Bake Sale Bet

Chloe Surreal sat behind the cheap folding table with a scowl on her face and crumbs on her apron. The stupid cupcakes looked like they’d been run over by traffic. Her stepmom Serene Siren strolled up, saw the empty jar of cash, and raised one eyebrow. "Still nothing?" "Obviously," Chloe snapped. Serene leaned in. "Smile, baby. Customers can smell misery like week-old fish." "I’m not fake-selling frosting to creeps." "Fine," Serene said, quick and sharp. "Bet you this: I’ll get you a line in five minutes. If I do, you actually try for once. If I don’t, you can bail. Deal?" "Whatever." Serene disappeared under the white cloth without another word. Her warm tongue met wet heat. Chloe jerked, nearly knocking the metal chair over. She gripped the edge, ankles spreading wider as Serene’s mouth sucked and licked like she was starving. Chloe’s scowl cracked. A tiny, involuntary whimper slipped out. Footsteps. Voices. Three or four of them—maybe more—suddenly hovering over the table. Aria Carson, Emma Rosie, Maya Farrell, Nova Vixen. They didn’t know anything was happening below their elbows except that Chloe’s face had gone from thundercloud to hazy sunrise. The line snaked out into the hallway while Serene kept her slow, filthy rhythm between Chloe’s thighs. Every time Chloe moaned a little too loud, another twenty hit the cash jar. The girls kept buying because it smelled sweet, tasted hotter, and because Chloe finally looked hungry. Hours later the table stood bare. Serene crawled out flushed and smiling, wiping her chin on the back of her hand. She pulled Chloe close right there in the empty gym. "Proud of you, kid. Every last bite’s gone." Her hand slid under Chloe’s skirt again, two fingers already slick. "Now the real treat starts. My place. Naked. Celebrate like you mean it." Chloe didn’t argue. Not this time.