Life in the Oasis

Author's Note

Welcome to the Part 3! This is the first chapter in the final series in the Elysium Trilogy. If you haven't yet, I suggest you read

Part 1

and

Part 2

, although you do not need to have read the previous two parts to be able to understand the story (or enjoy the sex!), so don't let the size of this series intimidate you. You are welcome to start here and go back later if you choose to.

Be aware, this series includes a variety of adult situations, and I do my best to ensure that the tags are correct and comprehensive for each chapter. These stories will include things like male and female bisexuality, gay sex, lots of interracial sex, some incest, oodles of group sex, voyeurism and exhibitionism, all set in a near future universe where sex is far more open than in our world. You'll find a lot of the standard tropes turned on their head here, so don't be surprised to have your assumptions challenged!

Thanks to all the fans and supporters who have been tagging along since last October when the series started. My goal is to publish one chapter a week, usually on Fridays, and I expect this series will include twenty chapters, same as the previous two series. As always, these characters are all fictional, and everything comes from the author's imagination.

As always, if you like what you've read, give us a vote, leave a comment and a follow. Thanks for reading!

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Thursday, July 31, 1969

The Oasis, Las Vegas

Winnie Chesterfield didn't have time for this. It was just after one in the afternoon, and he needed to focus on the rest of his day. Today was going to be one of the biggest days of his life, and he couldn't afford to be distracted.

But how could he say no to these two?

Bambi and Thumper were the two hottest cocktail waitresses he employed, and they were probably the two kinkiest, too. And that was saying a lot in Las Vegas. The girls were inseparable, and everybody knew that if you wanted to date one, you ended up dating both. Sometimes at the same time.

Like today.

Winnie had half an hour before he was scheduled to do a tour of the Oasis Resort and Casino with two big Hollywood moguls who were in town to scout shooting locations for their next spy thriller. Two hours later, he had to sit down with the star of the new show opening in the Oasis that night and his agent. And after that, he had another meeting with one of his New York connections who wanted to 'talk business.' That was the only meeting he was concerned about.

So, with all that scheduled, of course he was in his office, his pants around his knees, Thumper's mouth around his cock and Bambi's tits in his face.

There were some perks to running a Vegas casino, and getting to bang the cocktail waitresses two at a time was one of them. He knew folks at the tables would be having trouble getting drinks, but he didn't care. This was too good to let a little customer service get in the way of his afternoon delight.

Bambi's beehive hairdo, mounds of beautifully tinted buttery yellow hair piled on top of her head, looked exquisite above her large, round breasts, both of which were shoved into Winnie's face, his mouth locked around her left nipple. Bambi loved getting her tits sucked, and this was the quickest way to get her ready for a good, quick fucking.

Thumper, on the other hand, loved nothing more than a fat cock in her mouth. Winnie wasn't the best looking or most well-endowed guy on the planet, but he was their boss, he did handle the bonuses and tip allocations, and the two girls never had a qualm about ensuring they were on his good side. And if they could get a couple of orgasms in the process, well, that was a nice afternoon's work.

If it wasn't scandalous enough that Bambi and Thumper were bisexual, the fact that Bambi was as white as ivory, and Bambi as black as ebony, with a beautiful afro hairdo that framed her cute face, certainly ensured that a date with these two would raise eyebrows, and cocks, all around the hotel. That was part of the thrill for them, after all. Vanilla sex was boring. This was Vegas, and if you couldn't get away with this kind of sin in Sin City, then what was the point?

"Keep sucking, Thumper," Winnie said breathlessly, trying to speak around Bambi's tits in his face. "Get me good and wet for you," he urged.

Thumper looked up at him with those big brown eyes of hers, and redoubled her efforts, bobbing her head up and down on his cock. She was the more petite of the two women. Where Bambi was stacked like a Playboy model, Thumper was thin and lithe, her tits on the smallish side, little raised bumps that just filled out a bra. Winnie loved the contrast as much as he loved her mouth.

So, when the girls cornered him in his office, he couldn't say no.

