by T Gephart
“No offence but I’d rather wear it,” I slid the condom down my shaft as I watched her deflate slightly. “I haven’t had a check up in awhile.” I lied knowing full well that I had been given a full bill of health but not want to offend her by insisting I wear protection.
“Oh, Ok,” Marcy mumbled as her hands drew in my face as she kissed me deeply, her tongue probing the inside of my mouth. She wrapped her legs around me, impatiently trying to push me inside. Little moans and grunts escaped her lips as she kissed me. “Give it to me Alex, please… I need it,” she begged as I teased my length at her opening. She was primed, ready to explode.
I slowly slid inside of her, giving her what she desperately wanted. Her whole body tightened at the invasion as I rocked my hips up against her. I closed my eyes, needing to connect with my fantasy again. Lexi, only Lexi.
“Oh. My. God.” Marcy grunted as I filled her deeper, I could feel she was close and I was well on my way. I manoeuvred her up against the wall, giving me better leverage as I continued to pump hard and fast into her.
Marcy screamed, milking my cock as she came hard but I couldn’t stop, I wasn’t there yet. I worked her harder and faster, my eyes clamped shut as I pictured Lexi, her beautiful melodic tone coaxing me, “Come for me baby, I need to feel you come.”
“FUCK,” I moaned as I pumped one last time, coming hard and filled the condom with my load. My body shook from the release and slowly the image of Lexi slid away.
“Wow Alex, that was amazing.” Marcy smiled as I pulled out of her and yanked off the condom. “You are incredible, you know exactly how to make a girl feel good,” she continued while I tried to clean myself up and adjust my pants. I was glad she was feeling good, because despite coming twice tonight I still felt empty. I really was a complete dick!
“So…” Marcy bent and slid her panties back up onto her hips, “how about that drink now?” She adjusted her skirt back into position.
“Yeah, sure.” I zipped up as I moved closer to her, pulling her away from the wall.
“Oh!” she gasped as I grabbed her ass and held her against me.
“Let’s go,” I whispered into her ear as I lead her back to the door. I pulled out my phone and sent Dan a text message.
- Fire exit, right hand side.
“Are we locked out?” Marcy giggled nervously as I waited by the door.
“Yep, but not for long.” I focused on the door in front of us and the thumping bass just beyond it.
The door swung open with a crack. “Woah A-Man! ” Dan’s smug smile greeted us, “Kicking it old school.” He nodded in approval.
Marcy blushed as Dan gave her his usual once over, which incidentally meant a long pause at the area between her face and her belly button. His smile widened as he enjoyed the view. “And who is this?” He asked, his arm leaning against the door, holding it open.
“This is Marcy and I’m not in the mood.” I knew Dan would want to ride me; sneaking off into the fire exit wasn’t my usual style, and I knew he got a hard on every time he had an opportunity to piss me off. I pushed past him, directing Marcy through the door; Dan’s eyes dropped to Marcy’s ass as she strutted passed him.
“Relax brother, just makin’ an observation. She’s hot. Nice rack. Let me know if she needs a real man to satisfy her.” Dan raised his eyebrows as his smug grin returned.
I didn’t bother with a reply, knowing it would only incite him further. Fucking Dan. Marcy stood patiently on the other side of the door, swaying with the rhythm of the music.
“Stone!” Troy shouted from across the room. I spotted his Mohawk through the crowd, a massive smile plastered across his face as he and Jase came to where the three of us where standing.
Marcy glared at the uninvited gathering, she didn’t seem cool with sharing my attention with the boys. I should have cared that she seemed annoyed but I didn’t.
“Jesus! I thought TJ was yanking my chain when we told us you came here with numb-nuts!” Troy laughed, “I didn’t realize you were that hard up for company!”
“Fuck you man!” Dan smirked used to Troy’s term of affection, “I needed him to play wing-man but it ended up FUBAR. Talent’s good here tonight though if you’re after a bit of tail.” Dan smiled at Marcy, giving her a wink.
“Hey!” She huffed indignantly, “I’m not a groupie!”
Jason stifled a laugh as he punched Dan in the arm, “Nice one ass-wipe.” Jase then turned to Marcy offering his hand, “Don’t take any notice of him. He was dropped at birth. I’m Jason.”
