Filthy Dirty Normal, Volume 4 Page 4

  And what did that say of the good girl Thad had once known?

  Kaylee moaned quietly as the guy thrusted into her. Each time his cock emerged, Thad watched its length glisten with Kaylee’s lubrication. Then it vanished inside again, and Kaylee’s ass gave a tiny clench, and her head pressed an inch closer to the wall, and her arms flexed against the pressure, and she gave a little sigh.

  Watching her get fucked was simultaneously enough of a turn-on to make Thad’s erection painful, but at the same time he found himself watching her face and her smooth breasts and wanting to hold them and kiss it. He didn’t know which was going to break first — his dick, or his heart.

  The guys’ thrusts quickened. It had only been a few minutes, but Thad, with his admittedly limited sex-in-public experience, figured that these kinds of encounters weren’t the kind of things you drew out. You just got your rocks off, finished up, and…

  He’s going to come soon.

  The thought, though obvious, was like a gunshot to the head. Coming in or on Kaylee would seal the deal in some way, ensuring that his girl was sullied as completely as possible.

  In the moment, though,Thad didn’t mind. He only wanted to know where it would happen, and if he’d get to see it. But the surprise was that apparently, Kaylee was going to beat him to it.

  “I’m going to come,” she said. “Oh God, Thad, I’m going to come!”

  Okay, that time she’d said Thad for sure.

  But the thought was lost as she did come, as her middle clenched and the contraction tipped her pelvis under, pulling her ass downward and, it seemed, gripping her man’s cock even harder. Kaylee held most of her sounds in, but her ass continued to roll against his cock, grinding it, her arms buckling. She rested her head against the wall, seeming to crumple into it, and rode waves of what looked like a brief but intense orgasm.

  Behind her, the guy gripped her ass and pounded her harder. Then, finally, he pulled out and pumped his cock with his fist. It looked like he meant to come on her back, but his legs betrayed him, and his streams instead hit her open, wet lips. Some mental trickery in Thad’s mind swapped him into the action, and in his imagination he saw himself delivering the blasts, Kaylee against the wall in front of him, open to him from behind and dripping, her pussy still clenching on nothing, and saying, Fuck me Thad, fuck me Thad, shoot your cum all over me, Thad…

  When it was over, Kaylee ran a finger across her soaked rear like a squeegee. A line of cum fell to the ground. Then she held the finger up, looked at the guy, and laughed. She gave the finger a flick into the corner, shaking it to dry it. Then she pulled up her panties, moved her skirt and shirt back into place, and said, “How do I look?”

  “Good enough to screw in a stairwell,” said the guy, who’d already tucked himself back up.

  “And anywhere else, right, Chad?”

  Chad, then, thought Thad, his heart pounding out of his chest in the bushes. That would explain why he’d heard Thad. She obviously hadn’t said Thad.

  But what if she did?

  But of course, she hadn’t.

  Thad’s heartbeat had already come down, but his penis hadn’t gotten the message that the show was over. He’d just have to live with it. He wasn’t going to be the guy who watched and jerked off in the bushes.

  “And anywhere else,” Chad agreed, leaning in to kiss her on the lips.

  Thad remained perfectly still as they came out of the stairwell, and allowed them to leave before moving. Then he gave a large, audible sigh, and began slowly to follow — because where they were going was where his car was parked.

  He still wanted to talk to her. He wanted to talk to her more than ever. But he couldn’t do it now. The timing was too suspicious.

  He’d have to come back another day. Maybe as soon as tomorrow. He could even try to call her tonight, but simply showing up at her door after what had just happened was out of the question. She might be suspicious. And what was more, he wouldn’t trust himself to look into her eyes and not see her glorious breasts, her inviting mouth, and everything between her legs.

  And he didn’t trust himself — in a strange, strange way — to not fall in love/lust on the spot.

  Thad walked the quarter mile back to his car in silence, feeling as if everyone was looking at him. And when he got to his car, he remembered that not only were his keys locked in the car, but that his phone was in there too.

