Deviant: Calla & Jason (The Billionaire Voyeur)

CHAPTER 5 - Calla

What a night! Weird dreams and all.

I wake up expecting to see my bedroom, but I'm still in some foreign place with Jason instead of Scott near.

Poor Jason—that ground does not look comfortable at all.

The freak who brought us here probably made sure that was the case, so that we could abandon an idea like this as soon as possible and get one step closer to his aim of having us sleep together by getting us to literally sleep together.

I'm not falling for it. Sorry, Jason—you're stuck with the short end of the stick, I'm afraid.

* * *

Most unproductive day ever.

We try and fail to find some opening in the room that could help us out, and I bet Jason thought I missed the glances he threw in my direction. Trap a guy in any situation and tell him he has to fuck his way out and he has no qualms about it.

I hadn't necessarily gotten the impression that Jason was DTF before, but I remember feeling his affection back in junior high—I knew he liked me. I'm glad he kept it to himself because it was nice just to be friends, and he did a good job of hiding his longing for the most part. It was a bit of an ego booster for me, but after I got with Scott, my friendship with Jason only got better, and I thought he had gotten over the whole thing.

He and I didn't necessarily stay as close since he and Scott became thick as thieves, but we had a good arrangement—I could still bitch to him about things outside of Scott. Scott probably yapped to him about me, but I always knew I wasn't at liberty to do the same; guys tend to stick together in a way once they bond, no matter how close you were to them before.

I wonder if Jason knows more about Jesse? And would he tell me? I'll ask him tomorrow.

* * *

"Okay, I can't take it anymore; I feel gross. Turn around," I say, as I prepare myself to take a shower. The longest I've ever gone without showering is about twenty-four hours, and at minimum, that amount of time has passed.

Now, I'm more self-conscious about smelling funky than possibly giving Jason an eyeful.

"No problem," Jason says, dutifully turning around immediately. "Just let me know when it's okay to look up again."

Jason is such a gentleman. Now that I think about it, he was always that way with me.

I undress, get in the shower, and enjoy the feel of the spray on my skin.

Showers are so much better the grosser you are.

I don't know how long I keep Jason waiting, but when I finally turn the shower off, probably grinning to myself in pleasure over how clean I feel, and not thinking about the owner of that weird voice possibly watching it all, I realize I didn't bring a towel or anything to cover myself with. Also, that I couldn't put my dirty clothes back on, so I guess I have to put on one of those soft outfits in the small dresser.

I thought about which one I'd wear first. There was only a silk bathrobe (purple), one pair of silk pajamas (red), and some teddies and other lingerie to choose from. As for Jason, five white T-shirts and some silk boxers.

Like, seriously—the dude provided us with only nightwear. He thinks he's so slick.

In the meantime, how am I supposed to dry off?

"You see that knob?" the weird voice suddenly says, making both Jason and me jump. I had just been studying the silver item. I can't believe this is how I'm supposed to dry off.

"Push it," the voice says, and like those machines in public restrooms, my body is dried by warm air.

I step past Jason and slip on the bathrobe.

"Open," I say to him, once covered.

I watch his eyes take me in.

"It fits," is all he says after a few seconds.