Chapter 87 – Paris avoids blowing her friends

Darnell was right. Cruising up and down Lake Shore Drive is almost soothing enough to make me forget about Trixie’s and my night at the Barrel. Or rather how the night ended at the bar. And as odd and complex as my life has become, all I want to do now is forget that ever happened. Forget dancing with my three buddies. Forget having them kiss and rub all over my body. Forget having them treat me like the sexiest girl they’ve seen. Forget walking them out to the alley with the promise of a blow job.

But even with Trixie crammed into the backseat playing DJ, currently insisting that we listen to ten minutes of INNA’s song Ten Minutes, it’s hard to forget what I’ve done. What I’ve put my buddies through. I mean, you could make the argument that they should have known better. That it’s a girl’s prerogative to back out of a promise of oral sex. Ben and Jack got it, at least initially. Sam though… Sam took it bad.

For those few moments it felt like time stood still. Watching Ben, Sam, and Jack all grinning like stupid schoolboys as they started loosening their belts, as the horror of what was about to happen fully seated itself in my brain. Yes, it could be bad when I return to being Jaime having to admit that I was that sexy woman that they all danced with. Telling my buds that they all kissed and touched and made out with me instead of their wet dream made real. But I could live that down. I could make it part of my horror story and probably even earn some pity points.

But if I follow through with this, if I give blow jobs to my buds, I’ll never live that down. They’ll never EVER be able to see me as Jaime again. Oh sure, they’ll forgive me and they’ll still be friendly… but while we’re at Wrigley Park catching a Cub’s game, I’ll be sitting with three friends while they’d all be sitting with the hottest blow job they’ve ever had. I can get rid of the breasts, the hips, the hair, the face… and they’ll still always see me as Paris. Jaime will just be dead to them.

No. No, I knew that that act would just be too far.

Given time, I probably could have come up with a better out. A way to let their egos down gently. But having to keep up my blow job loving ruse to Trixie and NOT end up on my knees in that alley, I said the first thing that came to mind.

“Uhh… Trix, I can’t do this. Not with them. They’re… I mean, they’re like… umm…”

Trixie hugging me from behind and peeking over my shoulder was initially comforting until she once again completely misunderstood what I was trying to say, “I know Paris, but you had to see it too. It doesn’t matter how sweet guys are or how nice they kiss or make out… they just don’t have cocks like Mal or Darnell, do they?”

I remember feeling my whole body stiffen up. I understood Trixie well enough to know that she didn’t mean that in an insulting way… but she just couldn’t know how it would come across to a bunch of guys. That’s when everything started to spin out of control.

Ben and Sam initially looked dejected and probably would have been easy to get by, but Jack instead got upset. I don’t remember exactly what he said, but the term ‘bitch’ came out of his mouth. ‘Fucker’ was said in Trixie’s giggling tone. ‘Cunt’. ‘Asshole’. ‘Bimbo’. ‘Jerk’. ‘Dyke’. ‘Slacker’. ‘Hag’. They kept trading insults back and forth.

Both Sam and Ben tried to calm Jack down while I tried to reign in Trixie, but both of them seemed to really be digging into each other on a personal level. When I thought they might come to blows, I simply took Trixie’s hand in mine and practically dared any of my friends to stop us from leaving. I remember specifically taking a wide circle around Jack but Sam and Ben both stepped out of our way.

Even though Lake Shore Drive is nearly a highway on a weeknight, there’s still plenty of areas where it practically slows down to a halt. I’d never really thought of privacy before but most of the cars I’d been in recently, including Mal’s Mercedes and Art’s Lincoln, had dark tinted windows. They weren’t as tall as an SUV but they didn’t hug the ground like Darnell’s Porsche. Down this close to the ground with un-tinted windows meant when we slowed down in traffic people could peek right in and see us. The car itself was enough to get attention with its beautifully warm dark grey paint and red top, not to mention seeing Darnell driving and Trixie in the backseat.

The Porsche was one of the reasons Jack went too far. Stepping through the kitchen, listening to Trixie complain about the ‘local trashy guys’ as I tried to drag her out, I pulled my phone out and found out it had died. I asked Trixie to call for a ride just as the guys followed us back into the bar. They honestly looked like they were going to let everything go. I remember that. They were all upset, which makes sense, but they didn’t seem to want to argue any more. I guess at that point it was my actions that threw gasoline on the fire. I just felt it necessary to apologize to my friends, even if they didn’t know it was me under all this feminine finery.

What was it that I said? Something about no hard feelings? Yeah. This time it was Ben that stood up and shot back, telling us to just leave. To let them be and stop slumming in their neighborhood. And this time it wasn’t Trixie that stood up for me. Instead, Jenny the waitress told Ben to fuck off, that Trixie and I were welcome patrons in the bar. That got Sam going, comparing our ‘new’ money to their years of patronage.

