Chapter 76 – Getting to the Date

Shaking my head slightly I chastise myself for even pausing. It’s not as though Darnell would do anything up here. But just as I relax, I see Darnell turn toward me and realize I’m wrong. Darnell would do something up here. His whole body flexes and I’m immediately reminded of just how fit and muscular he is. His suit normally covers up his body in such a way that he simply looks in shape, but just taking the jacket off lets his physique show much better in his perfectly fitted shirt. As my eyes wander down and I wonder if I just hadn’t noticed it before or if he’s particularly engorged, but Darnell’s cock is slightly visible in his pants. It’s not porn style overt like a sausage stuffed down some running shorts, but there’s a distinct bulge that’s hard to ignore…

My eyes snap back up to Darnell’s face as I realize I’ve not only been looking at his body for several moments, I’ve been distinctly staring at his crotch for the last few seconds. Any hope of getting away without notice is gone as Darnell’s eyes are windows into his soul… and his soul is aroused.

Not paying any attention to the manager talking to him, Darnell leans his head toward the executive restroom then turns back toward me. A quick double raise and lowering of his eyebrows extinguishes any doubt as he repeats the gesture.

What he’s indicating is simple to read. You. Me. Restroom. Blowjob.

The manager that Darnell was talking to reaches out and gives his shoulder a hearty slap before turning to walk away. Leaving Darnell the freedom to not only bring me into the executive rest room for some intimate attention, but to come and collect me from where I stopped moving. That gives me only a moment to consider my options.

Run away. That seems obvious and it’s difficult to not succumb instantly to that desire. But while that would certainly save me from a second office masculinity crushing humiliation today, it would only cause more problems as he might actually come after me to find out what’s wrong. Okay… walk away. Nope. He walks faster than me. And he’s already moving this way.

Confront him and tell him that I don’t have time. Pfft, if he’s already semi-hard how long would it honestly take? Even I’ve beaten that argument when girls offered it before. No, if he gets to me, I’m not talking my way out of this while keeping up the ruse of Paris’ slutty past. Only when I hear the phone ring from one of the nearby offices does it occur to me. With a disappointed look on my face, I pull my phone out of my purse.

When Darnell gets just one step away from me, I have the phone to my ear and hold up a single finger toward him, letting him know to hold on for a moment, “Hello? Oh, hi…” quickquickquick, who am I talking to? Keep it near the truth but a truth that Darnell can’t check on. “… Art. Oh?...” shit, what can I say that gets me out of this with Art. The date? “… yeah, I can’t wait. It sounds like a lot of fun.”

Looking up at Darnell I see two thoughts going on behind his eyes. The arousal still rising and the worry that I’m not going to be available. Knowing he’s concerned about it makes me work at the subterfuge that much harder, “Are you going to pick me up in something special? Oh, it’s a surprise? Well, make sure it’s something I can get in while wearing my skirt. You know that I’ll be wearing the same clothes you saw me in, right?...” how to end it? Ah, got it! “…What’s that? Oh, you’re almost here? Well, that’s not fair, you’re early! Okay, I’ll be down in the lobby waiting for you. Byeeee!”

With a completely fake frustration masking my glee, I shrug my shoulders and say to Darnell, “I’m sorry baby, but that’s one of Mal’s biggest clients. He asked me out tonight and is going to pick me up downstairs in a few minutes. Maybe…” don’t say tomorrow, I won’t get to talk to Trixie before tomorrow “…later this week?”

Darnell wraps his arm around my shoulders and offers a comforting word as if I’m missing out on giving him a blow job more than he’s missing out on getting one. As he starts walking me toward the elevator I realize I’ve been close to Darnell many times before in the office. But now with our last three encounters involving me performing oral sex on him, I can only associate his smell with that act. Add in the fact that I can still taste Darnell and his cum and I can’t push the heady feeling away.

