Life in the Oasis Ch. 01

Author's Note

Welcome to the Part 3! This is the first chapter in the final series in the Elysium Trilogy. If you haven't yet, I suggest you read Part 1 and Part 2, although you do not need to have read the previous two parts to be able to understand the story (or enjoy the sex!), so don't let the size of this series intimidate you. You are welcome to start here and go back later if you choose to.

Be aware, this series includes a variety of adult situations, and I do my best to ensure that the tags are correct and comprehensive for each chapter. These stories will include things like male and female bisexuality, gay sex, lots of interracial sex, some incest, oodles of group sex, voyeurism and exhibitionism, all set in a near future universe where sex is far more open than in our world. You'll find a lot of the standard tropes turned on their head here, so don't be surprised to have your assumptions challenged!

Thanks to all the fans and supporters who have been tagging along since last October when the series started. My goal is to publish one chapter a week, usually on Fridays, and I expect this series will include twenty chapters, same as the previous two series. As always, these characters are all fictional, and everything comes from the author's imagination.

As always, if you like what you've read, give us a vote, leave a comment and a follow. Thanks for reading!

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Thursday, July 31, 1969

The Oasis, Las Vegas

Winnie Chesterfield didn't have time for this. It was just after one in the afternoon, and he needed to focus on the rest of his day. Today was going to be one of the biggest days of his life, and he couldn't afford to be distracted.

But how could he say no to these two?

Bambi and Thumper were the two hottest cocktail waitresses he employed, and they were probably the two kinkiest, too. And that was saying a lot in Las Vegas. The girls were inseparable, and everybody knew that if you wanted to date one, you ended up dating both. Sometimes at the same time.

Like today.

Winnie had half an hour before he was scheduled to do a tour of the Oasis Resort and Casino with two big Hollywood moguls who were in town to scout shooting locations for their next spy thriller. Two hours later, he had to sit down with the star of the new show opening in the Oasis that night and his agent. And after that, he had another meeting with one of his New York connections who wanted to 'talk business.' That was the only meeting he was concerned about.

So, with all that scheduled, of course he was in his office, his pants around his knees, Thumper's mouth around his cock and Bambi's tits in his face.

There were some perks to running a Vegas casino, and getting to bang the cocktail waitresses two at a time was one of them. He knew folks at the tables would be having trouble getting drinks, but he didn't care. This was too good to let a little customer service get in the way of his afternoon delight.

Bambi's beehive hairdo, mounds of beautifully tinted buttery yellow hair piled on top of her head, looked exquisite above her large, round breasts, both of which were shoved into Winnie's face, his mouth locked around her left nipple. Bambi loved getting her tits sucked, and this was the quickest way to get her ready for a good, quick fucking.

Thumper, on the other hand, loved nothing more than a fat cock in her mouth. Winnie wasn't the best looking or most well-endowed guy on the planet, but he was their boss, he did handle the bonuses and tip allocations, and the two girls never had a qualm about ensuring they were on his good side. And if they could get a couple of orgasms in the process, well, that was a nice afternoon's work.

If it wasn't scandalous enough that Bambi and Thumper were bisexual, the fact that Bambi was as white as ivory, and Bambi as black as ebony, with a beautiful afro hairdo that framed her cute face, certainly ensured that a date with these two would raise eyebrows, and cocks, all around the hotel. That was part of the thrill for them, after all. Vanilla sex was boring. This was Vegas, and if you couldn't get away with this kind of sin in Sin City, then what was the point?

"Keep sucking, Thumper," Winnie said breathlessly, trying to speak around Bambi's tits in his face. "Get me good and wet for you," he urged.

Thumper looked up at him with those big brown eyes of hers, and redoubled her efforts, bobbing her head up and down on his cock. She was the more petite of the two women. Where Bambi was stacked like a Playboy model, Thumper was thin and lithe, her tits on the smallish side, little raised bumps that just filled out a bra. Winnie loved the contrast as much as he loved her mouth.

So, when the girls cornered him in his office, he couldn't say no.

After another quick few minutes' worth of dick sucking, Winnie shifted the girls, bending Thumper over his desk, as Bambi sat on top of it, pulling up her miniskirt and presenting her pussy to Thumper, who buried her face into it. Winnie moved around behind Thumper, lifted her skirt to find no underwear. Her pussy looked good enough to eat, and he slowly worked his dick in, taking her from behind. As soon as Winnie bottomed out, Thumper moaned into Bambi's pussy, and Bambi grabbed her girlfriend by the back of the head, forcing her mouth down onto her clit.

Both girls sported a healthy patch of pubic hair above their pussies, Bambi's a rich shade of brown, giving the lie to her blonde beehive. Thumper's was thick and curly, and as dark as the hair on her head. Winnie reached around, trying to feel Thumper's breasts through her cocktail waitress uniform, but there just wasn't enough tit there to feel much more than cloth, so he put his hands on each side of her hips and began to thump her, pun intended.

Winnie smiled and Bambi bit her lip and smiled back. Bambi was loud, and her shrieks had to be audible in the offices around Winston's, but he didn't care. He was the boss, and it wouldn't hurt to remind his staff that while he was the boss, he was barely thirty and still a party boy at heart. He'd had more than one offer for a quickie from his lovely female staff after they heard his partners during the day moaning and screaming their pleasure in his office. It was good advertising.

"Fuck me, boss!" Thumper urged, pushing back into his cock as he thrust forward, each time bottoming out and sending a little shiver through her body. "Dump your load in me, boss, I need to feel that cream," she growled.

Winnie loved the dirty talk, and he made sure to encourage it amongst his partners. The girls knew it and made sure to oblige him.

"Fuck her, Winnie," Bambi urged. "Stick your cock in her black snatch and make her moan." Bambi moaned herself, the feeling of Thumper's tongue on her clit as she squeezed and tugged on her nipples was making her hotter and hotter. "Oh, Thump! You're going to make me cum, baby!"

Thumper kept up her assault on Bambi's pussy, and Winston fucked Thumper as hard as he could. He glanced up at the clock and knew he needed to wrap things up. He focused his attention on the warm wetness around his cock, watched the two girls playing with each other -- any man's fantasy -- and soon felt that familiar stirring in his loins. Another ten seconds and he was grunting, his cock pouring forth its seed into Thumper, who began to moan as soon as she felt his dick start to pulse in her.

"Oh boss, fill me up!" She urged, reaching behind to spread her cheeks as Winnie fucked her good and hard, his cum lubricating his cock even further. Winnie grunted one last time and then collapsed on top of Thumper, who, in turn, collapsed on top of Bambi.

The three stayed like that for a few seconds, until a loud knock on the door interrupted their post-coitus breather.

Winnie immediately withdrew his cock from Thumper, pulled his pants up and buckled them, then grabbed his sports coat from the coat rack by the door and threw it on. Bambi hastily fixed her bra, buttoned up her blouse and pulled down her skirt. She ran to the mirror hanging on the wall above the fireplace, and checked to make sure her hair wasn't too mussed. She would have to reapply her makeup later.

Thumper, who was almost fully clothed, grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on the desk, wiped herself down, and then threw the cum soaked wad into the trash can under Winnie's desk, straightened her skirt and blouse, and touched her hair to make sure it was still in a thick black orb around her head.

Winnie looked at her with a half-grin. While he enjoyed playing with both girls, Thumper was his favorite. They even had a daughter together, another closely held secret that he'd gone to great lengths to keep. She'd named the girl Bathsheba, and she was four years old. Winnie saw her as often as he could, which wasn't that often. He put in the back of his mind a reminder to go see the pair later. But now, he had to focus on business.

All this took less than thirty seconds. There was another rap at the door, and Winston opened it, to find his secretary standing there, with two very large men behind her.

"Sir, the two producers are here to see you," she said, gesturing behind her.

"Of course, of course. Cubby, Harry -- come on in," Winston said. "Let me introduce you to two of my top performing waitresses. This is Bambi," he said, gesturing to the blonde. "And this is Thumper," he said, gesturing to the brunette.

The two men entered, filling the room. Albert, who everyone called Cubby, was tall, wearing a gray suit with a thin black tie and a pocket handkerchief. Harry, his partner, was wearing a herringbone suit with no tie, a cigarette perched on his lips.

The two men smiled broadly when they saw the women. "You certainly have some lovely ladies working for you, Winnie," Cubby said. "Bambi and Thumper, eh? I like it. I'm going to have to use that," he said, winking at his partner.

The two waitresses smiled and nodded to the men. Winston palmed each girl a hundred-dollar casino chip -- more than a week's wages -- and the pair hustled from the room. Winston took the two producers in tow and led them to the casino floor.

"We're one of the newest and the second largest of all the hotel casino resorts here in Las Vegas," Winston told the two men as he gave them the grand tour. It was a bit quiet on a Thursday afternoon, but there were still plenty of people in the casino, enough to make a thin haze of tobacco smoke that hung below the ceilings. "We've got every table game you can think of, and more than five hundred slot machines," he said. "The hotel has every amenity, from room service to laundry, and we can host more than 5,000 guests at max capacity. The only hotel bigger than us is the International, and that's the biggest in Nevada," Winston said.

The two Hollywood producers looked impressed. "How often are you full?" Cubby asked, "And if we were to film here, how long do you think we could get away with it?"

