A hand grips a sheet in a somewhat sexual way. Off to the side of the image, we can see a bit of the person gripping's hair.
Professional Rivals: Part 3
April 6, 2024
A group of women of various shapes, sizes, and ethnicities pose together in lingerie. They are the Les Vixens Burlesque Troupe.
Sapphic Burlesque: The Blossoming Nightlife Niche for Queer Women
April 6, 2024
Various adult toys are laid out on a white sheet. They include a mask, cuffs, and a tawse for whipping.

Note to readers: this story is part of Tagg After Dark, an erotica collection exclusively for readers 18+.

This is Part 2. If you missed part one, go back and read that first.



Nika, intrigued by our sudden stunned silence, stands to peer over, then covers her mouth. Her eyes dart to me, and I see the very edges of her eyes crease into the faint beginnings of crow’s feet.

My throat burns, and I break her gaze. “Yeah, enjoy the fucking show, Choudhry, ha-ha, very funny— Morris, put that down, good God!”

Red practically drops the strap on the bed and raises their hands as if caught pilfering from the faculty candy stash. “Sorry! Sorry, I— What even is that, Katz? Jesus—”

“It’s a thigh harness,” Nika informs them. When she pulls her hand away from her face, I can see the slight upward quirk of her thin, soft lips. I clench my fists and snatch up the black and red-edged leather. “Right, Katz?”

The o-ring glints in the low hotel room light, as if winking at her. “Why ask a question you apparently already know the answer to?” I toss back.

“I only ask questions I know the answer to.” Nika’s stare is unyielding, and her lingering smirk scorches my skin. I am struck, not for the first time, with the bone-deep knowledge that Nika is hot, and she knows it. In another context, I would find that confidence—and her—incredibly attractive. Unfortunately, I realize with growing dread that I also find it—and her—incredibly attractive in this context. 

I tear my eyes away from the ghost of her smirk to right my bag on the bed, realizing too late that Red is already stooping to retrieve my tawse.

“And what’s this?” they wonder, gingerly setting the four-tongued silicone toy onto the bed. Their wide-eyed curiosity would be a little endearing if we didn’t mutually despise each other.

“Huh. I’ve never seen one in person,” Nika mutters, leaning a little to inspect the textured handle.

I throw my hands up and sit on the bed, exasperated but unwilling to get all the way down to the ground now that the contents of my carry-on are known to God and everybody. “Cool, why not, let’s do a show-and-tell with Katz’s luggage! You wanna inspect the stitching on my cuffs while we’re at it?”

“Sure,” Nika shrugs, startling a choked-off laugh out of me. 

Meanwhile, Red sputters, “Your cuffs?

I nudge the leather cuffs on the floor with my socked foot, and Red retrieves them by the connector clip, as if touching the leather might burn them. Their lips part slightly as they stare at the leather curves of the cuffs. I lose the thread of the conversation for a moment, watching Red lick their lips. They might have terrible fucking takes, but I’ll never deny that they’re also that specific kind of “handsome in a pretty way” that I’ve always had trouble focusing around. Nika has to ask her question twice.

“Is that silicone?”

I reluctantly turn my gaze back to Nika, who meets my glare and raises an eyebrow. “Yeah. I don’t like taking my leather to play parties, it’s harder to sterilize.”

“Huh. You’re going to Whipped, too, then?”

I splutter, which is enough of an answer.

“Is it stingy, or thuddy?” Red’s question surprises me.

Somehow, that shocks me more than Nika namedropping the kink event I packed all this for. I turn my eyes back to Red, searching their face, and answer: “Uh. It’s both. The sting sneaks up on you.” 

Red drops the leather cuffs and eyes the tawse. They say nothing, but their gaze is fixed and steady, like they’re reading the object itself. No, their stare’s not just steady—it’s keen. Sharp. Hungry

The tension straining at my muscles is melting into something else, something hot and syrupy sweet like woodsmoke. The air, once thick with restrained hostility, is turning humid and wet with anticipation. (Or maybe I’m just projecting, I realize, shifting with the abrupt realization that I’m certainly wet.) 

“How hands-on are you willing to get with this show and tell, Katz?” Red asks, and I realize they’re staring at my hands. I swallow and glance at Nika, who’s watching Red with the same intensity I feel on my own face.

When she realizes she’s been caught staring, Nika straightens and gives me a shrug. “Oh, don’t stop on my account. This sounds way more fun than listening to Schuyler drone about semiotics over shitty hotel food.”


Curious to know if these colleagues follow through on adult show-and-tell? Return here on Sunday, April 21, for part 3! Sign up for our weekly newsletter to be reminded when the next installment drops, OR become a Tagg Supporter to access the entire story today.




Devon Illman
Devon Illman
Devon Illman (she/hyr) writes lesbian erotica that celebrates consent, kink, and the infinite possibilities of erotic expression. Hyr work often explores butch4butch and butch4femme dynamics, disability in sex and kink, and the many ways survivors navigate desire.