by S. E. Law
“Speaking of safe sex . . . umm, did he use protection?”
Oh no. Dread crashes into the pit of my stomach. I press my hand to my heart and take short, panicked breaths.
“Oh, shit, he didn’t. I just got so excited, I wanted it inside me so badly that I didn’t think . . .” I look up at my best friend, eyes pleading. “You don’t think –”
Jane just pats me on the back comfortingly.
“Listen, honey, I’ve screwed everyone and their brother at those parties and I’ve never been as much as a day late. Personally, I think it’s something in the punch,” she winked. “You’re going to be fine.”
“I hope so,” I say, still not convinced.
“But did you have a good time, besides meeting this guy? Did you meet other people? Tell me everything and don’t leave out a single juicy detail, I want to know –”
The front door slams. Jane and I jump.
“Miiiiiii-sssyyyy.” It’s my mother’s commanding voice, calling me in her trademark singsong way. “Come help me with these bags.”
I sigh. “Wedding stuff,” I groan. “Come on, let’s go. Put on some clothes and we’ll continue this conversation later.” I quickly change out of jammies and into a respectable shorts and t-shirt while Jane shimmies back into her T-shirt and skirt.
“Oh, there you girls are,” says my mother as we come down the stairs. She’s surrounded by several overflowing shopping bags and at least four dozen gigantic fluted vases. Each one comes up to my waist and looks like it could hold a small tree.
“They had a deal on centerpieces at Party Time Wholesale,” my mom explains. “I’ll use the florist to do the flowers for the wedding but I was thinking of doing my own arrangements for the rehearsal dinner. What do you think?”
I take in the giant, colorful orbs.
“I don’t get it, Mom,” I ask. “These vases are huge. Are you trying to prevent your guests from seeing each other across the table?”
“Don’t be fresh,” Nancy scolds. “Chic Bride magazine says enormous floral decorations are the new trend. I’m going to use a mix of gladiolas and day lilies because they’ll liven up the place.”
I make a face.
“Um, the rehearsal dinner is at Scannucci’s, I think that place is already pretty lively with the disco ball and all.”
I motion for Jane not to speak, but my friend pipes up anyways.
“I like them! They look very eclectic!”
My mom nods approvingly. “Thank you, Jane. I’m glad someone likes it. And besides, I changed the reservation. We’re trying that new bistro that just opened on Chestnut. I decided their wallpaper matched my rehearsal dinner dress better.”
I open my mouth but then think better of it. “Sure, it’s your day,” I sigh. “Knock yourself out.”
“That’s right, my darling,” my mother sings. She squeezes my cheeks in her hands. “And someday, when we’re planning your wedding, I will tell you the exact same thing. It’s your day, so do what makes you happy.”
I’ll believe that when I see it, I think, but say nothing.
“Speaking of which,” my mom continues, “Jim and I are having everyone over for a get-to-know-you-brunch next Saturday.”
I sigh.
“This would be Jim, your fiancé?”
My mom nods.
“Yes, my fiancé, who will also be your new stepfather.”
“Oooh,” interjects Jane. “You haven’t met him yet, right Missy?”
Jane’s right because Nancy met her new guy while I was away at college. Things progressed fast, and as a result, I’ve never met my new stepdad-to-be.
But I trust Nancy. She’s been around the block a couple times now, so I’m sure she picked someone good this time around. My mom continues to speak.
“Blended families have a responsibility to make sure everyone is included,” she says. “That means honoring the family role everyone has in the new arrangement. We’re going to be family now. We’re not just random strangers passing each other in the night.”
The phrase “random strangers passing each other in the night” makes me jump a little. If only my mother knew what her daughter had been doing with a random stranger last night. A very sexy random stranger who made sure he shot her pretty little daughter full of hot cum. Oooh, it’s so bad and I sizzle just from the memory.
But I decide to keep all of that to myself, forever. It’s none of my mom’s business after all.
