BMMP Backstory
In 2015, world viral epidemic affects 25% of the population. spread through kissing, blood, and sexual contact (more m->f). Kills 13% infected men ... most purge the virus, but 30% of girls become "carriers" - who experience exaggerated development from childhood to full maturation (16-22, depending on the person). (dramatic height, hip, breast growth -- leading to caricature proportions)
four years after the epidemic, female 'carriers' are 8" to 20" taller.
late teen (16+) full maturation carriers are 6'3" to 7'10" (compared to women 5'3"-6'1", or men 5'6" to 6'4")
12yo girls are now (avg 5'5" + 18" => 6'11", compared to 5'3" boys)
10yo girls are now (avg 4'8" + 15" => 5'10", compared to 4'8" boys)
Epidemic left a majority of women (by killing 13% of infected men), shifting the majority and balance of political power.
It also causes competition between carriers and normals for men, making women more flexible about age gaps in either direction.
carriers also have increased libido and testosterone, causing their male partners to be more jealous/suspicious/protective
first female president elected (a normals-size republican woman, the democrats ran a carrier)
retail and residential doors are being incrementally replaced with 8'5" doors to accommodate carriers.
some carriers display flagrant Chauvinism
refs
savannah rahm - pic
BMMP : "Interface" Concept
Six years after the epidemic...
Yanne, a 22 y/o 7'3" gorgeous carrier moves to NYC to work in 'marketing', but the job isn't what she expected. She rents a room from a Simone (24 y/o 7'5"), who is a wanna-be struggling model/actress, who would kill to have her job, and helps her learn to enjoy it. Then Simone gets invited to "Interface", a new private club for carrier mingling, and her life changes as she becomes a highly paid 'nearly escort' carrier for the club.. eventually gaining a handful of regulars. At first she's embarassed to tell Yanne about it, and hides it
Simone finally confesses when she upgrades them both to a fancy luxury apartment. When she explains the details of Interface to Yanne, she thinks it all sounds shady, and asks what she's doing to make all that money, but then "no, i don't think I want to know.".. Simon tries to explain it's not like that... she doesn't even technically work for the club, she just goes there to have fun, and people tip her. She tries to invite Yanne, but she declines.
When Yanne asks her boss about "Interface" because her roommate has been going there, she gets excited as "it's a private club, and i've been trying to get a girl in there for months. will you're friend take you?"
Characters
Yanne - 22 y/o 7'3" "exotic" Brazilian Multi-Racial carrier... fit, trim, gorgeous curly hair
gorgeous enough to be a model, but wants to be taken 'seriously'.
gets a job in 'marketing' for a vodka brand, only to find out she's a glorified model (brand liazon)
gets a stylist, clothing budget, 'comp card' for their brand, and a bar schedule - of where she's supposed to be seen out ordering and promoting their alcohol
normally has to wear subtle alcohol brand items (jewlery, pins, peek-a-boo logo wear)
but she also is given some more obnoxious logo wear, and a brand "costume"
wants to quit, but they paid her relocation expenses and she can't afford to...
Simone would kill to have her job, and eventually convinces her she has a 'good thing'...
Simone - 24 y/o 7'5" american blonde wanna-be struggling carrier model / actress -
Others
Anthony - friendly bartender at one of Yanne's regular vodka promotion bars
Carter Merchant - founder of billabong
Steven - head of operations for billabong
Story
A 21 y/o 7'3" carrier moves to NYC to work in 'marketing' for a vodka brand (she expects a serious job, but when she shows up she finds out she's going to be a "brand liazon" - aka a roaming-bar-model).
Before going to work though, she digs through carrier-roomate-wanted ads, and ends up rooming with a blonde 22 y/o 7'5" struggling model / actress / bartender / etc..
The room is cheap ($400/month) because the unit is cheap ($1300 / month)
Simone eventually gets 'scouted' at the hotel greeter job, and invited to "Interface".. (very vague invite, "come and see")
on arrival she's coached that she's not paid, but customers will "tip" her for being a carrier-companion...
the main bar area is modest, with a stage for a small band or performer,
she's given a tour of the labrynth, of small spaces, complete with couches, small bars, TVs, that resemble a modern mansion more than a club.
including periodic "make-out-rooms", complete with closable peek-slots, and "vacant, occupied, and
a random carrier girl brings her to wardrobe, and dresses her in a black off-shoulder crop-top (pic), and stretchy wrap-skirt (pic), coaching her to wear it bra-less, and encouraging her to 'roll up' the bottom of the top as much as she's comfortable with
they set her up with a regular, explaining it's her first night, so he shouldn't try to 'have her'. he quickly hands her a 'chip' as a tip, and when she asks her mentor how much it's worth, and finds out it's worth $100, she gets into the flirting and teasing, while he eventually coaxes her to stop snatching them with her hands, to let him tuck them into her clothing.
After three nights, she quits her other jobs, and starts to get her bearings, meeting a couple other regular carriers
after she dabbles in consensual sex with a sharp wealthy british man, who leaves her an "outrageous" stack of chips ($2000)....
she tries to rationlize with her roomate Yanne that she's not an escort.
regardless, she can't resist the cash, sinking deeper and deeper into the culture (sleeping all day, being out all night, alcohol, drugs. blowing cash on a night out with Yanne)
she pulls in $20k cash her first month, and befriends another Interface carrier (who is actually interested in her), who has been doing it for 4 months. after seeing where Simone lives, the girl coaches her to think about getting a nicer apartment, immediately doing some searches. Simone insists on a 2br, with room for her roomate. So the girl finds a few, and and drags her to see one that afternoon... a cool $12k/month furnished luxury high-rise with floor to ceiling windows.
after some coaxing by her friend, (including telling her she's going to be making twice as much the next month, and loaning her the $30k security deposit) she rents it on the spot.
Simone takes Yanne to the new fancy apartment to break the news that this is their new place, they are moving there.... Yanne can't afford this, but Simone says she only has to pay the same $300/month for her room. "Okay?" Yanne says, with disbelief. Yanne starts to ask what is going on with her, sleeping all day, out all night, never at her bar job, and then this apartment. What is going on?
Simone confesses about her new 'job', at Interface. She explains what she does, and how she makes much much more money now, and her coworker (name?) encouraged her to live a little and get a nice place.
When Simone explains the details of Interface to Yanne, she thinks it all sounds shady, and asks what she's doing to make all that money, but then "no, i don't think I want to know.".. Simon tries to explain it's not like that... she doesn't even technically work for the club, she just goes there to have fun, and people tip her. She invites Yanne to check it out, but she declines.
