Author's note: This is the third part of a five part novella. Each chapter is devoted to a different category of erotica: i.e. lesbian, group, interracial, BDSM, exhibitionism/voyeur (in that order). Although the five parts constitute a complete story I have tried to write each chapter so it could be enjoyed stand-alone as well (although I prefer you read the whole thing of course). I will post each chapter about a week apart. Enjoy!
Paige called Marie that evening. It went straight to voicemail. She hung up without leaving a message and swore at her phone. After spending all day ensconced in her own mind, churning through her recent cavalcade of ever-mounting debauchery, she felt like her sanity was eroding away beneath her. She needed to talk to someone, anyone, about what had been happening lately but she had never really been one to cultivate friends and confidantes. So, reluctantly, she called her sister Tammy.
“Hello?” answered Tammy.
“Can I spend the night out there?” Paige asked immediately.
“Why? What's wrong?”
“I don't want to talk about it on the phone. I'll tell you when I get there.”
She splurged on a taxi to get her out to her sister's house in New Jersey, regretting it as she paid the driver with several twenties. Her sister met her at the door, her face turned down in a concerned frown. Paige hated that look. Since her near-terminal illness nobody in Paige's family seemed able to look at her without that same stupid expression on their face.
“I don't want to talk about it right now.”
“You came all the way out here…”
“I just want to do something wholesome; family stuff. Is there a Disney movie or something we can take The Larva to?” Paige asked, using their nickname for her young nephew, Art Junior.
Tammy gave her a suspicious look. “Wholesome, huh?”
“I'll tell you why later… I promise.”
So Paige ended up taking little Art Junior to see a shitty kid's movie while Tammy and Art stayed home. The grateful horniness with which they practically tossed their son at Paige left no doubt that Paige's urge for wholesomeness would have a lusty flip-side. Unsurprisingly, that's all Paige could think about during the movie.
After returning home, eating dinner and playing with The Larva for a while before Art took him away to bed, Paige and Tammy snuck off to speak privately. Tammy was giving her looks of impatient curiosity as they sat down at the breakfast nook but Paige was still not ready to start.
“You and Art have a good time alone?” she asked, sipping the glass of wine Tammy had placed before her.
“A long shower, I blew him a little, then three minutes of pure heaven.”
“That's not a complaint! It'd been awhile. Two minutes was all I needed,” said Tammy. She wiggled her eyebrows.
“That's… um, good.”
“OK. Cut the crap, Paige. What's up with you? What's wrong?”
And so Paige told her. She hemmed and hawed at first, speaking reluctantly and slowly, but, as she warmed up to her confession, she began to gush the lurid details of her recent sex life, or rather an edited version thereof. In her telling, Marie was a guy named Marty and Tony didn't have his friend Neil along for their romp. Doug's story she left as-is. However, even with the edits, Tammy was surprised.
“You've screwed three different guys in a week?”
“Well… eight days…” And it was actually three guys and a woman… she added in her mind.
“Jesus, Paige…” she said, shaking her head slowly. “This isn't who you are. You're the smart one, remember? Start acting like it.”
“Well you had your slutty phase.”
“I was a kid. You're twenty eight years old.”
“But… guys pay attention to me now.”
Tammy puffed out an exasperated breath. “Will you listen to yourself? You've been given a second chance at life. You only want to spend it letting guys use you like that?”
“Can't I get a little understanding? Don't you remember what it was like having every guy want you?”
Tammy gave her a sad look. Paige returned it. Motherhood had not been kind to Tammy. She used to be the pretty sister, running with a different wild boy every week. Now she was doughy and careworn with the blandly grinding concerns of parenthood.
“I know. I know. Look, it's not like I wouldn't be tempted if I was single and every hot guy in town suddenly took an interest in me, but you have to be aware that to these guys you are nothing more than three holes and a pair of tits.”
“I'm just trying to be clear that these guys don't respect you.”
“Tam, I have a master's degree and a career that pays well; I've had lots of important conversations with guys who didn't use it as an excuse to try to get me into bed. Believe me; I've had plenty of respect. It's overrated.”
Tammy gave her a long hard look. “Well, be that as it may, I have a request for you.”
