TRANCE, Inc. — Chapter 11
The first thing I knew when Amber and I walked into the boutique was that I knew nothing. For someone who was accustomed to visiting the discount department store hoping to score tee shirts with fun designs or cheap formalwear, the place was overwhelming.
The floor and shelves were all a rich, dark wood. The man who opened the door was stylish, in a way that even I could pick up on. His smile was bright and courteous, and he gestured expansively with one hand as we came through the door.
“Welcome in,” he said. “Please let us know if there’s anything we can help you with.” His look turned from Amber to me, and I could tell he was trying not to do a double-take.
I know, I know, I thought, abruptly aware that next to Amber my loose tee shirt and comfy jeans were probably a lot less than flattering. But I was already following my girlfriend as she headed determinedly for what was clearly the men’s half of the store, and I didn’t look back at the greeter. Then, I was too busy to think about it.
In the next fifteen minutes of browsing the shelves with my girlfriend, I learned more about the fundamentals of style than I ever expected. To my surprise, it wasn’t that hard. It was actually relatively straightforward, at least how Amber explained it.
“What about this?” I’d say, holding up a comfy XL shirt, and Amber would spend the next three minutes explaining how and why, “Men in clothes that flop off their bodies look like overgrown boys. No offense, baby.”
The selection, even in this medium-sized shop, was overwhelming. I felt like this was the place where people with money shopped — like the twins’ family, or people who vacationed in the Hamptons. There were lots of polo shirts and cardigans, shelves of chinos and dress pants, and hanger after hanger of jackets in a range of fabrics and colors. I let Amber take over with the actual selections, while I let my eye roam and haphazardly snagged articles as the fancy struck.
I got a kick out of trying on the long, black winter coat. I thought it made me look like a London banker from the 1800s, or someone out of A Christmas Carol. I just needed a bowler hat.
Amber, though, rolled her eyes. “Taking this as an example,” she said, with a sweeping gesture down my body, “another general style improvement comes in using contrast. Here, you’ve got a dark top,” she flicked a finger at my navy tee, “dark bottom,” at my jeans, “and a dark jacket. Very little contrast. All of them are also too big for you,” she added with a critical glance. “You should probably be wearing medium or small sizes, whenever possible. And more tailored jeans.”
I opened my mouth to protest that I hadn’t worn anything size medium since middle school, but my girlfriend’s eyebrows come together.
“Today,” she informed me with a half-joking sternness, “I am your style sensei.”
I laughed softly.
“Say it,” she insisted, looking at me with those big blue eyes.
“You’re my style sensei,” I said.
“And your style sensei knows best.”
I grinned. “Alright,” I agreed, stepping forward and kissing her quickly on the cheek. “She knows best. Thank you for your help.”
Amber nodded, smiling cutely and blushing. Then, she tossed her hair back and continued to browse in a businesslike manner. Once, a salesgirl came by to help us measure my arms and shoulders for a jacket, and I admired the way her skirt clung to her ass and hips as she walked away.
I winced guiltily at Amber when she caught my eye, but the stunning blonde just winked. “Another illustration of my point,” she said. “Tight clothes look better.”
I nodded slowly, resolving to remember Amber’s lessons.
When we finally wound up at the central counter and we laid out our purchases, I was happy I was pulling out Mike Lassiter’s card to pay and not my own. Even though we had only grabbed what Amber considered to be “just a few essentials” — a couple tops, some chinos and a grey jacket that, I had to admit, felt pretty damn sexy to wear — I had been watching the price tags. We were easily spending more on clothes than I had in the past year, maybe two years. The salesgirl from earlier rang up my purchases, exchanging a few pleasantries with Amber. She glanced at me once or twice, but I could tell that she took my appearance like an affront to the establishment.
As soon as Lassiter’s card was swiped, Amber leaned forward on her elbows and shot a glance between the girl and me. It was a knowing glance, and the girl raised her eyebrows.
“Yes?” she asked politely.
Amber smiled. “I know my boyfriend’s style isn’t tip top right now,” she said conspiratorially. “Do you think he could use your dressing room quickly to change into something better?”
Hey! I thought, but the woman had already giggled and nodded to Amber, gesturing to the back of the boutique. I had already visited the dressing room, but I’d put back on my tee and jeans in order to pay.
“What was that?” I asked, as my girlfriend led me by the hand to the back of the store.
Amber paused at the doors, lowering the bag of purchases and turning to face me. She gave me an honest glance. “Chance,” she said. “You came with me this afternoon because I am giving you the very beginnings of your total style makeover. This is the first step. And I want you to see something,”
I groaned in protest — Clothes shouldn’t feel like work, I silently complained —, but my girlfriend wasn’t done. She stepped closer, rested her hand gently on my chest and leaned in to whisper in my ear. “If you let me help you buy a going-out outfit for tonight,” she murmured, and I could tell she was channeling her sexy pornstar purr. “Then I’ll drop to my knees in the changing room and suck that amazing, studly cock of yours the moment you’ve put it on.”
Oh… Wow. I groaned again, only this time it was a deeper sound in my chest. My core lit up at Amber’s words, and I felt my length begin to swell in my pants.
Amber brushed her lips gently down my jaw, then stepped back. She bent in her heels and selected several items from the bag. “Put these on. Then, I think we just have one more thing to buy before you’re ready for tonight.”
Mutely, I entered the dressing room and removed my shirt and pants. Standing in front of the full-length mirror in my boxer briefs, I paused for a second to assess the situation. I remembered a time, not more than a couple weeks ago, when I’d looked in the bathroom mirror while fucking Carmen at the French restaurant, Delicieux.
What a gorgeous babe, I had thought. And also, Damn, what an off-putting dude.
I drew my shoulders back, puffing up my chest. There’s a difference, I told myself. You’ve been making improvements. But I couldn’t tell if I was just trying to convince myself. I’d been doing daily runs with Carmen, and daily martial arts training with Terra, but I had to remember that these things needed time in order to function. My stomach still drooped over my waistband, my jaw was rounded and soft-looking, and my body had more of a pear shape than the inverted triangle that you always see in models and movie stars.