"But you're still going to be my roomate, right?" Simon asks.
"Are you kidding me? To stay here, for $300/month? I'd be crazy to say no. Of course I'm still your roomate!"
Yanne meets with her boss...
pushes for some 'actual work' to do... the boss pokes fun at her, for being a 20 year old with free alcohol, free clothes, and wants 'real work to do'.... she shows Yanne charts of the brand lift and sales increases in her 'territory', and tells her she is doing real work
Yanne is a little frustrated, and on the way out she asks if her boss knows anything about 'Interface', because her roomate has been working there, or frequenting, or whatever. She gets excited as "it's a private club, and i've been trying to get a girl in there for months. You have to go! I'll give you a big raise if you can get an invite card there."
After two months, Simone is a fixture of the place, with most carriers and some regulars recognizing her -- and a couple regulars texting for a 'date' on fri/sat
Just as Simone is primping to meet her friday night 'date' at the club (pic pic pic pic pic pic pic ), Yanne asks if she can come with. "Of course she can!" She confesses she has a 'date' that night, but she's sure he won't mind if Simone brings a friend, and if necessary they can blow him off. "I'm so excited. What are you going to wear? What about that cute silver mini-dress?" (pic pic pic pic pic)
As Yanne goes off to change.. Simone texts her 'date', letting her know she's bringing her 'gorgeous' roomate, but it's her first time at the club, so he needs to be on his best behavior. / okay. i can make that work. i'll try to bring a well mannered friend to make it a double. shame though, I was looking forward to some private time. / "me too. i promise i'll make it up to you luv. xoxo."
At the club...
Simone uses one of her 'guest passes', and gives Yanne a little tour, with everyone greeting her and asking who her gorgeous friend is. Simone warns them to be polite, it's her first night at Interface.
Yanne finds the place unexpectedly filled with sharply dressed and well manicured beautiful people, men, women, and carriers. "wow, this is not exactly what I expected. everyone is so classy"
"i told you. this place is amazing." One of the regulars puts his arm around Simone and tells her how excited he is to see her here tonight. She confesses she has a date, "but you can have a drink with us. This is Yanne, it's her first time at Interface. Why don't you find us a booth, and I'll go get us a bottle. We're drinking (her vodka brand) tonight." / "Excellent," he promptly handed her a chip, and turned to introduce himself to Yanne, taking and kissing the top of her hand, before leading her through a door and towards an empty booth in the next room. "Well, what do you think of Interface so far?"
"I must say, I didn't know what to expect, and it's very different that I imagined. Much nicer, classier. In fact, I feel a little self-concious wearing this club dress."
"No. It's perfect. You are absolutely stunning. Gorgeous. Sheer perfection. Especially your hair. Are you multi-racial? Your look is so wonderfully exotic."
"Thank you. Yes, my parents are Brazilian, and down there we have a little bit of everything. I guess I'm part African, part Jamacian, part Latina, and who knows what else. My mother always called us a southern hemisphere potpourri."
"Well, it's a real gift, to be not only beautiful, but so wonderfully unique. Do you live in Manhattan?"
"Yes. I just moved here a few months ago, to work in marketing for (alcohol brand)."
Simone walked up with a bottle tray, and set it on the side-table and fixed two glasses as she spoke. "Yanne and I are roommates, so don't think you can tell her any secrets. We tell each-other *everything*." She handed Yanne a glass, then slipped in close next to (name?), laying her arm over his shoulder, and slipping him the other. His head barely come up to her chin as he took a sip. "Ah ah, drink up, Ryan." He responded by putting the glass to his lips and starting to slowly down it. "Ryan here is a really good guy. He's works in high pressure hedge funds, and is going through a brutal divorce, so he comes here to get away from it all and de-stress." She started playfully and roughly running her hand through his hair.
"Yeah, I used to go to therapy... but I was spending thousands a week and getting nothing." Simone gently took the nearly empty drink from his hand, then started pushing his head around. Forward, then side to side, then pulling it close to curiously drag it across her chin and cheek.
"So tell me, what are we here to forget about this week?" Simone, nonchalantly finished what was left in the glass, as if her other hand wasn't simultaneously forcing his head against her shoulder and roughly massaging his scalp."
"Work's been okay, but the bitch had the gaul to ask for more spending money while we argue about a settlement, as if fourty-thousand a month plus whatever I pay for her lawyers isn't enough. It makes me so fucking mad." He reached for her thigh, but unexpectedly started grabbing and gently hitting it. Yanne wasn't starting to feel confused about what was happening, and self-concious sitting there watching.
"You know what she sounds like to me? Greedy and ungrateful. You gave her everything, and instead of taking care of being your ray of light, your aphrodite, she thinks she can shit on you and take the fortune you built." She set down the empty glass, and dipped her head to speak more intimately to him. "It must make you mad, furious. You need to just forget her, but you can take it out on me if you want. Go ahead. I can take it."
"God!" his voice came out in an unexpected squeal, "she makes me so fucking mad!" He sobbed, punctuating his words by pounding his fist harder and harder into her thigh.
"It's okay baby, let it out. I can take it. You won't hurt me. I'm your angel. Your sexy fucking angel. I'm here to remind you this bitch is not your reality. You can find a beautiful girl to love, and cherish, who will appreciate you taking care of you, and fuck you senseless every night. That's the kind of partner you want, that's the kind of partner you deserve."
"Ohh god, Simone," he said, looking up at her half delirious, "you are so fucking sexy. Can't we just have a little time alone?"
"No baby. Not tonight. I think I saw Lindsey here. Why don't you run and find her before she's occupied."
"Shit. Okay. Yeah, I'll go find Lindsey." He stood, turning to Yanne, "sorry. I didn't mean to.. I mean... Simone just knows me too well and pushes my buttons. It was lovely to meet you." And with that, he scurried away.
"Okay. What the hell was that?!" Yanne said, looking at a nearly full bottle of Vodka he only had one gulp of, and wondering what the hell this place was all about.
"Everyone comes here for something different, and I've learned I can really help people. You heard him, his soon to be ex-wife is a bitch who steals his money. If he wants to spend $1000 to feel a little better about that by having a pretty girl show him affection and let him pound out a little anger, I'm surely willing to help him out.
"You made a thousand dollars!? We only sat together for ten minutes!"
