Slippery When Wet (A Romance Novella): Maybe Mandy 3

by Chris Genovese

  “I’m fantastic,” I said. “Let’s sandwich him. You take the front.”

  Porter moved to the front of her friend. I still didn’t know his name, and now that I think of it, he seemed older than the rest of us, only slightly, and I wondered if he was pulling a Jill, crashing the party of a younger class.

  Fuck it. If he’s trying to get some younger pussy, let him have it.

  With Porter’s ass grinding against the man’s crotch, I moved around behind him, rested my fingertips on his hips, and moved in close. We dry humped him from left to right, swinging back and forth like a pendulum, as Rumpshaker by Wreckx-N-Effect began to play. To the sound of that familiar saxophone, the crowd went wild, and then we were at the center of the pack as the rest of the attendees drunkenly made their way onto the dance floor.

  Jill and Ben danced to the right of us. Rose and Nick to the left of us. Nick had his hands up over his head while Rose bent at the waist, rubbing her ass up against him like they were in a real club. It was getting hot and heavy on the dance floor.

  A flashback of Cancun hit me, and I remembered Valentino behind me, feeling me up, one hand on my tit while the other found the crease between my pussy and my thigh. Fuck, I missed Valentino. And I was seriously buzzing. The alcohol had hit me hard. Thoughts of my Latin fling made me wet and I realized I was rubbing against this guy too hard, practically trying to get off up against him.

  What’s wrong with me?

  “What’s your name?” I asked into his ear.

  “What?!” he shouted.

  “Your name!”

  “What?!”

  It was of no use. The music was too loud. So I kept dancing. Then I was spinning and dancing some more, grinding up against Ben on the dance floor with Jill behind me. Then Porter and I were dancing with our arms around each other’s neck, laughing our way through the lyrics of H-Town’s Knockin’ Da Boots.

  Loser by Beck came on and the whole party sang along.

  I met old friends I couldn’t remember, old enemies I could, the hot studs who weren’t hot anymore, the popular bitches who were single mothers desperate for attention now, the guys once considered nerds who were the leaders of industry now, and quite a few people who hadn’t changed a bit.

  I’d just finished another drink through a stirrer straw and was leaned up against a wall, trying to steady myself, watching my friends continue to lose themselves in the hits of the ‘90s, when I met Wesley.

  “You look exhausted,” his voice called out from behind me.

  I turned to see a good looking guy with blond hair combed to the side. He wore an elegant tan suit and polished brown shoes that reflected the laser lights shooting down from the ceiling.

  “I am, can you tell the maintenance crew that my air conditioner isn’t as cold as I think it should be,” I said.

  “I can tell them if you want,” he said. “I guess.”

  “Don’t you work here?”

  He laughed.

  “You think I work in this hotel?”

  Is he fucking with me? This conversation is old already

  “I don’t work here,” he added. “But if you’d like, I can tell them to fix your AC.”

  I leaned against the wall with my other shoulder so I could focus on him.

  “If you don’t work here, then why are you dressed in the hotel uniform?”

  He scoffed and held up a sleeve of his suit.

  “This is a five-hundred dollar suit,” he said.

  He laughed like he couldn’t believe what kind of idiot I was for dissing his threads.

  Dissing his threads? What am I, fifteen again? Hell, I didn’t even say that back then. Where did that shit come from?

  I ran my fingers over the sleeve of his suit.

  “It is a nice suit,” I said. “But next time you should call the hotel in advance and make sure it’s not Tan-Suit-Thursday.”

  “It’s Friday,” he reminded me.

  Why am I being such a bitch to this guy? I don’t know but it’s fun and he seems to like it. I’ve been dicked around so much lately and this is genuinely amusing.

  “You don’t remember me at all, do you?” he asked.

  I instantly felt like shit. I’d assumed he was some sort of creeper and now it seemed we were classmates and I was a total asshat.

  “It’s not you,” I told him. “I’m horrible tonight. You’d think I went to an entirely different school. Every person I see is a fucking mystery to me.”

  “Well you don’t sound like the old Mandy I knew,” he said.

  “And how did that Mandy sound?” I asked, trying to decide whether or not I should be offended.

  “A little insecure. Worried about homework. But a powerhouse when on the stage.”

  The stage. He was in the drama club. I tried to remember the face of each person in the club and I still couldn’t put my finger on this one.

  “You were in the drama club?” I asked.

  “Not quite. But I was there for most of the practices and all the shows. My name’s Wesley, but you wouldn’t know me by that. They called me Tommy Two-Tone.”

  “The kid who forgot the lyrics during Oliver and puked on the side of the stage?”

  “No,” he laughed. “That was Matty Blue Tone. So many Tones, so little time.”

  “Wait a minute…” it was coming to me. “Tommy on the piano.”

  He held up his hand in a pistol shape and aimed it at my face, pretending to pull the trigger.

