by Che ©
It was Candi's voice. Jeremy wasn't surprised, the call coming just as
predicted.
"Hi. So how's the vacation? Nice not havin' ta come ta work, isn't it?"
"Yeah," she giggled, "but I was wondering . . . remember what you were asking; about wanting to watch me with a girl? I want to get together with you again, Jeremy, but you said I'd have to 'do it' with a girl. Have you asked her?"
He waited a second before answering.
"Oh, yeah . . . either one of those girls are willin'. How about you? Still interested?"
He could sense her interest even before she spoke. Maybe it was the sound of her breathing.
"You actually asked her?" she giggled. "She said 'yes'?"
"Un huh," he answered. "So . . . are ya ready ta do it?"
Candi's breathing was definitely audible.
"Are they still registered guests?"
He looked at the register on the VGA monitor, pleased to see they hadn't checked out.
"Still here," he grinned.
"So . . . how were you going to arrange it?" she asked, soft voice betraying excitement. "Am I supposed to come over there, or what?"
Rocking his chair, Jeremy mulled-over possibilities presenting themselves to an over-active sexual imagination. There was the problem of the boyfriend. What could he say to get the girls away for awhile, and where? His apartment? Candi's? No, that wouldn't work. She still lived with her mother.
"Gimme your number an' I'll call ya back later . . . but don't make any plans for tonight."
"Are you horny, Jeremy?" giggled Candi. "You want to get together tonight? That's fine with me. I'll call back in awhile, okay? That's best. My mom's really strange about guys calling me here. Okay?"
"Make it about an hour," he grinned. "I'll be here."
Hanging up, he left his desk and walked out to the reception counter. Katherine was back from vacation and on the phone so he browsed through the phone message book. When Katherine hung up, he cleared his throat.
"Have you seen the guests from 510? A blonde and a shorter brunette . . . a guy about my height, but real tan and long hair?"
Katherine paused before a look registered recall.
"Oh, yes, I remember him. I saw them leaving over an hour ago with Venessa. Maybe they were going to breakfast."
Jeremy considered the news.
"Let me know when they return, will you? I have a message for the brunette . . . Leticia . . . I should deliver it personally."
Katherine smiled and nodded. Remembering Leticia's figure, she had an inkling of what kind of a message he wanted to deliver. Turning on one heel, Jeremy walked back to his office. He hadn't worked for more than a half hour when the phone rang again. It was Katherine.
"They just returned. Leticia's here at the desk. Do you want to speak with her on the phone?"
"Ah . . . no, I'll be there in a second."
Hanging-up, he locked his office before heading for the lobby. Leticia was waiting in the arched doorway to the pool. Marla and her boyfriend were nowhere in sight so he assumed they'd returned to their room. Seeing him approaching, Leticia gave him a big smile.
"Good morning, Jeremy. You have a message for me?"
He nodded, glancing back at the desk. Katherine was watching.
"Let's step outside," he said, opening the door to the lanai.
Only two guests had come down to swim and the place seemed strangely deserted.
"So," he grinned, eyes licking her curvaceous figure, "remember what we were talkin' about yesterday? About Candi an' everything?"
Leticia nodded, twinkle in dark eyes.
"Well, she just called. So, can we get together?"
"Just the three of us?" Leticia smiled, twisting seductively. "Would you consider a larger group? Maybe six? It would be very exciting, Jeremy. What do you think?"
"Like, who?" he asked, wondering what he was getting himself into. "Marla an' her boyfriend . . . who else?"
"Venessa?" Leticia smiled, pleased at the expression on the boy's face. "She's interested in getting to know you better after I told her about what you and Marla and I did in your office. She has a beautiful place, Jeremy. Real close, too. Within walking distance."
Shuffling his toe, he considered the idea.
"Tonight?" he asked, ears burning.
"Un huh!" Leticia sensed his eagerness. "It'll have to be tonight. Michael and Marla are leaving tomorrow afternoon. I'm leaving, too. Looks like it's tonight or never; and Jeremy; you have to get together with Venessa and Candi before we leave. Don't ask why. By now I'm sure you trust my judgment."