"No. The bottle was $1000. We're kind of like comissioned bartenders, we get half of any alcohol we sell, so I made $500. Here, you deserve some too, this is worth $100." She held a chip across the table to Yanne, who frowned at it. "Ohh, don't be like that. He liked you. Take it." Simone set the chip on the table next to Yanne.
---
"This place is too weird." Yanne was about to get up, when two sharp looking gentlemen showed up, probably in their mid-30s. Simone immediately stood to greet one of them.
"Carter," she hugged him, her body towering a foot and a half over them both. "So wonderful to see you, and you found a friend to bring. I trust you talked to him about manners tonight?" She looked them both in the eye as they nodded. "Good. This is my friend Yanne. Yanne, meet Carter, and...."
"Steven, I'm Steven," he said, reaching a hand out towards Simone as if he was expecting a handshake. She took it, reeled him in, and tightly held his body against hers for a long moment.
"Wonderful to meet you, Steven. This is my friend Yanne," and she gestured to her girlfriend, still sitting on the lounger. He held his hand out, and she tenously shook it as Simone slipped back down and Carter slid in cosy close beside her. Steven had no place to go but outside Yanne, so he took a seat there.
"Looks like you already got us a bottle." He promptly took a chip and started playfully rolling it down from her shoulder, until she snatched it and gave him a little glare. She slipped it into her top, and poured him a drink before handing the bottle off to Yanne, "Would you mind pouring for Steven."
Yanne did not know what she was getting roped into, but she politely poured the drink, and picked up her own as a defensive prop. She was also reminded of the $100 chip sitting next to it on the table, and couldn't help pick it up and slip it into her purse.
"Carter owns a fashion brand that makes some kind of skater apparel. What was it? Billaway? Castaway? I forget."
"Billabong? You're Carter Merchant?" Yanne said in surprise, knowing the man was worth hundreds of millions.
"Shh," he said, "most people in here don't recognize me. I like to fly under the radar. Steven is my right-hand man, my head of marketing."
Yanne turned to Steven with a kind of awestruck stupor. "You run marketing, for Billabong." He nodded. "Wow. You're campaigns are amazing. I just got started in marketing myself, but I'm just at the bottom. I work for (alcohol brand). I've been trying to get some real work, but they have me on the street as a brand liason." She regretted her choice of words immediately.
"Don't sell yourself short, everyone representing a brand is doing 'real work'. Did you know taste buds are affected by state of mind?" He took a brief sip from his glass. "Right now my mind is associating the taste with being here next to you, and I assure you, it's making me more likely to ask for this in the future, just to remember how stunning you look in that dress."
"Simone," she said, nervously taking a larger swig, "what is this place? I want to hate it, but the men are so damn nice!" She smiled at Steven to share her compliment to him, and he smiled back.
"I told you, it's a members only club with a *very* selective screening process, so we get introduced to truly amazing and generous people." Simone turned back to Carter, leaning her head down to nussle against his, "did you miss me baby?" Yanne turned away from them.
"I know what you're thinking," Steven started, "and it's really not that sinister. It's hard for well-off or well-recognized individuals to date at all, let alone date a carrier. If the paparazzi don't crash and ruin the first date, then it becomes a game to see how long it takes to figure out if they really like you, or they are just pretending to like you. This place has alot less pretense, and everyone the time to get to know each other."
"So you're *dating* then? You come here for *dates*?" She said, skeptically but slightly playfully, taking another sip.
"Yes. Quite frankly, I do. Carter had a date with Simone, and said she was going to bring a friend, so he invited me along. I know blind dates can be awkward, and he said this is your first time at Interface, but if you'll indulge me, I might surprise you. I know a girl as beautiful as you, dressed in that dress, did not come out to be ignored." He slid a bit closer on the couch, not touching, but nearly.
"Ohh yeah?" She skeptically teased back. "Don't think I'm going to swoon for you just because you're dapper and smooth and 'well-off'. I'm looking for the whole package. Someone with heart. Someone kind to the animals."
"I'm sorry, I'm not vegetarian. However, I did visit Africa last year after donating $14 million dollars to Sahara wildlife preservation."
"You...." She stopped short, losing tempo on her witty retort. "Of course you did." She was conflicted, as she found herself increasingly attracted to him, and she had to wonder, was it the money? Still, she turned to face him and touched his shoulder. "And I bet you save starving babies too."
"A few. And those in need of medical attention. But enough about me, tell me about you. You're look is so exotic. Where are you from?"
"Indiana," she declared curtly, pausing to let it be a little funny. "I grew up there anyway. My parents are from Brazil. I was just the weird non-white kid until the crazy plague hit, and then all of a sudden I was swept up in the craziness of adjusting to all this." She looked down at herself, making reference to the physical experience of being a carrier. "And let me tell you, fitting in and finding clothes to wear as one of the earliest carriers in a small Indiana town was not easy. That's part of why I came here." When she looked back at him, she let her hand relax, sliding against the couch and brushing against his neck.
"Ahh. Leaving a small town to the big-city to find yourself and your place. It's a classic experience really. How's the big city treating you?" The feeling of her fingers on his neck was creating tingles of sensation, and he couldn't help subitly curly towards it. He reached over, and placed his hand on her knee, reciprocating the contact.
"Okay, I guess. My job is kinda fun now that I got over being barely a step up from a booth girl. And I did luck out meeting Simone, she's a pretty great roommate. She just upgraded us to a fancy new apartment but is still only charging me $300/month in rent. However, it's been much less glamor and lots more drunk people than I expected. Until tonight that is."
"You are working for a vodka brand. So dunk people are going to come with the territory. And everyone starts somewhere. When I was in my twenties, I was running my family's local video store chain in Hawaii. If you want to see un-glamorous, check out the people who come in to rent a movie on Friday night....on an island."
A little giggle burst out of here, then a bigger laugh. Something about that punch line, on an island. "Okay. You are wealthy, pretty, funny, generous, you have to be married. Be honest. You're here because you're wife is boring in bed and you're looking for a new mistress."
"Nope. Not married," he held up his hand, flaunting the lack of a ring. "And I couldn't lie about that if I wanted to, because you can just Google me." They smiled at each other. "No. Honestly, I work very long hours, and I just hadn't found the right girl. Then I fell hard for a carrier who didn't deserve me. She was pressuring me to get married, but keeping two boytoys on the side. When I found out, she insisted it was how things were with any carrier, and I should be happy to marry her anyway. Took me a while to emotionally untangle myself. After all that, I find it hard to be attracted to normal women, but wary of building a relationship with a carrier, so I just keep it to dates, here at Interface."
