Life Outside the Elysium

This is another chapter in Part 2 of a series that began with Life in the Elysium, which you can find

here.

I strongly suggest you read the first series before starting this one. For those who just skip to the sex scenes, there will be no issue if you pick up here, but if you want to understand and enjoy the plot more fully, please take some time to read the series, as it will make more sense.

Be aware, this series includes a variety of adult situations, including male bisexuality, interracial sex, light incest, group sex and other taboo subjects that not everybody may be into. I do my best to accurately tag the story, so check those tags in advance to see what you can expect from each specific chapter. If anything in the tags bothers you, there's an entire site here filled with things you may prefer more. In any event, thanks for reading!

Author's Note

: Sorry again about the delay between chapter 13 and 14. I was sidetracked by the Valentine's Day contest and then laid up by a nasty bug that precluded me from finishing Chapter 14 with my usual celerity. I appreciate everybody bearing with me, and I did find all the private notes asking to speed up the publishing to be gratifying, lol. We should be back on the usual schedule here now, and I expect we'll see Chapter 15 by early next week. We are still on pace to finish Part 2 here in a few more chapters. At that point, I'm going to take a short rest, and we'll get started on the conclusion of the story in Part 3. Thanks for all the likes and follows, and as always, if there's anything you want to see, don't hesitate to leave a comment or send me a DM. Enjoy!

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It wasn't long before the ladies had completely taken over my rooms. Claire came up and joined them, so now Mom, Nyla, Avery and Claire were all going dress crazy, trying to figure out what Mom and Avery were going to wear to the State Dinner with the King and Queen. It was exciting knowing we'd not only be seeing the President again but also getting to meet the new King and Queen of England, and potentially the rest of the immediate Royal Family.

I was twelve when the King's grandmother died, and I remember it being a big deal. Her son, the King's father, reigned for eight years until he passed after a long battle with cancer. The new King and Queen were crowned last July. It was all over the news, a big deal, especially given how relatively young they were -- both just forty-nine years old, Mom and Sol's age -- and with teenage children just having come of age. Their eldest, Edward, was just a year younger than me, and their twins Victoria and Mary were nineteen. I assumed they'd be coming to the dinner as well, but I hadn't really been paying attention to any news about the visit, so I really had no idea.

"We're never going to get any peace in here while they're all in dress shopping mode," Sol told me, taking me by my good arm. "Why don't we go get a drink and sit by the fire in my rooms?"

"Sounds like a plan," I told him. The women were in such high spirits, they didn't even notice we'd left. We wandered down the hall to Sol and Mom's apartments, and went in. Sol directed me over to the sitting room off their bedroom, where most of our playtime began, and he poured two highball glasses of scotch. The scotch went down gratefully, and I eased into one of the two fat leather armchairs, which were both facing the fire. I knew they could rotate, and we could watch the lights of Vegas if we wanted, but I felt like looking at the fire.

Sol sat down heavily next to me. He was wearing a white shirt with dark pants, his tie, a red and blue striped affair, was hanging untied around his neck and the top button of his shirt was undone. He must have come from the office. His suit jacket was nowhere to be found, probably hanging on his door down on the 13th floor.

I was in a white Polo and dark slacks. It was a pain in the ass to put on anything heavier, and I had been wearing my comfy robe a lot when I was in my rooms, but I'd had to put something on when I went to the range earlier and I hadn't changed once I'd gotten back. I had forgotten to shower, but that was also a pain in the ass that involved the unwrapping and rewrapping of my arm, but I was confident that in a couple of days, potentially as soon as my trip home this week, I would be able to get rid of the sling.

"Have you considered my offer?" Sol began the conversation, taking a sip of his scotch. He had changed his scotch on me. I had been expecting a smoky, peaty Lagavulin from Islay, but he'd gone to the Highlands instead, and this tasted like an older Macallan, maybe the 18 year. Good, but not my favorite.

Sol must have thought I wanted to talk to him about his offer for me to take over the Oasis. It hit me that I hadn't yet told him I'd do it, even though in my mind for weeks now I'd been assuming it was a done deal, and I'd already accepted the job. Well, great -- we could talk business and then I could ask him how he dealt with Mom's constant need for dick.

