If I'm Honest

Chapter Nine -- A Shitload Of Bad Ideas (Olivias 1-3, Kendra, Violet, Aisha)

So, look, the next couple of months were basically filled with me making a ton of stupid, and generally unremarkable mistakes, and while I could just yadda yadda the whole thing, it's important to let you know what you're up against, so I'm gonna run it all down as fast as I can without getting too caught up on any of the little shit along the way.

After I left Colleen in Vancouver and headed back to Seattle, the next person I flexed my power on was a college girl named Olivia, who would turn out to be the first of

three

Olivia's I'd fuck in the span of a season, just through utter dumb luck, and the name apparently being very popular among the twenty-something I was using to get the pressure to ease off.

I could go about two weeks before the bracelet would just start trying to throw every woman around me

at

me, and I learned that from the

first

Olivia, who had bumped into me on the dance floor at a night club, hauled me into a bathroom and fucked my brains out on a dirty club toilet while people were banging on the door that they needed to use the can.

At the end of it, she told me "if I'm honest, you might want to go see a doctor."

You can bet

that

scared the shit out of me.

Turned out, she didn't have anything, but she

thought

she might have, and she'd fucked me

anyway

, and that was the bracelet's first way of telling me I couldn't neglect it, and that I needed to give it a regular chance to express itself every week or so.

The

second

way of telling me the bracelet had was by

actually

talking to me.

Now I know you've already had trouble believing your dad's crazy friend when he's been telling you about this magic bracelet, and it

talking

to him makes him seem even more crazy, but eventually, you're going to start hearing it talk to you. Not a lot. Not often. Just enough to make the whole thing a bit more frustrating than it already is.

I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, Deke,

the voice in my head said on the way back from the doctor's office,

but the gods wait for no man nor woman.

"Who are you?" I remember thinking in my head.

Look at your wrist

, the bracelet said, as I turned my gaze down to see it give a little glimmer.

Hello there.

"What do you want?"

To get you your perfect mate, naturally, but you were in this 'I can ignore this' stage of our relationship, and frankly, I don't have the patience for it this go round, so we're going to move right past it.

"Okay, then what are we moving onto?"

The indiscriminate phase, I imagine, where you think 'I've got nothing to lose, so let's just go find hot women to fuck and forget,' and I can let you have a few months with that, just to get it out of your system. It's fairly typical of all my disciples to go through it. So carry on. Just make sure that you

do

carry on, if you get my drift.

"Disciples?" I thought to myself, but there was no answer. In fact, it would be several weeks before the bracelet spoke to me again.

After Olivia-1 came Kendra, who was a waitress at a high end restaurant that a client took me out to in Chicago, and while the sex was pretty damn amazing, it wasn't until afterwards that I learned

why

it was so damn good.

Turned out Kendra also went by the name Lucy Skydiamond and was an adult film star. Now, for me, that

wasn't

a dealbreaker, but for Lucy, she said, if she was honest, that she wasn't ready to settle down and have a real relationship yet, because she was still discovering what she wanted out of life, both emotionally and sexually. That was about two years ago, and usually I do a monthly search just to see if she's still doing adult content, but the last few months it's come up empty, so maybe she's retired and moved on to the next stage of her life. Who knows.

Around this time, I also got a

long

text from Colleen, who wanted me to know that she was starting an open relationship with an actor up in Vancouver named Colton, and that while we were still on for hookups every now and again, and to keep trading dirty pics, it wouldn't be as frequent, and that she was going to try and make a serious go of it with him.

On one hand, I was happy for her, glad she was trying to find something more emotionally fulfilling than our weird long-distance booty calls, I also felt a little saddened, because I'd really enjoyed just hanging out with her, and knew I was going to miss our weekly two-hour phone chats.

So I was a little down in the dumps when I met Olivia-2, who I sort of knew right away wasn't going to work, but she was

stunningly

gorgeous, and so out of my ballpark that I knew if I didn't take my swing now, I wasn't ever going to get a second.

Olivia-2 was slender, blonde and pale, with striking blue eyes and tits far too full to be real, but her surgeon must have cost a

fortune

because if it wasn't for the size of them, I'd have been hard pressed to say they weren't natural breasts.