  He looked at Kaylee’s dorm. Chad the Public Fucking Man came out and, not looking at Thad because Thad was just another dude in a parking lot, climbed into a Jeep and drove away.

  Thad sighed.

  Then he put his hands in his pockets, and plodded toward Kaylee’s dorm.

  Christmas Party Pleasures

  “Oh come on, Taylor,” said Ken Parcells, who managed several of the company’s biggest accounts and really should have know better. He shouldn’t even be here, but neither should Taylor, and neither should Jessie. Neither should Nick or Heather. Neither should any of the others — all of whom had, by the late hour, eaten their share of cookies and gotten their share of drunk and Xeroxed their share of asses before finally going home, leaving only the five who remained. But t’was the season to be merry, so merry they were all trying to be, under Ken’s merry but oppressive holiday thumb. To skip out now and allow the Christmas after-party to end, Ken implied, was akin to being Scrooge himself.

  Taylor shook her head of straight blonde hair. “The game is rigged. You’ll cheat. And then you’ll take pictures and post them on the company website.” Her words were accusatory, but her manner was sly and cordial. She’d do what Ken was suggesting. Jessie knew she would. She might have done it even without any intoxicants in her system, and they’d been passing around joints for over a half hour. Even Jessie — who was usually pretty straight-laced — was feeling loose.

  The idea of smoking anything in the office (and joints especially) was strictly, strictly, under-penalty-of-death-and-dismemberment forbidden, but Ken had it all figured out. He’d opened a window and had put a fan in it, pointing out, which he said would suck the room air out into the December night. Because it was cold, they’d taken three space heaters and put them fifteen feet from the fan to counterbalance the chill from the window, placed now on the opposite side of the round lunchroom table. The fan would suck the smoke outside, and it would pull the the heat from the space heaters behind it.

  Ken even volunteered to sit nearest the window himself. Nick Reinings said he’d sit nearest the heaters. The three women could sit on the sides, where it wasn’t too cold and wasn’t too warm, but was instead juuuust right.

  “In the middle, like in a man sandwich,” Ken said, joking but not joking at all. This was all his plan, and Jessie had deep suspicions that it’d been his plan for absolutely forever. He’d probably been working on Taylor (who was his prime target) and Heather (who made for a nice secondary target) for weeks or months, planting subtle suggestions in a masterpiece of manipulation. Ken was a salesman. He understood the subtle arts of influence and manipulation just fine.

  And Jessie? Ken seemed to figure that Jessie could come along for the ride if she wanted, but it probably didn’t really matter to Ken or Nick either way. If she left, the ratio of men to women would be one to one, which made everything simpler. If she stuck around, she’d probably go where the winds blew because she was a good friend of Taylor’s… and even if she didn’t, she would keep her mouth shut. Jessie was just an intern. The others made three times what she’d make if she were getting paid, which of course she wasn’t. If she ever hoped to go anywhere at the company, she’d understand her place, and who she shouldn’t piss off.

  Jessie, despite her hatred of confirming Ken’s assumption that she’d simply follow Taylor’s lead, had already decided to stick with Taylor. If Taylor left, there was no reason for her to stick around… and if Taylor stayed, then Taylor would need a friend to keep an eye on her. Lord knew Taylor had embarrassed herself before.

  “It’s not rig
ged,” said Nick. He unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up, holding his arms out at his sides. “See?” he said. “Nothing up my sleeves. Besides, I’m horrible at poker.” He took his cell phone from his pocket, scrolled around for a while, and then held the phone out to Taylor. Jessie, standing next to Taylor, could see that there was a contact on the screen by the name of Frank Hinterland.

  “Here,” said Nick. “I play poker twice a month with Frank. Call him. He’ll tell you that I always lose.”

  “Ask him about me too,” said Ken. “I also suck.”

  Jessie rolled her eyes. Frank was part of the con. If Taylor took the bait and called him, Frank would tell her how terrible the two men were at poker, because he’d been asked to do so if a woman called from Nick’s phone.

  “What’s in this for us?” said Heather, who’d consumed too many Jell-O shots before the office Christmas party had officially ended.

  Nick pinched her ass. “Fun,” he said.

