I was
carried by the Firebird’s rhythmic swaying gait along wood plank balcony floor.
We passed a couple of people, leaning over the railing, calling down to the
poolside partiers, taking pictures, towards the end, where the two magenta Firebirds
stood. They vaguely noticed us, or, at least, noticed the woman carrying me.
Then I was
lifted up before the woman’s chest and offered to them.
“EXCUSE ME,” announced the woman holding me,
“JERRY MOUSSEAU IS ASKING FOR YOU, NEW GIRL.”
Both women
turned. Samantha straightened from the railing, looked at the woman for a
nanosecond, and then stared down at me. Her hand came flying, as if embarrassed
that I’d somehow snuck up on her, and I was deftly pinched away and pulled into
the feathers of her top. I struggled to pull my head away from her cleavage
until I was met by Brigitte, who gazed down at me affectionately.
"OH, HEY
THERE, GOOD LOOKING!" she said, giving me a big lipstick smile.
Samantha
formally introduced us. The woman with the dazzling white smile was the
Firebird team leader. I decided to ignore that Samantha was suddenly a Firebird now.
“I’ve got
to ask you something—” I implored her
“COME WITH ME,” she interrupted, as if I had any choice, “A LITTLE PRIVACY WOULD
BE NICE, OKAY?”
Brigitte
led the way back down the glass stairs, and pointing out a staff room, which we
immediately slipped inside. We were bathed in the deep lighting of the art deco
signs hanging on the brick walls. Once the door shut and filtered out the banging
shriek of music, I exclaimed breathlessly from the inside of Samantha’s hands:
“What are
you doing here? — ” and before she could respond, “—And this is crazy, but I
swear I saw my fiancée. But if she’s here, then how—”
My
diminutive voice was trampled by her interjection:
“JERRY,
WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? NO ONE HAS HEARD A THING FROM YOU ON THE PHONE. WHY DO
MAKE ME PLAY THESE GUESSING GAMES? I GET AFRAID FOR YOU, MANAGGIA…WHILE YOU ARE
DOING LINES IN SOME CELEBRITY’S BEDROOM?”
Her voice
trembled with agitation, and it caused my own reply to come out shakily:
“That’s not
how it is.” My ears were ringing. I rubbed the sides of my head before
continuing. “Anya put drug patches on me. And it was some kind of sedative and
I’m kind of fuzzy. I don’t even remember how I got here.” My brow scrunched up
as I tried to think. “There was a huge SUV and then everything went dark.”
Her expression
softened. Giant, delicate fingertips gently took my head until the edges of her
manicure were framing my vision. She angled my head up so she could peer into
my face. Checking my condition, she said:
“YOU NEED WATER
AND YOU NEED TO EAT SOMETHING WHOLESOME.”
“No, I
think I’m okay now.” That was part true; I did feel better being cradled in her
warm grasp. The firm but tender inquisition of her brown eyes was even
soothing. On the other hand, I still felt woozy, clammy, and my heartbeat was
galloping unpleasantly.
She tutted,
but now seemed slightly embarrassed by her outburst. Maybe to divert attention
from it, she strode over an area which a sign on the wall called the ‘Firebird
Café’ but was actually just a pretty standard staff kitchen facility.
I was put
down next to the sink while she searched for something. Then she ran a spurt of
water from the faucet and next thing, a tiny plastic sauce cup filled with
water was pushed into my hands. I drained it gratefully, but my skin prickled
with subconscious discomfort. I could sense her watching me.
Finishing
the water, my eyes were finally coerced up to meet hers. Stroking her neck
somewhat self-consciously, she disarmed me with the hint of a playful smile.
“YOU KNOW…I
WAS ACTUALLY HOPING FOR SOMETHING SLIGHTLY MORE ROMANTIC FROM YOU THAN THIS, FOR
THE SECOND DATE.”
Unsure how
to respond to the joke, I cleared my throat.
“We need to
backtrack a little. It’s an accident that I’m even here.”
“AND YOUR
CLOTHING—?”
A slender
finger plucked at my t-shirt-turned-baby smock, the nails hooking beneath it,
into the neckhole and one of the armholes, and stretching the fabric away from
my body, as if to check how secure it was.
“—ANOTHER
ACCIDENT?”
Hits of the
rich, dazzling perfume on her wrist lit up my senses. Meanwhile, her thumb was
casually stroking around my thighs to examine where the bottom hem of the
t-shirt was stitched up to form legholes. My heart thudded as my balls were
given a careless prod and gently swept aside, with my penis being pinned to my
belly beneath the weight of the thumb as she tugged at the legholes. I gripped
the t-shirt tight and wrung it between my hands. Her strength and ease with
which she manipulated my body made me feel like I was made of paper, flat and
easily folded between the pressure of her fingertips.
