Life in the Elysium

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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For a variety of reasons, December 26 would turn out to be the first day of the rest of my life. So many things happened that had an impact on the man I was to become happened today, and while they ushered in a rough period for me and my new family, they also led to some of the best things that ever happened to me. But we're getting ahead of ourselves a bit here.

Christmas was over, and for the Sinclair Group, running a hotel and casino in Vegas that never actually closes, the holidays were over. Sol and Mom were back at work, and when I awoke that morning, I felt like a different person. I was no longer Jack Fisher, utility infielder and Georgetown senior. I was Jack Fisher, Vice President, Sinclair Group. Now, of course, this was all contingent on my graduating (which reminded me, I should probably check and see if my grades were updated, even though I thought it a long shot) but Sol had made it clear that although I wasn't getting paid, I was on the team and could work as much as I wanted, learning the ropes, until I went back to school. I decided I was going to do exactly that.

When I got up on Friday morning, I had a feeling that today was going to be an interesting day.

Understatement of the year.

Nyla had worked her magic again, and I rose to the smell of eggs benedict with coffee and orange juice. I sat at my breakfast nook, drinking coffee, eating my breakfast and reading the newspaper, which was folded neatly beside my breakfast tray. I know, this doesn't sound like the behavior of a barely 21 year old college kid, but I've always felt like an old soul, and everyone always told me I was mature for my age. At least I didn't need reading glasses to read the newsprint.

There was a below the fold article on the front page of the business section that discussed the implications of the Sinclair Group's reorganization. The bottom line was that it wouldn't likely make an impact on the company's operations. I noticed another piece about Empire Luxe Holdings registering names and domain names for a potential new casino property which they had yet to announce. The names registered included things like "Desire," "Eros," "Taboo," and "Amor Luxe." I made a note to show this to Mom and Sol - this looked like we might start seeing some competition. And if it was coming from Vex Romano, it would be backed by some serious money. The Elysium had just started turning a profit again, and one of the main reasons was we were the only hotel casino of our kind in Vegas. While competition is never a bad thing, the timing was pretty bad.

Mom and Sol made the front page above the fold of the Entertainment section, with a celebrity news piece that simply rehashed the press release. There was a photo of her and my Dad, and then one of her and Solomon, but it must have been taken a long time ago, because Mom looked frumpy as hell, with glasses and a Karen-style haircut that I hadn't seen her sport for years. I thought the photo choice was odd, given we'd provided copies of shots from the Christmas photo shoot when the newswire item went out. A little voice in the back of my head said that this wasn't an oversight and it was on purpose, but I had no idea how newspapers worked and if that was the kind of petty thing they'd do when they wanted to drive a narrative.

Naive: Adjective, na-ive, 1) marked by unaffected simplicity: ARTLESS, INGENUOUS 2) deficient in worldly wisdom or informed judgment, especially: CREDULOUS 3) Jack Fisher.

I finished breakfast, got in the shower, and got cleaned up. I put on a slate gray suit and white shirt with my cordovan leather loafers, and decided to head down to the 13th Floor.

As I walked by Nyla's room, she opened the door and grabbed me. "You look very professional," she said, smirking at me.

"First day on the job and all, I gotta look like I've been there before," I said.

"I think Daddy will very much appreciate your go-get'em attitude," she noted. "Let's get dinner tonight, just you, me and Miles. We need some family time without your Mom and Daddy, I think, and I've got an idea I want to talk to you two about."

"Sure," I said. "Sounds great. I'll get us a reservation at Ciel Bleu."

She looked down her nose at me. "Boy, you think we don't have a reserved table whenever we want it? Sometimes I wonder if your momma just found you underneath a turnip truck," she laughed. I shrugged sheepishly, and headed down the hallway.

My key fob worked on the elevator, and the blank button turned into a red 13, and I pressed it.

I stepped out on the 13th floor for the first time as a Vice President of the Sinclair Group. Felt pretty good. Now I just had to figure out what it was I was actually going to do here.