“Please don't tell me this stuff. I've been feeling kinda… well, trapped lately being at home with The Larva all day. Hearing about you cavorting around the city with three guys a week isn't going to help.”
“You're telling me to shut up about my problems?”
Tammy snorted in derision. “No. I'm asking you not to brag… If you have any actual problems I'll listen, but having hot guys falling all over you because you finally lost some weight doesn't qualify.”
“But I'm not used to this… I don't know what I'm doing…”
Tammy laughed at her. “You really need advice? OK. Don't be stupid. Use protection, don't get pregnant, don't get an STD. Other than that, I don't know what to tell you.”
Paige frowned. “OK… I guess.”
“And don't tell Art either. I don't want him tossing off to fantasies of you fucking your way through Manhattan…I already caught him checking out your ass twice today.
“I can't blame him, I guess. Mom said you'd spent that month you stayed with them after you got out of the hospital just exercising all day. I can see you've kept at it… I wonder if Art was pretending I was you when we boinked this evening.”
“Tammy! Don't tell me that.”
“Fair enough… Mutual code of silence then, little sis?”
“I guess. But who will I talk to about this stuff?”
“You can always call dad.”
They had a good laugh about that.
After church the next morning they went out to eat. After that, Paige took the train back into the city. A handsome guy in a button down shirt and khakis had flirted with her and she'd flirted back but when he made a proposition that she join him in the toilet she demurred. Tammy would have been proud. However the stranger's desire had managed to re-ignite her libido. As Paige stood in the elevator on the foyer level of her apartment building she looked at the fifth floor button and tried to reason herself out of dropping in on Tony.
She was not successful. She stepped into the fifth floor corridor with her pussy already beginning to dampen. She walked down the hall to Tony's apartment, fighting herself over each step forward.
As she drew closer, she saw his door was open. She could smell paint. She poked her head in and saw an empty one bedroom apartment with a mirror image layout to her own. An old black man with a wiry tuft of white hair wrapped around the back of his head was rolling white paint onto the wall and listening to gospel music on an old, paint-speckled boom-box. The air was nice and cool.
The man smiled at her. “Help you ma'am?”
“Did Tony move out?”
“I don't know nothin' 'bout no one named Tony. I'm just paid to paint this here 'partment. They say they wanted it done tomorrow but I thought I'd go ahead and get it done tonight… so I can go fishin' tomorrow. My grandson's gonna be home from the Navy for a few days, y'see.”
“Oh,” said Paige. She looked up and down the hall. Did she have the wrong apartment?
“Y'see, I should be finished already, but I came here earlier — 'bout noon I suppose it was – and they had the heat turned up to eighty-eight. Can you believe that? Eighty-eight. I had to come back after it cooled down. I can't take the heat like I could when I was a young man, I swear to God.”
“The heat in this apartment was turned up to eighty-eight?”
“That's what I said, isn't it?”
So this must be the Old Geezer Next Door's apartment, she reckoned. Had he died? Maybe he was lying next door dying as Paige and Tony and Neil had their three-way. Paige shivered. She said, “I guess the guy I'm looking for lives next door.”
“He must be a lucky cat to have a pretty lady like you huntin' him down.”
Paige smiled a goodbye and went to the next door down the corridor. A skinny, middle-aged homosexual answered. “Yes?”
“I'm sorry, I think I have the wrong apartment. I was looking for a guy named Tony.”
“I… I don't know.”
“Well sweetie, I doubt any of my Tonys are the one you're looking for anyway.”
Paige couldn't argue with that. She thanked him and went to the other apartment flanking the one being painted. She knocked and a chubby, middle-aged woman with a scrunched face opened the door.
“Yeah?” said the woman. She seemed annoyed at being bothered.
“Does a guy named Tony live here?”
“Ha. I wish!” said the woman.
Paige thanked her and looked up and down the hall quizzically. She must have been more stoned and fuck-dazed than she'd thought when she'd been down there. That was the only possible answer. She decided to come back later and ask around. Right now she was getting the creeps, although she couldn't put her finger on why.
