Life in the Oasis Ch. 02

Author's Note

This is the next chapter in the final series of 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 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!

If you are interested in something a bit different, head on over to the Lesbian Sex category, where my newest novella, Crossing the Line, was published recently as part of the 2025 On the Job Challenge. I hope you'll take a look at it as well, even if it's a bit different from my usual stories.

As always, if you like what you've read, give us a vote, leave a comment, and a follow. I do my best to respond to every comment! Thanks for reading!

------------------------------

Sunday Morning, May 30, 2032

The Elysium, Las Vegas

It was nearly two in the morning when I got back to the Elysium from the nightclub. Sol, Miles, Mikey, and I went our separate ways after we got back to the Hotel. Sol to his room, Miles and Mikey to theirs, and I paused briefly to admire the lesbian threesome statue of Nyla's entourage in the Penthouse lobby. There was a new plinth set up, and I wondered what Nyla was crafting to fill it.

I did my best to sneak into my apartments, but it was to no avail. Avery and Eva were waiting up for me.

"Tell us everything!" Eva said, bounding over to me as I shut the door gently. The apartments' lights were low, and they had been watching a movie on the TV. I could see the lights on in Mom and Sol's apartments across the way.

Avery was lounging on the couch, a glass of wine in her hand, looking at me cooly from across the room.

"Not much to tell. It was a bachelor party at a strip club. We saw naked people. Then Sol bought the club," I added, trying to be as matter-of-fact as I could.

"What?!" Avery said, sitting up straight on the couch. "Now you've got to tell us what happened!"

I laughed and went to the bar, pouring myself a nightcap of Buffalo Trace. Eva took my hand, and I escorted her over to the circular couch in the center of the room, facing the TV and the windows, and sat down, with Eva on my left, and Avery across from me.

I was a lucky guy. I had not one, but two smart, beautiful, and amazingly sexy girlfriends. We'd only been together as a trio for a few months now, but they had been some of the best months of my life.

I took a sip of my bourbon and proceeded to give them all the gory details about Sol's bachelor party. I left nothing out.

One of the bedrock rules of our relationship was no secrets. If we were going to make this thing work, and relationships between two people are already tough, let alone three, we had to trust each other. That trust had to be the bedrock on which we built our lives together. I was young, I knew that, but I wasn't stupid. Given the fact that our relationship was open -- all three of us could fuck anybody else we wanted to -- we had to be even more open with each other than we otherwise would have been.

I didn't have a problem with that. And I knew Avery didn't, either. Both of us were highly visual people, and watching others have sex was a huge turn-on. I wasn't sure how visual Eva was. So far, she'd not had any outside sexual partners outside of the big orgy we had with the Royal Family last April. But she certainly enjoyed her time with us, including watching Avery and me together, so if I had to guess, I say she had a bit of voyeur bug, too.

"Oh man," Avery said, and I could see her surreptitiously start to rub near her crotch. "That is so hot, Jack," she cooed. "I wish I could have been there to watch it. You know I love watching you with other men," she added.

"I wish I could have seen Sol with that Tiffany stripper!" Eva said, laughing. "It's been months, and I've heard all kinds of stories about Sol's cock, but I have yet to see it in person," she said, making a little pout with her mouth and then laughing it off.

"Babe, if you want to see Sol's cock, I'm pretty sure all you need to do is ask him," Avery said, smirking at Eva. "I'm sure he'd be willing to show it to you... and maybe more," she winked.

Eva sat wide-eyed for a second, and then laughed again, nervously. "Really?"

"Really," I told her. "And you've got a week to do it before he's officially my step-father and it gets a little weird."

She punched me in the arm. "When have family ties ever stopped you, Mr. Mom-Gave-Me-A-Blowie-And-It-Ended-Up-In-The-Papers?"

"Touché," I said, laughing. "That was Avery's fault, you know."

Avery rolled her eyes. "If you and your mother could have kept it in your pants, I wouldn't have had a story, now would I?"

"If my mother and I could have kept it in our pants, you and I probably would never have met," I retorted. "So... hey, I think this worked out for the best."

"True," Avery said, cocking her head. "The bigger question is, are you all tired from your games at the Emerald Club, or do you have any energy left for your girlfriends?" She bit her lip.

I felt Eva's hand rubbing my leg, and I turned to look at her. She was biting her lip, too.

"How can I say no to you two?" I said, feeling a stirring in my loins.

I stood up, and took Eva by the hand, leaving my bourbon glass on the coffee table. I reached out with my other hand and took Avery's, and I let them pull me towards the door to the bedroom.

And then we fucked.

What? We did.

Stop groaning! I can hear you!

Oh, right. You want the DETAILS. Fine. I guess I have to keep you guys interested somehow. I mean, I tend to think this story is pretty fucking fascinating even without the fucking, but I know the sex is what keeps you coming. And cumming, I hope.

Okay, where was I? Right. We were in the bedroom.

I was pretty tired after spending all night at the strip club, but if there is any natural Viagra in this world, it's seeing two amazingly hot women making out directly in front of you and knowing you're going to get to fuck each of them.

No sooner had I closed the bedroom door than I turned to find Eva and Avery locked in a naked embrace. Their clothes were pooled in two piles on the floor directly below them, and I stared openly as they kissed and fondled each other, as if I wasn't even there.

I watched briefly before they broke apart, each turning to me, and taking a step forward.

"Let's get you out of these clothes, Jack," Avery said. "As much as it would be fun fucking you in that suit, I'd rather see you naked," she purred.

Eva nodded along. She took care of my pants, while Avery took my jacket and shirt off. Once I had been stripped, they threw my clothes over onto the cuck chair beside the bed and took a step back, admiring the view.

I stood in front of them, naked as the day I was born. I'd grown considerably since then, however, and I was taller than each of the girls, although with Avery it was a close-run thing. She was very tall for a woman, and I was only about half a hand taller than she was. I towered over Eva, though, as I did most people.

I ran a hand through my dirty blonde hair, and I realized it was shaggier than I liked, and I made a mental note to visit the barber in the hotel this afternoon. I had most of Sunday to myself, as I knew the girls would want plenty of time to get ready for Mom's bachelorette party tonight. I figured I could make a day of it, taking care of all of my grooming, getting a good workout in and maybe some time down on the gun range in the subbasement.

I needed the workout, because my primary form of exercise since I graduated was sex, and while that was good for cardio, it wasn't good for my muscle tone. My broad chest, sculpted pecs and flat stomach were not going to stay that way if I didn't get my ass to the gym. I recalled with wistfulness the days of my six-pack abs, but they had started to fade as soon as I stopped working out daily after getting kicked off the baseball team last January. I made another mental note to fix that, if I could, once I got a routine set over at the Oasis.

Make no mistake -- I still looked good. Damn good, in my opinion. I mean, I'd fuck me. But the Jack Fisher that had won awards as a porn star was a different Jack Fisher than the girls were looking at right now. I hope that didn't bother them. I realized it was starting to bother me.

One thing hadn't changed though, and that was my cock. Besides my mouth and my brain, my cock was one the part of me that saw almost daily use, and I was still proud of it. I wasn't the biggest guy on the planet, nor was I as big as some of the porn stars and sex workers here in the Elysium, and I certainly wasn't as big as Sol Sinclair, but I was well above average, and I would humbly assert that I knew how to use it.

And I was going to use it on my girlfriends. Both of them. Right now.

Eva licked her lips, and Avery giggled at me, as the pair watched and waited to see what I was going to do. I took my cock in my right hand and began to tug on it, willing it to rise. This elicited another pair of giggles from the girls. I looked over their naked bodies, looked at them holding hands, and waiting on me, and it wasn't long before I could feel my shaft stiffening.

"Oh, Jack. Is that for us?" Eva said, biting the tip of her pinky finger, trying to look cute and innocent.

"You bet your ass it is," I said.

"Let's stick with betting our pussies for tonight," Avery teased. "It's going to be a long night for us, and I, for one, would like to be able to sit down at least some of it," she joked.

Eva laughed, and I cracked a smile.

The girls climbed up onto the bed, and I walked, cock in hand, over to them. The pair spread their legs, and Avery threw her left leg over Eva's right. I stood before them, and watched as they began to kiss again, and then Avery began to play with Eva's pussy. Eva returned the favor, and soon they were making out, arms and legs crossed over, getting themselves ready for me.

I appreciated the show, as it gave me a chance to get even harder, and I could feel the precum leaking from my cockhead onto my hand as I watched my two ladies rubbing each other's pussies.

"Hmm. Which one of you do I want to fuck first..." I said. "Decisions, decisions."

"Fuck Eva first," Avery said quickly.

"Yeah, fuck me first!" Eva said, agreeing with Avery.

Avery was always looking out for Eva, and invariably she would defer to Eva when it came to who got to go first. I asked her about it once, and she just laughed and told me that Eva had a few months of time to make up.

I wasn't complaining.

I climbed up on the bed, crawled in between Eva's legs and lined my cock up with the entrance to her sex. Avery rolled onto her side, allowing me full access to Eva's body, and cuddled up next to her, gently stroking her stomach, sliding her fingers up to Eva's breasts, and then tweaking her nipples.

Eva groaned. The groan turned into a moan as my cock head entered her pussy, and I slowly worked my shaft deep into her. Avery leaned in, kissing Eva's neck and nuzzling her ear, as my cock buried itself in Eva. I relished the feeling of warmth, the heat and wetness of her pussy engulfing my cock, and I paused for a moment to let the feeling sink in.

"Oh God, Jack, just fuck me!" Eva breathed, eyes staring up into mine. "I need your cock!"

Her wish was my command, and I slowly withdrew my entire length, almost removing the tip from her, but then slamming it home hard. She squealed, and I grunted, and I began to pump my cock into her at a steady pace.