While Darnell drones on above me and walks me toward the elevator, I struggle with why I’m feeling turned on. I’m feeling more nauseated than turned on, but I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t admit I’m also feeling aroused. While being reminded by touch, smell, and taste of blowing this big strong muscular black man. It takes me all the time from near the executive restroom to the lobby to put it together. It can only be one of two things.

One, I enjoy the act and get turned on by thinking about it. I, however, simply cannot accept that. I do not enjoy GIVING head. I enjoy GETTING head. All the visual evidence to the contrary, I’m still a red-blooded man underneath these curves and soft skin. So that leaves Two, I enjoy getting head enough that remembering the act, even if it’s from the other perspective, gives my subconscious the same thrill. After all, while I’m working over Darnell’s cock I’m thinking of all the times I got head. Even if it’s just so that I can give good head. Thinking of all those girls kneeling down in front of me while I kneel down in front of Darnell?

Yeah, psychologically that makes sense. I think.

Darnell squeezing my shoulders a bit harder brings my attention back to him, “Hey, are you spacing out again? I said, is that your date with the Lincoln?”

Looking through the all-glass wall of the lobby I clearly see Art standing outside of his customized Lincoln Continental.

My jaw tightens up as I realize I was so lost in my own thoughts that I ruined my own chances of using the rest room down here in the lobby. Sure, it would have been busier than the ones upstairs, but I still could have fixed my face, gargled some mouthwash, and gotten the damned nipple stimulators off. Through clenched teeth I try to say with some happiness, “Yup, that’s him. I better get going babe.”

Darnell lets me take a step away from him before reaching down and giving me a goodbye slap to the rear. It’s nowhere near as hard as Mal slaps me and is more in line with the way most of the guys in the office like to give my ass a smack, so I don’t even break stride. Instead, I do the same thing I do in the office and give Darnell an extra shake to my ass as I walk away.

It takes all the space between Darnell in the middle of the lobby to Art standing by his car to get my mind out of Darnell and office mode and into Art and date mode. When I finally get to Art, I’m all smiles and jiggles as I rest my hands on his chest and lean in for a quick kiss to his cheek.

I immediately see that the cheek kissing was the right move as Art is all blushes and stammers while opening the door for me. Maybe Mal is right. Maybe Art is just a little puppy and the Paris he knows is out of his league, billionaire or no.

As we slowly make our way through the downtown gridlock Art makes some polite small talk and I let him lead the conversation. It’s not until we merge onto the equally slow-moving highway heading north that I begin to wonder where we’re going. For a little bit as we continue to make our way north I wonder if we’re heading to the airport, but I reason that it’s doubtful Art flies commercial. By the time we get around to talking about movies I notice we’re passing Evanston and any thought that I might guess our destination vanishes as I’ve never been further north of the city.

When we eventually pull off the highway we’re well beyond the northern suburbs. We’re all the way into farm land. Not being able to stand the mystery any longer I ask Art directly where we’re going. When he looks around and seems surprised to see farmland himself, I grow a little worried. Did he not know where his driver was taking us? When he turns back to me and shrugs though, he doesn’t seem perturbed at all, “You know, I’ve never actually been to this estate before. I know that the owners are very private and I heard they go to great lengths to maintain their privacy. I think…” Art pulls out his phone and taps at it for a moment before slipping it back into his jacket “…yeah, we’re just south of the Wisconsin border.”

It takes us another twenty minutes of driving until Art’s driver stops in the middle of the empty country road, steps out, and opens an old and decrepit gate. He takes care to drive us just in past the gate before getting out and closing up behind us. The dirt road feels like it might be a problem for the large sedan until it takes several sharp turns and quickly obscures the road away from sight. At that point, the trail widens, flattens, and becomes smooth new asphalt. And up what must be a half a mile down the now straight as an arrow road, is what can only be called a mansion. And that’s only because I don’t know what type of housing structure goes above a mansion.