"We're usually full on the weekends, but we rarely hit max capacity. We average about 4,000 guests for a full night. As for how long, depends on how much you want to pay," he said, grinning.

Cubby smirked at him and took a drink from a passing waitress' tray. "The drinks are free?"

"All day long," Winston said. "We find that the more liquored up the guests are, the better time they have and the more they spend," he noted.

"What's this I hear about Elvis Presley playing?" Harry noted, grinding out his cigarette into one of the many standing ashtrays around the casino floor.

"I've booked him through the end of the year," Winston said, a proud smile on his face. "This is his comeback tour. He'll be staying in the Penthouse, and doing three shows a week. We've sold out through the next three weeks," he noted. "Let me show you the auditorium," Winston said, directing the two men through the casino floor towards a large foyer on the far side of the gaming floor.

The auditorium was large, state-of-the-art with large speakers set framing the stage. The light crew and sound techs were working on getting the place prepared for tonight's concert.

"We can seat a thousand people in here," Winston noted with pride. "The only venue bigger than ours is in the International," he told them. "But our auditorium is cozier. It's a better experience. People are going to feel like they're sitting in Elvis's lap tonight."

"How many seats are in the International's concert hall?" Harry asked. He had lit up another cigarette, and stood puffing away, watching the hustle and bustle around the stage.

"They can fit two thousand," Winston said, the smile faltering. "But it's not nearly as intimate."

"Intimate or not, they'd make double the money filling their room to yours," Cubby said, raising his eyebrows. Harry said nothing. Winston had heard all these arguments before, including from his business manager, but he remained adamant. The venue was better, even if it was smaller. Hell, it was better because it was smaller. Winnie liked a buck as much as the next guy, but in the end, he cared more about the experience than the profitability. A show here was memorable in a way that a show at the International, with its shoehorned seats and binocular-needing views, couldn't ever be. Someday he'd convince people he was right, but he didn't have time to do that today.

Their time was running out, and Winston needed to be back in the office for his next meeting. He did not want to be late for that one. You don't keep royalty waiting.

"Here, I need to run, but you all are welcome to spend as much time as you like. Your rooms are comped through the weekend, and here are some free chips to spend at the tables," he said, handing each man a stack of twenty-dollar chips.

"Thanks, Winnie," Cubby said, palming the chips. "Can we get tickets for the show tonight?"

Winston smiled. "Already done. They're waiting in your rooms," he added.

The two men smiled, waved and headed off to play some blackjack. Winston hurried back to his office.

If he could get those two to film their new movie in his hotel, it would be a massive boost to business. He just hoped they didn't go over to the International. He didn't need the competition.

By the time he arrived, his next meeting was ready to start. His outer office was filled by half a dozen men, standing around, smoking and generally making a nuisance of themselves. Elvis didn't go anywhere without the Memphis Mafia, even to business meetings.

"Red, Sonny, make sure you keep these guys in line. I don't need any more complaints from the cocktail waitresses about them getting fresh," he said, a grin on his face. Red and Sonny were Elvis's bodyguards, big, strapping brothers who sported the same long hair and sideburns as their boss. The two men smiled and nodded at him, as Winnie opened the door to his office and stepped in.

There, in the flesh, was the King of Rock and Roll. Elvis was sporting a pair of dark sunglasses, a tight white shirt with a flared collar and a large pendant necklace around his neck, hanging down into the fur that sprouted out from the open neck of the shirt. He had a black jacket on and was rifling through the knick-knacks on the bookshelves along one of the walls of Winston's office. His tour director, Joe, was seated in front of Winston's desk, and his promoter and manager Colonel Tom Parker, was standing on the other side of the room, looking out the window.

"Gentlemen, I trust everything is going well?" Winston said, breezing in, closing the door, and taking a seat behind the desk.

"Just getting ready for tonight," Elvis said, in his soft, southern drawl. "You know me, baby. TCB, all day long," he added. He was sweating, and Winston wondered what kind of drug cocktail was flowing through his veins today.

TCB was short for 'taking care of business,' one of Elvis's favorite catchphrases. He had a massive gold ring on his finger, with the letters T, C, and B picked out in diamonds, below a large diamond and flanked by two lightning bolts, picked out in the same diamonds as the letters. It must have weighed five pounds.

"Winnie, this auditorium is too small," Colonel Parker said. "The International's is double the size. Why did you guys build such a small auditorium?"

Winston bristled at that. "Because we want the venue to be intimate. We want people to feel like they're right on stage with the acts," he said. "That's why we charge more," he added.

"Yeah, but people want to see me," Elvis said, looking over at Winnie. "More seats, more people get to see me," he added. "Money don't matter none," he added.

"It may not matter to you, but it matters to me," Winston said, sourly.

"It's not that money doesn't matter, Winnie, it's that you're going to pay Elvis the hundred grand per week in his contract, regardless of how well the casino does. Isn't that right?" the Colonel said, pouring himself a drink from Winston's bar.

"The hotel is struggling, and you being here is going to put us on the map. I need people to walk away from this concert feeling like it was worth the extra money," Winston told the three men.

The Colonel sipped his drink, and Joe raised an eyebrow. Elvis turned to look at Winston squarely. "Don't you worry about that. I'm going to give the people the best damn concert they ever saw."

"That's what I want to hear," Winston said. The Colonel looked at Winston closely, and Winston didn't like what he saw in the Colonel's eyes. There was some kind of play happening here beneath the surface, and it made Winston's skin crawl. Largely because he didn't know what was coming.

Joe had a few questions about the venue, which Winnie answered. The meeting broke up, and Elvis and his entourage left, to go back upstairs and get ready before the concert that night. Winston couldn't shake the bad feeling he got from Parker.

It was close to supper time, but Winnie knew he had one more meeting today, and this one he absolutely couldn't afford to miss. He sat doing paperwork for an hour, waiting patiently.

Shortly after five, there was a knock on the door, and his secretary escorted his final meeting of the day in.

Jimmy 'The Chin' Catena stepped into the room. He was an immense man, built like a beer keg, his head sitting directly on his shoulders, no neck and no chin -- hence the nickname. His hands were thick, with fat, sausage fingers. He wore a white shirt with flared collars, open at the neck with no tie, and a blue sports coat with khaki pants that were fighting a losing battle against his waistline.

The Chin was Winston's primary contact with the Genovese family, who had been in Vegas from the beginning. Originally founded by Lucky Luciano, the most famous of all the Vegas gangsters, the family was still the primary power behind the Vegas gambling scene. Winston had worked for casinos affiliated with the Genovese for a decade now, and it was with their blessing that he'd opened the Oasis. They also controlled a number of other casinos, including the International. The Chin's father, Jerry Catena, was Underboss for the Genovese, part of the troika who were currently running the family after Vito Genovese's arrest and imprisonment in 1959, and death earlier in '69.

Now, of course, Winnie didn't know that. Almost nobody knew that. The Genovese were notorious for being cagey about who was actually in charge, and after Vito Genovese died, Winnie had no idea who was running things back on the East Coast. The internal politics of the family didn't really matter to him. All he knew was that the Chin was his contact, and that he needed to keep their 15% skim flowing. He was very good at that. No matter what, he made sure the family got taken care of, and for that he got a lot of leeway in running his business.

He hadn't met with The Chin in months, and when this meeting was requested, he was surprised. Normally they stayed at arms-length, all their business was transacted through cut-outs and go-betweens. That Catena wanted to meet directly, and in his office, was menacing.

"Hello, Winnie," Catena said, stepping over to the bar and pouring himself a drink. He sat down in one of the chairs in front of Winston's desk, took a sip of his scotch and soda, and then lit up a large cigar. He puffed happily for a few moments, letting Winston stew.

"Hello, Jimmy," Winston responded warily. Catena hated his nickname, didn't like to be reminded of how he looked, and so only someone with a death wish called The Chin that name to his face.

"I've got some bad news, Winnie," Catena said, puffing on his cigar, sending thick plumes of smoke into the air, which swirled around in the air conditioning. Winston kept it cold in his office, to counter the sweltering heat outside. "Elvis won't be staying here long," The Chin told him. The words just hung in the air, and Winnie felt his stomach lurch.

"I've got a contract, Jimmy. I've got a six-month contract, one hundred grand a week, for three shows a week, good through the end of the year," Winston said, looking at Catena hard. "He can't break that contract, or he'll owe me a million bucks. Even he can't afford that kind of a nut," Winston said. This was exactly what he had been worried about.

"He's got a new contract, Winnie. He's going to be playing the International. A two-year contract, for 125 g's a week, and his man Parker gets 50k as a consultant to the hotel," The Chin said, puffing on his cigar. "The Boss has approved it. The International has a bigger auditorium, and we can make more money over there than here," he added.

"That's not the point!" Winston shouted. "It's more intimate here!"

Jimmy raised his eyebrows at Winston. "Winnie, I took this meeting out of courtesy to you. You've always been a team player, a good earner. We want what's best for everybody, and what's best for everybody is Elvis goes over to the International. And to prove we're not hardhearted, the Boss says you'll get 20% of the take from the six months of his shows that he shoulda been playing here, and you only have to cover Parker's fee," he added. "Now, that's fair, isn't it?"

