Life In The Elysium Ch 03

Life in the Elysium, Ch. 3

Jack has a run in with Nyla, and finally meets his future step-dad

This is my first time writing erotic fiction. I hope you enjoy it, as these scenarios have been floating around in my head for a while. Be aware, this series will include a variety of adult situations, including bisexuality, interracial sex, incest, group sex and other taboo subjects that not everybody may be into. If any of these subjects bother you, there's an entire site here filled with things you may prefer more. In any event, thanks for reading.

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By the time Miles had left to go to bed, my head was spinning. Yes, it was spinning in a good way, but the travel and all of the excitement had finally wore me out. I felt bad not seeing him back to his room - I didn't even remember him leaving, to be honest. I grabbed the pile of clothes and my shoes from the floor, carried them into the bedroom and dumped them on the cuck chair beside the bed (of course there was a cuck chair - this may have been a private residence, but it's still a hotel at heart). I fell, naked but for my socks, straight into the biggest bed I had ever slept in, and was fast asleep.

I remember my last waking thought being I had this massive bed in my new bedroom, had gotten laid twice today, and not once had we made it in here.

The thumping started a few hours later.

I knew I hadn't drank nearly enough for a hangover - a couple of glasses of scotch and one glass of port over something like six hours was not the recipe for a hangover that would cause thumping this loud. The thumping was punctuated by periodic shrieks and squeals that I couldn't identify. Either somebody had snuck a female fox in heat up into the penthouse, or Miles had been right and I was stuck in the worst room in the hotel: the one next to his sister.

Our half of the penthouse was separated by the lobby, and at least two other rooms - 3 and 4 - that I didn't know the use for. I wasn't sure if Sinclair had staff living up here or if those rooms were vacant, waiting on some new edition to the family. What I did know was that they were probably insulating Miles in 2 and Mom and Sol in 1 from the epic bass drops that were literally shaking the lights in the sconces on the wall we shared.

I groaned, rolled over and half fell off the bed. I would have earned a 5.6 from the East German judge for that dismount. I wandered over to the shaking wall and proceeded to pound on it with my fist, shouting "KEEP IT DOWN! TRYING TO SLEEP!"

This was the tried and true method back at school, and it almost never failed. Of course, when you're stuck in the same shitty dorm with people you have to see every day, there's usually a strong community norm against being a giant douche and rocking out at 2 AM on a weeknight. Apparently, this norm did not exist on the penthouse floor of the Elysium. Nyla had clearly gotten used to not having a neighbor while being on the far side of the building from the rest of the folks who lived here so she could do pretty much whatever she wanted. And, clearly, she could give two shits about me and my desire for sleep after a long, albeit exciting, day.

At least, I assume she couldn't give two shits about me. There was a solid 80% chance she hadn't heard my pounding or the yelling.

I didn't know what I was going to do, but I couldn't sleep with all this racket. I looked over at the pile of clothes on the floor, knowing my wallet and credit cards were in there somewhere - would I have to rent a room somewhere else in the hotel just to get some sleep? I certainly wasn't going to go wake up my Mom or Miles and asked to sleep in their room, like a scared kid during a thunderstorm.

That's when I remembered there was a security station in the lobby. I looked in the bathroom, behind the door, hoping that the hotel DNA in my room was strong enough there'd be a robe hanging there and I was in luck. It was a nice, warm, soft cotton robe with a stylized 'S' over the left breast pocket - it reminded me of the tattoo Misaki had sported on her bikini line, and the logo on Sol Sinclair's card stock. I pulled it on, tied the belt loosely around my waist, opened the door to my apartments and marched into the hallway. The door clicked shut behind me, and it was at that moment that I realized I had left the key fob for the room under my jizz covered sport coat in the living room.

Fuck me.

The noise was even louder out in the hallway than it had been in my room, and I was honestly surprised that it couldn't be heard throughout the building. It struck me that there really was nothing around our section of the tower at this hour. Above us was the roof and below us was the Ciel Bleu which had closed for the night hours ago. Chances were, depending on how the sound propagated away from the door that Nyla hadn't been bothering anybody until I moved in. I had been doing my best to avoid drama up to this point, but I got the feeling I was heading for a mess of it.

