12 - Grey
I have some serious business relationships with Jameson that I can't jeopardize by randomly ditching him. There, I said it.
Also, hell if I care about that right now. I'm making plans to excuse myself to the bathroom, quietly pay my tab at the bar when he's not looking, and make my great escape. I'm not exactly proud of that one, and he'll probably give me shit for it later, but whatever.
Why did I ever agree to let Fiona go to this party? I know why, and my intentions were good. So were hers. We had good intentions, but baby girl, there's no fucking way we can let this happen anymore. I'm sorry.
The worst part is she's probably already there, so I've got to make even more plans. How do I come up with a plausible reason for why I need to drag Emily and Fiona out of a frat house during a Valentine's Day party? This is a tough one, but honestly I think I can just “I'm a parent” my way out of this one. It works like a charm with most college kids. Tell them you're a parent and they immediately freeze and try to pretend they aren't doing something they don't want their parents knowing about.
The plan has no finesse, but it gets the job done, and that's what's important at the moment.
I don't even get spring my plan into action, because as soon as I move to stand up and excuse myself to go to the restroom, a woman who is dressed to kill, and wearing high heels that could probably do exactly that, sits down next to me and wraps her hands around my arm.
“Well, well, well,” she says, her sultry voice licking at my ear. “Mr. Grey Royal. I do believe I told you to let me know if you were free and in need of company for the evening...”
It's the fucking front desk woman. The one who slipped me her name and number, and the one who Fiona wanted to stomp back to the lobby so she could fight. I mean, who knows, maybe I should have let Fiona fight her, except, uh... yeah, like I just said this woman is dressed to kill and I don't know if Fiona could kill a fly.
Fiona would try really hard, though. That's the important part. Going to be honest, the fact that she probably can't beat anyone up isn't exactly a negative in my book. I'm pretty much fine with it, actually. I do like when she's cute and feisty, though.
“Oh ho ho,” Jameson says, cheeks red from our ongoing drinking session. “You have a friend, Grey! How long's this been going on?”
“Hopefully it'll be going on all night,” the woman says, flashing Jameson a wink. “He's got the perfect hotel room for it.”
“Jameson,” I say, mostly ignoring the fact that this woman is tracing my bicep with her fingers. “This is...”
No fucking clue. Who the hell is she again? She's the front desk woman. That's all I know.
“Holly,” she says, holding out one hand to shake Jameson's while the other stays firmly attached to my muscular arm. “Grey and I just met today, but I think we're going to be very good friends soon enough.”
“That's not the kind of offer you can turn down,” Jameson says, grinning at me. “I suppose this means we should part ways for the evening. We'll hammer out the final details before the end of the week, Grey. It's always good doing business with you.”
Jameson waves the waitress over and hands her his credit card without even seeing the bill.
“Don't worry,” he adds with a wink. “I'll get this one. You and your new lady friend go have fun. Sounds like you're in for an interesting night.”
Holly takes this to mean she's got me all to herself and stands up so she can drag me off into the night or something. This isn't how I had planned on ditching Jameson, but, uh, yeah... what the hell? Sure. It works.
We get outside and Holly tries to hold my hand as we walk back to the hotel.
“Yeah, uh, no?” I say, and then because I'm not a completely heartless and rude asshole, I add, “No thanks.”
Holly laughs and peeks over at me with a sultry smirk. “You don't have to pay if that's what you're thinking. I'm not that kind of girl. Even if I was, you'd be completely free, sugar.”
“Look, uh... seriously, I'm flattered and all, and you're obviously an attractive woman, but--”
My phone interrupts me. It buzzes quick and my mind immediately flashes to there somehow being trouble. Who's in trouble? Fiona and Emily? Fuck! I'll kill someone. I will fight as many people as I have to and...
I check my notifications and I've got... nothing.
No texts, at least. There's something from Snapchat, which I don't really understand. It's for taking pictures, but they go away after a certain amount of time? Fiona explained it to me, and I sort of get it, but it's like...
“So you're saying I can send you a dick pic and it'll vanish after a few seconds?” I asked her.