"Fair's not the fucking point, Jimmy! It's not just about the money! This was going to put the Oasis on the map! We'd fill the joint regardless of the shows. Elvis here was worth the place being full for a solid six months," Winston said, rubbing his forehead. "This is going to fuck up everything I've planned," he added.

Jimmy took a sip of his scotch and soda. "Like I said, we're not trying to fuck with you, Winnie. We just want to make as much money as we can before Elvis drops dead from all the fucking drugs he's doing. Okay? Boss says he can do the three weeks you've already sold tickets for, and then he's moving to the International. That's nine shows here, and that should be enough to pack the place. Besides, if this place is as good as you all say it is, three weeks is plenty."

"No, Jimmy. This is bullshit. Tell the Boss I won't do it," Winston said. The minute the words were out of his mouth, he realized he fucked up.

The Chin looked at him blankly. He sat his drink on Winston's desk, stubbed out his cigar, and sat back in the chair, folding the two pork chops he had for hands onto his ample belly.

"Winnie, this isn't a negotiation, and if I get back on a plane and tell the Boss what you just said, well..." The Chin looked around the room, surveying the space that Winston spent most of his time in. "It would be a shame if the Oasis ended up like the El Rancho," he noted.

Winston gulped. The El Rancho was one of the older casinos in Las Vegas, at the north end of the Strip, and the first in Vegas to have air conditioning. It burned to the ground in 1960, just a few years before Winston arrived on the scene. The cause of the fire was never determined.

"And it would be a shame to make that little girl an orphan," he added quietly.

That statement sent a chill down his spine. The Chin knew about Thumper, knew about Bathsheba. Somebody on his staff must be ratting him out. It was the only way. He cared about the hotel, but that girl was his blood, his only progeny -- so far. He'd stayed single as long as he could.

Winston knew he couldn't really argue. He did the math in his head, and with the 20% take of the larger venue, he'd not only be breaking even on the deal, he'd also likely end up ahead. It was a fair deal, and he knew he had to take it. It wasn't as if he had an alternative.

This was the reality of mob rule in Las Vegas. Part of him wished there was another way. Another part of him swore he'd find that other way, if it was the last thing he did. They could threaten him, threaten the hotel -- that was business. But threatening his daughter? That was personal.

And so, for three weeks, the Oasis was mobbed by crazed Elvis fans, and the sounds of Suspicious Minds and In the Ghetto were heard every Thursday, Friday and Saturday until the last week of August.

* * *

Friday, May 28, 2032

Wiley Residence, West Las Vegas

"Happy graduation, lil' bro," Curtis Wiley told his little brother, Elijah. "You made it further than I ever did," he laughed. He slapped Elijah on the arm and grinned at him.

Elijah grinned back at his older brother. He took off the black, square mortarboard with the black and red tassel, the gold "2032" hanging from the top, and let his brother rub his hand through his tight black curls.

Eli was tall, rail thin, with wiry muscles. He had an open face that was quick to smile, quick to laugh and his dazzling white teeth in his dark brown face along with his pretty features were openly admired by many of the girls he'd gone to high school with -- and some of the boys, if he had to be honest. Yet, despite his innocent good looks, he'd never really clicked with anyone at Western High School and had yet to even experience a first kiss.

It would be going too far to say that Elijah was the hope of the Wiley family, such as it was. Curtis was the patriarch now, their father doing a life sentence in High Desert State Prison for killing a rival during a drug feud. Their mother was a good woman, did her best to keep her boys out of trouble, and had no idea that Curtis, better known as "Red Dog," was the number two man in the Bloods street gang that ran most of Naked City and a slice of West Las Vegas. She'd have been appalled had she known -- it was running with the Bloods that had landed her man in prison. They'd never gotten married, so she could have found someone new, but she preferred to dote on her boys.

Red Dog made good money with the Bloods, and he took care of his brother and his mother, making sure they had the things he hadn't. Their mother thought Red Dog was in construction. Eli had never refused any gifts, whether cash or clothes, that his brother would lavish on him.

And, today, he was going to make sure Elijah finally got something he'd never had before.

"Lil bro," he said, wrapping an arm around Elijah, who was still wearing his red and black graduation gown. "After your party tonight, come round to the dry cleaners, okay? I got something special lined up for you."

Eli looked at his brother with open, wide eyes. "For me? What is it?"

"You'll see, lil' bro. Just don't be late," Red Dog told him, smiling.

It was just around eight that evening when Elijah made his way over to the dry cleaners in Naked City. Unlike his mother, he knew full well what his brother got up to. Elijah made certain what he was wearing, knowing he was ducking into the headquarters of the Bloods. Nothing blue or red, and no bandanas of any kind, so it was clear he was a civilian. He wore a plain white wife beater t-shirt, which showed off his muscled arms and chest, and a pair of basketball shorts, black with a gold stripe, the colors of the Las Vegas Outlaws, the city's NBA franchise. Nobody was going to mistake him as a gang member wearing white and black.

"Well, well, if it isn't Red Dog's baby brother," one of the older members of the gang said, as Elijah tentatively poked his head into the back office, knocking on the frame of the open doorway. "Congrats on graduating, 'mano," the gangster said, standing up and giving Eli a bro hug.

"Thanks, Twitch. You seen my brother? I'm supposed to meet him here," Elijah said, looking around. Twitch was alone in the back office.

"Yeah, he was over at the motel down the block. He told me to send you over there when you got here. He's in room nine," Twitch said, smiling.

Elijah felt his pulse start to quicken. He knew he was young and innocent, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to put two and two together. He thanked Twitch, rolled out of the dry cleaners and ambled down the block to the motel. Room nine was on the far end, on the ground floor, and he walked up to the room and knocked. The door opened, and his brother gestured him in, smiling.

"Bout time you made it here, Eli," Red Dog jibed him, poking him in the ribs. "I was starting to get worried you were going to blow me off."

"I would never do that, Curtis," Elijah told him. His eyes had started to adjust to the darkness in the room -- the curtains had been drawn, and the dying light of the day outside had been bright enough to make it hard to see in the darkness of the motel room.

Like most motel rooms, this one was dominated by a large bed, just a double, but sitting on the bed was a pretty little white girl, dirty blonde hair hanging down to her shoulders, wearing a pink crop top that outlined a pair of smallish, perky breasts. Her belly button sported a cute piercing, and she had a small tattoo of a heart on her lower right abdomen. He had on a pair of tight booty shorts, also pink. She was a skinny thing, heavily made up, but she was cute, and it was clear she wasn't there to play checkers.

"Happy graduation, bro. I know you're kinda shy when it comes to girls, and I don't think you been 'round the block yet, so I figured I'd take care of you tonight. She's all yours, a gin-u-wine, registered sex worker, so you ain't breakin' no laws, which I know you care about," Red Dog gave him a half grin.

"Curtis, I don't know if I can do this," Elijah said, stammering. He could feel a stirring in his loins, and his heart was racing. He'd never done anything with a girl before. Did he really want to lose his cherry to a sex worker? Then again, did he really want to stay a virgin all his life?

"Text me when you're through. I want sloppy seconds, yo," Red Dog said, ignoring his little brother's trepidations, patting him on the shoulder, and then leaving the room. The door shut behind him with an audible click.

Elijah turned around and looked at the girl. She was smiling at him softly.

"Hi," she said, putting a finger into her mouth in a flirty way. "I'm Bunny," she said. "What's your name?"

"Elijah," he said, moving a little closer to the bed. Bunny got up and stood next to him. He towered over her, even though he was barely over six feet. She looked even cuter and more petite standing up.

"Happy birthday, Elijah," Bunny said, running her hands up his chest. "Let's party like it's your birthday," she told him, pulling his t-shirt up and kissing his chest gently.

"It's not my birthday," Elijah told her. "That was last month," he added, her lips and tongue dragging up to his nipples and making it hard for him to concentrate.

"You know, I don't really give a fuck it's not your birthday, baby," she said, giggling. "Your friend paid for the whole night, and I need to make sure you get your money's worth," she said. "Let's get you out of these clothes. But first..." she told him, stripping off her top, "let's get me out of mine!"

Bunny was now topless, her perky breasts, topped by pink nipples with small gold barbells through each, on display in the near darkness of the room. The only light came from around the almost closed bathroom door. Elijah gulped, Bunny's pierced tits having an immediate effect on him.

She pulled off her booty shorts, was wearing no underwear underneath, just a small patch of unruly brown hair, trimmed but not shaped, above her pussy. Elijah thought she was beautiful, and he could feel another stirring in his crotch at the sight.

She twirled for him, finger still in her mouth, and he got a look at her tight ass. She was probably the best-looking sex worker he'd ever seen. Granted, his experience was minimal, just the girls that his brother would bring around the house, women who worked for him doing unregistered sex work. Usually they looked a little rough, but this girl could have had a job in one of the casinos on the Strip. Hell, maybe she did, he thought. She certainly knew what she was doing.

"Let's see what I have to work with tonight, Elijah," she told him, remembering his name. For some reason, that made Eli feel enormously happy. She peeled off his wifebeater, running her hands down his toned chest and abs, then tugged down his basketball shorts, taking his boxers with them.

"Oh my God," she said. "No, no, no, no, no," she said, stammering, taking a step back. "That can't be real!"

