Jared
Aw, shit. Aw shit shit shit. I stared at the glass of amber liquid in my hand and raised a hand for another. Shit, I needed to get a hold of myself. I’m a drinker for sure, but lately, the habit had gotten crazy. From three drinks a night, I’d started doing four, and now I was looking down the hatch at my fifth.
But too late. The server across the way saw me, and nodded sweetly, spinning on a high heel to speak with the bartender. And sure enough, the female came swaying at me then, tumbler balanced precariously on a silver tray.
“Sir,” she breathed. “Here you are.”
And this particular waitress was one for the ages. About five four in heels, she had huge gazongas which nipples literally brushed my arm as she leaned over, one fleshy breast lightly banging my face as she reached to place the alcohol on the side table beside me.
“Oh sorry sir!” the brunette exclaimed with a coy smile. “I’m sorry, it’s these heels that are making me clumsy. Here, let me get you a napkin.”
And despite the fact that she hadn’t spilled on me, a piece of white paper appeared in her hand instantly and she was bent over, stroking my dick with a soft hand. That’s right, the little girl was feeling the curve of my cock through my pants, lightly running her fist up and down, pretending she was cleaning up with that stupid napkin.
My dick twitched once, but it was more out of surprise than anything. Because I didn’t want her. In the time that Abby’s been gone, I haven’t had it in me to take any women, which is fucking out of character. Usually I’m an asshat, I’m always banging chicks, I’ve got my dick sunk in some woman’s orifices morning, noon, and night. Or not just some woman, but women plural. That’s right, I’m up for a little menage, two slippery bodies, hell even a group bang with a shit ton of pussies surrounding me.
But since she’s been gone, Mr. Happy hasn’t been so happy. In fact, it’s like he’s dead on arrival, limp and scrawny, a useless rubber hose hanging between my legs with the consistency of jelly. I tried a hand job in the shower and that was better, but it was only because I closed my eyes and thought of my baby, picturing those huge tits, that sweet pink slit, all of it topped with her smile. Oh yeah, Abby’s smile is something that wrenches my soul, making me stammer and growl, before coming like a fucking geyser.
And the waitress now was having no effect. Sure, she was cute, every woman who works at the Club is cute. She even looked like Abby a little, voluptuous with brown curls and brown eyes. But there the resemblance stopped. As I breathed deeply, I could smell the strange woman’s cunt, her personal identifying scent, and it wasn’t my baby’s cunt. This wasn’t the sweet honey of Abby’s puss, this was a weird vinegar smell, like the waitress had been douching with the stuff.
So I picked up the woman’s hand and put it on her breast abruptly. I didn’t want to touch her, but maybe if she did a little dancing, I’d be into it. Maybe that would help me get with the program, help me revive and become a man once more.
“Grind,” I commanded. “Now.”
And obligingly, the woman put down her tray, balancing like an expert in those high heels. Slowly, she shimmied, running her hands up and down that sleek torso, cupping her breasts, looking coyly at me, licking her lips lasciviously.
“Oh yeah,” she murmured, spreading her knees and going into a deep squat, showing off the wet fabric at her crotch. “Oh yeah Daddy,” she cooed.
But I didn’t feel anything. The heaving boobs didn’t turn me on, the obviously drenched cunt didn’t have any effect. I was just about to give her some money to go away when a looming figure appeared.
“Hey bud,” said Xander. “What’s up?”
What was up? What did it look like? I was getting a dance from a horny chick, grade A material and yet I was barely alive, my pulse barely existent. Shit, life was fucked up and the waitress paused for a moment, unsure. But I gestured with a grunt, and she was back at it twisting sinuously as Xander sat himself down.
“Hey,” I grunted.
Xander signaled for a drink and leaned back in his own club chair, taking in the beautiful brunette.
“Looks like that girl you were with last night,” he remarked unhelpfully.
My hackles raised and I literally started growling, any mention of Abby on another male’s lips making me go batshit.
But Xander lifted his hands in the air.
“No offense dude, just sayin’,” he said offhandedly. “She’s all yours.”
I sat back in my chair, still prickly, still pissed as hell as the server danced beside us. But neither he nor I were into the woman, and I waved her away. The brunette pouted a moment, trailing her fingers over one large nipple but with a swift turn on her heel, she was gone, hair flying. Oh yeah, I’m the master here, the females do as we say, and she’d be back in an instant if I so much as winked an eye.
But still, the talk of Abby pissed me off, and I growled under my breath again, staring at the drink.
“Something on your mind?” asked Xander, eyebrow cocked, sipping at his own tumbler. “Something got your cock in a vise?”
I groaned because that was it exactly. Abby had me in her grip. Even though I’d sent her packing, I couldn’t stop thinking of the curvaceous brunette. She invaded every cell of my being, and fuck, my sex drive had been annihilated because of her. So I grunted, looking away.
“Naw, I’m fine.”
But Xander knows me pretty well. We’re not friends exactly, but he knows me as well as another guy could know me, and he merely took another sip of the fiery alcohol.
“Is it that girl?” he asked, “What was her name again? Amanda? Agatha?”
“Abigail,” I said shortly. “Abby.”
Xander nodded thoughtfully.
“Right, she went up for auction and it got cut off,” he said. “What happened after that? You get a hold of her?”
What had happened was I’d pummeled the girl’s pussy and bottom, giving her a double drill during her first time. Yeah, wretched asshole that I am, I’d done a double dicking on the innocent virgin, tearing her hymen and then owning that big bubble butt. Shit, it was so wrong, but my dick jerked thinking of it, spurting a little. WTF was wrong with me? A dance from a naked girl couldn’t turn me on, but even the mere thought of my beautiful brunette made me horny as fuck. I snarled again, setting my drink down.
