Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The secret’s out: Ava’s never worked customer service. Not really. Her one shift at Joe's American Bar & Grill apparently doesn’t count, and that’s fine. She hardly remembers it anyway, she’s not gonna claim to have suffered through something she hasn’t. She’s suffered through plenty of other real things, anyway. No need to make shit up. Deborah had seemed to view the whole thing as a moral failing, though, and that part is not fine. Not even remotely. 

So now, here she is, tugging on a last minute pair of “golf clothes” that Deborah had so kindly bought her to play caddy for the week. It’s not a perfect fit, but they at least fit her better than the polo and shorts she wore at Seven Graces. She takes this as a good sign and steps out into the hallway where Deborah waits impatiently for her.

“How do I look?” Ava asks, donning her white visor. It’s the same one that Deborah has, only Deborah’s makes her look chic, and Ava fears her own makes her look dorky. 

“Like a caddy,” Deborah says. The look on her face confirms Ava’s fear. 

“A sexy caddy?” 

“Just a caddy.” 

Ava rolls her eyes. “You’re too kind.” 

“Service work isn’t supposed to be glamorous,” Deborah says. “That’s reserved for comedians and late night hosts to be.”

“Right. Hey, and speaking of glamorous — this?” Ava gestures to all of Deborah and wolf-whistles, “Absolutely working for me. Ten outta ten. Hottest woman on the course — no, wait. We’re issuing a correction, ladies and gentleman…” Ava presses a finger to an imaginary earpiece. “The hottest woman in golfing history.”

“Ava,” Deborah sighs. She’s using her warning tone that Ava hates. “Can you keep yourself in check this week? I’ve got a lot of people to impress and not a lot of time.”

Ava deflates. Deborah would find a bit like that endearing if they were back home and it were just the two of them. It is technically just the two of them in this otherwise empty hotel hallway, but they’re in unfamiliar territory now. Both literally and figuratively. 

It hasn’t even been a month since they first fucked. They’d both been a little buzzed — Ava fresh off of bar trivia and a breakup, and Deborah home early from her colonoscopy party. Deborah had talked about all the rampant biphobia at the party, and about Late Night, and her dead dad. Then, Ava’s eyes were on Deborah’s lips, and Deborah’s hands were on Ava’s waist, and suddenly they were in bed together. Things had happened so quickly — so organically — but by morning Deborah had made her expectations clear: this was just a fun arrangement, nothing serious, and they weren’t to discuss it in front of anyone else (if they even discussed it at all). 

“I mean, yeah. I’m not gonna hold you back or anything. I get it, we’re here for work.” Ava shuffles her feet. “But like, you still wanna spend time together, right?” It sounds needy, and Ava hates herself for it. 

“Yes, Ava. That’s why I asked you to be my caddy,” Deborah says. “Just don’t get sulky if I talk up to Bob a bit, or if I give Bill Blort some eyes.” 

“Right, right. Because that’s business, and this is…” Ava gestures vaguely between them, waiting for Deborah to fill in the blank. 

“This is golf, honey.” Deborah says, flatly. With that, she heads for the doors. “Come on.” 

— 

Ava learns very quickly that golf is a miserable sport. She’s never been into sports in general — her dad could never get her ADHD ass on the couch long enough to watch basketball, but at least those players were moving around. So much of golf is just standing, politely clapping, and then standing some more. They’ve been standing longer than usual, too, because the group ahead of them is taking their sweet time to finish up the hole. Ava finds the whole thing is excruciatingly dull. Maybe she’s not cut out for service work after all. 

It wouldn’t be so bad if Deborah was actually spending time with her, not just “with” her. So much of her jittery mind stills when she’s shooting the shit with her boss, but right now Deborah’s fawning all over Bob Lipka of all people, so the other caddies are Ava’s only hope of socialization. They quickly iced her out after first introductions, though. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling. It reminds her of high school — trying to find a seat at the cafeteria or a friend for a group project and getting the very clear, nonverbal cues that she’s not wanted here. 

Bob says something just out of earshot, and Deborah roars with laughter. Fucking Bob. Nothing’s that funny. She catches herself seething and realizes that Marty is doing the same thing just a few feet away. Jesus Christ. Marty’s the last person she wants to have anything in common with right now. She can’t believe she has to endure a whole week of this.

The last member of the other group steps up to the tee — a woman this time. Wait. Ava recognizes her face from the flashcards, something with an M. Mackenzie? No. Megan. That’s it. She’s blanking on the last name, or really anything else from the card, because Ava’s eyes are fixed on how outrageously busty this woman is. Ava hates to be such a man about it, but Megan’s headshot was clearly cropped. She would’ve remembered something like this. Jesus Christ, those are big tits. Ava feels the tiniest bit lightheaded. 

“Miss, that’s the men’s tee,” one of the douche-wad caddies has the nerve to say. “The women’s tee is further up.”

Megan turns, locks eyes with him, and delivers a cold and clear, “Fuck that.” She swings with perfect precision, and the ball goes soaring. 

Okay. Scratch everything she said. Golf is fucking awesome. 

Megan spins on her heel and assertively locks eyes with the caddy again. He apologizes sheepishly.

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. That was so hot. And maybe it’s because Ava’s been lonely all morning, or maybe it’s because she’s suddenly very turned on, but she swears Megan’s eyes land on her for just a moment too long. Ava’s heart beats in her ears. Holy fucking shit. 

She leans over to Deborah and quietly says, “I’m in love?” Deborah rolls her eyes. 

— 

The other group has made good time and is already carrying their clubs back to the carts by the time they reach the next hole. Still, Ava finds herself eagerly looking for Megan again. Sure enough, she spots her, boarding the cart driven by the insufferable, sexist caddy from earlier. Lucky guy. 

“Jesus Christ, will you stop staring?” Deborah sighs, pulling Ava right back to Earth. 

“Shit. Sorry,” Ava blushes, then puts on a very bad British accent and says, “I only have eyes for you, my dear.” 

“Ava,” Deborah says in the warning tone again. You’re embarrassing me, is the part that’s left unsaid, and she doesn’t seem thrilled about it. 

“You’re pretty chummy with the caddy.” Ava and Deborah both turn. It’s Bob, because of course it’s Bob. It’s not even noon yet, and Ava’s already had enough of this guy. 

Deborah does a showy little laugh and puts a hand on Ava’s shoulder. “Believe it or not, she works for me.” 

“You brought your own personal caddy?” Bob looks like he can’t decide if that’s impressive or just plain weird. Either way, Deborah corrects him —

“Hah! No, she writes for me. She’s just being a good sport this week and tagging along,” Deborah pinches one of Ava’s cheeks like she’s a baby-faced fourth grader, and not a viable sexual partner she’s proud to have on her arm. “But she’s promised to not be too much of a third wheel. Right, Ava?”

Ava’s ears burn. This is embarrassing, and not in the fun way. “Um, right.” 

“Well, selfishly I’m glad to hear it,” Bob smiles. “No offense, Eva.” 

“Ava,” Ava corrects, but her voice comes out too quiet and wobbly to make any real difference. 

“Come on, let’s watch Marty show us what not to do.” Bob laughs, and right on cue, Deborah laughs too. It’s not even fucking funny. She can’t believe this guy is getting Deborah’s pity laughs. That shit needs to be earned. 

Ava tugs Deborah back as he steps away and says, quietly, “This guy? Really?”

“Yes, really.” Deborah says, sternly. 

“I’ve got a thing or two I could add to his flashcard.”

“Enough with the flashcards.”

“I thought you wanted me here to quiz you —”

“On the cart, Ava. Face time here is valuable. I need to make myself marketable when I’m around others, and I worry a lot of the people here won’t get…” Deborah pauses, trying to find a delicate way to put it, but there really isn’t one. “Well, you.”

“Oh,” Ava feels like she’s been punched in the throat. “Got it.” 

“Oh, don’t take it personally,” Deborah says, which is actually an insane thing to say. Everything about being told you’re too weird to like is personal. “We can get some time together tonight.”

“Sure,” Ava says. “Whatever. Have fun.” 

— 

Ava keeps her distance for the next three holes. She slouches in the driver’s seat of the cart with her arms crossed tightly against her chest. They’re supposed to break for lunch after this. Ava had hoped to spend the time with Deborah, but that's clearly off the table now. She’ll probably grab a sandwich from the cafe and hide in her room until Deborah needs her again, but the more she thinks about it, the stupider it sounds. Deborah’s not gonna need her. What’s the point of buying golf clothes and lugging around clubs if Deborah doesn’t want her there anyway? 

“Hey, Caddy Girl.” Ava looks up. Oh shit. It’s Megan. “I need you to drive me back for lunch.” 

“Oh! Um, I’m actually here with Deborah —” Ava gestures to the course and realizes a moment too late that she’s lost sight of Deborah — and the rest of the group entirely. She looks around, confused. 

“I know. I sent my caddy with her.” The realization twists in Ava’s chest like a knife. Deborah ditched her. If Megan sees how crushed she is, she clearly doesn’t care. Instead, she leans against the cart and says, “I want you to drive me. Maybe you’ll get something to thank you.”

Suddenly, Ava doesn’t care about being ditched anymore. Her cheeks heat over the close proximity as she stares up at Megan. 

“Uh, sure. Okay. Hop in.” Ava twists the key in the ignition and waits as Megan takes the seat beside her. 

“Drive,” Megan says, so Ava does. 

“Beautiful day on the course, huh?” 

“Drive quietly,” she clarifies. 

“Got it.” 

It’s not a long drive back to the resort. Soon enough, Ava’s pulling up to the front entrance, but Megan shakes her head. “Not here. Keep going around back.” 

“Oh, uh. Okay,” Ava taps the gas and the cart ungracefully jolts back up to its previous speed. She rounds the corner. “Here?”

“A little further.” She gestures to a supply shed tucked behind a few decorative shrubs. 

Weird, Ava thinks. It’s not exactly a convenient place to park for lunch, but whatever. She’s here to serve, not to question, so she taps the gas again and steers the cart back behind the shed. “Here?”

“This works.” Megan says. Ava parks the cart and pockets her keys. 

“Kind of a long walk from the cafe, but hey, good to get our steps in —” Megan grabs Ava by the jaw and shuts her up with a kiss. 

Oh! It’s that kind of a thank you. Ava’s so fucking stupid, she expected a tip. This is infinitely better, though. She melts back against the driver’s seat and invites the touch of this rich, older woman — if it’s not gonna be Deborah, she’s fine with someone else. 