I hadn't been planning on finding something that particular day, but I suppose I'd been at least thinking about it. I was down in Malibu, where I was consulting with a vapid reality TV star and her desire to set up a call center for the mobile game company she'd put together to try and eek that last nickel out of her fans. Deplorable woman, awful business model, but the check cleared, and I'm not paid to pass judgment on our clients.

The call center in question was mostly being built as an attempt to discourage chargebacks from parents unaware what their teens had been spending, and from regretful people who didn't realize quite how often they were pushing their "rebuy" button in the time sink game the "star" had signed off on.

After the meeting, in an effort to get the fucking

stink

off me, I'd headed down to the beachfront, just to relax by the seaside, and had ended up looking at all the pretty girls in their bikinis, getting tans, playing volleyball, catching waves.

Olivia-2 had been one of those girls out sunbathing, and when my eye caught sight of her, I distinctly remember thinking, "Could be fun."

Next thing I knew, she and I were fumbling with each other's clothes in changing room and having the kind of quick, frenzied sex people only have when they're terrified of getting caught. It wasn't very satisfying, if

I'm

honest, and it was over almost as quickly as it started.

As she was leaving, she told me on her way out, "If I'm honest, I'd have just left you for the first cute boy I saw, old man."

That'll put a downer in your day.

I started to resent the bracelet on my wrist a little bit, just because it wasn't really offering me help or guidance in what I was doing, just letting me stumble forth and make my own mistakes headfirst, as fast and as painfully as possible.

To be fair, the girl after Olivia-2, Violet, seemed very nice when we first met. I met her one Sunday morning at the farmer's market back home in Seattle. While she was easy on the eyes, a sort of 60's flower girl hippie vibe to her, with a loose sundress, long curly blonde hair and unshaven legs, she was also easy to talk to.

There was a guy who brought up fresh garlic from California once a month, and me and Violet started talking while we were waiting in line at his booth, her standing a couple of people in front of me. One thing led to another, and next thing I knew it, we were sort of on a first date, walking and talking through the market.

She'd come up to Seattle from Portland a year or so ago after finishing college, hoping to find work as a graphic designer, but so far had only been able to get the occasional job here and there, and most of the time was working as a barrista in a Starbucks, which she hated.

I told her about my job, and instead of her eyes rolling and changing the subject, she actually had some interesting questions. We sort of went back and forth for about an hour, and at the end of it, she sort of nervously invited me back to her apartment.

Unlike most of the others, Violet was soft, tender and gentle, and we didn't fuck so much as make love, but even in the middle of it, I sort of knew it wasn't going to work, and that I was mostly just going to be a confidence booster for her.

She wasn't really interested in getting

me

into bed so much as she was just

sharing

her bed with someone for a little while, to stave off the loneliness. At the end of it, she told me she was glad she did it, but if she was honest, we were from two completely different worlds, and in the end, some of those differences were just too much to overcome. I was tempted to argue with her until she continued and said, "Besides, I'd probably spend far too much time trying to turn you vegan."

And that, as they say, was that.

Ain't nobody getting me to give up meat.

Before I left, though, I did my best to try and build up her confidence a little, telling her that she was a lovely girl, and that if she wasn't getting attention from men she was attracted to, she should just go after them, and she thanked me for that several times before walking me to the door. I think she just needed someone else to tell her she could do it, and that's maybe the one bright spot from that dark period of my life.

Good

, the bracelet said inside my mind as I left Violet's apartment,

you're getting a little better at this. You're starting to recognize and respect the process.

"You're an all powerful god," I thought back at it. "Why make me go through all of this?"

Just because I'm the product of a goddess doesn't mean

I'm

a god, kid,

the voice laughed inside of my skull.

And if

you

don't know what you want, how the hell do you expect

me

to know? I'm, basically, just an extension of you, with a little bit of magic on top.

"What next?"

You'll figure it out.

That brings me to Olivia-3, although I would later find out her actual name was Ruby, and god was

this

a fucking mess.

