“Okay, you got me there. Drink away. As a matter of fact, let me get you another glass. That’s a double fisting kind of week,” I sympathized.
“Who’s being double fisted?” Izzy asked coming out of her bedroom, looking directly at Quinn.
Isabella lived in a two bedroom condo, which was very sleek, but cozy, so while she was in her bedroom it wasn’t difficult to overhear us from the kitchen. It consisted of one bedroom with an adjoining bathroom. The kitchen and living room were separated by the kitchen bar where we were currently sitting at. She had a small extra bedroom that she turned into an office space, and while the condo didn’t have many rooms, the rooms it did have were spacious. The décor was very classy and reflected Izzy’s tasteful nature. Her bedroom, however, was where you could see the real Iz. It was the only room that didn’t have matching furniture and was cozy chaos.
“What the hell? Why are you looking at me when you ask a question like that?” Q countered, clearly offended, but not really.
Izzy rolled her eyes. “Oh, puhleeease…because I know for a fact Ace isn’t getting fisted, doubly or otherwise.”
I jumped up off the barstool as I objected, “Hey? How do you know I’m not getting fisted?”
Izzy raised one perfectly arched brow. “Because in the two years that I have known you, every sex story you’ve ever shared has been rated PG-13, that’s how,” she retorted.
“Really, PG-13?’ I asked incredulously. “I’ll have you know, while there have only been two or three, nudity has been involved in all of my sexual encounters, so that calls for at least an R rating.” PG-13 my ass.
“It’s 2018, Ace, you can damn near find nudity on Sesame Street. You’re sex life is so rated PG-13,” Quinn quipped as Isabella nodded her agreement while she started putting away the wine.
“Okay, Q, finish drinking that glass up so we can go.” Izzy finished off her glass, prompting Quinn to do the same.
I side eyed the whores when I said, “Fine, but I’ll have you judgmental barracudas know that I can get kinky. I just haven’t met a man who brings it out in me yet.” Little did they know, I longed to get kinked on, and just like most women who have ever read a romance novel, I wanted that sexually perfect guy to do it. But not all guys were cut out to be sexual superheroes. There was an art to being forceful and talking dirty in bed. If the guy was playing a part, it could end in a fit of giggles and an orgasmless disaster. Trust me, I unfortunately knew from experience.
“Of course, Ace, we know you’re a sexual dynamo. I’m completely jealous.” Izzy deadpanned as she delivered that little gem of sarcasm. She did even bother looking at me as she looked around her condo making sure everything was good to go before we left.
“Fuck the both of you.”
Q started laughing. “Okay, okay. Let’s make a deal then…”
“I’m all ears,” Iz said, already agreeing.
“Sweet Jesus,” I groaned.
“I propose that whoever gets lucky tonight has to take the guy home, or wherever, and live out one or all of her sexual fantasies.” Quinn smiled, all proud of her insane idea. Take note folks, this is the sort of thing that happens when you hang out with insane people; they offer up insane ideas.
Izzy was quick with her response, “I’m down, but I’ll need to bring a bigger purse for all my props.”
“Seriously, Iz? You’re supposed to be the sweet, quiet one, and Quinn, no.” Someone needed to stop this crazy train.
Looking at me, Izzy put her hands on her hips. “I am sweet and quiet, but for the love of God, Avery, I don’t care what any woman says, sometimes you need to be straight up fucked until you can’t move.” I looked over to see Q nodding in agreement. “And any woman who says otherwise or claims she doesn’t have any unfulfilled fantasies is a liar.”
“Except the Amish, I think the Amish are legit in their sexual beliefs,” Q chimed in.
“Even the Amish, Quinn, even the Amish,” Izzy affirmed.
I knew the girls were kidding, but deep down in a way they weren’t. We all had fantasies-whether they were sexual or romantic-and fear was the only reason we rarely voiced them and made them real. Nothing was scarier than laying your soul bare and telling your partner what you wanted sexually or romantically from them. What if they laughed at you? Or worse, thought you were a perverted sicko? Once you say something, you can’t take it back and then every time you went to have sex, that unfulfilled fantasy would be hovering over the both of you. It was just easier to get out your vibrator, close your eyes and keep that shit to yourself.