After another quick few minutes' worth of dick sucking, Winnie shifted the girls, bending Thumper over his desk, as Bambi sat on top of it, pulling up her miniskirt and presenting her pussy to Thumper, who buried her face into it. Winnie moved around behind Thumper, lifted her skirt to find no underwear. Her pussy looked good enough to eat, and he slowly worked his dick in, taking her from behind. As soon as Winnie bottomed out, Thumper moaned into Bambi's pussy, and Bambi grabbed her girlfriend by the back of the head, forcing her mouth down onto her clit.

Both girls sported a healthy patch of pubic hair above their pussies, Bambi's a rich shade of brown, giving the lie to her blonde beehive. Thumper's was thick and curly, and as dark as the hair on her head. Winnie reached around, trying to feel Thumper's breasts through her cocktail waitress uniform, but there just wasn't enough tit there to feel much more than cloth, so he put his hands on each side of her hips and began to thump her, pun intended.

Winnie smiled and Bambi bit her lip and smiled back. Bambi was loud, and her shrieks had to be audible in the offices around Winston's, but he didn't care. He was the boss, and it wouldn't hurt to remind his staff that while he was the boss, he was barely thirty and still a party boy at heart. He'd had more than one offer for a quickie from his lovely female staff after they heard his partners during the day moaning and screaming their pleasure in his office. It was good advertising.

"Fuck me, boss!" Thumper urged, pushing back into his cock as he thrust forward, each time bottoming out and sending a little shiver through her body. "Dump your load in me, boss, I need to feel that cream," she growled.

Winnie loved the dirty talk, and he made sure to encourage it amongst his partners. The girls knew it and made sure to oblige him.

"Fuck her, Winnie," Bambi urged. "Stick your cock in her black snatch and make her moan." Bambi moaned herself, the feeling of Thumper's tongue on her clit as she squeezed and tugged on her nipples was making her hotter and hotter. "Oh, Thump! You're going to make me cum, baby!"

Thumper kept up her assault on Bambi's pussy, and Winston fucked Thumper as hard as he could. He glanced up at the clock and knew he needed to wrap things up. He focused his attention on the warm wetness around his cock, watched the two girls playing with each other -- any man's fantasy -- and soon felt that familiar stirring in his loins. Another ten seconds and he was grunting, his cock pouring forth its seed into Thumper, who began to moan as soon as she felt his dick start to pulse in her.

"Oh boss, fill me up!" She urged, reaching behind to spread her cheeks as Winnie fucked her good and hard, his cum lubricating his cock even further. Winnie grunted one last time and then collapsed on top of Thumper, who, in turn, collapsed on top of Bambi.

The three stayed like that for a few seconds, until a loud knock on the door interrupted their post-coitus breather.

Winnie immediately withdrew his cock from Thumper, pulled his pants up and buckled them, then grabbed his sports coat from the coat rack by the door and threw it on. Bambi hastily fixed her bra, buttoned up her blouse and pulled down her skirt. She ran to the mirror hanging on the wall above the fireplace, and checked to make sure her hair wasn't too mussed. She would have to reapply her makeup later.

Thumper, who was almost fully clothed, grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on the desk, wiped herself down, and then threw the cum soaked wad into the trash can under Winnie's desk, straightened her skirt and blouse, and touched her hair to make sure it was still in a thick black orb around her head.

Winnie looked at her with a half-grin. While he enjoyed playing with both girls, Thumper was his favorite. They even had a daughter together, another closely held secret that he'd gone to great lengths to keep. She'd named the girl Bathsheba, and she was four years old. Winnie saw her as often as he could, which wasn't that often. He put in the back of his mind a reminder to go see the pair later. But now, he had to focus on business.

All this took less than thirty seconds. There was another rap at the door, and Winston opened it, to find his secretary standing there, with two very large men behind her.

"Sir, the two producers are here to see you," she said, gesturing behind her.

"Of course, of course. Cubby, Harry -- come on in," Winston said. "Let me introduce you to two of my top performing waitresses. This is Bambi," he said, gesturing to the blonde. "And this is Thumper," he said, gesturing to the brunette.

The two men entered, filling the room. Albert, who everyone called Cubby, was tall, wearing a gray suit with a thin black tie and a pocket handkerchief. Harry, his partner, was wearing a herringbone suit with no tie, a cigarette perched on his lips.