I walked up to the reception desk. A guy a few years older than me with an ear piece in his ear saw me and waved. "Good morning, Mr. Fisher! Welcome aboard," he said. "My name is Jim, and I'm one of the reception staff here. Let me show you to your office." He had black hair and olive features, his hair slicked back, and I thought I heard a trace of a New York accent. He was a few inches shorter than me, with a wiry build. He was wearing a black suit and white oxford shirt, which appeared to be the uniform for male Sinclair Group staff. The women wore similar - white blouses with black pencil skirts. I noticed a few as we walked down towards my office.

Jim was good enough to point out various things I'd need to know - where the bathrooms were, the staff room, where the printers were, and the bullpen where the VP's assistants and other staff sat - this was the open area filled with desks and phones I recalled seeing when I visited last time with Nyla.

"Do all the VPs have assistants?" I asked Jim. He sure seemed to know everything, so I figured he must know this.

"Yes, and I expect you'll have one as well. That might be the first thing on the agenda for you - getting your assistant," he said. "But you know better, I'm sure."

I DIDN'T know better. I was a snot nosed twenty one year old kid who had spent four months in an office setting my whole life. The last time I was in an office like this, I was the guy getting coffee and pastries for the finance bros. I was lucky if they even noticed I existed. Now, I was somebody - not only one of the bosses kids, but a VP in my own right. It took a bit of getting used to.

We headed down the long hallway past rows of offices, until we got near the end. The security desk was at the end of the hallway, as before, where Sol and Mom's offices were. Jim stopped in front of the office directly adjacent to Mom's. My name was on the door, in the bold gold print that marked all the doors on this hallway. "JACK FISHER, VICE PRESIDENT"

This was pretty cool.

"If you need anything else, Mr. Fisher, just dial 421 on the desk phone and that will ring reception. I hope you have a good first day!" He said, and left me standing there, in the hall. I looked at the door, looked at my Mom's door and Sol's doors - the lights were on and I expected they were both inside hard at work - and I pushed through the door into my new office.

It was...an office. A nice office, but just an office. There was a large window against the far wall, and I had a view of the back side of the hotel with an expansive view of the city below us. It was a bright, sunny day, and the sunlight was almost blinding as it reflected off every glass surface outside. There was a red cherry desk in the center of the room, with a leather chair behind it. Two computer monitors were connected to a workstation. A credenza sat behind the desk, and I could swivel in my chair and look at stuff or write there, if I wanted to. I'd have to decorate that area, because it would be in my background on video calls. There was a nice, very large architectural drawing of the hotel framed above the credenza. In one corner, a tall potted plant sat, and in the other there was a large clothes stand. I hung my jacket up on the clothes stand, and sat at my new desk. Across from the desk was a wide, black leather sofa, flanked by two end tables. It looked the same couch you saw in every "fake modeling interview" porno I'd ever seen. To the left of my desk, there was a small conference table with three chairs around it, and a book case on the far wall. It had a few binders in it, but was otherwise empty. It was a nice, workaday office, and the only thing that set it apart was the small gold engraved nameplate with my name on it that sat on the desk.

This was going to be my new home away from home, I thought. Best get used to it.

I booted up the computer and it took me to a Sinclair Group login screen, asking for a name and password. I had no idea what to put in, so I started looking around my desk area. I was about resigned to calling Jim - two minutes into my first day and I was already asking for help, this didn't bode well - when I realized there was a sticky note attached to the side of the monitor that said "JFISHER and FUCKME69420!" on it. Nice password. The handwriting looked suspiciously like Moms.

I logged in, and then pulled up a browser window and the email software. I started customizing like I normally do when I get a new computer, and soon I had imported all my bookmarks and stuff from school, as well as getting into my personal email. Work email was set up and there was a welcome email from HR, a note from Sol, another note from Mom, and a "PLEASE READ AND CONFIRM" email, also from HR.

The emails from Mom and Sol were just welcoming me to the firm. Sol's was nice, but could have been written by his assistant. Mom's was cute, telling me how proud she was, and ended with a kiss emoji.

