She rolled her eyes. “Believe me when I say that not talking to my mother is a specialty of mine.”
With that she left. Palmer sat down, realizing that he had just circumvented a huge scandal. If his mother had found out about Lois, it could put her over the edge. At the same time, he had found the perfect beard for Jet. Two birds with one stone. Not a bad afternoon.
***
Friday night seemed to take weeks to arrive. Lois was beside herself, certain she’d landed a dream job. She was a huge fan of Jet Thompson and was dying to tell someone about it.
She was in the tub, shaving her legs, when her mother burst in. “Jesus, Mom. Can’t you wait until I’m out?”
Beverly put the lid down on the toilet and took a seat. “Where are you going?”
“What makes you think I’m going anywhere?” Lois’ tone was cold so as not to encourage discussion.
“You’re shaving your legs.”
Lois rolled her eyes. “Like I’ve never shaved them without going out?”
Beverly crossed her legs and locked her hands over her knees. “Not in recent memory.”
“I’m going out, if you must know,” she said reluctantly.
“With whom?”
“Mom, drop it. I’m a big girl, well over eighteen and don’t need to check in and out with you like a librarian.”
“Don’t be snotty, Lois. I’m the only person in this whole city who keeps track of you. Without me, you could disappear and no one would notice.”
Lois frowned, her hand stilling with the razor poised halfway up her shin. “That was a bitchy thing to say.”
Beverly was quiet, reflecting on her own words. “You have a point. Okay, I’m sorry, but I want to know who you’re going out with.”
“Mom, I can’t tell you. I have a little job and had to sign a non-disclosure. I’d tell you if I could, but my hands are tied. Legally.”
“How convenient. How long did it take for you to think that one up?”
Lois sighed, going back to shaving. “Only telling you the truth.”
Beverly got up and walked out, slamming the bathroom door. Lois took her time, enjoying the small pleasures of privacy.
Lois was seldom out at night in the city. Palmer’s building glittered, its exterior marked by massive glass windows. The brass handrails and polished marble floors exuded power and success. To her surprise, the outer doors were unlocked and she went right into the lobby. A uniformed guard met her immediately, and had apparently been waiting for her. He locked the doors behind them and then asked her to follow him.
They walked through the ground floor of the building only to leave via a rear exit, which emptied into a parking garage. A white limousine was idling outside the exit and as Lois approached, the driver came out and opened a back door for her.
Lois popped her head in first and saw Palmer was alone. “Get in,” he said. “We’re meeting Jet at the club.”
She stepped inside, the heels of her black patent spikes catching on the bottom of the door. She tripped, falling directly into Palmer’s lap. He was surprised, but helped set her upright. Shame she’s related, he thought. She’s definitely all woman.
The Nines was an exclusive hangout for the wealthy. The façade of the building was nondescript. Anyone who didn’t know it was there wouldn’t see anything unusual. Like most exclusive clubs, there was a secret entrance. Lois followed closely behind Palmer, taking it all in. They walked in a nice but not extravagant lobby, and took the elevator to the ninth floor. In that lobby, which was almost identical to the ground floor, Palmer took a plastic card out of his wallet. He inserted it into what Lois had originally thought was a flower vase on a table in the center of the room. A secret elevator appeared from behind a floor-length painting of New York City at night. Lois struggled to keep her expression neutral, trying to pretend she wasn’t seriously awed, trying to pretend she got on secret elevators all the time.
“This way,” Palmer said, gesturing. Lois followed him into the new elevator, which they rode down, beneath the ground, into a subterranean world where nothing was illegal. It was a playground for the chic and reckless.
Jet was sitting at the end of the first bar and Lois thought her legs would give way when she saw him. He was even sexier in person than on the screen.
“Jet, this is your new date. May I present Jezzi?” Palmer stood back while Jet looked her up and down.
“You’re kidding, right?” Jet drawled coolly, his famous gray eyes landing on her face.