"I will never get bored watching you fuck Jack, babe," Avery whispered into Eva's ear, just loudly enough that I could hear it over the sounds of our lovemaking.

Eva bit her lip and then turned and kissed Avery hard. Avery returned the kiss, grabbing a handful of one of Eva's boobs, and squeezing it. I kept up my pace, pumping my cock into her.

The two of them made out -- at least, they tried to. Have you ever tried to kiss someone while somebody else is fucking you? It's not that easy, let me tell you. If you're not careful, you'll get a busted lip or worse. I did my best not to jostle Eva too much, but I also wanted to make sure she was enjoying my cock inside her, and I knew she liked to be pounded.

We kept this up for a few minutes, with Avery kissing, groping and fondling Eva as we fucked. She reached down a few times and rubbed Eva's clit, eliciting squeals of pleasure from her girlfriend, which translated into Eva squeezing my cock with her vaginal muscles, which I also appreciated.

"Okay, babe, my turn," Avery said to her. Eva pouted a little, but knew she'd had a good amount of time with me, and Avery wanted her share. I withdrew my cock from Eva's pussy and waited as the girls swapped positions.

Eva decided not to cuddle with Avery, and instead straddled her face, turning her back to me so that Avery could lick her clit while we fucked. My cock, already wet from Eva, slid into Avery with no resistance at all. Avery moaned loudly, and I knew the only thing that was keeping her from releasing a torrent of dirty talk -- a habit she'd learned from my mother, of all people -- was the fact that her mouth was buried in Eva's cleft, her tongue snaking out to tickle Eva's clit.

I grabbed two handfuls of Avery's beautiful breasts, feeling her hard nipples under my palms, and I proceeded to fuck her like I'd not seen her in a week. I could hear her moaning into Eva's pussy as the sounds of sex filled the bedroom.

Eva began to shriek, and I could tell from the pitch and the volume that she was either close to an orgasm or in the throes of one. After a few shrieks, she launched herself off of Avery, ending up in the fetal position above Avery's head, hugging her knees to herself and giggling.

I leaned in and kissed Avery, my cock still pumping in and out of her. I could taste Eva's pussy on her lips, and it turned me on even more. Eva was still in a tight ball above us, watching as we continued to fuck.

I wasn't going to last very long, even though I'd already cum once earlier at the strip club. The girls were just too hot, and the sex with them was just too good. I could feel my orgasm beginning to rise in my balls, and I started fucking Avery faster.

"Cum for me, Jack," she said, her mouth free for dirty talk now that Eva had cum. "Dump your load right inside me! I need to feel you cumming. And then I want Eva to lick your jizz out of me," she added. "I want to see her face covered with your cream as it leaks out of my pussy!"

That was enough to put me over the edge, and I felt my cock pulse a half dozen times as I filled her pussy up with my seed. I kept pumping a few more times, feeling her muscles milking me before I pulled out and fell to the side of her, panting, completely spent.

Eva, on cue, got up and crawled across the bed, hopping between Avery's knees and burying her face in Avery's snatch. I looked down to see her tongue probing inside Avery's pussy, searching for the cream I'd left there, and soon finding it. I could see the telltale white on her tongue, and soon that tongue was coated in my cream. Instead of swallowing it, she kept it on the end of her tongue and then shifted position slightly and began licking and sucking on Avery's clit.

Avery grunted and reached down with both hands to hold onto Eva's head while Eva did her best to bring Avery to a mind-blowing orgasm. She knew exactly what Avery liked, and it didn't take long before I could feel Avery tensing up beside me, her breath coming raggedly, and her fingers clutching and unclutching Eva's hair.

"Oh my God, I'm cumming!" Avery shouted, and I could see her hands clenching tightly on Eva's head, as her legs began to tremble. This lasted a few seconds and then she was pushing Eva's head away, her clit too sensitive for any more attention, as she rode the wave of her orgasm.

Eva climbed up beside Avery on her other side, and soon the three of us were cuddled up together. I was totally spent, and I felt myself nodding off after a few minutes.

Avery finally forced all three of us up and out of the bed, and she went to the bathroom to clean herself up. Eva and I climbed under the covers, and Avery joined us shortly thereafter.

The three of us fell asleep in each other's arms, sated.

What a lovely start to another lazy Sunday, I thought, as sleep crept up on me.

* * *

Sunday Afternoon, May 30, 2032

Wiley Residence, West Las Vegas

"I don't like this," Elijah said for the third time. "Nobody is going to pay money for this, Curtis," he told him.

"Relax, Boog," Red Dog told his younger brother. "Trust me, we're gonna make bank."

It hadn't been twenty-four hours since Red Dog found out about his brother's cock. He couldn't stop thinking about it, to be honest. The fact that his younger brother, the boy he'd lived with for so long, could be packing that much meat was simply astonishing to him. It was like waking up one day and finding out that your grandmother was Cindy Crawford, and you'd never noticed it because hey -- it's granny.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" Elijah was nervous, a bit excited, but largely just annoyed. He was sitting in his bedroom with his shirt off, his pants around his ankles, in his boxer shorts. His brother sat across from him with a handheld stabilizer mount for his iPhone. The room was lit with a variety of random lamps they'd found around the house, the shades removed.

"Because you need a damn street name," Red Dog said impatiently. "You're eighteen years old! Nobody wants to be calling you Elijah all the damn time. So now you're Boog," he explained, as if he were talking to a child.

"But why Boog?"

"Boog? Boogie Nights? Dirk Diggler? You know... that movie about the white kid with the big dick?"

"Why can't you just call me Eli, if you want something shorter?" Elijah pleaded. He'd never heard of that movie.

Red Dog looked at his brother sadly and just shook his head. "You don't use your real name for shit like this, yo. Come on, man. You gotta think."

"Plenty of people use their real names these days, Curtis," Elijah retorted. "Nobody cares about porn anymore. It's respectable now."

"We ain't Reyn or Elysium Productions, man. We doin' this on the cheap to make some quick money. And since you don't want me showing your face or nothing, it don't make an ounce of sense for you to use your real name," Red Dog told him, looking at him like he was brain dead. "Let me handle this, ok? Stop thinking and start jerking," he ordered.

It had been Red Dog's idea. Set up one of those fan-based profiles on social media, throw up a bunch of videos of his brother and his absurdly large cock, and wait for the money to roll in. He knew there was a market for this -- the jerk-off cam sites got tons of hits, and there were plenty of people making bank off this kind of thing these days.

"Okay, I'm gonna start rolling. You whip that hog out and start jacking off, and I'll film it. Then we post the thing and wait for the simps to start simping," Red Dog said. "Okay, it's on now."

The little red light built into the iPhone stabilizer turned on.

"You sure nobody can see my face?" Elijah asked. His brother waved at him frantically, pointing to the camera to remind him that the camera was rolling. Elijah just rolled his eyes.

Slowly, reluctantly, he fished his cock out of his pants. He'd spent most of last night on the internet, searching. He'd watched more porn in the last day than he had in his entire life up to that point combined. He'd seen things he didn't know existed. Elijah never considered himself someone who was sheltered, but he'd never been obsessed with sex the way some of his friends had been. He was more concerned with getting good grades and trying to make something of himself, to get into a good college and be able to take care of his mother, maybe even his father someday, if he ever got paroled.

He didn't worry about Red Dog -- Curtis had been taking care of himself for years now.

Elijah began to slowly stroke his cock, feeling his body respond to his actions. He looked up at his brother, who just licked his lips and then smiled, making a 'keep going' motion with his hand.

The memory of those videos was fresh in his mind, and he felt his cock begin to rise, and with each stroke he got fuller and fuller, harder and harder, until soon he was fully erect. Elijah had never had a problem getting it up, even with a cock as large as his. All he needed to do was think about sex, and he felt his cock begin to harden.

That may have been why he refrained from thinking about it so much -- having a hair trigger on a cock this big had led to some embarrassment when he was younger, and the result was Elijah had tended to shy away from anything sexual.

He closed his eyes and thought back to yesterday, his aborted assignation with Bunny the sex worker. He knew he should be proud of how well-endowed he was -- that other men would have bragged about it, but so far, his one sexual experience had been negative, and that was all because of how big he was.

The only person who seemed happy about the fact that Elijah was hung like a horse was his brother.

Red Dog watched hungrily as his brother stroked his cock for the camera. Ever since the day he'd overheard the two queers next door to the room he'd been jerking off in at that seedy by-the-hour motel down from the Bloods' headquarters, he had been thinking about cock. Obsessed with it, if he had to be honest.

Did that make him gay? He didn't know anymore. He knew he still liked women, and he had no problem performing last night with Bunny, who was hot and a great fuck -- had taken it in all three holes and didn't even charge him extra -- but there was something about cocks that had wormed its way into Red Dog's head. Then to find that his brother sported the biggest cock he'd ever seen... it was mind blowing. Red Dog felt his own dick starting to rise.

This was his brother, though, and that thought made him hesitate. He knew sex with siblings wasn't as big a deal as it used to be -- hell, when it came to gay sex, it wasn't even really illegal, as the incest laws were all targeted at male/female relationships -- but it still weirded him out. His mind drifted to the drama from a few months back, when that casino owner and her kid had gotten busted by the local paper for getting busy with each other. That had barely made a ripple in town -- in fact, people seemed to think what the paper had done outing the pair was more wrong than what they'd been doing. Maybe it wouldn't be that weird if Red Dog and his brother...

Red Dog shook his head angrily, trying to stop his mind from going where it was naturally going. Fortunately, Elijah was lost in his own world, stroking his cock with his eyes closed, his mouth tight, rubbing one hand up and down his chest, the other milking that horse dick. Red Dog noticed a tiny drop of pre-cum forming on the tip of Elijah's cock, and he zoomed in on it with the camera, then zoomed back to take in the whole image.

