A Promise and a Vow

As we sat; with me between Joe and Iris, one hand interlaced with hers beneath the linen tablecloth, fingers entwined tightly, the other resting high on Joe’s thigh, palm flat and teasing, fingertips brushing the thickening ridge behind his tux pants; Sabrina swept in like a fever dream made real.

She looked nothing like someone who’d just owned 20,000 screaming fans; singing every word back to her, ourselves included. Her skin still shimmered with the faint afterglow of stage lights and sweat, her eyes burning bright; alive, mischievous, hungry. Her smile lit the alcove like a match struck in the dark, effortless and devastating.

Joe stood immediately; gentleman to the core; and moved to pull out her chair. He always did this, no matter who. Iris and I exchanged a quick, knowing smile across the table; our eyes catching on the way his shoulders filled the black tux, the way his hands moved with grace.

Sabrina looked at us in mock shock, pressing a hand to her chest. “Ladies, you didn’t tell me he was such a gentleman,” she said brightly, voice warm and teasing, laced with something darker underneath.

She was dwarfed by Joe; he stood over a foot taller, broad shoulders filling the space. She reached up on her toes, tugged him down gently, and pressed a soft peck to his cheek; lips leaving a faint gloss mark on his skin. Joe smiled; quiet, charmed; a quick flush of pink hitting his cheeks as she sat. “I hope you enjoyed the concert,” she continued as Joe took his seat next to her, Emily and I flanking his right side.

I watched his confidence bloom again; he was alone with three women, all of us with eyes on him, at least two of us undressing him in our minds, imagining peeling that tux off inch by inch, feeling that thick cock stretch us until we were trembling and begging.

“It was amazing,” Joe said, voice low and genuine. “You did too much.”

She shook her head, smiling wider. “They told me you’d say that. That you’re too humble to accept nice things.” The waiter poured sake into our cups; warm, fragrant, amber liquid catching the light. “Guilty,” Joe replied, lifting his cup in a small toast. “Still… thank you for everything.”

He took a sip, adjusted his seat closer to the table, and leaned forward slightly. “But I have to say; this isn’t the usual way a client comes my way. And these two,” he gestured toward Iris and me with a fond look, “have been super tight-lipped about what you want me for.”

My mind screamed the filthy answer I couldn’t say aloud: I want you to fuck her on this table; right here, right now, while I watch and touch myself, then join in so we can both taste you after you fill her.

Iris shrugged her shoulders beside me, playing innocent, but her fingers squeezed mine under the table; hard, needy, her palm damp with shared anticipation.

“We wouldn’t be here if I wasn't good at what I do,” Iris admitted proudly. She’d always had a knack for picking the right projects; the ones that would light up Joe’s creative fire. Tonight was no different.

“Well… I’ve followed your work,” Sabrina started, leaning in, elbows on the table, cleavage pressing against the edge of her dress. “That spread you did with Hanna Davis was breathtaking. And I’ve heard you’ve worked with Melissa Barrera?”

Joe nodded. “That was another Vanity Fair project. I’ve worked with them a lot since the Women of Marvel shoot I did for them.”

“Well, you’re well respected, and your work reflects that,” she said, eyes sparkling.

Joe fully blushed now; cheeks pink, ears red. “Well… thank you, Sabrina. If this project is anything like your concert, I’m sure Irie and Emmy made the right choice.”

The three of us shared a look; silent, triumphant. Tonight was going exactly like we’d planned.

As the waiters cleared our plates, Joe’s jaw went slack... Sabrina had finished her pitch.

“Fully backed,” he repeated, voice almost a whisper.

Sabrina, Iris, and I all smiled. “You’re the captain of this ship.” Sabrina finished.

A book had always been one of Joe’s dreams; he’d wanted to publish his work, to own his shots, to have something that was truly his. Freelance contracts had always let him take smaller personal projects, but he still answered to higher-ups. Now he was the higher-up. With Sabrina standing beside him.

“Just tell us what you need,” Iris promised, voice soft but fierce, “and I’ll move mountains to get them for you.”

Sabrina looked at her, then back at Joe. “You’ve got a hell of an assistant there, Joe.”

Joe smiled at Iris; eyes full of appreciation, pride, love. “Partner,” he corrected gently.

Iris tucked her head, cheeks flushing; humble just like him.

Sabrina slapped her hands together. “Great… let’s talk about this rider you’re so hesitant to fill out.”

Iris excused herself quietly while Joe and Sabrina dove into logistics; the cross-country tour we’d be tagging along on, three months, seven cities: Chicago, Miami, Dallas, capping in Italy. I watched her go, silver dress shimmering, hips swaying, and felt that pull again; sharp, insistent, undeniable.

When I slipped in behind her a minute later, she was at the sink; hands braced on the marble, shoulders trembling slightly. It was ridiculous how beautiful she looked even under restroom lights; skin glowing, eyes glassy, lips parted.

She turned as I entered; eyes welling with tears. “I’m so excited for him, this proje-”

Her words cut off when my hand slid between her thighs. Her sex was slick and warm through the thin fabric of her dress; no panties, just like me. A gasp escaped her lips. “Emmy… ooh… I…” she stammered, thighs trembling.

“You heard me and Joe, earlier, fucking in the dressing room, didn’t you?” I asked, voice low and husky, finger sliding between her folds, rubbing slow circles at her entrance.

Iris nodded; eyes heavy, breath hitching; as my finger dipped inside her, “And at the hotel…” she moaned softly, "ooh...god."

My mouth dropped open slightly; I hadn’t even thought about that. We certainly weren’t as quiet as we’d tried to be in the privacy of our suite. “We were a little loud, weren’t we?” I purred, leaning in, stepping on my toes so my heel slipped out of my fuck-me pumps. “You want him too, don’t you?” I demanded, sliding my finger deeper, thumb pressing her clit in slow, firm circles.

Her lips parted wider, eyes fluttering. “Oh god… I… I…” she whimpered as I added a second finger, curling them against her front wall, making her knees buckle as she nodded.

“It’s okay,” I assured her, tongue lapping slowly along her jawline, fighting the instinct to bite down and mark her. “I’ve thought about it too. You and me… together with him. Holding you while he gives himself to you.”

“Oh fuck,” she whispered, head dropping into my shoulder, hand gripping my wrist tight as I continued to finger her. Her hips rocked against my hand, chasing the rhythm.

“I want you in our room tonight, Irie,” I told her, breath hot against her ear. “In our bed. We both do.”

She pulled back just enough to look at me; eyes glassy, lips swollen, moaning soft and broken as my hand kept moving, getting soaked with her arousal. I was about to kiss her; when her eyes went wide.

In the mirror behind her, staring straight at us…

…was Sabrina.