“Oh, darn it.” My mother frowns at the long receipt in her hands. “That clerk at Hutzler’s department store rang me up twice for the same china set on my registry. Missy, darling, could I ask you a favor? I’m simply beat after doing all this shopping. Do you mind driving back to the mall and straightening this out?”
Before I can answer, Jane exclaims, “With pleasure!” and snatches the wallet and receipt out of my mother’s hands. “We’ll put the charge back on your credit card.” She’s practically running out the front door to her car. “Come on, Missy!” she yells. “Your poor mom needs a break!”
I sigh. I have no idea why Jane’s being such a maniac, but it’s probably because she wants to hear all the juicy details from last night.
“Love you, Mom,” I say as I kiss her on the cheek and head out the door.
To be honest, it’s nice to be taking a summer joyride with Jane. We take our usual spots: her in the driver’s seat, and me free to roll down the window and watch the scenery go by. But ruminating over how I’ve got a big secret that I’m keeping from my mother has got me conflicted. I mean, granted, it’s not like we ever had a very close relationship to begin with. And my sex life isn’t any of her business, any more than hers is mine.
But as unbelievably hot as last night was, I do feel a little guilty over how slutty I became. Is that really who I am? And the whole safe sex thing – how could I have forgotten something so important?
“The brunch is next Saturday?” says Jane, giving me a knowing look out of the corner of her eye. “Then you know what we’re doing next Friday night, right?” She winks at me.
“Oh, god, Jane.” I know what she’s getting at. “I can’t think about that now.”
“Why not?”
“Because . . . well, because I don’t even know who I am anymore, that’s why! Am I the sweet virgin who bakes blueberry muffins and loves a good beach read? Or am I this voluptuous, wanton sex goddess who succumbs to some hot dude at a party?”
Jane giggles.
“Well, to be fair, you didn’t succumb to everyone’s charms. It was just that one guy. And I have to say,” she pointed out, “even though I’m not the expert, he does seem like a guy worth succumbing to.”
I laugh myself.
“You’re right. Besides, who says I have to choose? I might have gotten it twelve ways until Tuesday last night, but I didn’t stop being my old muffin-loving self today. I guess I’m still learning about who I am.”
“That’s right. That’s the spirit,” encourages my friend. “You have to live a little, right? So think about the party Friday,” she says while pulling into the mall parking lot.
I suddenly get an idea.
“Jane,” I say, “do you mind taking care of this registry thing by yourself? And then meeting me in that new plus-size boutique when you’re done?”
My friend shoots me a knowing look.
“Sure no prob.” She gives me an impulsive kiss on the cheek and darts out of the car. “Race you to the front door!”
What? We’re not kids anymore, but before I can stop, we’re running through the parking lot. I haven’t been to the mall in ages. I was never a shop-till-you-drop kind of girl, but that’s mostly because it’s hard to find attractive clothes that fit my curves. But there’s a new, trendy plus size boutique inside that everyone’s been talking about, and I want to visit the shop.
I did feel pretty in the dress I wore to the party last night. But that was a girly, cute dress for the old me. Even if I’m still learning who I am, I’d li
ke to dress the part of someone who occasionally takes a walk on the wild side. And maybe, if I run into that sexy guy again, I’d like to be wearing something he’d love to take off.
I delight at how many choices I have in the boutique. Shopping for women’s wear now is definitely not the torture it was in my teen years. I quickly find a sleek, form-fitting black satin dress with peekaboo lace over the cleavage, and take it into the dressing room. I have a moment of panic while I’m stepping into the dress. What if I rip it because I’m so big, and then I have to buy it anyway? But it slides up my hips perfectly. It’s tailored expertly to hug every subtle curve of my hips and thighs and waist. I zip it up the side and say a silent prayer before looking at myself in the mirror.
I can’t breathe for a moment. The woman gazing back at me is gorgeous. For once it doesn’t look like the clothes I’m wearing are fighting with my body. Now my curves are in charge. Now the dress I’m wearing knows it’s just the garnish on a body that was already sassy and sexy.
