K's Kollection

Cool for the summer (part 3)

I turn back around to meet Gretchen's eyes, and instantly, I feel the warmth of desire start to spread within me.

I should go. I should run.

Yet, despite all of these feelings of flight, I freeze. I feel rooted to the spot as her hand holds me in place. The smooth, warm hand whose thumb rubs small, soothing circles over my knuckles. Goosebumps rise to my skin, and I shiver even though the room is more than warm. I swallow and clear my dry throat.

"Please, stay with us," Gretchen says.

Her eyes plead with me to stay, and I fall easily into the trap.

Gretchen leans back for a second to adjust her position on the couch, tucking one of her legs underneath her and leaning forward just a bit. The movement causes the hem of her dress to rise, revealing more of the creamy skin underneath. I lick my lips and quickly shift my gaze. It's going to get harder to leave if I stay like this. I take a deep breath to steady myself. My thoughts have already begun to cloud over with the possibilities that lay in front of me, but what would be the cost? There's always a price to pay, especially when the situation is too good to be true.

I give in, "Okay."

Kamala pats the spot I was sitting in, signaling me to sit back down. I place my hands on my lap as I sit, and they both take that as an opportunity to take a hand of mine in. I was not prepared for when they began to mirror the action of stroking the top of my hand with their thumb. I know it wasn't planned, but it feels like they are reading each other's minds, and the shared goal is to watch me blow a gasket. Their touch alone is enough to have me heated and squirming in my seat. I suck in a breath and exhale slowly through my nostrils.

"You are more to us than just some intern," Kamala repeats Gretchen's words, but still, I have trouble believing them. I know both of them are just saying that to make me feel better.

"And before you get in your head, we aren't just saying that," Kamala interjects as if she read my mind.

I purse my lips at the accusation despite it being right. I stray hair behind my ear, and I look down at our joined hands in our lap.

"Let's just cut to the chase, we aren't upset with you we are only-" Kamala says.

"Why?" I ask.

I didn't mean to cut her off, but my mouth seems to be working faster than my brain right now.

"Why what?" Kamala asks, her eyebrows scrunching in confusion.

"Why aren't you upset with me? I ruined your night. I'm not what or who you wanted," I begin a list of things that I had done wrong within the short span of my being there, and Kamala holds up her hand, halting my prattling.

Kamala begins to speak, but Gretchen quickly gestures to allow her to take over the conversation instead.

"We aren't upset with you because you are the reason we concocted this plan in the first place. " Gretchen admits.

Her admission causes the voices in my head to be silent, giving her my mind full attention.

"Me?" I ask, even more confused. I look between both of them, and they both wear the same expression. Not one of anger or disappointment. There is a level of contentment with them along with an undercurrent of anxiety, but I'm more than likely the undercurrent.

Me? Why would they want me? What could I have done for the two of them to do a thing like that? The gears start turning in my head, but before I can think myself into a conniption, Gretchen begins to talk again.

"You aren't the only one having fantasies. I have had," Kamala clears her throat and gives a quick look to Gretchen, who gives a small life in return.