Author's Note: I'm so sorry for how long it took to get this chapter finished. Real life has been incredibly busy lately. But please don't think I've lost any enthusiasm for these characters or lessened my desire to finish this book or move onto the next one! Please enjoy this smut-fest, where John gets sent a really lovely distraction by his girls as they make some very special plans.
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Reality came back and slapped us in the face after the party with Henry and Riley. Hard. The blackmail of Nikki at Infinity in Houston was unrelenting. The investigators had traced it back to her husband and two of his cronies. They were bad guys, plain and simple. They refused to back down, willing to expose and discredit Nikki and gamble that her husband and his church could take the heat. Her husband was steadfast in his position that he would simply throw Nikki out on the street, brandish her a whore, and expel her from his life. His bet was that the churchgoers would see it as an act of pure faith and pour even more devotion -- and, more importantly, more money -- into his ministry.
So Jess made the toughest call of her career. She shut down the agency's Houston branch. Gloria jumped at Jess's offer to come make a go of it in the porn industry with Daydream. Jen, the other traffic girl, floated the idea of interviewing for jobs in Vegas. She had become addicted to the sex, drugs, and money of the lifestyle and didn't want to give it up. Nikki and Julie, on the other hand, were torn. Nikki could accept her husband's offer to get in line and be a good little Stepford Wife. Julie wanted to be wherever Nikki was. They had developed a deeply passionate, intimate relationship. The question that remained open was how to maintain it.
So we waited to see what Nikki and Julie's fate would hold. In the meantime, the girls were eager to turn their attention to a long-overdue task, which we agreed could not be delayed any further. They were going to plan our wedding, and it was going to happen as soon as we could work out all the logistics.
Getting married always lurked in the back of our minds, but collectively we tended to get lost in the present. Our lives had undergone such drastic changes over the past few years, we felt like it hadn't slowed down enough to pause and take care of this formality. Even if it was just a formality, it was also an essential commitment and symbol each of us wanted. And we had talked generally, many times, about how we wanted our wedding to be. It was simply time to prioritize it and take action.
Details fell into place quickly. The girls had a good idea of how they wanted this to play out. But timing also had a central role in scheduling. It was going to be impossible to gather everyone important to us during football season, so we settled on a very small ceremony, while having a mega-bash reception during the late winter or early spring. In some ways, this made everything easier. We wouldn't have to juggle a bunch of schedules. We could maximize the intimacy of the ceremony and then blow the doors off with a second-to-none reception after things had settled back down.
Bifurcating this monumental occasion galvanized the girls to plan part one. They knew immediately they wanted a destination ceremony. They also jumped right into dress shopping. It consumed them for weeks, to the point where I started working more just to keep myself distracted. As the search drew to a close -- and I was permitted exactly zero information about how it was going -- the girls took some pity on me and set up a surprise.
It was a Tuesday afternoon, with summer at its full stretch, and the girls crammed into a limo with two bottles of Champagne for another visit to Galia Lahav for wedding dress planning. I had taken the afternoon off because Jess had given me a cryptic, if explicit, instruction: if the doorbell rings, answer it.
About twenty minutes after the girls departed, as I savored some deep drags off a thick joint filled with the first harvest from Kat's home-grown weed, the doorbell did just that. I snuffed the spliff out temporarily and got up. I had the faintest beginnings of a nice buzz clouding my brain as I opened the door, and it took me a moment to process what stood before me. On the front step stood Kayla and Ginger, each wearing a double-breasted, beige trench coat that was buttoned up tightly except at the wide lapel. Kayla wore mirrored aviator sunglasses and had her blonde hair pulled back into a severe ponytail. Ginger had black cat-eye sunglasses perched on her nose, but I was drawn to her hair, which was up in pigtails. They both grinned mischievously at me, but Kayla spoke first.
"Excuse me, sir," she said, "but we smelled marijuana. Do you mind if we come in and inspect the premises?"