"Yes, and I talked it over with Avery and we both think it's the chance of a lifetime. I'd be an idiot not to take it," I told him. "I've been working on ideas in my head. Once I get everything straight, I'll come to you with a business plan and all the numbers. I'm really looking forward to this," I told him, truthfully. I would miss not being in the Elysium on a daily basis, which I had been looking forward to after graduation, but I knew we'd only be a short couple mile drive away.

"Excellent! I knew I could count on you," he said, grinning. He put his scotch down and so did I, and he leaned across his chair to me. We shook hands on the deal. It felt all official now, and I felt the warm glow and excitement of a new challenge flowing through me.

"I've been over there, and let me warn you, the place needs a lot of work."

"I know. It needed a lot of work when I was running things for Winnie almost ten years ago. I can't imagine how it could get any worse, but I know Chesterfield. That property hadn't held his attention for thirty plus years. Have you thought about what you want to do with it?"

I wasn't sure how much detail I wanted to get into with him, not until I'd had a chance to flesh things out a bit, but it wouldn't hurt to give him the general gist. "Vegas has a lot of different casinos. You've got the big ritzy gambling palaces like the Empire Luxe. You've got places like the Atlantis that are more family friendly, with the water park theme and you've got the Elysium, which caters to the sexual market like no other hotel has ever done. With all the ADL shit going on last year, it feels like the trend is going to move towards more sexually open hotels," I told him. "I expect there are going to be a few more of those opening or converting soon."

"Yeah, that's certainly true. Did you want to make the Oasis a miniature Elysium? I don't know if that's a good idea," Sol started. "I don't want our properties competing with each other, especially since Oasis is, unfortunately, a third the size of this place," he said, waving his arms up taking in the room as part of the grander hotel.

"No, I want to go in the exact opposite direction," I told him. "I wanted to make the Oasis exactly that -- a bit of an Oasis in the middle of the Strip. I want it to be a place where everybody is welcome, where people can have a good time and relax, but do it in a cool, fun atmosphere. I was watching Casablanca the other night with Avery, and it hit me -- what if we did a theme hotel? A hotel, set in the 1940s, pretend we're Rick's Café, in the heart of Morrocco, and it's December 1941. Just like Rick's was an oasis in the heart of the city, where people from around the world could go to escape from what was happening in Europe, the Oasis could be that for folks in Vegas. And, in keeping with the theme, we could hire actors to play the parts of the Vichy and Nazi German officials, or other characters from the movie, have them roaming around and interacting with the guests. And of course, have all the usual casino stuff, but make it period appropriate. In the end, it would be the kind of place that generates its own buzz for being unique."

"That's intriguing. You know, Disney tried that with their Star Wars hotel, and it didn't work," he told me. "That was probably before your time, though. You'd have been a teen when it was open."

"I know, and I investigated that when I was doing my planning. They wanted the place to be like a big escape room. I just want the atmosphere and some fun random miniplays that happen around the place. I also want to redo their amphitheater. That place is historic, Elvis Presley's first venue in Las Vegas, and it's a fucking dump. It looks like what I imagine the theater Pee-Wee Herman got busted in looked like," I told him.

He barked out a laugh. "I can't believe you even know that story," he said, chuckling. "But yeah, I've seen their concert venue. There's a reason nobody bigger than Winger has played that place in the last twenty years."

"If we can expand it a bit, that would help. Or, if that's not possible, we can retool it to be a nice, cozy venue. There are plenty of bands, even big names, who like doing the smaller shows. I'll have to talk to Miles about it. That reminds me," I told him. "Have you ever heard Miles sing?"

"Miles? Not that I can recall," Sol said. "Why?"

"Sol, Miles is something special. I've heard him. He's got massive potential. I mean, yeah, Nyla is doing great so far with Elysium Productions, but Miles has this voice..." I was thinking back to listening to him sing Autumn in New York a month ago, how he almost brought me to tears just fooling around with the microphone he got for Christmas. "His voice is amazing. If he can just get over his fear of performing live, which makes no sense to me given he's willing to DJ in front of all those people, he could be a huge star. I'm not kidding."

