Discovery
Y.OF. Chapter One: Discovery
Thursdays were Mahari’s favorite days. It wasn’t the fact that it was her last day of class for the week, nor did she care that it was payday. No, today was her anesthesiology and pain medicine class. And while the class was by far one of the hardest she’d taken in her three years at Oakland University, it was absolutely the most pleasurable.
Mahari grins at herself in the mirror, her green contacts popping against the brown of her skin, as she applies her favorite blush to her cheeks. The hours she’s spent watching Jackie Aina immaculately beat her face was paying off. Her makeup had never looked this good. Her mocha complexion looked perfectly even, the gold highlight on the bridge of her round nose and cupid’s bow of her full lips the perfect accents to her otherwise “bare” face.
She looked good, she thought as she turned to inspect her winged liner and falsies. Good enough to catch the eye of a certain someone she hoped.
The rose gold plated Apple Watch on her wrist, dinged gently, telling her that she had approximately twenty minutes to leave her apartment or she forfeited her spot at the front of the class.
“Shit,” she mutters, tossing her used brushes into her makeup bag to deal with later.
The Codename: Kids Next Door theme song stops her briefly in her cleaning, her phone nearly vibrating off her makeup table. Rolling her eyes playfully, Mahari snatches the phone up, swiping to answer the incoming video call.
“Yes, Five?” she answers with a dry voice, wiping down her makeup area.
“Uh uh,” Sanaa calls out in disgust as she glides her Apple Pencil along her iPad. “That is no way to greet your lifelong best friend, Numba Three.”
So sensitive.
Mahari bats her eyes comically, pouring a sickening amount of sweetness in her voice as she sits the phone down to turn towards her mirror.
“Hey dahling,” she drawls with emphasis. “What can I do for you this fine summa day?”
“You’re so full of shit,” Sanaa giggles.
“And that’s why you love me, bestie boo! What’s up? Shouldn’t you be in class?”
“I could ask you the saaame thang,” her best friend said, turning towards the camera. She leans back dramatically with a hand placed over her heart, eyes wide as saucers.“Well zaaaamn! Whooo the fuck is yooouuuuu?”
Mahari ignores her, finishing her look with a swipe of her lip gloss.
“You’re annoying as shit!” Mahari exclaims, tossing the lipgloss into her bag along with her AirPods case and pens.
“And you look good as shit. I see you out here with the Fenty Glossbomb. Skin all glowing and whatnot.”
“Shuuut uuuppp! It’s not even like that, Five.”
“Uh, yeah it is. It’s most definitely like that. You usually go to class in whatever anime t-shirt you woke up in. And that’s on a good day. Now you over here fluffing ya hair and doing makeup.” Sanaa leans close enough to the camera that Mahari was sure she was about to ask if she got games on her phone. All eyeballs and nose. “Who the hell taught you how to put on lashes?”
“Youtube University,” Mahari proudly responds with a fake ghetto girl accent, complete with a lip smack and a Stallion-esque ‘ah’.
“Okay, one: you are not Meg, put ya tongue back in ya face. And for two, it’s Thursday. Tell Mistah Stevens I said ‘hiii.’”
”Goodbye, Naa.”
Sanaa laughed brightly.
“Bye, Three. Smooches!”
Mahari spends a few more minutes separating her curls until her big orange and chocolate afro sat in place the way she liked. After triple-checking to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything, Mahari grabs her Louis Vuitton Neverfull, stuffs her feet into her platform Vans, and begins her trek to the biology building. If there’s a little more sway to her hips, well, that was on her.
Mahari had just made it outside when she spotted a familiar face. David, an attractive yet slightly annoying fellow classmate stood to wait for her near the fountain in the middle of campus. David was nice enough, but Mahari couldn’t allow herself to see him as anything more than just a classmate. Still, he was persistent.
“Good afternoon, Hari,” David said cheerily when she got close enough, his smile as bright as the sun beating down on the lawn before them.
“Hey, D,” Hari smiles back. She took a few moments to drink him in. Tall, athletic build, deep chocolate skin, and a set of cinnamon-colored eyes that seemed to glow whenever she looked into them. Mahari is well aware that there were women who were just waiting to pounce on David, she, however, wasn’t one of them. While attractive, David also has narcissistic traits. He carries himself like a god amongst humans, and while there’s nothing wrong with being confident, there’s only so much one can take of such an attitude.
“Did you watch Shippuden last night? That is your favorite anime, right?”
“I like it, but it’s not my favorite. I’m a Machiko and Hatchin girl.”
