Girlfriend By The Hour

Girlfriend By The Hour

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

When Imogen accidentally interviews to be the social companion of Andre Lachlan, she never imagines what the job will entail.

Summary

When Imogen accidentally interviews to be the social companion of Andre Lachlan, she never imagines what the job will entail.

Chapter15 (v.1) - The Vixen

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: May 16, 2015

Reads: 1378

Comments: 4

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: May 16, 2015

A A A

A A A

Andre's promise of not needing a safe word turned out to be a lie; after three hours running an instance so glitchy they'd had to remove it from the Terreign open test server, Imogen couldn't take it anymore. There was a time when she would have killed for a spot on the open server, but they didn't pay her enough to spend another second in Redflood Cavern—even with the holiday pay Andre promised. Plus, she had crap she needed to do still this weekend.

"So Gen, what's the deal with you and Sal?" Brucey asked while Reebok resurrected everyone who had just died in a botched Polexia attempt. "She was asking about you last night."

Imogen cringed. She'd definitely been getting spanked with a riding crop when Sal asked about her. She'd completely forgotten about the scheduled run.

"Uhh, same deal it's been all month. We're taking a break, but we still live together. We're still friends. Cowlick, make sure you're putting hooks on Polexia before she hits 80%, or she'll—"

"And this new boyfriend?" Reebok interrupted. "Sal said you're staying with his family for the weekend? Seems a little fast."

Of the twenty people listening to this conversation, Imogen had only met three in person. She had no idea what Reebok's real name was; that was just his character name.  So it seemed weird that he should think anything of how quickly her relationship was progressing. And because of the anonymity, the only thing keeping Imogen from blabbing about what happened last night was how quickly it might get back to Sal. She was sure Sal would be fine with it, but she wanted to tell her in person.

Plus, Andre was sitting three feet away from her, still battling through Redflood. She wore headphones so he couldn't hear the other side of the conversation, which would make the play-by-play that much more awkward and the new NDA completely broken.

So she said, "Where the fuck was the HOT on me, Reebok? How many goddamn times do I have to tell you to keep that refreshed?"

"I did! You're taking too much damage."

No less than four people typed something akin to, "Oooh," in the chat window. As often as Reebok ran with Imogen, he was still notorious for putting himself in her crosshairs.

"You wanna stick with that?" she asked, already pulling up the log that proved several massive delays in his heals.

Silence from everyone, then Reebok said, "I'll make sure they're refreshed."

"Good answer." While the group prepared themselves for the battle, Imogen went through the strategy yet again. Of the hundreds of times she'd run Polexia, they'd hardly ever been successful, but that was what happened when 20 people had to be perfect.

She was about to tell her tank to initiate the fight when Andre said, "Wanna go out for dinner?"

She froze for a second. All day she'd been getting these weird flashes when Andre spoke to her. He'd say something like, "Go mine that vein, we got a report of it giving spineblooms," and she'd see him standing in front of her, staring down at her breasts with molten eyes. Or she'd feel his exposed chest on her spine. She'd hear him call her amazing and she'd feel an uncomfortable sensation in her underwear and a warming in her cheeks, except those last two were real.

And damn that blush, because every time it happened he'd get a look on his face that said he knew exactly what she was thinking about.

"Oh. Sure," she said both too slowly and too quickly in her rush to recover, eliciting another one of those looks.

"Awesome. I'm gonna have Branson get the Aventador out for us. Go ahead and log out."

"What? No, I thought you meant after my raid." She hit her mic button and told her tank to go. "See? I can't possibly leave now." Her attention automatically snapped to the screen, where her tank was already taking damage—damage she absorbed every time she healed him, hence the additional healer keeping her alive—so she didn't notice Andre's absence until he'd already returned to his computer.

"Have you ever had a guinea pig?" he asked.

"Never had a pet. Dandan, back off before you aggro."

"They make this popping sound when they're excited. It's the same sound you make when you're thinking hard. I could combine you and Volda together and make a human guinea pig."

Imogen hazarded a glance his way. The popping sound was well documented—it wasn't uncommon for Imogen to accidentally tap the mic button when she was concentrating—but she didn't know the level editor much beyond the fact they shouldn't be combined to make a human anything.

Andre's grin as he typed made her deflate slightly, but she didn't have time to dwell on it.

"80%! Hooks!" she yelled just as she noticed a twenty-first member of the raid pop up on the screen. Hmm. MrDreKC. Fuck.