Elijah didn't understand what she was talking about. He looked down, saw his cock, half-way to an erection. To him, it was just his cock. He'd looked at it every day, didn't think there was anything special about it. It was as black as the rest of him and cut, but that was all he considerable remarkable. Granted, he didn't watch a lot of porn and hadn't played high school sports, so he'd had limited experience with other men's genitalia, but he didn't think there was anything special about him.

"What's up?" he asked. "Did I do something wrong?"

Bunny looked up at him, a smile trying to break out on her face, but it was a smile mixed with fear. "Baby, you have got about the biggest cock I have ever seen on a man, and I've been doing this for years," she said. "How the hell do you walk around with that thing in your pants?"

"I just do," he said, starting to feel self-conscious. "I've not really seen other guys' dicks before. I'm sorry, I didn't realize there was something wrong with me," he said, and he started to grab his boxers to put them back on. This was a mistake, he thought.

"No, no, honey, no," she said, patting his chest, and looking up at him. "There's nothing wrong. I was just surprised," she said. "In a good way. I don't know if I'm going to be able to handle you though," she said, honestly. "I just... I've never... I mean, holy shit!"

Elijah didn't know what to think or feel. He felt like a freak, like he was deformed. Here he was, standing in front of a beautiful woman who was paid to have sex with him, and she just told him she didn't think she could do it. It was a humbling experience, and his felt his cock start to deflate.

"I mean, if that's what he looks like now," she said, licking her lips. "I can't wait to see him when he's angry!"

She reached out and tentatively touched his cock, her hands warm and smooth. That touch counteracted all of the worry and humiliation he'd felt at her reaction, and his cock began to inflate again.

Bunny couldn't get her hand around it, barely could with both hands. Granted, she was a petite, pixie of a girl, but her hands on his cock made him look even bigger than he actually was. She spat on her hands, getting them slick, and began to pull, rub and tug on Elijah's penis.

Soon, he was fully erect, and her eyes almost bugged out of her head. "Elijah, I've never seen anything like this. Not even in porn. You're at least as big as the biggest porn stars I've ever seen," she said, breathlessly. "I don't even think I can get much more than the head in my mouth. But I'm going to try."

She couldn't. She could barely fit his cockhead in her mouth, but the warm feeling of her tongue on his slit and her hands stroking him made Elijah groan with pleasure. He looked down, watching the head of his big black cock completely fill Bunny's tiny mouth, her bright red lips struggling to get even the head of his penis in her mouth.

"Baby, I'm sorry, but I can't do much more than this," Bunny told him, backing off. "I know your friend paid for all night, but I just don't think there's any way I can take a cock that big in my pussy and I can barely get much of you in my mouth. This is going to be a glorified hand job, but I'll do my best to make you feel good," she said, looking up into his eyes. "I'm sorry," she repeated.

"It's okay," Elijah said. "This feels really good," he told her, being honest. It felt way better than when he was beating his meat in bed, dreaming of the girls on the cheerleading squad.

Bunny was good at what she did, and she made up for the fact that she was too afraid of his size to fuck him by giving him the best hand job she could. He had very little stamina, this being his first time with a girl, and it wasn't long before he was telling her he was about to cum.

She aimed his cock at her mouth, stuck out her tongue, and began to stroke him faster and faster, until she could feel the pulse of his orgasm. The first wad of cum hit her in the forehead, dripping down into her eyes, which she closed. She felt but couldn't see the next few shots, as they hit her nose and cheeks. By the time Elijah had finished, her face was a cum covered, makeup smeared mess. He'd managed to hit her so hard with one of his shots of jizz that it knocked one of her eyelashes off, and it hung by a strand of cum on her cheek.

"Oh my God," she said. "I'm completely covered! You are something else, let me tell you!" She grinned up at him.

"Did I do okay?" he asked her.

"You did great, honey," she reassured him, patting him on the arm. "I need to go get cleaned up before your friend comes back," she said, and she went into the bathroom and closed the door.

The bedroom was plunged into complete darkness. Elijah had a general idea of where he was, and he moved across to the door, and found the light switch, flipping it on. He found his clothes in a pile by the bed and threw them back on.

He didn't know what else to do. Was he supposed to stay there? Should he have kissed her? Hugged her? Did he need to give her a tip -- more than the tip he'd already given? He had no idea, so he texted Red Dog that he was finished, and took a seat in the ratty cuck chair that was next to the bed and waited.

Bunny came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, her makeup reapplied, the fake eyelashes both removed and her face completely cum free.

"Honey, you're going to make some woman, or man, very, very happy someday with what you're packing. Hell, you could be a star with a dick like that," she said, smiling at him. "If you ever need a job, you come over to the Elysium Hotel and tell them Bunny sent you."

The door to the motel room opened, and Red Dog came in, a big grin on his face.

"So, my little brother's a virgin no more, eh?" He said, clapping Elijah on the arm.

"Well, not exactly," he said, a sheepish grin forming on his face but soon falling off. Elijah was still processing everything that had happened. A mixture of anger, sadness, humiliation and -- if he was honest -- arousal all flowed through him. He had no idea what Bunny was so excited about. Who needed a big cock if girls were scared of it?

"What happened? You couldn't get it up? You's too young to need Viagra, boy," Red Dog said, looking at his brother quizzically.

"It wasn't his fault," Bunny said. "He got it up just fine, and I gave him the best hand job I could," she explained. "He's just too beaucoup," she said to Red Dog. "No boom boom with soul brother," she went on.

Red Dog didn't get the reference, and his face scrunched up into a frown. "What? He got a tiny dick or something?"

Bunny barked out a laugh. "No, babe, it's the exact opposite. He's hung like an elephant."

Red Dog did a double take. "What? You for real? You ain't jus' playin'?"

"See for yourself," Bunny said. She stepped over to Elijah and with a swift tug, pulled his shorts and boxers down.

"Hey!--" Elijah said, but by the time he moved to stop her, his shorts were around his ankles and his cock was on full display in the full light of the room. His cheeks burned with shame, but his body reacted to the eyes on him and his cock started to inflate. His brother hadn't seen him naked since they were little kids.

"Holy shit!" Red Dog said, his mouth dropping. "Boy, why didn't you tell me about this?"

Elijah yanked his boxers on and then pulled his shorts up over them. "Curtis, I ain't never seen another man's penis in real life. I thought I was just the same as everybody else, okay? I didn't realize I was some kind of freak," he added bitterly.

"Boy, you ain't no freak. You are about as blessed as a man has ever been blessed," his brother told him, laughing. "Jesus, I gotta get you in some movies. Go on home and we can talk about this in the morning, okay? I got some business here with Bunny to transact," he said, throwing his arm around Elijah. "Damn boy, you put Dirk Diggler to shame. I'm proud as hell."

Elijah's head was spinning. He soon found himself outside, the door shut behind him. The sun was about fully set, and he pulled out his phone, hoping he'd get lucky and find an uber driver brave enough to pick up a ride at this motel in Naked City and get him back to his mother's house.

His first experience with sex was a dismal failure, in his view. Sure, he'd gotten to see Bunny naked and felt her mouth and hands on his cock, but what good was a big cock if nobody wanted to let you fuck them? He shoved his hands in his pockets and waited.

After fifteen minutes, it was clear nobody was going to pick him up, so he started walking home.

* * *

Saturday, May 29, 2032

The Elysium Hotel, Las Vegas

I'd never been to a bachelor party before. I didn't have a ton of male friends, and while my best friend Ben was still head over heels in love with my assistant Claire, they had only been dating six months and nobody, even somebody as impulsive as Ben, was going to pop the question that quickly.

My name is Jack Fisher. I'm a recent college graduate, a semi-famous hero who has prevented a mass shooting, stopped a kidnapping, and saved the President of the United States from assassination. I happen to be a reluctant, but now enthusiastic, award-winning porn star. I'm also the new President of Oasis Resorts, a company my soon-to-be stepfather, Solomon Sinclair, created for me. Sol is Chairman of the Sinclair Group, is one of the biggest casino moguls in Las Vegas, and is marrying my mother, Emily, next weekend in a star-studded event at his premiere property, The Elysium, the hottest sex themed hotel in Sin City.

Mom, and my two girlfriends Avery and Eva (it's a long story, trust me), were at the Elysium, enjoying a girls' night with Nyla, my soon-to-be stepsister and her entourage, the Terrible Trio. Mom's bachelorette party was going to be tomorrow night, so they were taking it easy. Knowing them, this meant they were probably all naked right now, enjoying each other.

So that left Sol, me, Miles (my soon to be stepbrother) and his husband Mikey, along with Lionel (Sol's bodyguard), Diego (my bodyguard and sometime lover), mom's assistant Jimmy Crosetti, and a handful of other male Sinclair Group senior staffers to take Sol out for a night on the town.

"We live in a sex hotel," I said to Lionel as we marched towards the row of Escalades that would take us out for our evening of non-Elysium debauchery. "Why would we go anywhere else if we want to throw a bachelor party for Sol?"

"Jack, he spends all his time in the hotel. He knows every staffer, every man and woman who works here. Hell, Emily has probably fucked them all. Even a guy like Sol Sinclair needs to get a bit of strange once in a while," Lionel said.

