My libido, as an eighteen year old boy, was off the charts. I don't know why I kept Madison's panties, but in her absence they were the next best thing. To be honest, just the sight of them got me hard.
I hit the bar with the patio several nights in a row after our dinner date, but there was no sign of Madison. I kept imagining her on the floor of a limousine, or on a King Size bed in a First Class hotel getting jerked off on, for cash.
Not knowing what she was up to was driving me out of my mind with jealousy, but it was also stoking my desire for her, and I had a permanent erection as I fantasized about her with other men. Each time I entered the patio bar I was hopeful that I would encounter Madison. I would park my Lamborghini in the valet-parking area, clearly visible to all of the patio patrons, enter the bar and approach George for any intel on Madison.
I think he could tell just how worked up I was because he was very sympathetic as he informed me that he hadn't seen her. I was starting to wonder how long it might be before I bumped into her again, and I cursed my lack of assertiveness in asking for her phone number. As I circulated the bar and the outdoor patio area, I was approached by several young women, with various degrees of aggressiveness.
A few of them were stunning, Newport Beach "tens" in their own right, but chemistry is a very difficult thing to quantify, and I wasn't feeling it with any of these young hotties. I had to marvel at the approach some of them took, and wondered if I would have had the same level of celebrity, had I driven my Ford truck to the bar. A few of the young girls blocked my path to initiate conversation, some of them asked me to join them for a drink, a couple even asked me to take them for a spin in my car. Occasionally, I did invite one of the beautiful women to join me for a drink, but as we spent time together it only highlighted how much I liked Madison.
Madison was classy, educated, articulate, opinionated and knew how to hold my attention. In contrast, even though some of the young Newport Beach hotties were model-quality, I felt no chemistry towards them. A couple of times I was tempted to take one of the babes home, the relaxed attitude towards random hookups that pervades today's young people, making sex a sure thing. However, on each occasion I left the bar alone, and ended up masturbating furiously into Madison's silky scented panties.
I came close to taking Olivia up on her offer of a repeat encounter twice, but fortunately for me my big head took control of my little head on both occasions. To my surprise, my body reacted favorably to Olivia, which gave me hope that I would find sexual interest in somebody other than Madison, in the future.
The first time Olivia propositioned me for a repeat visit, she was wearing her black leather pants and her dog collar, the visual bringing back vivid memories of the way she had allowed me to dominate her. We enjoyed a couple of drinks together and she offered to come home with me, at the reduced fee of five hundred dollars, with everything included. I took this to mean that I could urinate on her again and was tempted to take her up on her invitation. However, at the last minute I had a change of heart, preferring to stay faithful to Madison, even though I had no clue whether or not Madison was being a good girl.
Olivia made it very clear to me that anything I desired was available, but she could tell I was hung up on Madison. So, being a resourceful and enterprising courtesan, she engineered a scenario that I just couldn't refuse. I don't know how she was able to pull it off, but a few nights later, as I sat home alone enjoying a cocktail, I got a text from Olivia.
"Madison is here," the text began. "And she is looking good!"
The text was accompanied by a photo of my girl and she was definitely looking good. I don't know who had taken the picture, but it was taken from above and behind, as Madison was playing pool in the games area below the main bar. She was bent over the table, wearing one of her trademarked tailored suits, the hem of the skirt rising up her shapely legs exposing the straps of her ever-present garter-belt. As she leaned over the rails of the pool table, she had raised her right leg from the floor to maintain her balance, the red sole of her color-coordinated Louboutin shoe, confirming her identity, even as her face was hidden from view.
Seconds later, as my cock stiffened in my pants, my phone rang.
"Get your ass down here Pete," Olivia said cheerfully. "Grab your girl before someone else does."
I had imbibed a couple of vodkas already and decided I need to get a cab to the bar. Having an Orange Lamborghini was a great way to meet girls, but it also garnered a ridiculous amount of attention from law enforcement. I had been pulled over multiple times by the Newport Beach Police Department because I am eighteen years old, and am an unlikely owner of such an exotic car. For this reason, I told Olivia I was going to call a taxi, but she offered to come and get me instead.
The bar was only about one mile from my house, but most of the taxis in my area are dispatched from the Santa Ana Airport, so I figured it would be much quicker if Olivia came and got me. She arrived less than ten minutes later, during which time I took a quick shower, and pounded another vodka.
I was very excited at the prospect of seeing Madison again, and the alcohol had lowered my inhibitions. When Olivia got to my front door, she waited just outside the threshold, presumably for an invitation to enter my place. Even though we had some history, and were comfortable around each other, our relationship was definitely a professional one, that of client and provider. For this reason, she didn't come in until I extended my hand and asked her to wait inside.
My hair was still wet as I had dressed hurriedly, in an effort to ensure that Olivia was not kept waiting. She ruffled one hand playfully through my hair.
"Let me fix that for you, Pete," she offered sweetly. "You need to look your best for Madison."
Once we entered my bathroom, and I could see Olivia reflected in the ceiling to countertop mirror, I realized just how cute she was. She had straightened her hair, and had applied her makeup in a more feminine, less goth manner. The dog collar and leather pants were gone, replaced by a short, pleated, plaid mini-skirt, with matching tights. She had on a tiny black spandex crop-top, over which she had worn a black mesh top that was completely see through. Knee-high black leather boots completed the ensemble, and made her look dominant, in a feminine way.
Olivia twirled slowly, allowing me to check her out, and presumably trying to secure some future business.
"Hairdryer?" she asked, once she was done displaying her wares.