"Uh," I stammered. She had caught me off guard, then I realized I should play along. "Well, as you know, ma'am, marijuana is legal in California."
"We're not here for the weed," Kayla said firmly.
"Yeah," Ginger piped in, "we want the cocaine. A lot of it."
The pornstars took two steps inside the house and closed the door behind them. They stood before me, sizing me up. I did the same. With their trench coats, Kayla wore tall black Louboutin stilettos. Ginger wore knee-high, patent leather boots. In a choreographed move, they untied the belts on their coats, cocked their heads flirtatiously to one side, and slowly unbuttoned them. When they finished, they held the beige fabric closed around them briefly, and Kayla spoke again.
"John Cameron," she said, her voice dripping with a professional level of seduction, "welcome to your Daydream Fantasy."
In unison, Kayla and Ginger let the trench coats fall to the floor. My jaw went with them. Kayla was completely nude underneath it. I let my gaze start at her delicate neck, then sauntered down her porcelain-skinned body, lingering at her outrageously long, erect nipples, fit stomach, and settling on the smooth, inviting junction between her thighs. The only item out of place was the black Playboy bunny tattoo on her inner hip, an impulsive, youthful move from her days as a stripper before she got into porn. Ginger, on the other hand, wore a translucent, nude-colored bodysuit. It was like camouflage of her most delicious bits, giving just enough hint of mystery to make her as alluring as the bombshell Kayla.
They stepped forward, Kayla a half-pace ahead, the clear leader here. She put her hand on my chest and let her beestung lips come tantalizingly close to mine. Ginger approached me from the side, sliding a hand over my crotch and nibbling my ear.
"Your girls were very detailed," Kayla said. "So, seriously, get us the coke."
"I promise the coke is just the tip of the iceberg," Ginger whispered, her lips tickling my ear.
I let out a long, controlled exhale. The girls had set me up. I would have to thank them later. For now, I needed to play the good host. I would gladly suffer through it.
I went behind the bar and quickly produced a mirror and two straws, along with a carbon fiber card. I opened a grinder and was happy to find at least an eight ball already prepped and ready to go. I dumped it out on the mirror and put the setup on the bar top.
"You want to watch us chop it up, too?" Kayla asked.
I nodded.
"Such a fucking perv," Ginger said, her voice full of admiration.
"We love a fucking perv," Kayla said, as she artfully took the pile of cocaine and carved it into unabashedly thick lines like a true coke enthusiast.
As she worked, I relayed an abbreviated version of my college tale of falling in love with watching girls do lines.
"Believe it or not," Kayla said as she prepared to address the first line, "I didn't do coke when I was a stripper. I got into it when I started porn. It was everywhere. I don't think I've ever been on a set where it wasn't a blizzard. I'm a pretty easy-going chick, so I was like, sure, I'll try that." She paused just long enough to snort one large line, then continued. "But I guess what's weird about me is that I just consider cocaine part of work. It's just omnipresent, and I basically treat it like coffee."
I laughed and mentioned how, during their television days, Kat and Rita essentially treated coke the same way. Kayla kept her head buried in the snow, taking a second line but not passing the mirror.
"Well, I've got you both beat," Ginger said playfully. "I went to prep school. And when you get a bunch of kids with money together, you're going to get drugs. There was a lot of weed, of course, but the cocaine was a special treat. Looking back on it, the quality was pretty bunk, but it was fun. I loved being in the party scene."
"And you still do, sweetie," Kayla said, sniffing repeatedly to make sure the load of coke she had just inhaled stayed up her sinuses.
But then she bent over again and made eye contact with me. She pressed her naked tits against the top of the bar, emphasizing her magnificent nipples, which were fully aroused. My gaze darted between her tits and her face, not wanting to miss a moment of the action. My cock, teased so far, was now raging and out of control. This was another level of fantasy for me, something I had fantasized about as a much younger man, yet here it was before more. And way hotter than even my depraved mind could comprehend.
"Sorry, I'm going to be a greedy little bitch," Kayla said unapologetically.