“You guys are nuts and do I have a choice?” I found myself agreeing. Apparently I was insane right along with the both of them.
Quinn smiled her war-ending smile. “Should we slutty ourselves up some more?” she asked mischievously.
Quinn was wearing her hair up in a casual clipped up look, which looked stylish with her blue peek-a-boos showing and her spiky bangs faced every direction giving her a natural look. She had kept her makeup minimal also. She donned some light eye shadow, eyeliner and mascara, she left her lips bare. She hated reapplying lipstick and she claimed it just made a mess if she got lucky, which it did. Thank God for lip stain lipstick. She was wearing a bright blue, low cut blouse that hung in a cowl neck fashion with a plain black skirt that stopped at the middle of her thighs. The outfit was completed with a pair of five inch black opened toed heels. As always, she looked stunning.
Now, where Quinn was sweetly stunning, Isabella was something else altogether. Izzy was beautiful from the dark brown hair on her head to the toes on her feet. Iz was 5’4” and had a face created by God and a body created by Satan. She had unusual amber colored eyes that sat on a perfectly proportioned face. Her brows were long and plucked to perfection, her slender nose was perfectly centered and her lips were soft and full. She had high cheekbones with a smooth, light complexion. Her dark, brown hair stopped at her shoulder blades and curled into striking ringlets if she didn’t take the time to dry and straighten her hair. Isabella was also a runner. She swears by cardio, giving running credit for her figure and what a figure it was. Izzy was built like a real life Jessica Rabbit.
She was dressed in a white, untucked button up men’s style shirt with a pair of black dress slacks. She had a pair of black four inch heels. She created a smoky eye with brown and black shades, dusted her cheeks with a little blush and topped off her look with a light mocha lipstick shade. She opted for straightening her hair and wore it straight down. It was parted down the middle and fell perfectly out of her face. Her beauty was accentuated by the fact that she was quiet until you got to know her well. She gave off a mysterious, untouchable vibe. She brought out that protective side of you and I felt sorry for the man that would one day land her. He better be super secure and confident because a wimp just wouldn’t do.
“Unless The Hooker and Her Client are in the fantasy lineup for tonight, we look fine,” I reassured them.
Quinn leaned in closer to me. “Awe, come on Ace…you don’t want your first john of the night pulling your hair telling you what a good little whore you are?”
Isabella and I started laughing. “Depends, did he pay for that right? You can’t just call me a whore for free, you know.”
“Okay you sexual degenerates, time to go,” Izzy announced.
Quinn and I placed the barstools back underneath the bar lip and gathered our purses. Once we all made sure our purses contained all our essentials, we headed out.
As we waited on the sidewalk for our cab, I realized how much I was actually looking forward to this night. We hadn’t had a girls’ night out in months, and whether single or in a relationship, all girls needed girl time with their friends. No matter how devoted a mother, wife, sister or daughter you may be, we all needed some time to be ourselves. And I knew, without a doubt, I could always be myself around Isabella and Quinn. And despite the crazy living out sexual fantasy situation I find myself in tonight, I would never judge Izzy or Q either….except wh
en they karaoke’d, we really sucked at karaoke.
Nicholas~
I apparently have become lazier than I had realized, because the Raider pajama pants that I put on when I got out of the shower were so comfortable, I seriously wondered why I couldn’t just wear them to Xavier’s. I mean, hell, it was Chase who was on a mission to get laid, not me. Granted, I’d have to put on a shirt and a pair of shoes, but slippers were shoes right?
My phone rang as I was pulling out a pair of dark blue, faded jeans. Placing it on the dresser, I hit the speaker button. “Savage.”
“Just making sure you’re still meeting us and I don’t have to send Julian over there to drag you out,” Chase’s voice echoed back through the speaker.
“Sending Julian because you know you can’t do the job yourself?” I pulled out the drawer containing my exciting array of socks.