“You’re such a funny little thing,” Megan drags her teeth over Ava’s bottom lip, and Ava moans in response. “Strutting around on the course with all those big boys. You stick out like a sore thumb.” She pulls back to assess her. “Never seen a girl caddy on the course here before.”

“Yeah, well. I’m new at this.” Ava sighs. 

“Clearly. But I can show you the ropes.” Megan climbs off of her as quickly as she got on and walks around the back of the cart. Ava feels whiplashed. She leans out the side to keep an eye on her. Megan zips open one of the bags and pulls out a golf club. She inspects it, thoughtfully. “Do you know what this is?”

“Uh, a golf club?” Ava laughs. She’s oddly turned on right now — and imagines she’ll stay that way no matter what they do, but she’d really prefer this doesn’t turn into a golf lesson. She’s too horny to encode any new information. 

“That’s right,” Megan walks back around and strokes Ava’s face with the back of her hand. Ava’s heart flutters. “I saw you dropped your woman’s twice today.”

“Yeah, well,” Ava laughs again, embarrassed. “They’re heavier than they look.”

“Too heavy for your scrawny little arms, huh? You pathetic little thing.”

Ava squeezes her thighs together. It’s a weird emotional combo — she’s felt so insecure about every single thing lately. She’s either too much or not enough for Deborah, and never what she needs in the right moments. Megan’s comment lands painfully in her chest, but delightfully between her legs. She’s always loved a bit of humiliation. Maybe she can turn off the emotional baggage for whatever this is and just let herself have fun. 

“Um, I guess so,” Ava says, realizing she’s been staring dopily at Megan without giving her an answer.

“You know what else these are good for?” Megan asks. 

Ava’s heart skips a beat. “What?”

“I’ll show you.” Megan gives her a firm shove backwards. Ava sprawls out across both seats. 

Megan slips two fingers into her front pocket and pulls out a condom. Jesus. Way to come prepared. The golf course is a weird place to have that on hand, Ava thinks, but she decides not to overanalyze it. This is the rich Vegas equivalent to the Olympic village where everyone fucks each other between events. At least, that’s certainly the vibe Bob was giving off with Deborah. Fucking Bob. 

Megan tears open the packaging and slides the condom right over the handle of the golf club. Oh god. Oh fuck. Ava’s heart hammers in her chest.

“Pants off,” Megan says. Ava’s a sucker for doing what she’s told, especially by a woman in charge. She hurriedly shimmies out of her pants and lets them hang at her ankles where her stupid little sneakers keep them from going any further. 

Megan crawls on top of Ava and steadies a hand at the base of her belly. “You’ve got a lot to learn, Caddy Girl,” she says, readying the handle. “Here’s lesson one.” 

With that, she nudges Ava’s legs apart and thrusts the golf club up inside her. No foreplay, no lube, nothing. Ava’s lucky she’s young and relatively wet already, because Jesus fucking Christ. She can’t help herself — she throws her head back and wails. 

Ava has no qualms with penetrative sex. She’s had her fair share with dicks and straps and hands bigger than her own (which she imagines Deborah would find quite shocking). But this is intense, and Megan knows it judging by that devilish look on her face. 

Ava whines. Megan puts on a showy pout as she thrusts in and out of her. “Oh god, just listen to you. You can barely take it.” Ava’s used to being a little more warmed up before something like this, but it’s fine. Megan’s hot as hell, and Ava’s super turned on. She can handle it. Despite this, Megan continues to goad her — “How are you supposed to fulfill your little caddy duties if you can’t even do this one simple thing?”

“I can take it —” Ava gasps. She feels her hips shakily rise to match Megan’s rhythm. 

“Be quiet.” Megan says firmly. She shuts Ava up with a kiss, and Ava takes advantage of her mouth on hers to muffle yet another wail. Megan pulls back once more. “You wouldn’t want the boys seeing, would you? Wouldn’t want them getting any ideas… seeing how deeply I can fuck you with this club?”

She moves her hand down Ava’s navel to her clit and begins circling it with increased pressure. It’s dizzying. Ava throws her head back, gasping, writhing — it’s all so much so quickly — and then she’s coming, hard and fast all over the fucking club. She collapses back against the leather seats, panting for breath as Megan slides the handle out of her and hurls it backwards into the grass. 

Jesus fucking Christ, that was nuts. Ava’s seeing stars. She stares up at the roof of the cart and winces as she feels two fingers slide back into her without warning. 

“Whoah, hang on,” Ava yelps. “I might need a minute to —”

“That’s not how this works.” Megan grabs Ava by the jaw once more and stares directly into her eyes. “You’re here because I pay you. You work for me, Caddy Girl. And you’re gonna come for me again. Am I clear?”

Fuck. Ava clenches around Megan’s fingers. She’s already close again. She nods and says, shakily, “Yes.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Megan corrects. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Ava says. 

“Good girl. Now open your mouth, show me your teeth.” Megan strokes Ava’s chin with her thumb. Ava, always eager to please, does as she’s told. She opens her mouth and gags as Megan sticks two fingers deep inside to hold down her tongue, all the while still fucking her rigorously with her other hand. She inspects her like she’s one of her prized German Shepherds mentioned on her flashcard, and much like a German Shepherd, Ava intends to be a good girl. 

“Not bad. You’re a pretty girl.” She withdraws her fingers from her mouth, and Ava tries to close it. “Ah, ah — keep it open for me.” Ava obeys, and without warning, Megan spits. It hits the back of her throat. Ava squeezes her eyes shut and comes violently over the sensation with a strangled cry.  

Megan clasps a hand over her mouth, forcing her to swallow. She continues fucking her through the orgasm. It’s overstimulating as hell. Ava can’t take much more. She’s moaning and whining frantically from under Megan’s hand. 

“Just one more, Caddy Girl. One more for me.” 

Ava doesn’t make it another twenty seconds. She’s seizing up again in no time, crashing through a third, brutal orgasm. She collapses against the seats, shaking and gasping like never before. Her whole body is a fucking wreck. 

“There we go.” Megan sits up and wipes the hand covered in cum against Ava’s shirt with no regard for if it’ll stain or not. “You’d better go shower off if you want them to let you back on the course.”

Ava nods, dazed. “Wow. Okay. Yeah. Shower.” Her ears are ringing, and she can hardly string together a coherent sentence. 

“Good girl,” Megan says. “Now drive us back. I wanna grab some lunch.” 

Ava sits up shakily and tugs her pants back up, still miserably wet between her legs. The lack of any aftercare whatsoever is killing her, but that’s not exactly something she expects from a stranger. Megan circles around the cart and takes her seat on the passenger side, already radiating impatience, so Ava twists her keys in the ignition and taps the gas. Holy shit. Hoooooly fucking shit. 

Her first thought is simply that she can't wait to tell Deborah. It’s quite the story, really, getting fucked within an inch of her life by the second hottest woman on the golf course. But then she remembers where they left things, how desperate Deborah was to get away from her, so much so that she abandoned her on the green all by herself. Ava’s heart sinks in her chest. Maybe she shouldn’t tell her. Maybe she doesn’t need to know. 

Ava parks the cart out front, and Megan hops off. “See you around, Caddy Girl,” she says over her shoulder. 

“Uh, yeah. You too!” Ava calls after her. Jesus Christ, she can’t believe that actually happened. She thinks about telling Deborah all over again and pictures the look on her face. 

Okay, yeah. She’s definitely telling Deborah. She needs to see that. 

Ava figures she has about thirty minutes to shower, shovel some food into her face, and change her clothes. She hurries back inside, hands stuffed in her pockets to cover the way they’re shaking from the spike of adrenaline and the crash of her blood sugar. She has a whole mix of feelings right now, some bad, but some good. That’s an improvement from this morning for sure. Maybe this week isn’t shaping up to be such a disaster after all. 

Ava swipes into her room with her key card and steals a look at herself in the mirror, disheveled and sweaty and decked out in cum-stained golf clothes. She thinks about earlier, about being so afraid of looking dorky, about Deborah saying not everyone here would get her. Maybe she does look a little dorky, but fuck that, she thinks, channelling her inner-Megan. Someone likes her. And right now, that’s good enough for her.

Chapter Text

Ava’s never been very punctual. One of the benefits of having her move into the guest suite was never having to wait for her arrival — always fifteen minutes late in the worst outfit Deborah’s ever seen with a matcha latte in hand. But Ava’s gotten better at being on time ever since Deborah sent her away. She’s really built some life skills. At least, that’s what Deborah keeps telling herself whenever she thinks about all the lost time. 

It’s 1:04PM, and Deborah’s impatience twists into worry. Ava should’ve been out front at least ten minutes ago. Deborah knows she hurt her feelings — Ava’s so expressive and never good at hiding how she feels. Still, Deborah figured that she’d stick the rest of the day out instead of calling it quits so soon. The Ava she knows is more stubborn than that. 

Right as her watch reads 1:05PM, Ava bursts out of the resort doors and hurries to the cart. She’s wearing an entirely different outfit from before. 

“There you are! Where the hell have you been?” Deborah looks her up and down. “Did you change clothes?”

“Sorry, boss. Someone else was in need of my services.” Ava grins. She slides into the cart and twists the keys, ready to go. 

“What?” Deborah stares at her. “Oh god. Not the redhead.” 

“Her name is Megan, and she’s very prolific.” Ava lowers her voice, “Sexually.” She taps the gas and the cart jumps to a start. 

“You’re kidding. I let you out of my sight for an hour and you fall into bed with someone?”

“More like ‘fall into a golf cart,’ but yeah. We fucked.” Ava has the biggest grin Deborah’s seen on her in a while. It’s irritating. 

“Jesus Christ, Ava. You’re supposed to be helping me this week. You’re not actually a caddy.”

“Well, Megan seems to think so,” Ava says smugly. “Plus, this does help you. We had a good time, maybe she’ll associate me with you, and you get points for that.”

“Oh, I hope she doesn’t associate us at all. I don’t want people to look at me and think about gay sex.”

“Well, too bad. I already think about that when I look at you.” Deborah rolls her eyes. “Also, you literally told me to stay out of your way. I’m doing what you wanted. You’re spending all your time with Bob anyway —”

“I told you I’d be spending time with Bob,” Deborah says, exasperated. “Are you jealous?”

“Are you?”

“Of course not. I’d just like for my plus one to behave herself. Is that so much to ask?”

