Queen of FUTA: Chapter 5

Annette’s private jet lands at yet another airport. It’s time for more meetings, this time with production companies. Why? You don’t know. But you’ll be rejoining the press tour after today. The flight was too short for Annette to have anything planned with a beautiful stewardess, although she does tease you a bit about your night with Tess. Apparently it was quite obvious to her when you met up this morning that you had been sucked completely dry.

Tess is amazing in bed. You have done some wild things since you found yourself being so hung, but you have never jizzed your brains out like that before. You drink some fluids during the flight, and your thoughts keep straying back to Tess.

Before you get off the plane, Annette receives a text.

“Uh oh,” she says, stopping you from going to the door. “Looks like we have to wait.”

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“I don’t know. We just have to wait.”

For another half hour, you sit on the plane with Annette, texting your mom. You tell her that the tour is fun, and you don’t talk about the things you’ve been getting up to. You wonder what Tess is doing right now.

The day only gets weirder. You finally get off the plane, but instead of the usual nice cars that drive you and Annette around, this time it’s a big SUV. They take you to the hotel, where Annette takes you straight to a suite on the top floor. This is unusual; you normally have separate rooms officially, but just tend to end up in hers or yours.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” you ask as you pick up the room service menu and she puts her laptop bag on the table. This hotel gives you a nice view of Seattle. You don’t remember why you’re in Seattle, but here you are.

“Some kind of security thing,” Annette says, a bit dismissively.

FUTA does have security. You never pay attention to it, but it’s there. It’s not like you and Annette have a bodyguard or anything, though.

“What kind of security thing?” you press.

“We just need to stay here for a while,” she says. “Until they’re sure it’s safe. It’s nothing serious, Riley.” She’s already setting up her laptop. It figures; if Annette is stuck in this room, she’s going to get some work done. “Someone got into the network and looked some stuff up.”

“That means we’re in danger?”

“We’re not in danger,” she assures you. “Just relax. We’ll get it cleared up. I’m going to go to a meeting in a few minutes, but you stay here.”

“Why’s it safe for you to go and not me?” you ask.

Annette hesitates.

You aren’t a genius detective or anything, but you can put two and two together.

“The thing that got looked up,” you say slowly. “Was it me?”

“You’re popular, Riley. Our people are just going to make sure that you don’t have a…” Annette sighs and rolls her eyes. “Psycho stalker or something.”

“Gosh,” you say, stunned. Yikes.

Annette shoots you a smile. “You should take it as a compliment. If I was going to be a psycho stalker, I’d totally be one for…”

“Stop it,” you say, blushing.

“…Adella,” she finishes.

“Oh my god.” You flop on the couch and open the menu. Fine. If you’re stuck here, you’re going to spend all of Annette’s money. After some food, you soak in the tub and text your mom a bit. You don’t tell her about the security thing; you don’t want to worry her.

As you leave the steamy bathroom wearing a fluffy hotel robe, someone knocks at the door. Puzzled, but interested, you go to answer it. Anything is better than lying around watching TV.

The woman in the hallway is not a stranger. You’ve seen her at FUTA at some point, although she was dressed differently at the time. She was with Annette, and you figured she was a producer or something because she looked so rich and fancy.

She looks that way now, although she’s a touch disheveled. She’s your height and slim, but with more natural curves and a softer, more womanly bearing. Her hair is short and black, she’s delicately beautiful and oozes confidence. She wears a short, tight red dress and glossy, black stocking sheathe her perfect legs.

She stands with her hand on one hip, looking at you expectantly.

“Can I come in?” she asks.

“Um,” you say. “You’re with FUTA, right?”

“You could say that. I’m your bodyguard,” she says with a little eye roll, stepping past you. You shut the door, embarrassed about your robe and wet hair. “Just until they get this figured out.”

Gosh. This is even worse than if you were stuck here alone. At least by yourself you could masturbate or be lazy. Now that this classy goddess lady is here, you feel like you have to be, like, dignified.

You end up on the bed, watching TV. This woman is effortlessly confident and relaxed. She sits with her legs elegantly folded in the chair beside the bed, looking at her phone. You’re watching a documentary instead of a real movie because you want her to think you’re smart. It’s probably not working. She’s already raided the mini bar and has a bottle of beer, but she’s barely drunk any.

You get up and go to the bar. A drink or two always makes you more relaxed. It’ll make the time pass less awkwardly. You mix yourself a very lazy rum and coke and return to sit on the edge of the bed and learn about this Winter War thing. It’s pretty interesting.

“Oh no,” the woman says with a sigh.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Looks like they’re taking their time. I’m going to be here for a while longer.” She puts her phone down and gets to her feet, stretching. That is fascinating to watch. “Sorry, kid. I need to clean up. It’s been a busy day. I’m taking your bathroom.”

“I don’t care,” you say automatically.

But you care a second later. She doesn’t actually go all the way to the bathroom before she starts taking her clothes off. You stare like an idiot as she unzips her little red dress, revealing a smooth, creamy back. Then it’s off, and you can see it all: her black lingerie, complete with garters.

You have enough sense to hunch forward a bit to hide the situation growing inside your robe, but not enough sense to look away.