Gaining the Goshawks & Introducing "The Slut Club"
RECAP: read the previous episode, the path to darkness continues.
Bruce was at his usual place and appeared quite self-satisfied. When I asked about the relative calm, he told me indeed my suggestion had been beneficial. He thanked me actually. I asked about the Goshawks...he said the dyke coach couldn't accept that there were no more rooms, no space, and she had to go elsewhere. She was freaking out and Edward was getting practice at public relations. The rooms were double-booked and the Goshawks had to go somewhere else.
I pointed to a cluster of three Goshawk women, clearly not players, that is not volleyball players, huddled together in the midst of the girls lounging and pouting still in the middle of the lobby.
"Who are they? The MILFs?" I asked, they were rounder, fluffier, plusher but Goshawk dressed the same as the girls.
"Sponsors. Rich bitches who are part of the college faculty...wives I think, not professors. They all offered us plenty of money, entitled, demanding. Cunts."
"Cunts should be fed." I muttered and sauntered over to the three women as had been my germinating plan.
END RECAP
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I had a flash of stepping through another door, or the same one again as I had just done with Pet. "I understand you all are out in the cold?" I said softly. "So to speak. Perhaps I can help, marginally." I kept my eyes focused on the imposing looking woman with the broad hips and blond aspirations but grained hair that made it look faux. Her eyes were somber, serious, almost harsh, all challenge and daring, daring me to do something.
They all turned to look at me, stilling whatever conversation had been in progress. None of them spoke. They just looked at me. One had curly black hair, the other was full unapologetic blond. They were all plush and rounded in a pleasant, curved sort of way but with the appraising eyes of experience that some women get and others never wanted. A screeching shriek from the redheaded coach across the way made the curly-haired brunette cast a glance in that direction. The true blond glanced at the gray-eyed wonder with the faux blond hair.
I waited an inordinately long time but none of them spoke. They displayed none of the eagerness of we underclass people who get by in life by trying to please and thus bribe with what we do possess namely charm, gratitude and obeisance. These were females of a different genus. I didn't out wait them, but waited only long enough to acknowledge that they had me at a disadvantage. I was out to alter that condition.
"I have room here, a suite actually. It has two bedrooms, oh, no, three, so six beds so still not enough but it's better than nothing. I might be able to offer it to you all, if you can find nothing else."
"Not likely we'll find anything, this town is room tight as a virgin's ass." The brunette snarled.
"Why would you do that?" Cool Eyes asked, matching my soft tone with her softer tone, ignoring her lurid companion.
"Because I can. I only took the room while my condo had some work done...they weren't scheduled to be done until Wednesday but I can see if I could move in early, let them work around me." A guy, young, at my age, with a condo, that told them a lie bigger and more important than my reference to work being done that was not being done so if it were done, when it 'twere done, it would be done already so, yes, 'twere well it were done quickly. Just so. "I am Sonny. Sonny Duncan. I am a student at the university in town. I gather by your duds, you all are here for the volleyball tournament?"
The actual blond nodded, smiling a little, glancing at the not-actual blond. "Yes, the tournament. That's so nice of you to offer, but I am sure we'll figure something out."
"Fuck that, take it." The brunette hissed. "We called every hotel within a hundred miles, you want to drive 2 hours every day to get to the games?"
Cool Eyes looked at her and when their eyes met, the brunette was abashed into silence. Cool Eyes returned her gaze to me. "Why would you do that? You still have not explained your largess."
"Every good deed is suspicious, eh, lady? Projection or the remnants of lost innocence. Thought I'd offer...but I get the suspicion, no worries, back to my luxurious suite then." In TV dramas the "walk-away" is used in every show, so much it is cliche and tired, but it is a cliche because it does work so often. I'd only taken four or five steps when Cool Eyes spoke again.
"We'd be happy to pay for the room." She said blandly, so blandly I wanted to salt her words, but of course I couldn't do that, so I salted my own, eventually. "Money is no object," she continued. The last was said a little primly. Too primly, bordering on conceited pride. Must be nice to feel that way about money. I doubt I ever would, but god, I'd like to try that out.
"I see. Let me check with Bruce to make sure that such an arrangement would not ruffle the official feathers or fluff up some administrative umbrage." I left them then and sauntered back to Bruce who was watching me, us, had been, I noticed when I sidled around to include him in my field of vision.
"Keep looking official." I hissed, as though he was going to break into avuncular bon hommie and clap me on the back. "To be honest, I am considering offering the poor little Goshawks my three bedroom suite for the weekend. No one would be offended by the gesture, do you think? Tramont or someone?"
Bruce shook his head. "No one will grouse, least of all Tramont." He gestured towards the screeching redhead with the broad hips and narrow waist. "She's been at Edward for twenty minutes and he's taking all she has to dish out. Tramont's been watching and wants no part of her!"
I nodded. "The coach, she has lots of practice I suspect. Yelling I mean. At the team, the referees." I glanced back at the MILFs. "I am surprised they haven't engaged you."
"Oh they tried. Money is no object they said, but I was strictly denied the option of taking any bribe to arrange the rooms, other things only. Tramont had that well in hand and didn't want anyone tangling it up. There are some VIPs who needed tending too, a convention in town, and the tournament...the combination of storm fronts was volatile." He looked at me then, nodding. "They did offer me blow jobs, one each, they said, if I could get them a room." His thin lips smiled thinly, barely a smile, but on his impassive face, jocularity, jocularity, jocularity.
I shook my head. "Not even a proper fuck?"
"I daren't hint and they didn't offer."
