Fisher of Men

by Phoebe Alexander

  “I want you to cum on my cock,” he explained matter-of-factly. “Just wanted to tease you a little first.” He winked at her and then pulled her to her feet before she had a chance to protest. Her legs were shaking with frustration, her body punishing her for denying its climax.

  Before she could think too much about her aching pussy and legs of jelly, he spun her around facing the window. She was still standing as he pushed her forward hard. She caught herself with her hands against the glass, leaning over the bench seat. He slid his fingers up the inside of her thigh and then used both hands to force her legs further apart. “Don't move,” he warned her.

  Part of her wanted to move just to see what he would do, but then she remembered how badly she wanted him, even though he'd just driven her nearly to the point of no return and then abandoned her there. Cruel, she thought. So damn cruel! I'll have to get him back for that someday. But when he began to rub the head of his cock against her ass and then zeroed in on the entrance to her sex, she instantly forgot about retribution and instead was fighting the urge to beg him to take her.

  She saw the line of headlights moving slowly down the street below. Even well past midnight, the city was buzzing with traffic. As his cock burrowed into her waiting hole and the walls of her pussy stretched to adjust to his girth, she hoped that someone driving down there was looking up at her breasts pressed against the cold glass, a bulge growing in his pants. Thinking about someone being turned on, maybe to the point that he'd need to go home and take care of the insistent erection she caused, stroking his cock to the memory of her mouth gaping open as her partner slammed into her. He'd imagine her rapturous screams, even though he couldn't hear them. Maybe he'd imagine how she smelled, how she tasted.

  Those thoughts were the last ones she had as she finally exploded around Cap's cock, milking it with wild spasms of ecstasy until even he, the master of stamina and self-control, could no longer hold back his own release.

  That night they collapsed in each other’s arms after two more rounds, completely drained and satiated, peacefully slumbering in the city that never sleeps.

  By the time they awoke the next morning, sunlight was streaming through the window that had been their backdrop the night before. A wide beam of yellow splashed across Leah's face, urging her to wake up. “Wow, it's almost ten o'clock already!” she gasped. “I never sleep that long!”

  “It's amazing what being well fucked will do for you,” Cap mumbled, turning his body back over to face her.

  She playfully slapped his arm, “No, silly, it's what not having your dog around will do for you!”

  “Ow!” he groaned, drawing back as if she'd actually hurt him. “I'm not even awake yet and you're already beating me up.”

  She kissed him on the cheek. “I'm sorry, honey. So what are we doing today! Central Park? I've always wanted to go there!”

  He looked at her, blinked twice, but said nothing.

  Her eyebrows creased as she tried to figure out what she'd said wrong. “Oh, I didn't tell you, did I? Last night was amazing. The show, the dinner...the...um, after show part...thank you so much. I had a wonderful time!”

  His expression brightened for a moment and then faded again, the dimples slipping into oblivion. “We can't stay that long today, actually. Since it's already ten...I think we better be heading out by noon, don't you think?”

  Now it was Leah's turn to wear the blank expression. “I thought we were staying all weekend,” she said, unable to hide her disappointment.

  “Don't you have to be at work tonight?” he asked.

  Her mind scrambled to figure out the date. As soon as it came to her, she felt as if a ton of bricks had collapsed on top of her, leaving her buried in the rubble. Casey's Party. She had completely forgotten that it was that weekend, the weekend before Valentine's Day. Since coming back to Cap over a month ago, she had disassociated him with Casey's Group out of necessity, lest her mind drive her absolutely crazy. Now her buried feelings of inadequacy and paranoia and the nagging leaches of insecurity were threatening to suck the wind out of her sails. All she could think about was having to work that party while Cap circulated amongst the guests, staking out potential partners, plotting how to get one up to a room. Just the thought made her stomach churn.

  “Are you going?” she asked, her voice quiet and neutral. She needed him to state his intentions, and not take a cue from her reaction, so she was trying to stay calm even though her insides felt like they were melting in sour bile.