I'd flown to New York for a work thing, because the client wanted 'the velvet touch,' and insisted on an in-person presentation for something that I could've just as easily done over the phone or a video call. They were paying for the flight and hotel, though, so I guess I can't complain too much, not about that part of it, anyway.

They'd brought me out for two days, so I could give the same pitch to two different groups of people, which

was

a little annoying, but they put me up at the Fairmont in a

very

nice suite, and they told me food and drink was comped, so just to charge it all to the room.

That meant when I came across Olivia-3 in the hotel bar, I was already a couple more drinks ahead of where I should've been, and my judgment was a little impaired.

Olivia-3 was the only of the Olivias to

not

be blonde, but instead had a fringe cut of black hair that also had bangs in front framing her face. Her skin was a darker shade of tan, and my first thought was that she might have been Middle Eastern or, like, half-Asian. She was wearing a little black dress with a very low cut top and a slit along both sides that ran all the way up to her waistline, leaving plenty of leg exposed to the eyeline. She also had on incredibly lush red lipstick, something I noticed as she kept smiling at me from the end of the bar.

She was

far

too lovely to be trawling a hotel bar on a Tuesday night, and the attire looked more like a woman heading out on the town, intending to drink for free all evening. But instead of being at a popular nightclub or even one of the more happening bars, she was in the lobby of the Fairmont, drinking alone.

The cynic in me said that meant one of two things -- either she was a businesswoman in town who was waiting for her date, or she was a working girl in search of date. Now I got nothing against either of those two things, but when you have a magic bracelet working in your favor, you don't tend to think about paying for sex.

So when she stood up from her end of the bar and walked in my direction, I was trying to think of the best possible way to politely decline, until she said, "Hey there. Can I buy you a drink?" She set her large purse on the counter on the other side of me, as if trying to wall the two of us off from the rest of the world.

Okay then, I thought, someone who thought she had a date and got stood up, maybe.

"If you like," I said, "but I don't know how great of company a jetlagged business parasite like me is going to be. Still, it's your money; you're free to spend it however you like."

"What're you having?"

"Glenmorangie, on the rocks," I told her.

"Good taste, at least." She glanced at the bartender, who couldn't have looked more bored if he tried. "Two Glenmorangies on the rocks, please," she told him, before turning her attention back to me. "You thought I was a working girl, didn't you?"

"I'm

sure

I don't know what you're talking about," I said with a chuckle.

"Sure you do," she said with an easy-going smile. "Don't worry about it. I'm in from out of town, and I have, well,

had

I guess, a guy I thought I was supposed to be going out on a date with tonight, but it looks like he flaked on me."

"You sure you told him the right hotel?"

"Quite sure," she sighed. "Especially since he paid for the hotel room I'm staying in. I couldn't afford to stay here on my own. He's not answering his phone now, and I bet it's because his wife's got him doing something or other."

"There's your problem," I told her. "Married men are no good for you."

"I guess," she said, picking up a pretzel from the bowl of them atop the bar. "A girl always wants what she can't or shouldn't have." She paused for a long moment. "Are

you

married? I don't see a wedding ring on your finger, but that isn't always the best of signs these days."

"Came close a couple of times, but never seemed to be able to seal the deal," I said, finishing off my first glass as the bartender brought me a new one, and one for the lady next to me. "Not sure if that's a good or a bad sign."

"You were probably just making sure they weren't after you only for your money."

I chuckled a little bit bitterly, pushing the empty glass towards the bartender's side of the counter. "I do okay, but I'm certainly not rich enough to worry about

that

."

"You're staying here, aren't you?"

"On somebody else's dime, sure."

She rolled her eyes with a smile. "

Nobody

pays for somebody

else

to stay here, so I know you're just teasing me now."

"I mean, I

am

just some random guy in a bar, so who's to say how much, if anything, that I'm saying is true or not? The same goes for you."

"Oh, I'm not smart enough to make up some story," she said. "I'm Olivia by the way."

"Derrick," I replied, "although most people call me Deke."

"Well, Deke, here's to enjoying expensive things on other people's dime."

"Cheers."