She slid a
padded bar stool over to the kitchen, sinking onto it and leaning forward until
her face came right up before me. She rested her elbow on the kitchen counter,
her head resting in her hand. Eyes never leaving my face, she let out a long
sigh. The outpouring of breath broke onto my face like a summer wind, pushed
down my throat, swelling up my lungs and stomach and made my brain hurt. I
blinked and scrunched up my face. Her lip curled with amusement.
“YOU DO
LOOK A LITTLE…NOT OKAY. ARE YOU OKAY?”
Her
fingertip probed around my tummy in a clinical way. I shifted uncomfortably.
“I’m really
glad you’re here, but, do you have a phone? I need to call my fiancée.”
She shook
her head.
“SHE WON’T ANSWER
IT. OUR PHONES ARE IN A LOCKER; WE PUT THEM IN THERE WHEN WE ARRIVED AND CHANGED.”
“So she’s
here?”
“HER IDEA,” she explained, “AND SHE
SOMEHOW HAS BRIGITTE GOING IN THIS BIG RESCUE DRAMA IN HER MIND, AND YOU ARE
THE LITTLE DAMSEL IN DISTRESS.” She inspected her nails in irritation. “I
WANTED YOU TO COME DISCREETLY, BUT NO ONE LISTENED.”
“But where
is she now?”
“THERE WAS
A DISAGREEMENT. SHE WANTS TO MAKE A BIG, LOUD SCENE, TALK TO THE AUDIO ENGINEER
AND GET ON THE SPEAKERS, AND CALL FOR YOU LIKE A MISSING CHILD.” Her brows came
together harshly. “I’M SORRY, YOUR FIANCEE IS VERY....CLEVER,
BUT I MUST SAY THAT IS RIDICULOUS. YOU DON’T NEED THE NOISE AND PUBLICITY.”
She began to
stroke my head. Because all the drugs made my skin sensitive, the grazing of
her nailtips sent tiny ripples of pleasure across my entire scalp, and my dick
began to grow heavy and strain against the bottom of my t-shirt. If she saw
my arousal she ignored it, continuing to work her nails lightly into my scalp,
moving slowly from the top of my head to the sides and back. Still, my cheeks
grew hot, and I began to take unsteady steps across the kitchen counter away from her, trying to get my head
out from under her nails.
She
reactively swept her hand around me and brought me up against her chest.
“SO SMALL,
BUT…” she said “…LET ME HOLD YOU.”
Her palm
was sliding reassuringly back and forth over my spine. Then my head was set
upon for more stroking.
The
combination of her warm body and ticklish pressure of her nails felt so good,
like her fingertips were stroking the raw nerve fibers of the pleasure center
in my brain, stirring up a tiny orgasmic effect. With extreme difficulty I
pushed to concentrate on something – anything else.
“If she’s
here,” I mumbled into her chest, “I need to find her so she knows I’m not
missing.”
“OF COURSE,”
she murmured, “YOU LOVE HER SO MUCH. YOU WANT HER SO MUCH. BUT SHE HAS SO MUCH
ENERGY AND IT’S NICE TO HAVE A BREAK, TOO, YOU NEED TO LIVE.”
“I wouldn’t
call this living,” I was referring to the party. “This is like, trying to take
a vacation from living.” I sighed. “And I don’t want it. Not really. I want
normality.”
Suddenly I
was being placed back down on the kitchen tabletop. My groin was unavoidably
rigid and she must have felt it jabbing against her breast. I could feel her
eyes on me, scrutinizing my arousal.
“YOU STILL
FIND ME ATTRACTIVE.” There was a hint of wonder in her tone.
“It just
happens,” I said, mortified. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
If she
stopped stroking my head, it would go away. But her fingertips hovered over me,
kneading and tickling my scalp with oppressive affection.
She
considered aloud:
“I ALWAYS
THOUGHT, GIVE ME A TALL, HANDSOME MAN. AND THEN, YOUR PROFILE, I THINK, THIS IS
A JOKE, IT CAN’T BE REAL. BUT I CAN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT YOU. I MESSAGED YOU
BECAUSE I HAD TOO MUCH WINE. BUT ONCE I WAS SOBERED THERE WAS THE FEELING AGAIN.”
The talk was
becoming awkward for me. I pushed at her hand, but my strength was so puny
compared to hers, she seemed to think I was stroking her fingertips in reciprocation.