And then, in surround sound from both her headphones and two computers away, she heard, "Hey, erm, CrapSandwich? Still got the level 6 holiday bitch?"

"Yeah," CrapSandwich—a.k.a. Mike—replied without question. It was impossible to recognize everyone's voice to know which speakers to actually listen to.

"Awesome. Queue her up now, sic her on Pol at 75."

"The fuck are you doing?" Imogen hissed at Andre.

"Giving you guys a more effective strategy. I'm hungry."

"How the hell is an outranked novelty pet a—Oh my god Mike do not bring her out you need to—"

The scantily clad elf-like creature, used mostly as cheap entertainment during resets and sillier duels, darted out from the cluster of spell casters. Imogen watched in horror as her aggro meter, clocking who was garnering the most attention from Polexia, shifted rapidly. One moment Gemini read 23% with Dandan and Imogen's character close behind; the next moment Vixen—more popularly known as the holiday bitch—was capped at 90%. Polexia would kill her instantly, and before Dandan could get his aggro back they'd lose half the group.

They were fucked.

Imogen started to berate Andre for deliberately wiping the raid but fell silent when her attention was pulled back to the screen.

Polexia wasn't attacking Vixen. Instead, she was lying down in front of the holiday bitch, enthralled. Her various shields had also fallen. The DOTs—Damage Over Time—that had already been on her killed her without any additional damage done.

Imogen stared blankly at Andre.

"Let's go get dinner."

She was silent for the next second.

"Go on," he urged. "Distribute the loot so we can eat."

Imogen looked back down. On the screen was a list of goods won, including the helm she'd been desperate for. She right clicked on it but had to close her eyes before pressing Delete. She repeated the process for every single item and took several deep breaths.

Meanwhile, both the chat window and the head phones blew up. Everyone wanted to know what they got and who shared the awesome hack.

Andre was looking at his own screen and scowling. "You destroyed everything? I gave you your helm. And Gemini his shield. Despite your argument last night, a good tank needs a dependable shield."

Imogen hurled a cup of pens at him with guttural roar. "Do you have any idea how many fucking times I've run this shit dungeon to get that goddamn helm?!"

Andre rubbed his arm where the cup had hit him. "Ow. That's why I programmed it to drop."

"So, what, you thought it would be funny to exploit some stupid glitch and dangle it in front of my face to see if I would take the bait and cheat?" She ripped the headphones off and spun away in case she started crying. She wasn't upset, just pissed, but she felt it brewing in her chest.

"My apologies, boys," Andre said into his mic. "I seem to have upset my girlfriend. And you, missy, that wasn't a glitch. That was a beta failsafe. All the bosses have them so if we need to run on a public realm we don't have to waste time on fights. The Nightmare Before Hanukkah you got last year takes out Anfernee if you want to continue this run, but I'd much rather be eating now."

Imogen bit down hard on her lip. It didn't matter that it was deliberately programmed, it was cheating. The world was plagued with people who didn't get what they deserved, and Andre had just robbed her of a chance to prove she wasn't one of those people but could still get everything she needed without help. "I seem to have lost my appetite," she said dryly.

"Christ on a cracker. I'm sorry I ruined your run." She heard him click over his mic before saying, "I'm sorry I ruined your run, guys. I'm going to take Imogen out for an apology dinner at her favorite shitty vegan restaurant even though the service is atrocious and I'm pretty sure it's a cult, and then I'll reset Pol for you guys. If anyone can't make it, I'll replace you with someone from my crew and send you whatever gear you would have gotten."

He laughed then, and Imogen couldn't help but glance at the screen to see what was being said. There was some concern that he was lying, several requests for gear checks to prove he could handle the run, and an accusation that he was from cLoSeD, the highest rated and most hated guild on the server.

This accusation came with a follow up that Imogen was sleeping with the enemy.

"Relax," Andre told the group. "Everything is kosher, I'm just the guy who made Terreign."

Which, unpredictably, not a single person believed. Imogen rolled her eyes, mostly at herself as she put her headphones back on and listened in on the ridiculously in-depth verification of Andre's identity. Even when everyone agreed that he'd passed, Dandan pointed out that it only proved he knew everything about Andre Lachlan that the rest of them knew, so what? In accessing several of the group's accounts to force their characters into ridiculous outfits and gift them with exclusive novelty badges, he only proved himself to be a gifted hacker.

