"You Were Supposed to be Watching the Door" - A Story of Trish, Alison, and Kodi. (Patreon)

The blue glow of early morning crept under the curtains into Trish's darkened bedroom. It was nearly 8 AM, but the winter days and overcast weather made it feel earlier than it was, the streetlights outside still aglow with orange. Trish was sat dressed at her desk, ready for work, and already working away with her laptop open before her, a client's email up on screen, and on her phone to them over in Auckland to update them on her assignment.
"So I got your email with your notes for the new website," her words rolled off her tongue in her thick Irish accent, "Well actually I didn't. You didn't send the InDesign file back...you sent the InDesign program logo. Yeah, I...don't know how you did that."
There was a knock at the door before it cracked open, her housemate Alison poking her head around as Trish spun her chair to face her. "Can you take some photos for me in the yard before we go?" she asked quietly.
"Instagram or OnlyFans?" Trish mouthed back.
"Instagram."
"Gimme ten," Trish nodded, as Alison silent closed the door after her. Trish wrapped up the call and gathered her camera, heading for the backyard. Trish was slim, tall, fair skinned and lightly freckled, her brown hair styled in a messy cropped bob, and dressed in a loose fit green shirt and dark jeans. Casual wear for a designer or creative, she'd noted, after seeing at least a dozen others wearing similar at her studio. It was a stark contrast to Alison, taller, toned, olive skin, warm dark brown eyes and waves of natural, frizzy brown curls up off her shoulders in a high ponytail. Her body was shown off by the tight fitting workwear she'd chosen to model in front of the bougainvillea that morning, a sort of powder blue hue not unlike the cloudy sky above.
Trish set up her reflector boards just off to Alison’s side, and stood back to take the snaps, watching her friend act like a tit as she seductively posed and pouted with and without a suggestive water bottle in her hands. “That’s it, looking good,” Trish offered unenthusiastic encouragement as Alison contorted her spine to make her assets appear even more voluptuous than they already were, before straight up pulling her top down and setting her breasts free.  
“Maybe one or two for OnlyFans, yeah?” She grinned. Trish side-eyed her, as she continued to snap away.
"So is your OnlyFans actually running yet?" Trish asked as they headed out the front, down and out the front steps of their house.
"It's live, but no one is on there yet. I'm still building a collection, so i have something to fall back on posting if I don't have time for anything new." The two had pulled on hoodies for the morning's cold weather, and clambered into Trish's red Commodore parked out front.
"You'll want to get that started soon, that website might not be around forever."
"I'm still trying to decide, do I want to go all the way, or just stick to teasing?"
"Do whatever you feel comfortable with Alison, no one is forcing you to do anything."
"There's actually whole genres dedicated to that kind of thing, did you know?" Alison asked, gazing out the window as they drove through the city traffic to uni. "Like shoplifters being caught, or speeding drivers."
"I'm not entirely surprised," said Trish, keeping an eye on the time as they got stuck behind a truck at a red light. It wasn't far to university, might've only taken twenty minutes to walk, but carrying all her camera equipment, computer, tablet, and Alison in her gym pants that she'd changed into since the shoot but were no less tight than the blue ones before, would be a hassle. "But you've got your RGB and fairy lights, nice drapes for the background, and I saw that toy that came in that package last week, that's more than enough to get people pledging to you."
"It's a good start at least," Alison beamed back, as Trish shook her head.  
They made it to university by 8:26, 4 minutes to spare before class. Presentations for their arts performances, seemed a bit early in the day for it, but so long as they were out of there before 12, Trish wasn't too fussed. She was there to photograph the performers on stage, Alison would be performing in a little bit. Interpretive dance, a pure expression of spontaneous emotion, choreographed and rehearsed for weeks. There were no wrong answers in this class, but how they could grade it, Trish didn't know. She was a performer herself, but she hadn't been on stage since Dublin, and now it was 15 months later in Tamar.
She snapped her photos as the guys and gals danced about on stage. Some danced to music, some in silence, well not total silence, as the thumps of their heels on the stage echoed through the darkened auditorium. One or two tried their hands at monologues, one of disparate statements, the other some grand speech about glorious purpose as he twirled a broomstick about his hands.