My scalp was massaged so tenderly my bladder wanted to void from the unbearable
stimulation. Blood was pulsing into my expanded member.
“Again,” I
repeated weakly. My whole body felt weak. “W-what are you talking about?”
“SOME
KISSES AND CUDDLES SOMETIMES,” she thought aloud, “AND TO FEEL YOUR LITTLE BODY
SNUGGLED AGAINST MINE. IT WOULD BE NICE TO HAVE THE CHANCE TO TAKE YOU OUT WITH
ME," she quickly added, "VERY CLOSE, BUT JUST FRIENDLY COMPANY."
I didn’t
say anything. It was so difficult to concentrate with the warm pressure of her
fingerpads making putty of my head.
“I think I
need to talk to Jennifer.”
“NO,” she
said gently, giving my head a small, admonitory tap. “DON’T DECIDE UNDER
PRESSURE. JUST BETWEEN US, WHAT DO YOU THINK?”
"Well,
I’m still getting used to you again. I’m trying to figure out who I’m talking
to.”
She gave a
vexed huff, seemingly more offended by the memory of the past than I was:
"OH,
YES, WHEN WE MET I WAS IN TEN DIFFERENT PLACES. THERE WAS A SIDE OF ME THAT
HURT YOU BADLY, BUT TRY TO UNDERSTAND FOR ME, THERE IS ANOTHER SIDE
THAT..." she struggled for the word for a second, and then let it go,
"...THIS IS THE REAL ME, OKAY?"
“I will
seriously think about what you’re saying, I promise.”
“AND YOU WOULD
LIKE TO VISIT ME AGAIN, JERRY? –MY HOUSE?” Her voice was subdued, with neutral
expectation, but there was a flicker of hopefulness.
“I would
like that, but…I have to be honest with my fiancée. She’s my number one.”
She took
this in calmly.
“AND WHAT
WILL YOU TELL HER ABOUT US?”
“That we’re
friends,” I said, a little obviously.
To be
honest, I was still trying to wrap my head around the idea that Jen had
accepted a car ride and plane trip with Samantha. Maybe she would need less
explaining than I realized.
Without
another look at me, her grasp enclosed me and lifted me from the sink. She
swished around and took me through the staff room towards the door separating
us from the party going on outside.
She did
something that made no sense. She sighed as if dissatisfied, even though I was
sure I had just promised her exactly what she wanted. She was, after all, the
one emphasizing that we were friends.
“WE WILL
FIND YOUR FIANCEE,” she said. “AND IF I DON’T HEAR
FROM YOU, I KNOW WHY IT IS, AND I ACCEPT IT.”
“Maybe you
beat yourself up,” I said, hugging my arms around her thumb. “My fiancée
probably thinks I’m an idiot, but I like you. I like being with you. I think I
even like being alone with you. You don’t coddle or belittle me. You talk to me
like I’m this mature, sophisticated person, and I appreciate tha—mmmmffff!”
The
reddest, glossiest of lips had just descended and finally came to rest upon my
face and, while my chest clenched and my stomach began to swoop, feed my senses
with a long, indulgent kiss.
All of her
relief and pleasure to see me was in that kiss, and it slammed into me like a
wave. While she kissed me, her thumb rubbed my stomach without thinking. I'd
never had my stomach rubbed while being kissed. It was weirdly sensual and
erotic, and my member grew heavy and stiff until my head was tingling with warm
numbness.
When the
weighty pressure of her lips was finally gone, my face was masked in warm,
sticky lipstick, which at least hid my raging blush.
She was
about to take me back outside, when I squeezed her finger hard, and said:
“Wait. I
need to hide from Anya.”
Maybe she’d
already had the same thought. Without even a second to prepare me, she pulled
open one side of her top and dunked me inside. It wasn’t like the time she’d
done this in her car. This time, I was submerged into the bottom of the bra.
The weight of her breast dropped and rested on top. It felt like a person lying
on my body full length, and effectively kept me pressed in place. I obediently
went still, ultra aware of her breast squeezing down on my painful erection.
It went
dark as she pulled the top back into position, trapping me completely in the
fabric pouch. She then began to walk, pushing through the staff area to head
outside, where the music became clearer.
With her
powerful stride, her substantial breast bounced on my groin over and over. I
groaned silently, but the weight of her mammary prevented me from shifting.
“EXCUSE ME,
M’AM,” uttered a deep male voice. “GOING TO HAVE TO ASK YOU TO EMPTY OUT YOUR
CLOTHING FOR ME.”