He did what he promised, keeping Elijah's face out of the frame, letting him work his cock at his own rhythm and pace, focusing on what he expected the audience would want to see -- his brother's big black cock.

Red Dog nudged his own crotch, which was semi-rigid, sending a brief feeling of pleasure through his cockhead as it ground against the rough material of his jeans. He wasn't wearing underwear -- hadn't for years -- and the feeling of going commando with a chub while watching his brother jack off had made him hornier than he'd been in a while.

He'd have to check out his Onyxed account that night -- hopefully some random white bitch and her cuck husband were looking for a good time, because he was horny as hell, and getting paid for sex sure beat paying for it. He could always call one of the Bloods' little sisters, but he wasn't that hard up.

Elijah moaned, picking up the pace of his stroking, and Red Dog assumed his brother was about to cum. He zoomed the camera back out, getting as much of Elijah's body in as he could, his hand a blur as it beat up and down on his cock.

Elijah grunted once, then twice, and a geyser of cum erupted from the end of his penis, spurting across the room. A splash landed on the lens of the iPhone, obscuring the view briefly. Some of it even splashed onto Red Dog, who couldn't move out of the way without ruining the shot, instead taking a wad of cum on the bottom of his shirt. His brother kept pumping, eyes squeezed shut, as he made an absolute mess of his boxers and the floor in front of him. After he finished squeezing the last bit of cream from his cock, Elijah sighed, breathing heavily for a few seconds as he came down off the high of his orgasm. After a few more seconds had passed, he opened his eyes and saw the mess he made.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry," he said, standing up and reaching for his brother. "Are you still filming?"

"Naw, naw, it's cool, bro," Red Dog said, laughing. "One of the risks a man has to take when his little brother is a fucking sex savant," he added. "I shut the film off as soon as you were done," he added. "This is fucking gold, dude. I can't wait to see what folks say when they see this video, Boog."

Elijah frowned at the nickname again but said nothing. He stood up and grabbed a wad of tissues from the box on his nightstand and began to clean himself up as best he could. Red Dog did the same thing, grabbing one to clean off the camera. Oddly, he left the cum on his shirt alone. "You really think this is going to sell, Curtis?"

"Dawg, people pay good money to watch guys with half as much dick as you strokin' off. It'll sell," he assured his little brother.

Red Dog left Elijah in his bedroom, heading across the hall to his own room, where he edited the video to cut out the beginning where Elijah asked if he was filming, and then he got it uploaded to the fans site.

Now all they could do was wait and see who decided to throw money at them. Red Dog smiled as he watched the video, his hand moving to the cumstain on his shirt. He idly swiped his finger across it and then raised the finger to his mouth. Before he realized what he was doing, he could taste the tang of his brother's jizz on his tongue, the ammonia smell in his nostrils.

"Oh shit," he said, dropping his hand instantly and wiping it on his pants.

What the fuck was he doing?

He shook his head angrily. As soon as the video was uploaded, he opened the Onxyed app on his phone and started scrolling through his messages. He found a couple who were in Vegas for the week and wanted to meet up. He sent them a message back, with a dick pic and his rates, and then closed the app. Hopefully the couple got back to him soon, because he needed to fuck like nobody's business.

After a few seconds, he opened the Onyxed app again and looked at the message he just sent. He thought for a few moments and then sent another message.

"Yo, if you want, I can bring my little brother -- he's even bigger than me. I'll give you a deal for the both of us."

He hit send. He had no idea if this couple was interested in two guys or what, but Red Dog knew his brother needed some seasoning if he was ever going to get him to do real porn -- where the real money was. Stroke-off vids for a fans site were one thing, but he had long-term plans for his brother, and they needed to start somewhere.

Red Dog smiled to himself. If he played this right, he was sitting on a literal money-printing machine. But he knew he had his work cut out for him. Elijah was a sheltered nerdy kid. Turning him into the next Jason Noir was not going to be easy.

A few minutes later, his phone dinged. The couple was interested.

Maybe not easy, but it sure was going to be fun.

* * *

Monday Afternoon, July 11, 1983

The Oasis, Las Vegas

Winston Chesterfield did not want to be at this meeting.

One of the small breakout rooms on the Oasis's convention center level had been converted into a meeting room, with large tables set in a hollow square configuration. Large, leather chairs had been assembled, three to a table, with rows of additional seating lined up against the walls for staff and guests. Two of Chesterfield's burliest security guards stood by the door, keeping an eye on the room, as still as the furniture.

Each place at the table had a notepad with the Oasis logo on the top -- a sun, a palm tree, and an image of the hotel -- with a pencil and a small glass. Carafes filled with the hotel's finest tap water were apportioned for each table, and tiny dishes with equally tiny mints sat next to each.

Winston tapped his foot impatiently as the room began to fill. There were enough leather chairs for the dozen or so members of the Board of Directors. He was standing behind his chair, surveying the room as they entered.

Three years ago, the Nevada Association of Resorts and Casinos had been founded, in this very hotel. Its mission statement was "to promote tourism in Nevada and provide a venue for the discussion of business, best practices and other subjects designed to help boost the resort and casino business in this great state."

Nobody was winning a Nobel prize for literature for the NARC mission statement.

It was all bullshit, anyway. NARC was designed for one thing and one thing only -- to keep the various Las Vegas casino moguls and their Mob backers from killing each other. Literally. It was a mini--United Nations, of sorts, with each of the big players having a seat at the table. Here was where they talked and schemed, where they plotted, where they hashed out their differences to keep the bodies dumped in the Nevada desert to a minimum. It might be the 80s, but this town was still a Mob town, no matter how much the moguls wished it weren't. NARC was all about protecting the status quo.

Not that it had stopped the bodies from piling up. The FBI had been cracking down on organized crime across America, making life much harder for the crime families who still had their hooks in Sin City, but so far the Feds had left Las Vegas alone. The result was that it was business as usual, and business as usual included fraud, graft, money laundering, narcotics trafficking, and the occasional misdemeanor murder.

"Winnie! Good to see you, my boy!" said a tall, skinny, goateed, cowboy-looking fellow, in dirty blue jeans, white shirt open at the collar, blue blazer, and a cream-colored Stetson hat. He ambled into the room and stuck out his hand good-naturedly to Winston.

"Always good to be seen, Slim," Winston said, as he groaned internally, but outwardly showed every sign of being pleased to see his fellow casino owner. Slim Wynnman was one of the old school, the owner of Slim's Starlight, among a few other off-Strip properties. He was backed by the Chicago Outfit, which had been active in Vegas for years. Tony "The Ant" Spilotro was their juice guy, and he had been leaving a trail of bodies behind him for years.

"How long is the dog and pony show before we get down to real business?" he asked, confidentially. Winston leaned in close.

"Half an hour. Then we'll kick everybody out and hold the real meeting," he said. Winston slapped Slim on the arm and directed him over to the tables filled with pastries and coffee. "Get something to eat, and we'll talk in a bit."

Winston looked at his watch. He had to be here, but he wanted to be downtown, at the hospital. His daughter Sheba had gone into labor last night, and he wanted to be there when the child was born. Sheba's mother -- his old favorite cocktail waitress and mistress, Thumper -- had died years earlier from lung cancer, and Sheba had no other family in the world except Winnie.

Winnie had never acknowledged her, and his wife and other children back in Virginia had no idea she existed. But, to him, she was his eldest daughter, and he hated that he couldn't be more obvious about their relationship. He knew it was for the best -- ever since it was made clear to him more than a decade and a half ago that the Genovese knew about her, he'd been dreading the day they'd use her against him. But that hadn't kept him from keeping an eye on her, secretly sending money to her foster parents, and even being there in the back of the room when she married her husband, David. She knew him as "Uncle Winnie," her mom's old boss, and nothing more. If she ever wondered why he was always around for major life events, she'd never asked.

The room was slowly reaching capacity. Staff for the casino moguls had begun to crowd the pastry table, and some of the other owners had found their way in. Vegas was starting to go corporate, and for every old-school casino exec like Winnie and Slim Wynnman, there was a corporate shill there on behalf of a big conglomerate. Men like Frank Boyd.

"Why do we have to play for the cameras before the actual meeting, Winnie?" Boyd said gruffly as he sidled up next to Chesterfield. "It's a waste of my fucking time."

"All part of the game, Frank," Winnie said, sighing. Winston silently agreed with Boyd, who represented a holding company that was the new owner of the Crescent Club, one of Vegas's newer resorts. But Winnie also understood politics. Frank never had. He'd known Frank for close to twenty years now -- Frank had come to town to try his hand at the gambling business and had risen quite high, but never quite high enough to own his own place -- likely because he'd never figured out the politics side of the business. The press might be here, as this was one of their larger monthly meetings, even if the public agenda was fairly innocuous. "You know this as well as I do."

"Try explaining that to my bosses," Frank grumbled. "They know about as much about the casino business as I do about rocket science," he said. "Actually, they just bought a rocket manufacturer," he noted as an aside.

"There are times when I wonder how you keep all the companies you guys own straight," Winston said, shaking his head.

"I don't," Frank laughed. "That's the kid's job."

"The kid?" Winston said, looking around.

Frank jerked a thumb over his shoulder to a very young-looking man in a dark suit and dark tie, holding a briefcase, and standing behind one of the high-backed leather chairs, which he seemed to be reserving for Boyd.

"One of the owners' kids. Twenty-year-old prodigy, just graduated from Yale, here to tell me how I'm fucking everything up and should be making more money. He's not a bad guy, though," Boyd said. "For a fucking rat."