  “You got it,” he said.

  This guy didn’t look anything like the Linus-like classmate I remembered. He’d been one of the kids in school who didn’t stand out, probably a lot like me, but now…now he was super cute, kind of sexy in a well-groomed, 007(ish) kind of way.

  “Wesley’s my last name. Tommy Wesley. I joined the U.S. Marines right out of high school and you know how it is in the military…”

  I didn’t know how it was in the military. I’d never joined.

  “You’re kind of forced to adopt your last name as your first name, so Wesley kind of stuck.”

  “Wesley the soldier,” I said as I gripped his arm and squeezed.

  He didn’t miss a beat and flexed his arm so I could feel the massive bicep beneath the suit.

  “So I know we didn’t know each other very well,” he said, “But it’s so nice to see a familiar face. You were beautiful back then and you’re the most attractive woman in here tonight. I think you might be the one person in here who’s gotten better since high school.”

  Wow. I’m so going to fuck you tonight.

  There it was, my Maybe Mandy meter was on full alert. This guy better be packing some serious heat because I was aching and needed a fix. I hadn’t been fucked in months. I’d come close with Braden Bot, but could never seem to go all the way. Not without ripping my body in half on that one.

  My MILF-loving towel boy hadn’t done the trick either.

  “Mandy?” Wesley said.

  I realized I’d been staring down at his cock, trying to see the outline, but his jacket covered too much. He must’ve thought I was sad or down. His hand touched my chin and he raised my face gently.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing at all. Just thinking. It’s strange how many people come and go in your life. Some leave a mark back then and some show up to leave a mark now.”

  “Am I leaving a mark?” he asked.

  “I hope you will. But not too obvious. Nothing on my neck.”

  That was the switch that set the rest of the night in motion. I took Wesley out onto the dance floor where we forgot about everyone else around and focused on each other. At one point I saw Porter making out with her mystery dance partner. Jill disappeared, probably to fuck some younger guy upstairs in her room, and Ben was busy talking to someone at our table.

  I dragged Wesley over to the table. There was no way I was letting go of the guy. He was going to be my fuck buddy whether he knew it yet or not. As we plopped down at the table and
Wesley ordered us another round of drinks, I saw who Ben was sitting with.

  Michael. Holy shit. My ex-boyfriend, who’d apparently tried to feel up Ben back in our heyday, was sitting next to Ben. Michael looked much skinnier than he had when I’d known him. He was clean and fit and…gay. The way he and Ben laughed together, I knew there was some sort of spark there.

  “Mandy,” Ben said with the goofiest grin I’d ever seen. He was definitely loving this. “Remember Michael?”

  “Oh my God, Michael. How could I forget?” I said as I reached out and took his hand, rubbing it to say hello.

  “He’s not very forgettable, is he?” Ben added, really piling it on.

  “Mandy, so good to see you,” he said, and his voice sounded gay. Too gay. Like waaaaay gay.

  I’ve never understood that. I know some guys sound like that their whole life and being gay is not by choice, you either like the opposite sex or you like the same sex, but what I’ve never understood is how someone can go from being a total dude, like bumping chest and talking about cars and football, to suddenly having a whiny voice with a lisp. That’s fucking ridiculous. There’s gay and then there’s Fab-u-lous. Michael was somewhere in-between teetering on the fab-u-lous side.

  I went from remembering the time he ate me out in the sauna at the M.I.C.A. to thinking of him giving Ben a blowjob. So weird.

  “So Michael’s gay,” Ben announced.

  Michael laughed and slapped Ben on the shoulder playfully.

  “You know who else is gay?” Ben leaned closer and whispered.

  He threw a thumb behind him, in the direction of the big black woman Porter had pointed at earlier.

  “Remember Charles? Voted Most Popular Charles?” he asked.

  I did remember Charles. In fact, he used to work with Jill and me at the Fun Escape, and he used to gross us out with stories about all the dirty deeds he did with his girlfriend. He used to talk about fucking her doggy style and her riding him in his car and eating her pussy and the first time he put it in her ass…oh. Oh yeah. He’d gotten kind of excited about that part.

  Holy shit. How naïve am I? How do I not notice this stuff?

  I glanced over at Charles again, who appeared to be having the time of his life, laughing out loud with his group of senior superlative winners. Tracey, voted Most Likely to Succeed looked great. Patrick, voted Most School Spirited was a mess, all disheveled and raggedy. The two voted Best Looking sat together. They both looked miserable. The other people all seemed pretty much the same. That was the “Who’s Who” of our graduating class. I was happy to be sitting with my crew and Tommy Two-Tone, better known as Wesley the Hottie.

  “Have you seen June Bug yet?” I asked Ben, trying to make him uncomfortable sitting next to Michael.

  Not that it would. Nothing seemed to make Ben uncomfortable.

  “June won’t be here,” he said. “She hated everyone in this class. She’s gay too.”