The two men smiled broadly when they saw the women. "You certainly have some lovely ladies working for you, Winnie," Cubby said. "Bambi and Thumper, eh? I like it. I'm going to have to use that," he said, winking at his partner.

The two waitresses smiled and nodded to the men. Winston palmed each girl a hundred-dollar casino chip -- more than a week's wages -- and the pair hustled from the room. Winston took the two producers in tow and led them to the casino floor.

"We're one of the newest and the second largest of all the hotel casino resorts here in Las Vegas," Winston told the two men as he gave them the grand tour. It was a bit quiet on a Thursday afternoon, but there were still plenty of people in the casino, enough to make a thin haze of tobacco smoke that hung below the ceilings. "We've got every table game you can think of, and more than five hundred slot machines," he said. "The hotel has every amenity, from room service to laundry, and we can host more than 5,000 guests at max capacity. The only hotel bigger than us is the International, and that's the biggest in Nevada," Winston said.

The two Hollywood producers looked impressed. "How often are you full?" Cubby asked, "And if we were to film here, how long do you think we could get away with it?"

"We're usually full on the weekends, but we rarely hit max capacity. We average about 4,000 guests for a full night. As for how long, depends on how much you want to pay," he said, grinning.

Cubby smirked at him and took a drink from a passing waitress' tray. "The drinks are free?"

"All day long," Winston said. "We find that the more liquored up the guests are, the better time they have and the more they spend," he noted.

"What's this I hear about Elvis Presley playing?" Harry noted, grinding out his cigarette into one of the many standing ashtrays around the casino floor.

"I've booked him through the end of the year," Winston said, a proud smile on his face. "This is his comeback tour. He'll be staying in the Penthouse, and doing three shows a week. We've sold out through the next three weeks," he noted. "Let me show you the auditorium," Winston said, directing the two men through the casino floor towards a large foyer on the far side of the gaming floor.

The auditorium was large, state-of-the-art with large speakers set framing the stage. The light crew and sound techs were working on getting the place prepared for tonight's concert.

"We can seat a thousand people in here," Winston noted with pride. "The only venue bigger than ours is in the International," he told them. "But our auditorium is cozier. It's a better experience. People are going to feel like they're sitting in Elvis's lap tonight."

"How many seats are in the International's concert hall?" Harry asked. He had lit up another cigarette, and stood puffing away, watching the hustle and bustle around the stage.

"They can fit two thousand," Winston said, the smile faltering. "But it's not nearly as intimate."

"Intimate or not, they'd make double the money filling their room to yours," Cubby said, raising his eyebrows. Harry said nothing. Winston had heard all these arguments before, including from his business manager, but he remained adamant. The venue was better, even if it was smaller. Hell, it was better

because

it was smaller. Winnie liked a buck as much as the next guy, but in the end, he cared more about the experience than the profitability. A show here was memorable in a way that a show at the International, with its shoehorned seats and binocular-needing views, couldn't ever be. Someday he'd convince people he was right, but he didn't have time to do that today.

Their time was running out, and Winston needed to be back in the office for his next meeting. He did not want to be late for that one. You don't keep royalty waiting.

"Here, I need to run, but you all are welcome to spend as much time as you like. Your rooms are comped through the weekend, and here are some free chips to spend at the tables," he said, handing each man a stack of twenty-dollar chips.

"Thanks, Winnie," Cubby said, palming the chips. "Can we get tickets for the show tonight?"

Winston smiled. "Already done. They're waiting in your rooms," he added.

The two men smiled, waved and headed off to play some blackjack. Winston hurried back to his office.

If he could get those two to film their new movie in his hotel, it would be a massive boost to business. He just hoped they didn't go over to the International. He didn't need the competition.

By the time he arrived, his next meeting was ready to start. His outer office was filled by half a dozen men, standing around, smoking and generally making a nuisance of themselves. Elvis didn't go anywhere without the Memphis Mafia, even to business meetings.

"Red, Sonny, make sure you keep these guys in line. I don't need any more complaints from the cocktail waitresses about them getting fresh," he said, a grin on his face. Red and Sonny were Elvis's bodyguards, big, strapping brothers who sported the same long hair and sideburns as their boss. The two men smiled and nodded at him, as Winnie opened the door to his office and stepped in.

