Author's Note
This is the next chapter in the final series of 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 completely 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 or simply continue from here. If you like what you read here, there's plenty more in the previous two books!
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 touch on a variety of sexual subjects, 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!
As always, if you like what you've read, give us a vote, leave a comment, and a follow. I do my best to respond to every comment! Thanks for reading!
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Monday morning, July 25, 1983
Boyd Residence, Scotch 80s, Las Vegas
There was a reason Frank Boyd was on his fourth marriage.
It was approaching six in the morning, and the sun had risen a few moments ago. Frank was out of bed, his young wife still asleep, a sleep mask and sleeping pill ensuring she'd be in bed for at least a few more hours. He hit the bathroom, brushed his teeth quietly, and then just as quietly made his way downstairs to his home office, passing the bedrooms of his three children, all of whom would sleep late. It was the start of summer vacation.
He was still in his robe and slippers, no shirt and a pair of silk boxers. Frank wasn't bad looking, as far as fifty something, balding casino executives went. Sure, he could have lost a few pounds, and not everybody liked the aging college professor look, but he'd never had any problems getting women. That had always been his Achilles heel. It had cost him three wives and a large amount of money on lawyers, but there was always more money in Vegas. And more wives.
He took a seat behind the big desk in his office and waited patiently, a warm feeling starting to rise in his crotch at the thought of what was coming next.
"Señor Boyd?" The quiet voice squeaked tentatively, as Consuela peaked around the corner of the office, her eyes and the top of her pretty little head visible.
Consuela had worked for the Boyds for six months now, another in a long string of nannies, maids, cooks, and other domestic servants that Frank Boyd had hired to help his wife (all his wives, if we're being honest) handle the routine chores around the house. Many of them had been undocumented, most of them had been Hispanic and all of them had been cute, twenty-something brunettes. Consuela was as archetypal as any. Frank Boyd provided room and board and a small salary, and she provided 'service.'
They'd been the cause of two of his three divorces. Old habits are hard to break. The third divorce wasn't his fault. She'd been plain nuts and had run off to join a sex cult.
"In here, dear," Boyd said softly, gesturing to Consuela.
Consuela stepped in, wearing her French maid uniform, one of the few things that Boyd insisted upon. There was something about the black and white ruffles, the pleated skirt and the white choker with a thin black ribbon tied in a bow that did something for him. His wife didn't care what Consuela wore as long as the house was clean.
"Good morning, Señor Boyd," Consuela said in her breathy, heavily accented sing-song English. "Would you like me to massage you this morning?"
"I would like that of all things, Consuela," Boyd said, smiling. He threw open his robe, and she stepped over behind the desk and dropped to her knees.
'Massage' was their code word for blowjob.
Consuela fished Frank's penis out of the flap in his boxers. He was of average size and uncut, which Consuela had found odd at first. She'd never seen an uncircumcised penis before, and it had taken a little getting used to. But Boyd was always generous with spot bonuses, and they always seemed to come after he got a 'massage,' so she was happy to oblige him.
She took his entire penis into her mouth and began to suck gently. Boyd closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the young woman's tongue bathe him in pleasure. He could feel the blood rushing to his cock, and soon she was stroking his full erection.
Consuela pulled back for a moment and pulled the loose front of her uniform down, baring her braless breasts. She knew Frank was a breast man, and as soon as hers were bared, he reached down to tweak her nipples, earning him a broad smile from her dark-skinned face.
She was soon back on his cock, slurping away hungrily. Consuela felt her pussy begin to moisten, and she began to hope that this massage would turn into a fuck session, as some of them did.
"Stand up," Frank said, and Consuela felt a small thrill shoot through her as she realized this was going to be one of those occasions. "Turn around," he ordered.
She smiled again at him and did was she was told, bending over the desk and presenting her ass to her employer. Frank's hands slid up under the short black skirt of Consuela's uniform and found a bare ass with no panties.
"You were hoping for this, were you?" He asked, a sly grin on his face.
"SÃ, Señor Boyd!" Consuela nodded vigorously, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder. Her breasts were on full display, and Frank flipped the flap of her skirt up so he could get a look at her brown bottom.
