The Erotichronicles V 02: Ch. 06-07

(This is a novel in three volumes, published elsewhere in 2019, revised for publication here. This is the second volume, titled THE DANCE GAME. You may need to suspend disbelief to an extreme degree, and brace yourself for a steady barrage of fantasy-level sex. This includes presenting the life-and-work conditions of women in adult entertainment as much more favorable, and lucrative, than they are in reality. All sex acts involve only people who are at least 18 years old. The corporate designation 'Eroti Entertainment' used in this story, is not real.

(At this point in the story, Gabe and Molly go to Las Vegas for a 'glamour' [adult entertainment] convention.

(Details are in the tags. This volume has 22 chapters, and will be posted here in ten parts. The third volume is about the same word length, and will also be posted in ten parts. The story began in Volume I, MEGA PLATINUM VIP, which has already been posted. Enjoy!)

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Chapter 6: I'll Show You a Wimp Posing as a Dom

***

Back and forth. Three sex scenes.

***

Saturday, December 8. From Gabe:

Figleaf 29 (as in the 29th year of this event) would officially open on Sunday, but partying began the night before, in hospitality suites. This was similar to a normal night in Las Vegas with no agenda or sponsorship. Hot women in advanced states of undress, raucous celebrations of nothing in particular.

Full disclosure: I attended Figleaves 24 and 27. I spent too much on extra fees for proximity to living, breathing porn stars. Only now can I think of it as 'too much.' At the time, I saw it as money well spent.

Molly and I went out to stroll on the Strip, away from the most obvious recording equipment. She was pleased because she didn't feel the need to wear a minimizer, amongst hundreds of women who had enhanced themselves up to or beyond Molly's endowment. My take was that we would be seen as an ugly guy hooking up with an escort, but I kept that to myself.

"This may sound weird, being we're in Sin City and all," Molly said, putting her hand in mine. "But is it okay if I invoke be-near-me-always on you?"

"Sure," I said, though I was a bit surprised.

"The only person here I'd be comfortable fucking is you. That's why I made a point of getting some outside boy fun the last few days."

I went over in my head the list of people who were here. "Marge and Henry?"

"I've gotten a vibe that they need to be left alone. They've been getting really serious lately, and this may be a mistake, but I have to leave them to work it out. They're grownups."

"I'll be on call for you 24/7," I said.

"Even if I text you in the middle of fucking Bella?"

"If you want, I'll save for you the spunk I would have deposited in her."

She wrinkled her nose. "Thanks for sharing, but I will allow you a reasonable time interval to finish and disengage. And please don't fuck anyone else in our room. I may need escapes, and decompression."

I looked at her. She didn't seem worried, or down. I asked, "What do you expect to have to do here?"

"Within Eroti's exhibit area, the TopHeavy zone includes a closed performance space. You get in by handing over tokens, bought from credit cards. That makes it private enough for us to go nude. The dances are limited, because of the space, and only about sixty people can get in there at once, so we have to keep the dances short and turn the crowd over. I do three dances each day, in a four-hour stretch. But there's more. At the end, I stay out there nude and answer questions for five minutes. All of that will be videoed, and made available to all of the sites involved in plugging TopHeavy and the franchising."

"Do you have to stroll in the open space?"

"In a string bikini. Just like the one in the swag bag. 'Top' printed on one boob, 'Heavy' on the other, 'Eroti' across the crotch. One size fits all, because strings. That could be fun, once I'm doing it. It'll be like what I do in a meet-and-greet, but maybe with body contact. I've done a whole lot more in the club's private space."

"And you think this might bug you after a while?"

"Maybe. But also, to do this right, I'm going to be flirting heavily, maybe teasing. I could get into quite a lather. And I want you to be the only one to benefit from that."

"I could wait in the room the whole time, and hire guys out there to flirt with you."

"You have your own schedule, Mr. Pornstar."

We had worked our way back to our base, Zenith Resort and Casino. It was a pleasant night, only starting to pick up some desert chill. "Let's explore the grounds," I said. She was agreeable.

Circumventing an entire property like this gives one a better idea of how it works. There's the employee entrance, there's a loading dock, there's the electrical transformer yard, there's an even bigger access for stuff to get in and out of the Figleaf exhibit area. And in the vastness of the parking lot, there was an RV park, generally catering to people who didn't want to spend for a sleeping room but would drop plenty of money in the casino, making it worth Zenith's while.

In the RV park we saw a fair number of corporate-looking trailers, likely used by exhibitors at Figleaf. And we saw that one of the trailers bore the logo DRFG.

"No surprise," I said to Molly. "I already knew that they're Figleaf's surveillance contractor."

"Did you know about this?" she asked, pointing to a spot between the trailer and the hotel.

I saw two men walking towards the trailer. They were youngish, clean-shaven, and wore white shirts, black pants, and plain black neckties. Exactly the outfit used by bartender/bouncers at TopHeavy and the other Eroti clubs. They pass-coded the door to the DRFG trailer, and entered.

"No," I said. "I didn't."

***

Sunday, December 9. From Molly:

Figleaf would open to the public at 3 p. m. At 2 p. m., all Eroti exhibit-connected personnel were mustered for a meeting in our space, a stretch of floor and furnishings larger than NewBurlesque. There was, in effect, an infield behind the ringed booths, displays, and tents, for product storage and personnel break areas.

There was a dais with chairs in the middle of the infield, to which arrived the people most closely in charge of Eroti's presence at the event: Andrea Lansing, formerly Tour Director but now in Donna's old job of Director of Live Entertainment; Cliff Remington, whose title of Director of New Ventures essentially meant TopHeavy franchising and fuck doll development; a couple other male suits involved with maintenance of the exhibit and employee break areas; and Mark Darrendahl.

We already knew most of what they said, if we'd been paying attention. Andie said that if we hadn't already downloaded our schedules to our phones, we should do so now. Cliff congratulated everyone on the rollout of the Carly Cummings fuck doll (which had happened on Friday), and said Carly would be doing a lot of events, alone and with her doll, with one hospitality suite providing access to rooms for 'test drives' of both Carly's doll and Bella's.

I paid closest attention--and recorded on my phone--what Mark had to say, because it was the most likely to have the greatest significance (if any at all). Here's the gist.

"Welcome to Figleaf. If you've worked this event for us before, you'll see something new: TopHeavy in Vegas. This club has been a goldmine for Eroti lately, and the live performances will be in that space. Would the ladies from TopHeavy please stand?"

We did, to the accompaniment of applause and whistles, and Mark's "My God, I need a cold shower!"

He continued, "These ladies are obviously big stars now, but here at Figleaf we're all on the same team, so dancers, video performers, and booth assistants, who are also really easy on the eyes, should be good friends and make all of our visitors happy. TopHeavy babes, you may now sit, and save those zillion-dollar legs." He then made Remington his foil, looking at him and saying, "Hey Cliff, have you ever noticed that they also have legs?" Remington laughed supportively.