I could see Sol's jaw clenching and unclenching, and he looked at his scotch, brooding at the amber liquid in his glass.

"It's amazing how you think you know your own family well and then find out there are still things you don't know," Sol said, looking at me. "I'll take your word for it. Maybe we can convince Miles to give us some music one of these nights. I'd like to hear him for myself."

"Trust me, he's great. And speaking of how you think you know your own family, I wanted to talk to you about a completely different subject. This one may be touchy, so if you don't want to talk about it, just tell me and I'll shut up."

"Jack, we've been through a lot together. I don't know if there's any subject that's really off limits between the two of us," he said. He took a sip of scotch and waited for me to continue.

"It's about Mom," I said.

"Okay..."

"Well, it's not just about Mom. It's about me and Avery, but also about Mom. And you. Fuck, this is coming out weird."

"I'm not going to bite. Just tell me what's on your mind, Jack."

So, I did. I told him about the conversation with Nyla, about Avery's history -- I didn't go into all the details, because that was her story to tell, not mine, but I did tell him she had a mental block on sex with men for a long, long time -- and my own fears about being a cuck if I let Avery fool around with other men, with or without me present. He listened silently, and then I saw him crack a smile.

"Your mother is a unique person, Jack. I love her to death. She's the first woman who has connected with me, on a deep level, since Lena. When she came to work here, she was tough, totally hard-boiled, the quintessential corporate shark. But I could see things... the way she'd talk, the way she held herself in meetings, the way that tough face would fall away when we were alone, and I knew there was someone underneath who was scared, sad, and lonely," he said, swirling his scotch in his hand. "Someone exactly like me."

"Like you?"

"Jack, I've had two relationships worthy of the name since Lena was murdered. One was with Sally Hemingway, and that lasted maybe two months, before she stabbed me in the back. The other was with your mother. After Lena was killed, I was terrified. Somebody did that to send me a message, and for more than a year, I was completely on the run, running from my own shadow, blaming myself and my ambitions for getting Lena killed. I couldn't handle any more losses. I worried about Miles and Nyla all the time. I worried about myself. It took me a year before I could confront my demons and fight back. And then, when Sally used me..." Sol, stared into the fire, his face gone slack at the memory. "It was like being kicked when I was down. I swore off women. I mean, I went on dates -- that's when Sheldon Weissman's rags were constantly following me around -- but nothing substantive. It took years before I felt comfortable being with other people sexually again, even after opening this place. And even then, it took Nyla basically seducing me to bring me out of my funk."

This was the most I had ever talked to Sol on any subject in my life. It was odd, sitting here, listening to this man who I thought had it all, who was the rock on which this multibillion-dollar operation rested, opening up to me. He was talking about being betrayed, about being scared and lonely, and sharing a tantalizing glimpse of what happened that ended with him, Nyla and Miles in the same bed.

"So, when you met Mom, you felt like you found a kindred spirit?"

"It was less about finding a kindred spirit and more about two hurt, broken people who were putting a brave face on things finding each other. And when we got together, I think it fixed some of what was broken in both of us. One of the things that was broken in both of us was sex. Your mom had only had one relationship, with that professor of yours, since your father died. I was only sexually active with my own kids. We were both pretty fucked up. So, we made a pact, that we'd enjoy everything the Elysium offered, and both of us could get what we needed wherever we needed it. She didn't hold my being with Nyla and Miles against me, and I agreed she could be with anyone she wanted. That's what we both needed, and we were both strong enough in our commitment to give it to each other. And, frankly, I'm pleased with how things have turned out. I've been having more fun now than I have in a decade."

"You like the tattoos, the breast enhancements, the nipple and clit rings?"

"Jack, come on. Look at your mother. She was cute before. She's gorgeous now. She's a walking, talking, sex machine. How could I be unhappy with that?"

"But all the guys she fucks? Don't you feel like a cuck?"

Sol laughed harder than he had when I made the Pee-Wee Herman joke. "Jack, seriously. Come on, now."

"No, I'm serious. Doesn't it bother you that your fiancée, the woman you love, wants all that extra cock on the side?"

He realized I was serious. He took a few moments, then stood up, refreshed his scotch and offered me a top off. I accepted.