Marcy smiled glad to be back in the spotlight, “I’m Marcy. I’m a friend of Alex’s.” I felt her moving closer to my side. Not sure exactly when we became “friends” but I guess when you put your dick in someone it escalates the process.
“Well nice to meet you, this is Troy.” Jase pointed to Troy who tipped his chin in greeting. “You think you could give us a minute, Marcy. We need to chat with our boy.” Jase was playing diplomat while Troy grabbed Dan in a headlock.
“Sure…umm Alex, why don’t I just call you tomorrow?” Marcy licked her lips not willing to stand around and be decorative while we had our “meeting.”
“I haven’t given you my number,” I grinned as Marcy slung her arms around my neck.
“I’ll get it from your PR firm. Just tell Sydney not be such a bitch and actually hand it over this time. You’re difficult man to get a hold of.” She smirked before pushing her tits into me and kissing me hard.
“Bye Alex,” Marcy waved before being enveloped into the crowd.
Hmmmm. She knew our PR team? Interesting. I would have to shoot Sydney an email and give her the ok to release my digits. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed it wouldn’t be Lexi who would be handling that request. And we’re back, back to Lexi. I am so utterly fucked.
“So was she any good?” Dan asked, still fending off Troy.
“Better than you’ll ever have I’m sure,” I muttered with a half snort.
“Yeah, whatever man, those girls are a dime a dozen!” Dan dismissed me before facing Troy and Jase, “Watcha doing here anyway? You ladies looking to show us your moves on the dance floor?”
Troy rolled his eyes, “Yeah, that’s why we came. Me and Jase had a hankering to drink over priced spirits and watch you pass off convulsions as dance moves.”
“Fuck you man, the ladies love it,” Dan ground his hips against his imaginary “date.” Thankfully the lack of a partner also meant the lack of an assault charge. Though the crime against humanity would have to be dealt with at another time.
“No seriously,” now I was curious, “Bungalow 8 isn’t your usual speed. Something on fire?”
“Well, not yet,” smirked Troy, “Lexi is in the air. Will be here tomorrow morning and you know what a hard-ass she is. James wants everyone at his tomorrow to welcome her and shit. He also has a special request to make sure you’re sober by then too.” Troy eyeballed me and I knew he’d probably been sent by James to escort me home. He wouldn’t want Princess Lexi to have to deal with my obnoxious ass.
“Fuck Lexi!” I slammed. I was not going to let her see how much she had gotten under my skin and I certainly wasn’t going to play nice.
“Dude, I would do her in a heartbeat! I ain’t even playing. I bet she is fucking amazing in the sack.” Dan fuelled my rage further. She was amazing and I hoped to hell he never got to find out.
“Like that is even a possibility!” Troy laughed before turning serious, “You need to stop this shit man. I don’t know where you went or what got you pissed and if you don’t want to talk about it, then I ain’t going to get Dr. Phil on your ass. But you need to get on board and focus. AND I know she rattles your chain so you need to get a lid on it and play nice.”
Jase stood beside Troy, his arms crossed across his chest. Guess this was as close to an intervention as I was going to get. Play nice? Was that even a possibility for us?
“Tell James not to worry,” I yawned both physically an
d mentally exhausted, “I’m done with my shit.” I guess it was time to pull it together and deal with reality, one that didn’t include Lexi in my life.
“Ok let’s get you home,” Troy slung his arm around my shoulder and guided me toward the exit.
“Hey if you two are going to make out, just give me a heads up.” Jase laughed as he dragged Dan out with us.
“I was actually hoping you were going to give me a hand job to go with the warm and fuzzy feeling you’re giving me.” I laughed back. No matter what, these guys would always have my back.
The four of us walked out of the club and I felt a change. Ready or not, I was going to have to face Lexi. Deep down and as hard as it was, I needed to. I needed to man up and look at her and not fall apart. Maybe after I saw her again and saw the emptiness, I could finally move on. Right now, I was still in pieces, having left a part of me in that room with her when I walked out and I needed to be whole again, with or without her.