I guess that made sense. But a strip club? Really?

"Besides, this is the best strip club in the city, and I wouldn't be surprised if Sol hasn't had his eyes on buying it," Lionel added as we climbed into the truck. "So, just think of this as a business scouting expedition."

I grinned at him. Sol, Miles and Mikey sat in the back, and Lionel pulled out of the garage, smoothly merging us into the traffic on Las Vegas Boulevard.

It was good being home. I looked out at the lights of the Strip, the crowds wandering the streets as the sun began to set. I graduated from Georgetown two weeks ago. Avery and I had packed up all our stuff, Claire had it shipped back to Vegas, and I left DC and that chapter of my life behind me in the jet fumes of the Sinclair Group's G6.

I was going to miss the Watergate and my old friends, my old hangouts and the like. That being said, I hadn't spent much time doing anything besides studying, baseball and my roommate Ben during my four years of college. DC was never going to be my home, so leaving wasn't as hard as it would have been if I'd grown attached to the place.

For me, home was wherever Avery and Eva were, and they were both in Vegas.

"What do you think Mom wants for a wedding present?" I asked Sol.

He raised his eyebrows and looked at me. "I think you know full well what she wants," Sol said.

I grimaced. Not more of this. I knew what he meant -- for some reason, since last January, Mom has wanted me to fuck her. We'd come close -- handjobs, blowjobs, anal -- but I drew the line at what the porn writers called PIV because it was illegal and because Avery had come into the picture and nipped all this incest business in the bud. Well, most of it.

What we had already done had led to articles in the newspaper, me almost getting expelled from college, and drama between Avery and me. Was giving Mom what she wanted worth it? Not really, in my view. I didn't even understand why she wanted me so badly.

"Sol, I've been as honest with her as I can. Not while it's against the law, and not unless Avery says it's okay. Well, Avery and Eva now. I haven't even broached the subject with Eva, and I have no idea what she thinks about all this," I told him.

Sol looked at me, and I could see he was deep in thought. "I understand that, Jack. And, frankly, I hope she'll be willing to give you the space you want. But your mother can be demanding, and... well... she usually gets what she wants," he added with a tight grin.

"I don't even understand why she wants me so badly," I told him. Maybe he had some insights I didn't have. "Even these days, you have to admit it's weird."

The last ten years in America had seen a renaissance when it came to sex -- people were far more open to sexuality these days, and things that had been controversial a few years ago, like polyamory, polygamy, or even things like incest, had become more common and even accepted in many places. More people were admitting they enjoyed sex with the same gender, more people were accepting of public sex and nudity, and everybody was much more relaxed about sex work and pornography. And, if anything, society had gotten much harsher on sex related crimes, like rape and anything involving kids. It was as if in return for letting more people do what they wanted, the lines were clear and anybody crossing them was given no leeway.

I have to say I liked this new modern era, and it had paved the way for the Elysium, and the rest of my future stepfather's businesses. But none of that explained why my mother was suddenly desperate to sleep with me.

At that, Sol laughed. "Isn't it obvious?"

I shook my head slowly. I felt kind of stupid, but I had no idea what he meant. "No... no, it isn't. Mom was a church mouse for most of my life, and then she calls me home to tell me she's marrying you and she's all over me like we aren't even related. It can't all just be hormones, right? I mean, that's why I was receptive, mostly, but she's not some hormonal twenty-something."

I had to be honest. After spending so much time in an all-male environment, having women throwing themselves at me, even my own mother, was gratifying. I knew I was a good-looking guy, but I never had women come on to me like they had since December when I came home. It would have taken someone with far greater willpower and a much more puritanical sense of sexual morality -- something I barely thought about these days -- than me to turn everyone down. Besides, it was fun.

"Jack, your mother loves me. I know this, no matter who she is fucking. We go together well, and as someone whose done similar things to what your mom wants to do, I don't hold it against her. But c'mon. Look at you. I mean, you're not the spitting image of your father -- you're like the perfected version of him. She's still in love with Jonathan, just like I'm still in love with Lena. Being with you is the closest she's going to get to being with him again."

My father, Jonathan, had died from COVID in 2020, twelve years ago, when I was nine. Mom had been devastated, and I knew it was hard for her. While we had been close, I knew that she preferred me at boarding school to being at home, but I had never considered it was because of how much I looked or acted like Dad.

If lightning had struck the car at that moment, it wouldn't have stunned me as hard as that statement did. I had never thought of it that way. Mom wanted to fuck me because she missed Dad. It all made sense now. Why she constantly chased me, even when I'd told her no. What I had just chalked up to her newfound slut ways was really something deeper. Something almost sweet.

"Is that why you and Nyla and Miles...?"

One of the things Mom and Sol had in common was they were both widowed. Sol's first wife, Lena, had been a beautiful, vivacious actress. She had died in a plane crash in 2019, the year before Dad died. The official version of events was the plane went down in Alaska during bad weather -- it had killed her, the junior Senator from Alaska and a dozen other people -- but we knew that weather had nothing to do with it. Lena Schuyler Sinclair had been murdered, and Sol was never going to rest until he found out who had killed her.

Sol looked out the window. "Part of it. I was in a bad place then, Jack. After Lena I was messed up for a good, long time. When I finally started to let go and open myself up to love again, Sally Hemingway tore my guts out. I wouldn't say I was suicidal, but I was miserable. Nyla saw that and understood. She's always been someone who liked to push boundaries, and she knew I needed something to draw me back into the world. So... it happened."

"And Miles?" I asked him. This was the first time either of us had opened up about this stuff and I was intrigued.

"Miles," he laughed. "That was an accident. He walked in on us. I still get the feeling Nyla contrived to make that happen, though," he said, remembering. "Anybody else I would have expected to freak out and run away, but Miles just came in and joined like it was nothing. I don't know," he told me, as he looked back at me with a half-grin. "I think they must have got their mother's sexual DNA. That's something Lena would have done in a heartbeat."

He turned back towards the window, lost in thought about his lost love, and the conversation died away.

We pulled up to the strip club ten minutes later. The Emerald Club was the largest strip club in the country. Over a hundred thousand square feet of space, divided into two fifty-thousand-foot segments. On one side was women, on the other men. It was one of the very, very few co-ed strip clubs I'd ever heard about.

I'd never been here. It was adults only, twenty-one and up, and since I turned twenty-one last October, there's really been no chance for me to go here. Besides, who cares about strip clubs when you're living in a sex palace? I saw just as many naked women and could do more than just look by walking around the Elysium on a daily basis.

"We have a private room upstairs," Lionel said as he pulled the SUV in front of the club. "Everything has been taken care of, so your job is to enjoy yourself, boss. Don't worry about anything. It's all covered. I'll introduce you to the club's owner, Darren Chamberlain."

There were a dozen of us, and the upstairs private room could easily have held ten times that number. There were six stages, each with a pole, surrounded by mirrors, and a DJ booth in one corner. There were laser lights, smoke machines, and an entire bar. There were large, plush leather couches in front of each stage, and there was so much space, we could pair off and each have our own show.

It was all private, and it was all for us.

The bar was manned by a cute bartender, petite and perky, beaming smiles at each of us as we came in. She looked good enough to eat.

"If the bartender is any indication of the quality of the staff here, I think you're going to have a good night, Sol," I said to him, gesturing over to her. He looked, she smiled at him, and he turned back to me.

"Not my type," he said. Then he gave me a half-grin. "But I can see your point."

There were a few other staffers, including two burly security guards, and I saw Lionel and Diego eyeing them as they looked around, scouting the exits. They were ostensibly off the clock but given everything that had happened to Sol and I over the last six months, I didn't think they'd ever be actually off the clock. Both of them cared a lot about us, and I appreciated that.

There was a red silk curtain at the far end of the room, and we saw a tall, good looking older Black man pull it aside and step into the room. His hair was cut close to his scalp, and the suit he was wearing was bespoke, and expensive, and I recognized the "H" logo on his shoes. They were Hermes and probably cost more than your average used car.

He smiled when he saw us and crossed the room. "Mr. Sinclair, I'm Darren Chamberlain, owner of the Emerald Club. Welcome! I'm a big fan of what you're doing with the Elysium and your film studio," he said. He stuck out his hand, and Sol shook it.

"Thank you. I'm looking forward to seeing your club in action," Sol told him. "I've heard a lot about it, but this is our first time here. This is my future stepson, Jack," he said, introducing me.

I have to admit, Darren Chamberlain was exactly my type. I'd had a thing for Black guys ever since I started hooking up with my roommate Ben, freshman year of college. I couldn't put my finger on it, but ever since Ben and I started hooking up, in my mind's eye, my ideal male sexual partner was black. Now, I know what you're thinking -- 'once you go black you never go back' or I'm some kind of a size queen - but it wasn't like that. I knew the "big black cock" thing was largely a myth. Black guys had the same cock sizes and variation as every other race. It was always nice, though, when you did find somebody who made the myth reality -- someone like, say Solomon Sinclair, or any of the Black sex workers and porn stars that worked for the Sinclair Group, and there were more than a few. In the end, it was just something I preferred, like brunettes over blondes, big breasts over small, and round butts over flat ones.