"Okay, to wrap up, we never intend to disrespect our gay-guy market, but if you've noticed, our gay exhibit faces on the opposite side, with its own personnel. So for those of you here on the non-gay side, what do we call visitors?"

Those in the crowd who felt the need, said, "Lovers of beautiful women."

"And how do we describe Eroti?"

Again from the crowd: "Where fantasy becomes ecstasy."

"Let's open this show!" he yelled. Up rose a cheer, and then people began filing out, some with workdays about to start.

Nothing illuminating (or damning) in what Mark said. If anything, he was more obnoxious in the Carly doll rollout, which was set up the same as the one in August for Bella's doll. The video on Eroti's main site showed Carly, naked, doing her whole raunch queen routine with Mark, rubbing her ass against his groin, dragging his face onto her boobs, high-kicking to set a heeled foot to his face, ad nauseum. Never to be outdone, he went along with this and gave back harder, grabbing her hips to thrust at her ass, grabbing the boobs and slobbering on them, pulling off her heel and sucking her foot. At one point he had to say, "Folks, the doll can't do all of this." Carly, ever the marketing genius, added, "But it's just as juicy as I am," and she stuffed fingers into her pussy and then licked them.

Gabe and I (watching after our wake-up fuck this morning) couldn't tell if these antics helped sales or hurt them. During the event, 19 dolls sold at the introductory price of $15k. These were comparable to the initial sales of Bella's doll.

Gabe gathered me into his arms and kissed me deeply. I never need a reason for that, but I still asked, "What, did that turn you on?"

"Just the opposite," he said. "I want to remember about happy sex."

I slid under him. "As opposed to silly sex."

"Silly could be fun," he said, moving a hand down my torso. "That was more like dumb and obnoxious."

I grabbed his prick and held it steady, so he couldn't move. "So you won't have anything to do with Ms. Cummings while we're here?"

"Okay, I never said that. Should I avoid her?"

With my free hand I took the back of his head and brought his face close. "And I never said that. Just use condoms, and do it somewhere else." I kissed him and rubbed his dick against my clit. This became a very nice second wakeup fuck that helped us avoid calling room service, and limited us to a breakfast of healthy stuff we'd brought here.

I guess there's no telling when this might strike, but when we finished fucking he got all teary-eyed about how lucky he was to be with me. Which got me going that way too, but by the time we were in the shower I had set the over-under of how many other women he'd fuck on this trip at six. (Over them, under them, behind them, etc.) Ah, Vegas, land of the prop-bet.

I've let the timing of this get a bit confusing. Back to the exhibit hall, Sunday afternoon. When it opened, my first task was to walk the rest of the floor in my TopHeavy bikini and get attention for Eroti. Marge Catalano assigned us in teams of two, so we could look out for each other in case people got stupid. I was paired with Ginger X (Giselle). We referred to ourselves as Red and Redder.

Maybe anywhere else, the two of us with more than ninety percent of our bodies exposed would get immediate and lasting male attention. Here, we had to work at it, amongst body-painted nudes, studded-leather dominatrices in thigh-high boots, pierced princesses, and entities of unclear gender. Overcoming our relative wholesomeness, we drew good-sized crowds, handing out brochures and tokens (which we stored in thigh-garter pockets) and letting people know when we'd dance and go starkers. A single token wouldn't be enough to get one in to watch a dance, but it provided a discount.

We didn't have bouncer escorts (odd, given what Gabe and I had seen yesterday), so we worked out how to address the inevitable question on the reality of our breasts (Giselle, with a cup size that is either DD or E depending on the bra-maker, is as natural as I am). If the guy was sober and not obnoxious, he would be allowed to let one of us take his hand and, upon a promise of keeping said hand limp, press the hand against the outside of one breast. This worked out fine, didn't cross any of the event's stated public-space boundaries, and gave a tiny thrill to the guy and sometimes (never admitted) us.

Giselle eventually asked me, "What's Gabe doing this week?"

"Several things. He'll promote his vids. There'll be a Q&A where he expects to be asked his secret for long and repeatable erections. Today he'll do a walk-around vid for Mitzi Maxima's webcast." Mitzi had been comped here to do her show. She might spend some time around the TopHeavy space, but wouldn't dance.

In a low voice, with nobody close by, Giselle said, "If you two are interested in a three-way, I'd be available."

I had been expecting, and kinda dreading, this offer from her--but now that it had been voiced, I found that I didn't mind it. I smiled. "Maybe." I was amused by Gabe's report of her rough treatment of him. Mmmm, yeah, as I looked at Giselle and her freckles, it didn't seem like a bad idea at all.

"I gotta ask, though," I said, hoping mics wouldn't catch this, given the hall's ambient noise, "How do you swing?"

Her mouth tightened to a thin line, but her eyes seemed to sparkle. She looked away. After we took a few more steps, she looked at me again and said, "I've always been really happy, just me and my husband. When he asked to bring in another woman, I got mad at first, and felt inadequate. But he kept sweet-talking me, saying how much his love for me would always grow, and I gave in. Besides, that was how I was able to run off with Gabe."

She stopped. I pushed. "And?"

She giggled. "I really liked it! More than I admitted."

And now I was all the way turned on, but also worried about what this might do to Giselle's marriage. "Let me think about it some more," I said.

"Okay," she said. Then she saw someone to chat up for TopHeavy, and I got back to work also.

***

From Gabe:

Mitzi put the cam band around my head. "You've used this kinda thing before, right?"

I nodded. In the monitor, this showed as no motion at all, thanks to image stabilization. "Most of the pornos I've done."

She handed me a mic headset, which I set in place. "Everything's on. Just walk around and talk to people. We'll edit and shoot an intro later."

Violet Bresnahan, raucous and raunchy in her persona as Mitzi Maxima, was all business on content development for her web show. "I know a couple booths that might be interesting. If you don't get them on your own, I'll send you there later."

"Cool." I started off, but she grabbed my sleeve.

"Think you can be nice to an old lady? My room, ten o'clock?" Vi was forty-six and a bit weather-beaten, but her proportions were quite alluring and she didn't lack for energy. I was no longer the guy who would get hard at any suggestion of sex from any woman, but I definitely liked the idea of giving Vi a tumble.

I smiled and shrugged. "If that's where I have to go to give you back the equipment."

She laughed. "Yeah, that's it!" She smooched me, carefully avoiding the mic set.

It was early evening, and the exhibit hall was drawing big crowds. They were mainly looking for hot pornstars, or to gawk at the freak-show aspects of far-out sex. In the brochure I'd seen a few booths that were interesting, in an abstract way (not as something that turned me on).

I began at a booth labeled Christian Compatible Sex, Inc. Here, a thirty-ish couple, good-looking in a northern-European way, offered videos said to display biblically-acceptable sex practices and positions. I observed what was on a loop on a flatscreen. It showed the same two people having sex in 'tasteful' soft focus that nonetheless showed every genital contact in detail.