Chapter 6 – Taylah
Author’s Note: This chapter takes place in New York. Lexi and Hannah have just arrived at Lexi’s new Manhattan apartment for the first time.
“I’m telling you Dave, someone is moving in there. I heard them.” I discreetly looked from the peephole of our apartment and saw movement in the hallway.
“Oh well, guess we’ll meet them soon enough. Stop lurking at the door, Babe. Anyone would think you were a stalker.” Dave barely looked up from the stack of paper in front of him, silently absorbed by the latest band he was producing.
“Aren’t you curious who it is? I don’t get a budget like that for just anyone. Must be someone important. Or maybe rich? It could be some Cuban drug lord or a Sicilian mob boss! We should definitely find out!”
I wasn’t surprised that Dave was giving me his usual unconcerned attitude. I mean, I loved the man senseless but his casual laid back SoCal demeanour dictated that I would get the standard “it’s all good” response. Not like me, I grew up in this city. New Yorker, born and bred and it had taught me a thing or two about people. I knew the shady side, the ugliness and that despite the fact that this was the most vibrant city in this great nation, it was rife with crime and violence. How could it not be? You pack that many people into a city grid, throw in a generous seasoning of different nationalities, religions and beliefs and you are going to end up with a hell of a matzo ball soup. And not like one from the Deli on 7th.
“Babe, it’s my civic duty to find out. People count on me. We live in a nice building and we don’t want it overrun by riff raff do we? Hells no. That shit doesn’t just take care of itself; we have to actively protect our sanctity, our turf. It’s not being nosey, it’s being responsible and I am ALL for being responsible,” I reasoned. After all, everything I was saying was true. The good folks of our ‘hood relied heavily on the grapevine intel I provided. It was a tough job, but someone had to do it and honestly, I didn’t really trust anyone else to do it to my level of satisfaction.
“Taylah; Babe. I don’t need to remind you that you aren’t in the CIA right? It’s probably just a boring dot com tech head. Or some heiress with a trust fund. We aren’t living in Hell’s Kitchen.” Dave laughed. I excused his ignorance on the importance of the issue based on the fact that he is… well… not me.
“Dave, firstly, if I was in the CIA I can guarantee you I would be telling the President to refurb the White House. I’m all for historical statement pieces but seriously, his national residence reeks of crusty old man. I’m just sayin’ - you can still respect the classics and move into the future. Secondly, if it IS a dot com-er or an heiress, I’d still need to know. You don’t want our IP address used as a piggyback for illegal hacking activity or worse still, the front hallway covered in Chihuahua crap? No! We need to be prepared to know what and who we are dealing with!” I turned back to the peephole to try and garner more information. Seriously, I think it might be time for an external surveillance system, old school recon was giving me a crick in my neck.
Dave joined me at the door, “Why don’t you just go say hello? Novel idea, I know, but it’s easier than trying to see around the 90 degree turn of the hallway.” His big smile indulged me.
“Not until I know what we are dealing with, Babe. I can’t go out there half-cocked! I need to gather more information first.” I cursed the fish-eye hole that was giving me nothing as I stared out into the hall.
My services had been retained by the corporate body that owned the building two weeks ago when the apartment had been let. No details on the tenants were available to me, other than the transaction was being handled by a third party. This immediately piqued my interest. Homes, apartments, dwellings were a personal reflection on those of who lived in them, so in most cases (especially in Manhattan) people got all Bridezilla on their design choices. Who wants to live in a place they hate?! Marriages have broken up solely on the back of wallpaper versus rendering arguments. At this end of town, tenants were even more anal than most! Next to stockbrokers, investors and entrepreneurs, designers were KING (or Queen as the case may be) in this city. People relied on us to know what to wear, whose art show to see and what car to drive. Most people spoke to their designer more than their therapist so you can see that my attitude was not from some overinflated god complex but from legitimate statistical information.
The fact that I was given almost carte blanche on the space also had me perplexed. The only directives were classy, sophisticated and modern. That was it! No colour palette, no focal pieces to incorporate, no delusional DIY-er “suggestions” – nothing. Here is a bunch of cash, make it a home, I trust you! Who does that? I’ll tell you who. Nobody. So it’s understandable that I was a little more than curious to see who was going to be sharing square-footage with us.
