Thirty-Four Hours

South Philly, Wawa, Late Evening

Riley had stopped in for a Wawa hoagie and maybe an iced coffee, something to keep him moving. But the second he stepped inside, he forgot all about hunger because--there she was.

Alison.

She was standing by the cold drinks, scanning the wall of choices like she was making a life-or-death decision. Loose jeans, slightly too big on her frame, a hoodie that looked like she stole it from someone who smelled like expensive cologne. Red hair piled up like storm clouds at sunset.

And the freckles.

Always the freckles.

He shouldn't. He really, really shouldn't. Too risky. But she was right there. And he was feeling himself just enough to be a little reckless.

So, he walked up beside her, reached for a bottle of iced tea, and turned slightly--just enough to catch her attention.

"Excuse me, but I think you dropped something."

Alison blinked, looking at him in confusion. "What?"

Riley grinned. Got her.

"Your standards. Hi, I'm Riley."

There was a beat of silence. Then--laughter. Full-body, shaking-shoulders, actually-amused laughter.

"Holy shit, that was awful," Alison said, but she was grinning.

"Awful, but effective."

"Try again, smooth guy."

Riley didn't hesitate. Leaned in slightly, lowered his voice like he was about to let her in on something real serious.

"Are you French?"

Alison rolled her eyes, but she played along. "Do I look French?"

"Nah. But Eiffel for you."

She groaned. Actually tilted her head back, groaned. But there was a little pink creeping up her neck.

"Oh my god, you're relentless."

"Like a Wawa cashier when you forget to scan your rewards card."

Alison bit her lip, hiding a smile. And Riley knew.

He had her.

"You gonna let me get your number, or do I need to pull out the 'Are you from Tennessee?' line?"

Alison snorted. "Jesus, spare me." But she pulled out her phone, shaking her head. "Fine. But if you send me anything stupid, I'll block you."

"Define stupid."

"Any GIF of a minion."

"Damn. There goes my whole personality."

She laughed--actually laughed. And it felt like winning.

He typed in her number, saving it as Alison Wawa Cutie.

She glanced at his screen, snorted again. "You're ridiculous."

"And yet, here we are."

She shook her head, smirking, and pocketed her phone.

And then--just like that--she was gone.

Riley stood there for a second, heart hammering.

Because Alison had no idea. The

Riley was still standing there, staring at his phone like he'd just pulled off the heist of the century, when a voice cut through the moment--sharp, deadpan, unimpressed.

"You guys gonna pay, or fuck right here in my Wawa?"

He jerked his head up.

Gianna.

Arms crossed, standing behind the register with the kind of bored exhaustion only a Wawa employee could achieve. Her curly dark hair was barely held back in a messy bun, and her expression screamed I've seen worse, but this is still stupid.

Alison wheeled around.

"What the--Gianna, shut the fuck up!"

Gianna didn't even blink. "Nah. I just wanna know if I should grab a mop first."

Alison looked mortified. Riley? He was grinning.

"Hey, if it helps, I like to wine and dine before I disappoint a woman," he said, holding up his untouched Wawa hoagie.

Gianna snorted. Alison, still red as hell, turned back toward the fridge like she could will herself out of existence.

"I fuckin' hate you both," she muttered.

Gianna, completely unfazed, just rang up a pack of gum and slid it toward Riley.

"Here," she said. "On the house. You're gonna need it for all that smooth talking."

Alison grabbed a Red Bull and didn't look at either of them. Riley paid for his hoagie.

And as they walked out together, Alison finally met his eyes again.

"I am never gonna live that down."

"Nah," Riley agreed. "But hey--at least now we gotta go on a date just to piss her off."

She shook her head, grinning.

Hooked.

Alison was leaning against the brick wall, scrolling her phone, waiting.

Her red hair was messy but intentional, piled up high with just enough loose strands to look like she didn't care--except, of course, she did. A short skirt over black leggings, lace-up boots that hit mid-calf, and a snug, long-sleeved top that clung just right to her lean, modest frame. She looked effortlessly put together, the kind of casual hot that took actual effort.

And then--heels on pavement.

She glanced up--expecting Riley.

Instead, she saw someone else.

A girl.

Striking.

Dark hair up, curled and artful, glossy in the streetlights. A short black jacket over a black blouse, just loose enough to be intentional, tucked into a dangerously short skirt. Long, stocking-clad legs. And--this girl was flat-chested, but it worked on her. Black lips and nails, perfect upswept wings on her eyeliner.

She was sleek, sharp, perfect.

Alison blinked.

Once.

Twice.

And then it hit her.

"Oh, holy shit."

The girl--no, Rilee--grinned.