"Aww, that's actually really sad. Well, I come from strong Latin roots, where a man and wife may fight and scream at each other, but they don't sleep around because they'd be too afraid to get beat up or shot by a father, older brother, or even a cousin. So potentially happiness is out there for you."
"Thanks," he laugh heartedly, "compared to what I went through, that sounds idilic." He chuckled again. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get so heavy, when we just met."
"Please," she lifted her hand from his neck, and held if against his face, "don't apologize. I'm genuinely starting to like you."
"Just starting to like me, eh? Guess I'm moving too fast, you had me the moment I set eyes on you." He reached across her lap, implying her wanted her hand, which he took, and held against the top of her thigh.
Yanne felt like they might kiss, but they were too far apart for that. She looked over her shoulder at Simone to find Carter sitting across her lap, their lips locked, making out. "Simone? Maybe you two should get a room," she jabbed.
"Hear that babe?" Carter quipped, "maybe we should..." His words stopped short when she held up her hand and gestured him off her legs. Then she stood, holding out her hand.
"Yanne, let's take a girl's powder break."
Before she could stand, Steven took Yanne's hand, and firmly palmed a chip into it. "What's this for?"
"It's so you come back." She tilted her head, ready to fight him. "Just take it. I'll be here." She looked at Simone, who nodded, and then stood, following her across the more crowded room.
---
"So, do you like him?" Simone asked, looking in the mirror, and adjusting something about her hair that didn't need fixing.
"Like him? What do you mean? He's nice, and cute, and really wealthy. But I don't really know him. I guess I like him a little. He's easy to talk to, and funny." She looked at herself in the mirror, reminding herself just how much skin and cleavage this outfit showed off. She even thought she looked like she wanted to get dragged into a make-out session.
"I can tell. You like him. You should know, here at Interface, you have all the cards. If you want to just sit and get to know him, he'll give you chips for that. If you want to get drunk and make out a little, he'll give you chips for that. And if you want to take him to a private room and fuck his brains out, well.... it's all in your control. It's like a playground for carriers."
"I don't know. Can't I just get to know him without the chips? He gave me this, and it makes me feel a little dirty to take it." She held up the black chip Steven had given her.
"Holy shit, Yanne. He must *really* like you. That one is worth $5000. I better keep an eye on you girl, the competition just got stiff!" She jested.
"What? $5000? What is he expecting for $5000?" She suddenly felt a pit in her stomach, like she'd already crossed a line.
"Nothing. The club has very strict rules. We do whatever we want, and they gift us whatever they want. There are no payments, no deals, no expectations. He gave it to you, it's yours. You can walk out that door right now, and the next time he sees you at the club he will smile and probably still want to spend time with you. Though if you leave right now he might not toss you a 5-banger right at the start of the night next time.
"Don't make it more complicated than it is, Yanne. Forget about the chips. They have more money than they know what to do with, and we have nothing. They're happy to share a little to earn your trust and time with you. Just decide if you like him, genuinely like him. Is it fun, does he make you laugh? If not, i'll send them away and we can find some other guys, or blow this place and go to a normal club where we get cat-called, and spilled on, and groped."
"Other bars are aweful, aren't they?" Simone nodded to her. "I do kinda like him. Okay. Let's go back, but I'm giving him back this chip."
----
"Please, I insist you take it back," Yanne said, standing over Steven, holding out the black chip worth sixteen months of her room rent. "I don't deserve this."
"No," Steven said defiantly, crossing his arms, while simultaneously smirking. "Money and wealth are a funny thing. Do I deserve all the wealth I have? Truly? No. So I give lots of it to others. If you don't feel you deserve it, then you are free to give it to someone else. It's yours."
"You are impossible, take it," she insisted playfully, kneeling over him on the bench, making a mocking effort to find a pocket in his jacket to stuff it in.
"Hey Yanne," Simone interrupted, "is it okay if I take Carter for a lap while you two resolve this lover's quarrel."
"Uh, sure. Yeah. Go ahead." She paused her onslaught and sat on the bench next to Steven. "I'll be fine. Though if you hear choking noises, come quick, as I may have stuffed this chip down his throat." They smirked and walked away as she turned back to Steven.
"Is this what it's like having a Latin lover?" Steven jested, "first you try to kill me, then..."
Yanne giggled, but she wasn't about to lose. "You have nothing to fear, as long as you accept that I get what I want" She leaned in, stared at him, grabbed the waist of his pants, and slipped the chip into his front pocket, making sure to linger and brush the front of his pants a bit more than necessary.
"Yanne, I really like you. So when I lean over and kiss you in a moment, I want you to know it's not just because I think you're gorgeous, which you are, but it's because I'm really glad I met you, and I hope this is the start of something more." He paused, then put one knee on the couch to get above her, took her head in his hand, and brought their lips together. Gently; unhurried; he explored her oversize plush lips and connected with just a tab of tongue; trying to be in control, trying to hold back his passion. A few moments later, he peeled himself away.
Yanne liked the kiss, his gentleness, the fun she was having, was warming her up inside. So when he pulled away, somewhere inside her mind screamed out 'noooooo.' She reached around him, effortlessly pulling him into a straddle on her lap, and forcing their lips back together. As they kissed, she felt electrified by him, and the way he wanted her. She probed more forcefully with her tongue, her passion getting the better of her, before finally remembering where they were, sitting on a couch, in a room with at least forty other patrons. That sobered her enough to let go, but she still held him on her lap. It kept them eye to eye, and she liked how it felt.
"I guess that means you like me too." He slipped his hands onto her sides, where the dress fabric ended and he caressed her bare skin.
"You're doing so well. don't be a jerk. I've never done anything like this before. Well, there was one time in college, but .... I've never done anything like this before, sober. And while this feels nice, I'm a little self-conscious, because right now it probably looks like you're dry humping me in the middle of the club."
"Nobody here cares." From the scowl on her face, that wasn't the right thing to say. "Okay," he tried to pull away but she held him there, "You know, I can't get off unless you let go. We could resume this somewhere more private?"
"Yes, I think that's a good idea." She wasn't sure why she didn't let him get up the first time. It was an impulse. He stood, and she followed him, as he took them towards a vacant private room, which was not what she meant. "I meant somewhere else private? Like your place?"
He turned to her, "trust me this once. My driver is outside, and we could get in the car, but when we leave, things quickly change, the moment ends. If we walk through this door, everything stays the same as it is right now."
