Devil's Perverse Justice

Raindrops fell on the dark streets of the busy city.

Ashley left the subway and hoped to get home quickly. She felt chill running through her as the deluge assaulted her. With no umbrella to protect her, just a few steps were enough for her to be drenched.

In her twenties, her office job was mostly about completing assignments for others. It was soul-crushing at times, leaving her drained of energy by the end of the day. With a master's degree from a respected university, she expected more from life.

In her haste, she stumbled on her heel, leaving her purse flying through the air.

"Fuck me," she swore to herself.

A man stepped towards her and hid her from the rain using his umbrella.

Startled, she looked up at him.

He wore a suit and tie, somehow pristine despite the rain. His smile was disarmingly bright, too bright. As he knelt to pick up her purse, Ashley couldn’t help but stare. He was beautiful, and that unsettled her.

He continued to smile when he said, "Good evening, miss. I hope you will forgive me for being forward to assist you."

Gingerly, Ashley took her purse from him.

"Good evening," she said, looking into his eyes. They were all black and deep, making it easy to lose oneself in them.

"I am in a hurry," she added, taking a step away.

Ashley was usually confident, and it was unlike her to feel so nervous in any man's presence.

The man followed her, trying to keep her covered by his umbrella.

"For a lady such as yourself, it is dangerous to walk alone in the dark. Please allow me to accompany to at least to help you hide from the rain."

A part of Ashley just wanted to stride away without another word, but a bigger part was drawn to him.

"OK," she said finally.

She had no idea why she wasn't able to put together longer sentences. When she looked at him, it just became so hard to focus, and all sorts of thoughts were entering her mind.

Another chill ran through her body. It was cold outside, wet from the rain.

He gestured to her to lead the way so he could follow her.

Ashley shivered a little. Her skin was covered in goosebumps. She was dressed for business in a short skirt and a jacket, which did nothing to protect her from the weather. The fabric of her white shirt was doing nothing to hide the material of her lacy bra that was holding her large chest together.

Usually, her beauty was like an armor that she wore with confidence and used like a weapon when convenient.

Now, next to the handsome man, all wet and cold, she was feeling unsure of herself. But whenever she looked up at him, he would simply smile back at her brightly. Ashley didn't think that she had ever been with a man as beautiful as this.

"Why is he smiling like that? Or why am I reacting like this?" She wondered in her head.

Not to mention that, the man has not said another word to her. Perhaps he sensed that she was uncomfortable and was giving her some space.

"Thank god," she thought when she arrived home and saw her roommate was just in front of the house, taking out the trash.

George was a tall, nerdy-looking guy with messy brown hair. He was dressed in just shorts and a t-shirt.

His eyes did not seem to even register Ashley. Probably daydreaming about something again.

"Thank you, I will be alright now," Ashley said to the stranger, stopping in front of George.

The man looked towards her, fixing his perfectly combed hair. "I hope that you will arrange for a safer passage home in the future. Pretty girl like you should not be alone."

She looked into his eyes again, wondering about why he hadn't asked for her number or maybe even straight up to come up with her.

Just standing there without a response was becoming painfully awkward

"Yes, thank you," she quickly replied and ran through the door.

Ashley felt the need to distance herself quickly and avoid giving him a second look. Otherwise, she might return and just invite him in, even though she just met him.

Once she left, the stranger in a suit turned his eyes and bright smile towards George: "Good evening."

"Good evening," George replied, looking suspiciously. The whole situation with Ashley running and staring at that suit guy and then running away was creepy, but maybe it was someone from her work.

The stranger took a deep breath like there was some wonderful scent in the air, and not just the smell of the rain falling around him.

His eyes fixated on George when he asked: "What is it that you desire?"

***

When George was looking for a roommate, he imagined another guy, a gamer preferably. But when a beautiful girl reached out to live with him, he just could not say no. You wouldn't say no either, trust me. And that's how Ashley started living with him.

She was all smiles with the right amount of casual flirting to make him happy just to be in her company. Over time, Ashley found the quiet corners of George’s life and filled them without asking. It wasn’t one moment but hundreds of small ones.

In all truth, living with Ashley was not easy. At home, she was more than a little messy. She never did the dishes. Her stuff was everywhere. There was long blond hair on everything, and especially in the bathroom.

There was no hiding his snacks from her; she would always find them and eat them.

And she owed him money for not just the rent. He wouldn't usually borrow or give money to anyone, because he worried that money could sour any friendship, but Ashley had a way of slipping past his defenses.

She knew exactly how to play him. A compliment here, a fleeting touch there, a soft apology that felt like a gift. She pulled him in inch by inch, smiling each time he stumbled closer. Each night, when she smiled at him with that lazy half-interest, he found himself caught, like a moth in her quiet, deliberate flame.

George has always been introspective and found it hard to connect with people. He has preferred to spend his time with computers since he was little. Software code was simple, logical, and deterministic. People were not, and women especially.

Being around someone as beautiful as Ashley all the time was a surreal experience on its own. She moved through the apartment with unexpected ease, even in just her underwear or just in an oversized t-shirt barely hiding her generous breasts.

Just seeing her dark, pointy nipples under a white shirt was usually enough for George to think about her while masturbating nearly every night before sleep.

Most days, Ashley relaxed by just intentionally messing with him, knowing very well what it does to him. Exerting her power and influence made her feel good, and it excited her to see how far she could take it.

They had a small sofa that they shared to watch the TV and drink some wine. Ashley would pick a hot movie, put a couple of pillows on his lap, and lie her upper body on him. George's nose would fill with her scent.

As a rule, she would be wearing just some panties and an oversized t-shirt. At times, the fabric would be so sheer that he could clearly see her landing strip. On top of that, Ashley would position herself in a way that George had a great view down her top at her heaving chest.

By now, he was conditioned, and his body would react as soon as he sat down to open their bottle of wine. Through the evening, his erection would remain painfully throbbing, separated from Ashley only by his pants and the pillows under her head.

She probably knew.

***

"What is it that you desire?" The words reverberated in George’s mind, twisting with the sound of rain.

He blinked and found himself still standing outside, the downpour soaking through his shirt. His eyes were still locked with the black eyes of the strange man who walked Ashley home.

George was feeling off balance and confused as a shiver ran through his body. He opened his mouth before he could stop himself.

"She should not be wearing even a shirt if she likes giving me blue balls so much," he answered, surprising himself with his words.

There was a thunder cracking overhead. The stranger's smile widened.

He gave a small, courteous bow in acknowledgement, then turned and disappeared into the rain.

George stood alone for a moment, heart hammering with the echo of his own words.