Working in the ads is great. You earn a lot of money, well, in fact you earn a shitload of money. You meet new people on a daily basis and you can pretend to be a creative part of society. Working in the ads is also fucking terrible. You have the ad-people from various big companies throwing their money at you, but in return demanding you sell your soul for their product. A product barely anyone needs and even less people can afford. Our job is to try to sell it to them. Basically, we take from the people we poison with the shit we create.
My name is Robert Palmer, and that's one of my stories. If it's true or not, I'm sure you won't be able to tell. After all, I'm a copywriter, and I'm trained to lie to you. On the other hand, my story will sound to you like another one of those stories everyone likes to read, but barely anyone ever actually experienced. Well, you're the judge.
It all started out quite innocently. It was a Friday night, and although the names of days don't mean anything to our working schedule, it actually was the end of a working-period for us. Us, that's my department. We were currently working on a product you've by now all probably heard of, most of you have tried it, and some more have definitely become steady consumers. Here we go, another job well done. But I'm digressing.
Craig, a colleague who was part of our team and responsible as a liaison for the companies we did jobs for, came up to me just as I was getting my stuff together.
"Hey Rob, great work. I'm so fucking glad we're almost done with that shit. I think we should celebrate that tonight. And since I know you a bit, I'm sure you won't sit at home all alone celebrating, right?"
"Well, Craig, to be honest, I was looking forward to getting the hell out of here and picking up some chick at the club!" I answered, laughing.
So here' some explaining to do. The Club was a place called "The Cube", but everyone always referred to it as "the club". And regarding what Craig had said to me, well...I was 30, I was single, but I didn't have any problems waking up in the morning with a beautiful woman next to me. I was good-looking and I had money...it wasn't difficult to find some woman to fuck for just one night. Some people may call that behavior detestable, for me it was a way of life. I wasn't looking to get married any time soon, so why bother?
Craig was laughing too.
"Well then, why don't we meet at the club...I need to pick up my wife, she wants to party too tonight!" he said. I just nodded and made my way out.
So Craig was going to bring his wife. I had never seen her before, although they'd been married for four years now. Craig had told us a great deal about her, and from what he had told us, she was quite a hot number.
I got in my red convertible. Another piece which fit my lifestyle. A single man in his thirties with a red convertible...I admit it, it was a bit flashy. But hey, I did have the money and the opportunity, so why not?
I parked my car a few blocks down from the club, and on my way down there I already noticed that it was going to be a hot night. There were crowds of girls in fuck-me-boots standing together giggling and laughing, obviously ready to enjoy a hot party at the club. I was sure more than one of those gullible little sluts would be willing to come with me and enjoy a nice romp. I especially like those eighteen to twenty year olds. They were so easily impressed by my superficiality. But hey, I wanted to fuck, they wanted to fuck, so no harm done.
When I came to the line of people waiting to get inside the club, Charly, the bouncer, had already recognized me. He waved at me and I just walked past the crowd of party-folk, getting inside the club without paying and without waiting. In their eyes, I was a fucking god. And I loved that.
Inside, I made my way to the VIP area. A place a bit elevated, with nice large sofas and waitresses. Can you belief it? Waitresses in a club! Well, I took a seat, and soon Stacy, a dizzy blonde girl came by, asking me for my order. When she was on her way getting me my Vodka-Martini, I scanned the crowd, and I wasn't disappointed. There was so much new opportunity on that dance-floor, I knew I'd just have to snap my fingers and in a flash a few girls would be sitting on my lap. Well, I'm in advertising, so you better not take me literally.
After Stacy, the blonde waitress with big tits and a small brain had brought my drink, I just sat there waiting for the other guys from the office. Soon a few came in, but before they would even order a drink, they started attacking the dance-floor, already on the lookout for their evening's entertainment. We were quite a restless bunch indeed.
Just when I myself had decided to get up and go to the dance-floor, I noticed Craig coming in. Walking behind him, there was just what I had had in mind for that night. A brunette girl, approximately 22, with a face so pretty and cute, I would have married her on the spot, had I not been a womanizer by heart. She was wearing one of those silky tops which left the whole back uncovered and folded nicely between her ample breasts. In my opinion, wearing a top like that with such cleavage was almost a crime. To top it off (please excuse that pun, but it's what we do all day), she was wearing one of those ultra low cut jeans. It clung to her hips, which were a bit unusual. Her frame was not a typical anorexic teenager's frame, but she filled out those jeans very nicely, and I was sure that ass inside those jeans was a revelation. A big, round, firm revelation.
To my utter despair, that woman behind Craig grabbed his hand while they were making their way towards my sofa, and I knew she must have been Shirley, Craig's wife. I was out of luck with this one. I would never touch her, with Craig being a colleague and friend.
Craig introduced us as much as was possible underneath that cloud of wavering bass and other acoustic gimmicks typical to club-music. Shirley seemed like a very amiable person, and I would have been surprised had she not. I estimated Craig's taste in women to be very delicate, and so it didn't come as a surprise that Shirley was neither ugly nor stupid.
They both sat the sofa opposite me and we screamed at each other, trying to be louder than that multi-million sound system the club sported. You probably know how well that works. Soon, Shirley and Craig decided to dance, and Craig motioned for me to come with them.
On the dance-floor, Shirley proved what I had already assumed earlier. She was a once-in-a-lifetime girl. He movements as she gyrated against her husbands crotch were so breathtaking, I'm sure I wasn't the only one admiring her curves and her grace. With every move, her swaying tits defied all physical laws of gravity, that silky top sparkling in all colors of the rainbow. I know, it sounds like a fucking fairy-tale, but there really was a woman who was better than anything I had ever seen before.
I then knew it was time to distract myself. I couldn't dance there all night, admiring my friend's trophy wife. I turned and soon spotted a few girls I thought wouldn't mind going to the sack with me tonight. I made my way towards one of them, and after a few songs, we were making out in a corner of the club. She was a blonde with medium tits, wearing a white top and a short black skirt and boots...after a few seconds I also knew that she wasn't a fan of underwear. Like the slut she was, I was soon pumping two fingers in and out of her wet pussy. Her moans were muffled by my mouth and obviously, we were still in the club, so what is true for conversation is especially true for moaning. I already had a hard-on and was about to convince my newfound friend that she should have a look at my hard longtime-friend, when someone tapped my shoulder.
I whipped around and looked into Shirley's eyes. Fuck, I think I had never let go of a pussy that quick before. That girl I had just finger-fucked stumbled backwards a bit, and I was not even able to apologize since Shirley grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the club into the cool air of night.
"Rob, I'm really sorry for that just now...but something came up and I had to talk to you!" Shirley said. Her pretty face looked really apologetic, and I couldn't help but fight an urge to fall in love right then.
I put up my cool face...
"Shoot," I said.
"Well, Craig just got a phone call from the office...he needs to fly to Los Angeles now, there's something the company wants him to work out. It's ultra-urgent, and he needed to go to the office first. He told me I should ask you to give me a ride home, since he won't be able to do that, and he doesn't want me to take a taxi, and he said to ask you because he trusts you, and...." She was out of breath.
I laughed.