I’m actually getting a little turned on just looking at myself in the mirror. I stroke where the silk hugs my curves and enjoy the sensation of my own touch up and down my sides, when suddenly I let out a little shriek. Jane’s standing right behind me, peeking around the changing room curtain.
“I see you!” she singsongs.
I whip the curtain aside.
“Do you mind with the Peeping Tom routine? Seriously, you freaked me out!”
She just laughs.
“It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before,” she says drolly. “I mean, come on. But Missy, is this for the party on Friday? So you decided “yes,” right?”
I’m hesitant at first, but then I nod slowly.
“Yeah, but I want something different to wear. Something that will help me fit in better.” Of course, I’m dying to see that hot man again, but I don’t say anything about that.
Jane merely nods and throws me a wink.
“Good, I’m glad you’re letting your inner tigress out. So I’ll come pick you up Friday, right?” she probes.
I look at myself in the mirror one last time and imagine the man I had last night unzipping me out of this dress. Or pulling it up to expose my wetness. Or just ripping it off me altogether. Looking into my saucy reflection, I nod.
“Yes,” I breathe. “I’ll be ready.”
8
Trevor
I never went in for fairy tales. Just ask my dad: the first time he took me to a puppet show, when I was three years old, I stared at the puppets skeptically and announced, “This isn’t real. I’m going home.”
But after meeting Missy at the party last night, suddenly I understood the appeal of the Cinderella myth. A beautiful woman comes to the ball where a handsome prince spies her. They dance all night, but she can’t reveal who she is. Only the glass slipper she accidentally leaves behind gives him any clue how to find her.
Well, I don’t have a glass slipper. All I have is a vague promise from a woman with pink hair and a sharp wit. I have no guarantee that Missy will attend the next Club Elegance party, but some hope is better than none.
In general, I don’t take action on hunches and hopes. I get the facts, and if the facts aren’t lining up, I change the facts to make it happen. But right now, all I can do is pace around my room at the only luxury hotel within a ten-mile radius of this backwater town. And it’s driving me nuts.
My thoughts keep returning to her. I could tell she was a sultry beauty in her dress, but once I got her clothes off, her voluptuous body was beyond my wildest dreams. There is nothing like a gorgeously curvy woman to get my cock hard. She has the kind of flesh you want to seize and sink into like a pillow, and the kind of ass made to bury yourself up to the balls inside.
I immediately regret we didn’t do it doggy style. I would have loved to see that enormous bottom shake with each thrust and watch her moan as she turns her head back to me, trying to catch my gaze. Then to see her eyes roll up in her head as she opens her mouth soundlessly, and to feel her pussy twitch and tighten around me -
I shake off the fantasy. I’m going to make myself come here and now if I keep this line of thought. I’m never going to see this gorgeous creature again if I spend all my time jerking off in my room. It’s pathetic.
I pick up the phone and dial. I’ve got one contact in this town who knows the score. Even if I don’t want to get into my personal life with him – and I definitely don’t – he’s always the number one most reliable source I’ve got.
He answers on the first ring. “Yeah?” Some people think that’s brusque, but I don’t. I admire men who cut the bullshit.
I jump right in.
“I got here yesterday,” I say. “What do you know about Club Elegance? High end parties?”
“Nothing,” he says. “Vice and Narcotics haven’t brought it up. Should I know?”
“Not necessarily. From what I can tell, it’s like a social club with no illegal activity.” I don’t need to get into the details. “I was invited to one of their gatherings by a woman I met at the gym. I just wanted a police lieutenant’s opinion before I attended.”
My dad snorts.
“Haven’t a clue. Sounds like fun.”
“I’ll let you know how it is, if I go.”
“Oh yeah? Where are you staying?” he asks.
“Hotel Papillon, off of Route 30.”
“The French place? Fancy. I need a lead on a good luxury hotel nearby where we can stay.”
