The Party Planner

First Day

Jon woke up to the sound of his phone buzzing off the nightstand. Through blurry eyes, he could just make out a string of messages from his girlfriend.

Well, former girlfriend. He and Claire had changed the settings on their relationship to friends-with-benefits about a year ago, when it became painfully obvious to them both that they were on different tracks. She came from money. She had real friends. She had a good job at one of the big banks that was supposedly taking her places. He, on the other hand, was a loner who wanted nothing more than to brood in sad diners, scribbling in sad notebooks, dreaming of the Pulitzer that would never come. But the sex had been good -- great, even -- and it just made no sense to throw the baby out with the bathwater. So whenever she was bored she would call, and he would go to her doorman building and fuck her loud and hard, much to the annoyance of her roommates.

Given all that, Jon was expecting to read yet another hookup request, but he was wrong.

hey

where've u been?

hellooo?

Terry's having a party at his place in wburg sat. u shld cum

lol i mean come

i miss you

He stared long at his phone, wondering if he wasn't reading a sweetness into her words that wasn't there. He hadn't heard a sentiment like that since the break-up. Everything since had been so transactional. Jon kept rereading the texts, overthinking his response, when an incoming call put an end to all that. It was from an unknown number, but something told him to answer it anyway.

"Good morning, sleepy head," the voice said. It took him a moment to realize who it was. "I'm sending a car to pick you up in, oh, about twenty minutes. Can you be ready by then?"

"Um, sure," Jon replied. He asked her how to dress and instantly regretted doing so.

Barbara laughed. "Nothing at all, as far as I'm concerned. No. Just do you. You're going to the warehouse and there's no one to impress there."

Jon put down the phone and took a few moments to reflect on his so-called interview with Sean and Barb, replaying every thrust, every gyration. Without thinking, he reached down beneath the sheets to play with himself. He rubbed his cock in a daze until it was almost convinced he meant business, but something told him to keep his powder dry. He had a big day ahead of him and, given his employer, there was no telling what he would be asked to do.

The limousine pulled up to his run-down brownstone just as he hit the curb. A short, well-dressed slob stepped out of the driver's seat and nodded at Jon. It took forever for the driver to walk around the limousine and open a passenger door in the back. The first thing Jon saw were the unmistakably long legs of his boss. A fiendishly happy Barb leaned forward to reveal herself, as if he had just found her in a game of hide-and-seek.

"Hiiii," she sang as she patted the seat next to her. There was another woman in the car across from her on the rear-facing seat. Like Barb, she was dressed in what, to Jon, looked like very expensive business attire. She only briefly glanced up from typing messages on her phone as he slid past her to take his appointed place.

"This is Vera," Barb said. "She does all the work I'm supposed to do."

"Can't argue with that," Vera said. She had a British accent. Vera reminded Jon of a Rockette: she was tall and fair, with shiny black hair pulled tightly back into a bun. She was beautiful in a way that made it hard to distinguish her from other women of her type. He smiled at her but she was already back to her phone.

Jon watched his brownstone disappear from view as the limousine pulled away from his old life. "I thought you were just sending a car for me," he said.

"I did!" Barb protested. "I didn't tell you I wouldn't be in it." She crossed her legs in his direction. "I wanted to make sure your first day got off to a good start."

Vera looked up from her phone and shot Barb a miserable look. "You've fucked him already, haven't you."

"Why, whatever makes you say that?" Barb laughed as she leaned into Jon. She placed a hand on his crotch, rubbing it with her entire palm. Though he was taken aback, Jon could feel his cock already responding to her caress. He blushed every shade of red his body could muster.

Vera shook her head, unimpressed. "You're such a fucking slut, Barbara." Jon was struck by how she could talk to her boss. It was a good sign, he thought. "So what shall it be for him, then? Admin? Facilities? Third Floor?" That last option she pronounced in a suspiciously different tone.

"He's from Tom's group, so we'll start him with what he knows and work from there."

"Fine," Vera sighed. She took a stack of papers out of a leather bag at her feet and made a few notes on them in pen before handing them to him. "Here. Sign these."

"What is this?" he asked.

"It's a contract," Vera replied. "You're signing your life away, didn't you know?" He was sure she meant it as a joke, but it was hard to tell.

