Chapter 61: Ring Ring

Chapter 61: Ring Ring

I’m flat on my back, Erica’s silhouette looming over me as she rides me like a wild stallion. Her blonde hair cascades down, tickling my face, and her blue eyes gleam with a lustful intensity. The room is dimly lit by the glow of a single lamp, casting long shadows that dance across the walls. The scent of roses and cigarette smoke hangs heavy in the air, a peculiar mix that’s become oddly comforting.

“Call me momma,” she growls, her voice low and sultry. A shiver runs down my spine, and I can’t help but oblige.

“Yes, momma,” I moan, my voice barely above a whisper.

The sound of her phone buzzing breaks the momentary silence, the shrill tone piercing the air like a gunshot. We both ignore it, lost in our own world. Erica’s hips continue to rock back and forth, her movements growing more urgent with each passing second. The bed creaks beneath us, protesting against the force of her thrusts.

“Call me momma like you mean it!” she moans, her tone more insistent this time. I can feel her grip tightening around my wrists, pinning them against the mattress.

“Momma,” I gasped, my voice strained. “Fuck, momma.”

The phone buzzes again, and this time, I can’t help but let out a frustrated sigh. “Can you just...silence it?” I ask, my voice laced with annoyance.

Erica stops mid-thrust, her eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?” she says, her tone icy. “You don’t get to snap at me, Jason.”

She resumes her movements, her pace even more frenzied than before. I can feel the tension building within me, my body aching for release. But Erica’s not done yet. She leans forward, pinning my arms down with her full weight.

Just as I’m about to cum, Erica’s eyes lock onto mine, her gaze intense and commanding. “Cum for me, baby,” she purrs, her voice dripping with desire. “Let momma feel you deep inside me.”

My body tenses, waves of pleasure coursing through me as I begin to release. The world narrows to just us two, my senses overwhelmed by her scent, her touch, her warmth enveloping me. I can feel every nerve ending in my body igniting, ready to explode in ecstasy.

But then, that fucking phone buzzes again.

The jarring vibration cuts through the moment like a knife, completely derailing my climax. The intense buildup dissipates, leaving me frustrated and unfulfilled. I groan in disappointment, my body still trembling from the interrupted release.

This time, Erica’s face contorted with rage. Her eyes, previously filled with lust, now burn with fury. She lets out a primal scream of anger, her whole body shaking with the force of it. In one fluid motion, she reaches over to the nightstand, snatching up her phone with such violence I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter in her grip.

“WHAT?” she roars into the device, her voice echoing off the walls. “What the FUCK do you want?!”

Erica’s eyes are ablaze, twin infernos of unbridled rage as she screams into the phone. “I don’t want to go to your fucking party!” she bellows, her voice reverberating off the walls with such force I swear I can see the paintings shake. “I’m busy! Do you hear me? BUSY! I’M NOT FUCKING GOING.”

With a guttural roar, she smashes her phone on the nightstand. It hits with a sickening crunch, the screen shattering into a spiderweb of cracks. Shards of glass scatter across the polished wood surface, glinting in the dim lamplight like fallen stars.

Erica’s chest heaves as she stares at the broken device, her fury slowly ebbing away. A heavy sigh escapes her lips as she swings her leg over, dismounting me with a grace that seems at odds with her recent outburst. The sudden loss of her warmth leaves me feeling oddly bereft.

I can’t tear my eyes away from the destroyed phone, its broken screen a stark reminder of the intensity of Erica’s anger. The silence in the room is deafening, broken only by our ragged breathing.

“Sorry your cum got fucked up because of the call,” Erica says suddenly, her voice softer now, tinged with regret. She runs a hand through her disheveled blonde hair, her blue eyes meeting mine with a mixture of apology and lingering frustration.

“Who... who called?” I manage to ask, my voice still shaky from our interrupted climax.

“Tessa,” Erica replies, her voice oddly calm now, a stark contrast to her earlier outburst. She sits on the edge of the bed, her fingers absent-mindedly tracing patterns on the silk sheets. “She invited us to a party at Salem State. Brooke’s going, too. And apparently, Nikki and Tara.”

“Do you want to go?” I ask.