Seeing Darren made me wonder if he was bi and, if so, what he was packing, but I expected we'd get plenty of opportunities to watch good-looking men and women dance for us tonight. After all, it's not like we were going to be watching the owner strip, so I tried to keep my hormones in check.

Tried, being the operative word. Looking at him, I have to admit my cock began to inflate.

It was going to be a long night, at this rate.

"Oh, I can assure you, everything you've heard is true. I understand this is your bachelor party?"

Sol smiled at him. "Yes, I'm getting married next week. To Jack here's mom, actually," he said, resting a hand on my shoulder.

"Mom's a lucky gal, and so am I," I said. "Sol's one of the best men I know," I told Darren, truthfully.

He grinned at both of us. "You know, it's rare to see an adult stepson this happy about his Mom getting remarried," he laughed. "But I'm glad to see it."

He looked at our group, and then back at Sol. He knew who Sol was, and I could tell he was wrestling with a decision.

"Excuse me for one second," Darren said, and he took a step over and began to speak to the bartender. She nodded her head a few times, and then he went over and spoke to the two bouncers. They both nodded, turned and made a beeline for the exits, down the stairs and back into the main club.

Darren came back over to us. "Sol, it means a lot to me to have someone of your stature in my club. The bar is open, free of charge, for the rest of the night. I know your staff has already paid for the evening, but we'll comp the alcohol for your event. I've also sent the bouncers away. This is a signal to our dancers that they are free to do whatever they want with you guys. If they give you permission to touch them, you're free to do so. And you all are free to do whatever you want with and to each other, of course," he said. "We don't usually do this, but for you all? I think an exception can be made. Oh, and if the dancers want to do more?"

He winked at us.

Sol grinned, and so did I. I was wondering if we'd be able to do more than just look tonight, and it looked like we could. And I was also wondering what the rules would be on us touching ourselves or each other -- I knew I wouldn't mind playing with Sol some more before he officially became my stepfather, and I know the rest of the guys had all confirmed they'd been given permission to do what they liked from their significant others, so tonight could be as wild as we wanted it to be. Darren spoke one last time and dragged me away from my daydreams about Sol's cock.

"The only question I have for you is what gender mix would you like? And do you have any preferences in body types? We've got a lot to choose from," Darren said.

I pulled Jimmy, Diego, and the rest of the Sinclair men into a huddle and asked them what they wanted. It wasn't even close. I was shocked at how similar their tastes were.

Sol looked at the group and chuckled to himself. He nodded to me. "Jack can decide," Sol said. "I don't know if I'll be doing much more than looking, but we'll see," he said.

Darren looked at me. "Okay, Mr. Chamberlain, we're a pretty boring group. The guys would like black men and blonde women. The better endowed in the penis and breast department the better," I told him.

He gave me a broad smile, his teeth flashing white in his ebony face. "I think we can oblige," he said. He fished a handful of cards from his pocket. Each was heavy like a metal credit card, and all of them were gold. Three were engraved with a realistic image of a penis, and three were engraved with a realistic image of a pair of breasts. "Parcel these out to your guests," he told me. "If they want a male dancer, display the penis, and if they want a female, display the breasts. That way the dancers will know where to go," he told me.

"What if I want both?" I asked, a wry grin on my face. My memory of my time with Zoey Starlight, the lead trans star of Elysium Productions, and Tiana Deveraux, our cybersecurity expert and another beautiful trans who worked for Sinclair Group, passed through my thoughts, and my dick began to rise again.

"I like the way you think," Darren said to me. "Unfortunately, our trans dancers are only available on Tuesday nights. Next time let me know in advance and we can make sure to call someone in," he told me.

"It's fine -- I'm sure we'll be blown away by the dancers you've got tonight," I told him, playfully.

"Emphasis on blown, right?" He said, laughing. He slapped me on the arm. I liked Darren a lot -- it's too bad he wasn't going to stay down here and join us.

"You said it!" I told him, laughing.

He smiled one more time at me and then turned and raised his voice to the assembled men in the club. "Gentlemen, please grab some seats in front of the six stages. The show will begin momentarily!"

With that, he bowed with a flourish, and left by a side entrance that I hadn't even realized was there, carefully concealed near one of the stages. I gave the crew their cards, keeping a breast one for me and Sol, and making sure Mikey and Miles got a penis. The others we divvied out. Lionel and Jimmy took a breast, Diego and one of the Sinclair staffers I didn't know took a penis. The last two went to two other pairs of staffers I knew from meetings but not personally.

Sol and I took a seat in front of one of the stages. The rest of the men did the same, and a waiter came by and took drink orders. Once we'd all relaxed and we each had a drink in our hands, the lights began to dim, the smoke machine began to pour smoke onto the floor of the club, and we saw the DJ step into the box.

"Gentlemen, are you ready to party!?" The DJ yelled into the mic. We all cheered loudly, the base of our male voices rumbling. I looked at Sol, and noticed he had a slight smirk on his face. I hoped he was going to loosen up and have a good time. This evening was all about him, after all.

"Put your hands together for the men and women of the Emerald Club!" He shouted and dropped the beat. The music started bumping, the party started jumping and as I looked over at the various stages, I noticed they numbered, each one with a bright numeral at the top picked out in green gems that I doubted were actual emeralds, but who knew?

From our seat in front of stage one, we had a good view of all five of the other stages, which were all set in a circle in front of us. The performers would come in from the hidden doorway, head into the center of the circle and from there up to their assigned stage. There was a slot in each stage for those gold cards we'd been issued, and I made sure each pair of men had put theirs out properly.

A spotlight hit the hidden door, and it opened, smoke billowing around the floor, and soon the laser lights started going off. Thanks to the smoke, the whole place looked like we'd suddenly been dumped into a Star Wars battle, beams and streaks of laser light flying through the air.

"Put your hands together for Tiffany, on stage one!"

Tiffany was the first dancer who made her way out the door, and my jaw almost dropped to the floor. She was tall, completely stacked, with breasts almost as large as my girlfriend Avery's -- who had the largest breasts of any woman I'd been with except for my mom, who was still tweaking her bimbo look, and Cassidy Cane, one of the biggest porn stars of her era, who I worked with at Elysium Productions, and had a pair of old-fashioned bolt-on enhancements that made it impossible for her to bend over if she dropped a quarter, if you know what I mean. Tiffany's blonde hair was long, cascading down her back to her ass, and she was wearing a tight leather miniskirt, hot pink high heels and a tight white t-shirt with a big red lipstick kiss logo on the front.

Between Darren and now Tiffany, I could feel my cock begin to harden completely. I looked over at Sol, and he seemed pleased with what he saw.

"And on stage two, meet Twan!"

Tiffany made her way up the stage in front of us, and began to sway slowly, as she waited for the rest of the dancers to make their way out. Twan, the next named dancer, stepped into the light. He looked exactly the way I'd always pictured a Twan to look, since the first time I'd heard the name in that Ice Cube song. He was tall and skinny, with a twink's build, long dreadlocked black hair, to match his skin and body shape. He was shirtless, I saw a wink of gold through one of his nipples, and his tight speedos bulged significantly in the front.

I licked my lips and almost wished I was sitting in front of stage two. Miles and Mikey looked very pleased with what they saw. I realized it had been months since the last time I'd been with another guy -- Prince Edward in April, if I recalled correctly -- and the siren song of dick was calling my name. Then again, seeing Tiffany made my mouth water, too. It was the best of both worlds here in the Emerald Club.

I was so busy daydreaming about Tiffany and Twan, that I missed the next four dancers' names. Both of the next two women who came out were blonde, but they weren't nearly as busty as Tiffany. One was very petite, with a swimmer's build, wearing a summer dress that looked completely out of place in strip club, but maybe that was the attraction. The other woman was probably the most average of the dancers we'd seen tonight -- medium height, nice build, moderately sized breasts, but her ass was perfect. Two round, beautiful globes -- the kind of woman men would follow with their eyes wherever she went. She was wearing bright red compression shorts that gave her a nice cameltoe and hugged her ass perfectly, and a matching red sports bra.

The last two men were as different from Twan as they could be. One of them was Black, the other Hispanic. The other Black dancer was built like a linebacker, completely shredded, and it was clear he spent most of his time in the gym. His head was shaved, like Sol's. I thought he was attractive, but the muscle thing never really did it for me -- I liked my men fit and lean, like Twan. The Hispanic guy honestly reminded me a lot of Diego. He was covered in tattoos, although none went up past his neck, unlike Diego's. They were both topless and wearing speedos, like Twan.

The DJ started playing some trance, and the dancers began their show. We'd been given carte blanche by Darren to do what we liked. I looked over at Sol and saw him nudging his crotch a little. I knew he was getting hard, just like I was.

I looked over at Miles and Mikey and noticed they had not wasted any time. They were full on making out with each other, kissing and groping as they watched Twan gyrate in front of them. He was smiling down at them, and I could see that the bulge in his speedos was getting bigger and bigger.

This was my first experience seeing strippers, especially male ones, and I wondered if the men would get hard.

The dancers began their routines, and I have to admit I was mesmerized by Tiffany. The things she could do, the way she could bend, twirling on the pole while making both Sol and I think she was dancing just for us, was amazing. I could have watched her for hours and she hadn't taken off a single piece of clothing yet.