"It's all just boring stuff, really. You know, to make sure you get your new salary, benefits," Barb explained, "There's a non-disclosure agreement in there, too. You'll have a lot of secrets to keep from now on, but you knew that, right?" She was still massaging his crotch.

Jon pretended to read what he was signing, but it was no use. All the legalese just blurred together, and Barb's playfulness was too big a distraction. The cabin was quite roomy for a limousine, but it was still getting awfully hot in the confined space.

"Mmm. It's gotten so hard," his boss noted. "I can see its head through his pants! Ver, can you see that?" Vera just rolled her eyes. Barbara leaned in close, tickling his ear with the tip of her nose. "Why don't we give it some fresh air," she whispered.

"What? Now? Are you crazy?"

Barbara bit her lower lip and grinned.

"Uh, but I need to sign this contract!"

"You can still do that," Barb argued, "I won't get in your way." She started undoing his belt.

"Um, ok, this is happening," Jon reported. He lifted his pelvis to help her get his pants down. Out popped his throbbing staff, much to Barb's delight. She wrapped her fingers around it and started stroking. Jon shot a nervous look at Vera but she was answering texts again.

"Isn't it pretty?" Barb enthused.

Vera glanced up from her phone. "It's not exactly the biggest penis, is it," she replied.

"No, but it's just so nice. It's like, the picture of a penis. Like, the dictionary would have a picture of this penis in it." She kept stroking. "Mmm. I'd love to suck it off right now, Ver. Wouldn't you? Clarence wouldn't mind if we walked into our meeting covered in cum, would he?"

"I highly doubt it," Vera said.

Just then, Barbara's phone started vibrating. "Speak of the devil," she said. "Hi, Clarence. How are you? Yes, I got the PDF..." Barbara leaned away towards the car window to focus on her conversation, but her other hand was still working Jon's cock.

His breath was getting heavy. His pelvis started to rock, thrusting his shaft against the rhythm of her strokes. Jon had never felt so awkward as he did at this moment, what with Vera sitting right across from him. Not that she seemed the least bit bothered. He closed his eyes and dropped his head back, trying to escape the weirdness of the situation, while at the same time thoroughly enjoying the feeling down below.

"Are you done signing those papers?" Vera asked.

Jon looked at the unfortunate crumple of documents he was clutching in his left hand. He smiled sheepishly as he handed them over. She flattened them out, then put them back in her bag.

"Well, anything you missed, we can go over later," she said. She proceeded to stare out the car window, only occasionally stealing glances at his crotch and what Barbara was doing to it.

He did not want to cum. It just felt like the wrong time and place for it. But Barbara kept at it, all the while talking headcounts with her client, and Jon could feel the sensation welling up inside him. It was getting harder to control the tension in his body and he tried not to make a sound, but a faint "oh God" slipped out from under his breath.

Vera shot him a look. Perhaps she was annoyed that he couldn't keep it together while their boss was on a call, or maybe she was just curious to see the eruption that was surely coming. He couldn't tell. She glared at him and took a deep breath before gazing out the window again.

"We're there," she said.

"Clarence, I have to go. Yeah. I'll see you in a few." Barb put away her phone. "That man loves to hear himself talk, but don't they all." She looked down at the action between Jon's legs. "Hmmm. How's this pretty cock doing?"

"Just fine, by the looks of it," Vera remarked.

"My, it looks like it's about to explode! Are you really close?"

Jon bit his lower lip and nodded.

Barbara pressed a button on her armrest. "George, I'm going to need a minute. I'll let you know when we're ready."

"Yes, ma'am," the driver said.

Barb leaned in close once more, her strokes increasing in speed and intensity. "I want you to cum for me. Can you do that?" She spoke softly.

Again he nodded. His heart was racing and his breathing drowned out all other sounds in the cabin. He looked at Vera and, to his surprise, her disinterest had melted away. A casual observer would have thought she had given in to lust, but Jon could tell it was really an admiration for her boss, for her ability to reduce a man like him to a mere play-thing -- something to spice up her morning commute.

"God, look how purple it is," Barb remarked. "Such a pretty cock. Let me see you cum. C'mon, baby. Oooh, fuck yeah."

Jon's mouth was wide open, with only the occasional grunt escaping. He shot Barbara a plaintive look as his left hand pressed itself desperately against the car window and his right hand grasped at the headrest behind her. He gritted his teeth. His pelvis ceased its rocking and was now tensed up into a permanent thrust.

