Charlie slammed the door shut behind him, hard enough to rattle the frame. He didn't care. His chest was tight, jaw clenched. The entire day had been a mess, and the cherry on top was his mother turning his house into a personal sex-and-sales suite.
He grabbed his phone from his pocket, scrolled through the contacts, and hit Mom. It rang twice before she picked up.
"Darling," her voice came smooth and sharp, the same tone she used when selling multi-million dollar homes and ruining childhoods. "I was just thinking of you."
"Don't," Charlie said.
She paused. "Excuse me?"
"Don't think of me. Don't talk to me. Don't show up at my house, and don't ever walk in here again without permission."
There was silence on the other end. A shift in tone.
"Charlie, what's going on?"
"You brought four buyers into my house. You used my guest room like a goddamn showroom-slash-pleasure den. You smoked a cigar that wasn't yours, poured wine I didn't offer, and made Berta contemplate homicide."
"I closed the deal," she said casually. "They signed. I needed a private space with ambiance."
Charlie stared at the wall, his knuckles white around the phone.
"You do that again, I swear to God, I will call the cops."
She let out a small laugh. "Charlie. Don't be dramatic."
"I'm not being dramatic," he said coldly. "I'm done. You've always walked into my life like it's yours to manage. But you don't get to treat my home like your stage. You don't get to act like you're the queen of Malibu and everyone else is part of your damn set design."
"You're overreacting."
"No. I'm finally reacting. You think just because you're rich, you can bulldoze through people's boundaries. Not anymore. This is your one warning. Next time you step foot in this house without an invite, I'll call the police. I'm done being your son when it's convenient for you."
Her voice dropped, cooler now. "You don't mean that."
"Try me."
A long silence. Then she spoke again, quieter.
"I gave you that house."
"No, you didn't. You sold me the house. I paid hard, cold cash and cheques, in case you are forgetting. So, it's over. I'm done with you and your shits."
"Charlie..."
He hung up.
No dramatic final line. No parting insult. Just the cold, clean end of a call that should've happened years ago.
He stood there for a moment, staring at the screen, breathing hard.
Then he tossed the phone on the bed and sat down.
This time, the silence felt different.
It felt like peace.
The old Charlie could never have done it.
...
[Next Morning – 7:30 AM]
The morning air was cool, the sun still low over the Malibu hills. Charlie's feet hit the pavement with a steady rhythm, breath controlled, sweat beginning to collect at the base of his neck. He didn't have music on. He didn't need it today. The world was quiet enough, and his head needed the silence.
The past 24 hours had taken a toll. Confronting his mother had left a lingering weight in his chest, but also a strange kind of relief. Like he'd finally closed a chapter he didn't realize was still open.
He rounded a corner, picking up the pace, focused on nothing but the sound of his breath and the scrape of his shoes.
[Charlie's House – Upstairs – Master Bedroom]
Lisa sat upright in bed, a pale blue robe wrapped loosely around her. Her legs were folded beneath her, a half-finished cup of tea on the nightstand, and her laptop balanced in her lap.
Charlie was out on his morning jog.
Which gave her time.
Time to think. Time to plan. Time to reflect on the past few weeks.
Their relationship had grown stronger. Charlie had changed in ways she didn't expect... matured, softened, shown up for her in ways no one else ever had. And yet, in the quiet corners of her mind, something stirred.
Not doubt or boredom...
...Desire.
They were good. Solid. But part of her wanted more. A different edge. The kind of moments that made you ache in the best way. Not out of longing, but from intensity. From heat. From doing something bold, maybe even reckless, together just like before when they first started dating.
She clicked open another article.
"10 Unconventional Ways to Light Up Your Sex Life (And Still Keep It Deep)"
She had been exploring this rabbit hole for three days now, quietly and thoughtfully. Just out of curiosity. What would it feel like to loosen the leash a little more?
She skimmed the list again:
Public teasing
Quickies in public bathrooms
Roleplay in luxury fitting rooms
Threesome with another woman
Private couple's lap dance at a club
Sex in the backseat of your own car
Blindfolds and complete trust sessions
Using handcuffs somewhere you shouldn't
Giving your partner control… then taking it back
Hotel hallway foreplay before the key even turns
Lisa took a slow breath.
They'd already crossed a few boundaries together. That beach moment just the other night had woken something up in her. Something raw. Real. Watching Charlie behind her, the way his voice changed when he was holding back, the way she could feel him get harder just from the sound of someone else moaning nearby... it had done something to her.
And not just physically.
She'd never had this level of trust with anyone. Never felt safe enough to explore these edges. But with him? She felt seen. Heard. Desired... as a partner.
She minimized the tab and opened another one.