Winston looked the kid over. He was tall, with a narrow face, a square jaw, and slicked-back dark hair. He was a good-looking kid, but he looked entirely too serious for a man barely out of his teens.

Winston crossed over and introduced himself. "I'm Winston Chesterfield," he said, reaching out a hand. "Frank Boyd and I go back a ways," he added, nodding to Boyd, who had followed him.

"Victor Romano," the kid said. "Frank Boyd and I do not go back a ways," he said, without a trace of humor.

Winston laughed. "I like you, kid," he said. "We could use a little levity in these meetings."

Winston turned and noticed that most of the members had finally arrived and had started taking their seats around the table. And as they did so, he noticed a short, round, balding man with thick glasses step into the room.

"Fucking great," he said, under his breath.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," Romano said, looking at Winnie intensely.

"Nothing. Nice to meet you Vic," Winston said absently, turning away and striding purposefully over to the room's entrance.

"Victor," Romano said to Winston's back.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Winnie said gruffly as he stomped over to the new addition to the room. "Why didn't you send one of your cub reporters?" Winston had expected the press, but he hadn't expected someone this senior to show up. It would be like Tom Brokaw covering a high school science fair.

"Winston, please," the man said. "I get tired of sitting in my office sometimes, and I need to get out and see the sights. Besides, I like your pastries," the stubby man said.

"Sheldon, you don't need to be here. This is going to be a boring meeting. We're not discussing anything of substance."

"I'll be the judge of that, Winnie if you don't mind," Sheldon Weissman said. He was the owner and Editor-in-Chief of the Las Vegas Tribune, one of the two major papers in town. The other, the Nevada Review, was struggling, but Weissman's paper, which had leaned heavily into entertainment news and covering Las Vegas's seedier side, was going strong. In most American two-paper towns, the two competing newspapers were political opposites, but Vegas didn't follow the trend. Weissman was as apolitical as it came -- he couldn't care less who was in charge, he'd attack anybody if he thought it would sell a few papers. And that included both political leaders and the Mob.

The Tribune's investigative reporting about organized crime control of various hotels and casinos in Las Vegas had the entire city in a tizzy, and Winston knew that what he was going to tell the other owners in their private session was in substantial part due to Weissman. The fact that he'd been so public and so brazen in publishing those stories was probably why Weissman was still alive. The various families and organizations couldn't afford to kill him while the Feds were actively investigating them. Going after Weissman would bring the finger of God down on the families and they had enough problems without a high-profile assassination. So, the Tribune continued its reporting, newspapers continued selling like hotcakes, and Weissman laughed all the way to the bank.

The man knew no fear. Winston thought he was nuts, but so far it was working for him. Hopefully his luck wouldn't run out.

Weissman must have known NARC was going to discuss this exact issue later and was sniffing around for a story. This was the last thing Chesterfield needed, but he couldn't throw Weissman out -- these meetings were open to the public, per the organization's bylaws. It was part of their effort to change the city's image. Look, NARC told the world, we hold boring meetings, too! We're not just about sex, booze, money, and murder! Weissman was smart enough to know what the real point behind NARC was, but he'd so far refrained from blowing the lid off them. Winston expected part of it was because they didn't go out of their way to antagonize Weissman. So long as the meetings were public and they kept their noses clean, he seemed content to ignore the charade. Winston had to grin and bear his presence, and let the man eat his pastries.

"Hey, you want to waste your time, no skin off my nose," Winston told him. He turned away, as Weissman raided the pastry table and then sat down in one of the chairs by the door, his notepad balanced on his knee, as he munched on a bear claw.

Winston sat down, which was a signal for the rest of the group to sit. The staff found their chairs, and even Slim Wynnman stopped backslapping long enough to grab a seat.

"This meeting of the Nevada Association of Resorts and Casinos will come to order," Winston said.

The meeting was, as Winston had told Sheldon, pretty boring. They went through all the motions of a business meeting -- review of the minutes, approval of the minutes, old business, new business, good and welfare. They approved a variety of motions from members, including the hiring of a new PR firm that would design a new logo for the organization and a marketing campaign. They also approved a major fundraiser, a gala dinner they would hold on New Year's Eve, designed to raise money for the organization to reduce its reliance on membership dues.

The funny part was that the fundraising was going to come from all the same member companies, just like the annual dues for the organization did, but by making it a big dinner, Winston was appealing to the ego and vanity of each of the companies around the table. He knew full well that every single player here would want to show up bigger than their rivals, buy more tables, and take out bigger and more elaborate ads. The result would be a windfall for NARC, which Winston could then plow into more marketing and PR... and a nice little skim off the top for himself.

And the best part? His handlers hadn't figured out what they were doing yet, so he wouldn't have to share with New York. What the Genovese didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

Or maybe it would. They'd be talking about that in a few minutes.

"Now that we've finished our public business, do I have a motion to go into executive session to discuss personnel issues?"

"So moved," said Frank Boyd from the other end of the table.

"Second," said Slim Wynnman.

"Without objection, so ordered. Can we please clear the room? The public portion of this meeting is concluded. We'll finish up this one last order of business and then adjourn. Thanks everybody!" Winston said cheerfully, standing up. "We'll take a five-minute smoke break to clear the room."

Wynnman kicked back in his chair and lit a cigarette. Frank Boyd stood and came over to where Winston was standing. Winston saw him coming and moved in the opposite direction. Frank could wait. Winnie had to make sure Weissman was gone.

Winnie walked over to the two security guards who had been standing like statues by the entrance to the meeting room. He gestured for the two of them to huddle with him, and then he began to whisper.

"The fat guy at the pastry table?" He gestured with his head and the two guards looked over with their eyes. Sheldon Weissman was grabbing a couple of donuts and an apple fritter to go, wrapping them in a napkin, his notebook stuffed in the pocket of his tweed sports coat. "That's Sheldon Weissman. He's a reporter. Make sure he leaves the building. And make sure he doesn't talk to anybody or try to stick around and harass people after the meeting ends, got it? Don't be aggressive, just watch him, but make it obvious you're watching him, okay?"

The two guards nodded. Sheldon turned from the pastry table, smiled at Winnie, waved a donut at the two security guards, and then took a big bite. He chewed and then swallowed loudly. "Thanks for the grub, Winnie. See you next meeting!"

"Thanks for coming, Sheldon. I hope we didn't bore you to death," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, no. This was great. Exactly what I was expecting," he added. And with that, he waved one last time and toddled out of the room. The two security guards waited for two beats and then followed him.

Winston smiled politely until Sheldon was out of the room, and the smile faded instantly. He looked at his watch. It was already past one and he had wanted to be on the way to the hospital by now.

"Okay, let's get going. Wait, Boyd -- why is he still here?" Winston said, pointing at the kid Frank had brought with him.

"That's what I wanted to tell you before you ran off to talk to your security staff," Frank said, coming over. "I've been ordered to let the kid in on all my business."

"That's not how this works, Frank," Winston said, pinching his nose, feeling a headache coming on. "Each company gets one representative. That's how the executive committee has always worked."

"Aw, let the kid stick around, Winnie," Slim said, overhearing the conversation and taking a drag on his cigarette. "If we have to listen to this horseshit, might as well let him. It ain't gonna hurt nobody none."

"If we do it for him, we'll have to do it for everyone, Slim," Winston said. There were times when he couldn't believe he'd actually lobbied for this gig. It was nothing but a pain in the ass. Thank God he had that skim. He waved a hand in front of his face, to get the stink of Slim's cigarette out of his nose. He should have banned smoking in meetings, but if he did, half these men would never show up.

"Then do it for everybody else," said Lester Hemingway, one of the newer members of the NARC board. Lester's grandfather was Ernest Hemingway's younger brother, and the family had moved to Vegas in the sixties and took some money from a biography Lester's grandfather had written about his older brother and turned it into a string of casinos on the south side of the Strip, near the Oasis. "There's no reason why we can't have at least one staffer in here during executive session," he added. Lester was not a fan of Winston Chesterfield, and Winnie expected he'd sided with Boyd just to fuck with him.

"Fine. The kid can stay," Winston said, throwing his hands up. "And you can all bring one staffer next time. Let's get moving, we all have places to be," he added.

The group took their seats, a dozen men around the table, each the owner or chief executive of a Vegas casino or ownership group, and one twenty-year-old Yalie in a dark suit, dark tie, somber face and leather briefcase.

"Gentlemen," Winston began. "We're about to enter a very interesting time here in Las Vegas," he began. He looked around the room. "The Department of Justice in Washington has empaneled a grand jury, and they are in the process of handing down more than a dozen indictments against some people we all know very well," Winston said.

It was as if he'd dropped a bomb in the room. Everybody began talking at once, voices were raised, and Slim Wynnman started coughing so loudly that Winston thought he might have swallowed his cigarette.

"Quiet! Quiet!" Winston shouted, pounding his hand on the table.

"How do you know this, Winnie?" Frank Boyd asked. "And is this confirmed?"

"It doesn't matter how I know it," Winston said, avoiding the question. Winnie's family was an old-school Virginia family, and its political ties ran very, very deep -- deep enough that a very well connected, recently retired former Senator from Virginia had felt compelled to give him a call and let him know what was happening. The other casino executives didn't need to know that, however. "And yes, it's confirmed. The Ant, the Chin, the Cork, Toughie, the Clown, and a handful of others -- they're all about to be indicted and arrested."

"Do they know this?" Victor Romano asked from the back row behind Frank Boyd.

"No," Winston said. "They don't. And I'm not going to tell them. Are you?"

Victor looked at him without blinking. "No," he said flatly.

"Jesus, Winnie," Slim said. "How the hell did you find this out?"