She was lean and limber, with a trunk that showed no obvious signs of childbirth. He was in good shape, though I wondered if his abs were accented by eyebrow pencil. I judged them now to be maybe five years older than they were in the video.

The woman told me, "We also provide ways for one partner to help the other become more capable and willing." She fingered a remote, and the scene jumped to show her slowly stroking his penis. "In our doctrine, a clear reading of the Bible indicates that the sin of Onan was not masturbation, but either premature ejaculation or coitus interruptus."

The man added, "While we always encourage marital fidelity, there are clearly circumstances in which either partner may seek other options, such as with infertility."

I found that my questions were forming at just the right time. Maybe I could be good at this. "How long must a couple be infertile before they could resort to this?"

Quickly the woman said, "Two menstrual periods with no birth control."

"But even then," the man said just as quickly, "Birth control should be used in the early stages with a new partner, while that person's suitability is decided by both husband and wife."

Given their defensive undercurrent, I asked, "Is this doctrine of yours accepted by other Christians?"

The woman smiled, perhaps wearily. "The Almighty has made us thinking creatures, so that by our disputes, we may progress to the truth. We are not the first to embark on a struggle such as this."

The man handed me a brochure. "We hold retreats several times a year, to provide instruction for couples who need more than our videos." He looked straight into my forehead cam and said "Details are available at christiancompatiblesex. com."

I moved on, and spent time at so many booths that I began to lose track of how many kinks were popular enough to merit the spending on exhibits here. Most of what I videoed there might not survive editing, but there were two--on opposite sides of the hall--that I thought would be winners. The first was Dungeon Design Solutions, LLC.

The booth was made to look dark and forbidding, but not as much as the bondage exhibits were. The dungeon wall mockup was part of the demonstration in what was mostly a standard trade show booth, staffed by sober professionals in matching, logo-embroidered polo shirts. One staffer had me put a hand on a surface made to look like ancient grouted stone, and said, "Climate control programming can be adjusted to provide the user's preferred hardness and clamminess. Manacles and other suspension devices would be anchored to the composite substrate underneath, which is tested to 800 pounds." He then showed me CAD videos whereby the user could design and add elements through mouse-clicks. "We're happy to customize for the user who desires this, but our value line includes many complete designs available off the shelf."

I was sure that this would contrast nicely with DIY Dungeons, Inc., where three earnest, hefty young men offered books, videos, supplies, and equipment to support the hands-on dungeon development experience. "How can you ever make a sub fully compliant if your dungeon is some cookie-cutter run-of-the-mill dive?" said one of the men. "Building it yourself gives you pride of ownership, and that generates the confidence as a dom that will carry over to everything you do in your dungeon."

I only had to push a little to make this sizzle more. I didn't have to name names. "There seem to be less strenuous options available here for dungeonmasters."

"Yeah, right!" hooted one of the other men. "As if a true dom is looking for something less strenuous! Show me anybody who hires a CAD outfit and I'll show you a wimp posing as a dom!"

The third man, by comparison a calm sort, said "A DIY dungeon can even allow subs to be involved in the development. We're more than happy to support the safe-word crowd. Also, on slack days, a DIY provides an ideal setting for your gamer group."

When I was done, Vi was in fact still at her table in the Eroti space. She took back the gear and said, "Let's have a look." (So much for that excuse to get to her room.)

"Okay if I step out for a second?"

"Sure, sure," she said, focusing on jacking the feed into a monitor. Her hair, blond/black streaked, was fairly short and clipped back, maybe not the best choice for a woman with large facial features.

I texted Molly: WHERE U?

In less than a minute: BKSTAGE. U?

MITZI'S TBL. TALK?

I'LL B @ CURTAIN.

Thanks to my credential I was able to go through the infield to the back of the TopHeavy In Vegas tent. Molly smiled at me in her short-dance outfit, black lacy bra & panties, patterned stockings, garter belt, heels.

I was of course delighted to hug her, but I stayed focused while erecting, murmuring in her ear. "Vi would like some whoopee from me at ten. You have plans?"

"No," she returned. "And I think I'm going to be gassed. Under the lights, it's really hot in there. Plus there was a lot of strolling. I'm gonna want the two-hour backrub."

She brought her head around to mouth kiss, and then did that face-kiss thing that's really getting to me emotionally, but she wasn't done talking. She switched to my other ear.

"Giselle has offered a threesome. I like the idea, but I'm worried. What do you think?"

My dick pushed against her hip. "You can tell how I feel, obviously. What I think is that I, too, am worried. Maybe we should talk with her first."

"I'll try to set that up." Then she mouth-kissed again and vanished back into the tent.

Among the people hanging out in the inner space was Marge Catalano. She smiled and said, "It's a good thing I like you two, otherwise that would have been nauseating."

I recalled having found, watched, and jerked off to her dance videos from twenty-several years ago. I gave her a look and a voice tone that I'd never given her before. "I wouldn't want you to feel left out."

Her eyes widened. "Whoooa! Down, boy! I don't want the redhead mad at me!" This was all in fun, but I think it got to her.

Was I actually interested in Marge? As in, jumping into bed with a middle-aged woman who was now well past two hundred pounds? I couldn't honestly say no. But it was probably best to keep this at the fun level. In response to her reference to Molly and 'The Mad,' I said, "That's a really good point," and moved on.

Vi was still looking through the cam-and-mic feed when I got back to her. She stopped long enough to grab a bigger cam and pose me with the bustling exhibit in the background, where I did five takes of "Hi, I'm Gabe Morton at Figleaf 29. Let's take a look around."

Then she held out her phone, and I brought out mine. "Passcode for entry from ten to ten-fifteen." She hugged me and tongue kissed, and wrapped a leg around mine. "Luv ya Babe." Then she dismissed me and resumed going over the feed.

In the distance I heard Marge's voice: "Now that was nauseating!"

***

While I knew Marge's dances, I'd never looked into those of Mitzi Maxima, and she was still dancing at TopHeavy now, part-time. When my phone let me into her room, she remained in the jeans and loose blouse she had worn earlier, and had taken off her makeup. And also, in that moment, her brassy persona.

"I can use a lot of what you shot," she said. "Nice work."

"Glad to hear it." She was sitting on the suite's sofa. I sat next to her.

"You really don't have to do this," she said quietly. "It's sweet of you, but I was wrong to put you in that spot. Both as a boss to an employee and as an old lady begging for pity."

I nodded. "Thank you for saying that, Vi, I appreciate your consideration. Now I invite you to put your hand in my lap."

She cocked an eyebrow, looked at my crotch, placed her hand there, and assessed the rigidity throughout its length.

"That's for you, Vi, if you want it. Or you can tell me to get lost."

"Heavens no," she said, smiling, "please fuck my brains out."

We undressed each other, getting progressively sillier. "Pick me up, King Kong!" she yelled, voice raspy. "Drop me on the bed!"