She paused for a moment. That's partly what she was worried about, but what did she know. She decided to take a chance, and walked into the private room. Like the other she had seen, it was dimly lit and attractive, with a large curved day-bed looking piece taking up most of the room, a small bar, and a door to a small private bath. She set her purse on the side table, kicked off her shoes, and then sat on the edge of the bed.
Across the room, Steven closed the vouyer slat, and locked the room to occupied. When he made it over to Yanne on the bed, he could tell her demeanor had changed, something was bothering her. "I can see it in your face. What's wrong?"
"Sorry. I like you. I just got this weird feeling that this place is a trick, and I'm falling for it and being paid for sex."
"I can imagine that's not a good feeling. Then let's not have sex. I refuse to have sex with you tonight, under any circumstances."
"What?" She didn't know what she expected him to say, but she certainly didn't expect him to say that.
"I'm serious. I really like you. This club is a bit much to take in, and I can't have our first date ruined because you think I have bad intentions, when nothing could be further from the truth. I promise, I will not have sex with you tonight, under any circumstances."
"You are a weird guy, Steven. I like weird." And just like that, her dread washed away and she was just having an evening with Steven and his playful banter. She reached out and pulled him in, bringing their lips together and forcing him to straddle her again. The kiss was less restrained this time, with both of them tonguing for more and caressing each other's bodies. Her top was pretty fragile, so she reached back and un-clipped the bottom strap holding it around her back, turning it into just a floating piece of fabric hung from her neck.
Steven felt himself immediately responding to her, especially as her top loosened up, affording his hands room to run freely onto and up her tummy. He hadn't been with a woman, with a carrier, he was this attracted to since his nightmare ex, and for a moment he felt a similar type of unrestrained desire flood into him. He forced himself to stop, sliding off her lap. "Let's slow this down a little. What kind of music do you like?"
Yanne scowled at him, but she knew she brought this on herself. "To impress men? Jazz? But really? Pop R&B."
"Pop R&B it is."
---
Yanne, after wandering a few laps, finally spotted Simone sitting by herself. "Hey sister," she said, scooting in next to her.
"There you are. I thought I'd lost you for the night. I hope you had some fun."
"We did, and Steven was also quite the gentleman. We just made out a little, and listened to music, and talked. I think I really like him."
"Well, don't get too attached too fast, little fishy, you just started swimming in a whole new ocean. Did he leave you any chips?"
"I didn't let him." Yanne said proudly. Simone shot her a crinkled look. "What?" Simone snatched her purse out of her grasp, opened it up, and produced two black chips, tossing them onto the bar. "That sneaky devil!" Yanne scolded.
"More like an angel. That's ten grand right there, for talking and listening to music. Plus a thousand for the private room. I don't know what you did, but he's hooked." Simone picked up the chips, and waved them towards someone across the room.
"I didn't *do* anything. Why would he do that? I don't get this place."
"Yanne, it's really simple. Some of these members, not all of them men, by the way, have hundreds of millions of dollars. That's enough to buy a private jet for every day of the week, and fly around fucking in them until they die." The woman from across the room showed up, and as Simone spoke, she took the chips, and started counting out hundred dollar bills.
"They simply have so much money, they don't know what to do with it. So they come here, for unique experiences with beautiful carriers. To Steven, that ten thousand he left is like tipping the guy at starbucks two dollars for putting extra care into his latte." The girl had finished counting, Simone nodded, and she stepped away. Simone gathered the stack of cash, the biggest stack Yanne had ever seen, and reached for her purse. "And this is your two dollar tip." With some difficulty, she jammed the wad of bills into Yanne's purse and handed it back.
Yanne looked into the purse. "You're serious, I just made ten grand? For having a good time with someone I like?" She fingered the bills in disbelief.
"Yes. Can you see why I love this place? Most nights I have so much fun I would do it for free. The fact that I make, I don't even know, ten? twenty? times what I used to, makes it incredible." She could see Yanne's attitude start to turn, as she smiled. "Ready to meet some more guys?"
"What? What about Steven? I'm meeting him Tuesday. He's taking me on a date outside the club."
Simone laughed. "You're first night, and you're already ready to take yourself off the market. Keep your date with Steven. There is no harm in chatting with some other guys, is there? You just met him, it's not like he owns you."
"Sure, I guess. But what do I do with this?" She held her purse up delicately, like there was a bomb inside. "I don't really want to carry around a purse full of cash."
"Ohh, I just did that for show. Normally I deposit on an ATM card. Though that all gets reported to uncle sam, so it never hurts to take a little in cash. You can take it to the casher up-front and they'll wire it or write you a check."
"Hello Simone," a man said from behind the both. They turned, to see he was carrying an electronic tablet. "Your friend here made quite the stir, and not just Steven. A bunch of members are talking about her. Thanks for bringing her in. You, young lady, are welcome to come back anytime. May I take your picture to add you to our list?"
"Uhm. Sure. Yes, that would be great." He quickly snapped a photo, and handed her the tablet to fill out her full name, email, mobile number, and check a box saying she is a US citizen, and provide her social security number. "What's this here?"
"That's nothing, just us being extra careful. You don't work for the club, but we do report tip income you receive, so it's all legal for the taxman. Just check there, and sign there." Yanne wasn't totally sure what she was signing up for, but she just made ten grand for going on a date, so she went with the flow. "Great, and that's all I need. You ladies have a wonderful rest of your evening, and Yanne?," he struggled a little with the pronouncation, "come back to us soon. Just give them your name at the door."
"Well that was easy. My boss said she's been trying to get someone access here for months."
"Well, you're lucky, not everyone gets a wealthy patron to put a good word in for her on her first day. I got invited on a week trial, and almost didn't make it because I was.. well, that's a long story." Simone stood. "I'm going to go find some more fun boys while you deposit that cash."
"Wait," Yanne reached out, stopping her. "One more question. How does the club make money?"
"That black chip. It's worth five thousand to you, but it costs them eight thousand to buy it. So they just made six grand because of you, plus the room, plus that bottle we sold earlier. Plus, the members pay a hefty fee to get in. The price keeps going up, and everyone is hush hush about how much it is now, but I've heard rumors it's as much as a hundred grand to buy in." Yanne dropped her jaw, speechless. "Yeah, so go deposit your two dollar barista tip and stop worrying about it."
----
Saturday afternoon, Yanne woke up to the awkward glare of sunlight streaming around the edges of her window shades. Her eyes darted to the clock, it was already 1pm. She'd slept in just like Simone! How late had they been out? She tried to remember. Three AM? Four?