"Let's just say a little bird told me," Winston joked. He laughed inwardly at the joke. None of these idiots would understand it. "Again, it doesn't matter how I learned this. What matters is what we do about it. The Mob is about to be history in Vegas. That's an instant profit increase for all of us," Winston said, a half-grin on his face. "But it also means uncertainty," he added.

"Uncertainty? Why?" Lester Hemingway stared hard at Winston down the table. "This sounds like exactly what we've all been hoping for. Everybody around this table has gotten shaken down by these mobsters at one point or another. If the Mob is suddenly out, maybe this town will finally start to settle down and we all won't have to sleep with guns under our pillows."

"Don't be naïve," Boyd said, looking at Hemingway. "Winston is right. We all hate the skim, and we all hate the blood, but things have been stable and predictable for a while now. The Mob has kept a lot of folks out of Vegas who otherwise might see the money we're making and want a piece."

"You mean like that huge conglomerate you work for, Frank?" Slim drawled, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth. "No more Mob and I figure there's more where you came from, all wanting a piece of the action," he smirked.

"Exactly what I mean," Frank said. "You all don't know what real competition is like. Our friends in Chicago and Kansas City and New York have protected you from it. If they're gone..." Frank held his hands up.

"This is why I'm telling you all this now," Winston said. "Things are going to change and change big here shortly," he said. "Be ready for it."

Another ten minutes of discussion and the meeting wrapped up. Winston didn't spend another second there he didn't have to. As he was leaving, he saw Victor Romano and Frank Boyd in the corner, furiously whispering to each other. Frank looked agitated, but that Romano kid looked as cool as a cucumber. Winston made a mental note to call and ask the kid out for lunch later.

Fifteen minutes after he left the Oasis, Winnie was standing in the maternity ward of Sunrise Hospital and Medical Center. He stepped up to the nurse's station and introduced himself to the woman behind the desk.

"Can you tell me if Sheba Sinclair has had her baby yet?" Winston asked her. The nurse looked at him and hesitated. Winston was dressed well, the touch of gray in his hair making him look older than his forty-four years, but he had a nice face, a gentle smile, and a disarming air about him.

"Are you family?" She asked finally. "I can't give out that kind of private information except to family members."

Winston grinned. The truth was, yes -- Bathsheba was his daughter. Nobody knew that but him. Even she didn't know. Her mother wanted to tell her when she was old enough to understand, but Thumper had died when Sheba was ten and she'd never managed to figure out how to break the news to her daughter. By that point, Winnie had married and had two little boys and wasn't looking for drama.

Sheba's husband David Sinclair, one of Winnie's employees at the Oasis -- a blackjack dealer of some skill -- had no idea, either.

Winston shook his head. "I'm a friend of the family," he said, reaching over and offering his hand to the nurse. She looked at him oddly, but stood up and took it, realizing he had palmed her a folded fifty-dollar bill.

This must have been a common occurrence in the hospital, or else this nurse was more worldly than her looks made her seem because she didn't miss a beat. "Of course, sir. Let me check," she said, spinning in her chair and pulling down a clipboard with a list of patients and their status. She ran her finger down the list, stopping midway down and tapping it. "Follow me, please," she said, as she rose, left the nurse's station, and headed down a corridor to her left.

The air was still, but Winnie could hear the sounds of babies crying, laughing, and the other common murmurs you'd hear in an active maternity ward. Midway down the hallway, the nurse stopped and gestured toward a row of large windows. Winnie stopped next to her and then turned, seeing the hospital's nursery through the glass.

"Sheba Sinclair delivered a healthy baby boy this morning," the nurse said, grandly. "That's him in the front, on the left."

Winston looked closely, but from where he stood, all he could see was a bundle of blue swaddling clothes and the dark black skin of a tiny infant boy. Sheba was half white, but David was fully African American, and his son took after him.

"There he is!" Winston said, as his face cracked into a bright smile. "He's beautiful," he added softly, tears forming in his eyes. This was his grandson, his first grandchild.

He had a grandson! He was a grandfather!

The pain would hit him later, that this boy would grow up never knowing who Winston was, or why he cared, but Winnie vowed that he'd do whatever he could from behind the scenes to ensure this child had everything he needed for a good shot at life. He owed that much to Thumper. A part of Winnie still cared for her and always would.

Winston looked at his grandson, through the tears. "What did she name him?" He asked, trying to get a grip on his emotions.

The nurse rifled through the clipboard she'd been carrying. She came across the boy's entry.

"Solomon," the nurse said. "That's fitting," she said, a little laugh in her voice.

"Why?" Winston said, not understanding what was fitting.

"David and Bathsheba? You know, from the Bible? David was a king, and his son was also a king, named Solomon. You've heard of King Solomon, right?"

Winston barked a laugh. "I've known this family for years, and I never put that together," he said. "Thanks, Miss. Can I stay here a little while?"

The nurse looked at him fondly, the nice man in his expensive suit, and nodded. "Take all the time you want," she said. Winnie smiled at her, then turned back to look at his grandson, sleeping gently in the nursery with all of the other kids.

"Solomon Sinclair," Winnie said softly. "A good name," he said. He stood standing there, watching his grandson sleep for a few more minutes, lost in contemplation.

"Mr. Chesterfield?" a voice asked, breaking Winston's concentration. Winston turned sharply to see the last person he expected to see in the maternity ward of Sunrise Hospital.

It was that kid, the one he'd met earlier at the meeting. Something Italian. A cheese or something. Parmesan? No. No, it was Romano. Vincent? Vic? No -- Victor, he thought.

"Victor! What are you doing here?" Winnie said, deeply angry at being interrupted while he was having a private moment but doing his best to paper it over with his best Vegas showman routine. What the fuck was this kid doing there? Had he followed him? Scenarios started racing through Winston's head, and more than a few of them ended with this kid getting lost in the desert. If the kid had followed him, seen him here, he could put two and two together and figure out why he was here, and that was intolerable.

"My wife just gave birth yesterday," Romano told him, proudly. "That's my daughter, right there in the front," he said, pointing to a cute white face sleeping calmly, wrapped in a pink blanket. "I thought I'd stop in while I was nearby and see my wife. I'm hoping I can take the two of them home tonight," he added.

"Congratulations! That's great news!" Winston said, relief flooding through him. He wasn't going to have to wack this kid, after all. "What's her name?"

"Sally," Romano said, a smile cracking his face for the first time. It looked odd on him, like it was something he wasn't used to doing. Winston honestly preferred him without it. It looked completely unnatural.

"Well, congrats to you and your Missus," Winnie said. "I can't believe you're old enough to be a father!" He added, slapping Victor on the arm in a chummy way. "Hell, I can't believe you're old enough to be married! When I was your age, I was too busy banging everything that moved to settle down!"

The smile wavered, but Romano took the off-color remark in stride. "We met at Yale," Romano explained. "She was a graduate student, and she was one of the teaching assistants in my accelerated program. She's five years older than me, and never lets me forget it," he said. "She was eager to start a family, as was I. What brings you here?"

"Oh, visiting a friend of a friend," Winston said, trying to be as nonchalant as he could be. "It's nice to get out of the hotel once in a while. Seeing all these kids... reminds me of when my sons were born," he added. "I've got two. They're both back in Virginia with their mother. She doesn't think Vegas is the right kind of place to raise a family," Winston said, smiling.

Romano's smile faded away completely, and he returned to the overly serious, stoic-looking boy he'd been in their earlier meeting. "I agree, Mr. Chesterfield," Romano said. "But it could be," he added. "We've got a chance to make this city anew, after what you told us all today. I want this town to be a place Sally can be proud to say she's from someday," he added. "And I'm going to work hard to make that dream a reality."

"Ah, an idealist," Winston said, a wry grin tugging at his lips. "I used to be like you," he said softly. "This town has a way of knocking that kind of idealism out of a man."

"Not me," Romano said firmly. "Some of us are made of tougher material. It will take more than this town can muster to vex me."

Winston raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He had to give the kid credit. The kid had balls. Nobody else would have talked to him like that. Winston made a mental note to find out everything he could about this Victor Romano.

Winston turned to look at his grandson again, while Victor turned to look at his daughter. The two men stood in silence, looking at the next generation, laying peacefully in their cribs.

* * *

Sunday Afternoon, May 30, 2032

The Elysium, Las Vegas

"What should I wear?" Eva called to Avery from the spare bedroom in Jack's penthouse apartments.

Avery was lounging on the couches in the living room, a magazine on her lap and a cup of coffee in her hand. The sun was slowly sinking behind the building as the end of the afternoon approached. It had been a nice, lazy Sunday, and the two women were getting ready for what they expected would be a pretty wild night.

Emily Fisher's bachelorette party.

"Don't worry about it," Avery called into the spare bedroom, idly flipping a page. The TV was on in the background, the last inning of the Diamondbacks game. The TV rarely left the sports channels, as that's all Jack watched. Avery could have switched it to a news channel, but she was desperately trying to leave that life behind, at least in her mind.

Eva stepped into the doorway of the spare bedroom, which had been Claire Hoskins' until a few weeks ago. Jack's assistant had lived with him in the Elysium for months, but now that Avery, Eva, and Jack had formalized their throuple, they needed the extra space for Eva.

Well, Eva's dresses. And purses. And shoes. And the rest of her clothes. The spare bedroom had basically become another walk-in closet for Eva, although Avery had managed to steal a corner or two for herself. Unlike Eva, who had grown up Vegas royalty, Avery was just happy to have a couple of nice things besides her work clothes. They were pretty frumpy, she knew, and not at all in keeping with her new, sexier and confident self. She should probably throw them all out.

"What do you mean, 'don't worry about it'? I've never been to a bachelorette party before, Avery. What am I supposed to wear? Is this formal? Is it informal? Is it rave gear? Is it sexy party clothes? Is it night-out-on-the-town? Is it something else?"