I did, maybe more easily than she expected. "You don't have to put on the Mitzi act," I said.

"Act, shmact! This is me having fun!" She pulled me down next to her. "Punk kid, you never saw me in my prime. I'd have guys doubled over laughing and jizzing their pants at the same time! If Molly now is a 10, Mitzi then was a solid 9."

"I believe it," I said, burying my face in her F-cups. Then I gasped. "Where would you like me to go off first?"

"Pussy, idiot! What part of 'fuck' didn't you understand?" She got flat on her back and spread her legs.

I was set to enter gradually, but she was slick and wide. She clenched when I inserted fully, and I expanded more. Her head jerked back.

"I'm gonna get you messy," I wheezed, starting to piston, "but then I'll keep going."

"I know all about it, y'monster," she said. "I rub out to your vids."

Right on the brink of blasting, I said, "Sorry I haven't been on your show yet." Then I fired my first shots and the thread of conversation was lost for a while.

Like Amina (Valindra), Vi was definitely fleshy, but the extra was well distributed. Her gut was rounded but slimmer than her hips or her bust, and her legs were toned. The face wrinkles seemed like smile lines. Her implants felt a bit rigid, either because of what was used when she got them or from the many years they'd been in her boobs. The breast flesh itself was supple, and her nipples warm and responsive. If she chose, she could put on makeup, style her hair, and dress up so as to floor any straight male.

I hugged her and kissed her neck while swiveling and grinding against her. She bucked hard when she came the first time, but said, "Ohyeah, more faster, damnit I knew I should have fucked you in the private room, to hell with the rules, and ohgod another one!"

Eventually she continued on the topic of her show. "It's all just fun. We sit there naked and talk dirty, and in the VIP extra we fuck. This is what we all wanted to see, in my day. A TV talk show with naked people fucking, and talking about it while they fucked."

All? In Mitzi's 'day,' viewers would have abandoned networks and locked in on MTV.

"Features, like the one you did, make for some nice variety," she said among shortened breaths. "But everyone watches for the naked bodies and the dirty talk, and some pay to watch the fucking. You gotta come on the show for real."

I was loving the feel of her, inside and outside. "You're convincing me."

"Roll over, I want on top," she said. I complied. I was now at maximum size and hardness. She squirmed a little to take me the rest of the way in. "Ohhh sweet Jesus! And you've almost kissed the Michelin man goodbye." She squeezed my chest, tried to knead it with her fingers and didn't get far. "A steel slab. You were already insufferable. Now you will literally have pussies outside the door taking numbers. I've only had two orgasms, I want at least three more. I may never get another chance."

She was a tigress, as well as a dancer. There are women twenty years younger who would have swooned away much earlier. I was up to the challenge, loving her every way she wanted to be loved, eating her pussy after I had dumped two loads in it. I don't know if she got five orgasms in all, but she was very slack and happy afterwards. After the shower she asked me for a few minutes of naked hug time under the covers.

I asked, "Are your old videos anywhere on the Eroti sites?"

"I'll send them to you," she murmured. Then she laughed. "There's this really great one from '02. I was a free-lancer, but a really big name. A private party. The launching of Mark Darrendahl's yacht."

She probably felt my loss of relaxation. I whispered, "DRFG does the surveillance in this hotel."

Now I felt her loss of relaxation. Still murmuring, she said smoothly, "Now, the one in '04, that was probably my best athletic dance, if you're into that. The really funny stuff, with me writing jokes instead of just riffing, started in '05. That whole time, I was a total cupcake."

"I definitely want to be stimulated by them," I said.

We continued in that vein for a couple more minutes, then I dressed and we kissed and I went off to massage Molly.

***

From Molly:

I was writing when he got to the room. I observed the policy I insist on, saving to a flash drive and deleting from the laptop. Then I shucked the robe, went gut-down on the bed, and submitted to his massage.

After a couple minutes, I said, "What I need most right now is your fifth limb." So much dancing, flirting, and yes, exhibitionism. Sitting nude in a small space, answering raunchy questions from total strangers. Even an exhausted sex kitten wants sex.

"Let's try this," he said, letting go of me long enough to strip. He got us into our preferred version of doggystyle, my knees apart, his knees slightly under me, my trunk down, his prick matching my tunnel by entering at a 45-degree angle. He reached around to set a hand against my sternum, holding me steady, while he worked over my back with his other hand. He fucked me smooth and steady, and again while I was on my back with my legs up so he could massage those muscles, and my feet. I have coined a new term for what I think I felt: musclasm. I may have had three of them.

I woke up around four in the morning. He had wrapped the bedspread around us. Spunk had oozed out of me onto him and the bedspread. I felt completely wonderful, but dutifully roused him and got us through a shower and normal nighttime preparations. I still felt wonderful when we got under the remaining covers. And while I was intrigued about what he whispered in the shower about Mitzi's videos, I still slept like a mineral deposit.

***

Chapter 7: No Off-Switch

***

Still in Vegas. Gabe and Molly cum three times each together, Gabe cums three times with another woman who cums three times, Molly cums three times (?) with another man who cums three times (?), and in a three-way, Gabe, Molly, and another woman each cum three times.

***

Monday, December 10. From Gabe:

For a few seconds after I woke up, I wallowed happily in my proximity to Molly, while staying out of contact as she slept. Then, rolling my mind through the things I was supposed to do today, I got to the 2 p. m. Q&A session where I would sit on a dais with other Eroti performers, and talk about what I do in porn--and suddenly I was wide awake, and worried.

Fortunately, Molly is a sound sleeper. I slid out of bed, got my phone, and snuck into the suite's adjoining room while calling Hannah Weinstock. She picked up as I got into the second bathroom and closed the door.

I heard, "Hi, what's up?" She sounded impatient.

"You got some time right now?" I said, voice low but maybe audible to surveillance.

"Gotta do my hair. I'm Calypso all day, have to make the world desire me and my ass."

The women here, of course, must work relentlessly on their appearance. Even more than they do in the rest of their lives. "Can you spare a few minutes?" I said, verging on babbling, "Take a walk outside? I'll get you back quick."

"Oh," she said, maybe getting the drift that I was freaked out and paranoid. "Okay. Meet me at the main entrance."

Hotels still had courtesy telephones and paper notepads. I left Molly a note.

Weinstock and I were most of the way down the access drive when I switched from small talk. "Sorry about this, I want to avoid the surveillance in there. I'd like to get our stories straight about how I got into porn."

"Why?"

Yeah, this wasn't something for her to worry about. Most of the time I didn't think about the video of me and Tomiko and Morima either, but whenever I did, I knew there existed the danger of old dominoes falling, and TopHeavy people being charged for prostitution. "You found out about me by seeing a video I don't want anyone else to know about."

She straightened up a little as she walked. "Right."

"I don't want that to get mentioned at the panel today, or ever."