Monday morning: Marie still hadn't called back, her sister didn't want to talk to her and Tony had apparently disappeared off the face of the earth. Paige was feeling low, used and abandoned. At work but unable to focus on the financial intricacies of Oreskos Corporation's various property investments, she left her cubical and drifted to the break-room. She stared at the Snickers bar in the vending machine for ten minutes. She got out a crisp dollar bill and put it back twice before she finally turned away. Feeling better for having won a skirmish with temptation she stepped back into the hall. She found Doug standing there waiting for her.
“Hey Paigey, you're looking fine today.”
“Oh. Hi Doug.”
“Aren't you going to ask about the party on Friday?”
Paige sighed. “How was your party on Friday?”
“Lonely! You ditched me, remember? But I don't hold grudges… not against lovely hotties like yourself anyway. But now I figure you kind of owe me…”
“I don't owe you anything Doug.”
“Bad choice of words. Let me just ask you a favor then.”
“I just ask that you remember me. That's all. Could you do that… just remember me?”
“Remember you?” she sighed. “Of course I remember you. That's why I'm using your name, Doug.“
“Noooo,” he laughed with forced mirth. “I mean…” he looked over his shoulder and up and down the hallway. “You are on your way up babe; on your way to bigger and better things. I just want you to remember ol' Dougie when you're hot shit someday. Remember who discovered you.”
Paige's patience finally ran out. “Discovered me? I'm not the New World or something. What the hell are you even talking about anyway?”
Security didn't come up to accounting very frequently – not unless someone was being escorted out of the building following an unpleasant firing — so it was notable when a six foot five black man in the standard gray polyester security uniform came striding around the corner. He seemed oddly formidable for corporate security. She'd thought they only hired cop-wannabes rejected by every police force in the metro area. This guy looked like he could single-handedly hold back whatever army you happened to have with you at the time. One thing was obvious: his eyes were fixed on Doug and he was coming toward them at a quick walk. Doug saw him and his face dropped.
“Mr. Parker, Sir,” said the guard with a forced obsequiousness that came out sounding like a threat.
“Uh… yeah?” asked Doug. He had gone pale.
“There is an important matter requiring your attention. May I speak to you privately?”
“I'm kind of busy.”
“This comes from very high up… Sir. I suggest you hear me out.”
Doug turned to Paige. “I'd better see what he needs.”
“Yup. You better,” said Paige, smiling from ear to ear. She caught the eye of the security guard — Lucas Burr, said his name tag — and he answered her smile with a slight twinkle in his eye. He motioned Doug towards a meeting room across the hall and let his eyes linger on Paige before he turned to follow.
Was Doug getting fired? Paige snuck up the closed door of the conference room and put her ear to it. The conversation didn't travel well through the wood. She could hear the sound of Doug and Officer Burr's voices but not the meaning. Every once in awhile Burr's impossibly deep voice would rise in volume enough for a few words to make it through: “…God help you if you fuck this up…” (mumble, mumble) “… don't forget who's running this goddamned party…” (mumble, mumble) “…I told you, I don't fuckin' care if you saw her first…” (mumble, mumble) “…it's a special fuckin' project, that's why…” et cetera. She couldn't hear anything Doug said other than his pathetic, whimpering tone. Paige slipped away when it seemed that the rhythm of their conversation indicated they were headed for a wrap-up.
Feeling uneasy, she returned to her desk with the distinct impression she had been the topic of Lucas Burr's tirade. But who the hell was Lucas Burr to her and why would he interfere to keep Doug away from her? And then there were the bits and pieces of conversation she had picked up. He had told Doug not to “fuck this up”; fuck what up? He mentioned a party; what party? And who was running “this goddamned party” anyway? And he referred to a “special project”? Paige dug out Marie's business card and read: “Marie MacDougall. Human Resources — Special Projects.”
What the hell was going on?
She called Marie. Marie seemed to know everyone and be aware of everything going on. Surely she'd have a reasonable explanation for all of this. But Marie's phone went straight to voicemail, just as it had all weekend. It was only when Paige decided to seek Marie out in person that she noticed Marie's business card had no office number listed. Stymied, Paige sat back helplessly and fought back the paranoid panic growing within her.
She had to do something… but what? She considered talking to Doug again, but that required talking to Doug, again. Besides after receiving a forceful talking to from a huge African American security guard, Doug would definitely consider answering any of her questions a favor worthy of “repayment”. Of course there was Lucas Burr. She remembered how he'd looked her over. He might be willing to chat…
Paige took the elevator down to the lobby and approached the information kiosk. The two guards behind the semicircular counter gave each other a significant look as she approached.