My stomach sank as I walked down the hallway towards the elevator lobby and the security station. By the time I was close enough to hear the ding of the elevators, the thumping was almost non-existent. It sounded no louder than the sound of the cars moving up and down their shaft. My guess was right - there was a good chance nobody even knew she had a party going on in her room.

That was the bad news. The good news was that I recognized the security guard on duty - it was Lionel, who had escorted me up to Mom's room when I'd first arrived at the hotel. He was the only person I'd met so far today who was taller than me, and while he moved with the grace of an athlete, he was built like a Mack truck. Thick shoulders, thick arms, thick waist, textbook dark sunglasses, bulge from an obvious concealed gun under his black sport coat, round face and close cropped hair that reminded me a bit of Miles, but far more menacing. This is not somebody I would have suggested fucking with, even if he hadn't been armed.

He had been staring into the soft glow of the various cameras monitoring the floor and looked up at me as I walked over.

"You're up late tonight, Jack," he said, his baritone reminding me of the thumping coming from Nyla's room. "Is everything okay?"

I wasn't sure how to play this without sounding like a pussy, so I just decided to go with honesty.

"Hey Lionel," I said, rubbing my eyes. "I hate to sound like a narc, but Nyla's got a very loud party going on in her room and it's making it impossible for me to sleep."

Lionel said nothing, his dark sunglasses shielding his expression. I could see my reflection in them, and I even thought I looked like an upscale homeless dude. Naked but for a white hotel robe, dark socks on my feet I had forgotten to remove before I fell asleep, and unshaven with bedhead hair sticking out in random directions. After a few beats, he sighed. "What is it you want me to do, Jack?"

"I don't know, Lionel. Aren't there rules about noise in the hotel? Disturbing other guests? Couldn't you talk to her and ask her to turn the music down and stop the shrieking?" I pleaded.

Lionel just shook his head. "There are rules about noise in the hotel, but they don't apply in the penthouse. None of the hotel rules apply in the penthouse, Jack. This is where Mr. Sinclair and his family live, and they can do just about anything they want," he rumbled. "As for me asking Nyla to turn it down, absolutely not."

I was surprised. Wasn't I part of the family? I knew I was the new guy, but c'mon. "Why not?"

"Because there is one person in this building who I am legitimately scared of and it's not you, Miles, Mrs. Fisher or even Mr. Sinclair. It's her. Besides, she's the boss's only daughter and while I like you, you aren't part of the family, really. Not yet. But you're welcome to talk to her yourself. Maybe she'll take pity on you as the new guy in town."

I felt the frustration building, but I knew it wasn't fair to lash out at him. Like me, he was only being honest. I took a deep breath and sighed, tamping down my anger.

"Okay. I guess I'll try this the old fashioned way. Wish me luck." I steeled myself up for what I expected to be a significant confrontation, turned around and headed back towards my wing.

"Good luck," Lionel said as I plodded off down the hallway, completely forgetting I had locked myself out of my room. "You're gonna need it, kid."

The sound grew louder as I approached the double doors leading into #5. The shrieking had stopped and I thought I could hear low moaning between the thumps of whatever electronic trance she was blasting at 90 decibels. I banged loudly on the door.

Nothing. Not a fuck you, what do you need, or nothing.

I ran my hands through my hair in frustration, banged again, even harder this time. I shouted "NYLA! OPEN UP!" and I was sure my shouting was loud enough to be heard by Lionel back at the security station. I assumed he was watching me through the video monitors - like any Vegas casino hotel, the Elysium was sure to have a top-notch surveillance system, even though I had seen no signs of it. If he wasn't going to come down here to help me out, I figured he at least wouldn't come down here to stop me.

Still nothing. I pulled my hand back to smack the door one more time, but before the blow landed the two double doors swept open. Nyla stood in the doorway, a look of frank indignation on her otherwise beautiful face.

"What the fuck are you doing pounding on my door in the middle of the night, boy?" she shouted at me. The sound of the music was even louder with the doors open and I could barely hear her over the sound of the music.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?" I asked her - I had made out something like "fuck" and "boy" but that was all I could decipher.

"WHAT?" She yelled back at me.