"Threesomes: Ground Rules, Communication, and Choosing the Right Woman"
She'd thought about that one the most. Not obsessively. Just enough for it to keep returning like a small, seductive echo in her mind. What if? Who would she pick? Would Charlie be into it? Would she?
She didn't feel threatened by the idea. Not jealous. Not even nervous.
Just... curious.
Would he be shocked? Or would he look at her with that mix of amusement and hunger he always wore when she surprised him?
She smiled slightly to herself, then closed the laptop and set it aside. She took the last sip of tea, set the cup down, and stood. The robe slid a little off her shoulder as she walked toward the mirror.
She liked what she saw.
32 years old, yet her body looked like that of a 20-year-old girl. She squeezed her boobs and felt the tightness. Then brushed her fingers over her flat tummy.
"Yeah, still got it."
...
[Noon – Balcony]
The sun hung high, warm but not cruel, casting a soft golden glaze across the ocean and the wooden deck. A gentle breeze stirred the sheer curtains behind the open glass doors. The sound of waves and wind-blown palms blended with the soft glide of oil over skin.
Lisa lay stretched out on her stomach, her bikini top unclasped, arms folded under her chin, eyes half-closed behind dark sunglasses. The lounge chair cradled her comfortably, and the warm sun kissed her back with slow, lazy heat.
Charlie knelt beside her, a bottle of massage oil in one hand, the other spreading it slowly across her bare back. His fingers moved perfectly, working it in with just enough pressure to make her hum in approval.
"You're quiet," he murmured.
Lisa smiled faintly, eyes still closed. "I'm enjoying the rare miracle of peace. Alan's gone. Phone switched off. And no Berta throwing verbal grenades from the laundry room."
Charlie smirked, pouring a little more oil into his palm, rubbing it between his hands before letting them slide along the curve of her waist, up to her shoulders, then back down again.
"You should charge for this," she said. "Or start a cult. You'd get followers just from your thumbs alone."
"I'll consider it," he said, voice low, amused. "Harper Hands. First massage free, second one comes with strings attached."
Lisa let out a soft laugh, but her body relaxed even more as his fingers found a knot near her shoulder blade.
He leaned over her, lips brushing her ear. "You know, we don't get many days like this."
"Which is why I'm letting you oil me up in the middle of the day like a poolside goddess," she whispered.
Charlie smiled and pressed a kiss to her temple. "Just say the word, and I'll build a shrine."
Lisa turned her head just slightly, enough to catch the edge of his jaw with her lips. "You already did. It's called your music folder."
He chuckled and let his hand slide just a little lower, smoothing oil along the small of her back. He shifted, kneeling lower beside the lounge chair. His hands moved down the backs of Lisa's thighs, slow and confident. He reached her calves, thumbs pressing gently into the muscle, working his way back up. Her skin was warm from the sun, slick from the oil, smooth beneath his touch.
Lisa exhaled, her body melting into the cushions.
"That's not fair," she murmured.
"What isn't?"
"Touching me like that while I'm defenseless. Sun-kissed. Half-naked. Horny as hell."
He grinned. "All strategic."
She turned her head toward him, sunglasses slipping slightly down the bridge of her nose. "Where'd you learn how to do this?"
"You know my past. Let's just say, somewhere along the line, I picked up technique."
His hands moved higher, fingers tracing just above the curve of her hips, pausing there. Not asking. Just waiting. The kind of silence that carried permission.
Lisa didn't move. Didn't speak.
But she didn't stop him.
Charlie let his palms slide gently along her glutes, slow circles, teasing pressure. It wasn't rushed. There was nothing frantic. Just the steady rhythm of connection, of someone who knew exactly how to let tension unwind without losing the tension between them.
Lisa's breath hitched faintly. She spoke without opening her eyes.
"You're going to make me fall asleep."
Charlie leaned down, lips grazing her shoulder. "That's not the reaction I'm going for."
She tilted her face up toward him. "No?"
"I'm hoping you'll turn over and ruin my day in the best way."
Lisa smiled, eyes still half-lidded, but her voice was playful now. "You want me to roll over and thank you properly?"
"I want you to roll over and forget the sun exists."
"Bold of you to assume I'm not already halfway there."
Charlie brushed his hand up her side, just to the edge of her ribs, running his fingers over her side boobs.
Lisa lifted her head, then slowly and then, turned onto her back.
The bikini top stayed where it was... unclasped, barely covering her boobs. But the look in her eyes was entirely unclothed.
She reached up, running her fingers along his jaw.
"Are you going to do my front now, Mr. Harper?" She said softly.
Just then, a familiar voice came from below... Beach... Laura. Fuck!
"Hey, I brought your towel. I washed it properly. Should I just throw it up, or are you gonna invite me in?"
---
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