Life In The Elysium Ch 05

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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I spent most of Saturday in my rooms. There were so many things swirling around in my head, I just needed to be away from people for a day. I couldn't get that deadpan look from Nyla during my walk of shame last night out of my head. I couldn't tell what she was thinking - was she angry? Was she resigned? Was she ever going to treat me like a human being and not like something stuck to the bottom of her shoe? And that was the least of my problems.

I had replayed the evening with Mom and Sol in my head a thousand times. Even now, a full nights sleep later, just thinking about it was enough to give me a chub. I was completely sexed out at this point, though, and needed to recharge my batteries. Given how much sex was available to me here in the Elysium, I didn't think I was ever going to need to jerk off again.

I had no idea what I was going to do with Mom. Last night was amazing and I couldn't get it out of my mind. I could have fucked my mom if I had wanted to. She wanted me to. Her fiancée wanted me to. A good part of me wanted to. But what was this going to do to our relationship? And what if we got found out? What would be the impact on the family and on my future career prospects? Was I ready for a front page tabloid story about me being a literal motherfucker? And what about the legal consequences for both me and mom?

My tablet had been sitting in my carry on for a few days, and I pulled it out that morning over breakfast - a lovely plate of bacon, eggs, toast with butter and strawberry jam, and a glass of orange juice had appeared in my room that morning - to do a little research. It turns out that incest between close family members was a class A felony in Nevada, carrying a two year prison term and a hefty fine. I went down the rabbit hole, as I munched through my eggs and bacon, and by the time I'd finished my second cup of coffee I had calmed down a little. What we'd done so far wasn't illegal, because the law seemed to only ban vaginal intercourse. The whole point of these laws appeared to be limiting the possibility of birth defects, but I knew that wasn't an issue. Mom had her tubes tied after I was born, because she and Dad didn't want any more accidents. I had already completely upended their lives, and they didn't want it happening again. So there was no chance we were going to be making three headed kids. The upside was that apparently I could bang my step-family as much as I wanted to, because that wasn't criminal. Mom and I hadn't had sex last night, so we were still in the clear.

But I wanted to. Man, how I had wanted to. Watching her and Sol go at it made my heart beat faster. It was amazing to watch them together and I wanted to see it again. Again and again. And again. I still didn't think I was ready to cross that Rubicon with her though, especially not when our freedom was on the line, but I also knew that there were plenty of things we could do that didn't involve actual sex that I was already starting to rationalize accepting in my head. That butt plug, for instance. I knew I still needed more time, but the more I thought about last night, the more I was kicking myself for not getting more involved.

After breakfast, I cleaned up, and looked through my rooms again. I hadn't spent a ton of time here since I moved in and I wanted to make sure I knew where everything was and how everything worked. I spent the rest of the morning in bed, poking through my phone, reading a book, checking to see if my final grades had posted yet (they hadn't, and I was an idiot for even checking given we were less than a week away from exams ending), and just relaxing. Around lunch time I ordered a burger and fries, which was brought up by room service, escorted by a security guard I didn't recognize. I guess Lionel and Biggs got the weekends off. I took a brief nap, and then spent a few hours luxuriating in the tub in the bathroom. I hadn't realized it, but there was a TV built into the glass in the shower, and another one that hung where I could see it while in the tub, and I watched a couple of college football bowl games while soaking. This was the life. I couldn't take any of this for granted, because I'd be back in the dorms in a couple of weeks, with no tub, no TVs, and no privacy.

I got a notification on my phone from the housekeeping staff, asking if I wanted my room decorated for Christmas. With all the excitement, I'd almost forgotten it was just a week away. I responded in the affirmative, and started thinking about what kind of stuff I wanted to put on the walls. This was my home now, after all, and I wanted to start putting my imprint on it. I'd never had a room of my own before, so decorating was never really an option. I didn't want to pay any fines for putting holes in the walls of my dorm rooms. Taped calendars, baseball team pennants and the occasional family photo were as far as my home decorating skills had ever gone.

