by Jessica Ashe
Gross.
The rest of the party almost looked tame by comparison. Almost. Guys and girls, or quite often girls and girls, drank shots from each other’s bodies without any regard to the mess they were making. I pitied the poor cleaner who had to tidy up after this bunch in the morning.
“Damn, girl, who let you walk around fully clothed?”
An arm appeared from behind me and grabbed me around the stomach. I smelt cheap beer, as he leaned in and pressed his groin against my ass.
“Get off me,” I snarled, using both hands to push his arm away.
“Alright, calm down, sweetheart. You need to get a drink into you. A stiff drink and a stiff—”
“Leave her alone, Doug,” another man said, appearing alongside me.
“Whatever, man,” Doug muttered as he disappeared.
“Sorry about him,” the man said. “Had too much to drink. Much like everyone else here. My name’s Clyde.”
I shook Clyde’s hand as if we were at a respectable business meeting instead of in the middle of a party fit for the last days of Rome.
“Nice to meet you Clyde. I’m Kristi.” He carried an air of authority and confidence about him, even though he was smaller than nearly everyone here. I knew that not all football players were big, but this guy looked more like he might be Barton’s accountant than his teammate.
“You looking for Barton?” Clyde asked. I nodded. “You his image consultant?”
“Yes,” I replied. Perhaps that was a bit of a white lie, but ‘intern’ was never a word that conveyed confidence to clients. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t; it was more out of hope than anything. You’ve arrived not a moment too soon. He’s in the kitchen making drinks.” Clyde pointed towards the far corner of the apartment.
“Thanks.”
“No, thank you. If you can get him through this night, you’re a hero in my book.”
I pushed my way through couples kissing, grinding up against each other, and doing God only knows what else, until I made my way to the kitchen.
Clyde was right; I’d come just in time.
Barton stood by the refrigerator, completely shirtless, and surrounded by a flock of eager young women, all desperate to get their faces in a selfie with the soon to be legendary quarterback. Selfies that would soon appear online.
Barton didn’t seem bothered by the attention. He smiled for the photos, and freely grabbed a handful of each girl’s ass as they posed for their photo.
“Barton Fenner?” I called out.
Barton ignored me and so did all the girls. One of them spilled her drink down Barton’s chest, and quickly started licking it off to jealous looks from all the other women.
I shuffled awkwardly, as I realized that I’d been staring at his chest for a little too long, and now some of the other women were starting to notice me. I did stand out somewhat. I wore more clothing than the five women in the kitchen combined.
Two of the women stood either side of Barton, and leaned in to lick his cheeks, while another girl took a photo. This is what I had to deal with. This was the man I had to keep under control.
Barton wasn’t the type of man who would be bossed around by an intern. Or anyone for that matter. This might be a long summer.
Chapter 2
Barton
Life was good.
I’d only come in here to get another drink. I’d be lucky to get out of the kitchen without having my dick sucked dry.
I hadn’t even played a single professional game yet, and already I was being talked about as the next big thing. That kind of pressure might get to some people, but I thrived on it. Especially when the hype came with plentiful helpings of pussy.
Summer training had just started, but I had more than enough energy to party and screw in the evening, and then throw a ball around during the day. Besides, after the last quarterback got injured during training, the club kept me in bubble wrap during the day. If I wanted to stay up all night fucking some nice piece of ass, then no one was going to argue.
No one except my coach Gordon Harter, perhaps. He had a stick up his ass about me behaving myself, and not bringing the team into disrepute. The only thing that would bring the team into disrepute was having another shit season like the last one. As long as I got the job done on the field, he’d keep quiet.
Talking of getting the job done….
A blonde and brunette slid up either side of me and licked my face slowly and seductively, in a way that left their true intentions in absolutely no doubt. It wasn’t my face they wanted to be licking.
“We come as a package deal,” Blonde whispered in my ear. “Reckon you can handle both of us?”
My cock twitched in response, as Brunette ran her hand down my now sticky chest until she reached the belt of my jeans. I squeezed both their asses firmly, letting my fingers wander between their thighs as I did so. Tight and firm, just how I liked them.
There were five women in here now, and all of them were desperate to get a piece of me. Another blonde woman had better tits than this one, but taking two of them at once definitely held some appeal. I hadn’t had a threesome this week, and it seemed like a nice way to round out the night.
“You’re at the front of the line, ladies,” I replied.
Blonde lent in and kissed me firmly on the lips, opening my mouth with her tongue and sliding it inside mine. Her breasts pressed against my chest as her hand took hold of my cock—or as much of my cock that fit in her hand—and gave it a firm squeeze. She pulled her mouth away slowly, and Brunette came in to do the same. Just before Brunette kissed me, I saw a sixth woman in the room.
Standing by the doorway was a young woman trying to look a lot older than she was. She wore a tight knee-length skirt, a white blouse, and a cheap suit jacket over the top. Unlike the other women in here, she was staring at my face, not my chest or the bulge in my pants.