"Jack, you're young. I know there's this tendency in some parts of the population to think that any man who lets his wife fuck other people is some kind of beta male with a tiny dick who can't get it up, or someone who needs someone more virile to service his wife because he can't please her. I'm sure some of those guys exist, and God knows there's enough porn of it, but that's just bullshit fantasy. Look at me. You've seen my cock. You've played with it. You've seen me fuck your mother. Do I look like a cuck? Do I act like a cuck?"

"No, not at all. That's what I'm trying to reconcile in my head," I told him. And he was right. He wasn't one of these balding, fat, pasty white guys who held their women's hands while watching them get railed by three big black cocks. God knows there was enough of that shit on the internet, I'm sure it had to be happening in real life somewhere, too.

"Being a cuck is a state of mind. Some guys like that, I guess. They like degradation. Others just want to keep their wives married to them, because it's easier to let her fool around than get divorced. Some enjoy watching their wives get fucked by other guys and would rather jerk off than do it themselves. There's nothing wrong with any of that, really," he said. "Let people do what they like. That's what this hotel is all about, after all. I'm not going to judge somebody because of what kind of sex they prefer. Hell, I've watched your mother get fucked by other guys and I've always enjoyed it. In the end, if we're doing what we want to do, there's no reason for anybody to judge us for it. I think anybody who thinks I'm some kind of beta male because I'm confident enough that your mom loves me and wants to be with me that I'm willing to let her do what she likes with anybody else ... even you ... well, I think anybody who says that makes me a beta male can say that to my face."

I grinned. This was the Sol I knew and had grown to love, like a father. Among other things.

"What do you think I should do?"

"That's between you and Avery, son. If you think she's ready and she's interested, let her know you're okay with it, assuming you are. If she's not ready and she's not interested, then no big deal. But if Nyla is right and she's holding herself back because she thinks you're not okay with it, then that's something you should address with her, sooner rather than later. You can't build a healthy relationship that's one sided, especially in the sex department. If she starts to resent how free you are with partners while she feels like she can't be, that's just the road to a bad breakup."

Sol took a sip from his scotch. The fire had started to die down, so he stirred it with the poker and threw another log on, then sat back down beside me. "You really like her, don't you?"

"I love her, Sol. I know I'm a kid, and I know that sounds dumb, but I've had just about every kind of experience sexually a man can have, at a lightspeed pace these last two months. With her, though, it's different. She gets me, and I get her. There's nobody I would rather be with than her, and if she told me to give up everything tomorrow, I'd do it gladly. I know I'm young, but sometimes you get things right the first time, you know?"

"Yes, son. I know," Sol said. I thought I saw tears forming in his eyes. He pursed his mouth tightly, and then took a long pull on his scotch, emptying the glass. "Cherish it while you can. Nobody knows how long they've got before it's over," he said, huskily.

I looked down into my own glass, kicking myself. I'd made him think of Lena and what happened. For some things, never was too soon.

"I'm sorry, Sol. I wish I could have known Lena," I said. I meant it. Even though if she were still around, I wouldn't be here, he wouldn't be with Mom and my life would be very different. And not better honestly. I'd have never met Avery, for one thing.

"I wish you could have, too. But there's nothing good that can come out of those kinds of wishes," he said. He changed the subject. His voice got lower, harder.

"I don't trust Liao at all. I know what he told us, but I just don't trust him. Make sure that your plan for dealing with your appeal on the 9th is still in play, Jack. I want you to get that degree. It will make a lot of things easier for you, and for me, when we announce you are taking over the Oasis. I'm sorry we couldn't fix the baseball thing for you, but with your injury, you'd have been out for the season anyway."

I hadn't thought about that before. That was a good point.

"Sol, I am going to beat this bullshit, and then I'm going to turn the Oasis around and eat fucking Liao's lunch. I'm going to send him back to Hong Kong with his tail between his legs," I said, growling. Liao had fucked with me, and it's a must that I fuck with him. It was personal, as far as I was concerned. I know I shouldn't take it that way, but this guy killed one of my dreams and tried to kill another, all as part of some bullshit plot to fuck with Sol. Fuck him. I would put him out of business if it was the last thing I'd do.