The sun had set when I got a text message from Miles, asking if I wanted to go to Vespers that evening. He said one of the starting acts had bailed last minute because of illness, so he was going to be spinning from opening to midnight, when the main act DJ came on. I told him that sounded great and asked him where we should meet up. He said he'd come to my room in a few hours, and we could head down to the club, which opened an hour or so later.

I was looking forward to seeing Miles in action and seeing the club in all its glory. I was born here in Vegas, but most of these clubs were 21 and up, and I'd never actually been in one when it was open. I hauled my pruney ass out of the tub, toweled off, put on my trusty bathrobe (where had these been all my life?) and ordered a light dinner. I didn't want to go too heavy, but I knew I had to eat something since I'd probably be up drinking half the night. The club was open until almost sunrise, and I figured I needed to close the place down at least once.

I wasn't sure what to wear, so I googled Vespers and looked for some crowd photos. Oddly enough there weren't very many online - most of them were just publicity photos from Sinclair Group's website, and a handful of photos from so high up you couldn't make out much from the crowds. I didn't want to ask Miles again what to wear because I didn't want to seem like a club noob, so I just assumed if I wore all black - black shirt, black slacks, black sports coat and black shoes - I couldn't go wrong. I looked great in black, anyway. Besides, I wasn't planning on picking anybody up that night, just spending some time with Miles, watching his set, drinking and maybe doing a little dancing.

The doorbell rang and the lights blinked right on time. I opened the door and saw Miles with Lionel in tow.

"Damn son, you looking killer tonight," Miles told me, pulling me into a bro hug. I laughed. He was wearing a white wife beater t-shirt, gray designer sweatpants and the gold chain I'd seen him in when we'd been together earlier in the week. It worked for him, showing off his lean physique. "Lionel's gonna have his work cut out for him keeping people away from you tonight," he laughed.

"Lionel, I was hoping you had the weekend off," I told him.

"I was supposed to," he deadpanned. "But somebody has to guard the princes during their revels," he said with a smirk. "It's okay though, I get time and a half for club work."

"Princes?" I asked.

Miles punched me in the arm. "Apparently the security staff have started calling us that," he said. "I mean, they've been calling Nyla "Elsa the Frost Queen" behind her back for a while now, so I guess we got off easy."

I grinned at him, and we headed off to the club.

The lines were out the door and around the block by the time we got downstairs, and Vespers still didn't open for another half an hour. There was some prime people watching, as I checked out all the women and men who were waiting to get their chance to dance the night away. I wasn't the only dude in all black, so I gave myself an attaboy for not looking like this was my first time. I saw more than one guy with Vegas Athletics and Raiders jerseys turned away by the security staff, of which there were dozens. Given how much security was already there, I felt bad for Lionel, but I guess it was his job to watch the family and he wasn't going to outsource that responsibility to club security, who were really just there to keep out guns, illegal drugs, freeloaders and the rest of the riff raff. They were also there to make sure no non-Elysium Club members snuck into the casino, which I saw at least a few people try to do. They were caught and ejected every time. A tough price to pay for just trying to peek at the casino floor.

As we came up to the massive front doors of the club, security started clearing a path for Miles. I don't think they had any idea who I was, but they definitely knew Miles and since I was with him, they parted to let me through as well. We skipped the line, the metal detectors, the wanding, and went right through into the club proper.

Vespers looked totally different when it was primed for opening. There were all kinds of features I felt like I hadn't noticed, from large gothic style windows and mirrors, to even more areas that were obviously designed to hide people who wanted to do something semi-private. The entire club was even more dimly lit than the casino, and the dance floor was obscured by fog from a smoke machine that was pumping a steady stream of cloudy air at foot level. When the lights and lasers from the chandelier hit the smoke, the effect was pretty cool. I looked at all the frantic motion, staff making final checks before the doors opened, security coordinating entrances, the sound crew checking the equipment and the lights guys making sure everything was ready to roll, and it hit me - I was part of all of this now. This could be my job some day. I could be responsible for all of this. It was a pretty cool feeling.