I put on the outfit that Amber had chosen, and checked my reflection again. I had expected the tight v-neck to accentuate my belly and unflattering upper body, but instead…
It kind of looks like I work out. The fabric clung to my biceps, making them look full and round, and it must have been an optical illusion but I could have sworn the dark chinos made me taller. I threw on the grey jacket — I was pleased Amber had added it to the pile — and grinned at myself. Abruptly, I realized how useful fashion could be. I can’t upgrade my body or fitness immediately, I reflected, poking my flabby stomach through the shirt. But I can change my outfit in less than a minute.
Crap, dude, another voice chimed in. It was Devil Chance, who had arrived with the intention to criticize. He sounded uncertain. You don’t… look terrible.
I stood a little straighter. Damn right. I tugged at the lapels, enjoying the innate feeling of swagger that comes with wearing a well-fit jacket. Then, rolling up my other clothes into a ball, I tucked them under my arm and stepped out.
Amber’s reaction was what every guy would have desired from his girlfriend. She put her hand to her mouth, then bit her lip while her eyes glowed and traced down my body. “Damn, baby,” she murmured, sauntering closer. Then, she kissed me, her mouthwatering breasts moulding themselves to my chest as she pushed me back against the closed door.
My hands were on her hips, then instinctively sliding lower. I groaned, responding without thinking. Then, we were full-on making out and my fingers were kneading the bouncy, malleable hemispheres of her ass. Her lips were soft and inviting, and it took me a moment to remember that we were in public.
I pulled back with a soft gasp, my hands returning to Amber’s hips. I swallowed, shifting my weight and staring into her eyes, panting gently. Glancing down, she smirked and let her hands trail down across my chest before she stepped away. I followed her gaze. Luckily, the chinos were sturdier and more restrictive than my habitual bottoms, because it was only on direct examination that I could see the tent in my crotch.
“Look at you,” Amber said softly, “making your girlfriend all weak in the knees for you.”
I glanced away, probably blushing, and saw the greeter staring across the boutique from the door. His eyes were wide, and they still were when I tossed him a grin over my shoulder as we left.
“Where to now, sensei?” I asked, slipping my hand around Amber’s waist. I pulled her closer, enjoying her touch and her scent, which floated in the air around her like a cloud of potent pheromones.
“We’ve made progress,” she said. “But we still don’t have the ingredients for a club quality outfit.” The woman was scanning the nearby stores, blue eyes alert. She saw one, and began to pull me toward it. “Luckily, I know just what we need.”
Club quality, I thought as she led me toward a store for what looked like jeans and jean products. I wondered what that meant. All the girls are going to look great tonight, I suppose. And if I want to go along then I’ve got to measure up, too. Despite the confidence boost I’d received from my new outfit, I still felt the looming shadow of the coming evening.
“How do you know all this?” I asked Amber as she strode confidently into the store, glancing this way and that. It was obvious she had something in mind, and she glanced at me several times in an inspecting sort of way.
“Know what?” she asked, approaching a wall of cubbies that were stacked high with jeans.
“Fashion,” I said. “For guys,” I elaborated.
My girlfriend pouted thoughtfully as she tugged down a pair, shook them out, examined them, and put them back. “I think it’s a couple things,” she said. “But mostly it’s just being aware of what looks good. I work in an industry that is about making people look as sexy as possible. And, say what you will about TRANCE, they’re some of the best in the business. We have a quality control technician, for goodness sake,” and she flashed me a bright smile. “When we do higher-budget stuff, we get style consultants, too. And TRANCE does workshops. If actors stick around long enough, the company teaches us all sorts of things: body language, fashion, fitness… They want their actors to be the best.”
There was a hint of pride in Amber’s voice when she talked about the corporation, but before I could really think about that she held up a pair of jeans in my direction. She had a satisfied look on her face.
I hesitated. Then, “They’re ripped,” I pointed out. The jeans were black and had a single long tear across the front of each knee.
Amber gave me a look. “That’s kind of the point.”
“Yeah…” I said slowly. But I’ve never worn anything like that before, I thought.
My girlfriend saw my uncertainty, and gave me an understanding smile. “Let it out,” she advised. “Why don’t you like them?”
I hesitated, then worked my mouth. “In my family,” I explained, “we kids grew up being taught that everything should be used for as long as it was serviceable. No waste, if we could help it. That went for clothes, too. In our household, torn and faded jeans were the old, ratty ones we used for yard work and chores. Not... some sort of fashion statement.”
I could actually recall a memory of my mother being approached one day, in the grocery store, and asked which brand had done the fade and tear of her jeans. My mom had looked at the young woman, a little surprised, and answered, “Two and a half years of gardening.”
Amber nodded in agreement. “I get that,” she said. “I think a lot of people feel that way. But… Here’s another way to think about it. You’re not buying these for work. You’re buying them for fashion. And,” her blue eyes shone. “You’re buying them to make your adoring girlfriend melt when she sees how hot you look.”
She has a good point, Devil Chance commented, crossing his arms. But could you really pull off the ripped jeans look? How do you know you wouldn’t look silly and try-hard?
I frowned in response to the discouraging voice, but Amber took it as a resistance to her argument. She stepped closer, and I could practically feel her seductive charms turning up a notch. “Just try them on for me, baby?” she murmured, fluttering her eyelashes at me.
I found myself staring at her eyes and then her mouth. Her lips were soft and inviting. Her breasts looked absolutely amazing in that tight sweater. Blinking slowly, I nodded and accepted the offered clothes. “Sure, babe,” I said. Then, I glanced back up into her face and nodded again. “Style sensei knows best,” I joked.
“That’s my man,” she said encouragingly, and leaned forward to kiss me gently on the cheek. “Go put them on, and I’ll grab a couple other things for you to try while you’re in there.”
“Alright,” I agreed, then blew out a breath and squared my shoulders as I wound my way around and past wooden display tables toward the back of the store.
On the way, I passed a young sales assistant slipping jean jackets onto hangers and hooking them onto the rack. She was cute, and wore a pair of hipster glasses that made her look right at home in this store and its atmosphere. Her hair, tumbling out from a knit beanie, was either blonde with brunette highlights or brunette with blonde highlights. Either way, it looked good on her.
She glanced up from her work and met my eyes. Because I was already watching her, I could see the flicker of movement as her gaze traced up and down my body. “Hi,” she said. She smiled, and noticed the pair of jeans in my hand. “Are you looking to try something on?”
I nodded, gesturing with the pants toward the door to the short corridor of dressing rooms. “Yeah. Just back here?”
“Mhmm.” The young woman stopped what she was doing and reached for her belt. Keys jingled, and she motioned for me to keep walking. “I just need to let you into one,” she explained.
“Thanks.” I followed her to the hallway and waited as she knocked quietly on the first door. “What did you pick up?” she asked, glancing over before selecting a key from the ring.
I hesitated, uncertain. I’d never in my life had a store attendant act interested in my choice. Then, I said in a joking tone, “My girlfriend thinks I can pull these off.” I shook 0ut the jeans, making sure the rips were evident.
“Hmm…” the young woman responded thoughtfully, tapping her chin with one finger and casting a critical glance up and down my body. Then she nodded. “Definitely,” she agreed. “It would actually be an easy incorporation to your current style. You could add a nice edgy vibe to some of your more dapper outfits.”
I blinked. Wait, you actually think so? I wanted to ask, but the girl was already smiling brightly and opening the door.
“There’s a button in there to call me if you need anything,” she told me. “And I’ll let your girlfriend know you’re in Changing Room 1.”
“Thanks.” The door clicked shut behind me, and I was once again standing in front of a full-body mirror.
Did she just assume I had dapper outfits? I wondered. I looked myself up and down again, comparing the salesgirl’s reaction to the one I’d received in the previous boutique. You look good, man, I told myself, and I realized that in the wake of what had just happened I actually felt a measure of belief in the statement.
Nodding to myself, I held up the ripped jeans in front of my legs and looked in the mirror. It was odd, feeling like I was doing something difficult by putting on a pair of pants, but I tried to remember what Amber had said. This is a total style makeover, I told myself firmly. Kind of like the total body makeover you’re working at with Carmen. It’s out of your comfort zone, so it’s bound to be a bit uncomfortable. I focused on the feeling of satisfaction I felt, knowing that the cute salesgirl had noticed my outfit and assumed that I had good style. Is that how you want your appearance to affect the people around you? I asked. Or do you want them to look at you like James the valet?
As I removed the chinos and pulled the jeans up my legs, I thought about all of the changes I’d been making recently, and about the worry I still had for the coming evening. I’m going to all of this effort, getting a new outfit and everything, and I still worry I’ll make a fool of myself somehow.
You probably will, Devil Chance muttered. He raised his eyebrows skeptically as I examined the jeans in the mirror.
I knew my worries about tonight — about looking silly, about embarrassing my dates, about feeling uncomfortable and alienated — were a lesser incarnation of the fear I’d hinted at to Carmen this morning during our jog. What if I’m just terrible at socializing and making friends? Not only had I rarely gone out, but the memory of my last evening excursion, with Victoria and Amber, brought a sour taste to my tongue.
Your track record speaks for itself, the snide little voice concluded.
These were things I never would have consciously worried about before, and I knew that my girls were the cause. In the past, I’d always stayed safely where I was. So long as I did the things I was okay at, I never had to feel bad about myself. But now, just spending time around a group of gorgeous and interesting women had me realizing how much work I had to do.
“You’ve got this, man,” I told myself, looking myself in the eye and trying to shrug away my pint-sized inner demon. “You can do it.” I knew, of course, that my girls would enjoy themselves no matter what tonight. They had been hypnotically programmed, after all, to enjoy my company. In spite of that, it was beginning to be more and more important to me that I earn their affection ‘the right way’ — by being sexy and interesting in my own right.
“Babe?” Amber’s voice broke me from my reflection. “How you doing in there? How do you look?”
“Oh, hey!” I answered. I gave myself a once-over. The ripped jeans, to my surprise, did add… something… to the outfit. I couldn’t have put my finger on it, but… “I think,” I told her through the door, “that I look good.”
My girlfriend gasped happily. “Great, baby!” she enthused. “Just wanted you to add this, if you could.” A grey shirt came up over the door, and when I lifted it up it proved to be a tee with a big, scooping neckline and thin, horizontal stripes.
“New shirt?” I asked, removing my jacket obediently.
“Yeah,” Amber agreed. “I think so.”
I pulled the tee over my head, enjoying the softness of the fabric, and then slipped back on the grey jacket. Even I was stunned when I looked at myself in the mirror. I didn’t know exactly how it worked, but the new shirt made my outfit pop.
“Come on out so I can see,” Amber encouraged, and I could hear the warmth of excitement in her voice.
Grinning, I opened the door.
On the other side, Amber was waiting with her hip cocked to one side and arms folded under her mammoth breasts. She tapped one toe impatiently, but her smile shone when she saw me. She nodded with approval. She didn’t come closer, just narrowing her eyes and scanning me for a moment. “Good fit,” she murmured, like she was checking off boxes. “Contrast, layers and a little bit of vibe.” She met my gaze. “I think the new shirt was the last thing this outfit needed.”
I felt the heat of her look, turning from appraising to lustful in a single flash of fire. “Yeah?” I asked. Amber’s blue eyes were so intense that I could feel myself growing harder just from her stare.
She took a step forward. “And I believe,” she murmured. “That I promised my hot, stylish man a little something if he let me put together this outfit.”
The door to the dressing room was closed and my new jeans were around my knees. My back was up against the wall, and kneeling at my feet was one of the hottest pornstars on the internet.
Amber’s eyes shone with devotion and pleasure, her pink lips wrapped around my cock and bobbing up and down with every movement of her head. Her hair fell forward, brushing across my thighs, and I could feel her bouncy tits against my knees. Her nipples were hard.
“Fuck…” I groaned, my cock sinking into the heat and velvety wetness of her mouth.
Her cheeks hollowed, eyes rolling back so she could stare into my face as her body shuddered with pleasure. My girlfriend’s skirt was shoved up around her curvy hips, her own thighs spread so the hand that wasn’t pumping up and down my shaft could play with her drenched pussy.
The vibrations of her first moan radiated bliss up my cock and into my core, striking a chime that bounced pleasure through my nerves. “You like that?” I grunted softly, trying to remember that we were in a public place. “You like sucking my cock like a good little slut?” Despite my urge to contain myself, the thought of being discovered only added fuel to the fire.
This is right out of a TRANCE film, I thought.
“Mmhmm…” Amber nodded, her tongue swirling around and around my shaft. She squeezed gently, stroking up and down what she couldn’t fit between her plush lips.
“You like being my perfect bimbo girlfriend?” My voice was low and husky with excitement. The words were strange, almost not mine. It was like I’d shifted from caring boyfriend to lusting Master, and now the woman before me was nothing more than my devoted pleasure toy.
The busty blonde vacuumed her mouth around my manhood and slowly slid up its length. The head popped softly free, and then her lips were brushing against the throbbing, sensitive skin as she whispered. “Yes, Master…” Her voice was pitched low, but it was so overloaded with sultry appeal that I couldn’t help but shiver with lust. “I love being your perfect bimbo girlfriend.”
I swallowed, my balls heavy and tight.
Amber continued. I could feel her breath on my pulsating rod. “I love kneeling before you, worshipping your cock with my mouth,” a soft kiss under the head, “my tits,” her hand slid up her body and squeezed one bouncy breast, “and all my heart.” She guided the throbbing tip of my length across her stunning features, leaving a sheen of saliva and precum.
I groaned.
Her hand continued to stroke. “I love making you cum for me, covering me with your seed and marking me as my Master’s property…”
I was getting closer, my girlfriend’s slender fingers milking my cock like she was begging me to explode all over her face and lips.
“I love it when you fill my mouth up with your cum, and let me taste your power and dominance…”
Fuckkk… I thought, grunting softly as my knees weakened and my body shivered with release.
Amber dove forward, her lips covering the head of my prick as the first strand of spunk exploded out. Her tongue lapped at my manhood, her eyes rolling back with pleasure as she tasted my seed. The bright blue orbs were glazed with pleasure, her tits rising and falling in that tight sweater as she panted, cumming all over the hand that thrust inside her entrance again and again.
You’re the hottest woman I’ve ever met, I thought.
Then, in that moment of ecstasy, my eyes nearly bugged out of my head as I heard footsteps. They stopped on the other side of the door. I froze, heartbeat loud in my ears, as I heard the voice of the cute hipster salesgirl asking, “Sir? Is everything alright in there?”
I opened my mouth and no sound came out. I closed it again. I was still staring into Amber’s eyes as my girlfriend slowly seemed to blink and come back to herself in the wake of her powerful climax. She was staring up at me with absolute trust, and I knew in that moment that she didn’t care if this random woman knew she’d just blown me in a public changing room.
For some reason, that thought gave me confidence. Nothing to worry about, I told myself, and then I said softly. “What? Yeah, everything is good. Thanks.”
“Sure thing,” the girl said. “It’s just that you pressed the Assistance button, so I thought you might need a different size or something.”
I glanced down by my elbow and saw a small red button on the wall. I must have leaned back and hit it when I came, I realized. “Nope!” I said, trying to sound cheerful. “I must have bumped that when I was putting on this shirt. Just something my girlfriend brought over.”
It was lucky the divider went all the way to the floor, otherwise the young woman might have seen Amber’s high-heeled feet as my girlfriend knelt before me. It sounded like the she was right on the other side of the door. “I’m not sure where your girlfriend went, by the way.”
I shuddered and nearly choked as Amber suddenly smiled widely, leaned forward and swirled her tongue around the head of my still semi-erect length. “Ahh… That’s okay. I think she might be… um, in one of the other changing rooms.”
“Oh.” The girl sounded surprised, and I remembered that she had the keys to all the doors in this short hallway.
“She mentioned one of them being unlocked,” I ad-libbed. Amber’s mouth slowly descended, hot and wet and seductive, down my manhood.
There was a second of silence. Then an upbeat, “Okay, then! Glad everything is going well. Let me know if you need anything at all.”
I managed a sound that hopefully passed for agreement. Amber had just swallowed me to the hilt, and my mouth stopped working as the pornstar’s worked my shaft like she was begging me to cum a second time. Instead, though, once the young woman’s footsteps had gone, I exercised enough will power to step back and help my girlfriend to her feet.
“That,” I told Amber. “Was so… fucking… hot.”
“I’m glad you liked it, baby,” she murmured, biting her lip with a wicked look in her eye. “I think you look fucking hot.” She cast a glance up and down my body. It was a sultry, admiring look, and it made me resolve I was going to wear this outfit home, and then out to the club tonight. I want all my girls to look at me that way, I thought.
“So,” I asked. “I pass inspection?”
“If I’m the quality control technician for Chance’s fashion…” Amber quipped, stepping closer. “I’d say you look flawless.” She kissed me on the corner of the mouth.
I paid the young woman at the front, handing over the tags for the jeans and the shirt, along with Lassiter’s card.
“Like them too much to take them off?” she asked with a smile as she swiped. “They look good,” she added, and said to Amber with a soft laugh. “You definitely know how to dress your man.”
“Tonight is his first time going out in a while,” my girlfriend confided. Her voice was shamelessly cheerful, not even hinting at the fact that she’d almost been caught with my cock halfway down her throat. “He was a little nervous, so I decided a new outfit might help ease his mind.”
“Yeah?” the salesgirl asked, raising her eyebrows and glancing at me for confirmation.
I shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “Guilty.”
“Well…” she nodded reassuringly. “I hope you have a good time. You look good, man.”
I was a little surprised when she offered me a fist bump, but acquiesced silently. “Thanks.” She wore a ring on each of her four fingers, and they gave her knuckles a ribbed, metallic texture.
In the car, Amber placed her hand gently on my thigh and rubbed back and forth several times. I’m sure she meant it as a simple expression of positivity, but all it did was make my length twitch alive again in my pants.
“Did you see that?” she asked.
I tried to focus on the road and my growing erection at the same time. Without talking about it between us, I’d somehow ended up in the driver’s seat for the return journey. “See what?” Damn, girl, I thought. You make me insatiable.
“How that cute young thing responded to you,” Amber emphasized. “You look good, man,” she repeated in a soft, lilting tone. “Let me know if you need anything at all… Let me know if you want to bend me over and take me right here at the register…”
I coughed in surprise, then swallowed as Amber stroked gently across the bulge in my lap. “She wasn’t thinking that,” I protested.
“She would have let you take her home,” the blonde said confidently. “If you’d put some moves on her. And, you know, if I hadn’t been there.”
I made a disbelieving noise, though the words made my core heat up.
“Seriously,” Amber continued. “That’s the benefit of looking good. Your first impression sets the right tone, and dominoes fall from there.”
“I guess,” I agreed. My girlfriend is actively trying to convince me that another woman wanted to sleep with me, I thought. Why is that so hot…? I navigated onto the highway.
“Don’t tell me you couldn’t tell the difference between the girl in store one and store two,” the woman said. “Isn’t the second a much better way to live? That’s what I want for my man. Why do you think the girls and I enjoy dressing sexy?”
I shrugged, feeling the flush of heat warming my face as I imagined my other three beautiful companions. “I always heard you should ‘Dress for yourself’ and ‘Look how you want.’”
Amber laughed softly. The sound was, somehow, sweet and alluring in equal measure.
How do I have such a sexy girlfriend? I thought.
“It feels good just for myself to know I look hot, sure,” she admitted. “But you think it isn’t fun to get that reaction? To feel desired? For people to be nicer to me and make things easier?”
Huh, I thought. I guess I never thought about it that way.
Puh-lease, Devil Chance snarked. You always knew life was easier for hot people. A group of which you are most definitely not a member.
“Hey,” I said abruptly out loud. “Can you get out your phone?” I was done listening to that jerk right now. I glanced over my shoulder, tugged the wheel to one side, and slid us smoothly onto the nearest off-ramp.
“What?” Amber asked, glancing at me curiously but nonetheless obediently fishing in her purse. “Where are we going?”
I slowed at a stop sign and glanced left and right. “I want you to call up the others at the twins’ place and tell them to eat dinner without us,” I ordered. Then, I smiled at her. “It’s been too long since we’ve had boyfriend-girlfriend time, and you were absolutely wonderful today. I’m taking you out on a date.”
Amber was still smiling when we arrived in the parking lot of Tasker’s Burgers and I pulled her Honda Civic into a spot.
“It’s not fancy,” I admitted to Amber, giving the place a dubious look. It was, in fact, dingier than I remembered. Did I really used to come here on special occasions? I asked myself silently. I removed the key, stepped out, and came around the hood to open my girlfriend’s door for her.
I was feeling more than a little uncomfortable. What had seemed originally like a sweet, spontaneous gesture was beginning to feel more and more like shooting myself in the foot. I could already imagine Amber’s disappointed look, her disbelief that my attempt to do something romantic had taken us to a place so… common.
“Babe!” My girlfriend’s cute squeal of excitement and her mammoth tits bouncing up and down right in front of my eyes distracted me from my dreary thoughts. “You’re so sweet!”
I blinked, responding to her hug and feeling my doubt weaken. “Yeah?” I asked. “You’re okay that this isn’t… I don’t know. A fancy French restaurant, for instance?”
Amber beamed up into my face, her blue gaze frank. “Of course, silly,” she said. Her teeth were bright white and perfectly even. She had a smile like a supermodel. “It’s the thought that counts, and I’m excited to hear how my wonderful, romantic boyfriend chose this place for our date.”
She hooked her arm through my elbow and walked me toward the doors.
“The others are fine with us missing dinner?” I asked, feeling a bit better as we pushed through one swinging glass door and then another. We stopped in line behind a couple of men in baseball caps and baggy work jeans, and a Latino couple with a young boy clinging to his mother’s hand.
“I texted Daisy on the way over,” Amber said. “And then Carmen. Neither responded, but I let them both know that we’ll be out for dinner and they can see your new outfit when we get back.”
I nodded, and we both stepped forward in the wake of the family.
The guy behind the register was stick thin and probably still in high school. I could see his Adam’s apple bob in a swallow when he caught sight of us replacing the previous customers.
“Welcome to Tasker’s Burgers,” he told Amber’s tits. “What can we serve for you this evening?”
I wondered if I should feel upset that he was so blatantly checking out my girlfriend, but noticed that instead I felt a little bit of pride warm my chest. That’s right, I thought. She’s a dime, ten out of ten, and guess who she’s going out with later for a night on the town?
I glanced over into my girlfriend’s face and saw that she was watching me.
Are you just waiting for me to order? I wanted to ask silently. Or are you wondering if I mind the attention you’re getting? At times, Amber seemed to have a sort of sixth sense —extra-sensory perfect girlfriend powers that picked up on what I needed and whether I was feeling solid or uncertain.
I gave her a slow, easy smile. “I’ll have the Double D burger with fries and a soda,” I said without looking away. “My girlfriend will have the same.”
“Double D?” she asked, eyes widening in faux shock.
“It’s short for ‘Double Double,’” the boy jumped in hastily. “It’s double the patties, double the cheese. Not… um, anything else.” I could tell he was trying desperately not to stare at Amber’s tits.
My girlfriend saw the heat of approval in my eyes, and she turned back to the young man. She fluttered her eyelashes. “Thanks for explaining,” she murmured, leaning forward. Her sweater covered as much of her skin as ever, but somehow the way she carried herself shifted. Abruptly she was a goddess of sex, lust pouring off of her in waves and her smoky eyes imposing arousal like a magic spell.
In a second, I could see the full force of a pornstar’s heated stare begin to melt the teenager’s brain. He swallowed again and stared like he was hypnotized.
“How much will that be?” Amber asked, and her innocent tone contradicted her demeanor in a way that was somehow even more of a turn on.
The kid swallowed and stammered a price.
I fished in my pocket for my wallet, plucked free a ten and a fiver, and handed them over. He accepted them without ceremony, barely looking at me as he tried to simultaneously work the register and ogle Amber.
“Number thirty-seven,” he said, offering me the change.
I heard him distractedly greet the next customers as we grabbed cups from the inverted stack and headed for the soda machine.
“Welcome to Double D’s… ahem, I mean, Tasker’s…”
Amber glanced at me out of the sides of her eyes. “I noticed you didn’t pay with Lassiter’s card,” she commented, raising an eyebrow.
I shrugged self-consciously, vending some ice into the cup. “Maybe it’s silly…” I said, perusing the drink options. “But Lassiter’s been paying for so many things recently. I think I just wanted to have this date be you and me. Just a normal couple, ya know?” I looked over and smiled a little. “The kind where the guy pays for dinner and later, maybe, the girl pays for popcorn at the movies.”
My girlfriend’s aww-that’s-so-cute sigh sounded like the whimper she made when my cock hit her G-spot, and my length throbbed behind my zipper. I took a breath, half-filled my cup with Root Beer, then allowed myself to focus again. Not right now, I ordered myself. Right now, you’re just enjoying a date. Keep it PG, dude. I filled the rest of the cup with Sprite.
Amber and I sat. Then, in unspoken agreement, we turned to check if the guy at the register was still watching us.
“He wanted me very badly, baby,” my girlfriend murmured, her volume just on the edge of normal conversation. “Did that turn you on?”
I looked back at her, and she bit her lower lip. Her lashes were dark and long around bright eyes. I smirked, just enough to let her know that the answer was a resounding Yes.
“Everyone in this place knows that I’m yours,” she continued. “And that you’re going to be taking this hot, horny babe home tonight and putting her in her place.
I leaned back, casually surveying the area and enjoying the heat that had blossomed in my stomach. A few booths down, across the aisle, five baseball-capped heads swiveled quickly back to their own table. On the other side of the main divider that separated the room into several smaller areas, I saw the Latino husband shooting us a look before his wife tugged him out through the glass doors.
Maybe it was just me, but the Latina woman seemed to have a bit of fire in her posture.
“I love hearing that, babe,” I said, meeting my girlfriend’s eyes again. “But…” and now I leaned forward to put my hand on top of hers on the table. “How about, for now, we just focus on us? You’re the most important thing to me. You, in this moment.”
Amber was the one to glance away now, and I swear that a blush touched her cheeks.
Cha-ching, I thought, knowing I’d said the right thing.
“So…” Amber said slowly. “What’s the story with this place, then? Why did you want to bring me?”
“I’ve never ordered for my date before,” I joked. “I had to bring you here so I knew what was on the menu.”
The blonde laughed softly, but I knew she was waiting for the real answer.
I shrugged, half smiling. “I wanted to say thank you,” I said. I tried to make my tone earnest. “These past few weeks have been amazing and fun and wonderful, but I don’t want to forget that you were the start of it all. I’ve been focused a lot on the others, asking them all to move in with us, and I feel like I’ve neglected my number one girl.”
It was odd, I realized, that I was saying all of this. It was odd that I was actually telling a stunning, sexy pornstar that I worried I’d been neglecting her to spend time with my other lovers. It was odd that the conversation felt kind of… normal.
But what the hell? I decided. It’s my kind of odd.
Amber ducked her head. The lovely woman was definitely blushing now. “You’re so sweeeet,” she groaned, glancing away. There was a teasing, suppressed frustration in her tone. “You make me just want to come right across this table and kiss you.”
I grinned, scooted to one side, and patted the red booth cushion next to me. “You’re welcome over here any time.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Too dangerous,” she said. “If you want this to be a regular date, I should stay at a safe distance.”
My cave man brain reveled in her words, but I was pleased with myself that I agreed. “Well, then,” I said. “What should we talk about on this regular date?”
For a very, very brief second, a flash of cold worry slithered down my back. What if Amber and I don’t have anything to talk about once sex is off the table? But my girlfriend’s face eased into that supermodel smile and she tucked some golden hair back behind one ear.
“So, how do you actually know this place?”
And then we were off to the races.
As we chatted, I realized that it had been too long since Amber and I had had a real conversation. Sure, we had talked. I came to her with problems and she’d helped counsel me on getting the other women to agree to move in with us. But all of those talks had revolved around worries, or other people, and sometimes both. This was something else.
I explained to her how I used to live in this area. It wasn’t too long ago, in the grand scheme of things, but it felt like another lifetime. I told her about how I’d moved to the City from out of town, had gotten into university with a scholarship to study computer science. I explained that the housing costs and grown-up expenses and generally being an adult meant that I needed a job to make ends meet.
“I worked here,” I admitted, and wondered if working at a burger joint was the sort of thing you usually admitted to on a date with a beautiful woman. “For almost two years, while I was studying at Bradford. I think I maybe, deep down, wanted to bring you here to show you why I’m not always fast to pick up on the things that you and the others are trying to teach me.” I shrugged, tugged at the cuff of my jacket and huffed a laugh. “This isn’t the outfit for someone who flips burgers. And I still can’t tell if it feels like me or not, if that makes sense.”
Amber was nodding slowly, and she looked around Tasker’s like she was seeing the old burger joint with fresh eyes. “You worked here?” she asked.
I cleared my throat. “Yeah,” I said. Definitely not the sort of thing you admit on a date with a beautiful woman, I thought. “I know it’s not glamorous or anything…”
I trailed off as her hand closed over mine.
“Chance.” Amber’s fingers squeezed gently, and there was a moment of intensity between us as I met her clear blue eyes. It wasn’t the kind of sexual intensity I was accustomed to with her, but it was powerful in a manner that was both profound and, somehow, deeply personal. “You can’t think about yourself that way. That’s the kind of thinking that keeps you stuck where you are and not moving on. We’re all more than our pasts — the things we did or what happened to us.” Her expression shifted ever so slightly, but I couldn’t tell what it meant. She glanced away, with a hint of shyness. “I really liked what you said about being in the moment together, but I also want us to have a future. And that means moving on from… stuff. Whether that’s still feeling like a fry cook or, well, anything else we might have to leave behind.”
There were a few long heartbeats of silence after her little speech. They were full, though, of a companionship that made me feel relaxed and warm and comfortable. Then I grinned, and she smiled shyly back.
“What?” she asked.
“I like that you think about us having a future,” I admitted. And I did. It was a good feeling. I shifted, and slipped my hand into hers. Our fingers twined together. “So,” I asked, “since we’re sharing. What do you need to move on from?”
I saw the troubled expression that touched Amber’s face. It flashed across in an instant, like the shadow of a bird passing quickly across a window before it disappears, but then she was shrugging and snorting. “I mean, your girlfriend is a pornstar,” she said. “You don’t think that has baggage of its own?”
I opened my mouth to say something, but at that moment I was interrupted.
“Thirty-seven!” the voice called. “Number thirty-seven!”
“Hold that thought,” I said.
But when I returned, balancing our orders on a tray, Amber was lifting her phone up under her sheet of blonde hair and to her ear. “… Yeah, babe,” she was saying. “… Nooo, don’t start without us.” She pouted at the screen and then gave me a glance. “I’ll ask.”
I responded with an uncertain look. “What’s up?”
“It’s Victoria,” Amber explained. “She says the twins are getting antsy, they’ll be done eating soon and they want to get the pregame going.”
“Ah.”
I felt a moment of shock, like I’d walked into an invisible wall. Nothing was wrong, but it was as if I’d suddenly remembered me and Amber weren’t the only ones to think about. It jarred me out of the moment, the space that had felt so intimate and insolated.
I gestured with my head back toward the front counter. “Should I ask if I can get these to-go?” I asked.
“He’ll get them to-go and we’ll be back soon,” Amber said into the phone, nodding at me.
I began to turn, stopped, and glanced back. I felt like there was something important… “Do you want a soda refill?”
Amber shook her head at me. “Yeah, he’s doing that right now,” she told Victoria.
I refilled my two-flavored soda, got the burgers and the fries in a white paper bag with the big red Tasker’s ‘T’, and by then my girlfriend was waiting for me by the front door.
“The family calls,” she joked, laughing as I walked up. “I guess this is how it feels to have teenagers. Always in a hurry trying to party.”
I squinted in mock disgust. “Those damn kids,” I said in a crotchety old man voice. But I was chuckling by the time we got to the car.
On the drive back to Starside I asked Amber why she hadn’t had any soda, and was treated to a long discourse on the dangers of processed sugar.
“I think you should do it!”
Daisy, leaning back with her elbows on the bar, had to raise her voice to be heard over the clamor of voices and the powerful strains of bouncy dance music. Next to her, Victoria shrugged her shoulders in response and sipped an orange cocktail from a tall, cylindrical glass.
The gorgeous brunette flicked her eyes to me as I joined them.
“What should she do?” I asked. My voice was also louder than normal. I bent forward and kissed Daisy on the cheek, grinning as I stood next to her. It was a quick, thoughtless gesture of affection.
“Nothing!” Victoria protested, laughing and shaking her head at me. She was tall enough in her heels that she could share a self-conscious grin with me over Daisy’s head. “Just a conversation from earlier!”
Of all of us, Victoria had probably drunk the least. The twins and I, the most. I’d had three or four shots back at the apartment — Or was it a couple more? I remembered justifying that drinks at home were cheaper than drinks at a club… — and then at least one drink at each of the clubs we’d visited.
We were on our third.
A conversation from earlier… I mused, closing my eyes as I sagged against the bar and cast my mind back. When Amber and I had arrived back at the twins’ place, we’d found our three companions sipping wine over the remains of a Chinese takeout meal and discussing…
Huh, I thought.
I wasn’t sure what they’d been talking about, though they had all been so interested in it that they hadn’t immediately seen Amber’s texts about us staying out for dinner. It wasn’t that they’d clammed up when we returned, but rather that my outfit and then the story of my brief date with Amber had shifted the object of conversation.
I’ve got to try not to do that, I resolved. The girls all need their own time in the spotlight.
“Chance?” Victoria asked, raising her eyebrows at me.
I realized I’d spaced out. I shook my head and wiped hair back from my face. I felt a light sheen of sweat. It was hot out on the dance floor. I felt like I’d just run half a dozen sprints, but instead of being tired and slumped I was as energized as ever. I wasn’t sure if it was my recent fitness training giving me more stamina or the alcohol blunting my fatigue, but I enjoyed it. A lot.
“This…” I said, breathing slowly and deeply. “Is nothing like college.”
“Having fun?” Daisy leaned up and put her mouth right by my ear to ask, and I felt her perky breasts press against my arm.
I squinted down at the young woman, then turned my head theatrically to look through the crowd onto the dance floor. Carmen was there, dancing with Amber. The lithe young redhead and the busty blonde made quite a pair: slinky, clinging dresses hugged their bouncy tits and rolling hips, hands lifted up over their heads and feet moved in time with the beat. I swiveled back to the teenager by my side. My hand slipped around her waist and I pulled her closer.
“Daisy…” I said slowly, as though identifying her for the first time.
The young woman melted, green eyes shining up at me. “Yes, sir…?” she murmured, and she bit her ruby lips with the kind of self-consciousness that made the words strike even harder against the reverberating heat in my center.
I smiled broadly. “I am having so much fun.”
The teenager flashed a grin that was both delighted and satisfied. “You should tell Amber!” she said. “She mentioned how worried you were about this. It would make her happy to know you’re happy.”
I inclined my head. “I bow to your wisdom, young lady,” I told her. “And I shall do so, if you will just accompany me to the dance floor.” I offered my arm gallantly. “I was sent by those ladies out there to rope you two into joining us. I think your sister’s words were, ‘Tell her to stop being a nerdy wall flower and bust some moves!’”
Daisy giggled, then shot a glance at the brunette beside her. “Well?” she asked.
Victoria lifted her glass, as if to gauge the contents remaining, then tilted it back in one long movement. I watched her throat as she swallowed and imagined kissing up the smooth skin and across her jaw.
I met her eyes when she set the glass down. “Coming, darling?”
The dark-haired beauty rolled her eyes, then blew me a kiss and strutted off into the undulating mass.
I shared a glance with Daisy, smirked, and we followed.
“Miss me?” I asked of Carmen as I slipped back into the small circle the women had made. Daisy joined me on the other side, so I was surrounded by the bodies of limber, writhing teens.
The young, crimson-haired woman turned to look up at me. Carmen’s eyes were unfocused, like she was lost in the music, and then she grinned. “Of course I missed you, hottie!” Her voice broke through the music and there was a youthful ease to it.
I spread my hands, including Victoria and Daisy in the movement. “After much convincing,” I declared. “I brought back friends! And now… I expect my reward.” I leaned toward her and teasingly offered my cheek for a kiss. I couldn’t say if the confidence came from the drinks, or my outfit, or something I’d learned today, but I knew that it was the kind of smooth, flirty move that would drive her wild.
I wasn’t wrong.
The teen’s lips pressed hot to my skin, and then her fingers were in my hair and turning my face toward hers. Her body writhed against mine, and I felt my own body responding. My hands went to the small of her back. We were moving in time with the music and our kisses were heavy and I pulled her closer to me as my manhood hardened against her stomach.
Wow, I thought. I was dizzy. I was in a daze. For the first time in my life, I was making out with a gorgeous babe on the dance floor of a trendy nightclub. It was like something out of a movie, or out of my fantasies. Either way, one thing was for sure.
It’s nothing like what I expected, I thought. Somehow, in the moment, the fears and worries I’d had about my own social ineptness had melted away. No sense of isolation, or some vague idea that everyone else knows what they’re doing and I’m the odd one out.
I surrendered to the kiss, deepening it and bending Carmen back. I felt her surrender to me, trusting her weight in my hands as I lowered her in a sort of swaying dip. I heard a whoop from somewhere nearby, and a whistle, but I couldn’t tell they came from my companions or from strangers. Then, after a brief pause that felt like it was so much longer, the music swelled and I lifted the teen back up to her feet. With a flourish, I raised our entwined hands and spun her in a circle underneath. It ended with us chest to chest, her face staring up into mine with the wide eyes and open features of total trust.
The music was loud and there were dozens of people bouncing up and down all around us. For a second, though, I felt quiet and still.
And then the song changed, and Carmen’s eyes widened with excitement, and she glanced away from me as a smile broke out over her face. “Day!” she squealed with the kind of exuberance that only young women can really pull off. “This is our song!”
I met Amber’s eyes across the circle as the twins started to dance. Her blue gaze was pleased and warm, the smile on her lips was seductive and enticing.
I don’t need to tell her I’m happy, I thought. Amber’s my girl. She already knows. And she knows that she made it possible.
Victoria had let her hair down, so to speak, and was grinning and shimmying with Amber and Daisy when Carmen touched my shoulder and brushed past. The teenager was pulling her phone out of her bra, and I saw that the screen had lit up with a call.
Dad, I read, and it took me an extra second to process what that meant. By then, the young woman was halfway off the dance floor and I wasn’t sure what to do. I checked the rest of our group, didn’t want to interrupt them, and looked after the vanishing redhead.
Squaring my shoulders, I followed her.
Carmen had the phone to her ear and was walking down the hallway toward the coat check. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but she paused and leaned against the wall with hunched shoulders. Her free hand was wrapped around her stomach, like she was cold. As I approached her from behind, though, she straightened abruptly.
“Just stop it, okay?!” Her voice was raised, and she sounded frustrated. “I don’t care what Miranda and James said, they don’t know him…” Her free hand rubbed at her face, pressing back her upset. Her shoulders tightened. “No, I’ve not been drinking! … And so what if I have? That doesn’t make it okay for you to just snoop on our lives!”
I felt like I was the one snooping, but I was too close now. I hesitated behind her, waiting for her to notice me.
You shouldn’t be listening to this, Angel Chance echoed from far away. It’s personal.
Family drama! Devil Chance crowed. Probably your fault, too.
“… Don’t you dare do that! He’s not like that. You don’t know anything!”
See? the shoulder demon sneered.
Carmen spun, suddenly, like she’d realized I was behind her. Before I could react, though, beyond opening my mouth to say goodness knows what, the teenager had taken several swift steps and hugged me tightly. Her exuberance of a few moments before was broken, turned into frustrated sobs that made her shoulders shake. Her fingers gripped the lapels of my jacket and her face was buried in the front of my shirt.
Instinctively, my hands wrapped around her shoulders and rubbed her back soothingly. “Hush now…” I managed to murmur. “It’s… it’s okay. I promise everything is okay…”
Mutely, without looking up, Carmen lifted the phone. Her arm was uncomfortably bent between us, but seeing the screen I realized the call was still going. Gently, I took the device from her hand and ended it. Now was not the time to deal with that.
Your fault, Devil Chance taunted, but somehow I was beyond even his distraction.
I kissed the top of Carmen’s head. “We’re going to go home,” I murmured into her hair. “It’s all okay…”
A couple minutes later, the five of us were trooping out of the club and onto the sidewalk. Victoria’s arm was around Carmen’s slim shoulders, and even though the teen was no longer crying Daisy held her sister’s hand supportively.
Despite the hour, the street was fairly busy. The night had gotten cold, though, and I was glad Victoria had suggested the girls each bring some sort of jacket.
“I’ll call us an Uber,” I said, taking several steps away.
I slipped my hand into my inner jacket pocket, thinking fuzzily that I was glad whoever invented jackets also invented inside pockets for putting things in. I swiped to open, tapped my passcode, fumbled it with clumsy fingers, and got the thing working. I started to push through screens, trying to remember what folder I’d used to store the app, when a red notification bubble caught my attention.
It tagged my texting app, and I clicked instinctively to open it.
Sir. I know it’s late, but—
I stopped reading, checked the name at the top of the conversation: Mike Lassiter. What the hell? I thought. I blinked, then refocused and reread.
Sir. I know it’s late, but something came up. We need to talk. As soon as you can.
A jolt of adrenaline bumped my heartrate up a notch, and my thumbs were moving before I knew what they were doing. I’d received the message more than an hour ago, but when I replied — What od you meann? — the app let me know immediately that Lassiter was typing a response.
When are you available? It is probably something we should discuss in person.
I checked the time, and was astonished to realize it was just passing 2am.
Wht do we need to takl abot? I sent.
“Babe? Do you know when the Uber’s going to be here?” It was Amber’s voice, breaking my concentration. I glanced up, registering her worry for Carmen in her tone. She had walked closer to me, but looked back at the others with an expression of concern on her pretty face.
I glanced back down at my phone, rereading Lassiter’s message. For some reason, I thought of the highway, and of a car swerving wildly to one side to dodge incoming danger.
We need to talk about Amber.