by Ivy Smoak
"Hello, gorgeous,” said the realtor, shutting his Cosmo magazine and setting it aside. “Pink Ocelot, at your service.” He bowed and kissed my hand. Usually I would have been grossed out by such a gesture, but he was so well groomed that I wasn’t even sure his lips had any germs on them. Seriously. I’d never seen a man so impeccably groomed. His skin was flawless, his fuchsia dress shirt had clearly been pressed, and his hair was…huge.
I probably should have said hi, but instead I just stared at him. I had so many questions. How much gel did it take for him to pull off that hairstyle? And what the hell kind of name is Pink Ocelot?
“We can start the tour in a minute,” he said. “But I have to ask…who did your hair? It’s divine.” Ocelot ran his hands through the ends of my black wig. “Paul Mitchell called, he needs his model back.”
Am I the model? Or does my wig have a model number or something? Shit! Is it that obvious that it's a wig?
"Ocelot, please!" said Frankie. "Try not to touch my clients."
"How can I keep my hands off perfection?" He growled like a tiger. Or did Ocelots growl? Either way, he growled.
"I'm sure you'll find a way. How about you show us around?"
"What would you like to see first?"
I didn't answer. I just started wandering around trying to imagine how much this all must cost.
The ceilings were all at least ten feet high, the whole living space was open, and every surface was sparkling white. It looked like the Property Brothers had just been there and worked their magic. Every room had unique details that brought the whole place to life. I wasn't sure if my favorite part was the black and white zigzag accent wall in the master bedroom or the flamboyant marble statue of Dionysus in the dining room.
Then we got to the bathroom.
It was modern and sleek, with lots of glass. There was even a fireplace in the corner for no apparent reason other than to be extra. But two things caught me off guard. First, there was a bidet - the world’s most disgusting invention. And second, the shower wasn’t nearly as big as I would have wanted for such a sick bathroom.
"So what do you think?" asked Ocelot. "Fabulous, right?"
"Yes. But why is the shower so small?”
“I wouldn’t call it small. More like slightly above average. Most importantly, though, this shower knows how to hit you in all the right spots at just the right time. Not just any old shower can you do that, you know.”
Is that what all those buttons are for? “Hmmm…I don’t know. It really seems small to me.”
He looked insulted for a moment, but then he smoothed his shirt and regained his composure. “My dear girl, don’t get me wrong. Big showers are amazing. In fact, I’ve looked at real estate all over the world in search of the biggest shower. But big showers are best as a sometimes thing. A special treat, if you will.”
What the hell is he talking about? “I have to disagree. I want the biggest shower ever, right in my house. It’s actually at the very top of my must-have list. Oh! How about a double shower head? I’ve always…”
Ocelot put his finger to my lips. “Shush. Say no more, my dear. I could never fault a girl for wanting a bigger shower. And I’ve always thought that double showerheads just make sense.”
“Is the small shower a deal-breaker?” asked Frankie.
“Slightly above average,” corrected Ocelot.
“Yeah, I think so.” And this place must cost a bajillion dollars that I don’t have. It was better to bow out gracefully because of the shower than to embarrass myself by letting them find out I was broke.
“Alright then,” said Frankie. “Onto the next place.” She looped her arm through mine and guided me out while Ocelot bowed deeply.
“That guy was so weird,” I said when we were back in the hall. “But I kind of loved it. I’ve always thought it would be so fun to have a gay best friend.”
“Ocelot isn’t gay,” said Frankie.
“Say what now? Was he not just reading Cosmo when we walked in? And did you see that freshly pressed shirt?”
“I actually think it’s hot how well he takes care of himself. If more men were like Ocelot, the world would be a better place.”
I couldn’t argue with that. Even if he was gay - which I was quite certain he was - he still would have been an infinitely better husband than Joe.
“You know,” said Frankie as we waited for the elevator. “For a second I thought you had found your dream home. That you loved it. Or were in love with it, as Ocelot likes to say.” She laughed to herself.
I felt like I was missing the joke. “Nope. I need that giant double shower. Non-negotiable.”