“I’m behaving myself just fine, thanks.” Ava reaches forward and grabs a flashcard from off the dashboard. “Okay. Who’s this?” 

Deborah studies the image of a cleancut man in his 40s. “Easy. John Banks. He’s a hunting enthusiast, owns about thirteen cabins across the states.” 

“Good,” Ava fumbles blindly for another card as she drives. “Okay. This guy?”

“Stephen Ballard. Mormon. Big family.” Deborah smirks. “He seems uneasy about being in Sin City for the week.”

“Great. How about her?” Ava holds up a card of the fucking redhead from earlier. Deborah sighs.

“Your girlfriend, apparently.” Deborah says dryly. 

“Okay, you say you’re not jealous, but you sound jealous,” Ava says, putting the card down. “If you don’t want me fucking other people, we need to have a conversation about that.”

“Ava.” Deborah says sternly, voice lowered. 

“What? We’re driving. No one can hear us.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you. Not here.”

“Not ever, from the sound of it.” Ava says, rolling her eyes. She eases up on the gas as they approach the first hole. Everybody else is already there waiting for them. Ava parks the cart and goes to stand, but Deborah puts a firm hand on her shoulder. 

“No. You stay here. I don’t need you getting distracted again,” she says. Ava glares at her. Deborah knows she’s being immature. They both are. At least Ava has an excuse — she’s young enough to get away with it — but Deborah’s powerful enough to get away with it too. Two can play at this game. She stands and marches off to the tee, leaving Ava behind. 

–

Nine holes later, Ava drives the two of them back to the resort in a grouchy silence. She parks the cart and storms inside, but Deborah’s right behind her. 

“Get changed. I’ll meet you in the lobby after dinner so we can go to the bar together."

“Why? Everyone else is gonna be there.” Ava says. 

“Exactly. Evenings are prime socialization time. We can make a good impression on whoever wasn’t in our group today.” 

“You mean you can make a good impression.” Ava says. “Everyone else isn’t gonna ‘get’ me.” 

“Ava,” Deborah sighs. She always takes everything so personally. It’s inconvenient. “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“Then how did you mean it?” Ava asks, arms crossed defensively. 

“This place is packed with rich, old white men. The exact group you take a swing at every hour of the day —” Deborah holds up a finger, cutting off whatever Ava’s about to say, “And yes, I agree with your points. But they won’t. I need them to like me so we can have a bigger impact together. So yes, I want you there, but I need you to be quiet.”  

Ava considers this quietly, still sulking. “Fine. Sorry for getting so butthurt about it. I just felt left out.” 

“You’re fine, Ava,” Deborah sighs. “I’ll see you back at the bar in an hour.” 

—

Ava’s more punctual this time around. She arrives just a minute after the hour in a patterned button up and tight jeans. She gives Deborah a wave as soon as she spots her. 

“Come on. Let’s work the room.” Deborah says. Ava mimes zipping her lips and tossing the key, then gives her a thumbs up.

The bar is bustling with men, just as Deborah anticipated. Mostly old, mostly white. She makes her rounds, and Ava does a surprisingly good job at keeping quiet and nodding along, even when Deborah compliments Barry Plutz on his creative political ideas. Maybe she doesn’t give Ava enough credit. The kid really can grin and bear it when a situation calls for it. 

They wind up on a couch together, smoking cigars with Bill Blort who recounts his most recent trip to Dubai. She’s certain Ava has opinions about that. Ava has opinions about everything. Despite that, Ava holds her tongue and laughs at all the right times. She really is quite charming, in her odd little way. Deborah catches herself staring for a moment too long, up until a voice nearby says, “Deborah Vance! The one and only.”

It’s Walt McCarthy, marching across the room with glowing, unearned confidence. Deborah readies her conversation topics — doomsday prepping, toasted ravioli, Cardinals baseball — but instead he knocks the wind out of her when he looks at Ava and says, “Is this your granddaughter?” 

It’s not the first time it’s happened, and it certainly won’t be the last — but it is the first time it’s happened since she and Ava slept together. Deborah holds both images together in her mind and feels sick. She tries to recover, “Hah! No, this is my —”

“Ava. I’m her Ava.” It’s the first time she’s spoken up all evening other than the occasional hello or thank you. She turns to Deborah — “If anything, I’m the grandparent here. She’s always dragging me out to these things late at night.” She puts on a particularly crotchety old voice and adds, “Come on, lady! I need my nine hours.”

“Well, hello, Ava,” Walt smiles, ignoring the joke. He seats himself on the sofa next to Bill. “So, what brings you here?” 

“I write for Deborah,” Ava says, quickly turning the attention back to her. “She’s pretty fucking funny on her own, though. She’d make a great host for Late Night.”

“Oh, I’m sure. She’s quite captivating to watch.” Walt says. 

“I know,” Ava takes a drag from her cigar, then sputters and coughs a bit. “Gorgeous, right?”

“You both are.” Bill chimes in, eyes fixed solely on Ava now.  

“Yeah. Nice to see such a pretty young face hanging out with us old farts.” 

Ah. It should’ve been obvious to Deborah from the start: these men are more interested in Ava than they are in her. Of course they are. She’s young and perky and has been quiet all night. Men go wild for that sort of thing. Deborah has yet to decide if this is working for or against her favor. 

“Well, glad my company is welcome,” Ava says. She shoots Deborah a playful but loaded look. “Deborah here wasn’t so sure I’d fit in.”

“You kidding? It’s great to see a pretty, young girl involved with our crowd.” Walt says. Deborah watches in real time as Ava bites back a comment — probably something about how saying “girl” instead of “woman” infantilizes her — and instead smiles politely. Deborah’s grateful for it. 

“Well, she’s earned it,” Deborah says, giving Ava’s knee a squeeze. “She’s a hard worker.” 

“Doubt you’d need to be with those hips,” Bill says, out of absolutely fucking nowhere. It lands awkwardly flat in the middle of the conversation, but somehow that doesn’t deter him from adding, “Lotta men here this week that would give you whatever you want for free.”

“I know I would.” Walt laughs. 

“Maybe you should take him up on that.” Bill says. “Or me. Could give you a tour of the Dubai house, if you like.” 

Ava’s shoulders have become increasingly tense in the last fifteen seconds. Her eyes dart between both men, significantly less confident than she was just moments before. 

“Uh, yeah. We’ll see,” she laughs, shakily. “Personally, I like the work experience.” 

“Plenty of men you could have experiences with here,” Walt says, mostly to Bill, who lets out a big belly laugh in response. It’s absolutely disgusting. Deborah seethes. 

“Um. Sure. Excuse me.” Ava snubs out her cigar and marches for the exit. It’s entirely unlike her, the girl who caused a scene when David Blaine told her to smile. Deborah gives the men an apologetic wave and takes off after her. 

“Ava?” Deborah jogs out into the hall and puts a hand on her shoulder. Ava spins on her heel.

“Nope. Sorry. Can’t do it. That skeezed me out.” She puts a hand against her forehead. “I think I’m just gonna go back to my room. I haven’t really been saying anything useful this evening anyway and —”

“Come back to my room with me.” Deborah says, suddenly. 

Ava blinks at her. “What?”

“I haven’t been fair to you today. We have all week to win these people over. I don’t want to lose you in the process.” She smooths a reassuring hand up and down Ava’s arm. “Please?” 

“Um, okay.” Ava says, taking her sweet time to process everything Deborah just said. “Sure.” 

– 

The minibar in Deborah’s hotel suite isn’t anything special, but it’ll do. She mixes up a cocktail for each of them while Ava sits, leg bouncing restlessly on the edge of her bed. Ava’s silence throughout the evening seems to have carried over into the bedroom, which is entirely unlike her. It’s definitely a cause for concern. 

“You okay?” Deborah asks as she shakes her drink. 

“Fine,” Ava says. 

“You’re doing the leg thing,” Deborah says with a nod. 

Ava stills herself. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine. That really got to you, huh?”

“I’m just bugged,” Ava shrugs. “Would’ve been nice to deliver a killer zinger to those guys, but you know. This is about building bridges, not burning them.”

“I mean, I appreciate it, but burning a bridge or two is forgivable in that circumstance.” Deborah says. She hates the idea of Ava making herself small, even for her sake. She crosses the room and hands Ava her drink. 

“I’m sorry for bailing. It was just a lot of attention really fast and I didn’t wanna blow it for you.” Ava takes a sip of the cocktail and winces at the burn. 

“Please, you did us a favor. I’d had enough of hearing about Bill's adventures in Dubai,” Deborah says. “Besides, I’d rather I be the one to talk about your hips.”

Ava blushes. “It’s hot when you do it.” 

“Good. Speaking of,” Deborah swirls her drink in her hand. “How did today compare to what we’ve been doing?”

It takes a moment for Ava to realize what she means, but then she puts the pieces together. “Oh! You mean with Megan?” Deborah nods. “It was fun. Different, but fun.” She pokes her tongue out, playfully. “You sure you’re not jealous?” 

“Not jealous, just curious,” Deborah says. “What’d you do?”

Ava gets a disgustingly smug grin on her face. “She fucked me with a golf club.”

“Jesus Christ, Ava!” Deborah winces. “That can’t be sanitary.”

“Don’t worry. She used a condom.”

“Still…” Deborah looks her up and down. “I might wanna hose you down before I take another crack at things down there.” 

“Fair. But no golf clubs went anywhere near my mouth…” Ava smiles, setting down her drink on the bedside table. 

Deborah eyes her. “What are you suggesting?”

“Maybe I can show you how good I am at service work.”

Deborah rolls her eyes. “You really do have a one track mind, don’t you?”

“Yep,” Ava says, sliding a hand up Deborah’s thigh. “Now can I fuck you or not?”

In all honesty, Deborah wants to. It’s been a highly social day, and she wants to be rewarded for her performance, but admitting to what she wants is just too easy. She plays it coy and reaches past Ava for the stack of flashcards on the nightstand.

“Mm. Maybe. We should really use this time to study.”

It’s Ava’s turn to roll her eyes. “Fine. We can multitask.” She gives Deborah a playful shove backwards onto the bed. “You can go to town on those cards, and I can go to town on you.”

“I can work with that,” Deborah says. It’s all Ava needs to hear. She’s already unbuttoning Deborah’s pants and tugging them down both legs, kissing feverishly up her thighs as she does. Deborah thumbs through the flashcards in her hands, feigning disinterest. At the top of the stack is Walt fucking McCarthy, with his shiny toupee and wrinkles botoxed into oblivion. Deborah can’t help but laugh. She turns the card for Ava to see. “Look who it is.”