Finally Andre said, "Imogen, where was our first date?"

The memory made her heart clench. That night felt like a roller coaster. The steakhouse, the storm, Hell. And it reminded her she shouldn't be here right now. He knew she was a mess their very first date. If he'd been smart, he would have dropped her then. Why would he bother—

"You did give me the pillow and blanket!" she gasped.

His eyebrows pulled together slightly. "First date. Where was it?"

God, what if he'd seen her on the treadmill—no, not even if. He likely had. He knew she habitually pushed herself beyond her bounds. That was why he wanted her in Hell, wasn't it? Because she'd let him break her. She let him break her. Why had she done that?

She winced as her heart constricted further, but Andre was already standing in front of her, nudging her face up to look at him. "Whatever you're thinking right now, you're wrong."

"How would you know if you don’t know what I'm thinking?"

He kissed her forehead. And that was okay, because the contract allowed him several liberties on the ground floor of his home. "Because you look sad, and there's nothing to be sad about. Now tell them where our first date was."

"The Botanicals," she whispered into her microphone, her eyes not leaving his. She didn't believe him—there was always a reason to be sad—but it didn't ache so much when he looked at her like that. Or it ached more, but in a pleasant way.

His eyes didn't waver either as he leaned in close to say into her mic, "Now one of y'all look up the recent Botanicals Reception, see who accompanied Andre Lachlan."

A moment later Brucey said, "Hot damn, Gen. You looked like shit last time I saw you. What happened?"

Andre reached out and covered the hand Imogen had on her mouse, pressing down on the finger over her mic button.

Monday. Two days off, one day on, as stated in the contract. He’d kissed her several times today, hugged her and squeezed her hand and made numerous innuendos about his plans for their future endeavors in Hell, but this was the first time he’d taken control of her. It wasn’t even anything, just a bit of pressure on her thumb to force it against a button, but it made her hate that schedule. A whole weekend and then a day back at the office seemed like forever, and when he’d explained the necessity of the schedule, he’d done so apologetically. He was sorry to demand so much of her time but he needed it. She should have told him he could have all her time. She wanted to say being an adult and having to be responsible and making mature decisions kind of sucked, so she was glad to let him have as much control of her as he wanted.

More than he wanted, if he didn’t want it always. She’d gladly live in Hell if it meant she didn’t have to be herself any more.

“I’m sure she was lovely,” he said into her mic.

“No, I looked like shit. Brucey’s right.”

“Impossible.”

Imogen chuckled. “You haven’t seen me in my fat pants yet. And you won’t because I have those days off. Now let’s get the amazing vegan food to-go so we can fix your mess.”

“Fuck, let’s just send Branson to get the shitty vegan food.” He leaned down, and Imogen expected another kiss. Instead he snagged one of her blonde curls and brought it to his nose.

“You realize the sniffing hair thing’s really creepy, right? I don’t need to tell you that?”

He shrugged. “That doesn’t matter to me anymore. Also, when exactly will you be pulling these fat pants out next?”

Imogen definitely paled at the question. She checked her hand to make sure she wasn’t pressing down on the mic button before saying. “Uhh, two weeks? Maybe pushing three?”

“Yeah, I’m not waiting that long to wash your hair.” He covered her hand again to push the button. “Let’s pick this up in an hour. Imogen and I are gonna take a bath and eat some shitty vegan food.”

Imogen knocked the headphones off before she had to hear any of the responses.

 

~..~

 

Amanda one-upped everyone’s warnings that Andre be nice to Imogen by forcing them to sit down and discuss what had happened. It was every bit as embarrassing as the time Andre’s mom found out he was having sex with his girlfriend in high school. Cordelia was proof of how effective that conversation was.

Imogen was uncharacteristically stoic during Amanda’s interview, answering all her questions with single-syllable answers. She didn’t hide behind Andre or even blush as she responded briefly but truthfully. When Andre squeezed her hand, she retracted it. When Amanda asked her to remove her dress so she could see the bruises, Imogen didn’t argue.

Andre was fascinated by it all. With him she tried to cover herself when she could and closed her eyes tightly when she couldn’t. She buried her face in pillows and failed miserably at sneaking peeks at him that he pretended not to see for her sanity. But she stood confidently under Amanda’s scrutiny, shamelessly lifting her arms out and allowing Amanda to pull her panties down enough to see her backside. When Amanda pulled her bra straps down to check for rope marks, Imogen’s only protest was a request to turn her back to Andre. She was used to her body being scrutinized like this. That was the only explanation.