Erica turns to me, her blue eyes softening. “No,” she says firmly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my forehead. Her touch is gentle, almost reverent. “And you’re not allowed at events with lots of people, remember? Not after... Halloween.”

The word ‘Halloween’ seems to echo in the room, bringing with it a chill that has nothing to do with the temperature. I swallow hard, nodding. “Right.”

“Do you want to go alone?” I ask finally, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. I’m not sure why I asked or what answer I’m hoping for.

Erica stares at me for a moment, her eyes wide with disbelief. Then, unexpectedly, she bursts into laughter. It’s not her usual sardonic chuckle but a genuine, full-bodied laugh that shakes her entire frame. The sound is melodious, filling the room with a warmth that seems to chase away the lingering tension.

“Oh, Jason,” she says, wiping tears from her eyes, her voice still trembling with mirth. “Do you really think I’d rather go to some lame-ass party without you? God, you can be so adorably clueless sometimes.”

I shrug, feeling a bit sheepish. “I don’t know. You never get to see your friends alone. I thought maybe you’d want some time to yourself.”

The laughter dies in her throat, replaced by a dangerous glint in her eye. Her mood shifts so quickly it’s like watching a storm roll in over calm seas. “Is this you asking for alone time?” she asks, her voice low and threatening.

“Fuck no, not at all,” I say quickly, my heart rate picking up. I can feel the tension in the room ratcheting up again like a rubber band being stretched to its limit.

Erica’s eyes bore into mine, searching for any hint of deception. The silence stretches between us, thick and heavy. Finally, she speaks, her voice soft but with an edge sharp enough to cut.

“You better not be getting sick of me, Jason,” she says, leaning in close. Her breath is warm against my cheek, carrying the faint scent of cigarettes. “Because if you are...” She kisses me on my lips. “I’ll kill you,” she says simply as if discussing the weather.

The words should terrify me. They should make me want to run, to get as far away from this beautiful, dangerous woman as possible. But instead, I feel myself melting under her gaze, surrendering completely to her will.

I feel a manic grin spreading across my face, my eyes wide with a mix of fear and exhilaration. “Oh god, Erica, that’s so hot,” I gush, my voice rising in pitch like an overexcited fanboy. “I really hope I get to die by your hands someday! It would make me so happy.”

Tessa reels back as if physically struck, her steel-gray eyes wide with disbelief. For a moment, the room is eerily silent, the ticking of the antique clock on the mantle suddenly deafening.

Then, like a dam bursting, Tessa explodes again. “You promised!” she screams, spittle flying from her lips. Her words are slurred, but the raw emotion behind them is crystal clear. “You fucking promised we’d go to the same college, Erica! We were going to rule that place together!”

As Erica and Tessa continue their heated exchange, their voices rising to a fever pitch, I catch Brooke’s eye. With a subtle nod of my head, I motion for her to follow me out of the room. She hesitates for a moment, her gaze darting nervously between the two screaming women before silently slipping out of her chair and padding after me.

We make our way down the dimly lit hallway, the ornate wallpaper seeming to ripple in the flickering light of the antique sconces. The muffled sounds of the argument fade behind us, replaced by the soft creaking of the hardwood floors beneath our feet. I lead Brooke into Erica’s card room.

As I close the heavy door behind us, shutting out the chaos of the living room, I turn to face Brooke. For a moment, I simply stare at her, my gaze cold and unblinking.

“When are you going to stop fucking up my life, Brooke?” I ask, my voice devoid of emotion. The words hang in the air between us, heavy and accusatory.

Brooke’s eyes widen, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “W-what?” she stammers, her voice barely above a whisper.

I take a step closer, my eyes never leaving hers. “I can see through you,” I continue, my tone flat and emotionless. “This was clearly set up by you to drive a wedge between Erica and me.”

The color drains from Brooke’s face, her freckles standing out starkly against her pale skin. She stumbles back, bumping into Erica’s massive green felted card table.

“Jason, I... I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she gasps, her voice trembling. Her eyes dart around the room as if searching for an escape route.

My eyes empty as I stare at Brooke, my gaze devoid of any warmth or emotion. “I don’t care,” I say, my voice a monotone that seems to suck the life out of the room. “But if you continue on this path, Brooke, it’ll be really, really bad for you.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and ominous. The ornate card room suddenly feels claustrophobic, the antique wallpaper closing in around us like a trap. The soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner seems to slow, each second stretching out infinitely.

