After I got home, I called Paul but when he didn’t answer, I assumed he was working. I next called Mike Monroe who I occasionally played pickup basketball with, who answered on the first ring.
“What’s up, Beck?”
“Hey, Mike. Anything going on tonight?”
Mike was twenty-nine and single but he’d dated some absolutely stunning women. At a party, I’d once asked him why he hadn’t settled down yet, and he’d drunkenly explained his “Thirty-five Plan,” which amounted to things he had to accomplish before turning thirty-five. First, he had to be at least a six-digit millionaire, which, as a hedge fund manager, he was well on his way, secondly, he’d outlined his idea of the perfect woman to me who sounded more like a robot maid, but to each his own, and lastly, he had to be running for Congress and “Winning all the votes.” I’d laughed but honestly, I felt like he would achieve all three goals. Mike also knew everything that went on in NYC, which was my reason for the call.
“Hell yes! Now, stick with me here, okay?”
Fuck. What was I potentially getting mixed up in?
“There’s a fashion show tonight.” I let out a groan. “I told you to stick with me, dude!”
“All right. Tell me about this fashion show,” I conceded, getting out the scotch and pouring myself a glass.
“Again, stay with me for a minute. So this fashion show is made up of Victoria’s Secrets model rejects which sounds funny as fuck but these chicks, Jesus Christ. They’re smokin’ hot, Beck. Perfect bodies: huge tits, long legs, tight asses. And the best part about it? Are you ready for this? They put on a runway show in tiny lingerie, right? All the stuck-up New York elite make their appearance to get on page six and all that bullshit. They leave by ten then all fucking hell breaks loose. There’s another raunchier show. And I’m telling you, these chicks are dying for fame and they’ll do just about anything to get it. And I mean anything, brother. So, you in?”
Hell, I might as well. Birdie wasn’t an option tonight since she needed her fucking alone time. “Sure,” I answered, finishing off my scotch.
“I’ll have a limo pick your ass up.”
“New address, man. And I’m getting a divorce.”
He let out a loud laugh and said, “That’s my man! Fuck marriage right now! Gimme your addy and the limo will be there promptly at ten to pick you up.”
The limo arrived on time and upon getting in, I saw a buffet of various high-dollar liquors ripe for the taking. I poured myself a tumbler of Dalmore Quintessence, this particular blend probably cost just under a grand, then I sat back, relaxed and sipped on the most expensive—and fucking delicious—whiskey I’d ever had.
Thirty minutes later the driver stopped, got out and opened my door at the 69th Regiment Armory, or the 69th as it was called, a damned famous landmark in New York City history. But most notable as of late, it’d been the location of the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show. And now it was hosting it’s less famous, naughty little sister’s fashion show, Mike’s words, not mine. Anyway, I noticed some of the more well-known jetsetters around town leaving as I approached the entrance. Mike was right. He was always right.
Once inside I saw the place was packed, but Mike had told me where he’d be, so I made my way to his table.
“Beck!” he said as he stood, giving me a guy hug. “It’s been too long!”
“Yeah, it has,” I replied as we sat at his table that edged the runway.
“What’re you drinking?” he called over the noise.
“I liked that fucking Dalmore you had in the limo,” I answered with a laugh.
“It’s yours!” he promised, then some dude who looked like he might’ve been Mike’s personal assistant or butler or manservant or whatever title he went by, came right over due to some signal Mike had made that I didn’t catch, and not two minutes later, the guy set a couple tumblers and a fucking bottle of the Dalmore in front of me.
Yeah, I wanted to be Mike when I grew up. Jesus.
Several of the guys who played in our pickup games started showing up and soon our table was full, and pretty damned rowdy. I was having a fucking great time when the lights and music suddenly changed and someone announced that the show was beginning. Looking around, I saw a few women in the audience and wondered if they were from modeling agencies.
Then the show started and holy fucking hell. Mike had not lied. These women were unbelievably beautiful and their bodies were amazing. All I could do was stare as they made their way down the runway, each more gorgeous than the first. There were so many camera flashes, I wondered how the fuck they could even see where they were going but they somehow managed to make it gracefully down the runway and back.
“Fuck!” Noah Oaks yelled from where he sat next to me. He was a cardiac surgeon and had given me a lot of advice when Sonya had been in the hospital. He was also one of our post players, and at 6’8” he was hard to miss just sitting there, but when he stood and went to the stage, taking the hand of one of the models who smiled shyly at him and helping her walk down the steps, he was a sight to behold. I don’t know where they disappeared off to, but I was sure it probably wasn’t back at his country estate where his wife and four kids were.
I noticed a lot of men doing that then, going to the stage and leading the models away, and realized that this was nothing but a fucking escort service that, according to Mike, came to town once a year.