"Oh, I think he's coming!" Barbara milked his cock with quick, frantic strokes as jets of warm cum shot out of him and hit the car ceiling. And it just kept coming. Jon let loose a growling, guttural noise as spurt after spurt flew into the air. It felt as if his entire being was being poured into the universe. There was no awkwardness, only release.

Vera and Barb did all they could to avoid cum falling on their nice suits. At some point Vera even used her briefcase to shield herself, feigning terror and disgust at the prospect of getting hit. When Jon was done, the two women were both laughing hysterically, pointing out all the impossible places his cum had landed.

"Bloody hell," Vera said. "What did you have for breakfast?"

"Poor George," Barbara laughed, "He is not going to enjoy cleaning this up."

With an aching back, Jon stepped out of the limousine into an industrial lot buzzing with forklifts and delivery vans. From the surrounding buildings he could tell they were in Hell's Kitchen, not far from the river. The enclosed lot was connected to an aging building, about three stories high, that quietly took up half the city block. On the short walk from the car to the loading docks, Barbara was approached by half a dozen employees asking for her input on matters of seemingly grave importance. Jon was introduced to them all -- truck drivers, chefs, carpenters, florists -- though he did not retain a single name.

Inside the building was no less frenetic. Barb led Jon through a cavernous space filled with crates and pallets, racks of serving trays, audio and lighting equipment, building supplies and a swarm of people. They slipped into a hallway that had all the charm of a bomb shelter. Everyone they passed greeted Barb profusely, and more than one person informed her that Sean was there too.

"Oh! Someone tell deLaura those limos are good to go for the big show next month," Barb shouted to no one in particular before bouncing a heavy metal door open with her ass and shuffling Jon through.

He found himself in a tiny, windowless office. There was a desk, a couch, a file cabinet and not much else. Behind the desk sat an older gentleman, a fatherly type with thinning hair. Barb introduced him as Richard, the head of waitstaff, and Jon was introduced to him as his new server.

"Yes. Yes, of course," he uttered as he pried himself out of his seat to shake Jon's hand. He was clearly a man of good breeding, but a distracted man, like someone who had just seen a ghost and was trying to keep it to himself. A faint smile never seemed to leave his face, and Jon could tell he had to strain very hard to maintain it. "So good to meet you. At long last a replacement for Jeremy. Big shoes to fill, indeed."

"What happened to Jeremy?" Jon asked.

Barbara laughed. "Let's just say Jeremy got a big promotion."

They sat on the couch as Barb laid out Jon's credentials. "So I'm thinking we can plug him into Marta's party on Friday," she concluded. "That should ease him in nicely."

"True," Richard replied, "Not much choreography involved with that one. And whatever etiquette he did not learn from Tom I can teach him by then. With all due respect to Mr. Capello, of course."

"Choreography?"

Richard's smile broadened and suddenly he seemed more focused. "Yes. I do not know how much Barbara has explained, but each of these events is more like a theater production than a party. You will find there is a certain dance to learn for each. Fortunately for you, Marta's parties are not terribly... complicated."

"No," Barb said. "Not even the kids upstairs have much to do on that one."

Just then there was a knock on the door. In popped Sean's head, and the rest of Sean soon thereafter.

"How's it going, bud? Welcome to the other side."

As they shook hands, Jon couldn't help but think about how this man's wife had been stroking his cock mere minutes before.

"Hey, hon? Vera is about to blow a gasket. You're going to be late for Clarence."

"Ugh. Fine. Take good care of this one, will you? I gotta go." She gave Jon a wink and Sean a quick peck on the cheek before gliding out. For a moment it felt like the color in the room had left with her.

"I was just explaining to our new friend the difference between conventional party planning and what we do," Richard offered.

Sean chuckled. "Oh yeah. Night and day." He dropped into the seat his wife had been occupying moments before and took a deep breath. Whatever he was about to say, Jon knew it would be delivered with all the gravitas of a philosopher expounding on the meaning of life.

"Thing is, our clients are people who have seen everything and done everything and have enough money to do it all over again. It takes a certain amount of... creativity to show people like that a good time. Luckily, we employ a lot of very creative people."

Richard nodded in agreement.

Sean's eyes widened. "Speaking of which, has Barb taken you upstairs yet?"

"No..."

