Cuckolding

We had two weeks before the competition started, and so the two weeks were spent correcting her habit of nitpicking and giving unwanted help. She was the one who insisted on it. Her eyes unsettled me when she talked about wanting to improve, as they gleamed beyond seriousness into the domain of obsession. Despite my foreboding sense of unease, which seemed to only worsen as the competition date drew near, I still wanted to support her. It felt right to.

“Don’t get me wrong. I like having sex. But do we have to do it so intensely? I’m not talking about the passionate kind of intense. It’s more… hangover-after-a-night-of-drinking kind of intense,” I asked softly after we woke up next to each other one morning.

“And how would you know what it feels like, when you are under the legal drinking age?”

“I didn’t say that I was drinking. And don’t deflect.”

She clutched the covers. “I want to be a good escort. I don’t have an excuse not to be.”

“What does that mean?”

“I have the best resources and connections handed to me.” Her head now faced entirely away from me, which was incredibly rude, but I was sure she knew that too.

I didn’t raise the issue anymore afterwards. Well, I never should have complained about getting laid. She was getting better at it too, and by that I meant in all aspects of it. Unsolicited criticism came less often, and the way her body pressed against mine was more controlled.

We coordinated our movements better, which might be something that would not carry over if we ever decided to have sex with other people. That hypothetical was something I wanted to throw to the back of my mind. I was content with what we had, and there was no need to think beyond that. Beyond the two of us.

It wasn’t as if she would have sex with anyone other than me.

“I really hope I’ll get to sleep with him,” Mamie said while pointing at the picture of the man she had to impress. As if she had just issued a challenge, I squinted my eyes at my own copy of the person’s profile, which had just been handed out by the studio staff. In my mind, a raging desire arose to pick apart every flaw of this surprisingly handsome man. I was expecting a stereotypical nerd-type character, but that might just be hentai warping my common sense.

“Is he really that hot?” I mumbled, but of course, Mamie caught it and threw an exasperated sigh back.

“What I meant was that I want to win. The winner will hook up with him, after all.”

“No one ever said that. The winner will only have a date with this ordinary-looking boy.”

“What’s next? You think Netmix and Chill is just watching Netmix and pouring ice over yourselves?”

“Listen, I know you are mocking me, but can we stop adding sexual connotations to everything?”

Mamie should focus on thinking up strategies and what character she would play, not arguing with me about semantics. There were only six hours left until the show’s start in the afternoon. Since the seduction target’s information had only just been distributed to the twenty contestants, every second of preparing and brainstorming counted.

And plus, the definition of a date never necessitates a hookup. It could happen, sure, but not a must.

“Oh? Are you jealous, Shuntaro-chan?” A rosy (and nosy) voice sang. Ayu-senpai rested her chin on her hand, bringing to mind a theatergoer settling into the best pose to watch a long show.

First of all, what happened to calling me ‘Kuronuma-kun’? Second of all, why was she in our room? Yes, a few of Mamie’s second-year friends (all female) were also here with us, aggressively scribbling notes in their seats, but from what I gathered, the college would usually invest all its best resources in the third-year candidate for this competition.

That meant Ayu-senpai, being the alleged brilliant mind who won the representative election last year, should not be helping one of the candidates for the upcoming election.

“Why are you here again?” I glared at her, because fresh in my mind was her awful recommendation of those bland croissants. Just know that I would remember grudges for a long time.

“The same reason as you.”

“If you want to help, go to the third-year’s room.”

“What? No. I meant I’m here to bask in the beauty of the women here. Same reason as you.” This cheesy line managed to stir up giggles from Mamie’s friends. Ayu-senpai took that as a cue to bow to them. Her fitted suit accentuated her curves, and it was miles more elegant than my cheap polo shirt, which I had randomly picked from the dresser after an anxious, sleepless night.

Mamie responded only with a smile, but I’d rather see a scowl. Her lips were smooth with no signs of twitching. That reminded me, that her defining frown had been appearing less, even during classes when I misunderstood a concept or two. Her improving image enabled the first-years, my classmates, to begin asking her for help. She had come a long way.

I glanced around the modest space given to us. The seats were occupied, but both the table and whiteboard were empty, waiting to be filled with props and ideas. No matter how I doubted Ayu-senpai’s motives, which I thought might range from boredom to jealousy, my priority would still be helping my dear friend (with benefits) get closer to winning the competition. “Fine, whatever you say. Let’s start discussing how Mamie here can seduce… um… convince this average person to choose her.”

“Oh? First-name basis? No honorifics?”

I dismissed Ayu-senpai as background noise and skimmed through the interview transcripts in my hands. The list of his preferences ranged from basketball to superhero movies to the music from the most famous bands. “Hm… I can’t see anything that makes him stand out. Wow, he really is such an NPC.”

“Except his parents are rich,” one of Mamie’s three friends noted. I should know her name, in theory, because Mamie had introduced everyone in this room to each other, but in my defense, that was over ten minutes ago.

“Thanks… um… you for pointing it out. But so what?” The silver spoon in his mouth might have given him a chance to experience twenty women fighting for his affection, but money can’t buy interesting character traits. I gathered that from watching the news, and this bland imitation of a man only confirmed this truth again.

“Rich means spoiled. Means that he expects everyone to serve him and hates any type of pushback.” Friend A just wouldn’t let this point go.

I shrugged. “You literally just described everyone in their 30s who lives with their parents.”

“It isn’t just about what is on the page, but the implications,” a surprisingly serious voice disrupted our debate. Surprising because it came from Ayu-senpai, her expression tightened as she read through the handouts. She had swapped into another person, the same one who greeted the Union representatives during their college visit.

“Are you just saying something pretentious?” I asked with a hint of aggression, as my frustration found a new target.

“Maybe I am. But consider this. The other nineteen contestants also got the same information as we did. What will happen if Toru-san… by the way, remember to pronounce his name correctly, Mamie-chan. Anyway, what will happen if Toru-san sees two women using a similar strategy? Will he choose the one who is wearing the mask better? Or neither, because it draws attention to how this is all an act?”

“All this still doesn’t change the fact that he is a boring excuse for a male.”

“Let me finish, Shuntaro-chan. I’m sure Mamie-chan says that a lot to you,” Ayu-senpai paused to glance at Mamie, who only gave her a standard smile, while I rolled my eyes. Not overstaying her welcome, Ayu-senpai continued, “Tough crowd. Fine. My point is that you shouldn’t look at the interview questions as separate. Think of the big picture. The answers might feel typical at first, but the combination of certain answers can give us a unique angle. We also have to consider Mamie-chan’s real personality and then factor in the preparation time for different strategies…”

She kept going on, while Mamie and her friends were listening with increasing concentration. I found that I just couldn’t care as much as I would like to. The idea of analyzing another man so that Mamie could appeal to him seemed more like cuckolding as time went on.

All I could think about was potential ways to cancel the competition without hurting Mamie’s chances in the election.