“Any other notes about Ocelot’s place?”
“Well…I always thought I wanted white walls. But now I’m not so sure. It was elegant, yes, but also a little clinical. How about a little color?”
“Black walls?”
“Whoa, no. Aren’t black walls supposed to make everything look smaller?”
Frankie looked at me like I was crazy. “Not in my experience. But I understand. Black walls can be an acquired taste.”
“How about like…light walls with lots of splashes of color?”
“Let’s see what’s available.” Frankie scrolled through her phone and then let out an excited squeal. “On a scale of one to ten, how excited are you to meet your future home?”
“Ten?”
“Good answer. Because I just found exactly what you’re looking for. You, Raven, are in for a real treat.”
The next place was a few floors down. I had to blink when I walked it. My brain knew I was in an NYC skyscraper, but my senses told me I was in a Spanish villa. The terra cotta floors, the rustic wood, the colorful accent tiles… It was incredible. It even smelled like freshly baked churros. I would know, because I spent a semester in Barcelona. Just kidding. I never did that. But my 10th-grade Spanish teacher brought us churros one time, so that was basically the same thing. Either way, the smell was intoxicating.
“What do you think?” asked Frankie.
“I think I’m in heaven. I’ve always wanted to go to Spain.”
“So this is the one?” She sounded so excited.
“It just might be. How tall are these ceilings?!” They were so high that they made Ocelot’s place seem cramped in comparison.
“At least 12 feet. And look at how perfectly smooth these floors are.”
I looked down. The tile floors were nice and all. But that didn’t really feel like a big selling point. And why does she keep talking about smooth floors? I really needed to study my real estate lingo. “Where’s the kitchen? Actually, scratch that. I wanna see the master bath.”
“Good choice. I think you’re going to be very impressed.”
I followed her up the spiral staircase. If the amazing detail on the wrought iron railing was any indication, then Frankie was absolutely correct. I really hope they take my Monopoly money.
The bathroom wasn’t exactly what I’d imagined. I’d always pictured something very modern. But this was even better.
“O.M.G. This shower is huge! No, that’s an understatement. It’s ginormous.”
“Double nozzles, just like you wanted. So you can get it from both sides at once.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me.
Naughty Frankie! Speaking of naughty…for an evening facilitated by a sex club, things had been extremely tame. Were they trying to get me comfortable with a tame first date so that I’d walk straight into a gangbang on my next date? If so, then it was totally working. Well played, Society. Well played.
“Have you ever tried a double shower before?” asked Frankie. “Or is it just a lifelong fantasy of yours?”
“Lifelong fantasy.” I ran my hand along the columns on each side of the shower. God, this is amazing. “Actually, that’s not accurate. I don’t think I even realized it was a thing until high school. But ever since I realized it was an option, I’ve been obsessed.”
“Wanna give it a try?” She gestured to the sh
ower handle.
“Sure.” I reached in and turned on both nozzles. They were a little further away from each other than I'd expected. I'd been hoping to be able to stand in the middle and get sprayed on my front and back at the same time, but this seemed like more of a setup for a couple showering together. It would have been perfect for Joe and me. Whenever we’d showered together, he’d always been a jerk and hogged all the water while I stood in the back freezing my naked ass off hoping that a sprinkle or two of hot water would reach me.
"Impressive, huh?" asked Frankie.
"Yeah, it's... Holy penises!" Where did these two naked men come from?!
Chapter 16 - Double, Double, Shower Trouble
Tuesday
I stared in shock at the naked men. Their tattoo-covered, completely hairless torsos were like big sexy arrows pointing downward directly to their humungous erections. Chastity hadn't been kidding about stacked soda cans.
One of them raised a seductive eyebrow. “Like what you see?”
"What?” What the hell is happening?! “Why are you naked?! And who the hell are you?!” My eyes gravitated down to his penis again and then snapped back to his face.
“I’m Angel,” said the shorter one.
“And I’m Diablo,” said the other. “And we’re naked because you said you wanted to try us out.” He took a step towards me as he stroked his thick cock.