  His face scrunched up, making his brow wrinkle as if it he might be able to squeeze an answer out if he only concentrated hard enough. He rubbed his hand across his jaw, raking his fingers through his silver-streaked goatee. “What would you prefer I do?”

  Smart man, she thought. He is deferring to me. And now if I say, “Don't go,” then I look like the bad guy, not him. She wasn't going to let him get off that easily. “I would prefer you do whatever you'd like,” she answered, trying to remove the sharpness from her tone, but not quite succeeding.

  He took her reply as an open door for diplomacy. “Alright, how about this?” he proposed. “You know, couples who swing have rules. And rules are good, as long as everyone is in agreement, because they can mitigate jealousy and uncertainty and all that negative shit, right?”

  Leah slowly nodded, anxious to hear his potential solution.

  “Many couples have the rule that they only play together in the same room,” he said. She nodded again, remembering all of the advice he shared with her shortly before the New Year's Eve Party. “So what if I went to the party, confined myself to the ballroom, and then when you finished your shift and the ballroom is closed up, if we wanted to, you know, mingle upstairs, we could do it. Together.”

  Her question about whether or not he was willing to just give it up, to stop cold turkey, had been definitively answered. He clearly didn't want to stop. She fought to keep herself from getting angry, but she couldn't deny the stinging spines of her temper starting to pierce through her skin. Even after all that fucking last night, I'm still not enough for him. But then her rationality jumped in on the action too. Well, he's a swinger and has been for a long time. What did you expect him to say? At least he's willing to compromise. And he didn't say that he expected you to play. At least he said he wouldn't do it alone.

  “What if I don't want to play?” she played devil's advocate. She was trying to imagine a circumstance in which she would, but couldn't. But then she remembered the thrill of last night in front of the window when she hoped she was being watched. That was also the part of the New Year's Eve debacle that she couldn't deny enjoying, the part where others were turned on by watching her. I guess I'm an exhibitionist, she thought in a sudden moment of clarity. How could I be twenty-seven years old and never realize that about myself?

  “I don't want you to play unless you want to,” he assured her.

  She wasn't going to end this conversation until she was sure she had the answers she needed. “What if you want to play and I don't?” she pressed.

  He smiled and took her hand into his. “Sweetheart, I would never want you to take one for the team. I promise.”

  “Take one for the team, huh? What is this, baseball?” she laughed at what seemed like a very silly analogy to her. She immediately conjured up a crazy vision of skimpy uniforms where everyone wore the number 69 and a highly animated manager walking out to the pitcher's mound to give him a piece of his mind. Even the word “mound” made her chuckle, despite trying to remain serious.

  Cap's face was painted with confusion at first, but then she witnessed the triumphant return of the dimples. “Oh, no, that is actually a phrase you hear all the time in the lifestyle! Just means one partner wants to play and the other doesn't, but goes ahead with it anyway to make the other partner happy. It's generally a frowned-upon thing.”

  “You swingers sure have a colorful lingo,” Leah observed. She was still mulling his suggestion over. They'd had such a wonderful night
and the sun was so glorious as it streamed through the huge window overlooking the still busy street; it now enraptured the entire bed in its golden embrace. Now did not seem the time for boat rocking.

  She couldn't think of a better solution to their dilemma other than her preferred one of him staying home with the dogs. But it was pretty unfair to ask him to miss out on seeing his friends. Not to mention the fact that she rather liked the idea of everyone seeing him with her afterward, presenting a unified front and letting everyone bask in their coupledom.

  “So, what about tonight? Are we on the same page?” he asked, intuiting that she had reached a decision.

  “Okay,” she agreed. “Same room, if we play, soft swap, and no taking one for the team.” Her lips curled into a devious smile as she tossed out her newly-acquired swinger vocabulary.