  It was all kind of gross to watch, and had Taylor not required a sane head to keep watch over her, Jessie would have bailed in an instant. Ken was the kind of guy she couldn’t stand. She’d known and been hit on by guys like Ken ever since she was sixteen. Ken seemed to think that women should flock to him. If they didn’t flock to him, Ken figured that it wasn’t because they didn’t like him, but because they wanted to be coaxed out of their shells due to some sense of respectability and coyness. When Jessie had started her internship, it had taken weeks of rebuffs before Ken had finally left her alone.

  But Taylor had never totally rebuffed Ken, so Ken kept coming at her. It was like a year-long courtship, where each flirted but in which Taylor never accepted Ken’s regular requests for dates. She didn’t precisely turn him down, though, and that was the problem. She told him that she was busy, and then she turned and walked away while swaying her hips very deliberately, and Ken whistled as if he were in the 1950s, and Taylor never complained because it was exactly the attention she was looking for.

  Jessie, who considered Taylor to be her best office friend despite their differences, told Taylor that Ken was a jerk and that if she didn’t stop encouraging him, he’d never stop coming at her. Taylor would simply reply that Ken was kind of cute, and leave it at that.

  Nick and Heather had exactly the same give-and-take going on, and Heather had been rubbing Nick’s arms and back all evening. Jessie didn’t understand Heather enough to give her the same advice because the gulf between Jessie’s 23 years and Heather’s 30 seemed much larger than the leap to Taylor’s 26, but if she had, she’d have told Heather the same thing: Nick is gross.

  But Taylor said she thought Nick was cute, too. And because Taylor had her own issues and her own past, Jessie supposed she understood. Physically, neither Ken nor Nick were gross at all. Physically, they were remarkable male specimens, especially for a pair of men who hadn’t played on their high school football teams for over a decade. On casual Fridays during the summer, even Jessie sometimes sneaked glances at the pair’s lean, defined arms and blushed. But emotionally? Personality-wise? They were so gross. Their manner was gross. Their assumptions about women and the way women saw them was gross. The way they flirted so overtly (and with touching… where was HR in all of this?) with Taylor and Heather was gross. And most of all, the way Heather and Taylor responded with their demure little giggles was so gross that it sometimes made Jessie stick her finger down her throat in a gagging gesture, even though nobody was there to see her make the gesture.

  “Well,” said Taylor, “what’s in it for Jessie?”

  Jessie rolled her eyes and started to tell Taylor not to bring her interest or lack thereof into this eruption of flirty grossness, but Ken replied first.

  “Same as the rest of us. Fun.”

  “She doesn’t care about seeing you guys naked.”

  Ugh.

  “She doesn’t have to stay,” said Nick, raising his eyes at Jessie like a challenge.

  Jessie, who grew up with three poker-playing brothers and could read Ken and Nick like a pair of billboards, shrugged. “I’ll stay if Taylor stays,” she said. “Same stakes.”

  Ken cocked his head in surprise and gave her a small smile. He thought Jessie was cute. Everyone did. She had a thin, almost waifish body but had beautiful big eyes set in a pretty face. Ken had said, during his unsuccessful period of attempting to woo her, that she was like a cute little pixie.

  “What if you lose?” said Ken. “You’re going to sit around with your boobies out?”

  The taunt was leading, but it wasn’t intended to get her to fold and leave. It was something Ken had wanted to say because he wanted to talk about her boobies, and Jessie had just given him an opening to do so.

  “I won’t lose.”

  “But you’ll pay up if you do?”

  “Of course.”

  “Swear?”

  “Of course, Ken. But for the record, I’m here to hang out with Taylor. I don’t care about seeing you in your skivvies.”

  “Or less,” said Ken.

  Again: Ugh.

  Taylor shrugged and consented, and Heather, who was three sheets to the wind, was already seated at the table, playing with the cards.

  “Okay,” said Nick with too much enthusiasm, staring directly at the swells under Taylor’s light blue sweater with the white, starched shirt underneath. “Let’s play some cards!”

