Unexpected Invitation

Dressed for the pool, I left the bathroom and walked through the bedroom to the glass doors, out into the scorching sunlight of the slate patio. Bill and Coffey had been joined by a rejuvenated Lawson in the pool, and the three of them were laughing and splashing while Kyle looked on from a deck chair, a pint of what appeared to be gin and tonic sitting on the ground beside him. At the other end of the yard, Lewis was playing on his putting green while George and Colin took practice swings. Fisher emerged from the living room carrying a beer and a plate of sandwiches; he met my gaze, blushed slightly as he looked away, and joined the golfers. I let out a long breath in frustration at the first-ever awkwardness between us, and hoped it would pass quickly.

The horseplay in the pool had stopped as soon as I emerged from the bedroom. Whether it was due to manners in the presence of a "lady" or distraction at the generous exposure of female skin, I wanted the jackassery to resume ASAP. I leapt from the pool's slate edge, tucking my knees into my belly and cannon-balling into the center of the three boys. My splash even reached Kyle's chair to everyone's amusement. I surfaced, floating on my back as my baked body cooled in the water.

"At least we know you'll never sink!" Kyle teased from the patio as he wrung out his shirt. The others joined him in a laugh, while each sneaking a conspicuous glance at my floatation devices. A playful splash to Coffey's face reignited the water fight and seemed to return me to my status as "one of the guys." Soon the gossip began, as Bill teased Coffey that he and his girlfriend of three years would be next down the aisle. Coffey retorted, asking how Bill's progress on his "baseball team of sons" was coming. With a look of feigned disappointment, Bill replied that he would likely have to settle for a hockey team.

"What about you, McGee? You got a special fella back home?" Lawson grinned as he turned the attention to me. From his chair, Kyle answered for me.

"McGee prefers to play the field. Love 'em and leave 'em, that's how you play it, right?" I put all the strength I could muster into the wall of water that I pushed towards Kyle's poolside throne.

"No, I'm not seeing anyone seriously. Haven't really dated anyone since John and I broke up last fall."

Floating by on his back, Coffey interjected, "Maybe you should get with a brotha if these white boys aren't getting the job done." Coffey was by most accounts the most accomplished student-athlete to ever come out of his elite New England prep school, and his impression of a street tough was even worse than he intended.

"What, are you volunteering? Do you want to avoid letting Sandra make an honest man out of you so badly that you want her to murder you in your sleep?" I dunked his head under the water, but he rose swiftly and grabbed me as he surfaced, tossing me across the small pool with a laugh and a splash.

"Hey!" Kyle took three large mouthfuls of gin and tonic as he protested. "I'm the birthday princess-"

"'Bachelor,' you knob." Bill corrected, but Kyle ignored him.

"-so if anyone gets to sex McGee, it should be me!" He finished the last two mouthfuls of his drink and stood regally at the pool's edge. With telekinetic coordination, Lawson and Coffey leapt from the water, grabbing Kyle by the arms and dragging him into the pool. The ensuing splash-fight drew Fisher, George, Lewis, and Colin from the other end of the yard, as the entire party packed into the small pool.

The rest of the afternoon passed as alcohol was absorbed and friendly insults were swapped even more freely. At six, Fisher called for everyone's attention.

"Ok, now that everyone has sobered up - and subsequently un-sobered up - we should talk about tonight. Gerard is going to pick us up at eight, so that gives you two hours to get your hair just right; looking at you there, Billy-boy." Bill winked and ran his fingers through his brown buzzcut in response. I stepped forward, wrapped in a towel.

"I should probably go first, huh?" Fisher nodded. "Ok, I'll be in the far bathroom. No one sneak in there." I winked at Fisher as I walked into the bedroom. Grabbing my outfit along the way, I locked myself in the bathroom then dropped my towel and tossed my damp bikini on the counter as I stepped into the glass cube of the shower.

I turned on the water and stepped in, soaping my body and hair as I luxuriated in the steamy spray. The luxury fixture pulsed and traded streams, soothing my back and shoulders after the long flight. The pulsating jets summoned muscle-memories of a fancy hotel room in London, and the instruction of the steely, dominant stranger who had accompanied me to my room from the downstairs bar... how he'd instructed me to use a similar showerhead on myself in front of him, and the soaring orgasm that had preceded a night of exhilarating, near-anonymous sex.