"Got it." We walked a little more. Then she said, "This'd go much easier if what I say is actually true, as far as it goes. I'd say that I found out about you. Separately I'd mention that I always try to find local porn prospects. I brought you in for an audition. The rest is history."

I nodded. "That's good. But does it explain how you went from being an indie to suddenly getting bankrolled by Eroti?"

"Shit," she said. She looked at me. "You realize we're not going to get grilled by investigative reporters, right?"

"I don't want to leave anything to chance." Life was great right now for Molly and lots of other people I cared about. The event that made that happen still might bring it all crashing down. "I can't even say that Remington got word about me from private room stuff, because that's also outside legality."

Weinstock wasn't as familiar with everything that happened. She asked, "Did you also go home with Molly that night?"

"Yes," I said, and couldn't help smiling.

"Then just edit out the video. Molly propositioned you before any of that happened. You went home with her, she saw what you could do, and word spread."

I gave that a thought. "This is what I needed. A scriptwriter. Yeah, I'll just say I got really lucky with a dancer at TopHeavy. I'll decline to name names, but anyone who cares would figure out who."

"And if anyone asks why Eroti started using my work, I'll say that I'd been sending samples in for a while and I was given an opportunity. Also true, as stated."

I routed our walk back towards the entrance. "You're a genius," I said. "I can brief Molly on this without tipping anything to DRFG."

She looked puzzled.

"The surveillance contractor. I owe you, Hannah."

"You sure do," she laughed. "I made you, Morton, and I can break you."

"Don't I know it. You want something really out there? I could be your sub, sometime."

"Oh no, what we do right now I like just fine. But man, getting a call from you this morning was the last thing I needed. I was afraid you wanted sex. I wouldn't have had time for hair and makeup." She looked me up and down. "Crap. You free after the panel?"

I got out my phone and checked. "Yeah."

"How'd you like to do me in all my pornstar magnificence?" She got out her phone.

I had only a vague idea of Molly's schedule. "That's a qualified Hell Yeah. I'll let you know soonest if there's a conflict."

"Cool," said Hannah. She sent me her passcode.

We were just inside the entrance, within the white noise of the casino. "I gather we don't care if surveillance picks this up," she said. She grabbed me, kissed hard, and smacked my butt. Then she strolled off, smiling. My prick tried to follow her.

***

From Molly:

Wakeup fuck, workout in the hotel gym, and a shower, where Gabe filled me in on his walk with Hannah. I told him I'd have an early shift at TopHeavy and then spend the night in meet-and-greets in the string of TopHeavy hospitality suites. So I was fine with him banging Hannah while I took a nap, and then banging me later to give me poise for hours of sashaying and lounging in an evening gown. That seemed like it ought to work.

Except during the Q&A after my second dance, there were four hot guys in the crowd, fucking me with their eyes (like all the other men there, and I think all five women). I allowed my legs to part, just to keep friction from making things even tougher on me. I think my clit swelled up, but that might not have been noticeable.

When the talk was done I went right to a portapotty (one that at least had fresh water, soap, and flushability), and got myself off on two fingers. That helped, but I was still pretty messed up. I put on a t-shirt and shorts and went to the Eroti infield. Marge was there. I sat next to her.

"That's a loud group in there," she said, approvingly.

I grabbed her hand. "One more dance. Could you, like, help me out afterwards?"

She frowned. "Really, Honey?"

"God, did I really say that? I'm sorry, Marge. But it's so hot in there, and, wow."

"It's not just the heat. This place is full of pheromones. I know, human pheromones have never been identified, but that doesn't mean they don't exist. Attendance might be ten thousand today, and everybody here is either selling second-hand sex or buying it."

I looked out at what I could see of the rest of the hall, beyond the Eroti infield. Then I noticed something within the infield itself. A group of men, limbering up. Well-built. Attractive. FAMILIAR.

"Who's that over there?"

"The Ramblers," said Marge. "Eroti just signed them. They're doing shows there on the gay side, and then they'll tour. We're trying to get them for WorkingMen."

"The Ramblers," I said, almost inaudibly. "I, uh, really like them."

She looked at me wickedly. "Especially Harold, right?"

And then I saw him. Harold Wells. Long sandy hair, blue eyes, carved body, effortless movement. Maybe the only man on Earth who didn't look ridiculous while dancing nude with an erection. Set proudly on a hairless crotch. The fact that he was wearing tights right then didn't matter, I had his videos memorized.

Once, when Gabe and I were in our very early stages, we had shared our porn preferences on his flatscreen. Gabe had dutifully eaten my pussy while I swooned at the sight of Harold.

I found myself with my thighs clamped together and my butt almost out of the chair. I had to do something. Even if it was stupid.

I got up and walked over to where the Ramblers were stretching their omigod muscles. I went to Harold and said, "Hi, Mister Wells. I've been watching you dance for years. I just want you to know that I'm a hopeless fangirl."

His eyes popped. "Wow, Selena! Gosh! It's great to meet you!" He grabbed my hand with both of his and pumped it. The other Ramblers noticed this and smiled.

I actually talked dancing with him for a while, almost settling myself down. He said he'd seen my dance vids, and he praised my technique, and I was no longer settled. My nipples almost tore through the t-shirt.

Even I thought that this was too much. "Well, I'll let you guys get ready. Watch out, it's really hot in these tents."

"Thanks for coming over!" He said. Was he actually panting? "I'd love to watch you, but they only want paying customers in the tents. Believe me, I'm a hopeless fanboy!"

Did I really hear that? My heart must have, because it sped up. I inhaled, bringing in his male musk. My loins went moist.

This was not a gay-only vibe I was getting from him. But could I trust my judgment right now? I moved in a little closer and said, "Maybe we don't have to be hopeless."

Another Rambler, the darkly handsome Clint Ruffin, leaned in and said to Harold with a smirk, "We can take care of your packing up." And all of them said, "As usual!"

Harold looked at me. "Really?" Definitely panting.

I said, "Where are you guys staying?"

Clint offered, "They have us jammed into two suites. Eroti says it's because they didn't have time--"

"No prob." I fumbled out my phone and held it up to Harold. "Here's my passcode. I should be there by three-fifteen."

"Omigod!" he said, just as fumbly with his phone.

When I got back to the TopHeavy area, Giselle had finished her dance and her Q&A, and was sitting next to Marge. Having bagged Harold, something I never would have thought possible, I was actually calm, almost. I pulled up another chair. Giselle looked as frantic as I'd been.

"In the hospitality suite tonight," I said, "We can talk, with Gabe."

"Good," she said, mopping sweat with a towel. "Right now, I could fall hopelessly in love with a broom handle."

Marge shook her head. "How are we going to get through the next three days?"

***

He got to my room about two minutes after I did. We said maybe one syllable each before we were kissing. So much went swirling through my head, including the realization that I wasn't the only one on an after-dance high.