David rubbed the back of his head nervously. The truth is, he didn’t care for anime at all and hearing her talk about it sounded as though she were speaking another language. He was only pretending to be interested for a chance to go out with her, a fact Mahari became hip to early on in their relationship.
“You look really pretty today,” he deflects as a means of changing the subject.
“Thank you,” she grins as she glances down at her choice of attire for the day. A pair of high waisted jeans with completely destroyed knees and a crop top graphic tee. Her big bamboo earrings that jingle lightly in her ears with every step matched the layers of bracelets on her wrist. It was understated in the way that looks like you didn’t actually try but still bold enough to catch some attention.
Even the unwanted kind.
The pair made small talk as they walked across the campus to class.
“Soooo,” he starts when they make it inside the cool building. “You give that invitation any thought?”
Mahari only just manages not to roll her eyes. The Alpha Block Party. Or, as the school was deeming it, Thee Party of Thee Semester. David has been poking her gently about going since they’d met on the first day of class. Promising that she’d get in for free and personally make sure her cup was never empty. From the whispers she’s heard around campus, it seems like anybody who is anybody was going to the event. But Mahari was a nobody. And that was fine with her.
“Yeah, I don’t think I’m going, D,” she mumbles, going over to find her usual seat in the front and dead center of the lecture hall. Pulling out her favorite notebook and fluffy purple pen.
“C’moooon, Hari.” David persists, sounding entirely like a whining four-year-old. “You don’t never do anything fun.”
Hari looks at him like he had worms coming from his nose. How dare he say she doesn’t do anything fun?
“You don’t know my life, David,” Mahari quietly fumes at his audacity, before she turns away with her nose raised slightly higher. “Have fun at your lil party, but I respectfully decline.”
David throws his hands up in defeat, still choosing to occupy the vacant seat beside her. But to Mahari, he was as good as invisible. She watched the clock with eager eyes, impatiently awaiting the arrival of her favorite fixture on the entire OU campus. The room begins to quickly fill as the seconds trickle by. Mahari waves at a few familiar faces and mentally goes over her lecture notes as if she didn’t have them memorized. Seconds quickly turned into an alarming amount of minutes and when neither the professor nor graduate assistant walked in, a sign-in sheet started to circulate around the hall.
“No no,” Mahari whispered to herself. This couldn’t be happening. She had been waiting for this since the last time she’d had this class on Tuesday. There was no fucking way she wasn’t going to scratch this itch.
“Sorry about my lateness,” came the familiar, rich baritone.
Mahari’s heart stops when he steps foot into the classroom. His attire today is casual. A lightweight oatmeal-colored Henley pulls across his chest and shoulders enticingly, his sleeves bunched up around his elbows, and layered over his olive cargo pants. The fossil colored Nike x Stussy Air Zooms on his feet pulling the ensemble together.
His signature wide-legged gait captures the attention of every girl in class. Hari grips the edge of the folding tablet in front of her, bottom lip caught tightly between her teeth, barely catching herself just as the drool was about to slide down her chin.
This man was a god.
“Good morning, class. Dr. Watson is out sick, so I’ll be giving the lecture today,” Erik announces as he sits his heavy legal pad on the table to adjust the gold rims on his face. His freshly retwisted locs dangle over his left eye and she can just see the top of his Cuban link kissing his neck before it disappears under his shirt.
“Thank god for small miracles,” Mariah calls out from the back, making the entire class laugh. “Don’t get me wrong, the old man is knowledgeable but boring as all hell. And you easy on the eyes, so.”
A chorus of “mm-hmms” rang out around them turning Erik’s smile slightly wolfish.
Mahari’s body clenches tightly at the sight of those deep dimples he rarely showed. She coughs lightly to cover her reaction. Crossing her legs like a tight pretzel, jostling her desk and making her notebook fall to the ground.
“Crap!”
“Aight, settle down,” Erik calls out, rounding the large desk to stand before Mahari. The gentle notes of his cologne stretched out towards her as he bent down, picking up the notebook.
The urge to snatch the it back from him bubbles up inside of her as she watches him study the cover curiously for a few moments. Although anime nine times out of ten wasn’t meant for children, it could still be perceived as childish to watch cartoons at her age if you didn’t know what it was. And Erik didn’t look like the type to watch anime. At all.
“Michiko Malandro,” he says slowly, looking back into her now shocked eyes. “Nice choice.”
Mahari’s throat is dry and the “thank you” she manages to squeak out is weak, but Erik only nods once more before going back over to the desk.