It was a bit of a blur of drinking, flirting, and men awkwardly dropping hundred dollar chips into her top only to have them fall right through and out the bottom. She looked over at the spilled out pile, and quickly counted it, another twelve hundred bucks, which would have been impressive enough had Steven not generously gifted her ten grand. Her head was spinning trying to figure out how much Simone must be making. Or was that the hangover?
"Rise and shine, baby," Simone declared, pulling up the drapes. She was prancing around in wearing a black lace bra and panties that seemed a bit too sexy to just be wearing around the house. She promptly sat on the bed. "That was so much fun last night. We totally killed it."
"Ohh we killed it all right. Why, how much did you make?" Yanne sat up, rubbing her eyes to get rid of the blurriness, and get a break from the bright light.
"You really want to know?" Simone looked at her for confirmation, and then blurted out, "eighteen five. Which would be a hell of alot more impressive if you only made a thousand or two like most do on their first night."
Yanne mouthed the dollar amount without making a sound, "eighteen five? This is so wrong. We are escorts. Paid escorts."
"We are *not* escorts. Escorts charge a couple hundred bucks to fuck or rub off some ugly overweight dude that can't attract a women on his own. This is an entertainment club. We are the sexy carriers that drink free. We are mingling. You choose who you spend time with. You do what you want to do. And they are not *paying* for anything. You can leave the money on the floor if you want, or donate it to charity."
"Okay, okay, we are not escorts, but I still just don't understand this." She got out of bed, realizing she was only wearing panties, not remembering taking off her dress the night before. She looked across the room, spotting the crumpled pile of fabric, still drawing a blank. "Did? Did something happen here last night."
Simone looked at the dress, and then at her confused look, and just couldn't help herself. "Did something happen?" She said, sounding wounded. She stood, strode right up to Yanne, and took her hand like they were something more than just roommates. "Baby, we were so turned on when we got home. We couldn't keep our hands off each other. And you, you did things to me that..."
Simone saw a look of dread was over her and couldn't hold a straight face. She immediately burst out laughing, falling back onto the bed. "You should see yourself right now. I'm totally kidding. You were just so tired and drunk, you stripped right there in front of me and crawled into bed."
"You are a bad girl." Yanned grabbed a pillow and tossed it at her. "A bad bad girl."
"Ohh really?" Simone teased, turning her derrier towards her roommate. "Want to spank me? We can call Carter and Steven, I bet they would both love to watch."
"Arghh," Yanne expressed in mocking frustration. She turned to her closet, pushing clothes aside, realizing she didn't own anything frumpy in her brand sponsored wardrobe. She grabbed a white t-shirt that would have been plain enough, if it didn't large open side cutouts, (pic) and finished it off with some stretchy booty shorts. She almost looked ready for the gym, if she wanted everyone there to proposition her.
"Come on, admit it, you had a ton of fun. Come back there with me tonight. Friday and Saturday are the biggest nights of the week." Simone had moved from the bed, and bending over and touching her opposite toes, doing some kind of stretching exercise.
"I can't think about that. I need some coffee," Yanne declared, heading for the kitchen.
---
??????
where is this going? It feels kind of dumb
Steven should take her on a lavish date outside the club, with a private jet, or a private rooftop meal, a hottub, or something.
By Tuesday, Yanne was an Interface junkie. She and Simone were at a neighborhood cafe for a late lunch. Her phone buzzed, it was a message from Steven about their date, asking if she wanted to meet out, or at Interface.
"What am I supposed to say to Steven? He still wants to meet tonight, but we met so many nice guys, and I made out what what? Two of them?"
"Actually, it was at least three," Simone reminded her with a playful voice.
"Three. Shit. I need to tell him something, but I don't know what to say. Maybe I should just cancel the date."
"Do *not* do that. You like him right?" Yanne nodded. "He met you at Interface. He knows what that place is about. He didn't go there to meet someone who would turn around and go Amish. When you are with him, be with him. And don't lie to him. But trust me, he doesn't want to hear what you're doing when you're not with him. He knows you're seeing other guys, but he doesn't want to hear it."
"Okay, okay." She looked down at her phone, re-reading the message. "He's asking if I want to meet at the club or go out. What should I say?"
"Well, I'll give you the same advice a girl gave me. If you want to keep it simple, stay in control, play a part, be a little too sexy, get outside yourself, maybe fuck his brains out, but still come home to your own bed, then do it at the club. If you want to see what real life with him is like; experience that awkwardness of leaving his place at night, or worse, in the morning; and you're ready for him to ask you not to go to the club anymore, then let him take you out.
"Okay. At the club it is." She tapped out a response, trying to be a little flirty. "Interface @ 8?
OLD
Story
Prologue explaining the Biomemetic Plague.
Intro Isabella's and Steph's friendship.. (dorm roommates)...
Isabella and Steph come home from class... and we see Isabella (early bloomer) mentoring Steph (late bloomer) into carrier life
Description of their two strangely long 'extended twin' beds, and room for only one small shared desk -- but at least they have their own bathroom.
Steph gripes about trouble with clothing... "she's happy that Isabella helped her throw out frumpy boy clothes, but wearing tighter clothing she feels like guys are watching her wherever she goes." (Steph describes a specific situation)
Isabella laughs, and tells her to get used to it... posing the two of them in front of a mirror, both of them gorgeous and incredibly tall. ("it's because we look hot.") Steph feels short in comparison, as Izzy has at least 6" on her, but at 6'11" she is certainly not short.
.."that look you're getting isn't just attention, it's power. They all want you, so you can have any one you want, whenever you want. We get to choose."
.. Steph expresses doubt, "I'm not like you Izzy, and besides, it's not just students, some of these are professors, who are married."
"So? You can have them too. Even if their wives technically carried the virus, they were too old to experience the developmental benefits. I don't fault them for wanting us, we're the evolution of the species. Speaking of which, I'm headed out to the bars, want to come?"
"Izzy!? It's a wednesday, you know I have study group. Plus, I have an early exam in the morning, so please don't come home late and make a racket."
"I won't, I pinkey swear." The girls locked pinkey fingers, laughed as they hugged, and then Izzy was out the door.
[ Isabella solo flirting at the bars ] (all she does is show up, and carrier junkie college boys flock to and try to impress her with their macho take charge attitudes)
however, she notices a boy staring at her her from across the bar, and unlike most boys, instead of looking away when she looks over, he confidently waves.. she watches him out of the corner of her eye, including waving off two carriers that approach him (who notice him staring at Isabella)... eventually Isabella gets very curious, and ditches all her 'suitors' to talk to this boy... find out why he's staring, find out how he knows the other carriers and why he sent them away.