Or, Amanda was a woman so Imogen was more comfortable with those hands. If this inspection was happening downstairs, Andre wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of that. Amanda had never protested touching other women back in her club days. He was sure she’d deliberately chosen to perform this inspection in Imogen’s suite, so he was left with nothing but the fantasy of the two girls.

A fantasy which was squelched by a withering glare from Amanda.

“Dammit, Andre. You tied her way too tightly.”

“Did not,” he protested, feeling very mature about his response.

“Then it was for too long,” she challenged.

“She knew the safe word.” Amanda stared him down until he finally admitted, “I lost track of time.”

“She’s new,” Amanda reminded him. “You have to go easy on her. And you know that. Now, what the hell is this about?” She pulled Imogen’s panties down once more but didn’t give Andre any time to appreciate the hint of purple in the shape of his hands before bearing into him. “You punished her? Are you serious? I’ve never even seen Imogen do anything outside of Hell to deserve this.”

He shrugged, attempting nonchalance. If he made it sound justified, it would be. “She fell. And she looked at me.”

Amanda crooked her finger, encouraging him to approach them. He absolutely did not want to do that, but he couldn’t argue. True to his expectations, when he reached them Amanda smacked his cheek soundly. It wasn’t a playful slap, it was a mama slap. “What were you doing that she fell? You had her in some situation that was completely inappropriate for her first time in there, didn’t you?”

Andre was silent, so of course Imogen chose this moment to go into great detail about what happened. Amanda let her tell the whole story, all the way through her orgasm in Heaven. Because she was faced away, Imogen had no idea how angry Amanda got. Even more importantly, she didn’t see how mollified Andre was. If she did, he’d never regain a dominant position over her.

“Let me get this straight: you told him to stop and he didn’t?”

“Yeah, but he warned me of what stop meant so it’s okay.”

“It is not okay! That’s only in Hell.” She leveled her coldest glare on Andre. “You’re taking advantage of her. That ends now, got it?”

He scratched the back of his head and grumbled, “She came. It’s not a big deal.”

“Want me to slap you again? I don’t care if she came so hard her vagina whistled Dixie. Don’t you dare bend the rules just because she doesn’t know them.” She grabbed Imogen by the shoulders. “Listen to me: next time you tell him to stop outside of Hell and he doesn’t, you punish him. No Hell for at least a week should do the trick. And if you ever, ever, use your safe word and he ignores it, this ends immediately. And use that word. It’s going to be hard at first, but don’t be afraid of it. That’s the only way he’ll learn your limits.”

Andre wanted to argue against that—he was very good at observing her, he’d just been a bit disoriented and reckless on Friday night—but he said nothing. Amanda was right about one thing. Imogen did need to get comfortable with that word.

Amanda released Imogen and craned her neck up to Andre. He quirked his eyebrow and leaned to kiss her.

“No, stupid. My lock. We’re done.”

He frowned. This was the proper order of things—well, the proper order would have been to do this before Imogen ever set foot into Hell—but it felt so abrupt. He’d had a good couple of years with Amanda. He didn’t want it to end on a sour note.

He sighed and did as he was told. When it was unlocked, Amanda held out her hand.

“I’d like to keep it. We had some good times. I’m gonna go start packing.”

“You don’t have to leave right now,” Andre protested. “I’m not going to put you out on the street.”

This time she did crane up to kiss him on the cheek. “It’s cool. Sarah’s been looking for a roommate. She’ll be happy to have me.” She hugged both him and Imogen. “I think you’ve got some kinks to work out, but this will work. You guys are good together.”

Immediately after she left the room, Imogen slipped her dress back on. When she faced Andre again, her cheeks were red.

“You’re absolutely confounding,” he said. “You know that, right?”

She giggled. “I’m a woman. That’s pretty much standard, I think. God, that was rough.”

He rubbed her arm. “All things considered, that went well. I expected her to attempt to cut my dick off.”

She feigned horror. “But that’s your best part!”

He leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “You’ve no idea how great it is yet.”

She tensed awkwardly and stepped away. Yeah, a couple kinks were left to work out. “Umm, we should head down to the airport. Sal’s flight gets in soon. At least she won’t be mad about all this.”


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