by Jessica Ashe
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 Three
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 d
oing 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 sighed 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.
“What was he like?” I asked Tasha, as she headed to the kitchen for ice cream. Ice cream usually meant the sex had been good; apparently orgasms burned calories and therefore she could eat it guilt-free. Not that she ever put on weight anyway. Shouldn’t sisters have similar genes? Why could she eat whatever she wanted, while I had to have tiny portions and fight the constant urge to eat all the junk food Tasha had stashed around the apartment?
“Good,” she replied. “We’d both been sexting for hours before hand, so the main event didn’t last long, but it didn’t need to.”
“How did you meet?” I asked. I didn’t really care, but if I could keep the questions coming for long enough, Tasha might just forget to ask about my evening.
“Online. He’s a highly trained FBI agent who usually works abroad. Said he was just in town for a few days on shore leave.”
“Um, I don’t think FBI agents work abroad, and they don’t get shore leave.”
“Oh,” Tasha replied excitedly. “Do you think that means he’s a spy? I’ve always wanted to fuck a spy.”
“No, I think it means he was lying to get you into bed.”
“Ah.” She paused and then shrugged her shoulders. “Whatever. An orgasm’s an orgasm. I take it from that look on your face that you didn’t get any tonight?”
“What look?” I asked, turning to look in the mirror by the doorway. Was I still bright red? Nope, I looked about normal. “I always look like this.”
“Exactly. So, as usual, no dick for you.”
“I can assure you, I dealt with a rather large dick tonight.”
Tasha’s eyes lit up. “Tell me everything,” she said, patting the seat next to her on the sofa.
I told Tasha how my boss had stood me up and made me go and meet a client by myself. We were usually under pretty strict instructions not to reveal who our clients were, but Tasha and I shared everything. In my case, that meant talking about my studies and work. In her case, it meant telling me about the men she fucked. Occasionally, she talked about her writing if she got something published and happened to feel passionate about it, but that wasn’t often.
“The party was more like an orgy,” I explained. “One dude had his fingers in a girl in front of everyone.”
“Oh please, honey, that’s not an orgy. I’ve been to orgies, and that is not one.”
“When?” I asked in shock. I thought I knew everything about my sister’s sex life, but she still managed to spring surprises on me once in awhile.
“I dated an older guy at college who took me to one. Oh, and there
was that time in Corfu.”
“I went to Corfu with you.”
“I snuck off while you were asleep. Anyway, who was this client with the rowdy party?”
“His name’s Barton Fenner. He’s a quarterback for—”
“Barton Fenner! Holy shit, you’re kidding me. You went to a Barton Fenner party and didn’t tell me?”
“It’s not like I had a lot of time to prepare. Besides, it was for work.”
“My God, I’ve been following that party on Twitter and Instagram. The more he drank the less he wore. I only stopped looking because my fuck came over. Better check for an update.”
Tasha pulled out her phone and frantically typed in search terms, but ended up disappointed.
“Nothing you like?” I asked.
“There are no new photos. I was hoping he’d end up taking out his cock. I’ve heard it’s fucking huge.”
No new photos? Had he actually listened to me? At least Leona would be pleased.
“Wait a minute,” Tasha said slowly. “You said you dealt with a massive dick tonight. Does that mean you screwed Barton Fenner?”
Tasha looked so excited for me—and maybe even a touch jealous—that for a moment I was tempted to say yes. But she’d see through the lie in an instant. Tasha had been right before—I looked just like I always did on a Friday night; tired and unsatisfied. Barton might be an arrogant ass, but there wasn’t much chance he’d leave me unsatisfied.
“No, I had to deal with him, and he’s a massive dick. Seriously, he’s a piece of shit. So arrogant and full of himself. He was shirtless the entire time I was talking to him.”
“But there’s a bad side to him as well?”
“That was….” I trailed off as I remembered who I was speaking to. “Okay, well I guess he’s your type, but not mine.”
“When was the last time you had sex, little sis?”
“You know the answer to that question.”
“Yes, I do, but sometimes I wonder whether you’ve forgotten.”
“Two years ago,” I replied. “I haven’t had sex for two years. Happy now?”