“God. Don’t kill the mood,” Ava groans. 

“He and Bill really wanted to fuck you,” Deborah says, flipping the card back over to take another look at him. She can’t imagine Ava with a man like that, though Ava’s type is hardly consistent. “I’m sure everyone in that room did.” 

“Yeah, well, too bad.” Ava says, propping herself up on her elbows. “I’d rather be yours.” 

Yours. It’s so possessive. It ignites something desperate and hungry inside of Deborah that she quickly stomps out. She resumes her casual act. “I thought you’re a ‘woman of the people?’ You wouldn’t give someone else a shot?”

Ava wrinkles her nose. “Well, not him.” 

“No, not him.” Deborah tosses his card onto the mattress. She holds up another — Carter Walsh, the Comms King of Kansas. She grins. “How about Carter?”

“No chance.” Ava shakes her head, disgusted, but then her eyes land on Deborah and something clicks. “Unless, you wanted me to?” Deborah says nothing, but apparently nothing is very telling. “Oh my god, Deborah!” 

“It’s just an amusing thought, that’s all.” Deborah says, hands raised in surrender.

“You’re not seriously turned on by the thought of pimping me out?” Ava asks as she helps her shimmy out of her panties.

“No, not like that,” Deborah rolls her eyes. “It’d just be fun, telling you exactly who to be with, and exactly what they’re allowed to do with you.”

“Ah, I see. Nice little control fantasy you’ve got there.” Ava’s cheeks are red, but there’s intrigue in her eyes. “And what would you want me to do with Carter?”

“That’s a good question.” Deborah fists her hand in the back of Ava’s hair and guides her face between her legs. Ava takes the hint. She eagerly rasps her tongue up inside her with no reservations. “I think I’d let him fuck you from behind. You make such funny little noises when there’s something inside you. I’m curious how you sound when that thing is a cock.”

Ava moans against her as she swipes the flat of her tongue up over her clit. It rips a shudder from Deborah. “God, Deborah. That’s filthy.” 

“I know. But those funny little noises would feel extra good against my cunt,” Deborah says, twisting a strand of Ava’s hair between her thumb and forefinger as she grinds her hips against her face. “Maybe I’d let you go down on me while he’s at it. Fucking me with your dirty, little mouth while he fucks you with his big, thick cock.”

It's a generous assumption. Carter Walsh’s penis is probably average at best, but the words get such a delectable moan out of Ava that Deborah doubles down. 

“You like that? Good.” She gives Ava’s hair a gentle tug — and right on command, she moans again. “Because this isn’t about him. It’s about us.” It’s now that Deborah realizes Ava’s jerking her hips into her own hand, fully getting off on the fantasy as well. Deborah grins. “I know how much you can handle, baby. You’re safe with me. I wouldn’t let him touch you any way you wouldn’t like. Wouldn’t even let him come unless you liked the feeling of being filled up.”

That sends Ava right over the edge — and alarmingly fast. She seizes up and muffles a cry against Deborah, trying and failing to fuck her through her orgasm. The vibration is heavenly. Deborah holds Ava’s face flush against her as she rocks her hips into her, chasing her own climax. If Ava can’t finish the job, she will. She thrusts once, twice, and then comes apart with her. 

Deborah crumples back against the bed, gasping for breath, as Ava collapses on top of her. They lay together in stunned silence, all up until Ava lets out a delirious little laugh.

“Holy shit, that was fast. My body must be primed after today.” Ava wipes her face with the back of her hand. “Sorry. That just really worked for me, I guess.”

“Clearly,” Deborah says with all the composure she can manage, as if she didn’t just come all over Ava’s face over the exact same thing. 

“I always figured you’d be kinda kinky, but not like that.” Ava says. 

Deborah quirks an eyebrow. “No?”

“I mean, you’re a power bitch. It makes sense,” Ava shrugs. “I just figured that would manifest in more of a whips and chains and blindfolds kinda way.” 

“Jesus Christ, Ava,” Deborah says. “And how much thought have you put into that?” 

“A little,” Ava shrugs bashfully, then nods to the cards. “Okay. Who’s next?”

Deborah grins. She reaches for the stack of flashcards and lifts another.

“I need to get back in Morgan Henry’s good graces after fumbling his name,” she says, flipping the card around to show Ava. “So I’d want plenty of face time with him. But you… I bet you could fit his cock right in that big mouth of yours, couldn’t you?”

Ava smirks. “I think you’re overestimating my blowjob game.”

“I think you can do anything you set your mind to, dear.” Deborah says, running her fingers through Ava’s hair. “You could handle it. We could have a nice conversation about baseball, and you could suck him off right under the table while we do.”

“Hm, okay. And that would do it for you?” Ava asks, right before dipping her tongue back inside Deborah. God. She never tires of that feeling. Deborah melts against it. Ava’s tongue can make her come apart so easily, but she still finds herself scrambling to remain in charge. She doesn’t want Ava getting too cocky, after all. 

“It seems to be doing it for you,” Deborah says, writhing against Ava’s mouth. “I think you like doing things just because I tell you to. No matter how dirty.” She’s spot on, judging by how Ava’s hand snakes back down between her own legs, but no. Deborah doesn’t want a repeat of what just happened. She tugs her upright by the hair and tuts. 

“No. Don’t touch yourself this time,” she says, sternly. “I went easy on you the first round, but you’re supposed to be serving others. Not yourself.”  

Ava nods up at her, slack-jawed and glassy-eyed. “Yes, ma’am.”

Ma’am. That’s new. Deborah wonders where she picked it up. She reaches for another flashcard, a woman this time. Julie Barker. Mid-fifties. A diehard baker of sourdough bread. Deborah smiles. “Now her I’d let you fuck — just like this, but only because I’ve seen her husband. She deserves to come at least once in her life.”

Ava throws back her head and laughs. It’s such a delightful sound. Deborah wants to feel it back between her legs. “Okay, I’d be down for that. She’s not as pretty as you, though.”

“No one is,” Deborah says, fisting her hand back into Ava’s hair. “Now show me how you’d fuck her.” 

Ava dips back down and closes her lips around Deborah’s clit, sucking gently and — finally — uninterrupted by conversation. Deborah hums as she rocks into her mouth with slow, steady thrusts. God, it feels good. No one else does this for her. No one touches her quite like Ava. What they have is special. Electric. Deborah feels the need to tell her. 

“Forget Julia,” Deborah sighs. “This is all for me, and only me.” 

Something shifts, and now Ava’s devouring her. She takes the hand that was just inside herself and guides it up to Deborah’s cunt, slipping two fingers easily inside. Deborah tips her head back and gasps, dropping the flashcards. 

“Yes. That’s it baby. Show me how you’d fuck me in front of all of them.” Ava crooks her fingers forward with expert precision — she’s done this so many times before — and Deborah feels herself spiraling up and up. “Yes. Yes. That’s my girl.” 

Deborah has both hands on Ava’s head now, gripping her by the hair as she fucks against her fingers and face — faster, harder, louder. The bed’s squeaking, and Deborah’s tits are bouncing. Deborah catches Ava staring up at them and grinning and she drags her tongue firmly over her clit. She thrusts into her vigorously with her left hand while she digs her nails into Deborah’s thigh with her right. Deborah’s making the most undignified noises, but who cares? This is just for them, not anybody else. 

“Come on, baby.” Ava rasps, pulling away just long enough to say, “Come for me.” She puts her mouth back over Debroah’s clit and sucks one last time. It sends Deborah crashing through another orgasm. She squeezes her thighs tightly around Ava’s head through the aftershocks. 

Deborah collapses back against the mattress, chest heaving for breath as she comes back down. Ava climbs on top of her, face all wet and ruddy, and gives her a sloppy kiss on the lips. 

“Ava!” Deborah shoves her off, wiping her face with the back of her hand. 

Ava laughs. “What? Not a fan?”

“That’s disgusting!” 

“Hey, it could be worse. Could be a golf club.” Ava smirks, cozying up in the space beside her.

“God,” Deborah shakes her head. “Don’t remind me.” 

Ava flips through the remaining cards on the bed. “God, good thing you came when you did. Look who was next.” She holds up a picture of Marty. Deborah cackles. 

“We could always go for round three…” 

“Nope. Absolutely not.” Ava throws his card across the room. “Not even entertaining the idea.” 

Deborah smirks. “That’s payback for the kiss.”

“Sure it is.” Ava picks up Carter’s card and winces. “Damn. I’m having some major post-nut clarity right now. This guy?” 

Deborah sorts through the cards until she finds Megan’s, then raises it up for Ava to see. “Any ‘clarity’ over her?”

“Just that she’s very hot and we had a very fun time,” Ava says, smugly. “You sure you’re not jealous?” 

“No, Ava. I told you, things between us are casual. You can sleep with whoever else you like.”

“And so can you,” Ava shrugs. “You can just do so much better than Marty or Bob.”

“I’m not gonna fuck Bob, Ava. Jesus Christ. He’s a married man.” Deborah sighs. 

“So, you’re just gonna make him wanna fuck you. Got it. Talk about blue balls…” Ava bends Carter’s flashcard back and forth between her fingers. It makes a wobbly sound. “Blue balls, golf balls… there’s a joke in there somewhere.”

“If he wants to fuck me, that’s his problem,” Deborah shrugs. “Aren’t you the one who’s always telling me not to ‘victim-blame?’”

“Not at all the way you should be using that term, but okay. I get it. Slut it up, win him over. I support you.” Ava says, looking up at Deborah from where she rests against her. 

“And I support you too. Just maybe no more golf-club-sex,” Deborah shudders theatrically. “Jesus Christ. I hope I don’t touch the one you used tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah, that club is long gone,” Ava whistles. “Megan threw it somewhere outside. Good arm on that woman.”

“How considerate of her.” Deborah sits up and adjusts her blouse. “I’m gonna shower. You should too. We’ve got an early start tomorrow.” 

“Sure. See you then, boss.” Ava gives her a salute and hops ungracefully to her feet. Deborah tries to picture her doing that after sex with literally any of the affiliates. It would get quite the reaction from them, surely. These people don’t know Ava like her — and they don’t know her like Ava does, clearly, because Ava takes one look at her face and says, “What?” 