“I wanted to try the shower!” So much for this being a tame evening.
“Don’t worry,” said Angel, pushing his longish hair out of his eye. “I promise we’ll be gentle.”
“At first,” added Diablo.
Holy shit. Am I about to get raped? I glanced down again. Hot damn. How would that huge monster feel inside of me? What the actual fuck am I thinking? They were just. So. Big. Stop staring at their huge penises!
Diablo took another step toward me.
Nope. Not happening. That thing would never fit in me. Before the two men could get any closer, I screamed “RAPE!” and ran out of the bathroom. Oh God, were they following me? Was this how I died? I didn’t stop running until I was safe in the elevator.
“Where to?” asked the liftman.
Holy shit. I ignored him and frantically jammed the LOBBY button. The doors were taking forever to close. Come on. Come on! I slammed my fist against the LOBBY button again. Was this how Dr. Lyons had felt when I sexually assaulted him? Maybe this was karma. All rapists eventually got raped themselves.
“Can’t you make the doors close?!” I practically shouted at him.
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
“No!” I was going to elaborate when the doors finally started to slide shut. My overactive imagination pictured a hand reaching between them at the last second. Or what if it was something else? What if Diablo stuck his gigantic penis between the doors? Would it get chopped off? Joe’s would have. No question about it. But Diablo’s? That thing was like a third arm. If anything, it would probably end up damaging the elevator door, not the other way around.
The doors were almost closed when something really did stop them. But it wasn't a penis, or a big rapey hand. It was a feminine hand with lots of rings.
The doors slowly reopened. "You okay?" asked Frankie.
"No I'm not okay! I almost got raped!"
The liftman somehow didn’t react to that.
"They weren't going to rape you. They just thought you were asking for it."
I was asking for it? "Oh yeah, this panda shirt makes me look like such a whore."
"Not what I meant. I meant you said you wanted to try the shower..."
"Exactly!” This girl was out of her damned mind. “I wanted to see how the shower worked. Not be double-teamed by two strangers. Unless shower is suddenly a code word for penis, I don't see how those two things could possibly be confused..." And then it hit me. Oh my God. Shower was a code word for penis. I wasn’t house shopping. I was man shopping, and all the weird house lingo corresponded to attributes about the "realtors". That was why Frankie had referred to the floors as being completely smooth. And why asking for colorful walls with a double shower had brought me to an apartment with two tanned and heavily tattooed men. I suddenly felt kinda bad about repeatedly telling Ocelot how small his shower was. “Oooh,” I said. “I get it.”
"I'm sure Angel and Diablo are still willing to entertain an offer if you think that's the apartment for you.”
“Are you sure about that?” Did they actually want me? The thought was actually a little…exhilarating. What would two beautiful men like that want with a weirdo like me? Was it my fancy wig?
“Yeah, I’m sure. You saw how hard they were, right?”
“How could I not have seen?” They’d been hard. Really, really hard.
Frankie laughed. “Good point. So what’s the verdict? Are we moving on to the next place? Or do you want to sign a lease with Angel and Diablo?”
“If I do go back in…what would happen? Could I ask them to do whatever I wanted?” What am I saying? I’d officially lost my mind.
“Of course you could,” said Frankie. “Although I should warn you…Angel and Diablo do have a bit of a reputation. If you walk back in there, you better be prepared to get double-teamed.”
Holy shit. I pressed my legs together. A devil’s threesome had always been a fantasy of mine, but only in theory. I never thought it was actually a thing that could happen. “Can I look at the listing again before I decide?”
“Sure.” Frankie clicked a few buttons and handed me her phone.
A picture of the foyer was front and center. The Spanish architecture really was beautiful, but that wasn’t what I’d been curious about. I scrolled down until I got to a picture of the listing agents. They were even more beautiful than I remembered. On the left was Angel with his pouty lips and longish hair that swept in front of his capitating pale gray eyes. And on the right was Diablo. I’d been so distracted by his uh…jawline that I hadn’t noticed it in the bathroom, but he had a cross tattooed under his left eye.
