The morning shimmered with camera crews and sleepy smiles. We were ushered into a circle and asked to pick folded notes from a glass bowl—our names hidden inside, destinies tucked into crinkled paper.
I unfolded mine slowly.
Zi Yang.
Across the group, Michelle's lashes lifted—expression unreadable—as she revealed Zack with a nonchalant shrug. Aaron paired with Jessica. Zi Qian with Zi Qing.
The producers smiled. "You'll be heading out in pairs: two sets for theme park dates, and two for an outdoor picnic. We hope sparks fly."
🚗 Car Ride – Tired Bones, Tension Beneath
Zi Yang drove. I sat beside him, windows cracked, sunlight tumbling across my lap. My body was sore in ways I hadn't earned in public. Muscles stretched from memory, lips still tingled.
Michelle was behind us in Zack's car.
I could feel her through the rearview mirror.
She texted once:
"Don't forget water. It's hot today."
Then again:
"Your hair looks soft in sunlight."
I turned slightly. Through tinted glass, she lifted her sunglasses and winked—barely a flicker—but enough to send heat up my spine.
Zi Yang chatted politely about music and travel. His voice was smooth, warm—but it felt like a background hum compared to the quiet vibration of Michelle's presence. My thighs ached from friction I didn't dare recall. My breath came shallow. I smiled at his stories but didn't register their endings.
🧺 Picnic Unfolds
The grass was thick with sun. We found a clearing surrounded by trees, the air sharp with summer.
Zack laid out a thick gingham mat while Michelle unpacked food—fruit containers, sparkling water, potato salad in glass jars.
She sat close beside me again. Always close.
Our knees touched. Her hand brushed mine once, twice, as she reached for berries. She didn't speak much. Just smiled with her lips closed, eyes half-lidded, gaze sliding sideways like she knew I was still sore. Like she knew she was the reason.
Zi Yang was cheerful, joking with Zack. Michelle handed me a drink, her fingers grazing my wrist longer than necessary.
Zack, oblivious, offered Michelle a bite of watermelon. She took it, her lips brushing against his fingers as she leaned in. She chewed slowly, deliberately. Her gaze, though, wasn't on him.
It drifted—lazily, provocatively—to me.
Her tongue brushed the juice from her lower lip. Not messy. Not playful. Just… intimate. Like she was erasing something only I had the right to leave there.
I caught my breath. Shifted on the mat. The heat of the afternoon suddenly felt heavier than the sun could justify.
Then she leaned close, her voice soft and tinged with invitation.
"Come." "We need wood for the fire."
🌲 Into the Woods – Desire, Rooted Deep
I glanced at Zack, who was playfully tossing a frisbee with Zi Yang. No one noticed as I slipped away into the trees, Michelle leading, her steps light and knowing.
The woods welcomed us with shadow and hush. Birdsong above. Dappled light on bark. My footsteps softened in moss.
She didn't speak. Just walked ahead. Her fingers skimmed branches. Her hips swayed in those snug shorts, hem just teasing the curve of her ass.
I inhaled sharply. The scent of sun-warmed leaves. Earth. Her perfume—faint, musky, unmistakable.
She stopped in a clearing overgrown with ferns.
Turned.
Waited.
Her eyes were glassy with hunger. Quiet. Familiar.
"You feel it too?" she asked.
I nodded.
She stepped closer. Her hands framed my face—gentle, reverent—and then her lips were on mine.
Not rushed. Not desperate.
Just… slow devastation.
Her tongue teased mine with memory. Her body fitted against mine, like it had known the shape forever. She kissed me until I forgot my name, until my fingers clawed at her shirt, needing heat, needing her.
She pressed me to a tree. The bark rough on my back. Her thigh slid between mine, urging me open. Her mouth traveled—jaw, neck, collarbone. Each kiss a small fire.
"You taste better than strawberries," she whispered, biting my skin softly.
I gasped, thighs trembling.
Her hands reached beneath my shirt, palms hot, fingers mapping ribs and curve. She tugged it up, kissed my belly. Her mouth dipped, licked, sucked at my nipple until I moaned—unfiltered, wild.
She knelt in front of me.
Not shy.
Her fingers hooked into my shorts, tugging them down. Her breath warm against my thigh. Her tongue traced upward—slow, deliberate, patient.
When she found me slick, aching, open—she smiled.
"You're perfect like this," she murmured. "Soft. Needy. Mine."
Then her mouth buried into me.
I clutched the tree. My legs shook. She sucked, licked, teased every edge of me. Her tongue circled my clit with maddening rhythm, stopping just enough to make me whimper, then plunging deeper.
I cried out when her fingers joined in—sliding inside, curling upward, pulling something undone.
She didn't stop until I shattered.
Until my body convulsed, hips bucking, mouth open in a sob.
She rose then, kissed me again—mouth tasting of moss and me.
I collapsed against her, body limp, heart frantic.
"You ruin me," I whispered.
Michelle chuckled, breathless, her fingers still wet from me.
"No, baby. You ruin yourself just fine when I watch you fall apart."
I slumped into her arms, breath ragged, legs trembling. The bark pressed into my back, grounding me in reality again.
Michelle didn't speak. Just let me lean against her, her fingers tracing lazy circles across my spine.
Then gently, she knelt once more—this time not to undo, but to restore.
Her hands moved with care, pulling my underwear back up with a touch that lingered too long at the crease of my thighs. She smoothed my shorts into place, brushing away specks of moss and stray leaves. Her thumbs ran along the hemline, anchoring me back in fabric.
My shirt was bunched beneath my bra. She tugged it down slowly, trailing her fingers along my belly as she did.
"There," she whispered, adjusting the neckline, smoothing the wrinkles. "Almost like nothing happened."
I glanced at her. Her lips were swollen from kissing, eyes heavy with satisfaction.
"But something did," I murmured.
She leaned in, her nose brushing mine.
"And you wear it."
Then she slid her thumb across my jaw—like sealing me in memory—and pressed a final kiss to the corner of my mouth.