Jeremy's movie-mind was projecting vivid pictures of Candi and Venessa together, his cock hardening immediately as he imagined that possible scenario. Ever since meeting her he'd fantasized about fucking the redhead's sweet little ass but had lacked the guts to tell her.
"Okay . . . so it's tonight. I'll get Candi ta meet me when I get off work. Ya know what I want. I want-a see her go down on you. I want-a see her lickin' your asshole while I'm fuckin' hers! I wanta see her tongue goin' up your ass! That'd make my dick real hard! I want-a see up real close! I want-a see the chick's tongue goin' up your ass. You seen her tongue? She can stick it out this far," he grinned, demonstrating with his hand, "Fuck; I sure hope Marla let's me fuck her up the ass again! I want Candi ta suck it out!"
Leticia smiled sweetly, as if discussing the weather.
"She will. Marla wants you to fuck her up her ass again, too, Jeremy . . . and knowing Michael as I do, he'll want to fuck Candi up hers. Is that all right with you?"
Nodding agreeably, Jeremy actually liked the idea of the trade.
"Michael had two orgasms this morning, but I'm sure he'll be good for two more tonight. Be honest, Jeremy. How many can you have?"
Grinning, but not wanting to brag, Jeremy hedged his response.
"Three . . . " he grinned, "maybe four."
"Mmmmmmm, I love it. The joys of being young. Dear boy, don't play with yourself during the day no matter how horny you feel. Save it for tonight, Jeremy. I'll give you directions after I talk with Venessa."
When she turned for the elevator, Jeremy went back to his office. The pile of paper-work wasn't going to get done by itself. His phone rang again and thinking it was Candi, he grabbed the receiver.
"So, how about tonight?"
It was Leticia.
"That's why I'm calling, Jeremy. Are you getting a little anxious? Just teasing! Listen, I just spoke with Venessa and she said tonight would be perfect! She has tomorrow off, too, so the girls can sleep-in. Is that going to work for you?"
"For sure. Gimme directions."
When Leticia handed over the phone, Venessa gave Jeremy the details.
"I'm looking forward to getting together, Jeremy," she glowed, remembering what Leticia had told her. "Leticia described what you had in mind. Candi will adore it! What good fun we'll have! We'll do a buffet, so don't worry about dinner. The two of you should wear something fun tonight; a costume; dress for the occasion. See you at seven."
When she hung up, Jeremy's cock was as hard as rock, making him distract himself with work to keep from thinking about the party. When Candi's call came, he told her how he expected her to dress and where to meet. Properly submissive, she promised to remain so, which aroused him even more.
"Look, if ya want-a suck my dick, you're gunna lick all those girl's assholes, Candi . . . so I can see ya do it. I want-a watch ya stick that long tongue-a yours right up each of those girl's assholes and cunts! Know where I'm gunna cum? You're gunna suck a big load-a my cum out of that Marla's pretty asshole . . . maybe even two loads. Understand?"
"I'll do anything, Jeremy!" she replied, submissively. "Anything you ask me to do! God, Jeremy, if you shoot a load in it, I'll put my tongue anywhere!"
That made him smile. Locking his office, he went to lunch. Food was not only a distraction. He knew he'd need the energy.
Candi was still sitting with her hand on the phone. Sex sure is fun, she thought, acknowledging her early and well-developed sexuality. Jeremy is so funny! I could make him do anything if I wanted! He's just like all the other boys! All I have to do is get down on my knees! Golly, what a great vacation! Missing it like some girls need chocolate, she was unconsciously licking her lips, almost salivating at the thought of getting another big warm mouthful of delicious semen.
