Page 2 of Playing By Their Rules

“Well, get out there,” Caitlyn says, giving me a nudge in their direction.

“They’re sitting in your section,” I point out.

She holds up her left hand so her wedding ring catches the light. “I am happily married, and I don’t need that kind of temptation thrown in my path. No drama here. You get out there and flirt. I hear they’re good tippers, too.” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively.

Yeah, I bet they are. I bet they’re good at everything.

* * *

Chance

Our server is exquisite. I exchange a look with Ethan and I can tell he’s thinking the same thing I am. She blushes prettily, she’s got a luscious body. There’s something in her demeanor, also, that speaks to an innate desire to please which is constantly at war with what I suspect is hidden mischief.

Or maybe that’s just what I’m hoping for.

A hook-up with someone like her could perhaps pull Ethan out of his malaise. He’s been a pain in the ass ever since the semester ended. He needs something to occupy himself, and he’s not teaching a summer session this year.

“I’m Maisie and I’ll be taking care of you this evening,” our server says.

Her deep pink lips entrance me momentarily, before I remember myself. “I’m Chance,” I say. “This is Ethan.”

“Hi,” she says, her cheeks turning rosy. Her straight black hair is pulled into a high ponytail and she looks as if she wishes she could curtain her face with it. The thought of a shy woman opening up to us gets me so fucking hard. We could bring her out of her shell.

We could corrupt her.

“Are you a student?” I ask.

“Yeah. Yes,” she says. “I’m a student.”

“Do you go to SESA or SEU?” Ethan asks in a soft tone.

She blushes even pinker as she says, “SEU. I’m in the linguistics program.”

Perfect. A grad student, which means she’s old enough. No one under twenty-five for us. It doesn’t matter that she goes to the same school we work at because as long as she isn’t in our program, it doesn’t go against the university policy.

There’s an innocence to her as she stammers over her words. Surely she isn’t a virgin, but that faux innocence is begging to be corrupted.

When she walks away, Ethan checks her out until I nudge him. I give him a look and he nods. We’re in agreement. Now we just need to get the girl on board.

Because once she’s on board? She’ll be in bed. Between us. Her snug cunt and ass taking our cocks while she screams herself hoarse from all the pleasure we give her.

* * *

Maisie

Somehow, I get through taking their order. “I’m Maisie and I’ll be taking care of you this evening” is the last thing I remember coming out of my mouth, because as soon as the words were out there, all I could hear was the double entendre. And then my brain went fuzzy. What if they heard the double entendre? What if they thought it was intentional? It wasn’t, but what if it had been? I don’t know how to flirt, never have. I second-guess everything when I try. I know what I like, I know what I want. But when someone else enters the equation, it becomes an endless feedback loop of what they expect and want versus what I expect and want. I just need someone to step in and say, “Hey, we like you. Come home with us tonight.” If someone did that, then I could go along with it, and finally have fun, forget about all the annoying crap at my apartment, all the little weirdnesses that bother me, all the loneliness I feel, all the ways I don’t measure up.

It’s finally time to bring them the check, and I’ve been lingering for too long at their table, collecting their plates even though that’s the busser’s job.

“Maisie?”

The professors are looking at me, waiting for me to respond.

Because one of them—Ethan, I think his name is—actually said the words I’d been longing to hear. That wasn’t my imagination after all.

He says them again, his voice low and serious. “We like you. We think you should come home with us tonight. What do you think?”

“Um.” Their plates suddenly become very heavy in my hand.

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