I turned to face the showerhead, positioning the spray to focus on my awakening loins, the jets beating rhythmically on my throbbing clitoris as I gently toyed the nub between two fingers. 'What was his name?' I stroked my button more vigorously as I recalled his hands on me, my mouth on him, the buzz of that first, unfamiliar penetration... 'What was his name?!' My mind reached a block with the realization that not only was his name forgotten, but his face was lost as well.

As I pressed my two fingers harder onto my clit, bringing myself to the edge of climax, I realized that I was picturing Fisher in place of the forgotten gentleman. I braced myself against the marble wall as my body spasmed against my hand, while in my mind Fisher railed me from behind before directing me to my knees as he ejaculated into my gaping mouth, feeding me every drop as the British stranger had. A small murmured syllable "Fihhh-" escaped my trembling lips as my climax faded and my eyes opened. Shutting off the water, I recalled our earlier awkwardness and shook my head at the betrayal by my own mind. "God dammit, don't do that." I muttered at my own brain as I grabbed two fluffy towels and got to work drying my body and hair.

After thoroughly toweling off my body and blow-drying and loosely curling my hair, I pulled on a navy blue g-string, feeling the thread back disappear unfamiliarly into the nook between my cheeks. I grimaced at the alien sensation, but accepted that that was what the garment was meant to do. I took my dress off the hanger, watching the sequined patterns dance from purple to blue and green as they shifted in the light, then stepped into the gown. Pulling the straps to my shoulders, I reached behind me to the base of my spine, tugging the zipper closed at the small of my back. The dramatic scoop-back of the dress didn't permit a bra, but as I spun a sparkly circle in front of the mirrors, my firm breasts defied gravity as they stood out effortlessly beneath the body-hugging fabric.

Tugging the hem down to its stopping-point above my mid-thigh, I stepped into my black patent four-inch heels. I didn't get dressed up like this often, but turning another circle before the mirror, I smiled at the result of my preening. The shimmering fabric embraced my round ass like a second, exotic skin, while simultaneously leading the eye both upward to the creamy skin of my bare back and downward to the high-heels-enhanced line of my legs. I might have been "one of the guys," but I certainly didn't look like one of them tonight.

The uniform for the night for the group seemed to be suits in a rainbow of greys, with no ties. The conversation stopped among the group of six assembled in the living room ceased as I reached the end of the hall. George's grip on his highball glass slipped, as he urgently fumbled to place his drink on a coaster to avoid a spill. I theatrically rolled my eyes at the sudden change and playfully tossed a pillow from the couch at Kyle's head, saying "I couldn't find a hooded sweatshirt fancy enough for the occasion."

Fisher cleared his throat and checked his watch as he resumed his emcee duties. "While we're waiting on Lawson and Coffey to finish doing each other's makeup or whatever it is they're up to in the bathroom - and I hope they wrap up soon since I don't want to keep Gerard waiting - who has room keys? The club is on the casino property, so it should be easy enough for everyone to find their way home as they get grumpy and tired... Looking at you, Lewis." Lewis let out an exaggerated yawn in response. As he closed his mouth, the missing members joined the group and we were out the door on our way to the drive.

"You look really great tonight, Sarah." Kyle locked arms with me as we walked.

"Thanks. You look pretty damn sharp, yourself." I reached across him to straighten his pocket square as Fisher appeared at my other side and hooked his elbow into my bare arm. Bookended between my guys, I beamed even as we broke apart to climb into the car.

Following a long, delicious meal filled with lengthy comic narratives and constant ball-busting (as well as generous wine service), we were returned to the hotel's property. Arriving at the club entrance after eleven, Fisher approached the black-suit-clad head bouncer and loudly quipped, "We have a table reserved for nine at eleven thirty. The reservation should be under 'Bachelor Party Princess'." He turned and grinned proudly to the group; Kyle beamed back.

The bouncer checked his clipboard and looked over our group, then leaned in to concernedly whisper to Fisher. Standing almost-even with the enormous bouncer-boss, Fisher's eyes lost their laughter for a brief moment as he spoke, his words drowned out by the blaring music beyond the door. The other man nodded, then instructed another large man in a black suit to show us to our booth. In the three steps it took us to join Fisher, his eyes had regained their happy spark as he put his arm around my shoulders.