This attractive nigga was a low key weeb? Just light her panties on fire now, please.
“We ain’t doing nothing different,” he announces and flips a few pages on his notepad. “Open your text to chapter six. I hope y’all did the reading.”
Quickly and with slightly shaking hands, Mahari pulls the PDF up on her iPad. The chapter Principles of Fluid Management and Stewardship in Septic Shock opening immediately as it was bookmarked.
“In patients with septic shock,” Erik began, “the administration of fluids during initial hemodynamic resuscitation remains a major therapeutic challenge. We are faced with many open questions regarding the type, dose, and timing of intravenous fluid administration.”
Mahari blinks rapidly at him. Although paraphrased, Erik was actively reciting the chapter before them completely from memory. His eyes floating around the class, honing in on a few students as he continued.
“There are only four major indications for intravenous fluid administration. Aside from resuscitation, intravenous fluids have many other uses including maintenance and replacement of total body water and electrolytes, as carriers for medications and for parenteral nutrition. In this paradigm-shifting review, we discuss different fluid management strategies including early adequate goal-directed fluid management, late conservative fluid management, and late goal-directed fluid removal.”
Gobsmacked and only just slightly turned on, Mahari is ashamed to admit she zones out. Her eyes follow as he paces the stage in front of them, taking in minute details. The way he paused to lick his lips, his gesticulations, and the almost lazy way he speaks on this immensely dense and difficult topic. As if he was giving instructions on how to build a paper airplane. She almost fanned herself. It no longer felt like she was sitting in a lecture hall but rather watching the most soothing ASMR videos.
He should do YouTube, she thought with a dreamy sigh. He’d have millions of followers.
“Ms. Owens.”
Wait…that was her name.
Savanna, another classmate, nudges her gently, breaking her out of her stupor. And David leans forward into her view.
“You good?” he mouths.
“Uhh,” she stutters out before her gaze sweeps back over to Erik. He’s looking at her expectantly but there’s a hint of a smile dancing in his eyes.
“Yes?” she asks after a deep swallow.
“I said there are four phases that should be considered when treating patients with septic shock,” he said slowly, patiently. “Can you name them for the class?”
“Resuscitation, optimization, stabilization, and evacuation,” she answers swiftly and without much thought. Thank goodness she read the text.
“Correct,” Erik smiles fully at her, the gold caps of his bottom canines shining brightly. “And those phases bring their own questions.” He stepped forward, his gaze fully locked on her as he spoke. “’When to start intravenous fluids?’, ‘When to stop intravenous fluids?’, ‘When to start de-resuscitation or active fluid removal?’ and finally ‘When to stop de-resuscitation?’"
Mahari could feel her heart beating through every extremity in her body. The steadiest in a place it really shouldn’t have been considering the audience she could garner. Suddenly she was hot, like wearing a leather jacket in the summertime hot. She wishes for a second he wasn’t looking at her so intently.
As if hearing her thoughts, Erik turns back to address the class.
“In analogy to the way we handle antibiotics in critically ill patients, it is time for fluid stewardship.”
“Hey Mr. Stevens,” Hari calls out to him once the lecture is over. She had tucked into her iPad to follow the reading after the nearly embarrassing incident. Taking copious notes and highlighting patches of text to revisit later. But she had a question or three for the Graduate Assistant.
“Got a second?”
He flashes her a closed mouth smirk before beckoning her over to the desk with his hand.
“For my favorite student? Always.” Mahari’s easily manipulated heart gives a few heavy beats. “What can I do for you, Ms. Owens?”
Mahari bit her lip and collected her things, walking gingerly over to the desk and, by extension, the object of her recent nocturnal emission.
“Uhm,” she says, tucking her chin into her chest a little. “About the assignment for next Tuesday.”
Erik pulls a disbelieving face.
“With all due respect, Ms. Owens, I’m sure you of all people understand the material covered,” he spoke slowly. “I think your quick answer after you were caught zoning out today is a testament to that.” Erik cocked his head to the side. “Don’t you think?”
Heat rose to her cheeks at the realization that she wasn’t as stealth with her lusty gaze as she thought. But she pressed on.
“I mean yeah, but I still need some extra assistance,” she pressed. “I work the midnight shift tonight at the library. Maybe we can meet up and discuss it then?” Hari’s eyebrows raised with hope. She’d never shot her shot with anyone before and she was hoping for net.
To his credit, Erik at least looked as if he was considering the idea.
“I would,” he said with a lick of his heavy bottom lip, “ buuut I have a prior engagement.”