Brooke’s face pales even further if that’s possible. She grips the edge of the card table, her knuckles turning white. The green felt beneath her fingers wrinkled slightly, a small imperfection in the otherwise immaculate room.

I sigh suddenly, my eyes filling with a profound sadness. “Brooke, I miss my sister. We were best friends growing up. Remember how we used to build pillow forts in the living room? How we’d sneak out at night, and mom would threaten to shoot us?”

The memories flood back, bittersweet and painful. The scent of Brooke’s cookies, the sound of our weird uncle’s laughter, the feel of Brooke’s hand in mine as we ran through sprinklers on hot summer days. It all seems so distant now, like a fading dream.

“Can’t we try to be friends again?” I ask, a note of desperate hope creeping into my voice.

Brooke stares at me, her hazel eyes wide and conflicted. For a moment, I see a flicker of the sister I think I used to know, the one who would chase away my nightmares and share her ice cream with me. Then, slowly, stiffly, she nods.

“Okay,” she says, her voice now taking on a similar emotionless tone I had earlier.

‘Oh wait. This girl. She’s not my sister. She’s just someone else wearing her face. Fuck, is she even worth this then?’

Before I can say anything else, movement at the door catches my eye.

Erica and Tessa are standing there, framed by the ornate doorway. Tessa’s left eye is swollen shut and darkening rapidly, a nasty bruise is blooming across her cheekbone. But surprisingly, she’s laughing, a deep, throaty chuckle that seems at odds with her battered appearance.

I blink rapidly, my mind struggling to process the sudden shift in the room’s atmosphere. Erica catches my eye and gives me a subtle nod, her lips curving into a small smile. “We’re cool again,” she says, her voice oddly calm considering the chaos that must have unfolded.

I turn to Tessa, and my jaw drops. It’s the worst black eye I’ve ever seen, like something out of a cartoon or a particularly brutal boxing match. Yet, inexplicably, she’s grinning from ear to ear.

“Girls will be girls,” Tessa slurs, swaying slightly on her feet. She lurches towards me, her hand outstretched. I instinctively flinch, but she just grabs my hand, shaking it vigorously.

“Sorry for being a massive cunt earlier,” she says, her words running together in a drunken jumble. The scent of whiskey on her breath is so strong it makes my eyes water.

I stare at her, utterly bewildered. “Uh... sure, it’s okay,” I manage to stammer out, my brain still struggling to catch up with the rapidly changing situation.

Tessa nods, seemingly satisfied with my response. She turns to Brooke, who’s been watching the scene unfold with wide, confused eyes. “C’mon, Brookie,” Tessa calls, her voice suddenly cheerful. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand and hit that party!”

Brooke hesitates for a moment, her gaze darting between me and Erica. Then, with a small nod, she follows Tessa towards the door.

“Sayonara, bitches!” Tessa calls over her shoulder.

As Tessa saunters past Erica, her walk suddenly steadies, losing its drunken wobble. Just before she disappears from view, she turns her head towards me. Her one good eye, the one not swollen shut, locks onto mine with an intensity that sends a chill down my spine. It’s clear, focused, and utterly devoid of any alcohol-induced haze.

Her lips curl into a smile that can only be described as wicked. It’s not the goofy grin of a drunk woman but something far more sinister. The corners of her mouth stretch unnaturally wide, revealing too many teeth. At that moment, she looks less like a person and more like a predator that’s just spotted its prey.

Then, quick as a flash, she winks at me.

I stand there, rooted to the spot, my mind reeling. ‘What the fuck does that mean?’ The question echoes in my head, bouncing around like a pinball. ‘Was she really drunk? Was this all an act? And if so, what was even the fucking point?’

The sound of the front door slamming shut jolts me back to reality. I turn to Erica, half-expecting her to have noticed Tessa’s strange behavior. But she’s just standing there, rubbing her temples, looking utterly drained.

“I feel mentally exhausted,” I mutter, my voice barely above a whisper. The words feel inadequate to describe the whirlwind of confusion and unease swirling inside me.

Erica lets out a long, heavy sigh. “Tell me about it,” she says, her voice dripping with fatigue. “What a fucking day.”