Lorenzo's Room

Your stomach is in knots. You’d gone back and forth. Go or don’t go. He’s your boss, you can’t just not go. Could you turn down the advances, should they come? You know you shouldn’t, but being a pro-athlete would do wonders towards eventually becoming a gym leader, you can just imagine it as a forfeit, right? But how to dress? Your work out clothes show off too much, if you have any hope of this being a professional meeting. But it felt like too much effort to dress up in your vest. No, you’d decided on informal, sweats and a baggy tee. And the final choice dangled from your fingertips, the baggy of Rx.

Goosebumps ripple up your arms in anticipation. Everything would feel amazing, even if you and Cindy are wrong and it really is just a meeting. No, taking the Rx feels like giving up hope on an above board meeting. It takes you a few minutes of looking for your phone before remembering it’s been confiscated, before heading out the door. You pause with your hand on the knob. You turn back and pocket the baggy of Rx, just in case.

You steady yourself before knocking on Lorenzo’s door. Knock, knock, knock. You throw your hands in your pocket, your fingers tracing over the plastic of the baggy. You shift back and forth, waiting for the door to be answered.

“Jacqueline, what a surprise,” he booms. He’s dressed in silk pajamas, a smarmy smile, and an overpowering smell of his cologne.

“Jack, actually.”

“Of course, doll,” he steps aside, letting you enter the room. “Take a seat, wine or whiskey?”

He stood at a bar in the corner of the room. “I’m good,” you answer trying not to encourage anything.

“Whiskey it is,” he says, pouring three fingers of whiskey for each of you. “Now, doll, how are you liking it here with the Laurels.” His hand rests on your thigh, gently squeezing through your sweats.

He sips his drink. You want to smack his hand away from your leg, punch him in the face. “It’s good. I’m learning a lot, and getting stronger.” You clench your fist, your arms still sore from weight training this afternoon.

“Good, good,” his hand rubs over your leg. He’s not even listening. “You should grow out your hair,” he reaches up brushing over the shorter sides of your hair, “you’d look so much prettier with a bit more hair.” You think of Blue, how could you not, but you like your hair like this. Amber likes your hair like this.

“Um, sorry. You wanted to talk about my future on the team?”

His fingers brush over your cheek and down your arm, as he lowers it from your hair. “Ah, yes.” He grins, his hand on your thigh rubbing a little higher. “Cindy spoke highly of you at our last meeting.” You wonder what kind of meeting he means, the one that involves all the Laurels or the kind Chatot quoted earlier.

“But that’s not always enough. You’ve got to show you’re a team player,” he inches higher. “You think you can do that? Show your dedication to the team,” another inch towards your crotch, “How badly you want to be a Laurel.”

“I-I-I,” you knew it was coming. You had told yourself, you’d be okay, that you could do it.

“Shh, you don’t have to say anything. Let your body do the talking,” he leans in kissing your neck. Your skin crawls, a lump forming in your throat. His hand brushes under your shirt across your stomach. He kisses you on the lips, forcing his tongue into your mouth, tasting of whiskey.

You push him away, just enough to put a bit of space between him and you. “What’s wrong, doll? Just relax, it’s all good.”

“I-I need to use the restroom,” you blurt.

He grins, “Ah, good freshen up.”

You scurry off to the bathroom. Your skin crawls with everywhere Lorenzo touched you. You stare into the mirror, “Just get through this.” You reach into your pocket fishing out the Rx. You pour a small mound onto the counter, and push it into a line. And with a practiced motion, you snort the powder, your nasal passage burning slightly.

With the baggy securely back in your pocket, you flush the toilet and wash your hands to sell the illusion of you needing to use the bathroom. The water flows against your fingers, the Rx already starting to work its magic. Goosebumps trickle up your forearms. You dry them off, whimpering at the tickling softness of the towel. Like a thousand feathers softly gliding over your skin.

Lorenzo calls you over as you exit the bathroom. He’s standing by the couch, and pulls you in close. His body pressed against yours, everything dully tingling from his touch through your clothes. “Now where were we?” he chuckles, planting another kiss on your lips. You freeze a little, but as the Rx induced pleasure washes over your lips and tongue, you relax into it.

Electricity courses through your veins as his hand runs under your shirt, and unhooks your bra. You feel the tension in your straps release, and in one deft motion he pulls your shirt and bra off over your head. You moan at the sensation of the collar brushing against the back of your neck.

“Jacqueline, doll, your tits are amazing. I think we’ll have to do a nude calendar, you and Cindy, and we’ll get a couple cheerleaders to pad a couple months. It will sell amazing, a nice bonus in it for you.”

“It’s Jac—“ you start to correct your name again, but your breath hitches as he leans down and greedily sucks a nipple into his mouth. The overly sensitive nub burns in desire, clenching everything near it.

“Of course, we’ll have to grow your hair out first. I’ll have some supplements sent to your room.” He pinches your other nipple, ecstasy coursing across your chest. “Why don’t you start on your knees, show me how badly you want to be on the team.”

He sits back on the couch, his pajama pants tented with an erection. You kneel in front of him, your fingers tingle against the soft silk of his drawstring. With one pull the knot is undone, and he lifts his hips allowing you to pull them down. His cock springs free, and it’s time, time to show your dedication to the team.