Ahab gives me some sugar.

I'm swept up into his strong arms and given a passionate kiss— he's grateful beyond words.

Clutching his hot body tight against my own scarcely-covered form as he lets me take lead, I can feel Ahab's every sensual contour; those taut pecs, his rugged hands, his—WHOA!— his penis pressing into my bare thigh.

He sets me back down, still immersed in the kiss, and I do what I'm wont to when locking lips with Ahab: I snake a hand down to steal a fistful of his delicious bubble-butt. I hear him moan softly as I knead the flesh of his rump through his indecently scant towel, and he fiddles with the straps of my provocative one piece as he drives his lips harder against mine.

We break our embrace after several beatific moments together in heaven, and while dazed in bliss—huffing with excitement and pleasure—we gaze into each other's eyes.

"Oh my God, Ming Zhao— I'm so sorry for doubting you."

"Well then, please allow me to say: That, was a great apology." I reply, my head still spinning.

After the chance to catch our breath, we look around, and to our immense chagrin, we find a gargantuan gaggle of voyeuristic lobby-goers applauding and wolf whistling at us.

"Is-is that allowed?!"

"Hey, don't stop on account of us!"

"Yeah, girl— grab his ass some more!"

Oh my good God, we were just caught necking in public.

While I feel my cheeks redden in embarrassment, the practically-nude snack beside me burns burgundy at the unwanted attention we're receiving. Ahab lets out a microscopic squeak and wraps a powerful arm around my waist, carrying me with him as he absconds in a humiliated scurry away from the catcalling crowd.

I'm carried all the way to the front desk before I'm set down, and there, I find Natalie fuming with adorable jealousy; she crosses her massive arms under her equally epic mammaries and pouts like an ignored puppy. I infer that she witnessed us making out as well.

The blonde behemoth's breasts bounce beckoningly in her baby-blue bikini as she beseeches, "C'mon guys, we have to hurry; these bags… uh, need to be, uh… on the… the, the fourth floor… Whoa." Her face reddens as she allows her gaze to drift across Ahab's rippling torso, over his taut abs, and down to his semi-erect bulge. She emits an ultrasonic squeak of arousal before finishing, "Um, uh, I mean— we need to get them there immediately!"

Our crush cowers from his manager's punishing leer, but somehow doesn't lose his composure; he asks me while blushing beet red, "Hey, Ming Zhao, are you coming with us? You don't have to but—"

"Ahab, I wouldn't dare miss it." I reply, hoisting one of the VIP's luggage bags with a flourish.

"Awesome!" he exclaims, while helping his manager grab the other four bags.

Of course I'll help my friends; I have to be there so that nothing ****-y happens to them. Plus, I would hate myself if I didn't get to see Ahab's continued humiliation!

Hahaha! Him— The sexiest guy I've ever known, running around in only that microscopic towel, with both hands occupied? I needn't do anything to make that sexy as all Hell!

The three of us march with every parcel in hand, and are soon faced with two options to get up the four floors to deliver the bags. One is the service stairwell, which, from my tours around the hotel, I know goes largely unused—at least by guests—while the other is a public elevator; easier to get up four floors with, but also easier to trap or grope somebody inside of.

Which do we take?