“Nothing, Ava,” Deborah says, waving her off. “Go freshen up.”

Chapter Text

Ava only silences her alarm twice the next morning. It’s a new personal victory. She hauls her ass out of bed and throws on her latest pair of golf clothes — a collared white polo layered over a long sleeved shirt underneath. It’s overcast this morning, and Ava’s cold tolerance has gone down significantly since moving out west. She’s gotta dress accordingly. 

She makes her way down to the cafe — god, she could suck a dick right now for a blueberry muffin — but she stops short when she sees Deborah. She’s sitting at the same booth from yesterday, only now she’s completely surrounded by people. Deborah says something Ava can’t hear, and the entire table erupts with laughter. 

This is good. No, it’s great. Deborah’s winning everyone over exactly as planned. Ava should be thrilled. She is thrilled. The sinking pit in her stomach is probably just because she hasn’t eaten yet. It’s fine. Surely Deborah saved a place for her so she won’t have to eat alone. She approaches the booth and waves awkwardly. “Hey, Deborah.”

“Ava! There you are,” Deborah smiles. “I was wondering when you’d roll out of bed. Everyone, this is Ava, my writer. She’s playing caddy for me this week.” Deborah turns and gestures across the table. “Ava, you remember Morgan Henry. We were just talking about The Rays.” 

Ah, yes. Morgan Henry. The man Deborah said she wanted Ava to blow under a table just the night before. Deborah knows exactly what she’s doing. The teasing glint in her eye says it all. Ava’s not about to act flustered, though. She forces a smile and says, “Oh, yeah. Hey Morgan. Um, is there room for me?”

“Oh, not at the table,” Deborah says, taking it a step further. “You might have to sit somewhere else, dear.” It must sound so innocuous to everyone else at the booth — everyone else who wasn’t in Deborah’s hotel suite last night. Ava knows she’s trying to rile her up sexually, and it’s not not working, but also: Ava hates eating alone. Her own insecurities trample out her other feelings entirely.

“Uh, yeah. No problem. Guess I’ll see you around.” Ava deflates. It’s like fucking high school all over again. 

Ava turns, head down, ready to march across the cafe when she collides head first into someone walking by. Coffee sloshes. Silverware clatters. Ava staggers backwards, already launching into apologies when she looks up and sees who it is. 

Oh, Jesus Christ. It’s Megan, and she’s fucking fuming. 

Ava’s eyes dip to where Megan’s breakfast (or what’s left of it) is splattered all over the front of her shirt. Well, her tits specifically. Ava stares for a moment too long, then wrenches her eyes away. “Holy shit, I’m so sorry —“ 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Megan says. 

“I was just getting breakfast —“ 

“The staff cafeteria is that way,” Megan points back to the hall. Ava’s ears burn as she’s hit with a wave of humiliation, and once again, not the fun kind. 

“Shit. Sorry.” Ava crouches down and scrambles to pick up the spilled plates. “Sorry about your shirt. Sorry.” 

“That’s right. Clean it up.” Megan says, and for some ungodly reason, Ava’s body takes a break from all the guilty panic and instead treats her to a hot surge of arousal. Ava squeezes her eyes shut. Not now. Not right fucking now. 

Ava stands shakily, head down again, and carries the plates over to the trash. She feels weak at the knees, and her brain can’t quite pinpoint if that’s from her mounting anxiety or from how randomly turned on she is. Neither is convenient. She drops off the plates and stuffs her hands into her pockets as she hurries outside. She doesn’t need breakfast today anyway. She just needs to get the hell out of here.

—

It’s Deborah who’s late this time around. Ava waits out front in the cart for her, fidgeting with the hem of her vest as she does. She’s wearing it the right way around today. Committing to the backwards bit two days in a row would’ve simply been overkill.

“We missed you at breakfast today.” Ava looks up and sees Deborah, looking radiant as always. She’s rocking a cute puffer vest over a leopard print shirt today. It’s so incredibly Deborah. It makes Ava’s heart flutter. “It’s a shame you couldn’t join us.” 

“Yeah, well. Didn’t exactly wanna end up on my knees for that guy.” Ava says, starting the cart. “It’s a fun fantasy, but not so fun in practice.”

“Looked like you ended up on your knees anyway,” Deborah smirks.

Ava winces. “Oh. Right. You saw that.” 

“The whole cafe did. God, that woman was mean to you.” Deborah shakes her head. “I was tempted to say something, but you both left so fast.” 

“I didn’t exactly wanna cause a bigger scene.” Ava says, and against her better judgment, adds, “The whole thing had me super horny anyway. Had to hit the bricks, STAT.” 

Deborah stares at her, absolutely baffled. “What?” 

Ava shrugs. “You heard me.”

“Jesus Christ. What is it you like so much about when women are mean to you?” Deborah asks. 

“I don’t know. It’s hot. I like the attention.” Ava shrugs again, keeping her eyes on the trail as she drives. 

“Well it’s not the good kind of attention.” Deborah says. 

“Speak for yourself.” Ava pulls up to the first hole and parks. “Anyway, go get ‘em, boss. I’ll be off to the side if you need me.” 

“Sure,” Deborah says, like she doubts Ava’s capable of staying out of the way, but Ava’s determined to prove her wrong. She’s not some sad little shelter dog who’ll always come at Deborah’s beck and call. If she needs attention, there’s other ways she can get it. 

—

It takes Ava five holes to realize that Megan’s behind her group today, not in front, but once she puts that together, she has no problem spotting her through her rangefinder. She’s changed her shirt since breakfast, which makes sense. Ava had completely desecrated her OOTD back in the cafe. She’s in a red top now that absolutely suits her and her tits. They really are incredible. Ava would gladly eat spilled breakfast off of them.

“What are you doing?” Ava spins around and gets a very close up image of Deborah through the rangefinder. She puts it down. 

“Just appreciating the view,” Ava says.

“Hm. And I take it your little girlfriend is part of that view?” Deborah says, nodding to the golf carts pulling up to their hole. 

“She’s not my girlfriend, but yes. Lots to see.” Ava pokes her tongue out and pockets the rangefinder. 

“Well, she’s headed this way. Go get an eyeful.” Deborah says as she steps aside. She’s not kidding. Megan is walking directly towards her. All of Ava’s sexual-fueled confidence dissolves into panic.

“Hey, Caddy Girl,” Megan says. “Wanna take me back for lunch again?”

“Oh! Uh, yes, ma’am!” Ava grins. Deborah shoots her a side eye as soon as she says “ma’am.” 

“Don’t act so excited,” Megan says, sharply. “There’s people watching.”

“Oh, fuck. Sorry.” Ava dissolves all over again. She’s so used to the “sneaking around with your closeted, older hookup” thing with just Deborah that she forgot that could also be the case here. She fights the urge to apologize again. The less she says, the better. 

Megan turns to Deborah (who hasn’t fully stepped out of earshot) and gives her a once over, like she’s assessing her competition. “I’m sure that’s okay with you?” she says, looking back up at her. 

“Of course,” Deborah gives her a tight smile. “Why wouldn’t it be?” 

“Just checking.” Megan says, then twirls on her heel and marches over to the tee. 

“Do you think she knows we fucked last night?” Ava leans over and asks.

Deborah gives her an incredulous look. “Why the hell would she think that? Did you say something?” 

“I didn’t say anything. That look she gave you was just very ‘I know what you are.’ You know, like the homophobic dog meme?”

Deborah narrows her eyes. “No, Ava. I don’t know.” 

“Oh my god. Okay. So there’s this gay couple that has a dog named Whitney Chewston —“ That’s all Ava’s able to get in before Deborah walks away. “Oh, okay. See you after lunch, I guess.” 

—

They break for lunch at the end of the sixth hole. As planned, Megan walks over to Ava’s cart instead of her own. She sits in the passenger seat, eyes fixed ahead, and says, “Drive.” 

Ava’s learned a thing or two from yesterday. No small talk, for starters. The two drive together in a silence that would normally make Ava uncomfortable, but knowing what’s coming instead makes it arousing. Ava pulls right past the front entrance and drives back behind the shed without having to be asked, then parks the cart.

“Okay, so —“ Ava doesn’t have time to finish that thought. Whatever it may have been, it’s gone now. Megan’s kissing and straddling her, each leg thrown around Ava’s hips. It’s so much so quickly, which seems to be Megan’s speed. Ava melts blissfully against her. 

“I saw you looking at my tits today,” Megan says, pulling back as she tugs Ava’s jeans down her legs. Ava’s cheeks go a deep shade of red. 

“Oh, ah! —“ Ava gasps as Megan sinks her fingers inside of her — again, so much so fast. “S-Sorry.”

“You’re just like all the other boys on this course.” Megan fumbles her other hand up the front of Ava’s shirt. Her fingers trace around, curiously groping, until she finds her nipple and gives it a sharp pinch. The sensation rips right through her, and Ava cries out — but Megan’s lips are back on hers, kissing and sucking to stifle the sound. “But you can’t help yourself, can you? Poor little thing.” 

Ava shakes her head. Normally she’d detest an idea like that. It’s not a woman’s fault if someone objectifies the perfectly good body she came with — but also, Ava really does turn into a bumbling mess around a good pair of tits. She’s known this about herself since she was a teenager, long before she properly came out to anyone else. Megan squeezes her nipple again, and Ava wails.

“Do you wanna see them?” Megan asks. Ava nods frantically, staring up at her with drunk eyes. Megan withdraws her hand from between Ava’s legs to lift her shirt up over her head. She unclasps her bra, and Ava’s staring all over again, but not for long. Megan fists a hand into the back of Ava’s hair and buries her face between her breasts. Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Ava’s the wettest she’s been in recent memory. She closes her eyes and sees God. She moans against Megan’s chest, enveloped in the scent of a woman who’s been strutting around a golf course under a blazing hot sun all day. She smells like it — not bad, just musky — and somehow, that makes Ava hornier. Without thinking, Ava opens her mouth and takes one of Megan’s tits into her mouth. 

This is apparently not the move. Megan yanks Ava back by the hair and pins her to the seat. 

“Whoah —“

“I didn’t say you could do that.” 

Ava’s cheeks burn. “Shit, sorry. I should’ve asked —“

“Needy little bitch,” Megan spits right on her face, and Ava flinches. She feels a pathetic little twitch between her thighs as she lifts her hand to wipe it off with her sleeve. “You’re gonna pay for that.”