We undressed each other in awkward yanks, standing, grabbing long-sought body parts, plastering mouths on them. I wanted to stuff his entire body into my pussy while stuffing my entire body into his mouth.

Amid this insanity I grasped enough clarity to say, "I have somebody! I love him." Then, because this was unclear, "I can't love you. I love him, not you."

We were already on the floor, fucking. He may not have heard me. I had at least three orgasms, so fast I couldn't tell them apart. His spunk spat out of my pussy onto the floor, as he kept jetting more in. And in that horrible moment, or hour, I couldn't remember who it was that I said I loved. Harold was my universe.

He was astride me, fucking my tits, spewing onto my chin, when some of my brain clicked, and I said, "Stop! Please!"

I got out from under him and found my phone. I had remembered who Gabe was. Did I have time to prevent hurting him deeply, maybe losing him forever? I texted PLZ STAY OUT LUV U XPLAIN L8R.

I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, crying. Harold sat down next to me and put a hand on my shoulder. "You okay?"

And now we were just two naked people in a hotel suite. "Um... I will be. I just got out of control." I smiled at him. "You were fine. But I shouldn't have done this." And I couldn't figure out why it had happened. An exhibit hall full of pheromones? Two dancers jacked on endorphins? They seemed like lame excuses. "Would you be okay, uh, just cleaning up and leaving?"

He smiled. "Sure. This was really intense. Maybe... some other time?"

I almost fell into his universe again. "Like I said, I have somebody."

"Okay." He kissed my forehead and got up.

I put on clothes without cleaning up. Once Harold was out of the room I texted Gabe: ALL CLEAR LUV U LUV U LUV U. Was I saying those luv-u's to him, or to remind myself?

***

From Gabe:

I had time before my panel to look in on discussions in the conference rooms above the exhibit hall, on legalization of sex work. I expected to do face-map searching of the participants, to see how these people were associated with other people, in Eroti or not.

In one panel, three men and two women sat behind a table on a dais. I listened a fair amount, and took notes, but mostly I took pix, and many of the notes were for putting names to faces (of attendees, as well as panelists).

Statements that struck me at the time were these: From a woman said to have been a sex worker, that protections for women in legal red-light districts in Europe were often flouted by procurers and not strongly enforced; from the other woman, a psychologist, that even where prostitution is legal, sex workers are routinely shunned in their normal lives; and, from a male entrepreneur, the importance of allowing pleasure-opposing and woman-devaluing cultures to retain these beliefs, to drive pleasure seekers from those cultures to find and pay for sex where it is legal (or condoned).

On then to my own panel, in Eroti's part of the exhibit hall. Luckily, almost nothing happened then that had anything to do with me. In addition to me and Hannah/Calypso, there were four other women (including Alyssa Amore, with whom I had done a vid), and one of the men with whom Calypso had performed. This happened in a tent with no admission but plenty of video promos, and some sales. With about ten minutes left, we made ourselves available for selfies. Incredibly, two dark-haired women (together, badged as attendees, not even in the adult entertainment business) got selfies with me.

I then went with Hannah to her room and fucked Calypso. As usual I showed no interest in her anus, and she was glad of that, saying, "That happened last night. I let a backer in the back door."

Which got a frown from me. "Hannah... you think you have to do that?"

"Not for myself, but I have a production company to support. In a perfect world, it'd all be done on merit. I know that we're doing good work, our vids have a big following. If I waste a few minutes of my life getting spanked and buttfucked, it's no great loss." She wriggled under me, making my dick expand in her pussy. "Getting fucked by my star performer is a lot more fun, worth wasting a lot of time."

"Who did it?"

She looked offended. "None of your business."

I apologized and kissed her. We hugged, and started again on mutual body happiness. Then I got Molly's first text, and I disengaged.

"You gotta split?" asked Weinstock.

"Just the opposite," I said, puzzled. "When do you need to get rid of me?"

"Eventually I'll have to glam up for tonight, and stroll in the hospitality suites." I was now on my back. As I set aside the phone she got on top of me and rubbed her boobs against my collarbone. "We can get dinner from room service. But first, weren't we in the middle of something?"

So we had one more happy fuck. We were showering when I heard the phone. I waited until we were done with each other, and dry, before I looked. I sent back OK C U SOON.

"Something you weren't expecting?" asked Weinstock.

I gave her a farewell nude kiss and hug. Smiling warmly, I said, "None of your business."

Entering our room, I was surprised to see wet towels on the floor. Molly sat on the sofa, wearing sweats, looking distraught. I rushed to sit next to her.

When I was able to draw it out of her, it was this. "I fucked a guy, and I didn't even know him, and I did it here, so I broke my own rules, and ours." She started crying. "But that's not the worst of it. I did all that because suddenly I didn't care enough about us, you and me! I just wanted this guy, more than anything or anyone." She threw her arms around me. "More than I wanted you!" She sobbed, and despite what she was saying I didn't think about this meaning that she could be dumping me. I just wanted, needed, to stop her pain, her heartache.

She wailed, "He's just a fucking stripper! Pretty meat I look at when I finger myself. He means nothing to me!" Then there was a longer crying jag, followed by, "He, should, mean nothing! Oh God!"

I had to say something. "I only want what's best for you, and for you to be happy." Suddenly I realized what I was about to say next. Despite greater terror than I had ever known, I said it anyway. "And I'd never try to stop your heart from going where it must."

She pulled back and looked at me, face screwed in hurt. A vision of ugliness to rival my own, and I never wanted her more. "My heart should be right here!" she rasped. "With you!" She lurched forward, putting her face in her hands. "What have I done?" She looked up again. "Gabe, I'm, I'm lost... I don't know what's real anymore."

The shirt I wore was, like twenty others, one she had picked out for me. Light green with white pinstripes, solid white collar. I unbuttoned it, removed it, and held it out to her.

And somehow this combination of the sentimental and the ridiculous got through to her. After a second of seeming not even to know what the shirt was, she laughed and took it. "That's right. You're my boyfriend."

She leapt to her feet and tossed away her sweats. About a three-second view of her wonderful body (and dried semen on her thighs and torso) ended as she donned the shirt. Then she bounded into my lap and yelled, "You're my boyfriend!" Happiness shone under the tracks of ruined eye makeup.

After some giggles and hugs, she drew a deep breath and looked at me, once again the calm and centered Molly Finneran. "Tell me something," she said. "When you're in the exhibit hall, how do you feel?"

"Very squirrely," I said in all truth. "I'm on the brink of jumping every woman I see, even though the dominatrices could probably kick my ass."

"So maybe it is a pheromone hot box in there."

More in the spirit of one polyamorist to another, she told me about Harold Wells, and how she watched his troupe's vid during our porn-sharing day (which I remembered), and how she had come out of the TopHeavy tent and seen the Ramblers, and went over to introduce herself, and found that Harold isn't completely gay.

