This is a stupid idea. Suguru wars with it as she takes the short elevator ride up to Satoru's floor and then walks down the hall to her room. It's only going to fuck everything up, make this even messier.
But, she rationalizes, she doesn't love Satoru anymore, not like she did when she'd been young and so in her orbit. Sure, there's maybe some affection for her, but it's not love. Admiration, annoyance, mild affection. Appreciation, maybe.
This will let her work out some of her frustration and get a taste of Satoru, let her control her frustrations, and then the three months will be over and she'll never have to think about Satoru again. She's never fallen for any of the women she's done any of this with before; for all that she likes handling these sorts of bratty women, she wants a partner, not just a playmate. Satoru doesn't care about her, and Satoru can't offer her that, and Suguru isn't going to do something stupid like fall in love with her ex-best friend.
It's with that resolve that Suguru stops in front of Satoru's door and knocks. She's dressed in a silky black robe that sweeps the floor with soft flats on her feet. Her hair is down, falling in loose waves to her waist. No one would blink at her wardrobe, and she'd even been prepared with a story should someone ask anything, but she didn't encounter anyone in the halls, and Satoru is fairly prompt with opening the door.
Suguru looks her over, giving her a flat look. "And if I had been some creep sneaking into the hotel?" she asks, immediately moving into Satoru's space and pushing past her. "Oh, wait. You don't care about that."
She doesn't wait for Satoru to say anything, or officially welcome her into the room. Instead, she shrugs off her robe, folding it over the back of a chair, and sitting down on the sofa she has. Beneath the robe, she was wearing the sexist things she could put together from her tour wardrobe: a black bra with straps crossing over her cleavage, silky black panties and a garter belt and stockings, with a sheer nightie over those. (She values comfort more than anything for the downtime on her tours, and she hadn't thought to bring any of her usual club gear.)
"Come here," she says, leaning back, crossing her legs. Then she smirks, and points to the floor. "Crawl."
She knows Satoru won't do that, but she wants to see her react to that challenge.
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But, she rationalizes, she doesn't love Satoru anymore, not like she did when she'd been young and so in her orbit. Sure, there's maybe some affection for her, but it's not love. Admiration, annoyance, mild affection. Appreciation, maybe.
This will let her work out some of her frustration and get a taste of Satoru, let her control her frustrations, and then the three months will be over and she'll never have to think about Satoru again. She's never fallen for any of the women she's done any of this with before; for all that she likes handling these sorts of bratty women, she wants a partner, not just a playmate. Satoru doesn't care about her, and Satoru can't offer her that, and Suguru isn't going to do something stupid like fall in love with her ex-best friend.
It's with that resolve that Suguru stops in front of Satoru's door and knocks. She's dressed in a silky black robe that sweeps the floor with soft flats on her feet. Her hair is down, falling in loose waves to her waist. No one would blink at her wardrobe, and she'd even been prepared with a story should someone ask anything, but she didn't encounter anyone in the halls, and Satoru is fairly prompt with opening the door.
Suguru looks her over, giving her a flat look. "And if I had been some creep sneaking into the hotel?" she asks, immediately moving into Satoru's space and pushing past her. "Oh, wait. You don't care about that."
She doesn't wait for Satoru to say anything, or officially welcome her into the room. Instead, she shrugs off her robe, folding it over the back of a chair, and sitting down on the sofa she has. Beneath the robe, she was wearing the sexist things she could put together from her tour wardrobe: a black bra with straps crossing over her cleavage, silky black panties and a garter belt and stockings, with a sheer nightie over those. (She values comfort more than anything for the downtime on her tours, and she hadn't thought to bring any of her usual club gear.)
"Come here," she says, leaning back, crossing her legs. Then she smirks, and points to the floor. "Crawl."
She knows Satoru won't do that, but she wants to see her react to that challenge.