"Took you long enough."

Alison stared, still processing.

"You--" She gestured, up and down. "You look... fucking incredible?"

Rilee did a little twirl, a playful spin that let the hem of the skirt lift just enough.

"Good answer."

Alison made a sound. A noise. A helpless, disbelieving laugh.

"I was standing here thinking, 'Damn, who's this random hot girl walking up to me?' And then--fuck, Riley?!"

"Rilee," came the correction, smooth as silk.

Alison just kept staring.

Not bad staring. Not what the fuck is this? staring. Just--taking it in.

And then--she smirked.

"Alright, well, you're fucking stunning. That's not up for debate. But you're also late."

"Oh, come on," Rilee teased, flipping a hand through those curls. "You gonna hold that against me when I showed up like this?"

Alison bit her lip.

"I might. You gonna make it up to me?"

That little thrill of challenge. Rilee felt it.

She leaned in, close enough to tease, voice dropping just slightly.

"Depends. You still planning on taking me home after dinner?"

Alison's breath caught.

Not for long. Just a second. Just enough.

Then, she laughed--full-bodied, delighted.

"You know what? Yeah, I am."

And just like that--it was happening.

Dinner was good.

Like, actually good.

Not just the food--though, yeah, the food was great. Spicy, rich, the kind of meal that made you want to sit back in your chair and savor every bite. But more than that--it was the company. In the background, Elvis Costello was crooning.

Rilee and Alison had hit a rhythm.

It started with customer horror stories.

"I once had a guy call tech support because his keyboard wasn't working," Rilee was saying between bites of drunken noodles. "Turns out, he had literally just unplugged it. Didn't even notice. Blamed me for 'not fixing it fast enough.'"

Alison laughed, full and bright.

"Oh my god, you have no idea. People are fucking wild. I had a client tell me he 'doesn't believe in knots.'"

Rilee snorted. "Like, physically?"

"Yeah! Like, he straight-up said, 'I don't believe in knots, they're a scam made up by massage therapists to sell extra sessions.' Meanwhile, I'm digging into his shoulders, and he sounds like a damn bag of Rice Krispies--snap, crackle, pop."

They lost it.

That open, no-holding-back kind of laughter.

And it was easy.

Rilee wasn't waiting for a weird reaction. Wasn't bracing for something to go wrong.

Alison was leaning in. Engaged, interested.

And she wasn't just talking about herself, either--she was asking about Rilee. Genuinely curious.

"So, tech support. Do you like it?"

Rilee tilted her head, considering.

"Eh. It's a job. But, like, the stories make it worth it. You learn a lot about the world when you spend eight hours a day listening to people try to Google things."

Alison smirked. "That sounds like hell."

"Oh, it absolutely is. But it pays the bills."

"It pays for the heels."

Rilee grinned. "You like?"

Alison let her gaze drop, trailing down. Slowly.

"I like."

And just like that--that little spark of something bigger.

A good date. A really good date.

And for the first time in a long time, Rilee felt genuinely optimistic about where the night was headed.

The plates were mostly empty, the last of the wine sitting untouched between them.

The conversation had shifted--less about work, less about annoying customers and bad tips and tech disasters--and more about them.

What this was.

Rilee leaned forward, fingers grazing the stem of her glass, watching Alison with something that was equal parts playful and serious.

"So," she said, slow, deliberate. "Where is this headed?"

Alison didn't hesitate.

"I was gonna ask you the same thing."

Rilee tilted her head, a little smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth.

"I think we need to get together again."

Alison exhaled a laugh, shaking her head. "Yeah, no shit. But... we don't have to wait."

She was watching Rilee now. Intent, like she was waiting for something.

An answer. A reaction.

But for the first time all night, Rilee hesitated.

It wasn't obvious. Not right away. But Alison could see it--the way Rilee's fingers twitched slightly, the way her gaze flickered to the table, then back up.

Like she was weighing something.

Before Alison could call her on it, though--

"Hey, loves?"

They both looked up.

Ramona, their waitress, stood beside the table, balancing an empty tray on one hip, a polite but pointed smile on her face.

"Hate to rush you," she said, but didn't sound like she hated it at all. "Think I can free this table up soon?"

Rilee and Alison exchanged a glance.

Alison took the opening immediately.

"We'd better split," she said, standing up fast.

Rilee hesitated for half a beat longer.

Then--finally, finally--she moved.

Alison pulling Rilee toward the door.

She didn't want the night to end.

And if Rilee was hesitating--

She'd just have to convince her.

It was a quiet little space, half-lit by a flickering streetlamp, tucked away just off the main drag of South Street. A place for stolen moments.