"The sex was mind-blowing," she said. Indicating the towels on the floor, she added, "and pretty stupid. I don't know if I can say that he was a dynamite fuck. It's like Giselle said when she came out of the tent after her dance, that she could fall in love with a broom handle. My body had only one function, sex, and there was no off-switch."

I frowned. "I'm getting all conspiracy theoretical here."

She looked at me, also frowning. "So it might not just be everybody blasting out hormones?"

"On carnival midways, the smell of frying onions is gushed out intentionally, to make people go to concession stands." I said. "Just sayin'."

"This is already an event that selects for people who want more and better sex. Why pump aphrodisiacs into the air?"

"To impair judgment? Lower sales resistance?" I mentioned the two women who got selfies with me. They'd also bought sets of my vids.

"I don't know," she said. "There'd have to be more evidence than your girlfriend losing her mind."

I looked at her, kinda searching. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I feel like me, now. For a while there I didn't."

"So maybe all of what you and Harold were doing, dancing and going nude, made you more susceptible."

"Don't let me off the hook! What I did was bad. Yeesh, you should hit me with The Mad. I deserve it." She shuddered, and drew the shirt tighter around her, sniffing the collar. Her eyes widened. "Smell," she said, "No, this is just too freaky."

"What?"

"I want to believe that the act of you giving me your shirt brought me back. But what if it was your scent, counteracting whatever had acted on my sense of smell earlier?"

"In which case, I never had to bring you back emotionally. You were addled by one chemical, and restored by another."

Still sorting through this in her mind, she said, "You offering the shirt changed my mood. Could that have been before I picked up the scent?" After a moment, she leaned and kissed some of my facial nastiness. "This is emotional, more than sensory." Then she misted up again.

I'll yadda over the sniffly-hug stuff. Despite her inclination to beat herself up over what she'd done, we both got closer to attributing it to Outside Forces. We ordered a room-service dinner and got ready to become fixtures in the Eroti hospitality suites.

***

From Molly:

An entire wing of Zenith's seventeenth floor was given over to Eroti partying suites. The hallway was wide enough to add pop-up events here and there, with jugglers and contortionists and at least a dozen of the daytime booth assistants, now nude with glitter and spangles, beautiful women for the visiting lovers of same.

I was in my new violet evening gown with bright red trim. I had gone to the trouble to make horizontal-stripe rainbow eye shadow, because bisexual. I had my hair piled up tonight to rock some huge glittery earrings. On my arm, I was rocking Gabriel Morton, in a steel-blue suit with only a slight pleat to the pants. What happened this afternoon seemed like a goofy aberration, but it still had me worried. I was all, Hey world, this ugly guy gave me back to myself, however he did it, and you might get into his pants and ride that amazing boner, but when it counts, he's mine, bitches.

We found Giselle in one of the three suites devoted to TopHeavy. About the only business-oriented person was Henry Wexler, who showed floor plans and expense spreadsheets for what a franchised TopHeavy would be. Hovering around him was Diana (Galaxia), telling anyone who would listen that she was available to be lead dancer at a franchised TopHeavy. Many men did listen (or just nodded while ogling her).

I hoped to give Henry some party fun, but first we joined Giselle, who was in a cream-colored gown with silver glitter. She sat at a rakish angle on an oversized ottoman, and I did the same. Also in the suite at the time were Jade and Kittykat, showing plenty of leg and mega-plenty of cleavage, holding court to throngs, and I was all damn, we look spectacular. Gabe, sitting upright next to me, had a look showing that he agreed.

Gabe struck up the conversation. "So, Giselle, you and Molly are on the same shift all week?"

"Yeah," she said, hoisting a drink with an umbrella. "Red and Redder, joined at the hip."

I said, "We've got the late shift tomorrow." To Gabe: "True of you also, right?"

He nodded. "I've been asked to attend a product development demo."

"So we're all free tomorrow until three o'clock," I said.

"All right!" said Giselle, beaming.

I leaned in her direction, maybe giving somebody a view of my left boob to the edge of the areola. "Now, Honey, we're very interested in your idea, but Gabe and I have rules. One of them is, nobody gets hurt, and that includes people who aren't here."

"Oh, I agree. I'd never do anything to hurt my husband."

Right on cue, Gabe became the second bad cop. "Does he know what you're thinking about?"

"Not this in particular. But we've given each other permission to get wild while we're apart."

"This is happening a lot more with you two," I said. "Until that private room moment, it seemed like you were locked in as a couple."

She shrugged. "We're growing. Becoming more confident in our love. Like you two."

Gabe smiled and gave the ready riposte: "We're not married."

Quickly I said, "How wild has he been, so far?"

"A different woman each night," she said matter-of-factly. "If it were the same one every night, I'd worry." She leaned in, grinning. "He even helped me out today. I was so horny when I got back to my room, I face-timed him and he remote-zapped my vibrator. I came twice."

I glanced at Gabe. He shrugged. "Okay," I said.

Gabe held out his phone. "Here's the room number. Shall we say, eleven-thirty?"

***

From Gabe:

We strolled and mingled and got into various conversations, parting company now and then and reconverging. What people asked me about, mostly, was what TopHeavy was really like. I gave copious detail about what was entirely legal, and encouraged listeners to take advantage of the tour package Wexler had put together, covering Wednesday through Friday (Bella's feature through Selena's). I saw that Molly had finally gotten Wexler to relax a while. He was in a plushy chair with his feet up on a hassock, and Marquesa was massaging his neck and shoulders from behind, leaning her bosom waaayyy down close.

Marge was also in the room, glammed up in black drape and spangles. Molly called over to her, "Hey Marge, okay if I do this?" She freed a stockinged leg from her gown and bridged it over Wexler's lap, heel stabbing the chair arm.

"Only if he's taken his nitro pill!" said Marge, laughing.

"I'm good," he said with a grin, holding up his hand palm down and letting it vibrate. "Steady as a rock."

Later on, Wexler seemed down, maybe because he'd run out of potential investors to pitch. He was on a lawn chair on the balcony. I joined him. Before long the conversation went this way.

"Here I am, trying to make more of something that worries me constantly. I'm about done with the lying, and the lawbreaking." He shook his head.

"How so?" I asked.

He looked back in search of eavesdroppers. In a low voice: "I have been routinely bribing various individuals in law enforcement for years. As long as we maintain safety and never let penetration happen in private rooms, we're left to ourselves. Nobody gets hurt. But it's still illegal." He looked at me. "And your escapades could have gotten us locked up."

"Nobody was more against that than I was." The video, that is, and the possibility that it might go public. Of the escapades, I had been in favor.

"I know, I know. But what's stopping someone from bringing in a camera phone and blowing our cover?"

"Fordyce's security," I said bluntly. "Nobody gets to take in any electronics."

"Somebody could find a way around that," he asserted, though he could provide no examples. He was a lawyer, not a techie.