  “Got it,” he said. He quickly glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand on his side of the bed then turned back to Leah with an even more devious grin. “Looks like we only have about an hour and a half till we need to leave. We better make the most of it!” And with that he pulled the sheet up like a cape around him and descended up on her like a superhero.

  Casey looked radiant in her red velvet gown, her hair done up in an elegant French twist and just the right contouring with her makeup so that she looked like a starlet from days gone by. Her vivacious personality was flowing in abundance as she stood giving directions to her team at the check-in table when Leah and Cap approached. They had arrived early as Leah needed to make sure everything was set up on time and ran smoothly. Casey was instructing her team about the charity event for the evening, which was a silent auction to benefit the American Heart Association. Two huge tables with gift baskets and gift cards from local businesses flanked the hallway leading to the ballroom. Leah wondered if the businesses had any idea they were supporting a swinger group when they agreed to donate. She assumed not.

  The woman did a double-take when she saw that Leah was accompanied by Cap. “Well, my my my!” her melodic voice burst forth. “I didn't know you two had become so well-acquainted!”

  Leah was surprised. She assumed that Rhonda would have told Casey all about the incident at the New Year's Eve party. But maybe Rhonda hadn't noticed? Leah wondered. She had slipped off with two other men early in the evening and Leah didn't see her after that. I guess I just assumed people talked about it, though. Maybe they really are that discreet?

  “Yes, ma'am,” Cap nodded at her. “I've corrupted this sweet little thing and now there's no turning back!” He laughed deviously but his youthful dimples detracted from his ability to appear devilish.

  “Well, that's just wonderful, Chris! Now you listen here, darling,” she said, drawing him closer to her by pulling his tie, “Leah is one of the most lovely people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. You better be good to her or I'm going to make you regret it!” Casey had the magical power to make her voice sound like a choir of angels even when she was delivering a threat.

  “But of course!” Cap grinned. He wondered off to chat with a man that Leah recognized from the New Year's Eve party and Leah went over last minute details with Casey.

  Hours later, the party was wrapping up and more and more guests were vanishing from the ballroom and slipping into the elevators to make their way upstairs. Sometimes the elevator carried a man with two women, looking like a tyke on Christmas morning poised to open gifts from Santa. Sometimes it was two couples, the women chatting and the men trying to avoid looking nervous. Sometimes it was just one couple and they were silent and dejected, revealing they had struck out for the evening and were returning to their room alone.

  “My feet are killing me,” Leah sighed as she pulled her strappy silver heels from her feet. “I don't know why I think I can walk around all night on shoes like that!”

  “Because they're sexy,” Cap answered. “You know men really do appreciate the great lengths you women go to to lure us in, right?”

  She had been watching him all night. He was a politician, flitting back and forth between different groups, shaking the hands of men, kissing women on the cheek, certainly not the normal lifestyle-friendly greetings she had seen him give at Casey's parties in the past. He had practically abstained from drinking, toting around the requisite glass of booze for a couple of hours and only sipping from it periodically. Now they were alone in the ballroom, the last of the kitchen crew had cleared away every bottle, glass, tablecloth and centerpiece. The D.J. had disassembled his equipment and packed it away. Even Casey had left the building. They were the only two who remained.

  He was studying her face. “Everything okay?” he asked when he detected a faint whiff of her misgivings.

  She sighed, glanced down at the floor and then back up into his eyes. “Besides my feet, you mean?” She watched him nod and look back expectantly. “I guess I'm just a little nervous about going upstairs,” she admitted.

  “We don't have to,” he offered. “We could just go back to my place if you'd rather.”

  She considered his offer and weighed her choices against each other. She imagined the great scales of justice, but with the bowls full of “going back to Cap's place” and “going upstairs” balancing each other out. “I guess we can go upstairs,” she decided before she waited to see the final verdict. She hooked the straps of her heels under her index finger and followed him to the elevator.