Carrie Delvecchio had once French-kissed a mime against this very wall.

Not that Rilee knew that.

But if she had, she'd probably feel even more ridiculous standing here, half-pinned by Alison, her back to the brick, fidgeting.

Because Alison wanted her.

That much was obvious.

The way her hands had been on Rilee all night--small touches, lingering fingers, a slow, deliberate claim. And now? Now they were alone. And Rilee wasn't moving.

Eager? Yeah.

But also--reticent.

And Alison felt it.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, curious.

"What's up with you?" she murmured, leaning in, her fingers brushing Rilee's waist. "You've been all smooth confidence all night, and now you look like you're about to make a run for it."

Rilee opened her mouth--hesitated.

That was all the answer Alison needed.

Slowly, deliberately, her hand trailed down.

Slid over Rilee's hip.

Paused.

Then--just a little lower.

Oh.

She felt it.

Not what she expected.

Alison froze.

Then--her eyes went wide.

And then--the laughter hit.

Hard.

Full-body, shaking, gasping, barely-standing laughter.

"Oh my God--" she wheezed, hand still resting there, still confirming what she was feeling. "Holy shit--this is--oh my God, you're--"

Rilee's face was burning.

"Yeah, yeah, get it out of your system," she muttered, arms crossed, cheeks pink as hell.

Alison leaned into the wall, still wheezing.

"I just--" she had to stop to breathe, tears in her eyes. "I've heard about these things! But I've never--Jesus Christ, Rilee! Just--just how long--"

"Are you done?"

"No, no, I need a second--"

More laughter. A deep inhale.

Finally, she managed to compose herself.

Barely.

Then she tilted her head, still grinning.

"Alright. So... do you have the key? Or is that at home?"

Rilee's mouth twitched.

Paused.

Then--finally--she smirked.

"Guess you'll have to find out."

Alison had finally stopped laughing, though there was still a gleam in her eye, the occasional twitch of her lips like she wasn't quite done. Her fingers, still resting on the cage, tapped it lightly, almost idly--like she was getting used to the idea.

"Alright," she murmured, voice still warm with amusement. "So. You got the key on you, or...?"

Rilee licked her lips, watching her.

Then--grinning, slow and sharp.

"There is no key."

Alison blinked.

"What?"

"It's timed."

She felt the way Alison's breath caught--not a big thing, just a little pause, a flicker of intrigue.

"Like... digital?"

"Mmhmm." Rilee tilted her head, deliberately smug now, leaning in a little. "Fully automated. No key, no manual release. It stays locked until the timer runs out."

Alison just stared at her for a second. Processing.

And then--she smirked.

"That's kind of hot."

Rilee arched a brow. "You think so?"

"Yeah. I mean--" Alison's fingers tightened, just slightly. "You're out here, in a short skirt, all dolled up, looking like sin itself, and meanwhile? Nothing. Just locked up. No control. Nothing you can do about it."

Rilee swallowed.

Because, fuck.

Alison was getting it.

Her fingers traced slow, lazy circles over the fabric, eyes dark with newfound interest.

"So how long?" she asked, voice dropping slightly. "How long you got?"

Rilee grinned again, this time a little breathless.

"Guess you'll have to stick around to find out."

Rilee fumbled for her phone, pulling it from the pocket of her jacket with hands that weren't quite steady.

Alison just watched.

Not rushing her. Not teasing anymore. Just watching.

Because she was hooked now.

And when Rilee turned the screen toward her--

34 hours.

Alison's eyebrows shot up.

"Oh, shit."

A long pause.

Then--she bit her lip, grinning slow.

"That's... that's a long time, babe."

Rilee exhaled sharply, glancing away. Eager but embarrassed.

Alison tilted her head, eyes flicking between Rilee's face and the phone.

"And you're just... walking around like this? Just... locked up for the next day and a half?"

Rilee swallowed. Nodded.

Alison laughed again--not cruel, not mocking, just pure, delighted fascination.

"Jesus. You really don't do things halfway, do you?"

Rilee smirked.

"Not my style."

Alison's fingers trailed down again, slow, thoughtful.

"Well then," she murmured. "I guess that means we've got some time to get creative."

The door barely shut behind them before Alison yanked Rilee forward.

"Roommates," she muttered in warning, voice low and urgent.

Rilee barely had time to register the two people on the couch, half-watching TV, half-scrolling their phones. A guy with glasses and a band tee, a girl in sweatpants and a hoodie--both utterly disinterested in their arrival.

Good.

Alison didn't slow down.

"Hey," the guy mumbled, glancing up.

"Hey," Alison tossed back, already halfway down the hall.