“I just don’t want to chance you getting in a lucky shot and damaging this perfect face of mine, thus ruining tonight’s mission.”
“Dude, your mission for tonight, not mine,” I clarified. It was killing me to change from my pajama pants to my jeans. Style versus comfort sucked.
“Yeah, right, like you’re not going to bite if some hot, willing woman comes on to you? Sell that shit to someone who hasn’t known you since kindergarten.”
I picked my phone up and took Chase off speaker phone, putting it up to my ear, as I headed towards my closet to pick out an appropriate shirt. “Having some drinks and winding down with you and Julian is a good enough time for me.”
“Awe, you’re so sweet. I love you, too, but do me a favor and leave your vagina and copy of your Notebook DVD at home tonight, along with your man purse,” Chase ridiculed.
“Laugh all you want asshole, but more than once, you’ve cried on my shoulder,” I reminded my dear friend.
“We were six years old, fuckface.”
“That doesn’t change the facts, jackhole.” I finally found a plain black shirt that would work for tonight. “Are you done peer pressuring me? I need to finish getting ready, you know, so that I can meet my friends at this new fucked up place called Xavier’s because my loser friend needs my help to get laid.”
Chase laughed into the phone. “You’re going to be thanking me later when you’re blowing your load into some kinky piece.”
“Bye, Chase,” I finished as I hung up on him.
I decided to let my hair self-dry, and even though I had some styling products, I only used them when I had to actually do something with my hair to look presentable for charity events, etc. For the most part I was a low maintenance kind of man. We all were. Growing up like we did, there wasn’t extra money for styling products and whatever. Besides, while I agree men should make the effort to clean up a bit once in a while, I wasn’t a fan of men man-scaping and getting facials and pedicures and shit like that. Men are supposed to be fucking men, not act like we’re goddamn women. Word to the wise ladies, if your man takes longer to get ready than you do, you have a girlfriend, not a boyfriend…just saying.
Once I finished dressing, I went into the kitchen for a quick bite. I didn’t want to start drinking on an empty stomach, and while I can hold my alcohol, I didn’t want to get shit faced drunk. I decided to prepare a couple of simple ham sandwiches. Hopefully Xavier’s had a small appetizer menu if I got hungry later.
My kitchen was state of the art, complete with all stainless steel appliances. I didn’t cook much since I didn’t have anyone to cook for, but whenever Julian, Chase and I hung out at my place Julian put my kitchen to good use. With his mother being the piece of shit she was, Julian learned early on how to cook for himself. And let me tell you, the dude can cook.
I lived in the penthouse suite of an apartment building that was owned by SMA. I was only a few blocks away from our home office and that made life super convenient. However, we each had an adjoining room to our offices where we would sometimes shower and sleep if we were knee deep in a project. The office spare rooms were identical in looking like an open floor loft. It was one room with a small closet, full size bed, a toilet, sink area and a closed in shower. There was barely room enough for a bedside night stand, but since we didn’t use the room often, comfort wasn’t that big of a deal. And to be honest, it was still more spacious than some peoples’ homes.
My penthouse was nothing elaborate. It looked like any hundreds of penthouses you see in Home & Garden magazines. The best thing about the place though, was the view from any window. It looked out over San Jose and was absolutely calming. I paid an interior decorator to make it look how it looked and the only room that had any personal touches to it was my bedroom.
My dressers and night stands were decorated with framed pictures of me, Julian and Chase. Some had Kane, Chase’s younger brother, in them and a couple had Chase’s mom in them. There was a family portrait with all five of us hanging on the wall near my door. I could see it from my bed and I always glanced at it when I left my room. It was one of the reasons I never brought a woman to my house. My house was for family only. While Julian and Chase each had an extra spare bedroom for when any of us had to crash, my house was the only one that actually had a separate room that each belonged to Chase and Julian. I told them each that since this was an SMA building, they had a right to this penthouse just as much as I did.