“Does Diablo really have a face tat?” I asked.
“He does,” said Frankie. “It’s so hot, isn’t it?”
On anyone else it would have looked trashy, but the rest of his look was so polished that it somehow worked. His tan skin and chiseled jawline didn’t hurt. Am I seriously considering this?! My brain told me to run home. But the rest of me wanted to run back into that apartment and make all of my wildest fantasies come true. I mean it was a threesome. With two super hot guys. That sounded kind of amazing.
No. I couldn’t. I didn’t even know them. But that could be fixed…
“So what do you know about Angel and Diablo?” I asked.
“Not much. They’re brothers, and they do everything together. Including fucking. Most people say Angel is the nice one, but I’m not so sure. I knew a girl who spent a night with them, and she said that they’re equally devilish between the sheets. She also said it was the best sex of her life.”
Chastity would never forgive me for passing up this opportunity. It went directly against Single Girl Rule #8 about 8 inches and 8 abs. And I was curious... I bit my lip as I stared down at the picture of them. What was I even thinking? I couldn’t do this. Frankie’s story about her friend reminded me of one very important fact: these guys probably had a million diseases.
And even if they didn’t, I was way too awkward of a person for a threesome. I'd probably end up trying to make their penises talk to each other like sock puppets and totally kill the mood.
I shook my head. I needed to put a stop to this before I did something insane. Like actually have a threesome with two strangers. This was what happened when you let a sexual deviant out of her hermit cave. I needed to be locked up for good. "I think I'm done for the night."
"Oh come on!" said Frankie. "I still think I can find you the perfect home. I take it you don't want a double shower after all?"
"Single would be preferable."
"What about the size of that shower?
Too big?"
No way. I needed that in my life. “Not necessarily. But a bit smaller would be acceptable.”
"Good. Because those are just about the biggest showers we’ve got. Smooth floors?"
"Uh, I’d like the upstairs to be carpeted. Downstairs can be either. Not like a shag carpet though." Hopefully that's the right lingo. Wait...why am I answering these questions? I didn't want her to find me some random dude to bang. The only random dude I wanted was my stalker. Which gave me a wonderful idea. "Actually, can you find me a place where the upstairs has a long carpet? Preferably brown. And crazy colored walls. No, not walls." Crazy-colored walls would have meant the realtor was some neon-skinned sex alien. "White walls. But crazy colored art." No, that's tattoos. "Not permanent art though. Removable art."
Frankie smiled. “I’ve got just the place.”
I had no idea if anything I’d just said made sense. So I held my breath as we entered the next apartment. Was it going to be my stalker? Nope. No such luck. Instead it was some long-haired bro in bright orange workout shorts doing squats with skinny girls in slutty workout gear.
"This place is only available for rent," said Frankie. "And you'd be sharing it with some roommates."
"Gross." I quickly backed out of the apartment before anyone noticed me. Apparently my stalker wasn't an option. Because of course he wasn't. What were the odds that my stalker would have been part of the Society? "I really do need to get going," I said. "I'm starting a new job tomorrow so I shouldn't stay out too late."
Frankie frowned. "But we've only tried a few. The average homebuyer visits 8 to 10 apartments before they find the one. Not to mention that I'm the best realtor in town. What are you going to do…use an app? Every place I show you has been thoroughly vetted. You think Zillow cares about the accuracy of their listings?"
Translation: you'll get AIDS if you hook up with some dude on Tinder. Which was probably accurate. Besides, Chastity had used an app to set me up on the blind date from hell with Matthew Caldwell. So yeah…I didn’t want to use any dating apps. They were dead to me. Which meant my two options were to be alone forever or play along with Frankie's little real estate game. If I didn’t do this, Chastity would never let me live it down. And…I was really curious. What could a few more places hurt? As horrifying as tonight had been, it had also made me laugh. I was having fun. I took a deep breath. I was living. And if I figured out Frankie’s lingo, I might be able to order up the perfect man.