The welcome email from HR was perfunctory, but reminded me that I was a provisional employee until June 1st, and that I wouldn't draw pay or benefits until then. The "PLEASE READ AND CONFIRM" email included a Non-Disclosure Agreement, an Anti-Compete agreement, an Employee Handbook confirmation agreement, and gave me a list of things to watch and confirm I'd seen on the company's HR site. It also told me that I was eligible for an assistant, and to use their internal staffing tool to review bios of existing staffers and if there were none that were acceptable, they would work with me find someone suitable outside of the company. I figured these were my first two tasks of the day.

While I was watching the HR videos - these were the most boring fucking things I'd ever seen, and included, of all things, sexual harassment training (uh, did they know where we worked?) which appeared to be cookie cutter for any corporation. It certainly didn't take into account the culture of THIS hotel, let me tell you. While I was watching the HR videos, I got an email from Gabby of all people. It's subject line was "SECURITY TRAINING" and she said to be ready at 11 AM for my first security training session. I probably should have expected this, given Sol's security consciousness, and I made a note to be ready for that meeting.

It took maybe an hour to get through all the paperwork and the videos, and I was about to turn to figuring out assistants, when I heard yelling from outside my door. I stepped outside, and I could see folks peaking out their doors and from the bullpen at the sound. It was coming from Sol's office, and I could tell right away it was my Mom's voice.

I was probably the only person on the floor who could get away with this, so I took advantage of my status as a Prince of the Elysium, and opened the door to Sol's office and walked in. Security didn't even look at me twice.

"How the FUCK did they get these photos, Sol? These areas are supposed to be off-limits, and the staff know better than to take unauthorized videos. There is either a fucking mole on the 5th floor, or our security is absolute dogshit. First Avery Locke sneaks in, and now this. What the fuck are we supposed to do with this shit? It's going to be everywhere by the end of the day!"

Mom was waving what looked like a supermarket tabloid around. She looked at me and said nothing, and Sol was just standing across from her, his arms crossed, looking at the floor, thinking.

"Where the fuck did they get this?" She asked.

"Mom, they can hear you down the hall. What's going on," I asked. "What's happened?"

"Look at this bullshit," she said and she threw the tabloid down on Sol's desk.

The headline read, in bold red capital letters "THE BLACKED WIDOW" and underneath in lower case "Sol Sinclair's Fiancée's Strange Bedfellows." There was a grainy photo of mom, her arms wrapped around a half naked black guy whose back was to the camera. It was clearly Mom, although her hairstyle was a bit out of date and she had on those weird librarian glasses she used to wear.

"That can't be recent," I said, looking at the cover. "Your hair is totally different and you've not worn those glasses since you got Lasik last year," I said.

"It's not. It's from two years ago, when I was first working for the company. I was living down on 5, alongside some of the sex workers and other staff. I'd finally gotten the confidence to start dating again, and I took advantage of being around so many attractive guys down there that I indulged in a few flings with the escorts. It was completely innocuous, I was single and I wasn't with Sol at the time. I don't know how the fuck they got these photos, but the timing on this is absolutely suspect. One day after we announce I'm joining as a partner and we're getting married? I've told you somebody is fucking with us, Sol, and this is proof."

"You know that I am well aware of the target on my back, and I've got the scars to prove it," Sol said, a little too harshly for my taste. I could tell he was worked up. He sat down at his desk, lifted the phone up and stabbed a button. "Jimmy, get Chris Stoneman up here," he said. "She's off? Right, I forgot it's right after the holiday. Then get Lionel in here," he said. "Thanks," and he half slammed the receiver onto the cradle.

I had picked up the tabloid and flipped through it. It was "The Gossiper," one of the larger circulation gossip mags you'd find in the check-out lines of finer Albertsons everywhere. I found the article, which spanned two pages on the inside, only a few column inches of text but it was surrounded by a half dozen photographs of Mom - one in a bikini at the beach, an ancient photo of her from her high school yearbook, a shot of her in a courtroom that was labeled as coming from her law school's alumni newsletter, another grainy one with a blacked out face on the men where she was surrounded by two black guys and she was apparently nude - or they wanted her to appear that way because they pixelated her chest and crotch area, and a nice full color shot of her, me and Sol from the Christmas card photo shoot. I skimmed the article.

