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.