It was interesting to see how others interpreted the brief, Trish was not judging, nor disliking being sat here, a few rows up in the dark, her camera shutter clacking away every few seconds.  The others in the auditorium, other than the lecturer, were not so interested in taking in what everyone else was doing. She knew the feeling, it was a big deal to go up on stage, even if in front of a dozen or so people. People become somewhat insular otherwise they get distracted, mentally beating themselves up comparing themselves to others. She was happy to see it, vicariously living through the performers.
Goodness, did they show a lot of skin. Some of their outfits made influencers look modest. "Not that I'm complaining, but it seems most women are just dressing to show off more than exercise," Trish said to Alison as she returned from the stage.
"What was that?" Alison asked, having genuinely not heard what Trish said in the comedown from the high of performing.
Trish turned to face her, eye level with Alison's stomach and tits, definitely the most revealingly dressed one there. "...Oh, nothing."
Alison sat, taking a sip from her water bottle, Trish's words having finally clicked into place. "Well speaking of showing off, what about her?" She gestured to the woman who entered on stage.  
Trish looked, her camera ready, and was somewhat taken aback. The lady on stage was dressed in purple gym pants and sports bra. She had a shapely hour glass figure, yet was still athletic, her face soft, her light brown hair back in a bun. It was a nice figure, yeah, she looked good, Trish thought so, but in each hand the lady held a mannequin arm. A whole shop mannequin arm, each a little chipped and battered, but she stood in the middle of the stage with her feet together, arms loosely by her sides, eyes closed and getting in the zone. After several seconds she opened her eyes and raised her arms above her, mannequin arms held high, and she declared. "...Ashley...Katchadourian...you were supposed to be watching the door."
Trish burst out laughing, falling back in her seat, as the bass dropped and the lady got en point and began to spin, each mannequin arm firmly in grasp as she broke into an energetic display. Alison had her phone out, her face similarly cracked into a smile at the unexpected meme, as Trish fumbled with the camera and tried to compose herself to take photos. She didn't know who this lady was, but Trish knew she already loved her.
The dance came to an end as the lady stood triumphant, the mannequin arms still in hand, "I'm Ben Affleck and I'm holding two girl's fucking arms...And YOU...are Cuba Gooding Jr....disappointing everybody."
Those in the auditorium couldn't help but get distracted from their thoughts as they all clapped the display that had transpired before them. Trish cheered loudly giving a standing ovation, to which the lady on stage, looking bashful, squinted through the lights and up at her in appreciation as she made her way off stage.  
"Very impressive indeed," called out the lecturer, "Well done especially, I don't think I got the reference but it definitely struck a nerve."
"Silly internet meme," the lady shrugged through a massive grin, her hands trembling from adrenaline as she set the mannequin arms down.
"I thought so. EVERYONE, take a break, and be back in ten minutes," the lecturer called again. Trish stumbled down the stairs, trying not to push past everyone as she excitedly made a beeline for the mannequin arm lady, herself feeling an excited tremble beginning to well up from inside. "Hey," she spoke breathlessly, as the lady turned to look at her, "I loved that performance, best laugh I had in days."
"I heard you, thank you, thank you," the lady blushed again, looking down at the floor. An American accent, Trish heard, "you've got fine taste."
"I-thanks," Trish laughed, "I'm Trisha-Trish."
"Like the video!"
"Almost yeah, what are the chances?"
"I'm Kodi," the mannequin lady smiled, "Sorry I needa...really go, I'll see you after."
"I'll be here," Trish grinned back. Her cheeks were hurting from all the smiling, she knew her gums must be showing, she was smiling that broadly, but she didn't care. She watched Kodi leave before heading back up to Alison, who sat with a smug grin. "What is it?"
"Nothing," Alison sat back and folded her arms, stifling a giggle.

****

Writing; sometimes it just comes to you, this one in the shower, so I wrote it down, and now I guess the story of the three OCs is away. I wanted to do this as a comic but I hit art block every time I tried. Writing is easier at least, and when you properly get into a character's head you can figure out where they're coming from, what they're thinking and feeling, and fill the gaps you had.

More? Any good? Let me know :)