Fisher, whose first husband John

[I bristled at this, because his name was Jonathan, not John]

died of COVID-19 at the start of the Pandemic, when she was in her late twenties, has been STEAMING UP THE SHEETS with dozens of men since she took over as General Counsel of Sinclair Group two years ago, sources tell The Gossiper. 'She was banging cocktail waiters, two at a time,' said one unnamed Elysium Hotel staffer. 'The guests couldn't get a drink,' the staffer scolded. It seems that Fisher's taste for DARK CHOCOLATE extends far beyond the norm, because she somehow managed to hook one of Vegas's most eligible bachelors, widower Solomon Sinclair, owner of the Sinclair Group. Does he know about her deep DARK secrets? Rumors have long swirled about his own sexcapades, opening Vegas's most salacious sin palace nearly four years ago, and those rumors have included sordid tales of late night parties, including with BABY OIL PARTIES WITH THE RICH AND FAMOUS, and even claims of HOT GAY SEX! Now that Fisher is a full partner and engaged to marry Sinclair, it's a fair bet that their sex parties are going to be even BIGGER, BLACKER AND UNCUT! Keep spreading the Gossiper and we'll keep digging these hot details for you, every week!

Mom was steaming, looking out the windows. "Mom, can't we sue them? These photos can't possibly be okay," I said.

She scoffed. "We could, but it would be a waste of time and probably just serve to prolong the bullshit," she said. "There's nothing actually defamatory in there. Yes, I fuck black guys. Those photos weren't stolen, they were obviously taken by somebody on the 5th floor, and since non-staff sometimes end up on the 5th floor it could have been anybody. After the announcement yesterday, I was a fair target and we expected something like this, just not this soon and not with photos," she said. She was starting to calm down and I could tell her lawyer brain was taking over. "No, this is too soon for it not to have been something they had ready to go. And that they used a shot from the Christmas photo shoot means this as recently done, too - those shots are like a week old at best. I get the feeling this is just the start of what we've been expecting."

"And what's that?" I asked, genuinely curious.

At that point, Lionel entered the office. Sol stood up, and showed Lionel the tabloid. If Lionel was shocked or surprised, he hid it well.

"I've had about enough of the leaks coming out of the hotel," Sol said. "We can't have these kinds of photos getting out - it's going to spook our guests, all of whom are members of the Club and spend time here because they expect and get the privacy to indulge in what they want without worrying its going to end up on the front page. I know that the staff on the 5th floor sometimes bring non-staff guests up to their rooms. That ends now. I don't want anybody in the 5th floor staff residences unless they live there or work here. Period. Tell the escorts if they need a discreet place to bring patrons who want a more private experience, we'll set aside some rooms up on 35 for them to use. Ditto the social media influencers. If they are abusing our trust on 5, they can go to some other part of the hotel and pay for it. We've got to stop this before it becomes a real problem," he told Lionel. Lionel agreed, and said they'd get right on it, and left the office.

Sol took Mom by the arm and sat her on one of the large couches that made up a sitting area in the corner of Sol's office. He gestured to me and I sat, and then he sat so that he could look at the two of us.

"There was an article in the paper today that confirmed what we've been expecting for a few months now," Sol said. "Vex Romano's making a play. He's going to set up a hotel designed like the Elysium, that will cater to the sex tourism crowd. We knew eventually our success would breed imitators, but I'm surprised it's happened this quickly and I'm even more surprised its Romano," Sol said. "He's always been too conservative for this city. He's one of the guys going after the Governor, and he's been on a family friendly Vegas kick for years. Why he'd consider opening this Amor Luxe, I don't know."

"Is that the name?" Mom asked. "I saw they'd registered a bunch," she said.

"Yes, we've got somebody relatively high up in the Empire Luxe Holdings apparatus and they confirmed it a few days ago. He bought up an area around the Sahara at the far end of the Strip. I guess he's still trying to make the North Strip happen," Sol said. It was fascinating getting this kind of insight.