The Long Island crew receive a provocative picture from MC
Anya took one last swig of wine before setting the bottle down and standing in front of the mirror. She ran her hands through her hair, trying to make it look more voluminous, and smiled when her raven locks fell down in sultry waves around her shoulders. She rarely fussed over her appearance, and almost never bragged about how she looked, but at that moment - that exceptional moment of drunkenness and lust - she thought she looked damn fine. She was clad in a lacy and risque black ensemble; the bodice pushed snugly around her breasts, her panties hugged her hips perfectly, her stockings ran down her legs, sticking to her like second skin, and her red bottom heels made her feel feel ridiculously powerful for some unknown reason.
Now that her outfit was done, the only problem left to tackle was how to pose. She wanted to look sexy and inviting, but also classy. Anya spent a considerable amount of time awkwardly posing on the bed in different positions before she finally gave up and googled pictures of models posing. She found one which she thought was achievable and set the camera on the desk in front of her. The bed was deliberately unmade just for the occasion, and the room was darkly lit by a number of strategically placed candles. She positioned herself on the edge of the bed and sat slightly sideways, with one leg bent and the other jutting out gracefully, accentuating the length of it. Anya looked at the camera, and as the red light blinked in time with the countdown before it took a shot, she thought of her husband. An unquenchable heat coursed through her body, clouding her eyes with lust and making her smirk.
She walked over to the camera and checked the shot. It was perfect. She gave a low, husky chuckle as she took out the memory card and hooked it up to her laptop.
Yamato sighed, rubbing his temples as he finished grading another disappointing test paper. Do any of these damn kids listen to him in class? He had half a mind to take these papers home and use them as kindling for their fireplace. The buzz of his phone disturbed the silence of the room, and upon seeing the email notification from Anya, his eyebrows furrowed. ‘She usually calls,’ he thought to himself. It would be the last coherent thought he would have for the next minutes; the picture that filled his screen wiped his mind clean of any rationality. His wife was clad in the most precious, sultry lingerie he had ever seen her wear, and as if that wasn’t enough, the look on her face made him feel warm and his pants tighter. His hands shook as he texted her. “What are you doing?” It did not take long for Anya to reply. “You, if you get back here fast enough.” Without another word, Yamato gathered his students’ test papers, shoved them into a drawer, and walked out of the faculty room as fast as he could. He kept a straight face as he passed by and greeted his colleagues along the way, strategically positioning his briefcase in front of him to hide his raging erection. He finally reached his car and drove out of the parking lot like a mad man, muttering about how Anya was trying to fucking kill him all the way home.
Ren adjusted the microscope, keeping his eyes on the specimen of fungi he was studying. His research on it had been taking up most of his time and attention, much to his guilt. Anya had reassured him time and time again that she understood, but he knew that she was nonetheless disappointed. It had been months since he’d taken her out for a date, and even longer since they’d been intimate. ‘Just a few more days,’ he thought, trying to comfort himself. ‘Just a few more days, and this will be done.’ He just hoped Anya could wait a bit longer. An email notification appeared on his phone, and when he opened it, he knew his wife had finally had it and could not wait a second longer. His screen was filled with the image of her beautiful posed body, accentuated with dark shadows from the ambient lights of candles. She was wearing the most alluring lacy ensemble he’d ever set eyes on; all thoughts he had a while ago about his research disappeared at the sight of Anya in all her seductive glory. A short message came with the picture. “Just in case you need a break.” Ren took his lab coat off and carelessly flung it over his chair. “Not staying late tonight, Ren?” his colleague asked from the table beside him. Ren smiled politely and shook his head. ‘Not here, at least,’ he thought.
Saeki tried to focus on the task at hand. Any other day, he would have enjoyed talking to countless of beautiful women to shortlist for the show, but not right now. He kept remembering Anya, who, in a jealous fit after knowing what he would be doing, locked herself up in their room without saying another word to him. He was hoping that this was something that would pass once she had cooled down. But, so far, Anya had not called or texted him, and he was getting nervous. ‘I should contact her,’ Saeki thought. He turned to the producer and asked to be excused. Just as he was leaving the room, his phone buzzed, notifying him of a new email. It was from Anya. Saeki raised a brow and opened it hesitantly. What greeted him was something he never expected to see. His wife was posed on their bed, breathtakingly delicious in a lacy black number that left nothing for the imagination. Her face was dark and inviting, and he was instantly drawn in. He did not know what this meant, but if this was Anya’s idea of extending the olive branch, then he’d better start making her jealous more often. “I’m on my way home,’ he texted, heading out of the studio without bothering to let the others know.
Takao let out a sigh of relief as he finally closed his report on the case he’d been working on for weeks now. It had been a tough one, but they were able to defend their client successfully and the job was done. He thought of Anya, and in his excitement, took out his phone to call her. He saw an email notification from her, which surprised him. He opened it, and all the blood left his head…and went to another head. Anya was posed her body invitingly in the most stunning lingerie, seducing him through the screen. Along with the picture, she sent a brief message: you deserve a long-awaited break, attorney. Takao clenched his jaw tightly, breathing hard as he tried to abate the lust that flooded his veins and coursed through his body. It had been too long since they had been intimate, and with this image feeding his libido, he wasn;t sure if he could be as gentle with her as he usually was. But maybe that was just what she wanted. “I’ll be home soon,” he replied.