Fuck! Airball.
Though internally defeated, Hari kept her face neutral.
“That’s fine, I’ll try to figure something out.”
“You could always email me your questions. I’ll get to them either tonight or tomorrow. Aight?”
She beamed a megawatt smile at him. Even though she didn’t honestly have any questions, she could always think some up. Anything to make conversation with this fine ass nigga. And who knows, maybe she could ask for his number down the line. If she could be so bold.
“Aight,” she said back. “I’ll email you.”
“Cool.”
Mahari stood there for a few more seconds. Shifting foot to foot trying to think of something, anything else to say before her Apple Watch pinged again, signifying she needed to head to her next lecture.
“Well, thanks,” she said, hiking her bag higher on her shoulder and turning towards the door. “See you, Tuesday, Mr. Stevens.”
“Yeah, have a good weekend, Mahari.”
She bit her lip so she wouldn’t squeal at hearing him say her name.
“You too, Erik.”
As Mahari walks away, Erik can’t help but notice the extra sway in her hips as she exits the classroom. He could feel her eyes on him the entire lecture, so he took advantage, flashing her a smile here and there just to see her flush. He thought she was cute, and a bit of a loner, much like the character on her beloved notebook. Though she didn’t outwardly act like it, he could tell there was some freak in that geek.
“She gone be a problem,” he mutters to himself, gathering his things to prepare for the next lecture. Fucking one of his students wasn’t something that he was going to entertain, even if she’s only a few years younger.
The notification tone pulls his attention to his phone, where he discovers ten new subscriptions to his OnlyFans. The account was something that he kept private, not wanting to jeopardize the career he was working so hard on building. He came from a fairly well off family, so it wasn’t like he needed the money. In actuality, he had a voyeurism kink, and the thought of someone watching while he pounds some poor girl’s cervix gets him harder than Chinese arithmetic.
The account was actually the reason he was late. The upload of his daily video had taken longer than expected. Usually, he would put it off and wait until class was over. But the longer he stared at the screengrab, and image of Amber’s face right after he’d finished on it - his thick nut and her spit slowly gliding down her chin and neck and her blissed-out face - the more he knew he had to share it with the world. Class be damned.
As he scrolls through the new thirsties, he secretly hopes one of them is Mahari, but unfortunately, he’s met with another batch of anonymous randoms.
“I knew you was a freak!” someone exclaims behind him, startling him slightly.
He turns slightly to find Mariah basically over his shoulder.
“Ms. Sutton,” he addresses the snoop, locking his phone. “I thought you’d left already.”
“No, I hung back after Mahari to ask a question about the lecture, but then I caught a glimpse of your OnlyFans.” she licked her lips. “I knew you was nasty, but I didn’t know it was like that.”
“Girl mind yo business,” he responds coolly, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “You want me to answer ya question or you tryna be my next co-star?” He sees her face flush and adds a wink for extra emphasis.
“You know what, I’m late for class. I’ll just email Dr. Watson, but thank you,” she calls over her shoulder as she briskly exits the classroom.
“Mmhm…I ain’t the one to play with, lil girl,”
His phone dings once again and he fishes it out. A grin spreading wide on his lips.
Yea, where u tryna meet up?
It looks like he didn’t have to lie to lil Ms. Owens after all. But maybe he could pop in and see her.
The meatball sub in Mahari’s hand tastes damn near like steak. And she stuffs it into her face like it is one. Sauce covering the side of her cheek as she juggles eating, walking, and telling Sanaa just how much she had bombed in asking Erik out.
“He turned me down,” she relays around a mouthful of beef and cheese.
“Okay, I know how dramatic yo ass is,” Sanaa says from her side of the phone. “When you say ‘turned you down’ what exactly do you mean?”
Mahari would have rolled her eyes but it wasn’t worth bumping into someone. Or potentially losing her dinner.
“Meaning I shot my shot and he turned me down. Can you please keep up with the program.”
Sanaa sucks her teeth, long and loud.
“Look here you virgin ass hoe!” she yells directly into her phone’s microphone.
“Bitch! Must you be so damn loud?” Hari’s immensely glad she has her Airpods in. No one needed to know her sexual status.
“Yes! Need I remind you that even Jordan didn’t make 100% of his shots and that nigga is a billionaire and arguably one of the greatest players to ever do it? Try again, boo.”
“Now you know I don’t know sports like that,” Mahari says just to annoy her best friend.
“Bitch!”