“Sorry,” Ava says again. Her brain is lagging one step behind. Megan slides her fingers back inside Ava and begins thrusting, hard and fast. She lifts the hand she’s not using to fuck her and closes it tightly around Ava’s throat. 

Ava’s never been choked before. It’s always been one of those sexual things she figured she’d get to at some point — with lots of discussion beforehand. It just seems too risky, cutting off someone’s ability to breathe, but now here she is, going red in the face as Megan rams her fingers into her. 

Megan lets up, and Ava gasps. “Whoah, hey —“

As soon as Ava catches her breath, Megan cuts her right off again, hand squeezing tight enough to bruise. Ava squirms underneath her. She feels her fingers pummeling in and out of her so quickly, and Ava can’t moan or speak or do anything about it. It’s making her lightheaded, and somehow, that sends her right over the edge. 

Ava comes abruptly, seizing up around Megan’s fingers. Megan takes pity on her and releases her grip as she shakes through her orgasm. Ava slumps back against the seat, coughing and sputtering for air. 

“That’s a good girl,” Megan says, stroking the same cheek that she spat on with the back of her hand. Ava’s head is spinning. 

“What the fuck…” 

“You poor thing. Come here.” Megan threads her fingers in Ava’s hair again and buries her face between her breasts. Ava is so achingly disoriented. She squirms against her, weakly, undecided on if this is hot as hell or super fucked up. “I’ll let it slide this time if you wanna suck them. You can’t help yourself, after all.” 

Ava has qualms about the lack of discussion for everything they’re trying, but her brain lights up like the sign of The Palmetto over this offer. They can talk about it all later — after she gets her tits in her mouth, of course. God, Freud would have a fucking field day with her. Something about how her own mother never gave her enough attention, so now she’s out here sucking some stranger’s tits over it. Man, fuck that guy. Even if he is right. 

Ava closes her mouth around Megan’s nipple. She licks and sucks and hums as Megan thrusts her fingers into her at a building pace. Ava feels herself climbing steadily to another orgasm, but then Megan withdraws all the way. Ava moans, dragging her teeth gently over Megan’s nipple as a pathetic little plea to get her to stay inside. 

Megan tuts. “You greedy little thing. Every part of you wants me, isn’t that right?” Ava nods, though she’s not entirely sure what she’s agreeing to. “You’re wet enough. Should be easy.” She smears Ava’s slick across her fingers, and then nudges her legs back apart, but when she slides back in, it’s not in the hole she’s expecting. 

Oh.

Oh god. 

The only time Ava’s ever come close to doing butt stuff was years ago, back when Ruby had mistakenly slipped a finger into the wrong hole when they were drunkenly fucking. Ava had been so cool about it — she was a good girlfriend that way — but Ruby had been mortified, so they never revisited it. But this? This is intentional. Megan knows exactly what she’s doing.

Ava’s asscheeks clench around Megan’s fingers with discomfort, but it’s the kind of discomfort that borders on feeling good. Her whole body’s gone rigid — like she’s not fully convinced this is happening. She can’t stop thinking about how lucky she is that her fancy hotel suite had a bidet. 

“You’re so tense,” Megan says, curling a finger inside of her — and that certainly doesn’t help with the tension. Ava’s nails dig into Megan’s skin and she stifles a whine. “Relax, Caddy Girl. I got you.” 

Megan cradles Ava by the back of her head and pushes her face back into her breasts. Ava’s easy to read, clearly, because that’s exactly what she needs. She wraps her arms around Megan and goes right back to sucking her breast, sweaty bodies pressed flush against each other as she does. Tit-sucking really does put Ava in such a state of zen, even if there’s a finger up her ass — two now, based on the feel. Something, something, Freud. Something, something, oral fixation. Ava pushes the thoughts away. Come on, man. Let her self-soothe in peace. 

“That’s a good girl,” Megan says. “You’re not fighting it anymore.” 

Megan’s right. She’s not. In fact, this is really doing it for her. Ava slides one of her hands between the two of them and lazily starts to finger herself. 

“You can touch yourself better than that,” Megan says, and so Ava does, thrusting harder up into herself even as her energy starts to wane, whining as she does. Ava feels so fucking full, with a tit in her mouth and fingers in both her cunt and ass. She’s not gonna last much longer. She can hardly breathe. It’s like being choked all over again. Ava thinks back to the feeling of Megan’s hand on her throat, and then she’s coming with a muffled cry. 

It’s a long one. Ava shakes and whines, biting down to stifle the sound, but she remembers what she’s biting down on. Megan yanks her back by the hair. “Ow! What the fuck?” 

Ava stares up at her with the most undignified string of drool hanging from her mouth. She wipes her face with her sleeve, embarrassed. “Shit. Sorry. Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” Megan says, rubbing at the bite mark on her tit. “Jesus. Just don’t try that shit again.” 

Again. Ava’s heart flutters. So this isn’t the last time they’ll be doing this. Ava stares up at Megan dopily as she pulls her bra and shirt back on. 

“Clean me up. I don’t want any evidence of what we just did.” Megan says, holding her fingers out for Ava’s mouth. Ava really should be more grossed out by this, but she eagerly takes Megan’s fingers into her mouth and sucks, staring up at her through heavy-lidded eyes. 

“Do you want me to touch you?” Ava asks when Megan pulls her fingers out and wipes them, yet again, on Ava’s clothes instead of her own. She’s a gentleman, after all. She doesn’t want to just take without giving. 

“Maybe some other time.” Megan says. “I’m hungry. Drive us back for lunch.”

Ava nods, tugging her pants back up. “Whatever you say, ma’am.”

Chapter Text

Ava’s late — again — but this time, Deborah’s not concerned. She’s just annoyed.  

Deborah doesn’t care about her little arrangement with Megan, really. What Ava does on her lunch break is her own business, but when it eats into her tee time, then they have a problem. She’s supposed to be chatting up Bob. Every minute with him counts. Plus, she’s emceeing tonight. The more time she spends socializing with others, the more warmed up she’ll be. She can’t have Ava interfering with that. They’re too close to fumble things now. 

Deborah looks up from where she leans against the golf cart and sees Ava, racing out the doors with a sandwich hanging from her mouth. She’s in another new pair of golf clothes, again. Deborah sighs. Good to be hygienic, she supposes, but is the sex really athletic enough to warrant all these wardrobe changes? 

Deborah climbs into the cart and shoots Ava a look. “Again? Really?”

“Sorry, boss.” Ava says through a mouthful of sandwich. She throws herself into the driver’s seat and slams on the gas. Deborah white knuckles the arm rests as the cart peels off onto the trail. 

“What’s with the sandwich? You should’ve eaten already.” Deborah says. 

“Hey, take it easy on me. I didn’t have breakfast this morning and I don’t wanna pass out on the course, or the ‘green,’ or whatever it is you golf people call it.” Ava wolfs down the remainder of her sandwich, cheeks stuffed like a cartoon chipmunk. 

“And whose fault is that?” Deborah asks, unimpressed. 

“Yours, kinda. You didn’t save me a seat.” Ava says. 

“Whether or not I save you a seat should have nothing to do with you feeding yourself.” Deborah says back. 

“God. You sound like me,” Ava says, then winces instantly as she regrets the jab. She’s not wrong. It is a bit of a role reversal. Ava loves to make sure Deborah’s eating enough. It’s a royal pain in Deborah’s ass, but secretly, Deborah does like feeling looked after. “Sorry. Didn’t mean for that to sound harsh. Loaded subject, I know.”

“You’re fine, Ava.” Deborah says, looking away. Ava’s already on her nerves. She doesn’t want to get into the weeds with Ava about her “disordered eating” and escalate things further. But there is one thing she doesn’t mind escalating further — “Any golf clubs go anywhere they shouldn’t?” 

“Nope, but we did do a lot of really fucking weird stuff that I’m not sure how I feel about. I can give you the play by play later.” Ava says. She seems a little less smug about the whole thing than the day before. “What about you? Have you fucked Bob yet?”

“I told you I wasn’t gonna fuck Bob.” Deborah exhales through her nose. “You do listen when I talk, don’t you?” 

“Yeah, of course I do.” Ava says with a dismissive shrug. 

“Don’t you mean, ‘of course I do, ma’am?’” Deborah says. Ava’s cheeks immediately go pink. “Oh yeah. Don’t think I didn’t connect the dots there. God. I can’t imagine what other shit she’s making you call her.” 

“I mean, if you want the play by play now —”

“Jesus Christ. No.” Deborah rubs at her temples. It was a bad idea to bring this up now. “Listen, I’m fine with you having fun, but not if it gets in the way of what we’re actually here for.” 

“I know, I know. Sorry.” Ava says, fidgeting a bit in her seat. “I won’t fuck off on my lunch break tomorrow. I promise.” 

“Thank you,” Deborah says. Ava pulls the cart up to the next hole and parks it, more gracefully than any of her previous parking attempts so far. Maybe she’s getting somewhat decent at this after all.

As Deborah steps out of the cart, Ava gives her a sheepish thumbs up. “Good luck out there, boss. You got this.” Once again, Deborah waves her off. 

—

Deborah’s on autopilot with Bob this afternoon. She cracks jokes that are all too easy and laughs at everything he says, but her brain is elsewhere. Something about Ava seemed off earlier, which is saying something. This kid’s as weird as they come. Bob’s about halfway through a story about his last vacation to South Korea, when Deborah looks over to where Ava’s normally been standing and sees — no Ava at all. Deborah’s stomach drops as she scans the course for her.

“The skincare there is incredible, and so cheap — not that money’s a concern for us, but you know. My wife did one of every procedure at this clinic we went to —” 

“Sorry, Bob. One sec,” Deborah says, placing a polite hand on his arm. He looks taken aback by the interruption, but Deborah quickly recovers — “Gotta go grab my notepad. I need the number of the place she went.” She laughs, he laughs, great. Balance restored. Deborah steps aside in search of Ava. 

She approaches the golf cart, which looks empty, but when she circles around front she sees Ava’s laying across both seats with an arm draped over her face. She looks like a swooning Victorian woman — if a swooning Victorian woman were dressed in a boyish caddy uniform, that is. “Ava? Are you okay?” 

Ava sits up with a jolt. “Shit. Fine. Sorry.” She gives a thumbs up. “Just sore. I’m good.” 

“Okay…” Deborah says, unconvinced. “Regular sore or ‘something’s wrong’ kind of sore?”