Chase lived in an upscale condo. There were three condos to a section and Chase had purchased an entire section and remodeled it to one three story condo years ago. He made the bottom floor into a gym, complete with full kitchen for whatever protein smoothie you desired, a bathroom, a steam room and small boxing ring. The second floor made up his home office. He kept the kitchen also and added an entertainment area with a big screen T.V., surround sound, and X-Box, and a cabinet full of games and DVDs. It came with a bathroom and the office portion was almost identical to his office at SMA, except for the personal pictures of his mom and brother he had aligning his bookshelves and desk. He had some of him with Julian and me also. The top floor made up his actual living space and the only way into his house was to walk up the flight of steps to the third floor.
Julian was the only one of us that chose to live in a house based neighborhood. He lived two blocks away from Chase’s mom and even though he claimed he just like the area, I’ve always felt like he chose that particular house to be close to Teresa. We can never repay her for all the things she did for us that she didn’t even realize. Julian’s home was very simple, except for the basement. The house originally didn’t come with a basement, but Julian had them lift the entire house to put one in. It was expensive but worth it for his piece of mind. While the house was an average three bedroom, two baths, kitchen, living room, dining room, two garage set up, his basement was a home gym worthy of professional boxers or MMA fighters. Julian had a lot of violent demons and often worked out his anger or anxiety in his basement. It’s been over six years since he’s gotten into a fight, but you could never be too sure what will set him off, so we were grateful for his basement. Prison was always a very real possibility with Julian.
As I was finishing up my second sandwich, my mind wandered back to William Spillner. He’s been with us six years and did a well enough job, so I was baffled by his recent behavior. At least, I never heard of anything inappropriate or incompetent before recently. It hadn’t been until this last year or so that we started hearing rumors of him speaking freely around the work place. And supposedly, he limited his locker room talk to an audience of men, but it was still not what SMA was trying to represent.
Not to mention, any one of our hundreds of female employees could always come walking around the corner and come upon Spillner flapping his gums. And regardless of both Julian’s and my mothers, we had the upmost respect for women, thanks to Teresa. We worked hard to make sure our female employees were treated fairly and generously. No single mothers who worked for SMA would ever struggle to feed their children.
And, yes, Chase was happily single and indulged in one night stands, but he nev
er mistreated the women he chose to be with. He was always honest about his intentions, and with the exception of a couple psychos who he had the misfortune of coming across, he always parted amicably with the women he spent time with.
Julian was a little more discrete with his conquests. I knew he didn’t take women home and preferred hotels like I did, but he never told stories. And the only time we’d know when he got laid was if we caught him wearing his clothes from the night before.
I didn’t brag, but neither did I keep it a secret. If it came up, it came up…if it didn’t, it didn’t. I loved women physically, and I loved sex, but my first and true love was SMA. I respected women from a clinical viewpoint. I knew what they could be at their best and I knew what they could be at their worst, and while I respected their struggles, I didn’t trust women on a personal level. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why.
But whatever issues with women Chase, Julian and I may have had, they didn’t clear the way for Spillner to be an asshole. I just couldn’t figure out what had changed to make him think he could act like a fuckwad at work. It wasn’t that he’d be hard to replace, we had a lot of talented people at SMA and I’m sure Ian could suggest at least five that could take Spillner’s place. But we just didn’t want to fire him unjustly, and contrary to what people believed; it wasn’t that easy to fire a person without solid just cause and rumors of him saying random, inappropriate things around the office wasn’t solid enough.
It didn’t help that our H.R. Manager did an investigation and came up with nothing. Cynthia came to us a little over two years ago and has been great at her job, so we had no reason to doubt her inquiry results. Between her investigation and Ian not coming across anything yet, his behavior was stellar on paper, but we knew in our gut something was off about him.
But I suppose what bothered me most about this situation was that, if he was acting inappropriate with our female employees, none of those women felt comfortable enough coming forward, and I wanted to believe that we had created a work place that encouraged a work culture where employees felt safe enough to speak up against any injustices they may feel. That bothered me because while Julian, Chase and I worked hard to be where we are now, we would never place money and status above treating people fairly and doing the right thing.
Catching Avery Page 3
