Hi! If you got to this story through normal channels then you probably know all of the usual warnings and have some idea what you’ve found.
However, if you were googling for Sidney Crosby, Kirk McLean, or Henrick Sedin, you ought to go read something else. This story contains some stuff that’s not for children, people offended by textual representations of sex acts, or people with no sense of humour.
Assuming you are still reading, here are the caveats:
- If you don’t think you should be reading this, you probably shouldn’t.
- If you are planning to try any of this stuff, be my guest; don’t expect it to work, and do expect to be arrested.
- If you are going to boost this story and post it elsewhere please contact me first. I probably won’t mind, but it is only fair to find out first.
My thanks go out to Amaranth, Grey Shadow, Checker, and a lurker for their contributions to the crafting of this work.
Master PC: Wing Girls
By William Pratt
Master PC created by JR Parz
The Art of Meeting Girls: Sidney McLean
“OK. Remember to stick to the script,” said Trish. “Stick to the script and you will have no problem picking someone up. You point them out, Kari will case them, Kari or Steph approach them and guide them your way. Play it cool and be yourself or trust me, you will blow it.”
“But...”
Unlike the rest of our party, Trish looked like she had just left the office. Strategically arranged clips kept her black hair up off the collar of a navy blue blazer suitable more for work than clubbing. The rest of her attire played to the same tune: white blouse, long skirt, hose and a pair of functional flats on her feet.
Scary, right? Then a flash of light from the spinning mirror ball illuminated her neckline for an instant. I wasn’t going to guess at her cup-size, but could see enough in the playing shadows and their after image to know she’d look fantastic on the beach. With sights like that, despite the severe attire, I could tell Trish was a stone-cold fox.
Emphasis on cold. Regal didn’t quite cover her bearing, imperial came closer, but still missed out. Looking at her you’d assume lawyer or Wonder Woman in disguise or perhaps Mary Poppins since she was practically perfect in every way. Stick her in club attire or—my heart skipped a beat imagining it—a bikini and she’d be Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. If I had any say in the matter, I would have asked uncle Hank to set me up with her. Instead—
“But nothing. If they don’t like you, it is not meant to be. Remember. The Wing Girls are just aids. You have to seal the deal. We are only here to make you more attractive. With three guys and two girls, obviously there is a hole to be filled. A romantic hates that. Some women will even latch on because you look unavailable. I’ll handle those. Karen takes the others and Stephanie works as back-up. Craig and Jim make it look more like a party.
“It is like a piece of performance art, only it does more than merely look pretty. You are paying for proven success.”
“I ... Uh... I’m....” I was paying for jack and shit. My dad’s older brother Hank was footing the bill. He figured that it was a damn shame I never had the time at Tech to get it on with a woman. And now that I had my Thesis finished, he figured it was time. Was I going to argue? Not much. And not at all after I met Trish Yates and her associates. Any one of the three women.... Wow.
At first glance I thought Uncle Hank had hired prostitutes for me, and I was disgusted. The fact that they were all so hot I couldn’t help getting turned on made it worse, but then Trish explained the plan. I relaxed. A bit.
They were Wing Girls. They were there to help guide a compatible girl my way and make me look less pathetic by mixing me in with women in a social setting. In theory, they also made me look less threatening and more attractive. In the worst case, it gave the target female someone to talk to while they got comfortable around me and realized I wasn’t just another horny creep.
Which is fair. I wasn’t a horny creep, which is why at twenty five I might as well still have been a virgin. The best I could claim was getting drunk at an old gaming buddy’s wedding and not remembering the night I spent with a bride’s maid. She says we had sex. Fortunately, she also says I’m a complete loser, so nothing happened afterward. A very good thing. She didn’t have what you would call a pleasant disposition.
Trish didn’t either, but she made up for it in other ways. They struck an odd balance, “This is a job” versus “You want to fuck me” and certainly made me feel horny. But still not like I was a creep. Really. I was actively trying to not look at her boobs when the mirrorball lit them up.
“You are here because you want to hook up. We are here to hook you up. We are actors. We are the best. All you have to do is play your part. Just don’t be a creep.”
Her blonde partner, Kari, had Trish’s attention, so my eyes took a shot at getting a glimpse into the shadows of her blouse. The mirror ball spun too fast and I never got a—
Eyes up. “I won’t.”
Her eyes narrowed. I don’t think she believed me. Probably why she brought a posse with her. She claimed it was to have more of a “Friends out partying” feel, but with a look at them and then a look at me, a moron would call shenanigans.
Kari, Trish’s number one—a short, studious-looking blonde with petite, rectangular glasses augmenting her amazing green eyes—had a nice body she only gave peeks at. With a demure sweater and skirt, she looked kind of like a school girl tease. She also had a razor-sharp wit. I liked that for about the ten seconds it took to realize Kari wasn’t really interested in discussion as much as scoring points and establishing her place at or near the top of the hierarchy. Any hierarchy. Maybe we could have looked like a pair to a casual observer, but I wasn’t her type. Too much of an intellectual challenge. And too far out of her league.
Besides, she brought her own, and I really felt for the poor guy. I shouldn’t have. Craig Elefante fell off the cover of a romance novel. A beefcake, but he wasn’t dumb or anything. I think he just mastered good natured cluelessness and Kari’s barbed monologues slid off him. Seriously, the guy could do better. I don’t know how he hooked up with Kari, but Trish saw him as protection in case I tried anything stupid. Overkill.