  “She is? What the hell? Did gay go viral as soon as we graduated?” I asked.

  Everyone laughed.

  “She was gay even when we were together. Us fucking was purely experimental. Kind of like you and…”

  He nodded his head toward Michael.

  “Okay now,” Michael said. “That’s just mean.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ben said, flirting with my ex. “I had to say it.”

  “June had a crush on Jill,” Ben said. “And Porter.”

  “And me?” I asked, feeling oddly left out.

  “No, not you,” he said.

  “You’re such a bitch,” I teased.

  Rose and Nick returned to the table. Rose handed me her business card and reached down to hug my neck.

  “We’re getting out of here,” Rose said. “That dance kind of got us worked up if you know what I mean? Take my card just in case I don’t bump into you again before we all leave.”

  I gazed at Nick and saw his dick pressing against his slacks. He was at least half hard and I envied Rose at that moment. She was about to get pounded in every good way of the word.

  “We should get out of here too,” I heard in my ear, very close to my ear, like I-want-to-fuck-you-Mandy close to my ear.

  You know how sometimes you get that twitch in your pussy? Kind of like a spark? Like someone flicked your clit unexpectedly? That happened. Wesley was a clit flicker.

  Oh yeah! I do believe Mandy created another term. Clit Flicker.

  Little Webster, I’ll need you to add that to the dictionary.

  Clit Flicker (noun): 1. A person who unknowingly lights your pussy up like it’s a fucking candelabra. 2. One who is able to make your knees knock together and your pussy flinch like someone jumped out from around a dark corner and yelled “Boo.”

  Example sentence: Hold onto your purse and don’t make it too obvious. The Clit Flicker is making his way toward you.

  He’d said WE should get out of here. We was the key word there. He wanted to leave this shindig with me and I was totally down for that.

  I leaned back against him, resting the back of my head on his shoulder, and turned my face to meet his, our mouths inches apart. His breath brushed my lips and I opened my mouth to allow some of it in. I inhaled, feeling that part of him fill my lungs. My legs opened involuntarily. Every part of me wanted to fuck.

  “Where will WE go?” I asked.

  “I want to show you my business.”

  Um, okay, I’ve heard men call their junk Pedro and even Charlie and The Dong. But Business? He really considers his cock The Business? He better be damn good.

  “Your business?” I asked, a smile playing on my lips.

  “I own a company here in town. I want to take you there.”

  Well don’t I feel like a fucking idiot, lol. He really did mean HIS BUSINESS. Thank God I didn’t say what was on my mind.

  “Then take me there,” I said.

  I told the others I’d meet them later if the party was still going on when we returned, or I’d see them tomorrow if it wasn’t.

  Then I followed Wesley out to his car so he could show me his business.

  Chapter 5 – His Business

  “So what exactly is your business?” I asked as Wesley opened the door to his F-350 pickup.

  It was candy apple red, chromed out, and a striking truck. There was something I’d always liked about a pickup man.

  I put on my seat belt and Wesley walked around to the driver’s side. He threw his jacket into the back seat and started up the truck. It roared to life and the hum beneath my ass felt good.

  “Have you ever heard of a Body Wash business?”

  “Like you work at Bath & Body Works?”

  I couldn’t help it. I knew that wasn’t what he meant, but suddenly I imagined him at the front door, with a green apron on, holding a basket full of Pumpkin Scrub.

  Wesley laughed.

  “Not quite. Let me ask you, how adventurous are you?”

  Adventurous how? Like I wanna climb Mount Everest someday adventurous or I want to suck your dick while another woman sits on your face adventurous? Big difference.

  “Um, I’ll go with…seven…on the adventurous scale,” I said.

  Good going, Mandy. Seven? Seven sounded pretty damn adventurous. What if his idea of six is peeing on chicks in the shower?

  “Hmm, seven,” was all he said.

  And what the hell does that mean? Oh shit, he’s going to want to pee on me. Body wash? Wait a minute…

  “Body wash?” I asked. “Like you want me to wash your body?”

  He laughed.

  “Something like that, but not quite. Let me show you what I mean. Let’s say that I started a business where people can have a little bit of fun…for a price. It’s totally sanitary and it’s quite relaxing. It’s like yoga…or a sensual massage…only better.”

  He’d definitely piqued my interest. I, Mandy, was about to go to a body wash. I tried to think about what that actually meant. He had a business where people washed each other’s bodies?
How much of their bodies? And how did they do it?

  I imagined one of those car washes where it’s only an empty garage with hoses and soap. I saw myself being shackled up at the center, my arms and legs spread open wide, while men walked around me with those giant full-pressure water gun wand things, slapping them in their open palms. I imagined what it must feel like to have that full spray slam against my nipples and between my legs and as sick as it sounds, it kind of turned me on. I was pretty sure that wasn’t what he had in store for me though.