His name is Lliam, and he's a bit mysterious, insinuating that maybe if she likes all those macho guys, he's not her type...
eventually explaining his worldview that carriers are not just women, but an elevated human form.. that to him human women no longer exist, he only spends his time understanding, cherishing, and pleasing carriers..
... finally answering that one of the carriers is an old fling, and the two of them wanted to take him home... (And he told them maybe, only if isabella wasn't interested, gesturing over to where they are now staring at him and Isabella)
Isabella busts his chops a little, then admits he has her very intrigued... asking him how he would please her... (he flirts, but is also sufficiently vague)... she asked to be introduced to his carrier friends, which 'of course' he will do.
Isabella breaks the ice.. (looks like we have a mutual interest in this boy)
?? flirty banter, where the girls try to invite her to join them and make it a foursome.
?? but he politely declines.. while he'd love to spend the night in the company of you three stunning carriers, he fears he isn't up to the task of satisfying all of you in a single night... as I said, if Isabella wants me, I'm hers... and i will be yours another night
?? the two girls snicker, complimenting Isabella for being lucky she's caught his eye so strongly.. confessing that if they were her, they would stop wasting time at a bar and take him home to see why he has the reputation he does
Steph is wrapping up a study group, and chats with a boy (Cameron) who is obviously into her (and flattering to her) but also incredibly nervous around carriers.
she eventually gives him an easy offer to "hang out" after class the next day, which he excitedly accepts, and then she confesses she should get home - as she has an early exam the next morning.
Steph then comes home to Isabella on the bed, clothes disheveled, legs spread, with LLiam's face buried in her sex, moaning. She holds Lliam to his task, and gasps for Steph to just give them a couple minutes.. so Steph declares "2 minutes", and slips into the bathroom, where she can't help but overhear Izzy telling him he only has "2 minutes", before being overwhelmed with moans and gasps and a final climax.
When Steps comes out of the bathroom, Izzy is lazily flopped out, having only partially straightened her clothes, as redness shows across Lliam's lips and face, suggesting he was at it for quite a while.
Steph scolds Izzy, as she agreed to only bring boys home on weekends. Lliam interjects, introducing himself, and apologizing that it's his fault, he insisted on coming over so she wouldn't have to end her evening with a cold walk home, and instead could just relax right to sleep.
Izzy chimes in that she's sorry, though she's also glad she took his advice, because she's really fuckin' relaxed right now. Lliam politely asks to be introduced to Izzy's roommate... which prompts Izzy to apologize "ohh shit, sorry", and Step to introduce herself. Lliam is overly polite, taking her hand, apologizing for disrupting her home, and expressing how pleased he is to meet another stunningly beautiful and obviously kind carrier.
Steph blushes and stammers a little, not expecting the compliment.
Izzy interjects, "don't mind him. he kind of worships carriers. In fact, Lliam, what do you think about giving Steph a healthy dose of pampered relaxation too?"
"Of course, I would be delighted to." Though reading the look on Steph's face, he quickly surmised she would be much slower to warm than Isabella, "perhaps a shoulder massage would be to your liking?"
"No, I mean, no thank you, Lliam. I have to get to bed. I have an early exam in the morning."
"Of course, of course. Then I won't intrude any longer." He turned and grasped Isabella's hand. "Isabella, it was delightful to meet you, I'm sorry our evening was cut short, and I would be delighted to spend more time with you."
"Ohh, we'll certainly be seeing each other again." Izzy, still turned on from the evening of his flirting, teasing, and hurriedly climaxing her, grabbed him by the neck, pulled him in, and forced her tongue into his mouth in a rough and entirely impolite kiss. He gasped a little when she let him go. She reached for her phone on the dresser, handing it to him. "Before you go, you better give me your number."
[Steph meets Cameron after class... he suggests they get some coffee, and as they walk he nervously tries to figure out what kind of interest she has in him. ]
The professor winds up a lecture on Kant's view of human nature.
As students make their way out of class, the professor reminds them of their homework assignment, and Steph notices him trying and failing to hide the fact that he's leering at some of the eight carrier girls in attendance. When one carrier stops and leans over onto his podium in an inappropriately flirtatious way, his full attention falls on her and her cleavage, as he pretends to merely be ready to help a student in need. Steph shakes her head and scowls at the interaction in disgust, and still has a bit of a sour look on her face as she leaves the classroom and inadvertently fails to notice Cameron diligently waiting against the wall for her.
"Steph, are we...?" Even upon hearing her name, it takes a moment to register, another moment to turn around, and yet another moment to see Cameron. Only a glimmer of memory of their plans beginning to surface. All of that was enough time for Cameron to think he had made a mistake. "Ohh, you look busy. It's okay if something came up. We can hang out another time."
"No, no!" Steph blurted out, embarrassed she had forgotten. "Sorry, my mind was just elsewhere." She closed the distance between them, and talked softly, trying not to be heard, "did you see the way Crissy approached the professor just now?"
"Uhm," Cameron stammered at Steph's proximity. She had more than a foot of height on him. He immediately tried to buffer his reaction by peeking through the door at Crissy, still flirting with the professor. "How could anyone not notice?"
"Do you think professors actually fall for that? Give a carrier better grades just because they flirt a little?"
"I really don't know." From the way Crissy was twirling her hair between her fingers at the professor, Cameron wondered if she had intention to do more than just flirt. Briefly, the professor glanced at Cameron, and he felt instantly self conscious. He immediately turned and took a few steps, only to realize Steph was now also peering through the door. "We should probably go," he said, urging Steph to follow with his body language.
"True, I've seen more than enough. Let's go. Where are we headed?" Steph gently brushed her hand into Cameron's hip as she took a few steps, not sure which way they should leave.
"Uhm, I dunno. Do you drink coffee? I kinda like T-Roast if that's okay with you."
"Coffee sounds great," she declared, as they both started heading in that direction. She naturally walked just a little faster, so she got to the door first and held it open for him. "So what do you think of this Philosophy class? Are you into this stuff, or just doing it because you have to?"
--
Ten minutes later, Steph slipped into a cosy armchair with her coffee, and Cameron was still talking about philosophy. He slipped into a similar armchair next to her, which he looked swallowed up by.
"..and even today we're trying to figure out what free will really is, and wether we have it, so I guess that's the thing that draws me most to modern philosophy. But classical philosophers like Kant viewed free will inside the bounds of their very limited look at morality, which is a bunch of hogwash if you ask me."