Then, suddenly, just as that thought went through my head, she tore the white t-shirt with the red lipstick logo off -- literally tore it in half and threw the rags out towards us. Sol caught the shirt in mid-air.

Her breasts were just as spectacular as I expected them to be, firm and full, and I honestly couldn't tell if they were natural, or if she'd spent the money on the time consuming and expensive enhancement surgery that could significantly increase bust size with no scarring and no plastic. Mom had done that -- was still doing that, as far as I knew -- and I'd been with a few other women who'd had the work done and the results were fantastic. She made my mouth water.

I looked over at Sol and knew he was enjoying the show as well. We stared up at Tiffany as she began to dance again, and soon her leather skirt was flying through the air, landing in a pile at my feet. Her pussy was shaved, and I was shocked to see she had a Queen of Spades tattoo -- it appeared to be temporary -- covering her mons. I looked closely and noticed that it was exactly the same as the real one on Mom's back -- the "Q" being replaced with the "S" from the Sinclair Group logo.

I grinned broadly, and out of the side of my eye, I noticed Sol was grinning, too. He'd seen the same thing I had. Tiffany winked at us, and continued to dance. Sol's cock was now completely hard, poking so stiffly that I was afraid he was going to tear his trousers. I leaned over and tugged his zipper down, freeing his cock from its bindings. I reached in and pulled it out, spitting on my hand and then giving Sol a slow handjob while we watched Tiffany dance.

She had her back to us. Sol looked over at me, so I leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips. He sighed, and we turned back to watch Tiffany twerking at us. I rested my other hand on my crotch, and soon I had unzipped my pants and pulled my cock out to play with it. No sooner had I done that then Tiffany turned back around and saw Sol and I with our cocks out, my hands on both.

Her eyes went wide, and I was concerned she hadn't gotten the message that we were allowed to play with each other, but that fear was almost instantly gone as she smiled broadly at the two of us, and stepped down off the stage. She stepped immediately in front of Sol and leaned over him, her tits swaying as she got close enough for us to hear her.

"Your fiancée told me you were gifted in the size department, but I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes," she purred. She looked over at me. "And you're no slouch yourself!"

"Thanks," Sol said. "I'm Sol. This is Jack. You are a beautiful woman," he told her. My hand kept stroking his cock gently, along with my own.

"I know," Tiffany said, winking at him. "Your fiancée gave us these tattoos -- each of the dancers is wearing them, and she made us promise to take extra good care of you tonight. We'd have done it anyway, but seeing what you've got between those two legs of yours is what makes me love my job," she said. She settled down on her knees and tugged Sol's pants down around his ankles. She leaned over and tugged on mine, but the angle was bad, so I stood up and helped her, and soon Sol and I were sitting next to each other, naked from the waist down, our cocks at full attention. Tiffany wasted no time, taking Sol's dick into her mouth, while replacing my hand with hers on my penis.

I closed my eyes for a second, enjoying the feeling of her hand on my cock, before I looked to my left and saw Sol with his head thrown back, groaning softly.

I looked to my right and saw that Mikey, Miles and Twan were also getting better acquainted. Twan had stepped down off his stage as well, his speedo gone and a beautiful, uncut cock sticking straight out in front of him. Miles was stroking him, while Mikey had his husband's dick in his mouth.

The other dancers were still on their stages, but I did notice more than a few looks from the other Sinclair staff, including Lionel and Diego, in our direction. It looked like we were as much a draw as the dancers were for them.

Tiffany sucked Sol's cock for a few more minutes as the DJ moved on from trance to some Hip-Hop. I had leaned over and met Sol's mouth with my own, and we kissed while Tiffany worked his cock, before she swapped his for mine. Her mouth felt heavenly when it engulfed my cock, and I moaned into Sol's mouth.

I know a lot of guys who are bi who don't like kissing other men. I've never understood that. You're willing to suck a cock, maybe even get fucked, but no kissing? That's half the fun! Sol was a great kisser, and I enjoyed feeling his lips on mine, the stubble on his upper lip scratching me lightly, as my own was probably scratching him. He tasted like whiskey, and I let my tongue explore while Tiffany gave me as professional a blowjob as I had received in a while.

Tiffany stood up and I broke off my kiss with Sol. She turned around, and then lowered herself, not saying a word, straight onto his cock. Once she'd slid down the whole way, she turned to me and winked again and then took my cock in her hand and stroked it.

I looked over and saw that Miles was fucking Twan, who I saw was sporting one of the Sinclair Queen of Spades tattoos on his shoulder. Mikey was in front of Twan, sucking his cock, while his husband's dick was just inches away, sawing in and out of Twan's ass.

I turned my attention back to my own couch, where Sol had begun to fuck Tiffany slowly, moving his cock in and out of her pussy. She matched his pace with her hand on my cock. Miles and Mikey had swapped places, Mikey fucking Twan while Miles sucked him off, and I noticed that at least one of the other dancers was fucking one of the Sinclair staffers.

It wasn't long before all the dancers were down amongst our crew, and the sounds of an all-out orgy were competing with the DJ set, who kept spinning. The servers came by to refill drinks and take away empties while we had our fun with the dancers and each other.

I stood up and stepped in front of Tiffany, getting a nice handful of her breasts while she bounced on Sol, the pair of them enjoying their time on the Emerald's Italian leather sofa.

"I want to suck your cock while he fucks me," she said to me, loud enough to be heard over the sex and the music. I stroked my cock a few times to get it hard again and presented myself to her. She slowed her pace on Sol's cock, taking mine into her mouth. Tiffany was now airtight, my cock in her mouth, Sol's in her pussy, and I could tell from the moans that I could feel through my balls and shaft that she was her enjoying herself as much as we were -- or else she was a good enough actor I should introduce her to Nyla.

A few minutes of this and she pulled her mouth off my cock and began to shout she was coming, and I saw Sol focus again on fucking her. I took a step back, then decided to walk over to where Mike, Miles and Twan were playing.

Twan saw me coming and smiled. Mikey had blown his load at some point, leaving a streak of cum on Twan's chest, but Miles was still hard, and Twan was bouncing up and down on his cock. I was closer to the rest of the crew and got to see Diego fucking his Hispanic doppelganger, while the other two blonde dancers were kissing and scissoring each other, as Lionel and the other Sinclair staffers cheered them on.

Twan reached for my cock and soon had his mouth on it, licking my shaft and playing with my balls. I was overstimulated at this point, and Twan was an expert cocksucker. I felt his fingers teasing and caressing my nutsack, and then one of his fingers found its way to my anus. I was not a big fan of ass play, at least on me, but I was so horny that I just let it go, and soon his finger was worming its way inside me. For some reason, what normally turned me off had the opposite effect tonight and I could feel my cock stiffening as his finger wiggled inside my anus.

That was enough to push me over the edge, and I pulled my cock out of Twan's mouth, aiming for his face, which I blasted with my load. He grinned at me, sticking out his tongue, managing to get a taste, while the rest of my cum dripped off his cheek and chin, mingling with the remnants of Mikey's nut on his chest.

I looked over to see Sol standing over Tiffany, who had her tongue out, waiting for her own money shot, which she received promptly. Sol shot rope after rope of creamy jizz from his massive prick, coating her face and even getting into her hair.

I backed away and soon Twan had stood up and turned around, and Miles began to stroke his cock at the dancer's face. It wasn't long before he was rewarded with his third load of the night. Miles, Mikey and I had left Twan a cumsoaked mess -- and our three loads looked to have deposited about the same amount on him as Sol's single load had left on Tiffany. I just shook my head. Mom is a lucky woman, I thought, not for the first time.

I looked over to see Diego getting a face full of jizz from the Hispanic dancer, and I even noticed Jimmy over on one of the couches, his dick sliding into the blonde dancer with the perfect ass. I was glad to see we weren't the only ones who were getting our freak on.

By the end of the night, we were all spent. It was an amazing time, and one I didn't think any of us would forget, not the least of whom would be Mikey and Miles. They seemed to have had the best time out of all of us. Twan, Tiffany and the rest of the dancers had left the VIP area to get cleaned up, and the rest of us put our clothes back on, wiped down the sofas and had another round of drinks, while we enjoyed the music.

Soon the dancers were back, cleaned up, and clothed. They came by to chat and hang out with us for a while, which I thought was a nice touch.

"I hope you had a good time," Tiffany told Sol. "Congrats on the upcoming wedding!"

"We had a blast," Sol said. "You were amazing. How long have you been dancing here?"

"A few years now. I used to be a sex worker over at the Empire Luxe, but Darren made me a better offer and I've been here ever since. There's just something about this place..." she said, waving her arms to encompass the room and the rest of the club. The other dancers were laughing and chatting with our staff, and I saw Mikey had an arm around Twan, while Miles looked on with a grin on his face.

I had to agree with Tiffany. There was something about this place that was different - in a good way. It was just plain fun. There was a scintillating feeling of raw sex in the air that reminded me of the Elysium, but different. Not better or worse, just different.

I had noticed it, and I think Sol had noticed it, too. Which is probably why he did what he did next. Well, at least part of the reason why he did what he did next. Sol was never impulsive, unlike me. He was a planner. I was a seat-of-the-pantster.