Miles showed me around the dance floor and introduced me to some of the staff, including some of the servers who were walking around with tablets and flashlights. Each had a bottle service table or two assigned to them, and it was their job to make sure the drinks kept flowing, and that the responsible parties for each of the tables knew exactly what they were ordering and how much it cost. Miles explained to me how bottle service worked - each table cost a set amount. Patrons would pay up front and then would order alcohol from the Club's menu. The cost of the alcohol was deducted from the set amount that was prepaid. Whatever wasn't spent that night was kept by the club, and if the patrons at the table spent more than they'd prepaid, they paid the difference. It was a pretty good system for the club, which ensured they knew how much they'd make each night from table sales in advance. It also didn't hurt that the prices for booze on the menu were absurd. Some of the mark ups were in the quadruple and quintuple range, and the higher end stuff, like magnums of top tier champagne cost five figures or more. The servers had to verify every transaction, to make sure the patrons knew what they were buying and what it was going to cost, because the last thing the club needed was credit card chargebacks of massive proportions, or drunks claiming they'd never ordered something they had.

We walked to the center of the dance floor and I looked up and spun around with my arms out. Miles looked at me like I was high, but I just laughed. Standing in the center of this massive club, with its soaring ceilings and crazy lights, it felt like I was at the center of the universe.

"Don't you think this is pretty amazing? This club, all these people waiting to get in, just to see you?" I asked him.

He paused and thought for a moment. "Nah, brah. They aren't here to see me. I'm just the fill in. But this is my club, always felt like it was my club, so I guess they are coming here because of me." He scratched his head and then smiled. "Yeah, this is pretty fucking cool," he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tube of weed gummies, opened the lid and popped one in his mouth. As he chewed, he held the tube out to me and said, "You want a gummy? They help take the edge off. It can be a long night."

I've never been a big weed guy, but I felt like it would have been poor form to turn him down. I held out my hand and he tipped one green gummy into my palm.

"Just one?" I asked him.

"Bro, when you prove to me you can handle one, I'll consider giving you more," he laughed. "Go ahead and head on up to the company table and you can watch as we get started," he said. "I've gotta go get ready for my set."

I popped the gummy into my mouth and chewed. It tasted like green apple. The effects wouldn't hit me for a little while, so I went upstairs, Lionel trailing behind me. The security at the company table unhooked the purple velvet rope that ran across the entrance to our area and let me and Lionel in. Lionel thanked the guard and dismissed him, taking up a spot by the rope. Our server came by and got my drink order, which was just a bucket full of light beers and another bucket of waters. There was nobody else in the company area, so I sat down and waited for the show to start.

The doors opened, and people started pouring in. I watched as the dance floor began to fill. I saw security bring a group of scantily clad girls onto the dance floor, then direct them to a corner table. A handful of them immediately climbed on top of the table and start gyrating their hips to the soft trance music that was playing during the opening. After a minute or two, two of the girls on the table took their tops off and threw them into the crowd, which roared approval. I looked around and watched other tables filling up. There was a group of older guys who filed into a table to the left of mine. One of the guys looked familiar. At that point, the gummy started kicking in and my head felt light as a cloud. I stood up, grabbed a beer, and walked over to the edge, watching the crowd. The two topless girls had drawn a crowd below them, hooting and hollering, and it got even louder when they started making out with each other. A few other women in the crowd had doffed their tops as well, which made me smile.

Suddenly, the lights went out, and a bell tolled and the crowd made scared noises. The bell sounded like the Undertaker's entrance from an old WWE pay per view. A spotlight lit the stage, and I saw two rows of women dressed in nun's habits holding incense censers walk out, two by two, swinging the censers, which billowed fragrant smoke to add to the smoke already covering the dance floor. Organ music began to play softly. The spotlight followed the nuns until they lined up along the stage front, and then recentered on a figure in a brown friar's robe, the cowl covering his face, who appeared and walked slowly to the DJ booth. As he got to the booth, the nuns all lowered their censers. The monk raised his fist into the air, and in his fist I could see a microphone. He slowly brought it down to his mouth, and shouted "CAN I GET AN AMEN?!"