Yuta groaned, pulling at his hair in frustration. He was at the Kunian, trying to write a new skit for their comedy show next week, and he had zilch. Inspiration needed to strike him like lightning fast or he would be in big trouble; he depended on his shows for money, and he wouldn’t like to burden Anya with covering most of the expenses at home. The thought of Anya gave him the sudden need to contact her. He found that she was online and chatted her up. “How are you doing, Ani?” he asked. “I’m fine. How about you?” she replied. “Not good. My brain’s a desert.” “Well, I hope this helps you.” To his surprise, Anya sent an email. Yuta gasped loudly upon opening it, his whole body freezing at the image of his wife posed like a sexy pin up girl. Her face lacked the usual sarcastic calmness she usually had on; instead she looked feral, and inviting, and very, very hungry. For what, he already knew, and it made his head swim. “I think I’ll continue working at home,” Yuta typed in fast before shutting his laptop close and bolting out of the bar, ignoring his friends’ calls.
“Why the long face, Kuni?” Saeki asked, leaning against the counter beside Kunihiko. The latter had his arms crossed, and his posture slouched with the heaviness of a man with a problem. When he didn’t answer, Saeki snickered. “So, it’s Anya.” Kunihiko raised an eyebrow at him, ready to retort, but no words came. He just didn’t have it in him today. Instead, he just sighed and took his hat off, running a hand through his wavy hair in a dejected manner. God, only Anya could make him feel this pathetic; but he couldn’t blame her. She was right. She wasn’t some naive little girl, so he had to stop treating her like one. His phone buzzed loudly on the counter, making him and the others turn towards it. It was an email from Anya. “Ah, reconciliation is sweet,” Saeki purred, pushing the phone towards Kunihiko, who grabbed it eagerly. He opened it, his hope and excitement quickly disappearing and turning into something more…primal. Of all the things he expected his wife was capable of doing, he never - not in a million years - would have thought she could do this. Anya had sent him a picture of herself in a provocative pose, wearing the most daring black number he had ever seen her in. She looked ravishing and painfully delicious. Along with the picture, Anya had sent a short message. “How innocent do I look now?” “Sweet Jesus.” Kunihiko was snapped out of his lustful reverie by Yamato’s breathy gasp to find his friends gathered around him, all eyes trained at his phone. “What the hell - seriously?” Kunihiko cried out, covering his phone with his hand and giving each of them a threatening glare. They backed away immediately, throwing him teasing smiles despite the blush on their own faces. “So, I take it you’re going home right now, eh, Kuni?” Akito sniggered. Kunihiko frowned at him, but did not say anything as he walked out of the bar.
The models rushed pass him, laughing among themselves as they celebrated the success of another show. A few of them thanked him for his work on their makeup, and he replied politely to each one. The room was bustling with statuesque women wearing elaborate haute couture, and the scene was a colorful mess of glitter and sparkles. Akito took out his phone and took a picture, sending it to Anya to let her know the show was done. “Congratulations, sweetheart, but you’re still up for another show,” Anya texted back to him. “What do you mean?” he replied. His phone buzzed. Anya had sent him an email. He opened it and held his breath. He was surrounded by a sea of models in daring ensembles, but none of them knocked the wind out of him the way his wife did in a simple, lacy number, posed provocatively on their bed. She was a vixen, and he was smitten - mind, body and soul. “I’ll be home soon,” was all he texted back as he waded his way through the crowd, trying to leave as fast as possible. One of the models clasped his arm and asked if he wasn’t staying for the after party. He smiled and replied that he had his own party to go to.
Kyoichi growled in frustration as he threw his papers away from his desk, sending them scattering all over the floor. It had been two days since he and Anya had last spoken, and it was getting on his nerves. He couldn’t sleep, or eat, or do his goddamn job. He can negotiate treaties with other countries but not with his own wife? Unable to take it any longer, he took out his phone to call Anya. Just as he was about to ring up her number, an email notification arrived. It was from her. Kyoichi scrambled to open it, nervous at what she had to say. There was no message, only a picture of the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. Anya was wearing lingerie he had ever seen her wear before, seducing him through the screen with dark and lustful eyes. He did not know if she was still mad, but he would take this as an invitation - and one he certainly wouldn’t turn down. And in the case that she was still angry with him, then at least he finally had the opportunity to appease her.
The convention had gone on longer than Haruka had expected, and as much as he wanted to leave, he had to keep up with the formalities, seeing as most of his family’s business partners were present. He kept smiling and nodding politely at every conversation, but his mind was somewhere else. He had cancelled a date with Anya over this, and the guilt was clawing at him the entire day. His wife assured him that it was okay, but he knew better. When the chance came, he snuck to the bathroom and drew out his phone to call her. There was an email from her, which confused him because she usually called. He opened it, curiosity quickly turning into shock, then to lust as the picture that filled his screen drew him close like a black hole. Anya was dressed provocatively in lacy lingerie, posed on their bed like a work of art. She looked breathtaking and painfully tempting. His whole body ached with the longing to touch her, to hold her, to make love to her. But this confounded convention was showing no signs of ever ending. He stayed in the bathroom, thinking hard, before he finally decided to ditch the event and fly home, consequences be damned. He’d explain things to his father tomorrow. Right now, he just wanted to leave and indulge himself in a different kind of flower.
P.S. I attached a quick sketch of how I think Anya had posed. :)