Brunette kissed me, but this time I kept my eyes open enough to check out this mystery woman. She folded her arms across her chest as if she was angry with me, but she couldn’t maintain eye contact and ended up looking down at the floor.
There were so many people crammed into my apartment that there was barely room to move, but this woman was giving off a serious ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibe right now. If she didn’t look so young, I’d be having serious flashbacks to my fifth grade teacher.
“Barton Fenner?” the serious looking woman asked when she saw the two ladies had finished trying to seduce me.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I replied. Not many people had to ask who I was these days. I looked away from her to address the crowd gathered around me. “Ladies, get those beautiful behinds in the living room. I’ll be with you shortly. Especially you,” I added, smacking Blonde firmly on the ass.
A chorus of disappointed groans filled the kitchen, but eventually they all piled out and left me alone with the stern looking woman. She wore her clothes well, but they weren’t expensive. Probably a college student then. A college student in a suit. That meant she was likely interning somewhere, although what company sent its interns to parties on a Friday night?
Then I remembered what Milton had promised for tonight. I can’t make it, but I’ll send you a little treat.
Here was my little treat, all wrapped up in a suit and sensible panties. I couldn’t deny that I wanted to see what lay underneath. She was a little fuller-figured than most of the girls here—although that wasn’t exactly difficult—but she carried it well.
“Did Milton send you?” I asked. “His idea of a ‘treat’ is to send me virgins to break in, but to be honest, I’m not really in the mood for going gentle tonight.”
She glared at me and tried to look angry, but the red coloring creeping into her cheeks was from embarrassment, not anger. I could always tell. I’d made enough women angry over the years—after a while you began to recognize the signs.
The girl dropped her arms to her side, but stood up straight and gave me a much better view of
her breasts. They weren’t half bad. Not bad at all. Good, in fact. Good enough to eat. There were at least twenty pairs of breasts in this apartment that were so minimally covered up that they might as well just be let out of their cage. For some reason, the only pair I wanted to see was the one not on display. What was it Mom had always said when she’d been alive? You only want what you can’t have. She might have been on to something with that one.
“No, Milton didn’t send me,” she replied. “And I’m not a… nevermind.”
I reluctantly tore my eyes from her tits and looked into hers. She was almost visibly straining not to look down at my chest, so at least we were both as bad as each other.
“So why are you here?” I asked. “Not that I’m complaining, it’s just this doesn’t look like your kind of party.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” she replied. “I’m Kristi Ward from Goodson, Mitchell, & Price.” That name rung a bell. My agent had mentioned them; they were a PR agency or something like that. “Leona Goodson sent me to keep an eye on you tonight.”
“Wow. You’re being paid to look at me. You have the best job in the world. Most women would do that job for free.”
She exhaled loudly. “This is certainly priceless, you’re right about that.”
“Do I detect a hint of sarcasm?” I asked.
“You should be detecting a lot more than a hint.”
“Well, you just haven’t seen the full package yet. If you think this chest is a work of art, you should see what I’m packing below.”
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered, but not before turning an even deeper shade of red. “I shouldn’t even be here.”
And with that, she spun on her heel and walked back into the crowd, heading for the door. The second she’d left, more women thrust themselves in front of me. Some of them I’d already kissed, but some were new. As the drink flowed, the chicks started wanting a lot more than just a kiss. Hands wandered down to my crotch, and my hand was placed between hot, eager thighs.
Who needed a threesome when I could just have all these women together? If I dropped my pants they’d all fight to be the first to suck my dick, and with a snap of the fingers they would all drop their panties and show me the goods.
Then there was Kristi. She clearly liked what was on display, but had already made up her mind that she hated me too much to drop to her knees for me. She’d probably be too stuck up to suck dick anyway. Kristi would be one of those girls who licked the tip a bit and then called it a day.
Despite all that, I pushed the group of easy lays out of the way and followed Kristi as she headed for the exit. Mom had been right, no doubt about it. I always wanted what I couldn’t have, and right now the only woman I wanted was Kristi.
Chapter 3
Kristi
Two people tried to grab me on the way out of the party, but I shook them off with ease. Just because I was below average size and a woman didn’t mean I couldn’t look after myself. Dad had been a great teacher in that respect. He’d taught me some basic self-defense techniques, and he’d taught me how to drink. Both had come in handy. Guys tried to get me drunk sometimes, but they ended up wasted way before me.
I was nearly through the door when another hand grabbed my wrist. This one I couldn’t shake off.
“Wait a minute,” Barton called out behind me.
“What for?” I asked, without turning back to face him. I didn’t trust myself not to stare at his chest, and the last thing I needed right now was to make his ego even bigger.
“I still don’t understand why you’re here.”
I turned round to face him, making sure to keep my gaze up in the air. It was so far up I ended up staring a foot above his head. Talk about overcompensating. “I told you, Leona Goodson sent me here. I’m from Goodson, Mitchell, & Price.”
“That means nothing to me, sweetheart.”
“It’s a PR firm. Your agent hired us to make you look good in the media.”
“Are you saying I don’t already look good?” Barton took a step back and waved a hand over his chest. “I can show you the rest if you want, but that would start a frenzy with all the ladies here. It’d be like throwing raw meat to a pack of lions.”