  The entire third floor was full of Casey's Group guests. Someone was having an after-party in the suite at the end of the hall. The door was open and Leah could hear music and noise wafting down the hallway to the elevators. The professional side of her cringed. This was exactly the sort of thing that guests called the front desk to complain about. Suddenly over the thumping bass and commotion, she heard a woman's voice shouting. She unclasped her hand from Cap's and sprinted down the hall, her stocking-clad feet pressing into the plush navy carpet with each step.

  Her heart was pounding, more from anxiousness than from the impromptu jog. She reached the open door and peered past the door frame to assess the situation before going inside. She stood there for a moment getting her bearings, almost enough time for Cap to catch up with her.

  There was a group of eight or ten people on the “living room” side of the suite, huddled on the couches and the two chairs, a couple of people standing. The shouting had come from a short, heavyset woman with shoulder-length layered brown hair and feathered bangs that poofed up and were underscored by a layer of fringe resting against her forehead, a hairstyle Leah couldn't recall seeing since she was a little girl. The woman's face was flushed and she was visibly trembling. In the corner there was a man being restrained by two other men who were speaking to him in calm, low voices.

  “What's going on here?” Leah asked, reaching deep within her throat to bring out the most authoritative voice she could muster.

  “Just stay out of it, sweetheart,” said a man from the living room side.”

  “I'm the assistant general manager of this property, and I need to know what is going on.” She looked around the room at the faces that suddenly looked pale and sober. She saw that Cap remained in the doorway, his eyes glued to her, still watching out for her but refusing to interfere unless necessary.

  A crowd of people gathered near the entrance to the bedroom of the suite cleared to make a path for Leah to follow. A mass of voices all giving snippets of the story began to rise up all around her as she made her way into the bedroom. There was another man seated on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, which were covered with blood. A woman emerged from the bathroom carrying a wet towel which she handed to him.

  “What happened here?” Leah demanded, her voice becoming more insistent, yet still calm.

  “That guy out there punched my husband,” the woman with the towel whined. She began dabbing the towel against the man's cheekbone and Leah watched it turn dark with blood.

  “Why did he punch him?” Leah continued her interview.

  “Because I didn't
want to play with him and my husband told him no, we weren't going to play. He's pretty drunk,” she answered matter-of-factly.

  “Do I need to call an ambulance?” she asked the man, who was lucid and still seething with anger. He looked up at her and shook his head but didn't seem to want to emit any sound.

  “Alright, I'll be back in a moment,” she stated and then went back to the living area to talk to the alleged perpetrator. The men who had contained him had wrestled him into a chair and he sat rocking back and forth, his eyes bloodshot and his skin mottled with rage.

  “What's your name?” Leah asked him, trying to get a quick read on his level of inebriation.

  “Jason,” he said, only slightly slurred.

  Leah shouted to Cap across the room, “Call security for me, would you?” He nodded and walked over to the phone that rested on a table near the door.

  Leah spent the next fifteen minutes interviewing the witnesses and piecing together what had happened and by the time she had finished, two security guards arrived to take over. On the way to the truck, she relayed the entire story to Cap, “Earlier in the night, Jason and his girlfriend Amanda had approached Dan and Trina to ask if they'd like to hang out after the party, apparently sweetening the deal with the promise of Jell-O shots. Trina was quick to say no, but later in the evening, Dan was chatting with and dancing with Jason's girlfriend as if he was interested in getting to know her better. Jason had gotten the false impression that they'd be hooking up, which was apparently corroborated an hour or so later when Dan went with Amanda to her room to partake in the jello shots.

  “Then Jason found Trina hanging out with some other people and told her that Dan had apparently changed his mind and asked if she was ready to go upstairs. Trina was mad and sent her friend Heather to retrieve Dan from their room. Well, I guess Jason was pissed and Dan was pissed, but he left their room and then they all reunited at the after party. By that time, Jason had finished the rest of the Jell-O shots and that's when it all went down. Heather was the one shouting for them to knock it off and I heard her when I stepped off the elevator.”