"So I'm getting the idea you are a huge philosophy geek." He looked a little ashamed. "I mean, not in a bad way, but like, you think about this stuff for yourself, not just for class."
"Okay, guilty as charged. I hope I'm not boring you."
"No no," she reached over, touching his arm, "I think it's cool that you're into something so much. I haven't found anything I care that much about, yet. I guess that's part of what I'm hoping to find here at college. However, between studying, and adjusting to my recent growth spurts, I haven't had time for much exploring."
"Recent growth spurts? I thought that all stopped around age sixteen." Cameron's heart sank as a sobering possibility entered his mind. "You aren't some kind of fifteen year old college prodigy, are you?" She didn't look that young, but it was really hard to tell with carriers. Even when he was fourteen, some of his carrier classmates were seven foot tall, sexy, and womanly enough to pass for ninteen or twenty.
"Honestly, that would have been so much easier than living through high-school as a late bloomer, too tall for the normal girls, too short for the carriers. No, I'm ninteen, i'm just a very late bloomer. I've grown almost an inch a month for the past year."
"Holy crap. So you're saying a year ago, you were almost my height?" He found it hard to believe. Most carriers only grew a bit faster than normals, they usually just started really early, like age six or eight.
"Yup, a year ago I was your height, and significantly less, well... carrier-shaped," she said, trying to politely refer to the new muscle definition and womanly curves. "I'm really struggling with clothing."
"Really? There is nothing wrong with your outfit." He puzzled, looking over at the gorgeous girl, wearing a tight fitting tank and skin tight jeans like she was born in them, before realizing how awkward his comment had been. He nervously races to correct himself, "I'm sorry, I mean, I would never guess you were struggling at all. You look hot. I mean, beautiful. You're beautiful. I'm sorry if that's too much. I don't know if you wanted to hang out just as friends, or more like a date. And now I'm just babbling, because when I get nervous I talk to much, so I'm going to shut up."
Steph giggled at him, "it's okay, and thank you. My roommate has been helping me quite a bit with clothing. I'm glad it's working, I'm not yet comfortable in these clothes, or my new skin, frankly. And I think you're cute too. I haven't really been on very many dates, but yeah, this can be a date. Does that change something? Does the coffee taste better?" She teased, as she took a sip from her cup, as if to confirm and he quickly mimicked her.
"Yup!" he declared, "definitely tastes better now!" They both giggled, and he tentatively reached over, touching her hand. She responded, grasping back, sitting forward, leaning in, and smiling, After a pleasant moment sharing a look, he blurted out, almost accidentally, "god, you're gorgeous."
"Okay Cassanova," she teased, her hand tingling where they were touching, "If you keep it up, I'm going to turn beet red. Maybe you should take me somewhere more private." She hadn't expected to be so forwardly flirtatious, but something about this boy, her outfit, his compliment, this moment, was making her feel very amorous.
"Wh-at?" He said, partially coughing on a sip of his drink. He felt her squeeze his hand in response, making him confident. "I guess we could go to my place, it's only two blocks from here."
Steph didn't reply, she just nodded and gathered her things as they headed for the door.
---
They talked and joked the whole short walk to his place, but Cameron could hardly remember any of it. His attention was more focused on their physical contact. Holding hands; flirtatious bumping; slipping his arm around her waist as she wrapped hers around his shoulder; the feeling of her chiseled midsection against his fingers; the tingle of being close to her.
By the time they got to his dorm room, he was so amped on adrenalin, his hands were shaking and mind was racing, making it hard to get the key in the lock.
Steph saw his nervous energy and liked it, liked that she had this effect on him. This wasn't some jerky guy trying to get in her pants, this was a cute boy who genuinely liked her so much he was jittery. She interrupted his fumbling with the key, and pushed him against the wall, taking the key away, and leaning in flirtatiously, until her breasts were pressed into the top of his shoulder blades.
Cameron didn't know what he had done to end up here, but he didn't care. For a moment, he couldn't help look right at her chest, shoved nearly into his face. Then he looked up, their eyes met, and he tilted his head back to accept her lips. The kiss was soft and warm, with only a gentle hint of tongue.
It had been months since Steph had kissed a boy, and she had never been this forward, ever. She found it strange and intoxicating, almost like she was drunk without a drop of liquor. The sensation may have been unfamiliar, but she liked it. She also liked the feeling of his hands falling on her hips, gently holding her. When she broke free of the kiss, she still held him pinned against the wall.
"I'm going to get the door now," she declared. She had little trouble figuring out which key it was and slipping it into the lock. When the door swung open, she paused, holding him there for just a moment more, before letting him lead her inside.
"Ohh," Cameron said, embarrassed, as he immediately darted into action, doing his best to straighten the mess of empty aluminum cans and dirty clothes two guys invariably leave around their dorm room. Midway through he gestured Steph to his bed, and by the time he was done she was sitting on the edge expectantly.
As he stepped close, she spread her legs and pulled him in, this time her chest pressing conspicuously into his waist. He ran his hand through her hair as their eyes lingered on each other. He felt overwhelmed and the need to confess, "I've never dated a carrier before."
"Ohh? We went from a date, to dating," she jested. "You certainly move fast, Cassanova."
?? where is this going ??
make-out session, with both feeling each other up and her fondling and dry humping him to climax
[tail end of a conversation between Izzy and Steph about her 'date' with Cameron]
... including Izzy pushing for 'intimate details', and scolding her for not letting him 'go down there', and joking suggestion that they call him up and get him to come over and 'finish the job'
... then Izzy tells Steph about "Interface", which she heard about from Lliam.... asking if she wants to go. Steph wants to know more about what it is, including 'free for carriers', Izzy gingerly dances around some of the possible intimacy...
Steph doesn't think it sounds like her jam, so Izzy agrees to go check it out and let her know what it's like.
[ Izzy's first visit to Interface, with Lliam ]
.. exposes the issue that Lliam has family money
.. at first Izzy and Lliam just get a garden variety pampering
.. with lots of normals oogling Izzy
.. and then
[ Steph not so coyly makes arrangements for Cameron to drop by her place "to study", because Izzy is out late ]
she opens the door wearing a crop-top and mini-skirt (pic), to a surprised Cameron "whoa, quite the study outfit."
idea 1:
Steph jokes that she's actually studying the effect of this outfit on him. at the end he'll get a reward, and for every minute he can keep his hands off her, she'll add a minute to his reward.
gently folding the bottom of her shirt up to reveal a notable about of underboob. And there is a test.
idea 2: