"My turn," I said. "Where do you want it?"

---

Brad walked alone through the club. Dancers nodded and squeezed his arms as he passed but he didn't stop, his eyes scanning the crowd for Montana and Julia. He had taken longer with Alexis then he had intended, and didn't want Julia alone and pissed at the table. His eyes searched the crowd and finally stopped on the table that they had originally sat at. His lips set, he strode forward.

He had to push himself through the crowd that had gathered - a mixture of drunk executives and Abercrombie-attired college boys. Julia knelt on the round table that had previously housed their champagne flutes and ice bucket. Her strapless dress had been pulled down and her br**sts were exposed and alert. Montana had an ice cube in her mouth and was running her mouth over Julia's breasts, making her ni**les stiff and pink. As he watched Julia leaned forward and placed her hands on Montana's breasts, pushing them together and kissing her deeply. Jesus Christ. The girls separated, and he saw Montana reach for a salt pitcher, sprinkling Julia's ni**les with the salt and then licking and sucking one of them. She kissed Julia long and hard, both of their hands roaming. Julia and her grabbed shots of tequila and downed them. Holding up the glasses in celebration - the crowd cheered and started chanting. "Another! Another!" Where the f**k is Janine? Brad looked around, but didn't see her. Montana shouldn't be drinking, though he could probably see how this had happened, and cursed himself for taking too long with Alexis. He found a black-shirted security guard and yelled into his ear, trying to make himself heard over the crowd. "Did Montana get approval to drink?"

"Yeah. Janine gave her an hour of drinking, then said she'd need to go home - no working afterwards."

"Alright. Make sure the crowd stays under control, and doesn't mess with the girls."

"You got it boss. Ricky's keeping an eye from the other side. Right now everyone's behaving."

Brad looked back to the two girls. Montana was pulling Julia's dress over her head, exposing her tanned, toned stomach and a pair of lace thongs that left nothing to the imagination.

"Want me to get you in there boss? I can move these guys outta the way."

"No. Let them play. I'll watch from the upper level. Montana knows the rules." He turned and moved quietly through the crowd, turning at a black-painted door, and opening it, climbing a flight of stairs and coming out on what they considered the VIP level. He walked about halfway down and then sat in a chair. The tables up here were in private alcoves, and he felt as alone as he could feel in the packed club at 1am. He pulled out his cell and called the line for HQ.

"Yes, Mr. D." a calm, nasally voice came over the line. Brad smiled to himself. Safirre's HQ. Where horny nerds came to die.

"Yes, I'm in VIP section…" he craned around to see the number discreetly painted on the wall, high up, out of normal view. "Section 8. I'm gonna kill power to this cam. Didn't want you to be alarmed."

"Understood, Mr. D. We can kill power here if you want?"

"No, I'll do it. That way you'll know when I'm done."

"Sounds good, Mr. D. Is there a party planned for later?"

"Not tonight. Make sure everyone knows."

"Will do. Thanks Boss."

Brad stood, moved the chair over to the wall, and stood on it. He reached in his pocket for his key ring, shuffled through till he found the security master, and stuck it into the wall, turning the cam switch to the "off" position. He sat back down and watched the action below. Julia was now straddling Montana; they were kissing passionately, their hands traveling everywhere.

---

Montana lifted her mouth off my neck, her eyes flashing. I grinned down at her, my hands on her large breasts. I had never held another women's boobs before. My br**sts were small, barely B cups, but Montana's were huge - and natural, I assumed. The skin on them was so incredible soft, and they were heavy in my hands. Her ni**les were light pink, like mine, and I touched them how I like mine touched - softly.

The cries of the men surrounding us energized me. That, and the three - or was it four - shots of tequila we had taken. At times the room spun, and I'd focus on Montana's face to bring it still. She was like a beautiful exotic flower - all the best things about being a girl - soft skin, long hair, and yummy scents. I could understand why men went to strip clubs. It was like having the most popular girl at school being your best friend for the hour.

Montana stood, climbing up on the chair, and I sat back on the round table, my face now close to being between her legs. She reached down and grabbed the bottle of Cristol that had been chilling next to us. Pulling the cork out with her teeth, she cheered - holding the bottle high in the air. The crowd and I instantly responded - holding hands up in the air in celebration. Then she told me to lean back. I did, resting on my arms and arching my back, my br**sts held up to the sky and in full glory of the fifty-some men who were surrounding us, some standing on chairs in order to see better. Montana let the champagne rain and it hit me, cool and sweet, splattering my neck, hitting the swell of my breasts, and running down my stomach. My skin instantly responded to the cold liquid bubbles, puckering and standing at attention. Montana laid me back and began to lick it off, her tongue making magic happen on my skin.

CHAPTER 23

Rule 4: Her pleasure is the most important objective.

I woke up in a strange bed. I lay there, the room dark, and tried to figure out where I was. I felt out, the sheets covered in a heavy down comforter, feather pillows underneath my head. I felt skin - a hand, big. Brad.

I sat up, the quick movement causing a sharp pain in my temple. "Ohhh…." I groaned. Brad's hand twitched under mine, and I moved my hand off his quietly, slowing pulling the covers back and sliding out of them. My mouth felt like dry cotton, and I felt my way quietly through the suite till I got to the kitchen. I opened cabinets till I found glasses, and filled one with water from the tap. I padded to the bathroom, where I reluctantly turned on the light, wincing against the searing brightness. Fumbling through my toiletries bag, I found the small aspirin bottle I had packed, and shook out two pills. I stuffed them in my mouth and took a big swig of water, then turned out the light. Padding back to the bedroom, my eyes adjusting to the dark, I saw an outline of Brad, sitting up in bed.

"That you?" I whispered, stupidly.

"Yeah. You feeling okay?"

"Not really."

He chuckled and patted the bed next to him. "Lay back down." I chugged the rest of the water, ignored the water that missed my mouth, and shakily set the glass down on the nightstand. I crawled into bed and turned away from him, curling into a pitiful ball. He reached his hand out and cupped me, dragging me until I was flush against his hard body. He curled around me and kissed the back of my neck. "Go to sleep," he whispered.

"I hate alcohol," I mumbled.

"Shhh…" he said. I didn't hear anything else after that.

----

I woke up hot and sticky, to an annoying high pitched screaming sound. I looked around groggily, the only light coming from the TV, which was on. A yellow square cartoon was screaming incessantly, a loud feminine sound interrupted by short pauses. The video seemed to be stuck on some sort of repeat, the sound went on and on until the screams were finally interrupted by another character. I flopped over and tried to go back to sleep. Then the same annoying cartoon started laughing, a continual braying laugh that scraped at my subconscious. I scrambled through the covers and grabbed the remote, pressing buttons until the screen, and the room thankfully went dark. Ugh. I did a self-analysis and found that I wasn't that bad off. I was hot, but that was easily fixed, sticky *where did that come from*, and my head was pounding, but not at an intolerable level. I went in search of Brad.

I found him, eight short steps later, in the dining room, the phone to his ear and the paper spread out in front of him. I gave him a half-hearted wave and collapsed in the closest dining room chair. He stood, still on the phone, and poured me a glass of orange juice, which I grabbed and gulped with glee. Fresh-squeezed and ice cold.

He looked shower-fresh and gorgeous, and not at all suffering. Damn Man. He wrapped up his phone call with a few more uh-huhs and okays, and then hung up. He tapped his cell on the phone and looked at me. I swung my legs and looked everywhere but at him. I felt like I had done something wrong, but wasn't sure what.

"So…." he said, drawing it out. "Are you hungry?"

I frowned, pondering the question. I felt thirsty, but not necessarily hungry. "Depends."

"On what, pray tell."

"What the plan for today is."

"Well," he consulted his watch, a Patel Philippe. "It's 10am now. I have an errand to run off the Strip that will probably take a few hours. I thought maybe we could grab breakfast, then I could do my stuff and you could do whatever you want to do, and then we could meet back up, around 2:30. Our flight leaves at 6 - we should probably start heading to the airport around 4pm."

"What kind of errand?"

He fixed me with a steady look. "A personal one."

"Can I come?"

He tilted his head, thinking. "I guess so. It won't be all that exciting. Let's eat and then you can decide."

Not exciting was starting to sound pretty good to me. I felt like I had been here a month, with all that had happened. I stood up and headed to the bathroom. "I'll take a shower and get dressed."

I walked into the bathroom and turned on all of the jets in the shower. I was wearing a pair of worn pajama pants and a tee shirt - the most modest of the nightwear I had packed. I frowned, looking down at it. I didn't even remember putting it on last night. I pulled it off, turned off all of the lights, and stepped into the shower. Sometimes I love showering in the dark. For one reason, it helps my hangover headache to not have a blaring light shining down on me. But it also leaves me alone with my thoughts and just lets me think. I stepped forward, under the railhead, and let the hot water hit my face, the tiny streams feeling like heaven on my face. I tried to let my tension and stress flow out of my body with the water, and to focus on my thoughts and try to remember last night, but I could only think of one thing. Brad.

Damn.

I tapped my fingers on the wall and tried to think. I was horny. Dammit. Talk about rotten timing. I thought for a moment, then opened the door, a wave of steam blowing out and cool air hitting my na**d skin as I left the shower. I walked, soaking wet, to the entrance to the living room. I took a deep breath and stepped out.

---

Brad was on the phone again, trying to explain custodial rights regarding relocation to one of his paralegals, when Julia appeared from the bedroom. Dripping wet, her skin tan and perky, her body flush from the shower's heat - she looked like every wet dream he had had as a teenager. Her hair slicked back and her face make-up free, she also looked very young, and innocent. His dick twitched in his pants, and he felt it start to grow.

"Debbie, I have to go."

"But - "

"Later. I'll call you back." He ended the call, and stood up abruptly. Her eyes shifted to his crotch, and he moved a hand to cover his erection but it was too late. Her mouth curved into a knowing smile and confidence grew in her eyes. She knew she had him.

---

Hesitantly, I stood in the doorway, my confidence wavering as I waited for Brad to look up from his call. I was losing my nerve when he saw me and started to stand, ending his call. He stood erect and I saw the firm outline of his big dick in his dress pants. He wanted me. I gave him a saucy smile and slowly spun, running my wet hands down the curve of my back and walked back to the shower, willing him to follow me.

---

Brad breathed hard, trying to decide what to do. Every bone in his body, especially that one, wanted to follow her. He finally cursed under his breath and set his phone down.

---

I turned on the closet light, bathing the bathroom in soft indirect light. I met him outside the shower door, grabbing his skirt collar the moment he walked over the threshold. I pressed my wet body against his dry one, and he cursed when my cold wetness hit his clothes. His mouth was quickly on mine - taking me by force, and his large hands were everywhere, on my slick ass, around my tiny waist, and cupping my br**sts and squeezing. I had a huge and growing need in between my legs - pounding so hard that I could hardly think of anything else. I ripped hard at his dress shirt, popping buttons and tearing the shirt open so that I could see his tanned chest - thinly covered in dark hair. My hands ran down his stomach and grabbed hard at his pants and belt, pulling them away from his body and tried to reach my hands down, in his pants. He used his hands and kept me at bay, unbuckling his belt and dropped his pants to the ground, his athletic briefs the only thing covering his cock, and it now stuck almost straight out. I grabbed the top of his briefs and pulled down, his c**k popping out, and I gasped, amazed at the thickness and shape of it. It was the biggest thing I had ever seen, thick and tan-colored, meaty. The head was swollen, but not too big, in perfect proportion to his shaft. I worried, seeing its girth, that I wouldn't be able to take it.

He grabbed my waist hard, and lifted me up. I automatically wrapped my legs tight around him, his stiff dick dangerously close to my pussy. He grabbed my ass checks and carried me, his mouth on mine, his tongue fighting in perfect harmony with mine. We couldn't get enough of each other, and I felt rabid for him.

He stepped over the shower threshold and closed the door, and we were in the spray of the water; it ran hot down my back. I let my feet hang and he set me down, gently. Our mouths separated, and we panted, breathing at each other. He grabbed my face with both hands, pressing me back until my I hit the shower wall, and ran one hand down my neck and body, grabbing and squeezing every body part he hit, from my br**sts to my stomach, to the cheek of my ass to the cup of my sex. I panted, wanting him, but he held me back, pressed against the wall as his eyes devoured me.