We were escorted to one of the narrow leather U-shaped booths, separated from the dancefloor by a row of high-top tables. The oblong table was laid with silver buckets of liquor bottles and carafes of mixers. I slid my butt across the leather seat, stopping next to Kyle as Fisher's momentum "accidentally" sent his hip crashing into mine.

"Careful, man! There's a beverage involved!" I hoisted my brimming champagne flute in sarcastic protest. Fisher responded by clinking the base of a bottle of whiskey to my glass as he poured himself a drink. I leaned in to be heard over the club's pounding music. "What did the bouncer say to you?" He shook his head as he sipped. "Come on, dude! Did he think we were too drunk? Fisher!" I playfully shoved him, but he didn't smile. He pursed his lips and drew in a deep breath as he set his glass on the table.

"The bouncer helpfully advised me that they don't allow guests to bring escorts into the club..." his voice trailed off. I twisted my face in confusion before grasping the extent of what he had told me.

"Wait..." Fisher closed his eyes and nodded slowly. "...he thought that I..." He took another drink and wiped his lips with a napkin. "...was a..."

"Yeah. Now don't take this the wrong way, but without context the group might give off that sort of vibe. Look at it from the outside; you have one gorgeous, chic girl, dressed to kill, walking in with a group of eight guys of varying levels of... shall we say 'sophistication.'" He indicated across the table to Bill and George, eating citrus garnish slices and engineering prosthetic lips from the rinds. My indignation waned.

"I guess... I mean, if I'm going to be confused for a hooker, at least in Vegas the escorts are hot! I'd be more insulted if we were in AC." Fisher smiled with relief. We leaned back into the padded bench, surveying the raucous dancefloor. I tipped my head in his direction as I half-shouted against the music. "Just one more thing, then I'll drop it, I promise!"

"Mmhmm?" He replied, his eyes still focused on the party.

"Why did that guy assume I was the hooker and not the John? How did he know I didn't hire eight goofball gigolos to show me around town?" Fisher cackled as he wrapped his burly arm around me and refilled my glass. We sat like that for a while, talking quietly and observing the excitement of the club as the other members of our party came and went. Colin reappeared to refill his vodka and reached his hand out to me.

"Come on, McGee! It's just me and Lawson dancing together right now; people are getting the wrong idea!" Not being much of a dancer, I crinkled my nose. Fisher replied for me.

"Are you sure that's the 'wrong idea?' I think you're cute together." Colin slowly blinked at Fisher for a response, then turned back to me.

"Come on! I promise not to make you fall in love with me!" He grinned.

"Won't my presence bust up your, uh, 'game', if that's what you're calling it?" I could tell there was no way out of this so I began to slide out from Fisher's arm. Besides that, even as dance-averse as I was, it felt silly being in a Vegas nightclub and not dancing.

Colin waved dismissively. "Please, the presence of a girl attracts other girls. Everyone knows that; it's science!" He threw his hands in the air in celebration as I stood from the booth.

"So I'm the decoy on the duck pond of your penis?" I punched Colin in the arm as Kyle and Coffey reappeared, flagging down the others as they presented their tray of shot glasses, limes, and a bottle of tequila.

"A toast to the Bachelor Party Princess!" Coffey announced as we raised our glasses.

"And to penis duck pond decoys!" Colin added enthusiastically to near-universal confusion. He and Lawson each grabbed a hand as they pulled me to the dance floor. Colin's theory astoundingly proved correct; no more than five minutes after I joined them, he and Lawson were separated from me, each of them chatting up a bottle-blonde twenty-something in a slinky, sparkly dress.

Alone on the dance floor, I began to return to the table when two arms encircled my waist, one pushing a glass of champagne into my hand.

"Fisher, you startled m-" My words caught in my throat as I looked down at the shimmering silver shirt sleeves, ending in wrists wrapped in gold chain bracelets. I spun away, holding the glass away from my body as I sized up the stranger who had brought it. He was a little under six feet tall, dressed in a silver button down and black pants. Above his leering face he wore a thorny crown of spiked black hair.

"Hey. I like your dress." I took a step back. "What's wrong, baby? I thought since your boyfriends were busy, you needed some company." He stepped towards me, an unnerving smile splitting his face.

"Thanks, but I was just returning to my friends." I went to move around him, but he was undeterred and blocked my path, trying to dance with me.

"Yeah, I saw you and your group. Which one of those guys is your boyfriend?" I backed away again, but was retreating in the wrong direction from the safety of the table.