His dick was wet with her saliva, and she was clearly ready for him, so he lined his cock up with the entrance to her pussy and began to slowly enter her.
Consuela bit her lip, holding back a whimper, and pushed back against him, helping Frank to bury his cock in her welcoming hole. The pair began to thrust together gently, slowly, enjoying the feel of each other and doing their best not to make any noise.
The phone rang.
The phone's jangling bell tore through the silence of the office like a sabre through flesh and startled both Frank and Consuela, who pushed away from each other like they'd been scalded. Consuela stuffed her tits back in her dress and flipped her skirt back down, jumping away from the desk. Frank pushed his still hard cock between his legs, closed his robe and tightly belted it. In less than two seconds, they were so prim and proper no one would have guessed they'd just been fucking.
The phone rang a second time, and Frank looked at it, and then looked at the clock on the wall. It was just after six. Nobody ever called him with good news this early. He was tempted to let it ring, but there was an extension upstairs in their master bedroom, and no sleeping pill on earth had ever kept his wife from hearing the phone ring. He knew she'd be up. Frank waved Consuela out of the office and picked up the phone. She scurried out and closed the double doors, leaving Frank to take the call by himself.
"Boyd," he said into the receiver.
"Frank, it's Victor. I need your help," the voice said on the other end of the line. "The car blew up, and Elizabeth is dead, and I don't know what to do, Sally is here and she's okay but I was cut up and I've got some burns and Elizabeth is DEAD and the police want to ask me questions and..."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on, Victor. Calm down. Count to ten. Where are you?"
The phone paused and Frank could almost hear a ten count. "Where is this?" Victor said, his voice faint as if he was holding his hand over the receiver. "I mean, where am I?" A pause and then he came back at full volume. "Yavapai Community Hospital. In Prescott, Arizona."
"Why the hell are you in Arizona?" Frank said, rubbing his face and trying to make sense of what his 'boss' was telling him.
"Elizabeth wanted to see the Grand Canyon. So we went. On the way back, we stopped so I could take care of the baby. I walked away from the car, and it exploded. Elizabeth is dead!" Victor said, his voice breaking. "The police want to interview me. I don't know what to do, Frank!"
Frank gripped the phone receiver tightly. An explosion? Victor's wife dead? His mind raced with the possibilities, and he felt a sinking feeling in his gut. This was the kind of thing that brought unnecessary attention. Cars don't just explode.
Frank had been in Vegas for a long time. He'd seen Mob hits in the past, but he knew it was exceedingly rare for the Mob to hit a family member, and he had no idea what Victor could have done to draw their ire. That was assuming this was what it seemed to be. Victor was brand new and just a kid -- his age on stark display right now. He had never heard Victor speak like this before. Normally he was in control of everything, especially his emotions, but now he sounded his age.
Fortunately for him, though, Frank had been through this before. Victor had made the right call. With the confidence that comes from experience, he calmly explained to this young executive what was going to happen next.
"Okay, Victor. Listen to me. First, calm down. I know things are crazy right now and you're grieving, but everything is going to be okay."
"Okay?! My wife is DEAD, Frank!"
"I understand, Victor, and I'm sorry. But you've got to think clearly, and you've got a little girl to worry about, okay? Let's deal with the immediate issue. I'm going to send a guy your way. Wait for him and do not talk to anybody, especially the police, until he gets there. Understand?" Frank started flipping through the rolodex on his desk, looking for a well-worn card.
"Who are you sending?" Victor asked.
"A fixer. One of the best in the business. He'll be there in a few hours. Hang in there, okay?"
He heard a loud sniffle from the other end of the phone, and then the line went dead.
The door to Frank's office opened and his wife stepped into the room. She was wearing a red silk robe and apparently nothing underneath it, as he could see a generous portion of cleavage where the robe was loosely tied. She had no makeup on, and her hair was a wild mass of blonde curls, but she still looked pretty good. His dick, which was still semi-rigid from Consuela, began to stiffen.
"Who was that, Frank?" she asked. "And why are you up so early?"