“I had heard voices earlier. Two distinct female voices outside,” I recounted to Dave as I kept my vigil by the door.
“Ok, so we can safely rule out a drug cartel,” Dave reasoned as he went back to his earlier task i.e. sitting on the couch and shuffling papers.
“Why? Just ‘cause they’re women? Do you not watch HBO?? Dave, sweetie, the fact you are so trusting is adorable but seriously, do not be lulled into a false sense of security by the fact that they are women. If anything, that makes them more dangerous because it is unexpected. You think they are all sweet and innocent and one day they knock on your door to borrow a cup of sugar and then BOOM you wake up in an ice bath missing a kidney!” I was glad at least one of us was staying sharp.
“Taylah,” Dave’s laugh erupted from deep within his throat, “that makes no sense. If they are into drugs why would they be trafficking body parts?”
“Diversification, Dave! It’s a dog eat dog world, Babe! You can’t be dabbling in just one illegal enterprise these days. Criminals have needed to evolve. But don’t you worry, I’m onto them and THAT is why I need to find out who is moving in!” It may have taken me a while, but I think I finally convinced my darling husband as to why my CSI investigation was integral.
“Shhhh!” I hushed, “I think someone is coming!” I strained my eyeball against the glass.
“I wasn’t saying anything,” protested Dave, shrugging from the couch.
“You are now, Shhhhh!” I corrected as I waved him off with my arm.
“Only ‘cause you are talking to me,” Dave muttered under his breath.
“Dave, grab a pen. Write this down!” I snapped as I watched the hallway intently. “A large African-American male, LORDY he’s HUGE! Approximately six, seven? 260-270 pounds. Hair colour: black. Eye colour: unable to be determined at this time due to sunglasses obscuring view. Clothing: Black cargo pants (Jesus, I didn’t realize anyone wore those anymore), heavy steel-toed boots and black non-descript jacket possible circa 2012 Urban Outfitters. Strong jawline. Confident posture. Walks with assertion. Possibly an assassin though requires a major wardrobe overhaul.”
“Babe, I doubt he’s an assassin,” Dave sighed as he scribbled my description on a notepad in front o
f him, continuing to humor me.
“Two large, black suitcases, sleek. Samsonite.” I continued as I watched him lift the luggage, like it weighed nothing, through the hall and disappear around the corner. The lack of LV was a good sign, no self-respecting heiress would be caught dead with Samsonite cases. Regardless of a brand’s durability and reliability, it was Louis Vuitton or it was nothing. I took comfort in the predictability of the stereotype and ruled out at least one possibility for the occupant.
“Ok, we done with collecting data, Tay? I’ve got work to do.” Dave smiled as he casually tossed the notepad to me.
“Fine, get back to work. I’m going to see what our Mystery Man is up to.” I refused to budge from my position at the door.
A few minutes later Mystery Man exited back into the hall. He stalled outside as he did a quick survey of the surroundings (oh yeah! Definitely assassin material!) before walking back to elevators. “I think he’s leaving Dave!”
“He’s probably just helping them move in, Babe.” Dave grumbled, no longer interested in my commentary as he fired up his laptop.
“No, he looked too interested in the landscape to be a mover. I’m saying he doesn’t look like a tenant but possibly a “cleaner” and not your garden variety at that.” I looked for any noticeable bulges under his arms or at the waistband of his pants to indicate the presence of a concealed weapon. Damn puffy Urban Outfitters jacket, I can’t see jack shit!
“This is why you need to cool it on the Tarantino flicks.” Dave tapped away on his laptop. “Your imagination is starting to run away from you.”
“Someone else is leaving!!” I enthused as I kept my eye trained on the hallway. “Damn it, I can’t get a good look!” I struggled to gain any solid information as the petite figure moved quickly from the apartment and down the hall toward the elevator. “It’s definitely a female, petite. Dark hair. Nice outfit and cute boots. Whoever she is she doesn’t shop at Macy’s that’s for sure! Damn, she has a pink Birkin! That’s fashion folklore right there, I didn’t think they even existed beyond the pages of Vogue.”