“I beg your pardon?” Lois shot back, the insult beginning to raise her hackles. She might need money, but not that badly.
“Jet, now—” began Palmer.
Jet interrupted, holding up his hand. “You actually think I can let this doll baby be a temporary employee? Look at her, man. She’s killer. I want this one to stick around and play a while,” he said in his signature raspy voice. His hand reached out and traced the curve beneath her breast and down over her hip. The black sheath she’d worn felt like silk beneath his fingers and his touch sent curls of fire into her belly. She could hardly believe Jet Thompson, whom she’d gawked at in movies along with the rest of the females on the planet, was touching her.
“Palmer, you can leave now,” Jet drawled. “I’ll see to it she gets home alright.”
“Calm down, Jet. She’s on the clock, but not for what you might think. You need to circulate a bit before you leave with her and then I suggest taking her a couple of other places before you take her to her home.”
Jet pretended to pout, placed a flat hand on Palmer’s chest and playfully, but firmly pushed him out of the way. He offered his arm to Lois and she took it with enthusiasm.
She wasn’t permitted to use her real name, according to the non-disclosure. Palmer had named her “Jezzi”—a play on the spelling of the famous character. He thought it suited her far better, regardless. Otherwise, she sounded like Superman’s girlfriend—which was most likely exactly why her mother had named her Lois.
Palmer wandered to another side of the room, keeping an eye on Lois. He may not be a blood brother, and may not be willing to admit any relationship whatsoever, but he did feel a little responsible for her and Jet did have a rather overwhelming and magnetic personality.
“So, Jezzi,” Jet began. “You realize to make this look authentic, we’re going to need to look really friendly, right?” he said as he turned toward her. Before she knew what was happening he had placed one hand behind her neck and bent her backward while kissing her hard on the mouth.
When he broke away, pulling her back upright, Lois nodded, unable to speak. She tried to catch her breath as a few nearby onlookers clapped a bit, grinning. Jet was known for his dramatics, it’s what endeared him to his fans.
“There, was that so bad?” he asked her. “You know… I like to tip generously to those who keep me happy,” he said suggestively.
Lois found her voice. “I’m game,” she said in the sexiest voice she could conjure up.
She made the rounds of the room on Jet’s arm. Every so often, he snaked his arm behind her back and laid his hand on her ass. She could feel herself getting warm and damp inside, every touch of his hand making her anticipate more.
“I think it’s time we hit another place,” he whispered in her ear. She waved casually at Palmer as they left, ascending to the ground floor in the elevator.
Jet’s car was brought to the curb as soon as the attendant recognized him. The silver Aston Martin rode smoothly and Lois lowered the window, letting her hair blow in the breeze. She felt like she was flying as he masterfully steered around the right-angles of intersections; the streets curiously empty at this time of night.
The car smoothly pulled up to a curb and Jet handed his keys to yet another attendant, this time opening Lois’ door and physically lifting her out of the car. He carried her inside and armed guards nodded that he was permitted to enter. This was yet another exclusive member’s club, but one most often frequented by a younger
set of clientele who took part in anything outrageous they could think of. Neon pumped light into dark corners where the odor of open sex and pot swirled around its participants.
Jet found a club chair off to one side and sat down, pulling Lois onto his lap. Someone handed him a rolled joint and he sampled it, then put it into Lois’ mouth and nodded, encouraging her to take deep drags.
Downstairs at the street, one of the cities most renowned paparazzi photographers had spotted Jet’s Aston Martin from her post in a narrow alley between two buildings. She snapped several photos as the couple entered the club and then made her way across the street where she approached one of the guards, smiling.
“What’s it take to get in this place?” she asked, holding out a hundred dollar bill. Both men ignored her.
Cathy Riley was not one to give up, however. “Hey, they know me in here,” she blurted and boldly walked between them to grab the door handle. An iron hand clamped onto her wrist and she felt herself being lifted through the air and deposited into an open trash bin.
