F5: Bluetooth
(Author's note: This story is an entry into FAWC (Friendly Anonymous Writing Challenge), a collaborative competition among Lit authors. FAWC is not an official contest sponsored by Literotica, and there are no prizes given to the winner. Every story for this FAWC begins with the exact same line. Where it goes from there is up to the author.)
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Upon the table lay three items: a handkerchief, a book, and a knife...
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Gary dropped his tie in his open carry-all when he heard the brisk knock on the door. He flipped his lapels back down and went to answer, not bothering with the peephole or the security latch. Nobody was going to mug him in the MGM Grand and he was expecting the man who knocked.
Bruce was dwarfed by the doorway. Curly, mud-colored hair that was probably shockingly red when he was a kid, skin that never seemed to burn or even tan in the Nevada sun, plucked chicken legs sticking out from under his shorts -- Bruce. He'd been Gary's courier the last ten times he'd ordered from Fortitude and they'd struck up a cordial relationship, lubricated with generous tips.
"Mista James, Mista
James
, how you like that
heat
?" Bruce shook Gary's hand as he pushed past him into the room. They never talked business in the hallway. "Hot enough fer ya?"
"If I didn't want hot," Gary said, following him in, "I got on the wrong plane." Bruce had a black clipboard under one arm, which he always had, and a brown paper wrapped box, which was a first.
"Speakin' of hot," he placed the box on the foot of the bed, "looks like ya got the new one tonight. I ain't even seen one a these yet."
"Is that the book?"
"Huh?"
"Is that the book, from the e-mail? You know, 'Three items are on a table, a handkerchief, a knife, and a book?' That the book?"
"Nossir. This is somethin' diff'rent, but it is parta yer package. You wanna do th' necessaries now an' find out what part?" Bruce took a pen out of his pocket and held his clipboard up to read.
"Yeah, sure." Gary looked at the box. Something different? Before, Fortitude had always sent supplies for his fantasy scenes with the escorts. Once, when he'd needed a St. Andrew's cross, they sent it up with Bruce dressed as a hotel bellboy, the device folded up in parts under the skirt of a room service cart. Bruce began reading off the disclaimers on his clipboard.
"You unnerstan' yer participatin' in a Fortitude Ennertainment sensual adventure is voluntary an' agree you've updated yer Fortitude profile t' refleck any an' all changes in yer physical health?"
"Yes."
"You unnerstan' yer Fortitude Ennertainment sensual adventure has been callerbrated t' yer specific desires an' no services beyon' those which you've contracted to will be offered at this time?"
"Yes." The e-mail ad and description on the website had both been so vague that he didn't actually know what services he was contracting for, but this was just the red tape to get through before he got to have fun. There was a reason he paid the premium for Fortitude instead of just calling up one of the thousands of Craigslist hookers that worked the hotels of the Strip. Other than knowing he wasn't going to be knifed, they had some very inventive options. He thought about the most recent fantasy he'd added to his profile: going to the VIP room of a strip club with two strippers and ordering them to take turns fucking each other with a strap-on while he used their mouths and asses. Maybe a dildo and harness were in the box.
"You unnerstan' yer credit card will be billed th' full amount of four-thousan' an' nine hunnerd dollars an' this charge will appear as Eff Eee Industries?"
"Yes." At $4900, it was an upper-end package, but not the most expensive.
"You hereby remise an' release any an' all claims fer personal injury, pain, suffrin', an' wrongful death agains' Fortitude Ennertainment that may 'rise outta yer participatin' in this or any other sensual adventures?"
"Yes."
"Sign here, Mista James." Bruce ticked off the last box and handed him the clipboard and pen. Waiver signed, Gary picked up to box and tore at the paper.
Inside was a brand new smart phone and a Bluetooth headset. Gary's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Bruce laughed.
"Not what yer expectin', right?"
"I...no. No, it's not." Gary pulled the folded hundred dollar bill from his pocket and slipped it to the affable courier. "What the hell is this, phone sex? Come on, man, give me a hint. You've got to know what this means."
"Know you gotta cab waitin' downstairs t' take you t' yer nex step." Bruce walked towards the door, 'an' yer gonna get a phone call soon as I'm outta th' room. Better answer it." He dropped into the corporate goodbye before he got out the door. "Thank you again fer usin' Fortitude Ennertainment, sir, an' have a sensual adventure t'night."