I don’t know how many people got involved, but it somehow ended up splitting the bar in half. Sadly, the ones that I knew best were all on team Ben, Sam, and Jack. Most of the people on team ‘hot girls’ were the guys that danced the night away with us. Minus Ben, Sam, and Jack of course. Danell sauntering in and coming right over to Trixie and me should have ended everything. It certainly shut me up realizing that Trixie hadn’t just called for a ride. She’d called her boyfriend. Or… well… our boyfriend.

It only took one last insult tossed my way by Jack for Darnell to get into defensive mode. His loud voice easily carried over everybody’s squabbling. By this time, I was so embarrassed and hurt and sad that I could only let him put his arm around me and bury my face in his chest while Darnell chastised anybody and everybody that had dared talk ill to either Trixie or me.

That should have been it. As much as I didn’t want to involve Darnell in the situation that was designed to separate me from him, he was welcome protection. He got that I clearly just wanted to leave so he walked ‘his girls’ out. That’s where I first saw his Porsche. I’m not exactly a car guy… or car girl… but even I was impressed by Darnell’s 911. It looked both exotic and luxurious. Sporty and fast, expensive and opulent. Even the double beep of the security system disarming as we approached sounded somehow special.

I’m not sure why Jack followed us out, but his voice clearly carried from behind, “Damn fine redhead you got there buddy. She gonna purr or scream when you get inside of her?”

Darnell’s arm barely let go of my waist before I registered how he heard Jack’s statement. I remember all four of us going car spotting. There were all kinds of exotic cars around Chicago if you knew where to look. Porsches, Ferraris, Lambos, Bugattis, Astons, McLarens. Our standing question was always whether the driver just putted around town with their sports cars, making it purr and nothing else, or if they’d take it out, really open it up and make it scream. Looking at Darnell’s 911 with its red top, I might have said the same thing. But Darnell likely heard one last jibe at my strawberry blonde hair, asking if Darnell was going to make me purr or scream when he got inside of me.

I could barely think, let alone move when Darnell came back. He helped Trixie into the tiny back seat then eased me down into the passenger seat. I couldn’t take my eyes off Jack, lying on the sidewalk where Darnell had laid him out with single punch.

And now, nearly thirty minutes later, I’m trying to forget the night. What’s done is done. My friends will never forget the night the two hot chicks came into the Barrell. I’ll never be able to let them even think Jamie and Paris are the same people. Considering that bringing Darnell in has practically guaranteed I’m now his personal cock sucker AND that I may have lost my friends, I may just have well sucked off Ben, Sam, and Jack. I would have lost their friendships, but at least they wouldn’t have been hurt. At least I would have been rid of blowing a guy that works in my office and dates my bff.

Trixie’s request from the backseat is enough to pull me back to the present, “Honey, I need some air. Can you put the top down?”

I want to vocalize that I don’t like that idea, but with how everything is positioned, I can’t even do that. When we come to a stoplight, I feel Darnell’s hand let go of my hair long enough to sneak under my torso and pull up on the power convertible button in the center console. I could’ve come up and asked him to not expose us like that but while we were stopped Darnell took advantage and used his other hand to caress my hair, effectively keeping me in place.

Once the roof was down Darnell pulled his hand from under me, taking time to cup and caress my breast while he was there before resuming his comfortable position. Trixie, seemingly oblivious as to why I might want people to not look our way, stands up in the back seat and yells out her happy whoop. I can’t see her, so I can only imagine her sitting up on the now open convertible top, waving her hands around in the air like some parade beauty queen.

That alone, a beautiful, big breasted, boisterous, blonde, bimboesque woman whooping and hollering in the backseat of a convertible sports car would be enough to get anybody’s attention. Of course, once they saw me leaning over the center console, everybody would forget about Trixie. My lips slowly bobbing up and down on Darnell’s cock, making muffled humming and moaning noises while Darnell’s arm rested on my back with his hand cupping the back of my head.

As if reading my thoughts and acting in the opposite way of what I’d want, I feel Darnell turn off of Lake Shore Drive and enter the inner drive. Now we wouldn’t even have speed and constant movement to hide me in anonymity. Now we’d be driving at normal city speeds, surrounded by normal Chicago traffic, and have regular lights where people could gaze and stare at the big strong confident driver, the sexy loud excited passenger, and the busy lounging casual cocksucker.

I started the day wanting to have an easy time in the office without my toys going off followed by a night out with my friend where I could convince her I didn’t want to blow her boyfriend any longer. Instead, I jack off my boss from under his desk right into my open mouth after getting several orgasms of my own. When I get cleaned up and go out with my friend she takes me to a random bar where I spend the night on the dance floor kissing my three buddies who don’t even seem to suspect I’m the woman they’re taking advantage of. After my bff offers me to suck them off and I try to get out of destroying what remains of my male memories by NOT blowing them, I instead end up insulting them over and over to the point that what I can now only consider MY boyfriend defends my honor by knocking out one of my buds. And now as a reward for all that, a cherry on top of the sundae of my life, I get to celebrate by sucking off my big black lover in an open topped car where everybody in Chicago’s late night cruising area can watch and enjoy.

Fuck My Life.