“Asshole,” she muttered as she climbed out, holding her camera bag over her raven hair. She stood to one side for a bit, watching as two more limos pulled up to the curb and discharged their guests. Finally, she could take it no longer.
“Hey, Jet!” she shouted as loudly as she could from a position just to the south of the club property. “Hey, Jet Thompson!” she screamed again, cupping her hands as a megaphone. The guards couldn’t touch her unless she was on their property, but they weren’t looking very happy. “Jet Thompson is in there, everyone. He’s got a woman with him. What do you think about that? Want to read about it? It’ll be tomorrow morning’s big headline. Just follow me… Cathy Riley… blogger and number one Jet Thompson fan.”
At this point, one of the guards opened the door and without letting it close, he motioned to someone inside. The man stepped out between them and pointed to Cathy to come closer. She scampered up the steps and went inside. The manager, it seemed, was not a fan of Jet’s and in fact, had a bone to pick with him. She handed him five, one-hundred dollar bills and soon found herself inside the inner sanctum of the “royals only” strip club.
There was a woman on a short stage to one side. It was surrounded by a few club chairs but only one occupant sat in a chair—Jet Thompson. The woman had auburn hair and a black dress. Spiked heels lay cast off to one side. She was dancing slowly and moving in erotic circles that came increasingly closer to Jet, who sat transfixed as he watched. Cathy snapped some photos in the dim light, setting the exposure long so she wouldn’t have to use a flash and draw attention to herself.
When the performance had ended, the green-eyed girl picked up the heels by the strap and leaned forward, kissing Jet fully on the lips as her dress dipped forward. He boldly pulled down the neckline until her breasts were fully exposed and fastened his mouth upon a nipple. The girl’s head lay back as she rolled it from side to side, overcome by the sucking sensation. Jet lingered a bit longer and then took the girl by the hand, leading her toward the door. Cathy snapped a more few photos and then the girl stumbled and fell behind. Jet was shoved forward by a brute of a man, shirtless and bald, separating the couple. Cathy grabbed a few shots of Jet and the bald man, framed so as to make them appear as though they were a couple there together. Jet spotted her this time and his frown was dark as he reached out for his date, pulling her to her feet.
By the time Cathy pushed through the crowded club and reached the exit, Jet was already in his Aston Martin. The engine roared to life and Cathy took one final shot of his car as it retreated.
***
The doorman tipped his cap as he opened the building door for Lois and Jet. The booze was beginning to wear off and Lois was feeling tentative, but highly excited about seeing the inside of Jet’s condo.
The turbo elevator shot them directly to his penthouse and his fingerprint opened the door into his foyer. Black and white square tiles laid at an angle to form an expanding medallion on the floor. Small tables banked the circular room and supported massive vases of tropical flowers. The visual impact was sweet to her senses.
Jet pulled her by the hand into a large room that held clusters of chairs and sofas in intimate conversation areas. A marble fireplace sans mantle dominated one wall, rising to the top of the high ceiling. It was reflected in the sliding floor to ceiling windows that overlooked Central Park.
Jet deposited her on a sectional while he tapped a button to reveal a lighted, glass-shelved bar. He poured green crème d’ menthe into a whiskey tumbler and sauntered over to where she sat. A tap of a button on the end table dimmed the lights and turned on music.
Sitting beside her, Jet intimately held the glass to her lips and then leaned forward to lick the remnants from that soft skin. “Do you like my little nest in the sky?” he asked in a soft tone, nuzzling her neck as he held the glass once again for her to sip and then sipped from it himself.
She couldn’t believe she was literally sharing a drink with Jet Thompson and the headiness, amplified by the liqueur and the pot was beginning to cloud her thought. She nodded. “Very much—it feels like sitting in the clouds,” she said as Jet’s lips trailed down her neck. She leaned back into the plush cushions of his couch as Jet pulled her dress down, giving him better access to her breasts. He lifted her breasts out of her bra, swirling his tongue around her nipples, biting them lightly, and Lois gasped with pleasure.