"Nice skirt," the girl in the hoodie called after them, grinning.

Alison just flipped her off without turning around.

And then--her bedroom door swung shut.

The lock clicked.

And they were alone.

The door clicked shut behind them, and Alison was beaming.

This was gonna be fun.

She kicked off her boots, stretching her arms overhead with a slow, satisfied hum before turning to face Rilee, still grinning.

"So..." she teased, crossing the room with a deliberate sway. "You can't get out for... let's see--thirty-three hours, forty-four minutes, and... some number of seconds?"

Her eyes danced with mischief as she said it.

Rilee, leaning back against the closed door, smirking, nodded.

"Yeah."

Alison laughed.

"Oh my God."

Rilee shrugged, lifting a hand in mock innocence. "I was trying to keep myself honest. Get to know you a bit before hopping into bed."

That stopped Alison cold.

Not in a bad way. Not even in a confused way.

Just--what?

She stared.

"You're serious."

Rilee tilted her head, grinning. "I mean, yeah? Figured it might be nice to do things differently. See if there was more here than just--"

She gestured vaguely toward the bed.

Alison couldn't believe it.

This incredibly hot, crossdressing, smooth-talking little minx of a human being... was actually being nice? Like, ridiculously nice?

This... hadn't considered her plans.

She bit her lip, eyes flicking down, then back up.

"So, let me get this straight," she murmured. "You set a timer so you wouldn't sleep with me too fast?"

Rilee nodded, entirely unashamed.

Alison let out a disbelieving little laugh.

"Babe."

She stepped closer, hands sliding up Rilee's arms, fingers tracing the soft fabric of her jacket.

"You know that just makes me wanna wreck you harder, right?"

Rilee's breath caught.

And Alison?

She was really looking forward to the next thirty-three hours.

The laughter melted into something quieter, heavier.

Rilee barely had time to breathe before Alison was on her--pressing close, fingers threading into dark curls, lips catching, teasing, deepening.

Heat spiked.

A slow, deliberate kiss turned urgent, bodies shifting, hands grasping.

Rilee gasped against Alison's mouth as hands slid under skirts, fingertips grazing thighs, squeezing, exploring.

Alison's nails dug in, enough to tease, to claim.

"You feel fucking amazing," Rilee murmured, voice thicker, lower now, lips brushing along Alison's jaw, trailing heat down to her neck.

Alison shuddered--fuck, she loved that voice.

Throbbing. Breath catching. A tension tightening between them.

Then--suddenly--

Alison sat up. Abrupt. Decisive.

Rilee blinked, a little dazed, lips kiss-swollen, hands still halfway under Alison's skirt.

Alison grinned--slow, wicked.

And then--panties off. Just like that.

She tossed them aside, completely unbothered.

And then, spreading herself open just enough, she leaned back against the pillows, watching Rilee.

"Get to know this a bit, young lady."

Rilee's breath was unsteady.

And then--she grinned.

"Yes, ma'am."

Rilee didn't hesitate.

She slid down, dark curls falling loose around her face, hands trailing over Alison's thighs, feeling the way she shivered under her touch.

And then--there she was.

Alison was a redhead through and through, the same wild mess between her legs as on her head, thick and soft and natural.

Rilee's lips parted.

"Goddamn."

Alison laughed, breathless. "Yeah? You like?"

Rilee didn't even answer.

She just leaned in and got to work.

Alison sucked in a breath.

"Fuck, okay--"

Her hand found Rilee's hair, fingers tangling, watching, watching.

Because--fuck.

Rilee's pretty, painted mouth, smudged lipstick, those dark, made-up eyes glancing up through lashes--all between her legs.

The contrast of it--sharp, delicate, filthy.

Alison moaned, letting her legs fall wider, breath catching.

"Yeah, babe, just like that--fuck, you're good at this."

Rilee just smirked against her, pressing in deeper, tasting, teasing, taking her time.

Alison was gasping now, hips shifting, lifting, her grip tightening in Rilee's hair, urging her on.

And Rilee?

She was completely, utterly hooked.

The room was dim, the glow from the streetlamp outside painting soft gold over tangled limbs, lingerie straps slipping off shoulders, smeared lipstick and mascara.

Alison was still catching her breath, her body boneless, sated, one leg thrown lazily over Rilee's hip.

Rilee, shaved smooth, still locked, was grinning through the ache.

"This is gonna be a long thirty-something hours," she murmured, half a groan, half amusement.

Alison just huffed out a laugh, shifting, rolling closer until she was right there, her fingers trailing over Rilee's still-clothed chest, down her stomach, teasing the waistband of her panties.