At that moment, the beat dropped. The mic fell from the monk's hand, clattering to the floor, as the crowd's raucous "amen" echoed through the club. The dozen nuns, as one, pulled off their breakaway habits, revealing themselves as a dozen scantily clad dancers who immediately began gyrating to the thumping base, and the monk tore off his friar's robe, revealing Miles in the same outfit he'd been wearing when we came in. The crowd surged, jumping up and down to the rhythm, and the party started in earnest.

It was fucking awesome.

An hour or so later, I had finished a few beers, a few more waters, and a handful of Sinclair Group employees had stopped by the table. It was too loud for any in-depth conversation, but I was happy to finally be meeting people outside of the family or immediate staff. They all seemed to know who I was, which was cool, and that, coupled with the THC from the gummy and the beers left me floating on cloud nine. I even went down into the main dance area and tried to get my groove on, but with Lionel following me everywhere, it put a bit of crimp on my dancing. I could tell he was getting nervous with me being out in the middle of the crowd so I had pity on him and went back up to the corporate table.

I sat down to cool off, my face and hands sheened with sweat from my excursion out on the dance floor. I noticed that the table filled with older men was still full, and I grinned. The old guys knew how to hang. People were crowded around the upper tier now, all staring down at the dance floor, trying to catch a glimpse of tits or ass, or just people watching like I was. As the lights strobed, I looked over at the older men group and noticed one of them looking at me intently. It was the salt and pepper, bearded gentleman I had seen in the gym yesterday. We made eye contact, and I nodded at him and smiled. He nodded back.

A few minutes later, our server came to the table, bringing a bottle of scotch, an 18 year Macallan. I knew this was an expensive bottle, even without the crazy mark up, and I hadn't ordered it. I told the server I hadn't ordered scotch, and she leaned over, lips right up against my ear and told me it was a gift from the gentleman at the other table. I asked her what it cost, and she told me. My eyebrows shot up. It was even more marked up than I thought.

Now, I prefer more peaty scotches, but I wasn't going to look this gift horse in the mouth, so I signed for it, and she brought a bucket of ice (which I scoffed at) and a few plastic tumblers - no glasses were allowed in the club. Even the beers had been in bottle cans. I guess bottles of liquor were the exception. I picked up the bottle of Macallan and turned to see the bearded gentleman at the other table looking at me. I waved the bottle at him and gave him a thumbs up. He touched his hand to his chest and then held his arms out towards me, acknowledging the gift, as if saying 'from me to you.'

I stood up and approached Lionel. Pointing at the man, I shouted in his Lionel's ear "Can you invite that guy with the salt and pepper hair and beard over to our table?" Lionel stretched his neck to see who I meant, saw him, and then nodded. He unclipped the purple velvet rope, and I watched as he forced his way through the crowd to the other table. I saw my gift giver get up, and follow, and soon they had made their way back to my table. Lionel invited him in, clipping the rope back behind us.

I offered my hand and the gentleman took it and pulled me close for a hug. Lionel started forward to stop him, but I waved him down.

"My name is Paul," he shouted into my ear. "I saw you in the gym yesterday and should have said hi," he screamed.

"I'm Jack," I responded, shouting as well to be heard over Miles' set, which I figured was just about over. The main act should be coming on soon. "Thanks for the scotch!"

"My pleasure," he shouted. We sat down together, and I cracked the bottle open, poured two fingers of scotch into two plastic tumblers, and handed him one. We were sitting together far closer than we needed to be, legs touching, despite the fact that there was no one else at my table. I noticed he ignored the ice bucket as well, and I smiled at him. He clinked his 'glass' to mine, making a completely inaudible thud instead of a clink, and took a sip. I did the same. We sat there companionably sipping our scotch, our legs pressed together, for another ten minutes.