“Just overdid it, I think.” Ava sits back up, but Deborah stops her with a firm hand on her shoulder. 

“Nope. Stay here. You’re fine. Do you need to go back to your room?” 

Ava shakes her head. “I’m seriously fine. I think I’ll just sit through the next hole or two and then I’ll be good as new. Don’t worry about me.” 

“Alright. Just take care of yourself,” Deborah says, not entirely convinced. “And drink some water. I can’t have you keeling over from dehydration this week.” 

“You got it, boss.” Ava gives Deborah a dorky little salute — and somehow, it’s charming. It shouldn’t be. Nothing about the way Ava moves or speaks or dresses should be, but it simply is. To Deborah, at least. But this isn’t something she likes to let on, especially not in the company of affiliates, so Deborah rolls her eyes as she walks back over to the tee. 

She pulls out the notepad she had in her pocket the entire time and turns back to Bob. “Alright, so what was the name of this Korean spa?” 

—

Three holes later, and Ava’s still spending most of her time sitting in the cart. At least she’s vertical now. That’s an improvement. Bob’s moved on from the topic of traveling abroad and now tells Deborah about the bidding wars the network recently had with Disney. Deborah’s a performer, and a good one at that, so she reacts to all of this information with just the right amount of enthusiasm and intrigue that Bob expects. 

When she steps aside to rehydrate, she sees Megan has arrived at the hole and is stalking right up to Ava with a predatory look in her eyes. Deborah’s stomach turns. “Hey, Caddy Girl. Why aren’t you standing with all the other caddies?”

“Uh, sorry. Just taking a breather.” Deborah hears Ava say with a polite little wave. 

“I don’t see anybody else sitting down,” Megan says. Oh, Deborah could slap her, but she knows Ava would disapprove. 

“Uh, you’re right.” Ava rises shakily to her feet. Nope. That’s it. Deborah marches on over.

“She’s fine,” Deborah says, sharply. “Ava, sit back down.”

“I think she can handle it. She’s just as strong as all the other boys, aren’t you?” Megan says, and she has the nerve to lift Ava’s chin with her fingers. 

“She doesn’t have to prove anything to you. Ava, sit down.” Ava looks between the two of them — and Deborah can’t help but think of a video Josefina once showed her of two people running in opposite directions of their border collie to see which it would chase down. Ava’s not a dog, but Deborah has trained her well. She obediently sits back in the driver’s seat on command. 

“Fine,” Megan shrugs. “She’s your caddy, not mine.” She turns and marches back to the tee. 

“Thanks,” Ava says, sheepishly, once Megan’s out of earshot.

“You’re fine, honey,” Deborah uncaps her water bottle and passes it to Ava. “Drink some water.”

Ava takes a swig and wipes her face with the back of her hand. “So, big night tonight.”

“Apparently so.”

“You nervous?”

Deborah waves her off. “I’ll be fine. Just gotta keep moving. How about you — doing okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Ava says, taking another sip of water. “I can stop by your room after this and maybe we can workshop some jokes? Make sure you’re feeling confident? Plus, I don’t really know what I’m gonna wear. You can help me decide.”

Deborah’s warmed by the thought. In a perfect world, she’d have full control over Ava’s wardrobe, and she’d never have to see those horrible clunky boots again, or that ratty Nike shirt with all the holes. But being able to pick and choose — that’s a compromise she can work with. She smiles, pleased. “I’d like that. Stop by afterwards and bring some options. We’ll pick something nice.”

— 

Deborah had booked Ava’s room just a few doors down from her own when making initial reservations. She likes to have her close — maybe not too close that it raises any eyebrows, but close enough for when she needs to discuss strategy, or flashcards, or the occasional sex that comes with the flashcards. 

What makes this inconvenient, however, is that Ava is knocking on her door just moments after they saw each other in the lobby. Deborah hasn’t had time to change or shower, but to hell with that. Ava’s seen her naked a dozen times. They’re comfortable now. She won’t mind if she has to change in front of her again, even in a less-than-sexy context. 

“Alright, get in here,” Deborah says as soon as she opens the door. Ava trots in with an armful of clothes. When Ava said she needed help choosing an outfit, Deborah assumed she meant picking between two. Instead, it seems that she’s just emptied her entire suitcase into her arms and made a dash for Deborah’s room. 

“Okay, it’s a fancy dinner, so I brought options.” Ava says, dumping the pile onto Deborah’s bed. “There’s some button ups and ties, but I don’t know. Is that too butch for this crowd? Or is butch the way we wanna go here? Maybe it’ll scare Bill and Walt away.” 

“Maybe not a tie tonight, but a button up could work…” Deborah says, scanning the clothes on the bed. She taps a blue knit top with her finger. “Or this. It’s a good color on you.”

“Yeah? You think?” Ava asks, holding it up. Deborah takes it in — the awkward little pocket flaps with the deep red cuffs and collar. Deborah wouldn’t pick it for herself, but it is feminine enough for the occasion, she thinks. Perhaps the most feminine thing in the pile. It’s a good contrast to the caddy uniform she’s spent the last two days in. 

“Yep. That’s the one,” Deborah says. She tugs her own shirt over her head and tosses it on the bed as she walks to her closet. 

“Holy shit.” 

“What?” Deborah turns to see Ava staring. 

“You wore that on the course today?” Ava asks. Deborah’s eyes dip down to the lacy black bra she’s been wearing since sunrise. 

“Of course,” Deborah says, matter-of-fact. “I always dress to feel powerful, even if nobody sees.”

“Bullshit. You wanted somebody to see that.” Ava says, but Deborah simply shakes her head. “Really? No?”

“You should try it sometime. It would give you quite the confidence boost.” Deborah says, sliding out of her pants. She catches Ava getting an eyeful of the matching lace panties she wears underneath. 

“Holy shit, you committed. I mean, I get it. I’ve got a nice pair of Calvins that I wear when I wanna feel good, but still.” She gestures broadly to Deborah. “For golf? That can’t be comfortable.”

“Power isn’t supposed to feel comfortable. You have to work for it.” Deborah says, thumbing through her own outfit choices for the night. 

“That explains the heels,” Ava laughs. She begins taking off her own clothes: shirt, pants, other shirt. “You’re gonna do great tonight, by the way. No matter what you wear. They’re gonna love you, they already do.” It’s so sincere. Ava’s compliments always are. Deborah never grows tired of hearing them. 

“Thank you, baby,” Deborah says. Ava blushes and looks away.

“It’s sweet that you’ve started calling me that. I like it.” 

There’s that sincerity again, but Deborah’s not Ava. She can’t go long without making things into a joke — “Oh yeah? You don’t prefer ‘Caddy Girl?’” 

Fortunately for her, Ava laughs. “That’s different. Stuff with Megan, I don’t know. It’s really intense. Fun, but intense. It’s no competition to what we do, for the record.” It’s reassuring, yes, but Deborah’s brain latches onto the word “intense.” It sounds like Ava’s being polite now, not sincere. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Deborah asks. “You seemed so beaten down on the course today.”

Ava shrugs. “I think Megan was a little too rough with me, but that’s okay. We can have a conversation about that when we hook up again.”

When, not if. Deborah bites the inside of her cheek. “Maybe you need a break from sex, honey.”

“Rough sex,” Ava clarifies. “We could always be soft. You know, like, right now you could sit on my face. Gently. I’m sure I’d be able to handle that.”

Deborah rolls her eyes. There’s that one track mind again, but she’s not much better. She sits on the bed beside her so that their bare legs touch. “So what was this about a play by play?”

Ava’s been so cocky lately, Deborah’s surprised by how quickly the question makes her shrink. “Oh, I don’t know. Just a bunch of kink stuff. Nothing interesting.” 

“Oh come on. It can’t get worse than the golf club.” Deborah says. “You seemed so eager to tell me earlier.”

“I don’t know about ‘eager…’” Ava says, twisting her hands, but Deborah’s not letting her go this easy. She sighs. “Let’s see. There was some choking, and some butt stuff, and at one point I had something in every single opening I have to offer at the same time. Soooo, there’s that.”

“Jesus.” Deborah breathes. That paints quite the picture. “Is that the kind of stuff you want us to be doing?”

“Not really? I mean, I’m adventurous, but I’m gonna be real with you, I wasn’t planning on any of that with Megan. She just kinda threw it on me.” Ava says. 

Deborah stares at her, stunned. “Without asking?”

“Yeah…” Ava grimaces. “Stop. I know. You don’t even have to say it —”

“Ava, come on. What would you say if it were me?”

“I’d be pissed for you. I don’t know, I still had fun and everything. It’s not like she cornered me and attacked me from behind or anything. I just could’ve used a warning, that’s all.”

It doesn’t sit right with Deborah. None of it does. It doesn’t matter if Ava was fine with everything leading up to it, she should’ve been asked. She thinks back to how distraught Ava was when she learned about Ira, the creep from the comedy club decades ago — and how her brain got those annoying, empathetic little tendrils into the subject and just refused to let it go. So much about Ava is contagious. Her laugh, her habits, her politics. It appears Deborah has caught her sense of justice too. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t see her again,” Deborah says, tracing a finger up along Ava’s thigh. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“It’s okay. Seriously. If we do hook up again, I’ll talk to her. But I’m tired of talking about her right now. I wanna talk about you.” It’s a clever way to pivot — Ava knows her well. She climbs on top of Deborah and kisses her, not so much hungry as it is just excited and loving. “I’m gonna talk you up tonight at dinner. I’ll tell everybody at my table how perfect of a host you’re gonna be, because you are getting Late Night. It’s basically in the bag.”

Deborah smiles against Ava’s kisses, but doesn’t kiss back. “You flatter me.”

“I mean, yeah. It’s probably very flattering to hear you’re the funniest,” — kiss — “sexiest,” — kiss — “most extraordinary person in the room. But it’s also true.” Ava’s so sweet, she always is, but Deborah can’t hear it right now. She looks down. “Hey. What’s wrong?” 

“Would you have done those things with Megan if she did ask?” Deborah says. Ava’s smile fades. 

“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. I think I’d wanna be more comfortable with someone first,” Ava says, tracing an absentminded finger over the lace of Deborah’s panties.

“But you’re comfortable with me?” Deborah says.

“Deborah, I don’t think I can handle any more fingers up my butt. Not today.” Ava deadpans. 

“Not what I’m asking. But since you brought it up…” Deborah hooks a hand behind Ava’s knee and guides her on top to straddle her. “Is there anything you do wanna try?” 