  Heather had clearly never played poker before. Her first two hands were jack high and a pair of twos, and when the hands ended, she flipped her discards back over and the whole table saw that she was looking at two jacks on the first hand and three tens on the second. She would have won the second hand, but it didn’t matter. She was too drunk.

  Jessie won the first hand. She told Ken to take off an item, and he removed his left shoe. Ken won the second, but instead of retaliating against Jessie, he told Taylor to take off an item. “Preferably your sweater/shirt/bra combo,” he joked. She took off one of her heels and kicked it aside.

  Heather lost the next three hands too, but on all three, she deliberately threw away good cards and kept bad ones. Then, when the hands were over, she yelled at the men to choose her. Jessie suspected that Heather was feeling competitive because she was the oldest woman at the table, but she also suspected that Heather was simply shitfaced. Ken wanted to focus most of his attention on Taylor and his leftovers on Jessie, but when he won the fourth hand, the peer pressure to give Heather what she wanted was too high, so he chose her.

  Heather removed both shoes and a sock.

  This continued for five more hands, all of which she lost. Heather removed her other sock, her sweater, her shirt, and her pants. When she begged for Jessie, who won the last hand, to choose her so that she could “free the twins,” Jessie couldn’t be the one to draw the first real blood and chose Nick instead because she didn’t want Ken to think she was interested in him. Heather pouted briefly, then said she wasn’t feeling very well. She stood from the table in her bra and panties, crossed to the break couch on the other side of the space heaters, laid down, and passed out. Once it became apparent that Heather wasn’t going to return to the game, Jessie moved into Heather’s seat, across the table from Taylor. On her way to her new seat, she pulled a blanket over Heather, who looked cold lying on the couch in her underwear.

  Jessie won the next two hands. She made the men each remove their other shoe. Then Taylor said that it wasn’t fair that they had socks to remove and she didn’t, so the men said that shoes now went with socks and removed theirs. Jessie actually anticipated foot stink, but none came.

  Then Jessie announced that the game was taking forever and that it was getting really late, and suggested to Taylor that they leave. Groans of protest rose from the men. Jessie put her hand on Taylor’s arm, trying to talk sense into her, but Taylor said that she was having fun and that if Jessie wanted to leave, she could… but that she was staying.

  Jessie sighed. She wanted to leave. But if she did, what might happen? She didn�
��t know for sure what would happen, but she felt fairly confident that her being present would stop it. So she sighed, shuffled, and dealt.

  Nick won a hand. He made Jessie take off her right shoe and sock.

  Ken won the next hand, and told Jessie to lose the other shoe and sock.

  Bastards are punishing me, she thought. But as she thought it, Taylor picked up her drink, wrapped her lips around the straw protruding from it, and took a long, sensuous drink on it with her flourished, red-painted lips. When she put the drink down, there was a neat ring of red around the straw. And Jessie realized that revenge would be taking a back seat, and the only way to prevent Taylor from ending up totally nude would be to keep winning until she saw a lot of man meat she wasn’t particularly interested in.

  She won the next hand. Nick took off his tie. She won the hand after that, and Nick lost his shirt.

  “You must like my boy Nick,” said Ken.

  Jessie rolled her eyes. But in truth, Nick’s chest was indeed quite nice. He had significant swells on the tops of his shoulders, where they met his neck. Trapezius muscles, she thought they were called. You didn’t see good ones often.

  Nick won the next hand and told Taylor to take off her other heel. Taylor said her feet were cold.

  Then Ken won, and told Taylor to take off her sweater. When it came off, Taylor’s hair rose and stood up on her head due to static. She excused herself and went to the bathroom to smooth it down.

  When Taylor was gone and Jessie found herself alone with the shirtless man and the annoying man, Ken said, “Getting aroused, Jessie?”

  “Not at all,” she said.

  “I am. Would you like to see?” But he didn’t wait for her to answer. “Eh, you will soon enough. That’s the great thing about this game. Even when you lose, you win.” Then he smiled his big, physically-attractive-but-totally-offputting smile and Jessie rolled her eyes again, suddenly aware that people must say behind her back that it was her signature look.