“Can I help you Miss?” asked one of the guards politely. His tag said his name was Laurence Rosedale.
“I need to speak to one of your colleagues. His name is Lucas Burr.”
The guards looked at each other again before Rosedale asked: “Concerning what, may I ask?”
“It's a personal matter.”
“I'll… um, see if I can get him,” said Rosedale. “Who shall I say is looking for him?”
The other guard watched as Rosedale punched a number into the phone. “Some woman is looking for Luke… says her name is Paige Hellar…. A personal matter, she said… Umm Hmm… I know… Right.” Rosedale put his hand over the mouthpiece and spoke to Paige. “He's not available right now.”
The two guards looked at each other significantly again. Rosedale put the phone to his mouth again. “She says she'll wait.” His eyes shifted around the ceiling as he waited for an answer. Finally he responded: “OK, will do.”
“OK. Come with me Miss Hellar,” said Rosedale as he stepped out of the kiosk and started towards the back of the lobby.
She followed him to a steel door behind the cluster of elevators. He led her down a series of bland hallways until he showed Paige into a scuffed-up room with a metal table and several metal chairs. There was a long mirror along one wall of the room.
“Wait here please,” he said and left the room. The door closed behind him with a loud click.
Paige looked at the mirror and was confronted with a full view of her new slender self, dressed for business and looking out of place in the dingy interrogation room. She put her face to the glass, trying to peer through to see if anyone was on the other side. “Anyone in there?” she asked loudly. There was no answer. She pulled a chair up to the mirror and sat with her back to the glass. And she waited.
Lucas Burr showed up fifteen minutes later. He smiled at her as he entered the room. “Someone said you wanted to speak to me,” he said.
Paige had cooled down somewhat. No longer full of indignant fury at the possibility that she had been discussed at a meeting to which she had not been invited, she fumbled for a way to begin.
“Hi. Hello. I'm, um, Paige Hellar,” she said. She stood and extended her hand.
Lucas Burr lightly took her hand and gave it the faintest of squeezes. “Very pleased to meet you, Miss Hellar.”
“I… um… I wanted to know… um… What were you saying about me to Doug?”
Burr smiled innocently. “I didn't discuss you with Mr. Parker in any way, Miss. I don't even know you.”
“Well, what were you talking to Doug about?”
Burr laughed gently. “I can't discuss that Ma'am. You know that.”
“Did Doug put me on a list of easy sluts or something?”
“Not that I'm aware of Miss.”
“He implied he discovered me. I don't know what that would mean otherwise.”
“Whatever issues you have with Mr. Parker, I suggest you take them up with him, Ma'am.”
Burr laughed deeply and slowly. “Look, Miss Hellar. I know what this is all about. You're not the first.”
“I'm not? The first what?”
Lucas Burr stepped closer to her, filling her personal space. Instinctually, she took a step back. The backs of her knees came up against the chair behind her and she dropped into it. Burr took another step forward so his dark bulk towered over her. He reached up and gently brushed the side of her face with his fingertips. Paige swatted his hand away.
“You're not the first office girl here who got curious about gettin' some dark meat.”
“Whoa!” said Paige as she pulled herself up out of the chair. She put a hand against Burr's chest to push him away. The firmness of his massive pectoral muscles surprised her. She could feel the power in them as he let her move him back a couple of feet. “I didn't come down here to…”
Lucas Burr took her wrist in his massive paw and slid her open palm down his body. She tried to pull away as he moved her hand nearer his belt buckle but he held her close.
“I liked the way you told me you were an 'easy slut'. Very subtle. Heh heh heh.”
Down he moved her hand. Down over the front of his pants until it rested atop the bulge of his cock. It twitched noticeably through his trousers as she let her fingers close on it.
“What do you think you're doing?” She asked quietly, breathily.
“Helping you make up your mind.”
“What are you going to do to me?”
He got in close, his face inches from hers. “As much as I can get away with.”
His palms were on her shoulders now. She left her hand where it was, still cradling his manhood through his pants. She could feel it grow as she gave it a gentle squeeze. She felt herself go wet at the sensation.