And not a cheap one either. He's into some dumb alien action movie that he wants to employ as the theme, and book out an entire cinema with decorations from it like a twelve-year-old. But hey, he's my man, I'm not gonna judge. And of course, he never specifically said I should be the one planning it, but he knows what I'm like, hard-working when I wanna be, and so I think he knows I'm determined to do this for him.
And speaking of work, I made the mistake of mentioning this to my dad who said it was a good excuse to get a job at last. I hadn't much in way of a sturdy retort as he had already given me plenty over the past few years. He had done pretty well for himself as a board member of the college, even now in retirement, and so he'd been fine providing me with handouts as long as I wasn't selling body parts to most of the town's male population. Which of course was the last thing I'd allow to happen.
I'd saved most of what he'd given me, and bought my current car with it for a good deal from that loser I blew, but cum in my mouth from guys like that was the only income I'd been getting.
I obviously hadn't told my dad (or bf) but I had actually come close recently to regular employment, only to blow it before it truly began. Literally. Through a few people my college friend Paula knew, I ended up as an office runner at a corporate law firm just out of town. It wasn't a big practice, about fifteen licensed lawyers and twenty-odd paralegals, so I guess I figured I could make a name for myself through whatever it was - bringing their fucking lattes on time or replacing the markers under the case board slightly more regularly than required. I hadn't particularity wanted a job but even before he'd mentioned it I knew my dad had been getting antsy about my livelihood as a unwaged mooch. And beyond truncating his familial funding into my bank account, I really didn't tell him about the job because of his intransigent views of lawyers ( - derivatively designating them "vultures"). And while he'd always claimed it was a view in vogue or simply without required reason I knew it was because of all the shit he had to deal with after my mom died. Her insurance claim. Some suits helped but some hindered. And still to this day he struggled to take anything other than the negative away from it all. How could you not, I suppose. It was messy. And their messiness was quickly apparent to me working alongside them. I was only three days in when a partner of the firm caught me on the rooftop parking lot, sucking the life out of the cock of an associate who'd promised me a promotion. Which sucked harder because I'd been hoping in a year's time I could come back as a summer clerk. It'd really been in the cards for me. We were both promptly fired and a week later, mid-August, I started up my second year at college. Which was about when my bf informed me of his birthday party wishes. So yeah, great fucking timing.
But of course, anything to make him happy. So fine, I needed cash. And between playing Newcomb ball weekly, my classes starting back up, and dividing the time I had left between my bf and friends, it was difficult for me to formulate a new route that this time wouldn't finish with a dick head finishing in or on me but would still be putting money in the bank. Then just today I was with my bf in his dorm room when he again brought up the party idea after our suck and fuck, and luck struck.
He was laying on his bed, scrolling through something on his phone.
"What you looking at?" I said, pulling on my panties across the room.
"Event planners," he idly responded.
"Ohh okay. Aren't those super expensive?"
He shrugged. "I guess. Depends." Then he glanced up at me. "But, ahem, aren't I worth it?"
He gave a stupid smile and I smirked and rolled my eyes. I still had my top off and he wolfishly stared at my chest as I crossed over to him.
"And are you asking or telling, cutie?" I said.
I ran my hand through his soft fringe and he closed his eyes and smiled.
"A little of both, could be?"
"
A little of both
," I mimicked playfully.
He pulled himself up to his knees and his mouth moved to my breasts and started sucking. I pushed the back of his head gently and moaned.
"Feels more like asking to me," I said.
"Yeah," he moved from one to the other, "I guess it is. But I've never had a
surprise
party."
I smirked. "Not really a surprise if we're talking about it now is it?"
"Well, the
what
isn't," he muttered. His hands moved to my ass and my panties were coming off again. "But that still leaves the who, when, where, how." He looked up at me and frowned. "And what's the other one?"
I chuckled and tugged my panties back up into place. "Nope, you got 'em all smart guy."
I was happy that since both my bedroom endurance and dexterity had skyrocketed he'd been a heat-seeking missile daily headed for my lap. But rewarding greediness I knew could lead to languor, given time. And I didn't have any plans for us to be parting ways. We were good for each other.
He started sucking again when I looked over his head down at his upturned phone and almost stumbled backward.
Fuck!
(And no, it's not what you're thinking - he'd never cheat on me, just like he knew I'd never on him.)
On the event planners' website he'd been looking at was a picture of the owners - a twenty-something tall black guy next to what I guessed was his wife/gf/fiancé, a small Southeast Asian woman with a huge smile. They wore matching gray shirts bearing the company's name and logo -
EVENTUALITIES
.
And I instantly recognized them. Both were students here at the college only a few years ago, back before either me or bf were attending. But because of my dad's teachers group I'd vaguely heard the story about how they'd gotten together back when they were in high school, had joined college together and had quickly become one of the campus couples everyone either liked or said they liked. Aaron Bell, and I think her name was Georgie? Georgia? Fuck knows.
But, the thing was, I knew more about Aaron than just that. Because seeing his eyesome, dark, athletic frame in a full-body shot like that reminded me of my what was my previous, first and really only job up till now. (If we're not counting my loosely three days being loose at the law firm with my first-rate firm sperm fist and lip-shake. (I'm writing this late, so gimme a break.))
See, because everything in town revolved around Bulleens, the college, it was pretty easy even for teenagers to get casual work there. My dad was on the board too, sure, but even he knew any influence on his part did nothing to propel whatever future I wanted for myself toward luminary status. And I
did
want to work, then. When I was 17 and without a clue. Thought the world was a dollhouse filled with boys' action figures that needed shuffling out. I could tidy up around town. The nation, the world. So when I was a high school senior, about four years ago, the staff of the college office gave me a data entry job, which I ended up expanding into quasi-frat/sorority events and logistics planning. They'd crippled my access to total alumni registers but bootstrapping my way back into most of them just cost me a prescribed date and handjob with an admin officer's teenage brother who showed me where the logon password was written down on the officer's desk at home. It was after I'd split with Carl my high school boyfriend but before I'd lost my virginity to Conner the confused college prof - basically I wasn't proffering my pussy for anything yet, even if it meant the unalloyed ability to view every student's personal details and outgoing emails. Yeah, sounds creepy I know, but for me all it ever meant was a way to make more money than being their data entry bitch would give me, and, more importantly, more money than any of my friends' part time jobs at the time. So, anyway, short story long, what it meant was I ended up seeing a few things my artless eyes were surely not supposed to. One of which being that a basketballer (wannabee pro) in Nu Alpha Upsilon Tau (yeah, those fucking Greek life names were another reason I hadn't wanted to get myself into college too fast) was fucking a member of the faculty. Melody Chu, a cute yet far too old for him Leisure Management professor. The dibshit had actually been dumb enough to use his school email, the same he used for the frat, to send her three-quarter-naked gym pics of himself. And a fucking accompanying message.
Wishing you here girl...
I assume she'd told him how braindead that was as I never saw another email from him like it, but it was too late. I had it. I saved screenshots of the exchange to a thumb drive that I still keep in my bedroom dresser.
