Imagine if Joe saw

The video keeps playing on Marcus's phone, propped against a stack of books on his nightstand. The room is dark except for the glow of the screen, and Izzy sits cross-legged on the edge of his bed, the white micro skirt and pink tube top still folded in her lap. She hasn't put them on yet. She's just watching.

Marcus leans back in his chair, arms crossed, a half-empty beer resting on his thigh. He doesn't look at her. He looks at the screen, where the woman who looks like her is on her back now, knees hooked over his shoulders, the white knee-high socks catching the light.

"You know," Marcus says, his voice flat, almost amused, "if Joe ever saw this, he'd think you and I have been going at it for months. Same hair, same body, same little sounds you make."

Izzy's jaw tightens. She doesn't look away from the screen. "I don't make those sounds."

"You do," Marcus says, not missing a beat. "I've heard you through the wall when you think I'm asleep."

Izzy's cheeks burn, but she doesn't argue. She watches the woman on the screen arch her back, her hand fisting in the sheets, and she feels something twist low in her belly. It's not disgust. It's not even embarrassment. It's a slow, creeping curiosity that she doesn't want to name.

"Keep watching," Marcus says, taking a sip of his beer. "She's about to cum. I want you to see how she does it before you put the outfit on. So you know what Joe's gonna be looking at."

The video ends with Marcus creampieing her after filling up countless condoms. This is it. This is the outfit…

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