* * *
Sex wasn't fun for Tod. His world was much different than Candi's. He waited in the front room while Mr. Scott finished in the bath. Tod could still taste semen and the scent clung to his breath like stale cheese. He didn't like it. Not as much as some of the others boys did, though he liked the way one youth tasted, another run-away from somewhere in Iowa. He'd willingly sucked that boy off three times. Mr. Scott tasted like stale whisky and something worse, but Tod couldn't and didn't want to think about it. There weren't many guests around the pool and he was hoping to see the girl Mr. Scott had been spying on, planning to warn her about what the fat-man wanted to do. Though he hadn't been allowed to go outside or swim, he'd watched the girls while the fat-man had been at the pool. He'd watched with something akin to despair, cock so hard, he'd jacked-off twice.
I wish I knew what it was like with one of them . . . what they taste like, he'd thought.
He'd fantasized about heterosexual sex. He'd tried to have sex with one of Amand's young girls but Amand had caught them just seconds before they did it, the girl with her skirt up and panties down and him with his dick sticking out of his pants. Amand had beat him up badly, then buggered him for an hour before making him suck him off while the frightened girl watched.
"The kid's a queer," he'd sneered at the girl, slapping her face after zipping-up his pants.
The girl had disappeared the next day and Tod never asked questions. A strange noise from the bathroom broke his reflections and he quietly waited for some new demand for him to perform some demeaning act, praying his ass was safe for at least an hour. All he could hear was the sound of running water.
Fifteen minutes later, he tapped lightly on the bathroom door. There was no response, just the sound of running water. The door was locked when he tried to open it so he went back to the bedside table and got his plastic toothpick. Pressing it into the small hole in the latch released the lock. Though the fan was on, the room was full of steam.
"Mr. Scott?" he called, tentatively.
Just the sound of the shower. He went around the marble-tiled corner to the entrance of the shower. The fat-man lay on the floor face down, one arm extended grotesquely as though reaching for something just out of reach. Tod stared, holding his breath, a strange nameless sensation rising in his chest, light-headed and almost dizzy. The fat-man didn't move. When he started seeing tiny flashes of light, Tod began breathing again, grabbing the wall to keep from falling, fighting to keep from loosing consciousness. Stunned, his mind went through the list of people who knew the fat-man: Amand, Douglas, George and the others. Then he thought about how many knew him . . . even knew his real name? None of them, he thought. Leaving the shower running, he took his toothbrush from the sink. He went back to the bedroom and stuffed his clothes into the old black canvas bag he'd arrived with and surveyed the room. His bed was made but Mr. Scott's wasn't. Mr. Scott's clothes were still on the floor, the open bottle of Scotch still on the bedside table. On the chair, half under a flowered silk shirt was the large black leather fanny-pack. Mr. Scott's Rolex and wallet were on the bed. Shuddering like he'd been standing in ice water, he walked around the bed and picked up the leather bag, its weight making him shiver again. He took a deep breath, then opened the zipper and stared at the thick wad of Ben Franklin bills, a stack over four inches thick. Zipping it closed, he fastened it around him and pulled on the adjustable belt, taking in over twenty inches of slack before the bag stayed up at his waist. He went to the bar and found a knife, and with one motion cut off the spare length and put the remnant in his bag. He left the Rolex and the wallet without touching them. Before leaving, he checked himself in the mirror, shocked at the empty reflection.
"Gary Engles," he said to himself. "Not Tod . . . not anymore, ever."
Still shaky, he went to the bath one last time to look at the fat-man laying on the marble floor. It wasn't worth it, he thought. No amount of money could ever be worth it.
Taking a Coke®, from the frig, and after making sure he'd left no fingerprints anywhere, Gary Engles looked out through the blinds. It was late in the afternoon and only two people were at the pool, backs to his room. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door, carefully wiped the inside handle with the white washcloth, closed the door, wiped the outside handle, and put the washcloth inside his baggy shirt. Out on the street alone in a noisy world, Gary Engles was sure no one had seen him leave the hotel or room. Freedom and the sweet sense of relief coming with it were reluctantly testing new ground.
Fuckin running away . . . what a stupid thing that was, he thought, waiting for a light to change. He made himself walk away slowly from the hotel, heading for a part of L.A. not frequented by Amand and his pals. One thing he knew for sure, a very different Gary Engles was going back home.
To Be Continued...