"I CAN"T HEAR YOU," I shouted back, pointing at my ears in the universal signal for 'can't hear shit.' She scrunched her nose at me like she smelled a fart, and disappeared back into the room, leaving the doors wide open. I knew this was not an invitation to step in, so I remained where I was in the hallway. The music stopped in mid-thump. With the music no longer playing, the moaning coming from where I guessed her bedroom should be was plainly audible. It certainly sounded like someone was having fun in there. Either that, or Nyla had taken up taxidermy and her subjects weren't quite as unalived as they were supposed to be.

She came back into the doorway from wherever she'd gone to cut the music, and it was at that point I realized she and I were dressed exactly alike. She was wearing the same cotton bath robe I was, although instead of a stylized 'S' above the pocket on her left breast, her's was a stylized 'N'. I couldn't tell if she had anything on underneath, but the robe went down past her knees, and she was barefoot. I, on the other hand, looked like a boomer with my black socks still pulled up over my calves. If I hadn't been so tired, I might have fantasized about what was under her robe, but all I could think about was convincing her to keep it down.

"What I SAID was, what the fuck are you doing pounding on my door in the middle of the night, BOY?" she said again, with an emphasis on the "boy."

"Boy? Dude, you're like, what, nineteen?" I said, not even thinking about what I was saying.

"Do I look like some damn teenager? I'm 25 next month, and I'm celebrating my birthday early, and you're out here INTERRUPTING ME, at 2 AM! What's the matter with you?" Attitude dripped off her like venom.

"Look Nyla, we obviously have gotten off on the wrong foot, I'm--"

"I know who you are, Jack fucking Fisher. You still haven't answered my question," she said. I noticed the moaning had stopped. She was interrogating me like Mom in a deposition, and it was starting to piss me off. I wasn't the one in the wrong here.

"I live next door. The music was so loud it not only woke me up, it was shaking the walls. I just flew in here from DC today, it's about 6 AM in my head right now and I've gotten maybe two hours of sleep in the last two days, and I would just like to get some FUCKING REST." My voice had started soft, but by the time I finished my sentence my temper had gotten the best of me and I shouted the last two words, which echoed down the corridor, mocking me. I rubbed my hand over my eyes, knowing I was making a fool of myself out here in the hallway, but what was done was done.

"Ny-ny, who is this?" said a high pitched voice from somewhere behind Nyla. Suddenly, the doorway was crowded with girls. A statuesque brunette, a petite blonde and a perky redhead stepped into the light spilling into the doorway from the hall, directly behind Nyla. They were all completely nude. The brunette was built like a pinup doll - the kind you'd fine painted on the side of an old bomber or hanging up in an auto body shop. The blonde looked like she had come straight out of a gangbang meme, and the redhead reminded me of my third grade teacher - big breasts, big hips, and the kind of pouty lips that had every boy in my class daydreaming. Of all three women, she was the one who made my cock start to rise. Nyla was certainly hosting a party here, that was for sure. I almost regretted not being invited.

Nyla turned around and hissed at the girls. "Will you sluts get your asses back in the bedroom? I'm having a conversation out here," she said.

"We want to know who with," the redhead said, her tone low and sultry. "He's cute!"

That did it. My cock was definitely responding to the stimulation of these four women, three of them naked as the day they were born, and all of them staring at me like I was a piece of meat. It was kind of nice. Or would have been, if I wasn't about to fall over from fatigue.

"He's just somebody who is living here temporarily, nobody important. Now go!" she yelled at them. The three girls pouted a bit, but did as they were told, and I heard the door to the bedroom click behind them.

"Here's what you're going to do," she said, turning back towards me. "You're going to turn around, walk down the hallway back to your room, open the door, go enjoy that big bed you don't deserve, in this hotel that doesn't belong to you, and you're going to find a pair of headphones or ear plugs or fucking cotton balls or whatever you've got on hand, and you're going to stick them in your ears, and you are NOT - I say - NOT going to bang on my fucking door at TWO A FUCKING M IN THE FUCKING MORNING AGAIN. Do you understand me?" Her voice rose and rose, and I could see now why Lionel had refused to come down here. She was terrifying. She hadn't backed down an inch, and she was behaving like she owned the place. Which, honestly, she kind of did. I found myself actually respecting the game here, even though I wanted to put my head through the wall. Even while she was yelling at me, I did notice she had scoped out my cock as it had begun to peek out when Mrs. Schermer's doppleganger had called me cute. That made me feel a little better, although it had deflated almost instantly as she berated me for the heinous crime of knocking on her door.

