"Lucy!"
I sighed and ripped off my sunglasses. "Yeah?"
Mark was still in his suit when he marched out. He'd loosened his tie on his way home from work. An obvious sign of stress from him.
"Why the fuck aren't you getting ready?"
My fingers skimmed down my slick collarbone. Mark traced the movement with his eyes, but he wouldn't be distracted. He glared, waiting for my response.
"Ready for what?"
He groaned. "The dinner, Lucy. The dinner I've talked about all fucking week."
I slid my sunglasses back on. "I told you to come up with some excuse for me. Tell them I have a migraine or whatever."
"So help me God, if you aren't up and in the shower in one minute I will lose my shit."
"Ooo," I mocked. "These dinners are horrible. The men are dull as fuck and I hate their wives."
Mark grinned and walked over to stroke my hair. "Yeah, yeah. They hate you, too. How can they not, when you look like you do?"
I brought his hand down and nibbled on his fingers. "Careful. You're about to pay me a compliment."
His other hand went to his fly.
My eyebrows lifted. "What about dinner?"
"We can be late."
A few seconds later his cock popped out--shiny and amber-colored, thanks to my sunglasses. I palmed it. How odd I still found cocks, even after all these years, even after all the sticky fumbling in the back of used Toyotas. They were just hard cylinders with bulging veins. Ugly, really. But I loved them all the same. I loved running my hands over them, jacking them off until they emitted my prize. It was the ultimate pat on the shoulder. If they came on my chest, I'd think with a smirk that it was my badge of honor.
Mark grew impatient and pulled my hair. "Give me head."
"We're going to be late."
He laughed. "A blow job is reason enough to miss appetizers."
"The way I blow you, you'll be lucky enough to make it to coffee."
He pressed his cock to my lips. "All this talk. Swallow my cock, Lucy."
I licked the sides of his cock first. It made me laugh to see how his face changed, how in this minuscule way I held such startling power. His eyebrows scrunched down, his mouth dropped open, his hands fisted. How miraculous my mouth could be to a man, just by using my tongue.
I flattened my tongue against his head. My hands lifted, grasping his heavy balls.
"Fuuuuck," he moaned.
I sucked him in, contracting the inside of my cheeks around him. His hands tightened in my hair when he felt the velvet of my cheeks rubbing against his hardness.
"Been thinking about this all day."
"Really?" I asked, pulling away. "I thought you'd been thinking of dinner all day."
He became impatient and fisted my hair. "Open up that smart mouth."
I did as he asked. The blow job was sloppy. Saliva ran down my cheek, finding its home down inside my cleavage. He eventually became wild and impatient, fucking my mouth. His hands squeezed my tits, caressed my head, pet my cheek.
"I'm gonna come," he eventually grunted.
I swallowed all of him down and wiped my mouth. He loved it when I drank his cum with one swallow.
Mark zipped up his pants, tucked in his shirt. He even straightened his tie. "You have fifteen minutes to fix yourself up."
____
I emerged closer to a half hour later. My dress was salmon-colored, and honestly was too scant for a business diner. Mark barely reacted when I rushed downstairs, however, so I assumed it wasn't a big issue.
The drive over was silent. A valet stood outside Nick's house. Mark flicked a twenty at the valet and ushered me inside, an insistent hand at my lower back.
The first time I met Nick and his wife, she made a forever impression on me. He was about 5'6; Denise neared 6 feet. Her hair was bleach blonde and she was far too skinny to be considered healthy. She only ever wore blue, and she did not disappoint this night. Her dress was a clinging silk, sparkling near the bust. She was at least a decade older than me, but when she spoke she sounded as though she were three decades younger.
Her hands were even fucking gloved when they accepted mine. "Lucy," she smiled. "So glad you could make it.'
"How are you, Denise?"
We chitchatted about nothing for a few minutes. The other women waved hello as enthusiastically as their acting skills would permit. The truth of the matter was that the other ladies, as plastic and boring they might have been, outclassed me. They came from wealthy families, bosses or business partners. My father was a plumber and my mother was a teacher. I didn't see them much anymore.
I caught a few of the men giving me blatant appraisals. I smiled at a few of them, basking in the attention. Plus, if it pissed off a few of the Barbies it was worth it.