Sean sprung off the couch. "Come with me. Richard, we'll see you later."

Richard cleared his throat. "Of course," he said. "I will need to see you back here later, young man, but for now: Enjoy."

Sean took Jon down the long hallway to a freight elevator with what appeared to be a bouncer guarding it. The large and heavily tattooed man nodded to Sean and stepped aside.

"You're going to love this," Sean said as they rode to the top floor. "It's the heart of the whole operation. Or the pussy, depending how you look at it." He seemed to take great pride in this turn of phrase.

The elevator gate opened onto a corridor nowhere near as drab as the one below. It felt like they had traveled to the floor of a nice hotel -- the level with all the amenities. Jon could smell the chlorine of a pool and the eucalyptus of a steam room. They passed a large workout room enclosed in glass, where a number of stunning women and a few chiseled men were punishing themselves on treadmills and bicycles as they watched cable news on screens above their heads. They all looked like they had stepped out of a centerfold. Their tight-fitting workout clothes showcased their porn star attributes nicely. It almost hurt to look at people that sexy. A girl pedaling aimlessly on a bike took notice of them passing and waved at Sean with an opening and closing of her fingers.

"So this is where our entertainers come to work on their routines, stay in shape, get their marching orders, et cetera, et cetera." It was clear Sean had given this tour more than once. "You'll find some of the best sex workers in the world pass through these halls."

"So... what do they do for the company exactly?"

"They put on one hell of a show, is what they do. And fuck our clients, when our clients aren't fucking each other." Sean thought about it some more. "Well, it depends, really. Some people order up parties just to get their hands on our friends here. Some people just want us to break the ice for their orgy. The kind of clients we serve, there are plenty of hot pieces of ass on the guest list, and trust me, it's way more fun to fuck, say, your best friend's wife than to fuck someone who's getting paid to fuck you."

A petite woman in her early twenties came through double doors at the other end of the hall. She was of Asian descent and naked but for a towel on her head. She had the build of a gymnast, with strong arms and thighs but a tiny waist. Jon couldn't help but stare at her small breasts and dark, puffy nipples as she flitted past him.

"Oh, hey, Ichika? Have you seen Denise?" Sean turned around to hear her reply and Jon turned with him, if only to take in her body once more.

"I think she's on the roof having a smoke," Ichika said. A mischievous grin appeared on her face. "Why? Did you need her?" It seemed a rhetorical question. She gave Jon a once-over before disappearing behind one of the hall's many doors.

Sean pushed through the double doors into another corridor where the sounds of a woman moaning could clearly be heard. They followed the sound to a door marked "Studio B" and peered in through its small window.

Inside was what appeared to be a dance studio, with mirror-lined walls and women in leotards stretching their long legs on the barre. In the middle of the floor sat a ring of people watching a very fit couple have sex in an impossible standing position. The tall, voluptuous blonde had all her weight on her left leg, while her other leg was raised straight up to the heavens. Her right hand was holding her right foot to keep the leg skyward while her other hand rested on the palm of her partner's hand. The man was behind her, helping to hold the leg up, but also driving his enormous dick in and out of her gaping slit.

Her round breasts heaved up and down with each thrust and her moans echoed throughout the spacious studio. The man had clearly found his stride already. It almost looked like he was grooving to some unheard beat, back and forth, in and out of her box.

The group around them sat quietly in pairs, watching the couple fuck the way one might study a painting in an art gallery. Another, far older woman wrapped in silk scarves and pearls paced around the class, her arms folded, watching the performance intently.

"Ok, thank you," she boomed, "This is good. This is good. But next time, you must LOOK at him. Really look. Like he is hurting you and you are angry at him. Like you promise you will get revenge!" She spoke dramatically and with an accent that Jon couldn't quite place. "Again," she commanded.

The duo took deep breaths and exchanged an encouraging look before the female leaned over slightly and stuck her one leg back into the air. It seemed to defy the laws of physics and anatomy. The muscle-man grabbed onto her thigh. He stroked his nine-inch cock a few times and rubbed its tip around her labia before guiding it back in. Her moans started out soft and sporadic, but soon grew to an operatic pitch. This time, she stared back at her aggressor with a look of pained recrimination and disgust. This was no longer an act of love, it was a ravishing, and it made the performance ten times hotter, as their teacher undoubtedly knew it would.