Samantha’s
heartbeat began banging through her chest, and transiting against the front of
my body and groin like a freight train. I gritted my teeth and began to squirm.
In
response, two heavy weights pressed me against her chest. She had gently folded
her arms to stop me moving, but ‘gentle’ to her was ‘crushing’ to me. My body
practically flattened lengthwise, sandwiched between breast and forearm.
Her voice came sharply from outside her bra:
“BE
SERIOUS,” she said, “YOU’RE ASKING ME TO BE INDECENT WHILE I’M WORKING.”
Then she seemed to turn away from the source of the voice.
“M’AM,
STOP,” the male voice came closer, “YOU ARE NOT LEAVING THIS PREMISES UNTIL YOU
COMPLY. OTHERWISE WE WILL BE FORCED TO PERFORM A SEARCH.”
Her body
tensed up, and her pulse continued to send firm coordinated beats through the length of my member. She
said:
“WHAT LAW
AM I BREAKING? TELL ME. WHAT LAW?”
“THE
SECURITY CAM CAUGHT TWO EMPLOYEES AND ONE TINY GUEST GOING INTO THE STAFF
QUARTERS,” the male responded, “BUT THE GUEST DID NOT EXIT. WE BELIEVE THE
GUEST IS CONCEALED ON YOUR PERSON AND YOU ARE ATTEMPTING TO SMUGGLE HIM OUT OF
THE HOTEL.”
Samantha
said with irritation:
“YES, OKAY,
I HAVE A GUEST, HE IS VULNERABLE AND HE NEEDS MY PROTECTION.”
The man
chuckled smugly.
“YOU GOT
THAT WRONG. WE’RE SECURITY. WE’RE THE PROTECTION. NOW I’M GOING TO
ASK YOU STEP THIS WAY WITH ME. LET’S KEEP THIS NICE AND CIVIL.”
The party
sounds drifted past before a door creaked shut and the music was walled off to
a low bass murmur.
“THIS ROOM
IS MONITORED,” the man stated, “SO DON’T TRY ANYTHING. I’M WAITING ON THE OTHER
SIDE OF THE DOOR. YOU HAVE FIVE SECONDS TO REMOVE THE GUEST AND HAND HIM OVER,
THEN WE CAN CARRY ON LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED.”
The music
flared into the room as the door was opened once more, then muffled again as
the door shut. Dim light
hit my eyes as the bra cup was pulled away, and I was plucked out between a
forefinger and thumb. Right as I was going to speak, she brushed a thumb over
my lips, seemingly without thinking, and muffling my speech. I stared at the
camera in the corner ceiling with concern.
“mMMmm
MMmmm!” I said, which meant: ‘turn away from the camera!’
“JERRY –
THEY CAN’T HEAR US,” she said in a low, urgent voice, misinterpreting my
distress. “DON’T WORRY, I WILL TELL BRIGITTE—”
The door
creaked open and the man strode back in. Now I could see him over the top of
Samantha’s thumbnail. He was wearing a full black suit and tie and earpiece.
His eyes locked onto me, held delicately in Samantha’s hand, but her thumb
still pushed to my lips, and I was squirming a little, trying to push my head
free so I could speak to her.
I quickly
stopped moving but the man had the scene snapshotted in his mind. And, Oh Jesus, it looked
bad.
At the same
time, Samantha’s thumb glided up my cheek and began to cautiously stroke the
side of my head.
As soon as
my mouth was free, I shouted, a little ludicrously:
“She’s with
me!”
Ignoring
me, the man held out a hand to Samantha, and not with any intention to shake or
greet.
“I’MMA ASK
YOU TO GIVE UP THE GUEST TO ME, AND NO SUDDEN MOVEMENTS, OKAY?”
“Hey, I
don’t want to go!” I said. But it didn’t seem the officer cared at all what I
wanted.
“YOU’LL BE
SAFE, LITTLE ONE.” She said this to me, but it was laced with steel to the
officer, like a threat.
One of her
fingertips dug into my abdomen affectionately, though her cheeks were flushed
with anger.
Then I was
placed into the broad, creased and coarser platform of the man’s hand. In a
flash, his fingers closed in around my torso like a steel trap, cutting my
breath short. I winced.
“NOW WE’RE
GOING TO ESCORT YOU OFF THE PREMISES,” he said to Samantha, “AND MANAGEMENT CAN
TAKE IT UP WITH YOU WHAT FURTHER ACTION THEY WANNA TAKE.”