A palace? Yeah, this could be a palace.

Even Art takes a look at the upcoming building and whistles appreciatively between his teeth. While still looking at it, he lets me know what’s in store, “So Mal gave me these tickets. It’s a costume party but only for the wealthy. We don’t come dressed to a party like this. Instead, we’re going to sit down with one of their designers who will set up a costume for us. It’s supposed to be very fun.”

We’re eventually dropped off at an ellipse that reminds me of the White House. Art steps out first and offers his hand to help me. When I get out and stand up straight, I see that there’s only a few couples in front of us. It’s easy to tell the couples from the workers as all the workers are wearing ornate black venetian masquerade masks. At the front of the line Art hands over a large gold foil ticket that I recall seeing in Mal’s office. I recall wondering what it was since there was no writing on it.

The man Art handed the ticket to holds it over a low burning candle and it quickly goes up into flame. In a flash parts of the ticket have burned away leaving a gold ticket with a carved-out invitation for one and a guest. I can only shake my head in disbelief… if they put that much effort and showmanship into keeping the tickets uncopiable, how hard are they going to work at our costumes?

Just as the gentleman places Art’s golden ticket down on a pile of similarly carved out tickets, a drop-dead gorgeous woman opens the door and smiles at us. She has that darker skin that could speak of a dozen different heritages. Anywhere from South American to Middle Eastern. Her long straight black hair is thick and luxurious and emphasizes her large innocent brown eyes almost hidden behind her bejeweled mask. Even her voice doesn’t help identify her origins as she has a simple lilting accent that only confirms ‘Not American’.

Of course, it’s hard to see any of that because you have to look past the fact that she’s wearing a grass skirt, the black mask, and nothing else.

We follow the exotic beauty past the entry way. Even though only a few hours ago I was feeling like a rented out piece of property, I feel a little jealous as Art’s eyes never leave the woman’s perfectly shaped ass as it wiggles back and forth with each step, peeking out between the blades of her grass skirt.

When we finally get to a small private sitting room, the woman takes a seat as casually as I do in the office. There’s no sign that she’s nervous at showing off her almost completely nude body to two total strangers. Hell, she’s more comfortable in just her skin than I am in my current skirt and blouse.

Her silky-smooth voice is almost hypnotic as she begins her job in earnest, “I assure both of you that we want nothing more than your pure enjoyment. This year’s party is special as it’s entitled ‘Hedonism Fulfilled’. So, these questions I ask, while they may seem inconsequential, are in fact very important. And it’s very important for you to tell the truth.”

I feel a little lightheaded just watching this woman’s lovely breasts rise and fall with her speaking voice and know that Art must be mesmerized. Regardless, we both begin answering her seemingly random questions. Some of the questions are only for Art. Some are only for me. Some are for us as a ‘couple’. When those questions come up, I make sure to step in and try my best to guess what Art would like.

It takes me a bit, but I finally figure out she’s narrowing down our likes and dislikes and getting us costumes based on our personalities. And with all the sci fi and actual science Art has talked about, and that I’ve amplified, it seems to be narrowing down to Star Trek, Star Wars, or some dystopian future like 1984. Great, Orion **** Girl, **** Leiah, or… well I have no idea how you’d dress up in Oceania.

Finally, without telling us what the costumes are, the beautiful woman asks me to remain here where someone will pick me up soon. Then, taking Art’s arm, she leads him out of the room. They couldn’t have gotten four steps down the hallway before the door opened back up and a man enters the room. He could be the brother to the woman that just left. Carmel brown skin, dark brown eyes, straight black hair, as fit as any human being could ever be.

And dressed in only a grass skirt and mask. I have to quickly divert my eyes as where the blades of grass barely hid away the beautiful woman’s ass, they barely hide away the man’s large penis.

I feel him take my arm and start guiding me out of the room as he says in that same indistinct accent “This way miss, we’ll get you dressed up in no time.”