Bachelor Behavior 2 - Part 1
by Simon Underfoot
Copyright 2024, All Rights Reserved
Foreword
As the title implies, this story is a sequel and consequently best read following the initial installment. While the focus of the first was various exhibitionistic themes (in addition to a fair amount of sexuality), this tale will explore broader concepts, including varied relationship elements. Your feedback is welcome and appreciated.
Cheers,
Simon
Prologue
"So what's next, Kai?"
The big man gave the room his characteristic, slightly goofy smile and shrugged. "We go home." On his left, the busty Brit leaned her generous curves into him, smiling warmly while surreptitiously placing a hand on his groin. On his right, a more petite blonde sat smirking, her arms folded to push up impressive cleavage.
"What does your father think of this whole thing?" another reporter asked.
The man laughed. "I talked with him this morning. He told me he's jealous as hell and he'd take one of the blondes off my hands." The petite woman snickered and her smirk switched sides.
"What about you, Stephanie -- any regrets?"
The woman looked at the other two occupants of the stage and smiled broadly. "Fame, fortune, and family -- what more could I possibly want?"
Prelude
Given that Kai was a former athlete and Stephanie a sports reporter, a press conference in lieu of a wrap-up show made a kind of poetic sense, but I wish we'd have gotten a chance to see some of the women that had left. I was particularly partial to the one named Kat, an Eastern European beauty that had departed late in the season, only to turn up at the epic finale orgy. I closed my eyes and pictured her sucking Kai's cock and started to harden. Aware of Kelsey seated on the same love seat not two feet away, I shifted to my hip to hide the involuntary reaction and focused again on the television where a panel of talking heads was analyzing Stephanie's comments.
"Well, that was disappointing," complained Michelle, one of our hosts, as she folded her arms and pouted from her seat on the couch's arm.
Her husband, Mark, patted her generous rear and chuckled. "Hoping for more action, Babe?"
"No," she snapped, smacking his hand away. "But... where's the closure?"
"They're going to live happily ever after -- what more could you want?" Kelsey asked.
Scott, sitting next to his wife, Tricia, chimed in. "I'm with Michelle. They didn't even talk about the orgy. What about Kat and Red -- what happened to them?"
"And Gloria," Scott added.
Michelle smacked him again, then left her hand on his shoulder. "Gloria's married, you perv."
"Nuh uh," he replied, tapping into his inner toddler. "I saw it on one of the tabloid sites -- she hasn't been married for almost a decade."
"Seriously?" She turned to me, wide blue eyes somehow simultaneously pleading and accusatory. "Your friend works on the show -- ask him." It came across much more like a command than a request.
"Why would Max tell me anything about his boss?"
"Come on, Ryan," she wheedled. "And while you're at it, ask him about the other girls." The expanded request was a stretch, which probably meant she'd been waiting to ask me to get inside dirt all night.
I gave her an exaggerated eye roll and quickly surveyed the room. Tricia looked bored, scrolling on her phone while Mark gave me an inquisitive look. Michelle had moved on to batting her eyelashes while her husband pretended not to care, but it was Kelsey that decided the issue, my long time crush's expectant smile pushing me over the edge.
"Yeah, okay." It wouldn't actually be that big a deal -- Max was one of the show's producers and a good friend for more than a decade. I'd dropped him a couple texts over the last couple months, offering him congratulations and wishing continued success as the internet phenomenon he was part of rapidly gained steam.
The truth was that I was as curious as anyone in the room, and it would be good to see what Max thought about the whole situation.
"Thanks, Ryan," Kelsey and Michelle chorused, something they'd been doing for more than a year. I favored them with another eye roll as my heart fluttered from Kelsey's accompanying smile.
We watched the telecast for another ten or fifteen minutes before the commentators finally decided there was nothing new to rehash and flashed a mature content warning. "Finally," Michelle exclaimed, sliding down onto the couch next to Mark, pulling a blanket over them both with a smooth motion.
It was an open secret that Michelle had jerked Mark off during the orgy under that same blanket, despite their four closest friends being in the room -- or rather, three friends and a frigid misfit who would rather peruse her social media feeds than actually be social. I didn't want to dislike Tricia, and I don't think anyone else did, either. The problem was that she made no effort whatsoever to integrate into our group. Worse, she'd been slowly sucking the life out of a friend of mine for almost a year.
Yes, she was smart and successful, contributing much more financially as a corporate robber baron than her husband would ever make; yes, she was attractive in the traditional ice queen vein; yes, she was -- reportedly -- an absolute freak in bed, delighting in leather, toys, and a dozen forms of role play. I'd specifically avoided asking any questions and pointedly changed the subject of their intimacy anytime Scott brought it up. In an abstract objective sense, he was a lucky bastard to have landed such an impressive woman, but she just wasn't very nice, to him or to us.
