Deviant: Calla & Jason (The Billionaire Voyeur)

CHAPTER 2 - Calla

What in the fucking hell!

My boyfriend will save us; he'll find us—he has to!

I have no idea where Jason and I are, and no idea why someone's playing this sick joke on us, but it'll be a cold day in hell before I sleep with Jason. No way.

Not like he's some hideous hunchback or anything—I just don't roll like that; I don't give the goods up for just anyone just because.

My boyfriend, Scott, was my first and so far, my only, and I have every intention of keeping it that way.

I never even planned to sleep with him—or any guy for that matter—until I was married; for some reason, that's the only thing from my upbringing that stuck. Well, sort of.

Anyway, Jason and I are just not...look, we're friends. That's it.

I know how valuable that is; I know how hard it is to keep real friends of the opposite sex once you grow up, and I don't plan to fuck that up, pardon the pun.

There's just way too much at stake here, way too much on the line.

Even in these circumstances, I don't think Scott would take lightly to me sleeping with his best friend. I mean, how could I really explain that?

I mean, yeah, if this turns out to be real, he'd be a jerk not to be a little bit understanding, but there's no way it wouldn't affect what we have.

If the shoe were on the other foot, I'd be enraged; I'd never get over him fucking my best friend, even if it meant saving his life.

God, I must be a selfish cunt.

I look around the room and hope for a weakness somehow—there has to be another way out of here. Jason will find it. He's so resourceful and strong that if any part needs to be busted through, he'll do it—he's got the muscles. Not that I ever caught myself staring at them or anything. I mean, seriously—you can't miss them. Hellen Keller wouldn't. He's not like lunk-huge, or like Schwarzenegger or anything, but the guy is built.

He was always strong though. I remember one time—I think we were thirteen—part of the ladder broke to my treehouse, and he hoisted me right up there.

Anyway, like I said, if we have to, we'll wait it out. We just got here, so no need for any rash decisions. How embarrassing would it be if it's just some prank after all, after we go ahead and get right to it? What if it's some elaborate setup by Scott to test my faithfulness before he marries me?

Not that he has proposed yet or anything, but he will—probably when he graduates from that college. No need for the two of us to rush into anything when we're not together together. I mean, obviously we're completely committed to each other, despite the distance. He's not even that far away—just one state over. We see each other every two weeks or so, so it's not like a real long-distance relationship. Besides, absence makes the heart grow fonder I've been told.

Anyway, I love Scott, and I'm not gonna hump our mutual best friend just because some phantom says I have to. I mean, who does this creep think he is? And why would he do this? Especially when, as he said, he's aware of the complications of the matter?

Wait, is that why he's doing this? Just for kicks?

Jason is looking around right now and has started feeling out the weird-looking wall—I guess hoping to find some kind of secret passage, some kind of device where, if you touch it in a certain spot, an opening will appear and flip you to the other side of the wall or something.

I look at his outstretched arms. His biceps start to stir me again, so I quickly scan down his forearms and settle on his hands. That's a safe spot. His hands are somewhat large—definitely male, but clean. His nails have been kept low.

"What, do you go to some manicurist?" I say, forcing a chuckle.

He briefly looks back at me with slight confusion, then focuses on his hands.

"I do. I treat my hands and feet to whatever the Korean lady wants to talk me into—a massage, a clipping, whatever that fucking hand wax is. The pampering feels good, and my hands end up smoothed out and easier on whatever lady I need to handle."

He turns and grins at me, and I feel jealousy and arousal at once.

So stupid, right? Jason's just my friend—I should be happy for him that he scores every now and then—although, looking at him right now, it's gotta be more often than just every now and then.

"So do you get massages in...other places?" I say like a co-conspirator, and just as I start to wonder what his hands would feel like on me.

He doesn't answer—he just smiles a little and turns his attention back to the wall.

Fine. So it's not my business, I get it.

Why am I just standing here staring at him anyway? I should be looking around too.

I turn and start examining the area behind me.

Maybe I've seen too many mystery movies, but I'm convinced that, instead of a bookcase, since the room didn't have one, maybe if I touch the bed or that little dresser a certain way, it will turn and flip me to the other side.

But did I want to be flipped? What could possibly be waiting for us outside of this room? Would it be a setup? Because why wouldn't the owner of this place know we could accidentally stumble on something like that? Would he kill us if we find it?

Still, I touch all the items in the room to see if there'd be any effect.

Maybe the other side of this room would be worse, but I had to try.

The dim room we are in isn't terribly uncomfortable—the temperature is fine, although a little on the cooler side, and it is light enough that we can see each other and objects around us clearly. Plus, it doesn't feel too small—heck, it's definitely bigger than my apartment, I can tell you that. I'm living in about five hundred square feet, and this place is at least a thousand.

I decide to examine the clothing that has been left for us. They feel soft and amazing—the way I imagine that bed's gonna feel, like all of these soft materials are from the best stuff. I'm guessing real silk and everything.

Obviously, this Voice Man has money and this is some sort of pleasure dungeon.

I press one of the pieces to my skin and almost purr. I wish I could afford to wear something that feels this nice.

I check out each piece clearly meant for me, and not only are they soft and comfortable and clean, they are quite sexy. Yeah, it's obvious what this guy's up to. This whole room is built for lulling and messing with our heads.

I count the underwear, which, apparently, is the only clothing I'm supposed to wear while here: seven pieces, if I count the silk bathrobe.

Really? Is he going to resupply us somehow? Or does he really think we're going to give in to his terms before a week is up?

I sneak a glance at Jason and catch him looking at me intensely, his green eyes fiery, before he turns away and goes back to his task.

What's he thinking?

I know if it were up to him, we'd be out of here today.

Fat chance.