“I WON’T LEAVE,”
she demanded. “I AM WORKING AND YOU FOLLOWING ME AND CORNERING ME IS MAKING
GUESTS UNCOMFORTABLE.”
Another
deep, amused sound crackled out of the man’s throat:
“OH, I
DON’T THINK YOU’LL BE WORKING HERE MUCH LONGER. YOU GO WITH ERIC NOW, PRINCESS,
HE’S GONNA TAKE YOU OUTSIDE.”
“FOTTITI TU,”
she said.
Another
member of security had been called over and now escorted Samantha away. She
didn’t resist, but sauntered at his side with her head held high. Then I
realized she was scanning the crowd.
“She wasn’t
doing anything wrong!” I spluttered.
The man
answered:
“I’M TAKING
DIRECTION FROM THE CONTROL ROOM, AND THEY CAUGHT HER CONCEALING YOU. NOW, IF
THERE’S A SAFETY ISSUE BETWEEN A MEMBER OF STAFF AND A GUEST, WE GOTTA STEP IN
AND PREVENT ESCALATION, EVEN AGAINST ONE OF OUR OWN.”
“Well,
since she also works here,” I said slyly, “maybe she was taking direction from
management to protect me.”
“I DON’T
WANT TO STARTLE YOU, TINY FELLA, BUT IF THAT LADY WORKS WITH US, SHE IS NOT
ROSTERED ON TONIGHT’S SHIFT, AND WE’RE TRYING TO IDENTIFY AN EMPLOYMENT RECORD
WITH THE HOTEL. NOW – NOT SAYING FRAUD – BUT SOMETHING’S UP.”
“So, what’s
your agenda with me?” I said grumpily.
The man
gave a big sigh, utterly convinced a catastrophe had been avoided.
“GOING TO
STORE YOU AWAY IN A LITTLE PLACE, SIR,” he replied. “AND IN JUST YOUR SIZE,
TOO."
That was
the last thing I saw before the collar of my t-shirt ‘onesie’ was hauled into
the air. I dangled helplessly for an instant as the man opened his front shirt
pocket, and lowered me inside. He seemed not to get the irony that this was
basically the same place Samantha was keeping me.
For the
next few minutes I sat, bored and stewing away inside the man’s front shirt
pocket, packed against one of the bricks of pure muscle that was the man’s
pectoral, much less comfortable than Samantha’s plush chest. The music and
upbeat voices and laughter surged around, but there was nothing to look at
except a window of dark shirt fabric.
I’d had
enough of this cologne and sweat scented prison and began driving my fists into
the man’s chest to get his attention over the bubbling noise. One of his huge,
stubby fingertips poked my head inquisitively.
“I want out
– now!” I shouted. Actually, I’d been shouting myself hoarse for the past
fifteen minutes, but the music now came to a quiet part, he only now heard me. The collar
of my t-shirt pulled tight as I was hefted up out of the pocket and held in
front of the security man’s stern face. I cleared my throat.
“I’d like
to leave the party now. Can you take me out the front of the Hotel?”
“ARE YOU
SURE, SIR?” His nicotine-scented breath blew into my face from between his
teeth, making my eyes water. “TAKE ONE STEP OUT OF THE ENTRANCE AND THE HOTEL
HAS NO LIABILITY OVER YOU ANYMORE.”
I coughed.
“I’ll take
my chances.”
If I was
lucky, maybe Samantha was in the ground floor lobby. Otherwise I could probably
get the front desk staff to help me call someone. Anything seemed like an
improvement over being with this guy.
The man
sighed:
“YOUR
CALL.”
I was
dropped back inside the pocket and began to bump around in time with his
striding footsteps. It felt like being inside a cloth sack tied to a galloping
horse. A horse determined to choke me with a saturation of cologne.
God, I
missed Jennifer. The way she thoughtfully used massage oils to make her body an
intoxicating sensory wonderland just for me. Right then, I wanted her more than
anything. I would scream and beg and fall on my knees and do anything to have
her. She could tie me to her finger, or put me in her mouth, or whatever she
wanted, I’d do it, happily.
And then it
hit me.
This was
how she felt. This was how she felt when I ran away from her for my own piece
of time and space. It was unbearable.
Suddenly the
galloping motion paused. The man had paused to listen to instruction issuing
through his earpiece. His massive body pivoted and began heading in a different
direction.
“SORRY,
SIR, CHANGE OF PLAN.”
“What?” I
yelled out, feeling my sense of control sucked away in an instant. If someone
carrying me refused my instructions, I essentially became a tiny, defenceless
captive. And this guy seemed unmoved by my protests.