Avery looked up at Eva and gave her a mischievous grin. "Evie, this is Emily Fisher's bachelorette party. Emily Fisher. What do you think is going to happen tonight?"

"I have no idea. I don't know Jack's mom that well. We didn't exactly start off on the right foot, did we?" Eva said, cocking her head in exasperation.

"That doesn't matter. You know she's over all that now," Avery said, sighing. She's welcomed you to the family. She felt the same way about me when Jack and I started dating. Now she loves me. She'll love you too, eventually. Don't worry about it. And don't worry about what to wear tonight."

"Arghhh!" Eva said, throwing her hands up. "Well... then what are you wearing?!" Eva demanded.

"This," Avery said, idly flipping a page in her magazine until the ballgame caught her eye, and she looked up to watch the TV.

"That? One of Jack's ratty old baseball sweatshirts and a pair of booty shorts? You can't go out in that!" Eva yelled. She marched over to where Avery was sitting and juxtaposed herself between Avery and the TV.

Avery sighed and closed the magazine. "Evie, this is Emily Fisher's bachelorette party. We're going to The Fields Spa for pampering, and then we're going to do whatever she wants. And I can guarantee you right now that what she wants is going to involve a half dozen Black guys. You aren't going to need clothes. We're not going to be wearing clothes. So, just wear whatever you've got on. It's not a big deal," Avery said, looking up into her girlfriend's eyes, which had gone wide.

"Wait, what?"

"Evie, I can guarantee you, one hundred percent, that Emily is going to be airtight with black cock tonight. This is her bachelorette party, and there's nothing she enjoys more. And they'll be plenty for everybody, if the other girls want it," she added. Avery stood up to refill her coffee. "Probably."

"For real?" Eva asked, her voice quiet and questioning.

"For real," Avery said. "Now, I doubt I'm going to partake, but you're free to, obviously. Some of the other girls may as well, but this is Emily's party, so she'll be the main attraction."

"Who else is coming?" Eva asked, following Avery to the kitchen. Avery refilled her coffee mug, and turned, resting her butt on the counter and looking at Eva.

The two women were as opposite as they could be. Eva was of average height, platinum blonde hair usually shoulder length but often done up in a bun or French braid like it was now, with frosty blue eyes and a pale beauty that most men found conventionally attractive. Her breasts were firm and high up on her chest, not too large but big enough to turn heads, especially when she showed a little cleavage. Her legs were fit and solid, her waist tiny, to match her almost non-existent butt. She looked like an ice princess, and that's how she'd been treated most of her life. The daughter of Vex and Ilsa Romano, she had the blood of real German royalty in her veins, and the last name of de facto Vegas royalty. Vex was the undisputed king of the Vegas casino scene. His daughter had spent much of her life angling to replace him when he exited the business, either willingly or unwillingly. That was the old Eva, though. She'd since changed her ambitions. Why inherit when you could build? Why wait to get someone else's hand-me-downs when you could make your own destiny? Vex had created his own empire, and Eva knew she could, too.

Avery, on the other hand, had no desire to build kingdoms or empires. She was a reporter by trade, a storyteller at heart. She loved using words to weave a picture, and she'd spent most of her adult life doing so, at one newspaper or another. She and her colleagues at the Washington Chronicle were up for a Pulitzer Prize for their investigative reporting, and she earnestly hoped they'd win -- it would be good to end her reporting career on a high note. But the differences between Avery and Eva in the ambition department were nowhere near as stark as the contrasts between their looks. Avery was very tall, dark and dusky thanks to her Indian ancestry, with hair the color of midnight, hanging down in loose curls to the top of her butt. Her big brown eyes were set above high cheekbones and delicate features that were both subtle and striking. She had a smallish waist, but her hips were wide, and her butt was round, the proverbial bubble that rappers wrote songs about. But very few men (or women, for that matter) were looking at her ass. She was stacked, with two extremely large breasts that drew the eye and started cocks to rise in salute whenever she showed them off.

Avery had spent most of her life hiding her body, doing everything she could to downplay her assets, and had even considered a breast reduction when she was younger. She didn't want the attention, especially of the opposite sex, and she'd done everything she could to look as frumpy as possible. Sex -- at least in real life, because she was a porn connoisseur - had been anathema to her, a thing that destroyed families and caused nothing but heartbreak. She just wanted to be able to do her job and not have to deal with the constant advances she knew would be inevitable if she tried to make herself look attractive. She couldn't hide her face, however, and that alone had given her more grief in the men department than she'd ever wanted.

This was one area where Avery and Eva had something in common -- both of them were late comers to sex and sexuality. Eva had been so focused on becoming her father's heir apparent that sex was never something she cared about beyond how she could use it to manipulate others to do her bidding, something she had been very good at. Avery, on the other hand, had sworn off sex for more than a decade because of her traumatic upbringing. That upbringing, as the daughter of a pederast father alongside her deeply troubled brother, left both men dead -- one killed in prison after being convicted on child sexual abuse charges thanks to Avery's own testimony, and the other by his own hand, unable to accept what had happened to their family. Sex had been the furthest thing from Avery's mind, just like it had been for Eva.

And then they met Jack Fisher.

Jack Fisher... tall, handsome, funny, and humble. He'd swept Avery off her feet, made her feel safe, protected her and came to her rescue when she'd been attacked by terrorists. Jack Fisher, who had been so sweet and goofy, charming her and then being there to listen and understand as she worked through her trauma. She couldn't help falling in love with him. And she understood completely when Eva had a similar experience. Eva had tried to seduce Jack, to use him as part of her ongoing efforts to secure her father's legacy, but he'd steadfastly refused, staying true to Avery and himself. The more he played hard to get, the more Eva found she wanted him. And then he'd saved her life, rescuing her from her own folly with that bastard Geno Volkov. That event had been a watershed moment for her, had woken her up to how vapid and manipulating she had been, and changed her entire outlook on life. Her attempt at seduction morphed into real love. And then she'd met Avery, actually gotten to know her, and realized that for all their differences, they were like opposite sides of the same coin. It didn't hurt that she was beautiful, smart and funny, too. And thus, their throuple was born.

Jack, Avery and Eva. About as unlikely a relationship as you'd find -- former enemies becoming friends, friends becoming lovers, and now the three of them were about to start a new life, running Jack's project for his soon-to-be stepfather, Solomon Sinclair and his fiancée, Jack's mom, Emily.

Avery thought for a moment about Eva's question about the guest list. "I am not really sure," she said, honestly. "I assume Nyla will be there, maybe some of her entourage. But I don't know who else is around. I guess we'll find out when we get down there."

"We need to be down there by seven, right?" Eva asked, looking at the clock on the microwave, behind Avery.

"Right," Avery said. It was a little after five.

"So that means we've got some time," Eva said, stepping in closer to Avery. "And since I don't have to worry about getting dressed..."

Eva leaned in and kissed Avery gently, giving her a chance to put down her cup of coffee without spilling it everywhere.

Sex with Jack was fun, but there was just something about another woman that left Avery tingling with anticipation. Her first sexual experiences post trauma had been with women -- with Emily and Nyla at The Fields Spa, actually -- and, like Jack's predilection for Black men thanks to his early relations with his roommate Ben, Avery had come to enjoy sex with women as much, if not more, than sex with men.

Eva was just getting used to sex as pleasure and not politics, so every experience was new to her. Jack and Avery had introduced her to so many new things, not the least of which was group sex, and it felt like every day something new happened.

Avery didn't feel like she was any kind of sexual expert, but she and Jack had been experimenting for months before Eva had entered the picture, so she felt like she could guide her girlfriend a little. In the end, though, it was a bit like the blind leading the blind, and all three of them were discovering new and exciting things all the time.

Sometimes, though, it's nice to just have something familiar. And nothing was more familiar to Eva now than the feel of Avery's lips on hers, the feel of their bodies touching.

Avery wrapped her arms around Eva's neck and pulled her in close, their lips mashing together as their tongues explored each other's mouth. She could feel her breasts pressing into Eva's upper chest, the few inches she had on her girlfriend enough to force Eva to stand almost on her tiptoes to reach Avery's mouth.

Her hands didn't have to go far, however, to each Avery's tits, and that's where they went. Eva was obsessed with Avery's breasts, even more than Jack was. Any excuse she had to touch them, feel them, taste them, she took. Her hands found their way up and under Jack's ratty old sweatshirt Avery had thrown on, and soon she was squeezing and weighing Avery's boobs, braless, under the fabric.

Avery, for her part, loved having her breasts played with, and the feeling of Eva's hands on her made her moan gently into Eva's mouth. Eva pulled back for a second, looking into Avery's eyes, which had opened when the kiss broke, and smiled. Then she dived back in, and the two began a second, more furious kiss.

The sweatshirt didn't last much longer, Eva tugging it over Avery's shoulders, and Avery broke the kiss this time, tugging her booty shorts off and helping Eva out of her clothes. Soon the pair were nude, standing in the kitchen, Avery's coffee cooling, forgotten, on the counter.

"Let's get more comfortable," Avery said, taking Eva by the hand. She led her into the master bedroom, where the massive, custom-built bed awaited them. The bed, which could easily sleep three, and had fit more than half a dozen in the past, was the centerpiece of the room, and there was more than enough space for the throuple and their sexual combinations. With just the two of them, it felt like they were fucking on an ocean of comfort.

Avery pulled Eva on top of her, spreading her legs and allowing Eva to slide up her body. Eva made it about halfway, Avery's tits calling to her mouth, and that's where she stopped, kissing her way up from Avery's stomach to the valley between the two mountains of deeply tanned flesh, topped by little chocolate-colored kisses. Avery squealed as Eva bit down on one of her nipples.