"Have you met Luke yet?" Denise asked with a naughty grin.
I grabbed a flute of champagne off a server's tray. "Luke?"
One of the other wives--Patricia--moved closer to us. "You haven't met Luke yet? Oh, you're going to die."
I rolled my eyes. They were acting the same way they did when David joined the firm. The ladies went crazy over him until they found out he was gay. He was handsome, intelligent, sarcastic and belligerent. And my best friend.
He came to these functions less and less, however, and more often than not I was left to fend for myself. I looked around hopefully, hoping to spot him. Patricia laughed and assumed I was trying to find Luke.
"He's not here yet." When I gave her a look, she mouthed, "Luke."
"Well, is David coming tonight?"
Denise finished off her glass of champagne. "He's inside, somewhere. And Luke will be here in time for dinner. Patricia has a bit of a crush--"
"We all have a bit of a crush," Patricia interjected, her cheeks red. "Don't pretend he hasn't entered your fantasies, too."
Ew. I repressed a shudder and shot Mark a glare. He tipped his glass at me. It didn't seem fair that I be subjected to these women when he got to stand with his legs spread, a nice cigar in hand, and talk about whatever he pleased.
"Wait until you see him, Lucy. Seriously--he's a killer," Denise giggled.
Patricia looked me over. "Mark didn't say anything about him?"
I was tired of hearing about some guy who was going to end up being a carbon copy of most of the men here, even if he was hot.
I opened my mouth, intent on saying so, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. David was behind me, looking as dapper as ever. I gave him a big hug-- a rarity for me.
"Thank God you're here," I whispered in his ear.
"Well, we're going inside to check on the food. See you in a bit," Denise said, dragging Patricia behind her.
David watched them run inside with a smile. "They're off to talk about us."
The girls never entirely bought that David was gay when they saw what good friends we became, and how David rarely spared them a "hello". They became convinced we were having an affair.
"Ugh, I'm so sick of them already tonight. They keep going on and on about Luke. Speaking of which, how come you haven't mentioned this new guy to me? You've never spared me the details when a sexy guy enters your orbit."
David's smile faded and he rolled his eyes. "That's because I don't find him sexy. He's a prude, really."
"How so?"
"You'll see what I mean." Then David smiled and pinched my stomach. "What's new with you, baby? Has Mark persuaded you to let him knock you up yet?"
I shuddered. "No. I haven't stopped taking the pill, either."
For the past year, Mark dropped hints he wanted to start a family. Most of the other lawyers in the firm had children already, and Mark refused to be outdone. I managed to talk him into waiting, but with every day he became increasingly impatient. And Mark always got his way.
David glanced at Mark with raised eyebrows. "Does he know that?"
"Hell, no. He'd flip a shit."
"You gotta have kids sometime. It's in the rulebook of domesticity."
I took his arm and walked with him inside. "Is taking another guy's cock up your ass in the rulebook, too?"
David threw his head back laughing. "Not quite, you little bitch."
Of course Denise had a seating arrangement. I looked around for my name on one of her exquisite plates. She sat me next to Laura, the resident druggie. She was always beyond stoned. The other women sometimes bummed Xanax off of her. I stayed away, never finding people who I couldn't have an intelligent conversation with of use to me.
"Looks like we're as far away from one another as possible," David sighed.
"You'll come over and talk to me later, right?"
He kissed my hand. "You know it."
I sat down, threw my napkin over my lap and rubbed my temples. It was going to be a long night. I flicked my gaze over to the name card on the plate next to me and shook my head. I was seated next to the famous Luke, who was late. That meant everyone would be watching him--and by extension, me.
Then the girls' giggles grew in volume and I knew he'd arrived. He wandered into the room and a great silence fell.
Truth be told, I'd expected a blonde and blue-eyed guy with ruddy cheeks and a boy-next-door, innocent kind of aura.
But he was a tall man with a sharp nose, a grim mouth and eyes as black as night. The light shone against them, making their glow appear cruel and alien. They were fathomless as they swept across the room, touching on each face with the barest amount of reaction.
Nick stepped forward and shook his hand. "Luke, thanks for coming, buddy!"
I felt like I was in some lame movie set in the '50's with terrible acting and models desperately trying to become actresses.