"Lionel, can you ask Darren to come back here, if he's got a free minute?" Sol asked, as we bid goodnight to the strippers, male and female, who had given us such a memorable time. Tiffany and Twan waved back at me, and Twan winked. I grinned at them and turned to make my way over to where Sol was standing.

"Right away," Lionel said, and he disappeared into the back, behind one of the curtains that led to a set of stairs that I presumed led to the third floor and the owner's suite.

"So, what do you think about this place?" Sol asked me.

I was in a haze from the booze and the sex, still trying to order my thoughts. It took me a few seconds, but I finally pulled myself together. "This place is amazing, Sol. It's not the Elysium, but they have a solid product here and I can see why they're the best in the city," I told him. "And some of the dancers are as good as the folks we have back home."

"I agree," he said to me. That was all he said.

I raised my eyebrows, but he didn't elaborate. Diego came over and put his arm around me. "I think we need to come back here more often, boss," he said, a goofy grin on his face.

"You're telling me, bro," I said, smiling. "I can't wait to bring Avery and Eva here."

Lionel returned a few minutes later with Darren Chamberlain, the owner.

"So, Mr. Sinclair, what do you think of my little club?" He asked. He took in our disheveled clothes, the dried cum on Diego's cheek, and the overall look of satisfaction on our faces and grinned broadly. He knew we'd had a good time, which made me think his question just might have been rhetorical.

"You've got a great place here, Darren," Sol told him. "So great, I want to buy it."

Darren laughed at him. Sol kept a straight face. Darren's laugh started to fade as he realized this wasn't a joke.

"Wait, you're serious?"

"As serious as I can be," Sol said. "You've got a great place, your staff are excellent, and we had a great time. I don't think I realized, given how liberal the sex laws in Las Vegas are, that there's still a market for stripping and the performance aspect that you all do here so well. But clearly there is, and I think this place would make a fine addition to the Sinclair Group," he added. "What's your price?"

Darren swallowed. "I, well... I've never thought about it. This place has been my life for the last twenty years," he said. "I mean, I've daydreamed about what I would do when it was all over, but I never thought..."

"Do you have a number in mind?" Sol asked again, looking at Chamberlain with a piercing stare. It was his best business gaze, one I'd seen a few times over the last six months. It was hard to last very long when Sol Sinclair's smoldering brown eyes were staring at you, that handsome face and bald dome, his strong body and perfectly tailored clothes exuding raw authority and sensuality.

"Well, not really... what do you think the place is worth?" Darren countered. I knew what he was doing. This was a basic business negotiation technique -- never be the first one to put a number on the table.

Sol leaned in and whispered something in Darren's ear. I don't know what he said, but Chamberlain's eyes went wide. He looked stunned for a few seconds, but then I saw them narrow.

"I don't think I could sell for that much, Mr. Sinclair. I've put my whole life into this place--"

"Add 50%," Sol said.

"--sold." Darren said, as a big grin spread across his face. "This is for real, right? You're not just pulling my prick?" Sol shook his head, still deadly serious. Then the two shook hands.

"I'll have our lawyers contact you in the morning to work out the details. Congrats on your retirement," Sol said, finally allowing a tight smile to creep onto his face, but not until they'd sealed the deal with the gentleman's handshake.

"Thank you! You don't know what this means to me, Mr. Sinclair. I love this business, but there are so many things I've wanted to do, and not being chained to the club is life-changing for me. I can't thank you enough," he said, his effusiveness convincing me wholly of his sincerity.

Sol smiled and nodded, shook his hand again, and after a few more minutes of Darren Chamberlain's delight, we piled back into the Escalades for our trip back to the Elysium.

Lionel was driving, with Sol, Miles, Mikey and me in the back. Diego, Jimmy and the rest of the Sinclair crew were in the other SUV.

"I can't believe you just did that," I said to Sol. He smiled back at me.

"Rather impetuous of me, was it not?" Sol asked, raising an eyebrow. "Now, Jack, does that sound anything like me? Just randomly whipping out my wallet and slapping some money on the table?"

I looked at him and blinked. Then I started to smile. That sneaky son of a bitch. He was always going to buy this place. The bachelor party was just an excuse to kick the tires and make the deal. "You were going to buy the place anyway, weren't you?"

"Yes," Sol said. "I'd done my homework. We have the sex hotel, we have the porn studio now. There are only a handful of other sex related industries that we haven't dipped our toes into. Sex toys is one -- although Nyla is working on that -- and clothing is another. Strip clubs were the last. If Sinclair Group is going to continue to be successful, we've got to continue to expand, and we can't just build more hotels, because the rest of the country isn't ready for a place like the Elysium, and I don't think we could do it overseas, either. Emerald will be another solid addition to the brand, like Elysium Productions, and like the Oasis and the other former Chesterfield properties. Plus, it's an area that Vex Romano and the other casinos owners couldn't care less about. Emerald is part of the company's future."

"But how did you know the value?" I asked him. Miles and Mikey had been teasing and kissing each other lightly in the back seat, still turned on from the club, but now they were both paying attention to my conversation with Sol.

"I had our economics team -- along with Chris Stoneman and Tiana Deveraux and their security team - do a deep dive into Emerald's data. I know exactly what their capital position is, their income, their profits and losses, everything down to the penny. The team gave me three numbers -- a low-ball offer number, a mid-grade number, and an 'offer he can't refuse' number. All of them would net us out positive, in terms of the investment, so it would come down to my skill as a negotiator as to what we'd pay."

"So which one did you give him?"

"I gave him the low-ball. I could tell right away he was ready to do something else. Even after adding 50% to it, I was still way below the 'offer he can't refuse' number. I was pleasantly surprised he took it so quickly. Clearly, he's been itching to get out of the business," Sol told me.

I sat back in the leather seat of the Escalade and just smiled. Not only had Sol bought Emerald tonight, he'd gotten it for basically a steal. It was impressive, and I hoped someday I'd have the chops to be able to do what Sol did so easily tonight.

Then I realized there was one problem. Darren Chamberlain was the force behind the club. He was the owner and the manager, handled the bookings and recruitment, and all the day-to-day. He was clearly out -- Sol had congratulated him on his retirement, after all. So, who was going to run the club? My stomach started to sink. I sure hope he didn't want me to. I was going to have my hands full with the Oasis. I couldn't take on anything else right now.

Sol beat me to the punch.

"Miles and Michael, how did you like the club?" He asked them.

"That was the best time I've had in a long time, Sol," Mikey told him. "That place is just a ton of fun. The only thing I think would have been better was if Miles was the DJ," he said, laughing. Miles grinned at his husband.

"Good," Sol told them. "I'm glad you liked it. Because you're going to be running the place for me," he said.

Miles and Mikey looked shocked. "Dad, what?" Miles said, a bit of incredulity leaking into his voice.

"I need someone to run the place. Someone who has experience booking talent. And you're going to need someone who can handle the financial side, running the books, and then, eventually, expanding. I foresee Emerald Clubs in cities around the country. But I need you to prove to me that this model works, and you guys are capable of running things before we expand. I can't think of anybody who would be better at it than you to," Sol said. "So what do you say? Miles, you can't be a DJ at Vespers forever," Sol said, alluding to Miles' side gig at the nightclub in the Elysium.

Mikey looked eager, but Miles was not an impetuous person, as I well knew, just like his father. About the only time I'd ever seen him being impetuous was the first time he and I hooked up, oh those many months ago. Even then, though, I got the feeling he'd planned the whole thing out with Mom.

I could see the wheels turning in Miles' head. "Dad, thanks for the offer and for thinking of us. I'm intrigued, and I can tell Mikey is too, but can you give us a couple of days to think about it?"

Sol nodded sagely. "That's exactly what Jack here asked when I offered him the Oasis. Take your time. But please get me an answer sooner rather than later, because once the deal is done, somebody's going to have to take over the club, okay?"

We rode back together to the Elysium in relative silence. Miles and Michael were whispering back and forth for the rest of the drive. Lionel just drove, stony silent as usual, and I sat back, watching the lights of the Strip pass, thinking.

Miles and Mikey running Emerald. Nyla running Elysium Productions. Me, Eva and Avery running the Oasis. It seemed like Sol had a plan for us all. I sure hoped he knew what he was doing. Nyla had proven herself with EP, winning all those awards last month. Miles had a proven track record with Vespers, and Mikey had been the head finance guy for the largest entertainment company in Las Vegas. He could handle one strip club's finances.

And then there was me. I hadn't run anything. I was a snot-nosed kid. I was apparently good at getting shot and poisoned. I knew I was pretty good at fucking, including on camera, but what that had to do with running a corporation was beyond me. I was lucky, though, which I knew made up for a lot of things. I had a good education, but those were just paper smarts. Avery was one of the best at what she did -- reporting -- but as a PR person she'd be brand new. Only Eva had a proven track record, alongside her brother, and I knew she could handle being Oasis Resort's CFO. I wish I had as much faith in myself as Sol seemed to have in me. The last six months of my life had been one big pile of uncertainty.

One thing I knew for certain, though. And that was that I couldn't wait for next weekend, when Sol and Mom would finally tie the knot. From that point on, I would officially be a part of this family. And then, after that? That's when I had to prove that I had what it takes to be a player in this town, and to justify the faith Sol Sinclair had in me.

Next week, my life in the Oasis would begin in earnest.