"None of them is my boyfriend. I really want to go now." My back met a rail. His menacing smile widened as he closed, placing a slimy hand on my hip.

"Oh! So you're a pro? And you do groups? Whatever they're paying you, I'll double it!" His hand slithered up my side, caressing the glittery fabric rising along my ribs, before unashamedly cupping my breast. "God damn, these tits are real, aren't they?! You don't see a lot of working girls without implants in this town!"

His fingers contracted around my tit as he leaned in to kiss me. Writhing and dodging his advance, I stepped to my right and tried to break away, but his other hand grabbed my wrist. "Where do you think you're running off to, bitch? Don't you want to make some bread? I'll treat you right... Here, why don't you have a drink?" Gripping my hand, he tried to force the glass to my lips.

"Get away from me!" I shouted as I pushed past him, shoving my shoulder hard into his torso as I tried to break free. Refusing to release his grip, he overturned the glass in my hand, dumping champagne onto my chest and sending the flute crashing to the floor.

"LET! HER! GO!" The bellow cut through the music as three enormous forms emerged from the crowd. The creep released his grip in fearful surprise, and I ran directly into Fisher's arms, burying my face in his chest as Coffey and Lewis continued advancing on my shrinking assailant. After a brief discussion, the sleaze made a beeline for the exit.

Fisher patted my hair as I sobbed against him. "Guys, I'm gonna take her back to the room. You stay here with the group. She'll be fine, we just need to get cleaned up." Wrapping his jacket around my shoulders, Fisher walked me out of the club as I clung to his side, hiding my tear-streaked face from the other guests beneath his coat as I burrowed into his ribs.

We entered the empty villa and I waited in the hall as Fisher hurried to the media room. He returned with a bottle of club soda from the bar, then led me to the bathroom. I folded his coat and placed it on the counter as he ran a washcloth under cold water and began wiping my puffy, flushed cheeks. Placing the damp rag in my hand, Fisher turned back to the counter and poured club soda onto another towel.

"Did he hurt you?" Fisher's jaw clenched with steely concern but his eyes glistened with caring as he dabbed the stretchy fabric along my collar bone.

"No. I'm just humiliated." I replied, swabbing messy streaks of dried salt and makeup from my cheeks. "Why does everyone think I'm a hooker?" A fresh tear rolled down my cheek and Fisher hurriedly caught it with his towel.

"Sarah, I refuse to believe that you would let the opinion of some lounge-lizard scumbag bother you like this."

"What about the bouncer? He almost didn't let me in for being a prostitute!" My lips quivered.

"Sarah..." he repeated my proper name as he trailed off, still pressing the damp towel to the soiled fabric of my dress. "Like we talked about at the club, that was a reflection on the nerdy guys you were with." He hooked the finger of his other hand under my chin, raising my face to meet his gaze. "I mean, it's hard to believe that eight dorks like us would be lucky enough to be with you otherwise." His eyes sparkled with warmth as he smiled. I returned Fisher's tender gaze as a final tear trickled from my eye, falling down my cheek and landing on Fisher's hand.

Following the teardrop's flight, Fisher and I looked down in astonishment as we simultaneously perceived his hand resting on my heaving, champagne-soaked breast. He cautiously began to pull away as our eyes rose from my chest and his hand to each other's face. We froze for an eternal moment; the soft flesh of my globe bending beneath his fingertips. I felt my own elevated heartrate rhythmically raising my breast against his palm. We held our breath, afraid to stir and unable to retreat. The moment broke and our lips pressed together in a desperate, passionate kiss.

Our mouths locked as we dragged our bodies together in a vice-like embrace. Fisher dropped the towel as his hand zealously cupped and molded my breast. His other hand brushed across my cheek as he gripped the corner of my jaw. My arms wrapped around his large frame, I frantically tugged his shirt from the waist of his pants, my hands ducking below the fabric and pressing across the smooth skin of his back.

His fingers traced below my ear, following the curve of my neck to the shoulder strap of my dress. Pushing the sequined band down my arm, his other hand released its grip on my breast for a moment to tug the other strap free. I let go of Fisher as I freed my arms and let the top of the dress fall, liberating my bare tits into the bathroom light.

"Wow..." was all Fisher could stammer.

"You like them?" I flirtily bowed my shoulders to enhance their ripe appearance atop my ribcage.