We enjoyed a couple more drinks, and while I was definitely buzzed, I've learned how to over-exaggerate how drunk I am so that when I say I don't want any more, people tend to ease off a little bit. I also noticed that Olivia-3 didn't seem to getting anywhere near as drunk as I was acting, even though she was supposedly matching me drink for drink.

It was around this time my danger sense had started to go off a bit, especially since she invited me up to enjoy her free suite with her, but I also figured, fuck it, what have I got to lose?

Her room was on the 8

th

floor, and it certainly wasn't as nice as my suite was, but she'd wanted us to come to her room instead of mine, so who was I to argue? She pushed me into the room while she was kissing me, tasting the scotch on both my lips and hers.

I sort of backed into the room and she told me to go over to the bed and make myself comfortable. I wanted to look around the room, but before I could get a chance, she was closing the distance between me and her, dropping the straps of the little black dress off her shoulders so it collapsed into a puddle on the floor, leaving her completely nude beneath.

My eyes widened a little bit and she took her left hand and pushed me back to sit on the edge of the bed as she dropped her purse on the table behind her before moving down onto her knees. Everything was happening so fast, before I knew it, she was bobbing her head in my lap, forcing her face down onto my cock, blowing me with firm intent, her finely manicured fingernails clenching to the outside of my thighs.

Since she was taking care of that for me, I unbuttoned my shirt and slid out of it, while she continued to facefuck herself on my shaft, hellbent for leather, as if the only thing she cared about was making me cum, the sounds of her forcing the tip of my dick into her throat making filthy gulping sounds in between frenzied breaths.

"Hey hey hey," I said, my hand along the back of her head. "I feel like I should be doing

something

here."

She let her mouth slip from my cock with a wet pop that sounded like a massive bubble cracking open, as she turned to gaze up at me with her brown eyes. "Oh yeah? You wanna fuck me, Deke? That what you want?" I could see she'd left lipstick smeared all over my dick, as I nodded to her.

"Isn't that what you want?"

"You think you can fuck me better than he would've?" she said, standing up before sitting down on the bed next to me, her ass on the edge of the bed as she laid back, sliding her hands down her sides before hooking them behind her thighs, pulling them back until she was practically wearing her ankles as earrings. "Show me, then. Show me how you can enjoy what that prick's missing."

I stood up and moved around to crawl on top of her, pushing her back just a little bit, as she reached behind her to grab a pillow, pulling it behind her shoulders and head to keep her propped up a little bit as I guided my cock into place and then thrust forward, as a calamitous moan ejected from her throat, her head nodding feverishly.

"Yeah yeah fuck yeah fuck it fuck it fuck me," she hissed at me, hurriedly, "drill that fucking hole so fucking good GOD I wanna feel you so fucking deep in me, using me. Do it you bastard take your fucking fill of me."

My hips were doing the best they could, and the angle let me push very deep into her, the mattress springs creaking in appreciation or protest, it was hard to tell. My balls slapped against her ass each time I crushed down on top of her, and one of her hands reached between her thighs to start jamming her fingertips against her clit, swiping back and forth in a dizzying pace until a jet of clear liquid splashed forth from her up against me, gushing all over the top of the bedspread, as a scratchy desperate moan was strangled from her throat.

I didn't stop fucking her throughout all of this, and moments later, she snapped back into focus and snarled at me. "It's your turn, you motherfucker, so you gotta give it to me. You gotta fill me up, or paint me up. You wanna do it inside of me? Or maybe you just wanna shoot in over my belly? Maybe my tits? Or maybe you wanna paint my fucking face? You wanna make me look like a filthy fucking cumslut, drenched with your spunk? I don't care where you fucking do it, but you gotta fucking do it... I want it so fucking bad..."

I let her legs slide down and then pulled my cock from her cunt, moving to stand at the edge of the bed, grabbing her hips to slide her off back onto her knees, bending her backwards as I pushed my cock back into her mouth and held it there, feeling her hands grabbing onto my ass, as I started to blast my cum into her throat, feeling her cough and sputter but still holding it there, even as the gag reflex was struggling, before drawing back, although only so far as her hands on my ass made sure I didn't pull out as her lips nursed and milked the rest of my load from me, swallowing all of it.