“Does that feel good baby?” he murmured against her skin, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking.
“Oh god yes…” Lois’ head was swimming with the thoughts and sensations of his efforts and the combination became overwhelming.
He pulled back, grinning at her. “Well there’s more where that came from.” He finished what was left of the green liqueur and set the glass on a side table beside the couch.
His gray eyes were dark with lust as he slid his hands around to her back, his fingers tugging at the zipper on her dress. She leaned forward, holding his gaze as he slipped the dress over her head. He dropped it to the ground and pushed her down onto the couch, laying down on top of her.
Lois pressed up into the weight and the warmth of him, pulling his head down to hers to kiss him. He groaned into her mouth as he pushed himself between her legs, grinding himself against her. She could feel him, hard and ready, pressing between her thighs. She hadn’t been planning on having sex with Jet Thompson tonight. It had blown her mind just to kiss him. And now she was basically naked on his couch, ready and willing for him to take her. This was a fantasy come true.
She pulled at his shirt until he helped her take it off. Pressing her mouth against his well-muscled chest, she ran her hands over his bare skin, feeling the strength of his body. She felt like she could do nothing but touch him and be touched by him for the rest of her life.
She moaned as he kissed her neck, arching up beneath him as he forced his hands under her, reaching for the clasp of her bra. He had it off her in one smooth, practiced motion, giving his mouth free access to her aching breasts. She didn’t know if it was the alcohol, the pot, or Jet himself, but every sensation seemed magnified. Every touch of his tongue sent shivers racing down her spine, every nip of his teeth made her tremble with pleasure.
She wrapped her arms around him, running her hands through the silk of his hair, down the firm muscles that rippled in his back as he shifted above her. She still couldn’t quite comprehend the fact that she was with Jet Thompson, a guy she had admired and fantasized about from afar.
“You feel so good,” Jet said, pressing his bare chest to hers. He kissed her deeply on the mouth, his tongue pushing between her lips, and then he pulled away. The grin on his face was wicked as he rolled slightly off her. One of his hands slid slowly down her stomach, inching nearer and nearer to her panties. “You ready for me baby?”
Lois felt her breath catch in her throat as his fingers slipped under the thin fabric and discovered exactly how wet she was for him. She was definitel
y ready. She was having a difficult time waiting.
“Oh fuck,” groaned Jet, slipping one finger easily inside her. “You’re so wet.”
Lois bucked up against his hand, closing her eyes against the pleasure of it as he moved his finger in and out, in and out. His mouth latched onto her nipple as he kept slowly driving her insane with his hand between her legs. There were so many sensations that Lois felt overwhelmed. The combination of the sweet tugging of his lips around her nipple, the delicious in and out of his finger, and now his thumb drawing slow circles across her clit, made her feel like she was drowning in the pleasure of it.
Then his mouth was at her ear, whispering as his tongue traced the curve. “Do you want me to fuck you?”
Lois moaned, bucking her hips against his hand in answer. She was having a hard time concentrating on forming words, her movements were just natural, automatic responses to what he was doing to her.
He chuckled, low in his throat. “Say it for me baby. Tell me you want me to fuck you.”
A second finger joined the first and Lois cried out. “Fuck me Jet! Oh god please fuck me, please.” She whimpered as he curled his fingers inside of her. “Oh… please fuck me…”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
He withdrew his fingers and she opened her eyes, ready to beg him. But he was taking off his belt, unzipping his pants. He kicked his legs and she struggled to help him, awkwardly tugging on his pants until he had them off, kicked down to the other end of the couch.
Then his boxers. They joined his pants in a heap, and then she could feel him, hot and hard, on her hip. She could see him, fully erect, and she shivered with the anticipation of feeling his cock inside her. He settled himself between her lips, teasing them both as he rubbed the tip of himself against her wetness.
He groaned, biting his lip with pleasure. Leaning back to rest his weight on his knees, he hooked her legs over his shoulders, pressing kisses along the inside of her knee.
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