There, in the flesh, was the King of Rock and Roll. Elvis was sporting a pair of dark sunglasses, a tight white shirt with a flared collar and a large pendant necklace around his neck, hanging down into the fur that sprouted out from the open neck of the shirt. He had a black jacket on and was rifling through the knick-knacks on the bookshelves along one of the walls of Winston's office. His tour director, Joe, was seated in front of Winston's desk, and his promoter and manager Colonel Tom Parker, was standing on the other side of the room, looking out the window.

"Gentlemen, I trust everything is going well?" Winston said, breezing in, closing the door, and taking a seat behind the desk.

"Just getting ready for tonight," Elvis said, in his soft, southern drawl. "You know me, baby. TCB, all day long," he added. He was sweating, and Winston wondered what kind of drug cocktail was flowing through his veins today.

TCB was short for 'taking care of business,' one of Elvis's favorite catchphrases. He had a massive gold ring on his finger, with the letters T, C, and B picked out in diamonds, below a large diamond and flanked by two lightning bolts, picked out in the same diamonds as the letters. It must have weighed five pounds.

"Winnie, this auditorium is too small," Colonel Parker said. "The International's is double the size. Why did you guys build such a small auditorium?"

Winston bristled at that. "Because we want the venue to be intimate. We want people to feel like they're right on stage with the acts," he said. "That's why we charge more," he added.

"Yeah, but people want to see me," Elvis said, looking over at Winnie. "More seats, more people get to see me," he added. "Money don't matter none," he added.

"It may not matter to you, but it matters to me," Winston said, sourly.

"It's not that money doesn't matter, Winnie, it's that you're going to pay Elvis the hundred grand per week in his contract, regardless of how well the casino does. Isn't that right?" the Colonel said, pouring himself a drink from Winston's bar.

"The hotel is struggling, and you being here is going to put us on the map. I need people to walk away from this concert feeling like it was worth the extra money," Winston told the three men.

The Colonel sipped his drink, and Joe raised an eyebrow. Elvis turned to look at Winston squarely. "Don't you worry about that. I'm going to give the people the best damn concert they ever saw."

"That's what I want to hear," Winston said. The Colonel looked at Winston closely, and Winston didn't like what he saw in the Colonel's eyes. There was some kind of play happening here beneath the surface, and it made Winston's skin crawl. Largely because he didn't know what was coming.

Joe had a few questions about the venue, which Winnie answered. The meeting broke up, and Elvis and his entourage left, to go back upstairs and get ready before the concert that night. Winston couldn't shake the bad feeling he got from Parker.

It was close to supper time, but Winnie knew he had one more meeting today, and this one he absolutely couldn't afford to miss. He sat doing paperwork for an hour, waiting patiently.

Shortly after five, there was a knock on the door, and his secretary escorted his final meeting of the day in.

Jimmy 'The Chin' Catena stepped into the room. He was an immense man, built like a beer keg, his head sitting directly on his shoulders, no neck and no chin -- hence the nickname. His hands were thick, with fat, sausage fingers. He wore a white shirt with flared collars, open at the neck with no tie, and a blue sports coat with khaki pants that were fighting a losing battle against his waistline.

The Chin was Winston's primary contact with the Genovese family, who had been in Vegas from the beginning. Originally founded by Lucky Luciano, the most famous of all the Vegas gangsters, the family was still the primary power behind the Vegas gambling scene. Winston had worked for casinos affiliated with the Genovese for a decade now, and it was with their blessing that he'd opened the Oasis. They also controlled a number of other casinos, including the International. The Chin's father, Jerry Catena, was Underboss for the Genovese, part of the troika who were currently running the family after Vito Genovese's arrest and imprisonment in 1959, and death earlier in '69.

Now, of course, Winnie didn't know that. Almost nobody knew that. The Genovese were notorious for being cagey about who was actually in charge, and after Vito Genovese died, Winnie had no idea who was running things back on the East Coast. The internal politics of the family didn't really matter to him. All he knew was that the Chin was his contact, and that he needed to keep their 15% skim flowing. He was very good at that. No matter what, he made sure the family got taken care of, and for that he got a lot of leeway in running his business.