A Small Distraction
All I had wanted was the hottest possible bath, some candles, maybe some of OC's tea, coffee, whatever. Instead, Alec, like always, messed up the first damn relaxing night in weeks. Walkin' in all swagger: "Maxie, we've got a problem. Now."
I mean, seriously? Not that this crap is new with that boy, but he just flings open the door the minute I'm stepping into the bath completely naked—if I wasn't, well, me, there would be some kind of slapstick nonsense bullshit. That pervert took a damn good look, too. Up down up down up again straight into my eyes.
Which, okay, flattery appreciated.
There's a real plot here, so let's get back to that. Of course I tell him to fuck off, turn the fuck around, and explain his damn self. So the deal is that there's one of ours, a transgenic with gills stuck in a tank in some strip club. I'm down to get her out, but he tells me that the only women allowed in the place are workin' girls.
Well, then, it was time for some quick lessons.
Before we started hustling dipshit boys at poker, my girl Original Cindy made her extra cash moonlighting as a stripper. Jam Pony don't pay enough to keep us in beer, much less rent.
We all have our ways.
OC, at this point is grinning madly, hovering just behind our boy, and we are thinking just the same thing. "Baby Boo, need a crash course?"
Look, I get the imperative of timeliness with this mission, but I can't possibly make myself hurry up this situation. Drinking a beer, leaning against the kitchen counter, and pretending to ignore Cindy giving Max the kind of dance instruction I would pay triple for: "No, Boo, you gotta spread your legs like a man. Run your hands up and down my thighs, my chest. Moan just a bit, that yo goal baby girl, make em think you want it as much as them."
Jesus. And when they switch to give Max a practice run, she is so damn focused on her "training", I don't even have to pretend. "Lean back on me, Max, spread your legs and rub your hands up yo own thighs, them boys wanna watch you feelin' on yourself even more than they wantcha touchin' them."
Why can't all our rescue missions start like this?
Unfortunately, Max is a fast learner. We were really out of there in just fifteen minutes. Hell of a quarter hour, though.
Anyway. So I'm in this skeevy alley with Alec wearin' my hustler rags. I'm nervous as hell but excited as hell too; like the good old days, tearin' up Crash. The plan is for him to play the player and me to play the fox. I linger a bit to watch him swagger up to the front door, and then swagger my way to the back door. Easy as fucking pie. (thanks, Manticore)
So Cindy said to make it good with the girls, life's apparently easier that way. First babe I see mingling, I ask her where the dressing room is (need to get outa these street clothes, ya know?). Then ask her—Tucker—about the babe in the tank, but she doesn't know much: boss man bought her offa some fishermen, the best draw for days, good for business, and we'd be makin' bank to-night. That was about it. Whatever. I went to talk to our Gill Girl myself.
Showed her my barcode, hand signed some reassurance, we gonna get you out. She confirms, so I go to find Alec and advance our mission.
Max is hitting it off with our mermaid, and I'm obviously gonna spend that time with my favorite honeys (keeping up the image, right?). Victoria, Virginia, Vanessa, whatever, was working me up when Maxie starts sauntering over. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. I mean, she was hot as hell in the damn alley, but now she's wearing a gold fucking cut up body suit, glaring the hell outa Valerie. I send the babe over to Sketch and Normal with more than enough for a few lap dances, with a nice slap on the tush for good luck.
Fucking Max. I can't even bring my eyes away from her, all of her, even with the eye roll. Actually... Especially with the eye roll.
The saunter ends on my god damn lap. I owe OC so many pints. She leans over and snarks right in my ear, something about paying attention to the mission. As if I can't multi task. Bitch.
And then, suddenly, I can't. She sits nice and heavy on my lap to lean forward and whisper in my ear that she's made contact. I know what she means but all I can think about is the contact she's made with my fucking crotch. And in true Maxie form, she doesn't even notice the little forward grind she gives as she shoves my head back to bitch at me for paying attention. I don't think she notices. I kind of hope she doesn't.
I kind of hope she does.
In my dreams, she's absolutely doing this on purpose. In my fucking dreams, right?
Alec is barely paying attention. Typical. Getting a lap dance from some babe, pervin' on our rescue instead of watching for White's man. So I go distract him from the honeys and remind him of our mission. I smirk as his eyelids lower like a man who sees what he likes. Teasing Alec is almost as fun as sparing with the boy.
Since I learned from the best, I do know how to keep in character. I grind on him, just enough to mess with him, and of course, as my hands are roughly grabbing his hair pulling his head back to give me some access to his neck, fuckin Sketchy and Normal walk up. Normal just walks right back away like it's not even happening, and damn Sketchy looks at us like we been hookin' up on the reg. Jesus. Jeeesus. I lean back on the chair sideways (very comfortable, by the way) out of exasperation. It suddenly seems like a good idea to trail my fingernails up my thighs to the edges of my booty shorts. I finally lift my head back up and look into Alec's eyes and see so much want that I want to fuck with him even more. Its time to reup on Cindy's advice and lean back onto his solid chest, just slightly rolling hips into the hard cock beneath me. With my head leaning on his shoulder, I just manage to raise my hands to his hair as he roughly whispers in my ear that he sees White's man. Two o'clock.
Playtime's over. Now we gotta go save our own. Back to business, but I have a bit of a feeling that I'm gonna work on makin' these situations more common. Coz, damn, OC is right, and Alec is a fine fine fine male specimen.