I had been doing lots of research on this lately, and spent hours in windy discussions, including the one this morning. "There's no headway yet to decriminalize prostitution, most places. Society has come around on same-sex marriage, marijuana, and casino gambling. So far, though, there's no vocal constituency for paid sex."

"Which is why I'm okay with sex dolls," he said, looking out on an array of hotels where many paid sex acts among humans were surely in progress. "It's just an extension of the legal market for what we choose to call marital aids and adult novelties."

"The women make a lot of money from private rooms," I said, treading on well-worn ground. "Some of them need it." I thought in particular of Marquesa Richards, with her two kids and her constant battle to get child support.

"So much of prostitution is poisonous," he said, going on his own track. "Pimps try to control the women's lives. Some keep the women as slaves."

"What those pimps do would still be illegal," I said. "Licensing for paid sex would only be allowed under a firm code of conduct and a workers' bill of rights. Some of the role that a procurer held, acting as a third party, would be less important. What's done in private rooms would meet all of the requirements under this system. A percentage of all payments for sex would go to efforts to stop human trafficking worldwide."

"You're a dreamer," he said, picking up a drink from the table next to him and downing it. He had nothing more to say.

***

Tuesday, December 11. From Molly:

The good-night fuck was really important. We were skittish, not sure what would happen, but we turned on to each other and it felt right. That lightened our load, and the wake-up fuck was fun. Yadda workout, yadda breakfast, getting kinda bouncy.

He asked if we should dress in a certain way, or act like hosts. That sounded silly, but I didn't know either. Giselle settled it by showing up dressed casual, as we were. And it didn't take long for us to stop being dressed.

She was most comfortable starting with Gabe in the middle, which of course was his preference. I made suggestions for her to mirror: kissing his neck and upper body, fingering his junk. He hugged each of us around the back, fondling down to our butts.

I wasn't going to force her into anything, but I hoped she'd loosen up to me. Having both her and Gabe there sent me through the roof, and it was tough to stay calm. He too was amped, and his prick was already rideable. But I said to Giselle, "Let's taste him."

She smiled and moved in to lick his shaft. I took his balls into my mouth, one at a time. Gabe moaned, but I could tell he was in good control, even as he thickened and lengthened. He fingered both pussies. Giselle started sucking, but in a moment had to start taking breaks for gasping breaths. I said, "Gabe, should our guest have first ride?"

"I'd like that just fine," he wheezed, although I think he was putting it on a little. I've observed his excitement levels, and with time he's become quite poised. He didn't have to blast, although he could if he chose.

"Yeah!" she said, laughing. She moved to mounting posture. I shifted to straddle above Gabe's head. He put both hands on my trunk and guided my pussy to his mouth, letting Giselle do everything lower down.

We kept that up for a while, both ladies getting at least as high as Gabe, who was rotating and grinding. I gave Giselle a willing, eager smile. She returned it. I reached for her boobs. Glory to Gaia, she reached for mine. Gabe is too tall for us to get closer, but this was hugely excellent, feeling her tits, her hands on mine, Gabe tongue-rolling my clit. I started to cum, in a nice steady build.

I thought, Who needs Harold? A distant mind fragment said, Need no, want yes. But that didn't kill the buzz.

Giselle's head lolled, and I saw her trunk flexing. "Yeah Baby, me too!" I said, and gave her left nipple a little thumb-poke.

"Gabe," she said, "let me know when Eroti brings out your fuck doll." She laughed. "Hubby has to sleep sometime."

My cumming went off the charts. "H-hh-haaaaaghh!" I panted a few times, then said, "G-gabe, your lady friends have, have reached max happy. Your fantasy can now become ecstasy."

He bucked up, jolting Giselle a little. He howled into my vagina. Her hands clutched on my tits, which felt great. She wailed, pistoning and grinding on him. Then she sagged, leaning forward. I embraced her. She returned it, and despite the awkward angle at which we leaned, she kissed me. I got a huge rush, and thought of all the times in the TopHeavy dressing room when I'd never touched her.

Still holding me, she lifted herself off Gabe and leaned to the side. I followed. We rolled together, hugging, kissing, legs intertwined, my hands getting as much tit contact as possible. I was about to cum again, and I would have been very happy with that right then, but I got my mouth free long enough to say, "Let's do this while I'm on his pole."

Gabe was toweling off his spunk, but he quickly yanked to approach full boner. I got astride him, and Giselle came in close, rising on her knees to give me her tits. I sucked nipples, freckles, nipples again. The second orgasm shook through me at once, and stayed. "Pleasesuckmine," I said to her. She did, even while gasping. Gabe was finger-fucking her. He swelled in me and came, jetting my cervix. I either came again while already cumming, or got vaginal or nipple along with clitoral. Don't know didn't care happyhappyhappy!

Eventually we disengaged and settled into a tri-hug, Gabe on the bottom. "So this is who I am," said Giselle, marveling or lamenting or both. It reminded me a little too much of what I went through during and after Harold.

"You're a great person, and you always were," said Gabe. Sappy, but to the point.

"Even when I throw you around?" Giselle laughed. "You're lucky today, I felt timid." she reached over to pull my head close and tongue-kiss me. I got tingles. Then she said, "I don't know if I want to fuck all women, maybe just Redder, here."

I had to say, "We have to be really careful in the exhibit hall. I did something yesterday I shouldn't have, and that's on me, but maybe the conditions in there weakened my boundaries."

She smiled. "I'll behave myself when we're bikini strolling. But, yeah, I get really horny in there, and it's an effort to focus."

"I'm going to get air samples from the vents," said Gabe in a barely-audible monotone. "I'm serious. I want a lab to see what's being pumped in."

Giselle said, "So maybe I was drugged into wanting this?"

"God I hope not," I said, nuzzling her tits.

Gabe cleared his throat. "Except for a fondle or two, I'm mammary-deficient so far."

That got all four boobs rammed onto his face with an implied danger of suffocation. Which might be his preferred cause of death.

We checked the time, and I decided we could get in a little more fun. I positioned Giselle and me at the end of the bed, each with a leg elevated so Gabe, standing on the floor in a squat, could fuck each pussy alternately while we quasi-tribbed with finger-enhancement. Then we gave Gabe a four-tit fuck. (He wrote nine pages about that, but I have edited them out. Suffice it to say that he enjoyed it a great deal.) Finally, because Giselle hadn't received any oral fun, Gabe and I both ate her out, and she really spazzed with two tongues on her big muscle-lady clit.

As nice as our suite is, the shower is a plain old in-the-bathtub model. The three of us had to move pretty carefully and settle for cleaning up. "Tonight at party time," said Giselle, "can you help me with rainbow eye shadow?"

"Sure," said Gabe. We laughed.

"Absolutely," I said. "But don't think you have to behave differently. Just be you. In a while everything will fit into place."

"Like this thing?" She said, holding up Gabe's manhood. "Hey, I forgot. Last time I said we should do some spanking."

We emerged from the shower with six reddened cheeks, but no damage done.

(To be continued)