“The fact is she was a slut,” I ground out. “With a horny, slippery cunt and a nasty-ass butt.”
Xander was silent for a moment.
“So?” he asked. “So what?”
And that was the problem exactly. I sat back in my chair, angry as fuck.
“The problem is that I was saving that slippery cunt for the brotherhood,” I ground out. “I scouted her back in New York, she was a fucking virgin who’d get a massive price. So yeah, I went to all this trouble to bring her here,” I said, gesturing to the luxurious confines of the Club, “and then WTF happens? She goes apeshit, gets herself auctioned only to have the whole thing go berserker.”
Xander was quiet for a moment.
“But it was your cum in her holes, wasn’t it?” he asked curiously. “You’re the one who fucked up her chances.”
I shook my head like a madman.
“No fucking way, I would never do that to the brotherhood,” I growled angrily. “We had some hot play before she went up on stage, but one, I didn’t know she was gonna be sold, so what the fuck. And two, I didn’t breach that pussy. Sure, I spurted but I didn’t actually push it in.”
Xander cut me off with a hand up.
“Slow, bro, I don’t need to hear it all,” he drawled. “You on speed or something? You’re so fucking worked up you’re sweating up a storm.”
I looked down at myself then because it was true. My fists clenched and unclenched uselessly, thighs tight as a spring. And sure enough, beads of sweat had sprung out on my forehead, making me into a glistening mess. What the fuck, how did Abby do this to me? I was gonna beat her ass when I found that chickadee, force my dick in hard up that backside.
But that was the thing. She was gone, I’d sent her away myself, ordered the handlers to ship her out. She was one and done banished, gone from the Club forever, and it was me who was suffering. Most times when a woman leaves, the guy is relieved, an intense source of stress gone. But instead, the opposite had happened. I was jittery mess, a junkie on amphetamines, unable to grapple with real life.
“Naw, no drugs,” I grunted, taking another swig of bourbon. “Just the alcohol.”
Xander shook his head.
“Well whatever it is, clearly that girl’s gotten under your skin. Where is she now?” he asked curiously.
I shrugged.
“Gone back to her old life,”
The words were like daggers in my throat, hard to even say
“So you gonna see her again?” said Xander mildly. “You gonna invite her back to the club?”
I stared at him disbelievingly.
“That fucking brat screwed up my plans the first time,” I said slowly. “Did you not hear? She was a fucking lizard, going and getting herself auctioned off, and then fucking it all up.”
Xander shook his head again, like we were talking in circles.
“Yeah, but why does it matter?” he asked, brows raised. “Why the fuck does that matter?”
“Because I worked so hard to get her here!” I exploded then, slamming my drink down. “I fucking prepped her, I talked to that girl for days straight and brought her to the Billionaires Ball to get her some exposure. And instead, she fucks it up! That fucking bitch!” I raged.
Xander just shook his head again.
“Sorry, man, didn’t realize recruiting was that much work,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong, we appreciate it and all, but why the hell did you go to so much trouble? Why didn’t you just punch through that hymen and be done with it?”
I’d fucking had it then. This asshat was an idiot, he deserved to be expelled from the Club. I stood up, ready to go, but Xander said one more thing.
“We don’t care, there are so many girls everywhere,” he said, gesturing to the female servers, all of them succulent and nude for our pleasure. “Don’t say you did it for us. At least not for me,” he added like a smarmy asshole. “She’s not even my type.”
I was at his throat then, ready to choke and strangle the mofo, but Xander slid out of the way, standing up, straightening that elegantly-cut suit.
“Just saying,” he said. “I like skinny blondes and that girl wasn’t up my alley at all. If you wanna fuck up your own life, go ahead, but don’t blame it on the brotherhood. Don’t blame the Club, we never asked for that shit. It’s all in your head, mofo, all in your head, take a good look in the mirror before you start spewing like a bucket of shit.”
And with that, the tall man walked off, cool and confident, like nothing was wrong. But the same couldn’t be said of me, and I plunked back down in my chair, big frame stiff. Was Xander right? Had I been the one who’d fucked up? I’d spent the last week griping about this and that, heaving all the blame onto Abby, listing all the reasons why she was a dirty, conniving ho. But it didn’t matter. I still wanted the teen, and besides, was Xander right? Was it me all along? Was I the guy who’d completely screwed up, acting like a bull in a china shop? Had I completely fucked up what had the possibility to be good, or even great?
Suddenly, I realized what had to happen next. I needed to see Abby, to look into those brown eyes and confront the truth. Or maybe, I needed to do as Xander suggested and look into the mirror and confront my own truth. Because I put all the blame squarely on my baby girl, but when one finger points, there are four pointing back at you. And with a sense of dread, a crushing pressure on my chest, suddenly I knew that I’d been the one. I’d been the one who’d been unthinkingly careless, forcing her to do all sorts of things that she hated. The teen had given herself to me, open, innocent and inviting, and I’d been an asshat, convincing myself that it didn’t mean anything because of this misplaced allegiance to the brotherhood.
But that’s the thing. They didn’t care. The Club had plenty of girls, and while Abby was a fine specimen to be sure, there was more than enough female flesh to go around. Sure, it’s hard to source females, but our money and power will find it for us, it’s just a matter of time. Oh shit, oh shit. It was me, I was the fuck-up, and heart pounding, I stood, jittery like I’d just taken a hit. I had to get to Abby. I had to see her, to pull her close and claim her once more … if the girl wasn’t gone already.