Given Names

Note: All characters within this story are above 18 years of age. This is a fantasy story and is meant to be read as a fantasy.

Owen was already excited just waiting for the call to connect. Twice a day wasn’t enough anymore, not when he could still feel the ghost of Paige’s thighs clamped around his hips from last weekend, her soft ass bouncing against him while she rode him slow and mean on the couch. Business trips sucked, but the Austin one was only for six days, she’d said. An important pitch, big client, the kind of thing that could mean a fat bonus and a week off after. He understood. Didn’t mean he had to like it.

The phone rang for a few seconds. Then her face filled the screen.

Paige’s red hair was pulled back into a sleek, high ponytail that made her freckled neck look more exposed. The crisp white button-down she wore was tucked neatly into her black pencil skirt, top two buttons undone just enough to show the edge of her black lace bra when she leaned forward. The shirt clung to her tits in that perfect way, stretched tight across the swell, the faint outline of her bra visible slightly. She looked flawless, glowing, like she’d stepped out of a fashion magazine.

Her green eyes lit up the second she saw him staring. A big, unguarded smile. The kind that still made his chest tighten after three years.

“Hey boo,” she said, voice bright but a little breathless. She was walking fast, phone held at chest height, background blurring with people and storefronts. “Sorry I’m out and about right now. I swore I’d be settled in the hotel by call time, but things are insane here. Already late for the next meeting and no fucking Uber in sight.”

Owen grinned back, leaning closer to the screen. “That sucks. I’m just glad I get to see my girl. You look… fuck, Paige. You look incredible.”

“You’re too sweet, Owen Maddox.” She laughed, soft and teasing, the way she did when she knew exactly what he was thinking. “I wish–OWW!”

Her whole body jerked. The camera dipped as she stumbled half a step.

From the low angle he could still see her face, eyes narrowed, lips pulled back in instant fury. “Watch where you’re going, asshole,” she snapped.

A young male voice cut in, snarky and rude. “Well, sweet tits, maybe you shouldn’t be glued to your phone on a packed sidewalk.”

Owen’s grip tightened on his own phone. Paige’s expression went from annoyed to outright furious. She lowered the device but didn’t hang up, still in frame, just angled down now so he could see her chest rising fast, tits straining the buttons with every angry breath.

“What did you just call me?” she hissed. “Ma’am…is this your son? Are you okay with him talking to women like–”

The guy laughed, “Hahaha, son? She’s not my mom, you dumb bitch. She’s just my wallet.” He paused, then in a lower, almost thoughtful tone, he spoke again “You’re pretty hot, though. I guess we could find you a role too.”

Owen’s heart slammed against his ribs. He could see Paige’s free hand ball into a fist at her side. She lifted the phone again, bringing her face back into sharp focus, cheeks flushed, eyes blazing.

“Babe,” she said quickly, voice tight, “I’ll call you back. This weird guy is openly groping some woman’s breasts right here in the open. I gotta call the–”

A pale hand darted into frame from the left.

Fast and deliberate.

Something small and clear pressed against the left side of Paige’s forehead, just above her eyebrow. Owen squinted, trying to make it out. Tape. Thin, almost invisible, but there were dark letters written on it in marker. He couldn’t read them. Too small, too quick, camera shaking as Paige flinched.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Her voice cracked high with shock. “How dare you–”

The words died mid-sentence.

Her eyes, those sharp, fierce green eyes, suddenly went glassy. Pupils blown wide, then unfocused. The fire in them snuffed out like someone flipped a switch. Her mouth stayed half-open, lips still parted on the unfinished curse.

The phone slipped from her fingers.

It hit the pavement. The clatter was loud in Owen’s earbuds. The camera stayed on, tilted sideways now, showing the dirty sidewalk, a pair of scuffed sneakers stepping into frame, then Paige’s black heels, frozen in place.

“Good,” the kid’s voice said, calm now, almost gentle. “That’s much better. Now, ‘bag carrier’, pick up these shopping bags. We’re heading back home.”