When the show ended, I laughed seeing Mike surrounded by several of the girls, all vying for his attention. Apparently, he was well-known here and had probably helped launch many a modeling career, or at least that’s what I figured. Mike was a good-looking guy, but I couldn’t be convinced that these chicks were swarming him for any other reason than his money.
“Well, hello, handsome,” I heard from my left and looked over to see perfect thighs and a taut abdomen staring me in the face. Looking up, and just past a pair of flawless tits encased in a shiny violet bra, I saw a Margot Robbie clone smiling down at me. Holy fuck.
“Hi,” I answered. “Would you like to sit?” I asked, standing and pulling out a chair for her. When I sat, I grabbed a tumbler and poured her a drink handing it to her.
“What’s this?” she asked, sniffing at it.
“That right there,” I nodded at the probably two fingers of whiskey I’d poured for her, “is about a hundred bucks.”
She looked at me skeptically then took a sip, scrunching up her face at the taste.
“Not a big whiskey drinker, huh?” I commented.
“No. I don’t drink a lot.” She shrugged. “Mostly just water.” Holding her hand out to me, she announced, “I’m Blair.”
“Beck,” I said, taking her hand and giving it a shake.
“I like the name, Beck,” she said with a cute giggle.
“Thanks,” I answered, not knowing what else to say. Feeling my phone buzz in my pocket, I pulled it out and saw it was Birdie calling. I let it go to voicemail noticing she’d also texted several times. Putting my phone back, I asked Blair, “So what do you do other than model?”
She laughed. “That was my next question for you, minus the modeling part.”
“I’m an industrial engineer for a pharmaceutical company.”
“I’m going into engineering too,” she said.
“What branch?”
“Civil. I wanna build tunnels because they’re sexy,” she smiled as she divulged this interesting bit of information and gave me a wink.
Damn. I looked down at my whiskey thinking she was the whole fucking package and then some.
I wasn’t prepared when she stood, and I turned at the movement just in time to have a face full of tiny, shiny violet panties in my face. Sweet Jesus.
“Pull your chair out, Beck, so we can get to know each other better,” she said with a pouty look and who was I to disobey.
The minute I backed my chair from the table, she straddled me and said, “This is much better.”
Now, if you’ve never had a pair of perfect purple-covered 34DDs staring you in the face, you’re definitely missing out. And you’re seriously fucking missing out when the purple part suddenly disappears leaving nothing between you and perfectly gorgeous tits staring you down.
I’ll admit, I was feeling pretty good from the whiskey, but I wasn’t drunk. And I should’ve immediately made Blair get off my lap but I hesitated because, well, tits.
Finally coming to my senses, I took her by the waist helping her to stand and standing myself, I handed her the bra.
“You’re beautiful and so fucking tempting, but I can’t,” I explained.
She laughed as she clasped her bra in the back. “It’s okay, Beck.” She spun in a circle, and her perfect ass jiggled a little as she did so. I let out a groan at the sight of it. “You sure you don’t wanna have a good time with me?”
God. So fucking tempting. But I loved Birdie and didn’t want to screw shit up between us anymore than it already was.
“Sorry, Blair,” I answered.
She looked disappointed for a second and then a little conflicted before she spoke. “I’m sorry, but you seem like a good guy, so I’m just gonna tell you the truth.” I narrowed my eyes wondering what she was going to divulge. “My name really isn’t Blair and I’m not going into civil engineering.” She twisted her mouth to the side after confessing. “They tell us to read you guys then tell you what you want to hear because,” she shrugged, “we might just hit the jackpot.”
Huh. This was all a huge fucking racket, even more than I’d thought it had been.
“What’re you looking for, Blair, or whatever your name is?” I asked.
“A chance.”
Fuck. How fucking sad.
“You seem like a smart girl…” I hesitated wondering what her real name was.
“Bonnie. I’m Bonnie.”
“You seem like a smart girl, Bonnie. I hope you figure that out before this shit ruins you.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Well, good luck, Beck.” She held her hand out and I shook it.
“Good luck to you too, Bonnie.”
I watched as she walked away, that gorgeous ass of hers getting lots of second looks as she made her way through the crowd then disappeared. I moved to where Mike was entertaining at least six girls.
“Hey, I’m heading out,” I told him.
He held a finger up to the girls and stepped toward me. “You sure? That chick you were with was fucking hot!”
I chuckled. “Yeah, I’m gonna turn in.”
He looked over his shoulder making contact with his butler guy. “Samson will take you to the limo then Lars will take you wherever you wanna go.”
“Thanks, man. Good seeing you. We need to play soon,” I said but he was already heading back to his harem.
I let out a laugh as I shook my head, then followed Samson outside and had Lars take me home.