The night we planned the show and the girl wouldn’t leave [girlfriend’s perspective]

Leo and I had been together for almost a year. Sweet guy, clingy in the best way, but his coworker Mia had turned full-on stalker. She’d wait outside his gym with protein shakes, DM him “accidental” selfies at 2 a.m., even leave little notes on his windshield. Leo hated drama, but he also hated being rude. One night after a bottle of wine we joked: “What if we just… let her watch?” The joke stuck, and by Friday we’d turned it into an actual plan.

Leo texted Mia from my phone: “I know you’ve been wanting closure. Come over at 9. Wear headphones if you need to. No talking, just watch.” She replied in thirty seconds with a hundred heart emojis and “I’ll be quiet, promise.” I laughed so hard I snorted wine out my nose.

I set the scene. I lit three vanilla candles, turned off the overhead light, and angled the bedside lamp so the bed glowed like a stage. We dragged the single wooden chair from the hallway into the corner, close enough she’d see every detail, far enough she couldn’t touch. Leo set his phone on the dresser, camera app open just in case she wanted proof later. My stomach was doing cartwheels, equal parts nervous and wicked excited.

She knocks at 9:03, wearing oversized joggers and a hoodie, eyes huge behind her glasses. I open the door, motion her to the chair. She sits, hands folded in her lap like a school kid. No words. The room smells like candle wax and anticipation.

Leo pulls me to the bed, kisses me soft at first, almost tender while Mia’s gaze flicks between us and the floor. I tug his shirt off, run my nails down his back. He peels my dress over my head, leaving me in nothing but the lacy bra he loves. I hear Mia’s breath hitch.

Leo eases me onto my back, slides my panties off, and there’s no pretending anymore. He’s thick like Coke-can thick and I’m already wet from the adrenaline. He slips in slow, the stretch makes me gasp loud enough that Mia shifts in the chair. Leo sets a lazy rhythm, hips rolling, every stroke hitting that spot behind my hip bone that turns my brain to static.

I glance over. Mia’s hoodie sleeve is stuffed in her mouth, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy. She doesn’t look away once.

Leo flips me, pins my wrists, and goes harder. The headboard slams the wall; candles flicker. I moan his name, then moan it again just to watch Mia grip the chair arms. When Leo finishes inside me hot, pulsing, almost too much I collapse, chest heaving. He kisses my forehead like nothing happened, then looks at Mia. “You good?”

Mia nods, wipes her eyes, and whispers, “Can I stay?” Leo and I exchange a look half shocked, half amused. I nod. She curls up on the foot of the bed, hoodie over her head, quiet as a mouse.

Now it’s every other Friday. She brings snacks, sits in the same chair, and we give her the encore she never asked to leave. Sometimes she’s also masturbating while watching us…The setup has been always like that before.