"All I'm asking is that you keep it down, I just want to get some sle-" I started to say. I didn't get the last word out as a large hand grasped my shoulder. I was taken by surprise, and my body moved without thinking, shrugging off the hand, spinning on one foot while moving into a defensive crouch and raising my fists to ward off a blow.

"Whoa, whoa, easy. What's going on here? What's with all this yelling? It's 2 in the morning!" the voice said. It was a commanding voice, with a bit of gravel in it, and the hint of an amused grin. There was no malice, though, so I relaxed and lowered my hands, as a blonde and white blur flew past me, forcing me to take a step back.

"DADDY!" cried Nyla, throwing her arms around the man who had touched my shoulder. He was about my height, with a gleaming bald head, chisled features, wearing a fashionable white tuxedo jacket with the collar unbuttoned and his bow tie hanging down around it, looking like James Bond fresh from the baccarat tables.

Did they have baccarat in the Elysium? Something to find out.

My brain caught up with my eyes, and I realized I was getting my first glimpse of Solomon Sinclair in the flesh. And I was buck ass naked in a bathrobe and old man socks, yelling at his daughter.

Great. This is going to be a bad first impression. Nyla was smothering her dad in kisses, and he was laughing, obviously pleased with the warm reception. I just stood there, blinking, like a dumbass.

Nyla finally let him go, and he reached out a hand to me, which I took. "I'm Solomon Sinclair," he said. "You must be Jack."

"It's nice to meet you, sir," I stammered out. This man was going to be my step-father in a few months. I'd have given anything for a mulligan on this introduction. I couldn't have one, though, so I knew I'd better recover quickly before he made up his mind I was the dumbass I appeared to be. "Sorry about the disturbance. I don't think Nyla is used to having company down this wing, and I was just trying to get some sleep."

"Nyla..." he said, looking down. She had the grace to look abashed, all pretense of attitude gone. "Jack is going to be living here from now on. You can't just pretend like you're the only room this side of the building. And you know if you want to party at 2 AM, there are plenty of other rooms in the hotel you can use where nobody is going to care how loud you are," he said. "You or your Terrible Trio," he smirked. Apparently he knew all about Mrs. Schermer, Pinup Gal and Meme Girl. Given everything I'd seen today, this didn't surprise me at all. Of course he knew about them.

"I'm sorry, Daddy. But it's my birthday!" she said. I could not believe how this woman had gone from drill sergeant to cute, fuzzy bunny rabbit in the blink of an eye. It was unreal.

"Your birthday isn't for another month, Ny. It's December. You can party like its your birthday, and you can not give a fuck it's not your birthday-" I nodded appreciatively at the paraphrased lyric "-but don't try to sell that nonsense to me. I know when my little girl's birthday is. Now you two hug and make up like brothers and sisters are supposed to do," he said.

I knew she didn't want to do this, but her adoration of father overcame whatever disdain she had for me, the interloper. She pulled me into a brief hug, jumped up to kiss her father on the lips and then scurried back into her bedroom and closed the door. Solomon just shook his head and smiled.

"She's a good kid," he said to me, still shaking his head. "But I freely admit I've spoiled her rotten. I'm sorry about the trouble. I was hoping we could ease you into things. Your mom was worried you'd be overwhelmed by all the sudden changes, and I have to admit I think she was right. Nyla can be a handful at the best of times, and I'm sorry I wasn't able to greet you on your arrival myself. Unfortunately, work never seems to stop around here," he said, suddenly looking as tired as I felt.

"I appreciate the help, sir. Thank you," I said.

"Why don't you get some sleep, and we can get breakfast tomorrow and try this introduction again?"

I nodded. It was exactly what I was hoping he'd say.

"See you in the morning, Jack." He turned to head down to his suite, where my Mom was likely waiting. I coughed, politely... again... and he stopped and turned back around. "Is there something else you need?"

"Yes, sir, if you please, sir," I stammered again, sounding like I was about to ask him for another bowl of gruel. "I, uh, locked myself out of my bedroom when I came out here to ask Nyla to keep it down. You don't happen to have a spare key laying around do you?"

He smiled at me again, pulled out his cell phone, tapped at it a few times, and I heard a click down the hallway from the direction of my room.