“Daddy!” Fiona said, slapping my shoulder and laughing, but her cheeks turned redder than a stop sign, too. “I mean, you can...”
And she can send me sexy pictures, too. Completely safe or something, except when it's not and someone screenshots your pictures, so, uh... yeah, it's not completely safe at all. Still sounded fun and I'm not going to abuse Fiona's trust. I doubt she'd start spreading pictures of my cock over the worldwide web either, but we haven't even gotten to that part yet.
We took a picture of the two of us with dog ears and when we opened our mouths this cartoon dog tongue came out and licked at the screen. That's about it.
Emily has Snapchat too and she just takes pictures of her with an angel halo or whatever the fuck. Goddess leaf tiara? Seriously, who the fuck comes up with this shit? Fuck if I know.
I'm about to just pocket my phone and figure out a way to ditch Holly the same as I was going to ditch Jameson, but she sees the Snapchat notification and laughs.
“Tonight's going to be a fun night,” she says, nodding towards my phone. “Whenever there's a big party going on, the college kids post a ton of pictures to the local Snapchat. It gets crazy. They think they're safe because the pictures go away after awhile. Kind of like how what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, but this ain't Vegas, let me tell you...”
“Yeah?” I ask, my heart about to burst out of my chest and skydive down a volcano into the deepest depths of the earth. “Like what?”
“Sometimes it's harmless. Just kids having fun, doing silly things. Sometimes it's more like all the reasons parents worry about their kids going away to college. There's definitely been some porn star moments every now and then. Everything's off Snapchat after twenty-four hours, but you never know if someone's going to make a copy. Everyone forgets that part. It's one of those unspoken rules that no one will do it, but no one ever follows the rules all the time.”
Holy fucking shit. I was kind of joking before, but are Emily and Fiona actually going to a sex party? Fucking... fuck. Fuck! Shit. Holy fucking shit, I can't even deal with this.
No. It's fine. Take a deep breath. Breathe, Grey. Do some fucking namaste yoga shit right now. There's a reason you go to yoga, right? I mean, the real reason is Emily wanted to go and she was kind of shy and didn't want to go alone, so I just fucking went with her, and then Fiona wanted to go so I was like, yeah, I'll let you two do your thing together, and then they whined and dragged me back into it. And now Fiona wants to keep going, but she wants to go with me, so...
Yoga's cool but I didn't really have a choice in the matter is what I'm saying here.
Anyways, Snapchat. Let's look at this. Defuse my fears, settle my nerves, shove my heart back into my chest before it skydives into a volcano.
The picture pops up. It's a girl in a white dress with a white mask that has a feather sticking out of the top of one side. I don't know what the fuck those shoes are, but they're the kind that make all men stupid. I'm basically an idiot right now, or I was almost a complete idiot, except I looked at the rest of the picture first.
The girl has her hands on her hips with one knee angled in to do a cute and sassy sexy pose, complete with her tongue sticking out.
I know that tongue. I have seen that tongue many times. I have intimate knowledge of that tongue, especially because I've seen it licking up and down my shaft more times than I care to admit. Because, you know, I'm a depraved fucking pervert and I'm having sex with a girl twelve years younger than me.
Going to Hell. Got it. I don't even fucking care. We've gone over this plenty of times and I don't want to deal with it anymore.
But yeah, what the hell? Fiona, why? And where the fuck is Emily?
Oh, there she is. As if seeing Fiona look like the epitome of sex on legs wasn't bad enough, once her picture fades from Snapchat, my sister's pops up. Yeah, uh, I don't want to see that. She's wearing the inverse of Fiona, her dress a steamy red and her shoes pure white.
My sister seriously has to put some clothes on or something. Fiona does too, at least in public. Come to me wearing that in private and I'll gladly fuck the shit out of you, baby girl. Just, uh... at some frat party?
No. No fucking way in Hell.
“Did that get you riled up, handsome?” Holly asks, trying to wind her way to my crotch.
Her fingers tease down my arm while I hold my phone to look at Snapchat, then she slides lower, to my hip, and she tries to sneak her way towards the front of my pants...