Chapter 115 Worse Than Locker Room Talk

Chapter 115 Worse Than Locker Room Talk
Dorian's hand twitched, and that odd, flesh-and-rot taste burned at the back of his mouth.
"I'm going to be sick." He leaned forward as his stomach gave a lurch.
"You know where the bathrooms are." Animkii put a hand on his back. "But I will forgive you only this time if you can't make it."
"I'm fine."
"Dorian--"
"I'm fine."
He turned and shuffled toward the living room. Mason was on the floor with a tablet of his own and a dry-erase board, erasing what looked like plays.
Mason looked up, and his eyes widened. "What happened?"
Dorian sank to sit beside Mason and struggled to breathe, dropping the tablet on the table. 
"A-Amber just walked into my villa." Dorian swallowed, trying to steady the rising bile burning up his throat and the unnerved, deeply unsafe blaring through his nervous system. "S-She had keys."
A blanket wrapped around his shoulders as Mason set his tablet aside. 
"I-I should have changed the locks when all this started. Should have stayed on top of it. She wouldn't have... She would never have been able to--" He cursed "What the f-fuck is wrong with me?"
"You're going into shock," Mason pushed to his feet. "Stay here. I'm going to get you something hot to drink. Alright?"
"It's stupid. She's not a threat."
Even if she tried something, he could bench press her and the rest of her friend group with ease. 
She wasn't a threat.
She was just... a nuisance. 
An unwanted guest.
"Anyone who wants to control you and has free access to your house is a fucking threat," Mason hissed. "Breathe."
"Ly-Lydia's stuff..."
"Easy. Think about that later. It's alright."
He shut his eyes and wished that were true. The squirming, roiling dread told him it was anything but okay. His phone chimed in his pocket, and he pulled it out. 
Lydia: You're at home, right? I'm almost there. Can we talk? My phone's dying, but I'll wait for you. I'll make more limonada?
"Fuck!" Dorian hit call, but the call went straight to voicemail. 
He pushed to his feet and took off to the door. 
"Dorian!"

Lydia reached Dorian's front door, mostly ready. Mostly. Armed with a handwritten letter full of words she wasn't sure she was ready to say out loud and a handful of tools she could use to get through at least the start of this conversation, she was pretty sure she wouldn't throw up, pass out, or burst into sobbing. She opened the front door just as glass crashed to the floor. 
Before she could call out, a giggle came from around the corner. Two others followed. 
Her stomach plummeted. 
Women?
Lydia thought back to Dorian's words and hit record on her watch, lips twitching at how useful the stupid fitness watch had been as of late. She walked forward, noting the three women standing in the kitchen. Colorful glass covered the floor in distinct sections. She recognized them as Dorian's new colorful glasses. The ones she left in the accessible cabinet instead of his nice, hand-crafted ones, but she couldn't remember if she'd put them up after the last time he'd pulled them down.
The dark-haired woman with beach curls at the cabinet reached for the last of them. Dorian's flag blanket was stuffed in the trashcan along with a few of his plates.
Who the fuck was this woman?
The dirty blonde with near-golden highlights laughed. "Well, what are you going to tell him?"
"Well, you know how Dorian is." She tossed the glass over her shoulder into the pile on the floor. It landed with a loud crash. "As soon as we get started, he'll be too busy to worry about it. He's always a second away from coming as soon as I get him in my mouth... Might let him try anal as a reward after we get this place in order and kick out Becca."
What the fuck was she hearing, right now? Was she an ex? An ex fuck buddy? A conquest? A girlfriend?
None of those options sat well with her.
"Did they give you a wedding date yet?"
"Spring. After they win the next Cup, I'm thinking we'll have it a few weeks after that. You still have room in your hotel suite for me?"
"Anything for you, Amber," the bleach-blonde woman said, leaning her thin frame against the counter. "I'm on a campaign for a baby this year."
Amber? Lydia narrowed her eyes. Was she one of Dorian's prospects? How'd she get into his house? She pulled out her phone, glowering at the dead battery.
The dirty blonde chuckled. "I'm surprised it hasn't been done already."
"The Society agrees that it's time to move on with the plan. Enough stalling. What about you? Have you gotten a hold of Mason yet? I'm expecting you two to coordinate for the event. I want good pictures."
Lydia stepped back, keeping out of sight as Amber turned from the cabinet. Another crash came.
"Where are all the nice glasses?" Amber sighed. "Add it to the list. He makes enough. I want to be drinking out of crystal."
"What do you do to that man to get him going?" The honey blonde huffed. "I swear, the way you talk about your sex life, he's crazy about you."
Lydia's stomach flipped. A lurch of insecurity hit her.
"Trying to spice things up with Mason?" The bleach-blonde chuckled. "You really need help?"
"He never really had much of a sex drive."
"Slip him some viagra." The bleach blonde said. "Works every time."
Lydia's jaw dropped, and she glanced up at the tiny blue dot of light. Was there audio recording? She dropped into a crouch and peered around the corner of the hallway. She caught the profile of the honey-blonde and Amber's face just as she turned. Pretty. Lots of makeup to accentuate her eyes and put color in her cheeks. Her eyelashes looked unnaturally long, but Lydia wouldn't judge. After meeting Reign, she just accepted that some women got extra goodies in their looks bag at creation. 
Thin lips that were painted a hot red, in heels and a lacy, shin-tight bodice and cheeky underwear, she looked like she'd just crawled out of bed.
Had she?
Hadn't she been thinking there was no way Dorian would be okay with waiting for a potential for Lydia's brain to get unfucked?
She cringed at the thought. Hadn't she also been amazed and terrified by how much she trusted Dorian's words?
"Maybe when his dick doesn't work, but Mason's dick works fine... I'm pretty sure."
"Micro-dick?"
The bleach-blonde laughed. 
"With what he's getting paid, it hardly matters. I just need him to use it at least once, get pregnant, and I'll be set for life."
"Why wreck your body?" Amber asked. "Seriously."
"Some of us have leverage, some of us don't," the honey blonde said and gestured to the bleach blonde. "You two might be lucky, but not me. It's a small sacrifice... besides, I'll have him pay to fix it. No problem."
"Call that cleaning service, would you?" 
And that was her opportunity.