He was right. With just his chest out, he still pulled women around with him as if he had a magnetic power over them. He’d even managed to draw me in. Either I’d stepped closer to him, or vice-versa, but suddenly we were standing just a foot from each other. I could feel the heat emanating from his muscles, and I found myself wondering what it would be like to touch them.
What am I doing? This is supposed to be a business meeting.
A business meeting with half-naked women and men everywhere. At least the guy fingering the girl had disappeared, although I doubted they had gone all that far.
“Looking good in the media is not all about looks,” I explained. “Have you seen the photos of you that are doing the rounds on social media tonight?”
“I have far better things to look at than my Twitter feed,” Barton replied. I expected him to glance around at all the women desperate to get a piece of him, but instead he slowly looked me up and down, his eyes stopping uncomfortably long on my thighs and chest.
I quickly pulled my phone out of my purse before he noticed the heat spreading across my cheeks. “Look,” I said, holding the phone up after getting the pictures on the screen. “This is the earliest image. You still have your shirt on in this one and you look relatively sober.”
“It’s a good picture,” Barton replied.
“Look closer.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. She has her hand on your cock.”
“It’s over my pants,” Barton protested.
I flicked to the next image. “Here’s you without your shirt on.”
“I bet you’ve got this saved as your background.”
“You have your tongue in another woman’s mouth,” I said, exasperated.
“It’s just a kiss. PG-13 stuff really.”
“Look at your hand.”
“It’s on her cheek.”
“The other one.”
“Oh.”
“Please at least tell me you’ve washed your hands since this photo was taken?” I asked, remembering that he’d grabbed me with that same hand just a few moments ago.
“I used soap and everything.”
“Such a gentleman. The photos get worse. Do you want me to carry on?”
A flicker of what looked like embarrassment crossed his face, but disappeared just as quickly. “I think you’ve made your point. What you’re saying is that you're here to stop me having any fun?”
“No,” I snapped. “I’m here to stop you having your fun captured on camera.”
How will I even do that? I’d have to be next to him every minute, watching him kiss and fondle other women, while making sure that no one whipped out a cell phone. Not exactly how I’d imagined spending my summer. A quick bolt of jealousy hit me in the chest as I pictured him with the women here. I imagined him disappearing into the bedroom and leaving me to stand guard outside, listening to her scream as he brought her to realms of pleasure that I’d never experienced without batteries.
“Okay, fine,” Barton relented. “Stay until the end of the night and keep me out of the press.”
“No, I’m leaving. I can’t work for a client who doesn’t want my help.”
Leona would kill me if she heard that. We worked for clients we didn’t like all the time. In fact, from my short time on the job, I’d gotten the distinct impression that we only worked for clients we didn’t like.
“I’ll be on my best behavior.”
“What exactly does your best behavior entail exactly? Switching condoms between women?”
“How about I promise to ignore all the women here for the rest of the night.”
“All the women?”
“All the women except one. Now, why don’t you relax and take that jacket off?”
I sighe
d loudly, and took a step back to get some space between us. “You’re beyond helping, Mr. Fenner. Goodbye.”
Either he didn’t believe or he didn’t care, because that stupid cocky grin stayed firmly in place until I couldn’t bear to look at it any longer. I turned and walked out the door without looking back. I didn’t need to. I had a clear mental image of his chest in my mind, and if I needed a reminder, there were plenty of pictures I could look at online.
I’d have to crop out the women though. I didn’t want to see him in any compromising positions. Largely because I wanted to be in those women’s shoes.
No, best to just walk out of this apartment and forget that meeting ever happened. I’d tell Leona that Barton was nowhere to be found. She’d probably yell at me, but I was an intern, so how much trouble could I really get into? Served her right for making me take this assignment on my own.
I wasn’t qualified to look after someone like Barton by myself. Women like me did not spend time with men like Barton, whether it be work-related or social. He was trouble, and there was only so much trouble that could be covered up.
It would take more than a PR firm to keep his dirty secrets safe, especially when he created new ones each time he opened his mouth.
I walked into my apartment to be confronted by yet another shirtless man. I’d usually look away embarrassed, but after what I’d seen tonight, this modest physique didn’t even have me batting an eye.
“Kristi,” Tasha yelled as she walked out of her room. “You’re back early.”
Tasha threw the mystery man his shirt, which he quickly slipped on after zipping up his jeans. At least one of us had had some fun tonight.
“I wish I’d never left the apartment,” I muttered.
“Oh dear.” Tasha turned to face the man who looked about ready to leave. “This is Kristi, my sister. Kristi, this is… ah, who cares, he’s just leaving.”
The guy left without saying a word, which was usually the way with my sister’s hookups. A few of the lucky ones made it to breakfast, but not many. That was just fine with me. My sister’s choice in men couldn’t be much more different from mine. I liked guys who could hold a conversation. She liked men who spent more time working out than working, and tended to see conversation as an impediment to sex. She would’ve had a great time at Barton’s party.