“Okay okay,” she laughs before sighing. “You have a point, but you only go after someone like him once. The second time might be even more embarrassing,” she shudders.
Sanaa sighs deeply.
“Remember Mark from 9th grade?” she asks. “And what happened when I first tried to approach him?”
Thinking back, Mahari giggles at the memory.
“Yeah, you tripped on air and busted your face on the locker next to his,” she snickers. Ain’t no way she was gone forget that.
“Right!” Sanaa joins her in laughing. “He was the finest, richest nigga in high school and I literally bled trying to talk to him.”
“Yes,” Hari cringes. “And I walked you to the nurse’s office.”
“Yup, and the nigga was my boyfriend literally two months later. Because I what?” her friend prompts.
“You stalked him around the school until he basically couldn’t avoid you anymore.”
“No,” Sanaa corrects. “I tried again.”
“Yes, by stalking him ar-”
“The point is,” Sanaa interrupts, “I shot a few more airballs before I got all net. What you did was barely dribbling. Try again.”
“I am not stalking this nigga.”
“I sweatergod, Three. I’ma box you across the forehead.”
“Aight, chill,” Mahari says as she tosses away her wrapper and pulls the heavy double door of the library open. “I have a plan anyway. I’m not giving up.”
“Yeah?” her friend asks, intrigued. “Lil Hari got a plan to seduce her sensei?”
“Maybe,” Hari hedges as she reaches the customer service desk. She waves at Oaklyn to let her know she’s arrived. “But I’ll have to tell you later. I just got to work.”
“Uggghhhh,” Sanaa groans comically. “Fine. I need to finish this piece anyway. Call you tomorrow.”
“Mmhmm. Don’t be up all night, girl. You got class in the morning.”
“Yes, momma. I know. Love you.”
“Love you too,” she replies before hanging up to walk behind the desk.
“I absolutely love when you relieve me. You the only one who comes on time,” Oaklyn tells her with a smile.
“I gotchu. I know how much it sucks waiting for relief after a long ass shift.”
“Yess,” her coworker says as she gathers her things. “It’s gone be a slow night. Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
Mahari situates her space to her liking and goes to make some coffee. The work-study program was a godsend but the hours sometimes aren’t the. At least she could use the time to do her homework.
“C’mon three am,” she says to the nearly empty library. The five hours couldn’t slip by fast enough.
Mahari sat curled up behind the service desk of the library, her nose deep in a copy of Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood she was rereading for the fifth time. She enjoyed working the midnight shift, the peace and quiet of the library bringing calm to her typically racing mind.
She just reaches one of her favorite parts, where Edward see Alfonse standing in front of his truth’s door, when a hand comes down on the page, pushing the book to the table gently.
“What the fu-”
“Ooh, someone has a potty mouth,” Erik smirks, those gold slugs commanding Hari’s undivided attention.
She stares at him for a moment, mouth agape, looking every bit like a goldfish out of water before she pulls the book out from under him with a huff.
“Shut up, liar,” she finally squeals once her brain signals begin functioning again. And take in the man before her. He looks the most relaxed she’s ever seen him. Donning a pair of grey basketball shorts, and his black OU Grizzlies crewneck, he could easily be mistaken for an undergrad student and not the hot as all fuck GA. Even though…he was still hot as all fuck.
The man leans against the counter in front of her, bending slightly until they were eye to eye. Mahari stands her ground though, the scowl never slipping off her face. Even when the light on her desk catches on the diamonds in his ears, nearly blinding her.
“And feisty. Who knew meek lil Khalessi had it in her,” he snickers.
“Whatever,” she quips as she glances at the time. 2:02 am. Why was he even here? “First of all, it’s Khamisi. Second of all, didn’t you say you had a prior engagement?”
“I do.”
As if on cue, a cocoa goddess with hips as wide as this nigga’s lips enters the library. Her long goddess braids were pulled into a loose ponytail while the black bodycon dress she wore barely covered her curves. Hari could’ve sworn she saw the apples of her ass cheeks when she passed the desk on her journey to the elevator.
“Wassup, C?” Erik says, eyes roving over her body slowly.
Jealousy spikes in Mahari’s gut but she can’t blame Erik for his reaction. She isn’t gay, not in the slightest but she could appreciate a woman’s physique. And this girl has an amazing one.
“Wassup E?” She calls back, a knowing smirk on her face. “You ready?”
Erik nods once before turning back to Mahari, flashing her a near panty wetting smile.
“Sorry to end this meeting so soon, but my prior engagement is here. Have a good night, Mahari Khalessi.”
