Not One For Love

No rest for the wicked

While she remained frustrated, Rachel's attention wavered away from the knocking against the door and focused on how she could still see the bulge in Quinn's trousers. It took most of her will to look away, and it was as if the prostitute knew what she wanted. She smirked and ran her fingers through her short, blonde hair, making it messier than it already was. "I'll call you. Later. Brittany gave me your number." Rachel managed to grit out.

Quinn nodded her head and grabbed her things. "I'll be waiting." She murmured, her body close to Rachel's so that she could feel her warmth. Perhaps it was the teasing and her oversensitive nerves, but Rachel felt weak and light-headed. Quinn traced her jaw with her fingertips, until they grazed the actress' bottom lip.

The person outside the door knocked again, louder this time. Quinn sighed in defeat and stepped aside so Rachel could admit them in, or see what they wanted. Outside on the front steps was Rachel's housekeeper, Delilah. She blinked and stared between Quinn and Rachel. "Did I interrupt anything?"

"No, of course not." Rachel huffed, and throwing a final glance at her, Quinn nodded and left the brownstone without another word. Rachel stepped aside and allowed Delilah in, her cleaning materials in a cart behind her. "I forgot you were coming today. I'm sorry."

"It's perfectly alright," the house cleaner assured her. "But where is Mr. Hudson?"

Rachel released a soft breath. "He's... out. I'll be in my office when you're done."

Without another word, Rachel retreated behind the oak door of her office. Not even Finn was allowed inside, and Rachel did the cleaning of her sanctuary herself. Along the walls were shelves of books—mostly biographies of famous people. On the lower shelf were Rachel's collection of movies and music. By the window was a small loveseat, a desk with her laptop on it, and pair of speakers. Opting for headphones at the moment, Rachel booted up her computer and eased into her comfortable desk chair and played some music in hopes to calm the ever-constant stirring in her gut.

Rachel immersed herself in the symphonic hymns, but they weren't affecting her like they used to. She blamed Quinn. Her blondeness, the firmness of her body against hers, and the texture of her skin. And that cock... The cock that she had yet to see. Rachel's toes curled at the thought, her palm mindlessly wandered down to her stomach, and eventually, to the hem of her skirt.

She gasped and jerked in her seat. She couldn't possibly think about masturbating. Not because it was lewd—she had her fair share of self-love for the past couple of months. But to be paying $900 for orgasms still seemed steep in pricing, and Rachel meant to milk Quinn for every last drop.

Groaning to herself, Rachel shut off her laptop and paced around the room. She needed to feel cool air and fresh wind—as fresh as one can get in New York City, at least. Rachel grabbed her purse which held her phone and her keys. She met Delilah who was in the middle of scouring the kitchen counter. After telling her that she would be out for a while, Rachel left her home and headed towards the direction of the park. Maybe there was a little league game that she could distract herself with, at least long enough until it was time to call Quinn again.

Rachel huffed and tightened her coat around her body. She trudged along the gravel path, sunglasses perched atop her nose, and made her way towards the baseball diamond, where sure enough, a baseball game was being held.

Delilah, with her steel wool in her gloved hands, looked up as soon as she heard the door slam right into its frame. She waited for a few moments, just standing still, waiting until everything seemed calm. That was when she yanked the rubber gloves off her hands and went upstairs. She gently pushed Rachel's bedroom door open and peered inside. Now that she was sure that she was entirely alone, Delilah walked in and rifled through Rachel's closet, her bathroom, and even beneath her bed.