Jim, the other guy, looked about half Craig’s size and could still handle any trouble I could make, hands down. Dark-haired and sickeningly handsome, he probably made even women feel inferior—right up until he lured them into bed. Then they likely felt like they’d won the lottery.
Jim and Craig came as a sort-of pair, bantering back and forth like old friends. They even tried to include me, but our interests only crossed over at video games, and that was limited at best. Jim was a first person shooter fan and I was more into real-time strategy. Craig was a Guitar Hero all the way. For real. Still, they were so good-natured that I could probably hang out with them and be comfortable.
The large party was also training for Stephanie, a part-time model Trish and Kari hired. Out of pity, I think. I didn’t catch much on the way over because they talked around the issue without confronting it, but apparently it was either this or what Kari dismissively called “Expanding The Website.” I didn’t know what site, but I could guess. And I could be fairly certain Stephanie wasn’t the webmaster.
Why Steph had to work for Trish was beyond me. Her parent’s genes skimped on breasts, but nowhere else. She certainly had the looks to make a living in front of the camera. Her face was to die for, symmetrical, high cheeked, and with bow-shaped lips built for kissing. Her body was slender without surrendering much curve, well exercised, and too fine for words. And she had legs. Lord, did she have legs. Put together she had the sort of loveliness you found on the Internet with a much larger set of boobs grafted onto her by some drooling Photoshop geek.
Her pink top looked stretchy enough for the geek to perform miracles. And if not, then the low scoop neck showing off her push-up enhanced cleavage provided a fantastic escape vector, waiting to be filled with round, softly tanned flesh struggling to be free.
And did I mention legs? The skirt Steph wore made sure no one could miss or forget.
Her job was to watch what Kari did and put it into practice. I didn’t mind much because even though she was a little vapid, the tall brunette was great to look at. Better, she wasn’t seeing “her” guy. Or at least I hoped not. Jim was her brother.
Like that made any difference. Taking her home was out of the question. I wasn’t hooking up with any fashion models, even out of work ones, until I earned my first couple million. Seeing how my goal now that I had my doctorate was working on CERN’s Large Hadron Collider, fat effing chance of that.
For about the millionth time I wondered why I didn’t just get an MBA and go working for uncle Hank. He made big money doing whatever he did without seeming to work, and he was always surrounded by women closer to my age than his. I asked him about it once when I was a teen.
“Computers,” was all the paranoid old bastard said.
He was more loquacious when he dropped by the university. Probably because was celebrating another new girlfriend, about my age and hotter than Hell, by staggering around drunk off his ass.
“I make dreams come true.” He belched. His girl, Kandi, giggled. “Us’ally mine. You ever want anythin’, you let me know. How about Kandi? Wanna try her out? C’n always get ‘nother. Plenny prime pussy ‘roun here”
Yes. You bet I did. The girl clearly had no brains at all, but did have the body of a Playmate and the face of a horny freshmen co-ed. Kinda looked like Katherine Moon from down the hall, but better. Much, much better. Take Kathy and trade down her intellect to up her cup-size to drool-worthy and you had Kandi nailed. Not the right thing to say about your uncle’s girlfriend, though. Even if he offered to share. I lied and said no.
He shook his head a little too hard and winced. “You needa relax, kid. I’ll help. When you gradulate, I’m gonna set you up. Yul see.” Uncle Hank shot a huge smile of promise along with a blast of Gojira-class booze breath.
Frankly I should have seen this coming. His idea of setting me up was to surround me with three of the hottest looking girls I’d ever seen on this side of a monitor without any hope of touching even one of them. Thanks Unc. You’re my hero.
That was too harsh. He was trying to set me up, and with someone I have a reasonable chance of keeping. It still wasn’t fair.
So now I sat in Club Zero awaiting a date with Destiny, or any girl who’d actually take me. Dark, loud, but a nice place. Kind of what I’d expected from a dance club, but I really liked the seats. You could spin around in them but they were still comfortable. The mirror ball doing nice things with Trish’s breasts hung over the main floor, turning the dancers into a stroboscopic series of images. If you wanted cozy, you went up the stairs, away from the dance floor. The further you went, the more the place thinned out.
“I’m going to be over there.” Trish pointed to a seat in the next tier of the eating area, up and behind me. I had been positioned with a good view of the dance floor to better spot my one true love. She picked her spot to have a good view of me. “I only step in if it becomes necessary. Maybe I call a target. The real work will be done by Kari, backed by Steph. Start with—”
Trish jolted slightly, then shook her head and pulled a smart phone out of her purse. She tapped it and said, “Excuse me.” before holding it to her ear and shouting, “Patricia Yates.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Fuck you!”
“Calm down? No. I’m not going to calm down. This is something you should have balls to say to my face.”
“I’ll be there in ten. No make it fifteen.”
“Fucker!” With only a small amount of additional force, her finger would have gone right through the phone when she stabbed it to hang up. “Congratulations Steph, graduation. Kari, run things until I get back. This won’t take long. This better fucking not take long.”
Kari’s short blonde hair bobbed as she nodded, her face calm. “I can do it.”
Trish didn’t even respond. She was already half way gone. Someone was going to die. If he got lucky. I wondered if I should call the cops.