“Khamisi!” she fires back making him laugh and wave without looking.
All Hari can do is watch him walk over to the bank of elevators. Neither one had anything that signified they were going to study. Erik only held a small black bag in his hand and there was no way there were any school materials in it.
It’s long after the elevator doors close, but she finds herself still looking at the area in bewilderment. Puzzled at why Erik was in the Library at this hour and who the girl could be. She had never seen her on campus. She would remember someone like that. So maybe a student from a nearby school? Merrit? It wouldn’t be the first time that a student from the community college had come to use their facilities.
Ultimately though, Mahari shrugs it off and begins to pack her things. Her shift was almost over.
With an exaggerated yawn, Hari drops her book into her bag and stands up to stretch her tired legs and arms. Her back pops loudly in a few places from being hunched over the desk for too long.
“Ugh.”
“Damn, someone is sleepy,” Aaron calls out as he comes around the desk. He was ten minutes early. Thank god.
“Yesss. I love these shifts but I had a full day of classes. It’s catching up to me.”
“I know, which is why I’m relieving you early. My brother is outside, he’ll walk you to your dorm.”
“I could kiss you right now,” she laughs, pulling him in for a hug instead. Aaron’s older brother, Andre, was captain of the Student Patrol on campus and always makes it a point to wait for her anytime their schedules overlap. While there aren’t many cases of assault on campus, you could never be too cautious.
“And I would absolutely take you up on that offer if I was single,” he chuckles. “Get out of here. Make it home safe.”
With a final smile, Hari starts her trek to her dorm. As she walks towards the entrance, her mind drifts back to Erik and the thicc mama he affectionately referred to as ‘C’. She realizes that the pair never came back downstairs and temptation almost pulls her back inside.
“You ready to go, Hari?” Andre calls, holding the door for her to exit. She nods, choosing sleep over nosiness. Whatever Erik and C had going on was none of her business.
Mahari’s fantabulous self-care day was in full swing. All of her homework was completed so she decides to use the day to give herself a mani/pedi, deep dive into her skincare routine, and wash her hair. Which leaves her on the couch, her hair in a towel turban, homemade kiwi mask on her face, in her favorite oversized Sailor Moon sweatshirt scrolling through Twitter.
In reality, she should be sending out the list of questions she’d composed over breakfast out to a certain someone, but she was enjoying herself and her time without her mind clouding over with thoughts of him.
It was bad enough that she’d dreamt of him. Again.
So, Mahari dedicates a few moments to the barely used app. She scrolls through the trending topics and other humdrum posts, laughing at black twitter, and navigating the not so savory pictures on her feed before a few comments caught her eye.
“Yoooo, niggas is wylin’!”
“Is that the chair from the 3rd-floor study room at OU?”
“That’s my kind of studying! (insert tongue out emoji)”
Curiosity finally gets the best of Hari, prompting her to click on the video attached to the tweet that had since earned 1.2K retweets and over 5K replies. She tries to convince herself that the only reason she was even entertaining this nonsense was due to the location potentially being her place of work. But as the video loads and she takes in the sight and sounds before her, she knows that is complete horse shit.
Mahari’s mouth drops as she watches the illicit scene play out. The pair are up against the wall. From the way the camera is angled, the viewer can't see anything higher than the couples' lips. But Mahari ain't even looking at all that. Her eyes are glued to the sight of the man's long, condom covered dick stroking the woman with skill and precision. From the state of her pussy, swollen, and damn near drooling, she knows that this has to be in the middle of the video. She can't look away as the mystery man continues to plunge himself deeper into the woman’s forbidden fruit, his deep, lust-filled voice sent a knowing chill down Hari’s spine.
“You like that, don’t you Pretty Girl?”
“Yes, Daddy,” the woman struggles out.
Mahari isn’t completely a virgin. She’s seen plenty of porn before. On the internet and most recently, in her wild imagination. But the image before her is different for some reason. She watches the preview a handful of times, nearly having the actions and voices committed to memory before it dawns on her just why this was different. It was the man’s voice. She could swear she knew it from somewhere.
That smooth baritone fills her up like caramel, sticking to every nook and cranny of her mind. And reminds her of…
Pain medicine?
Mahari’s eyes widen as she pulls the phone so close to her face that the movement is blurred. That chair in the corner, the same color blue as the chairs in the private rooms of the library that is only accessible from the elevators she sits right in front of.
The elevator “Ms. C’s” hips swayed towards the night before.
So that meant….
No.
It couldn’t be.
“Erik?”