I frown.
“But I thought you were going to Barcelona for your honeymoon.”
Jim sighs.
“The nearest airport’s a half hour away, so we’re going to need somewhere to sleep the first night. Go to that party if you want, but keep Saturday free for the big meeting.”
Right. The “meeting” where I meet my new stepmom. Yay.
“It’s in my calendar. See you then?”
“Absolutely. Bye, Trevor.”
“Bye, Dad.”
The week passes by in a blur. I’m on top of my game. I call my bitcoin broker, check in with my race manager, and nail down dates on this year’s racing calendar, among other tasks. Plus, a daily visit to the gym occupies my time. To blow off a little steam, I take a day trip to Charlotte and visit the Lamborghini dealership. They put a $500,000 freeze on my platinum card so I can take one of their cars out for a spin. The backroad curves of Route 421 are empty enough for me to really throttle her out and see what she’s made of. It’s a rush to push a powerful, sexy vehicle to her very limit. In fact, there’s only one feeling I like better, and come Friday night I’m going to push someone else to the limit for sure.
I know where the Chancery Estate is. It’s the big modern mansion on the other side of town, far away from the first Club Elegance party house. It’s sleek and artsy, like something that belongs in Los Angeles, and not this sleepy southern town. But you can’t see it from the road. You’ve got to drive up close on an unmarked route, which means lots of privacy on its surrounding acres.
Friday night I pull up to the dirt road just off the main route. A smiling man in a tuxedo is standing near the dirt path, by the side of the road.
“Are you lost, sir?” he asks.
I look him in the eye and say, “Whatever you want.”
He immediately gives me a knowing glance and motions to the half-hidden dirt road. “To the left, and right, and then left again. Have fun,” he says with a neutral expression on his face. Good. They’ve trained him well.
I’m glad the shocks on my BMW can take a road this undeveloped. The path winds and forks through dense forest. Even with his directions, it’s easy to get lost, but I make the last turn and find my reward: the Chancery Estate, hiding in the twilight like a forgotten castle.
As soon as I exit the car I see why they chose this venue. The mansion has modern wraparound windows. The view from inside must be spectacular, but when the lights are on at night, like they are now, anyone on the lawn can see everythi
ng going on inside, and the party is definitely in full swing.
Couples – and triples, and quadruples – are engaging in every kind of debauchery up against the floor to ceiling windows. I see erect men getting leisurely blow jobs; women pressing their breasts to the glass as they’re being pounded from behind; and two women kissing passionately while dipping their fingers into each other’s wet cunts. It’s an exhibitionist’s paradise, and probably a voyeur’s, too.
As I walk up to the front door, I step around other couples taking advantage of the warm twilight weather. They are openly sucking, caressing, kneading, and teasing every part of each other’s bodies. The occasional trill of a woman coming to orgasm or a man’s grunt interrupts a soft chorus of moans and laughter.
I won’t lie that the scene is turning me on. But when a raven-haired woman looks me brazenly in the eye and whispers, “Join me,” I ignore how she’s fingering her clit for my benefit. No matter how lovely or willing she is, I’m not here for her.
I’m just about to ring the front doorbell when I hear the sounds of splashing and laughter behind the house. Intrigued, my feet take me around the building to investigate.
I brush aside some vines and exotic flowers to reveal a tropical paradise in the backyard. There’s a gigantic blue swimming pool that looks like a watering hole deep in some jungle, and a couple guests are having cheerful small talk along the pool’s edge. But many more men and women are in the pool. Their movements are sensual and unhurried as they enjoy the sensations of each other’s bodies in the weightless, warm water.
Now I’m definitely turned on. I’ve got to find Missy. I won’t spend myself with anyone but her at this party, but if she chickened out, or her friend lied to me, I’m not staying. And I want desperately to stay given the debauchery surrounding me.
Suddenly my heart leaps and I hear a familiar voice. I turn the corner and my heart starts racing.