"Gentle!" She admonished, but Eva knew she'd just sent a thrill of pleasure through Avery that had overwhelmed her. She hadn't bit that hard. Yet. Eva smiled sweetly, and then attacked Avery's other nipple, causing another squeal of pleasure.

Avery grinned down at Eva, and ran her fingers through as much of Eva's hair as she could. The braid was starting to come down, and Avery tugged gently at it, pulling Eva's hair loose, and letting it cascade down her back.

"Tanks," Eva mumbled around Avery's nipple.

Eva's attention to her breasts gave Avery goosebumps, and she could feel her pussy start to react to the sensations. She was feeling warm and slick between her legs, the heat of Eva's body mingling with her own arousal. Both she and Eva were completely shaved -- Jack preferred them that way, and the women did, too -- and Avery hoped that Eva would slide back down her body soon because she needed to feel a mouth or a hand or a toy on her or in her.

The anticipation of Emily's bachelorette party, which Avery knew was going to be an epic bacchanal, had kept Avery in a heightened sexual state for most of the day. She'd done her best to keep her mind off it, as the anticipation was almost as much fun as the having. But she knew, now that she and Eva were enjoying a little afternoon delight, that she needed to take the edge off if she was going to make it through the evening without exploding from sheer desire.

As if Eva could read Avery's mind, she slid down her body and began to focus her attention on Avery's very sensitive clitoris.

"Oooh, right there," she said, running her fingers through Eva's hair. Eva looked up and grinned at her and then buried her face back down into Avery's crotch.

Avery knew they had a bit of time to kill, but not that much time. She threw her head back and let the sensations of Eva's mouth on her body hold her attention. But she didn't just want to feel good -- she wanted to give pleasure, too. Avery had found that she enjoyed giving as much, if not more, than receiving.

"Babe, let me get a taste of you," Avery said, looking lovingly down at Eva, who paused in her ministrations when she heard Avery speak.

"Okay, but I'm not done with you," Eva said, grumpily.

"You don't have to be. Let's sixty-nine," Avery suggested. At that suggestion, Eva perked up immediately, a big grin on her face.

She immediately spun around, throwing her legs over Avery's torso, and moving back, giving Avery access to her pussy while she leaned back in and began to lick Avery's clit and slowly probed her vaginal opening with two fingers.

Avery returned the favor, slipping a finger into Eva's pussy before she turned her own attention to Eva's clit.

The two ladies knew exactly what the other enjoyed most, and it took almost no time before the sounds of loud female orgasms were bouncing off the walls of their bedroom. Avery didn't let Eva's orgasm stop her, and she continued to play with Eva's pussy until Eva couldn't take any more attention and rolled off her, panting.

Avery propped herself up on one elbow, looking at her girlfriend with a small grin on her face. "What? Done already?"

"I don't want to get too worked up, if what you said about what Emily has planned tonight is true," Eva told her.

"Fair enough," Avery said, sitting up. "I guess it's time we start getting ready anyway," she sighed, looking at the clock.

Eva rolled off the bed and stood up. "I'm going to get a shower quickly, unless you think that's a waste of time," she asked Avery.

"No, I'll join you. I'm sure we're going to end up doing it all again when we get to the spa, but I don't want to go down there smelling like sex," she said. She smiled softly. "Although I'm sure that's what we'll smell like by the end of the night."

Eva grinned at her, and they got cleaned up.

* * *

Sunday Night, May 30, 2032

The Elysium, Las Vegas

Eva and Avery had donned matching sports bras and white yoga pants before they headed downstairs to The Fields Spa. From the first time she'd been there, with Nyla and Emily six months ago, The Fields had been one of Avery's favorite parts of the Elysium. Built like a traditional Roman bath, it had a variety of pools, rooms, and areas to relax that you went through at your own pace. Hot rooms, cool rooms, a sauna, a cold plunge, and the large pool where men and women could meet, frolic, and do more, if they chose. And, of course, there were the modern amenities every spa was expected to provide -- massage tables, manicures and pedicures, and the like. The Fields was also a med spa, where people could get Botox, facials, laser treatments, and other beauty enhancements, as well as the very expensive - but completely worth it - breast enhancement therapy that could increase bust size with no scarring or surgery.

"Do you think I need that surgery?" Eva asked as they saw an advertisement for it as they breezed through the lobby of The Fields. The light woods and videos of flowing wheat made no impression on the women as they headed into the women's apodyterium -- essentially a women's locker room - to get changed.

"Not at all," Avery said. "I love your boobs just the way they are," she told her. "And so does Jack."

"It's easy to say that when you make Dolly Parton look flat-chested," Eva scoffed. "Even one cup size?"

Avery rolled her eyes and slid out of her clothes, putting on a white cotton Elysium Hotel robe. "It's your decision, but you are beautiful, and you don't need any enhancements as far as I am concerned," Avery told her. She took a step over and kissed Eva on the tip of her nose.

Eva grinned back at her. "Thanks, cutes. I think you're hot as fuck, too," she added.

"And so do I," said another voice from behind them.

Emily Fisher, Jack's Mom and the host of the evening's bacchanalia, was just entering the apodyterium, with Nyla Sinclair and Lucy Lawson coming in behind her. Nyla was Sol's only daughter and often Emily's key partner in crime. Lucy was Nyla's girlfriend and one of the Terrible Trio.

Avery smiled when she saw Emily, who was already in a white Elysium robe.

"Now that you're here, we can start the fun, right?" Avery said, smirking at her boyfriend's mother.

"We're waiting on one more person, and then we'll be ready," Emily said. "In the meantime, we can watch Nyla and Lucy get naked," she laughed.

Nyla turned to look at Emily. "Wait, what? Just one more? You're telling me that for the hottest event of the month, there's just going to be six of us?"

"There will be close to a dozen of us, but only one more female guest," Emily said, cocking her head and putting her hands on her hips. "This is my party, and I get to invite who I want. Also, for some reason, nobody seems to be at the hotel this weekend," she added.

"What about the rest of the 'Terrible Trio'?" Eva asked.

The Terrible Trio was the nickname for Nyla's entourage. It included Lucy, her girlfriend and erstwhile assistant at the Sinclair Group, along with Gabby Hart, her bodyguard, and Chloe Taylor, her former tutor, who also happened to look perennially eighteen, even though she was in her thirties now. The group used to be inseparable, even sleeping in the same bed, but they'd all picked up significant others in the last six months, which kept them apart far more often than in the past.

"Gabby is out with Lionel and Sunny," Emily replied, ticking off the two members of the other throuple in the Elysium, besides Jack, Avery, and Eva. Lionel was the most senior member of the Sinclair family protective detail, and Sunny was an FBI agent who had dated Lionel when he'd been at the Bureau years before. The three of them started dating again a few months back, as Sunny was drawn back into the Sinclair orbit following the attacks on the family. "And who the hell knows where Chloe and her boytoy have run off to?"

"What about my mom?" Avery asked. Her mother, Ainsley, was one of Nyla's directors for Elysium Productions, the Sinclair Group porn studio, and she'd recently become one of their hit stars.

"She's out in California, scouting filming locations for us," Nyla replied, taking off her sports bra and sweatpants, showing off her chocolate frame and beautifully sculpted pubic hair, dyed the same blonde as her hair and shaped to look like a heart. The view made Avery's heartbeat tick slightly faster.

"Chris Stoneman? Molly? Zoey? Claire? Tiana? Cassidy? Misaki?" Avery ticked off many of the other women in their coterie.

"Chris won't appreciate what we're going to be doing tonight," Emily said, laughing. Chris was one of the few true lesbians in Emily's orbit, a grizzled Marine veteran who served as Chief of Security for Sinclair Group. "Molly and Zoey are visiting Zoey's family back east, Claire is with Ben, also visiting family, Tiana is on vacation, and Cassidy is out with Ainsley scouting locations. Misaki is who we're waiting for. You're making me feel like you don't want to hang out with me, Avery!" Emily said, faux-pouting.

"It's not that! I'm just... surprised. I feel like this is kind of a big deal," Avery told her. "I've never been to a bachelorette party before. Aren't we supposed to all have matching t-shirts or sashes or something? Aren't we supposed to all be drinking big fruity drinks with dick-shaped straws and all that?"

Emily scoffed, pausing to watch Lucy disrobe. Lucy was beautiful, busty, and looked like a human version of Jessica Rabbit, with long red hair that fell in gorgeous waves down her back. It wasn't hard to understand why Nyla was in love with her. Once both she and Nyla had changed into their soft, white Elysium robes, Emily turned back to Avery. "Dear, I'm not a twenty-something first timer. This is my second marriage, and we're going to do things my way," she added, arching an eyebrow.

Avery grinned again and looked over at Eva, who gave her back a blank stare. Oh, babe Avery thought to herself. You have no idea what's coming, do you?

Emily looked over the group and pronounced them ready.

"What about Misaki?" Eva said, pointing out that they were still one guest short.

"Misaki is bringing the boys," Emily said cryptically. "Now follow me. We've got some pampering before the main event," she said.

Emily led the five women into the first room of the baths, the tepidarium. This was essentially a very large indoor swimming pool. The water was heated, and the walls were covered in beautiful mosaics depicting dozens and dozens of different erotic scenes. There was room enough in the tepidarium for a large number of people, and with just five, it seemed almost empty.

"Are we going through all four rooms?" Avery asked, taking a step towards the pool, and then hesitating. She didn't want to presume that they were going to be doing all four steps of the baths today. This was, after all, Emily's party.

"Only if you want to, dear," Emily said. "I expect most of the party will be in here." She clapped her hands, and the staff doors on the far side of the room opened. One of The Fields spa ladies brought in a tray with half a dozen flutes of champagne, which she then distributed to the women, leaving the tray and a single flute for Misaki whenever she arrived.