On the TV a recap had begun, starting with highlights of the show's final threesome: Kai, Stephanie, and their third, an absolutely gorgeous schoolteacher from England named Merci. The clips showed a few innocent activities like board games and shared dinners, but it was clear the focus would be increasingly on the sexual encounters the three had shared off-screen, then in full view of cameras as the show progressed.
I remembered Kelsey's gasp the first time Stephanie's tits were shown on the live stream -- the petite blonde was astonishingly attractive, her physical appearance enhanced by the sassiness she exuded in virtually every interaction.
Likewise, the first on-screen blowjob took us all by surprise, even Tricia, who made it all of twenty seconds before dragging Scott out the door. He told me later he'd almost taken out a telephone pole as she sucked him off on the way back to their apartment. Our hosts had also quickly retired to their bedroom, leaving Kelsey and I to watch together, awkwardly, silently, too afraid to even look each other until Kai had finally fired off into his ladies' mouths.
Coincidentally, that same session was now being shown in the recap. "I think I'll call it a night," I said, not wanting to relive the experience. Besides, if I wanted to see the orgy again, I'd just pull it up at home where I could relieve myself.
"Already?" Michelle asked, the rhythmic rise and fall of the blanket not stopping; Mark pointedly avoided eye contact.
Another glance at Kelsey showed me her eyes were riveted to the screen -- her breathing was shallow and her cheeks red. I'd never seen her look sexier and it made my stomach clench to know it was because of some some rich jackass she'd never meet getting his schlong batted around by two blonde hotties.
I sighed and stood, feeling ridiculous about my jealousy. Kai seemed like a genuinely nice guy, but fuck it: nobody deserved to be talented, rich, and so good looking that women threw themselves at him on the off chance he might pick them to bounce up and down on top of his dick.
"Yeah, see y'all next week."
As I drove home, I thought about what it would be like to be in his shoes for about the hundredth time. Five-seven and pale with a prominent widow's peak, there was a negative likelihood I'd ever find myself in that situation.
~ ~ ~
I took the next day off, a perk of being the boss. It wasn't like my team really needed me. My one true skill as a manager was making sure they operate at least as well without me as when I was around. What's more, my main responsibility has always been bringing in work, and we had a waiting list more than a year long. I smiled at the thought of productivity increasing while I took a six month vacation.
The morning was spent online, trying to put into action the plan I'd hatched laying in bed the night before. It took several hours for me to find a suitable option, so as I hung up from finally making the call I felt a sense of accomplishment.
However, on my way to the salon, I was more nervous than any business meeting I'd attended in at least five years. I'd explained that I was having an early mid-life crisis and wanted to change my look. The woman sounded perplexed, then intrigued, and finally decided to take me on as a customer. Me offering the same one-day consulting fee I charged my own clients probably helped.
I'd done as she suggested and dressed as if I was going on a first date: lightly moussed hair, fresh shave, a touch of cologne paired with a light blue collared shirt, khakis, and brown leather belt with matching loafers. Seeing myself in the glass storefront as I approached solidified my resolve that I needed a change.
"Ryan?"
"Hi, Victoria," I responded, holding out my hand with a smile. She was probably in her early forties, dressed professionally with short black hair and a distinct 'caring friend' vibe.
"Come on in and stand in the light," she said, directing me to the center of the small shop where she proceeded to slowly circle, looking me up and down. "Hey, Bonnie -- come 'ere."
"Great," I muttered self consciously as a younger woman with blue hair joined in the assessment. After a couple minutes I was dismissed to sit in one of the salon chairs while a third woman was pulled into the discussion. Fifteen minutes later Victoria and her cohorts joined me at her station -- all three were wearing grins, ranging from wicked to thoughtful.
"Do you trust me?"
"I barely know you," I quipped nervously, forcing a smile. Something in Victoria's eyes had me worried. The feeling got worse when she picked up a straight razor from the counter. The girl with the blue hair held my hand and smiled while Victoria did her thing. About half an hour later I was rubbing that same hand over my very smooth bald head. "It's lumpy." I'm not sure if it was an observation or complaint.
"Everyone's head is a little lumpy," she replied with a grin. "The good news is that you have really nice, symmetrical features." The four of us were staring into the mirror together. "Your haircut wasn't bad, but it wasn't doing anything for you. This way, people will notice your face more."
"Perfect," I said sarcastically, looking at the acne scars on my cheeks.
"That's part two," she continued, rubbing a finger along my jawline, which sent shivers up from my tailbone. "Grow out your beard a little -- a couple weeks -- then come back and I'll show you how to trim it up. The little bit of growth will make the scars harder to see, and also give you a bit of an edgy look."
I smiled self consciously. "I don't think I would know what to do with an edge."
She turned me around so we could actually look at each other. "Trust us on this. A couple weeks from now, once you've gotten used to it, you'll be struttin' around."
Letting out a deep breath, I nodded. After all, this is what I was paying them for.
"And..." It came from Bonnie with blue hair. "You're in okay shape, but if you really want to look and feel better, you should start working out." She handed me a piece of paper with a number on it.
