your hands on her body. A low, shaky sound escapes her throat—halfway between a moan and a laugh.

"It's... it's incredible, Chad," she finally manages, her voice thick and trembling. She reaches back with one hand, ostensibly to adjust her hair, but her fingers brush the cold, dense air where your wrist would be. She winks at the empty space beside her. "Everything in this house is just... so much more flavorful than I expected."

Cherie looks at her sister, sensing the shift in the room. She sees the way Alexis’s chest is heaving and the wild, glazed look in her eyes. She feels a sudden, sympathetic throb in her own core, as if your touch on Alexis is echoing through the house’s shared connection.