"First things first, let's get naked, and let's relax a little before the entertainment arrives," Emily said. She shrugged off her robe and then stepped into the pool, gliding down the steps and taking a seat on one of the benches under the water. The benches were spaced around the lip of the pool, high enough that the women's breasts and arms were free from the water if they sat up straight.

Avery helped Eva out of her robe and then took her own off. Eva handed her back her glass of champagne, and they followed Nyla and Lucy into the warm waters of the pool. The five women settled in one of the corners, with Emily in the crook, Nyla and Lucy on her left, and Avery and Eva on her right.

Eva stared openly at Emily Fisher. This was Jack's mom. She'd seen photographs of Emily in the throuple's apartments, pictures of her and Jack when he was a kid, photos of her and her husband Jonathan in happier times before he passed, photos of her as recently as last year, of her in a business setting, as the Sinclair Group's general counsel.

The woman sitting here, nude, sipping champagne, looked almost nothing like the woman in those photographs. Emily Fisher used to be mousy, with a Karen-style hairdo that made Starbucks managers everywhere cower in terror, a pair of moderately sized breasts that wouldn't have turned any heads, and a demure style that made her look like exactly what she had been -- a fairly senior white collar attorney.

Nobody was going to call the woman sitting in the corner of The Fields tepidarium pool 'mousy' or 'demure.'

Emily's hair, which had been dirty blonde and tinged with just a hint of grey, was now as black as Avery's. Her Karen haircut was gone, her hair long and lustrous, flowing down past her shoulders, just above her breasts. Her breasts represented the biggest transformation of all. There was nothing moderate about those boobs now, Eva thought. Emily had been undergoing the non-surgical enhancement surgery for more than half a year now, and her breasts had swelled to enormous proportions. They were almost too big for her frame, but they looked firm and full, and were capped by two strawberry-colored nipples, each pierced with a gold ring that winked in the light from the overhead sconces.

Her belly button was pierced, and Eva had seen before Emily took a seat on the steps that she had a piercing above her clit as well. And, most incongruously, on her back was a large black spade tattoo, with a stylized Sinclair 'S' -- the same logo as in the Sinclair Group's logo -- in the center, where the 'Q' would be on a traditional Queen of Spades tattoo.

Emily's transformation from mom and lawyer to Chief Snowbunny of the Sinclair Group was well known. Eva had to admit that it turned her on. She didn't know Emily that well, had no idea what had caused the transformation, but she had to admit she enjoyed looking at her.

Avery did, as well, and she knew exactly what had caused the transformation. Emily, like her, had been sheltered for years, forgoing sex, pining for her lost husband, secretly lusting after her son, who looked and acted so much like Jonathan that it almost hurt to be around him. When she'd finally met Solomon Sinclair, joined the Sinclair Group as their lead attorney, and gotten to understand what it was Sol was trying to do -- the sexual freedom and easy eroticism that defined the Elysium and the Sinclair brand -- she had let herself go. Those years of pent-up sex needed an outlet, and they found it. Emily went from staid to slutty, and Sol had watched the whole thing happen, supportive and proud the entire time. It was no wonder Emily was in love with him. He let her be herself, explore and push the boundaries she'd created, and was always there for her, no matter what.

Avery guessed that was why Sol and Jack got along so well. They weren't related by blood, but they certainly had the same attitude about the women they cared for.

Avery felt Eva's hand on her leg, and she looked over and saw Eva staring openly at Emily. Avery leaned over and whispered in her girlfriend's ear. "Hot, isn't she?"

"Totally," Eva replied. "I understand why Jack went as far as he did, but I can't understand why he didn't go all the way," she laughed quietly.

"That's a long story," Avery said. "We can talk about it later."

"What are you two whispering about over there, hmm?" Nyla said, looking haughtily over at Jack's two women. Nyla was as big a fan of Jack as any of the women in the hotel, and while she liked Avery and Eva very much, Avery always suspected a part of her was slightly jealous that Jack's attention was kept from her as often as it was. Nyla had disliked Jack when he first came to the hotel, but he'd won her over. He'd done the same thing with Avery, after all.

Avery, for her part, was a big fan of Nyla's, one of her first two lovers -- even before Jack. It had been Emily and Nyla's efforts, in this very room, that had finally gotten Avery past her decade long mental block and opened up this new world of sex and sensuality that she had been living in for months now. She owed a lot to those two women, and she knew they knew she appreciated everything they'd done for her.

"Eva was telling me how hot she thinks Emily looks tonight," Avery said, truthfully.

Emily smiled broadly. "I'm glad you think so, Eva," Emily said. "You're looking pretty hot yourself," she added. "Why don't you come over here and sit on my lap?"

Avery laughed, and Eva looked at her questioningly. Avery just nodded and jerked her head towards Emily. "It's her party. You said you wanted to get to know her better, here's your chance," she said, sotto voce.

Eva set her glass of champagne on the lip of the pool and crossed over to where Emily was sitting. She began to turn around to hop up on Emily's lap, but Emily stopped her.

"Not that way, dear. Sit facing me," she said. "I want to be able to look at you," she added.

Eva felt her heart speed up a bit. She spread her legs and straddled Emily, sitting down on her lap, her nipples brushing up against Emily's mammoth mounds. Emily smiled broadly and looked into Eva's piercing blue eyes. Her own were a deep brown, which Eva thought was odd, given that Jack's were a very light blue, almost gray.

"So, you think I'm hot, huh?" Emily asked Eva, resting her hands on Eva's hips. Eva wrapped her arms around Emily's neck and nodded, too tongue-tied to speak.

"Well, I think you're pretty sexy yourself, my dear," Emily said, tilting her head. "How about we start this party off while we wait for the main event to arrive?" As she said this, she leaned in and kissed Eva.

Eva's eyes went a bit wide, and Avery had to laugh. What did Eva expect was going to happen? That Emily kissed her was the least surprising thing in the world.

Eva clearly liked it, because after the initial shock at her lips touching Emily's, the pair began a fervent make-out session, tongues twirling, little noises competing with the lapping of the water in the pool against the sides. Avery remembered her own make-out session just a few hours ago with Eva, and felt her body begin to react. Almost of its own volition, her hand found its way down to her crotch, and she started to rub herself between her legs.

Nyla and Lucy were also enjoying the show, and Avery thought she noticed Nyla's arm dip below the water, aiming for a point right between Lucy's thighs.

Avery's sexual block had kept her from engaging in any sex acts with other people for almost a decade. But she hadn't been completely celibate. She'd turned, like many, many other people had, to porn. She watched hours of the stuff, pleasuring herself, and over the years, she'd become as visual as most men when it came to turn-ons. She was a committed voyeur, and watching people fuck was one of the quickest ways to get her turned on. Whether it was in real life or on a screen, Avery liked to watch, and she especially liked watching her boyfriend and girlfriend with other people. Avery felt her pussy getting slick, feeling little sparks of excitement in her clit each time her fingers brushed it.

Nyla, Lucy, and Avery all looked on as Emily and Eva kissed each other deeply, and the sexual tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.

At that moment, the doors on the far end of the room opened. The girls tore their attention from the Eva and Emily show and watched as one of the most beautiful women any of them had ever seen strolled into the room. Behind her, following like a row of baby ducks after their mother, entered five of the sexiest Black men in the Elysium's stable of sex workers.

Avery recognized Jason Noir and Chance Carter, two of Nyla's biggest Black stars with Elysium Productions. The other three men she didn't know by name but had seen around the hotel in the past six months, probably with Emily at some point.

Misaki Oh was almost too perfect to be human. Japanese, with large breasts, a doll's face, and the most exquisite skin and hair, she was one of the most prized of all the sex workers at the Elysium, and an award-winning porn star in her own right. She and Jack Fisher had won awards at the AAFI ceremony a few months ago, the same ceremony that saw Eva almost kidnapped by a Russian pornographer who had died in jail a few days later.

It was no wonder that Misaki had been accused by a rival porn studio of being AI generated. She looked too good to be true. Even in the cotton white robe of the hotel, she looked stunning. The men behind her were wearing the black t-shirts and booty shorts that served as something of a uniform for the Elysium's Black sex workers.

Emily saw Misaki enter the room and broke off her kiss with Eva.

"Eva, as much fun as that was, I think it's time we got this party started right," she said wickedly.

Misaki stepped over to the edge of the pool and dropped her robe. She was nude underneath.

"Mrs. Fisher, my apologies for being late. I needed to ensure the men were properly attired and prepared for your party," Misaki said, in a voice that seemed to float in the air, gently caressing each listener's ear.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Misaki," Emily said, smiling up at her. "Get down here and join the ladies."

The men stood around the edge of the pool, as Emily stood up and walked out, water dripping off her breasts and ass, her skin glistening with wetness.

"Emily, there are five men and six of us," Eva said, counting heads. "Who's going to be the odd woman out?"

Avery smiled. She knew what was coming. Nyla and Lucy weren't lesbians, by any stretch of the imagination, but Avery knew they both preferred women. Avery herself was extremely picky when it came to men who were not Jack, and she didn't think Eva was likely to participate in any kind of group sex without Jack there. Misaki was happy to do anything for a client, and she'd happily sit this one out if necessary. But none of that really mattered.

Emily barked a laugh and turned to look at Eva. "Eva, sweetie, these five are all for me! The rest of you bitches need to get your own," she added with a raised eyebrow, a half-grin on her face.

The look on Eva's face was priceless.

Avery smiled over at her girlfriend, a 'told you so' look painted on her features.

"Looks like this party is just getting started," Lucy said, a grin tugging at her lips.