“I mean, I basically have a sexual bucket list.” Ava laughs, settling into her lap. “We could spend all week just going at it like rabbits, but unfortunately we both have jobs to do.” 

“Good thing our jobs are basically each other,” Deborah says. “Now what was it you thought I’d be into? ‘Whips and chains and blindfolds?’” 

Ava laughs again, more embarrassed this time. “Is that how I worded it?”

“Something like that. I don’t have any of those at my disposal, but…” Deborah trails her fingers across the bed and grabs one of Ava’s ties. “This could work?” 

Ava’s cheeks are bright red. “Are you being serious?” 

“Depends. Would you be into it?” 

“I mean, fuck yeah. Absolutely. But we have dinner in an hour…” 

“Exactly. In an hour.” Deborah traces her fingers over Ava’s skin, prompting goosebumps. “Can you be fast?” 

Ava’s pupils are big and dark. “I’m basically a pro at lightning fast sex. Been practicing a bunch this week.” 

“Good,” Deborah says, tilting Ava’s chin up with her fingers just like Megan had earlier that day. “May I tie you up?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Deborah smirks. “It’s not so bad when it’s me you’re calling that.” 

She nudges Ava off her lap and stands to clear the bed. Ava wastes no time stripping down and scrambling to the top of the mattress. She grins ear to ear as she waits for Deborah to restrain her. Now that’s an “enthusiastic yes” if Deborah’s ever seen one. Deborah takes both Ava’s ties and secures each of her wrists to the bedposts — not too tight, but enough to keep her firmly in place. When she pulls back to look at her, Ava’s chest is heaving with deep, excited breaths. 

“Feel okay?” Deborah asks.

“Yeah, D. This fucking rocks.” Ava sighs, staring up at her with all the adoration in the world. It’s funny — Ava’s the one bared before her with her hands all tied, but Deborah can’t help but feel exposed. 

“Shame we don’t have a blindfold.” Deborah says, and soon as she says it, the idea hits her. “Unless…” Deborah shimmies out of her lace panties and holds the pair out for Ava to see. “May I?” 

Ava’s pupils are fucking enormous. Deborah can’t recall having seen her this turned on before. “Holy shit,” she says, voice squeaking like a prepubescent boy. “Yeah. Yes please.” 

“Only if you’re sure. I did wear these all day, they’re probably filthy —“

“Fuck, D. That only makes it hotter.” Ava moans. She squeezes her thighs together, squirming in place. “Please.” 

And who is Deborah to keep her good girl waiting? She holds out her panties and drapes them carefully over Ava’s face. Ava lets out another moan, and god, she sounds absolutely wrecked. 

“Fuck, you smell incredible. I’m like, so embarrassingly wet right now, dude.” Ava says, writhing with delight. “I’m gonna die if you don’t touch me.” 

“Dude” is one of the least sexy things Deborah’s been called during sex. She intends to make Ava pay for that — “Ah, ah. I believe you made me an offer,” Deborah says, crawling on top of her. “If you’re so desperate for my panties, surely you want the rest?” 

“God, yes,” Ava squirms blindly beneath her, chest heaving. 

Deborah threads a hand through Ava’s hair and briefly drops the act. “Are you sure this is okay?”

“Yes. Please. Let me taste you.” Ava pants, so Deborah gives her what she wants — what they both want. She straddles her face with her thighs and sinks down. 

Ava gets right to work. She buries her mouth against Deborah’s cunt and begins lapping up inside her with long, hungry strokes. Deborah loves to give her a hard time for being an entitled little millennial (she can almost hear Ava correcting her that, technically, she’s Gen Z) but Ava really is a hard worker. She gives her all when she writes for Deborah, she’s shown up for every event Deborah’s asked her to, and most importantly of all — she’s absolutely ravishing Deborah right now with her tongue. When it matters, Ava puts in the work. She’s not afraid to get her hands (or in this case, her face) dirty. 

Deborah looks down and allows herself to take in the image of Ava like this — tied up and serving her, and only her. It’s sexy, yes, but knowing that this is exactly what Ava wants only makes it sexier. She winces at the thought of Ava on the golf course, putting up with things she didn’t like because it got Megan off. That’s not what she wants for Ava. She deserves better. They both do. 

Deborah can’t help but compare it to Bob’s boring anecdotes she heard throughout the day. She deserves a Golden Globe for how enamored she acted when he told her about his fifth yacht, or his third private jet — so many stories about such glamorous things that, somehow, circle back to being dull. 

Deborah doesn’t care for him. She cares for what he can do for her. It’s different. She knows that. She’s sure Ava knows it too, even though she’s been very clearly jealous these past few days over it — but Ava’s jealousy gives her a delicious twitch between her thighs. She grinds harder against Ava’s face, and Ava gets the message. She moans against her and drags the flat of her tongue up over her clit. 

“Fuck,” Deborah hisses. “That’s it. Just like that.” She rocks into Ava encouragingly. She’s doing great. She wants to tell her. She reaches behind her and gives Ava’s nipple a sharp squeeze as a reward, ripping a whine from her that sends exquisite vibrations up her cunt. She catches a glimpse over her shoulder of Ava’s thighs squeezed together, rocking against nothing as she chases relief. 

“My poor, sweet girl,” Deborah tuts. “It’ll be your turn soon.” She reaches around again and gives Ava’s other nipple a pinch this time, and oh, god — the noises coming out of Ava feel so good against her. Deborah’s getting close. 

“Any minute now,” Deborah teases. “Show me you can get the job done.” 

Ava, always eager to please, locks in. She closes her mouth around Deborah’s clit and sucks, and yes — that’s it. That’s exactly it. Deborah rocks against her for just a moment longer, and then she’s coming undone. She fists her hand into Ava’s hair and rides her face through the aftershocks, moaning and wailing so loud, she’s sure housekeeping will hear. Fuck it. She’ll come up with an excuse later. Right now, she’s enjoying herself, and that comes first. 

Deborah sinks back on her hips as she catches her breath, and decides to give Ava a chance to do the same. She climbs off and takes in the sight of her — panties askew across her eyes and nose, face pink and glistening with the biggest fucking grin Deborah’s seen on her in days. 

“Don’t get cocky,” Deborah says. “That wasn’t your best work.” It was up there for sure, but Deborah keeps that part to herself. 

“If you wanna come back for seconds, I can change your mind,” Ava grins. Deborah rolls her eyes. 

“Weren’t you just saying if I didn’t touch you, you’d die?” 

“I mean, technically you did touch me,” Ava says, squirming as she recalls it. “My nipples are hella erect.” 

“Jesus, Ava. Don’t say ‘hella erect’ — or ‘dude’ — during sex. It ruins the mood.”

“Ah, boner killer,” Ava nods. “Got it.” 

“Don’t say ‘boner killer’ either.” Deborah says, unimpressed. 

“Hey, you can shut me up any time. You clearly know how.” It’s a kind offer, but Deborah’s had enough oral sex for the night. One more round, and she’ll be too exhausted to go up on stage in forty-five minutes, but that’s not the only way to shut Ava up. She’s full of good ideas tonight. 

“You’re right, I do.” Deborah says, taking the panties off Ava’s face. She wads them up in her hand. “Open.” 

Ava’s cheeks flush as she puts two and two together. “Oh, shit. You’re serious?”

“If you are.”

Ava nods. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Okay, enough. I don’t want you thinking of your little girlfriend when we do this —” Deborah says as she pushes the wad of used panties into Ava’s mouth. “I want you thinking of me. Got it?” Ava’s brow knits together as she lets out an overwhelmed moan. She nods, blissfully. “Good girl.” 

Deborah slips her hand between Ava’s legs. Jesus Christ, she wasn’t kidding. She really is wet. Deborah smears the slick across her fingers and quickly gets to work. She keeps it external. Her nails are too much of a hazard for anything more involved, and after Ava’s overstimulating romp about the golf course that day, she’s sure she could use a break. 

She begins circling Ava’s clit with soft, building pressure, but Ava’s already on the edge. She jerks and spasms underneath her. It’s exhilarating to watch. Deborah continues circling as Ava whines and slobbers around the makeshift gag, and then she’s coming, hard and fast and — oh! A big streak of something squirts from between Ava’s legs and onto the bedroom floor. Deborah pulls back, startled. 

“Jesus. That’s a first.” Deborah says, peering over the edge of the bed. She reaches up and pulls the panties from Ava’s mouth, giving her a second to gasp for air before popping the question. “Did you just pee?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Ava says, flustered. Her face is bright red, and not just from being ridden by Deborah minutes before. “I don’t have a stance on if squirt is pee or not.”

“I’ll get a towel,” Deborah sighs. 

“It’s involuntary! I swear!” Ava strains to sit up, but makes little progress thanks to the restraints. “Jesus, you guys are gonna break my pelvic floor.”

“Don’t worry, honey. You’ve got plenty of years before you have to worry about that.” Deborah says as she steps into the bathroom. She grabs a hand towel and quickly mops up the evidence — good as new — but when she stands up, she sees Ava’s eyes are wet and shiny with tears. Fuck. 

“Oh, baby. What’s wrong?” Deborah fumbles to untie Ava’s right hand — and then the left — from the bedpost. 

“Sorry,” Ava laughs, wiping her face with the back of her hand. She rubs at her wrists shyly. “Just embarrassed.” 

“It’s not that embarrassing. Certainly nothing to cry about,” Deborah says. Ava lets out another shaky sob-laugh and rests her head against Deborah’s shoulder. Deborah wraps an arm around her and pulls her close. 

“Sorry. Just a lot of emotions today.” Ava sighs.

“Are you sure you’re feeling up for dinner?” Deborah asks, rubbing her hand up and down Ava’s back. “You don’t need to stay in and sit on a bag of frozen peas or something?”

“No, I’m fine,” Ava says. “I wanna be there to support you. Maybe I’ll dip after you finish, though.” 

“You do what you need to do, okay, honey?” Deborah says. “Like you said, I already have this in the bag. I need my writer in good shape for when we celebrate.” 

Ava hums and nuzzles into Deborah’s neck, face still wet with tears, but she’s not crying anymore. “Mm. Okay. That sounds nice.” 

“Glad we’re in agreement. Now come on. Let’s get ready.” Deborah helps Ava up to her feet. “I’m ready to see you in that blue top.” 

Ava blushes as she wipes her face again. “Oh, don’t worry, D. You will.”