by Max Monroe
“Cassie!” I heard a familiar voice shout from the hallway. I clenched my eyes and tried to move forward into sleep. Apparently, happy present time was over.
“Where are you, Casshead?” the voice called out, turning shrill.
I prayed I was just hearing things, but my prayers were cut short when the door to my massage room flung open with a bang against the wall. By the sound of it, I was guessing someone was going to be owing Mandara Spa some money for damages.
“Here she is!” a far too loud and cheery voice that I normally loved, but currently really fucking disliked, singsonged in the no longer quiet room.
Peacefulness, obliterated.
“What the hell?” I turned onto my back, for once in my life remembering to keep my tits under wraps, and found Georgia and Winnie, completely ignoring me and motioning for a couple of male staff members to bring two extra massage tables into the room.
Before I knew it, my peaceful, quiet, and perfect slice of heaven was filled with their chatter and Eduardo’s confused questions.
“Excuse me? Ladies?” he asked for what was probably the fourth time. They walked all over his quiet authority like it was laughable. “You need an appointment to get a massage.”
Winnie pointed toward me. “Oh, don’t worry. We’re with her.”
“No,” I refuted. “They’re not with me. I don’t even know these weird women.”
Eduardo looked helpless, glancing back and forth at us, so I turned my eye stinkier. I had a goddamn battle to win.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Georgia chimed in. “I’m your nanny, remember? The one who has been taking care of your adorable baby boy all day long…”
Okay, so she definitely had a point there. Fuck. I dialed back the stink eye slightly.
My best friend’s steadfast and determined gaze held mine until I relented and gave up the good fight for alone time for good. “Well, fuck it,” I conceded. “Let’s make it a goddamn girls’ night. Yipee,” I muttered with zero enthusiasm.
“All right!” Georgia clapped her hands. “Fantastic! I’m ready!”
Eduardo looked at them and then at me again.
“Mind adding two more to your schedule, Eduardo?” He smiled at the sweet curl in my voice. It was the one I used to get what I want, and it almost never failed.
“No problem,” he agreed with a blush, keeping the special voice’s record blemish-free. “Whatever you need, Miss Cassie.” I winked, and his eyes shot to the door. “I’ll give you ladies a minute to get changed and on the tables, and I’ll see if anyone else is available to give massages.”
An hour and a half later, we were boneless and relaxed and lying comfortably on our backs while Eduardo busied himself with cleaning up the room. Despite Winnie and Georgia’s rude interruption into my alone time, the Atlantis spa staff had managed to bring in two extra masseuses and massage all three of us at the same time.
Ninety minutes of full-body caresses and rubdowns had proved relaxing for all of us.
Although, I was starting to wonder if Georgia had fallen asleep. She had become so quiet over the past forty minutes while Winnie and I kept up a steady chatter of random, mindless girl gossip and chitchat.
“This was perfection,” Winnie said on a soft sigh. “I really needed this. Thanks for letting us crash your party, Cass.”
“Anytime,” I responded. “Before you bitches barged in, I was tempted to ask Thatcher to buy me an Eduardo for Christmas.”
I heard Eduardo chuckle softly near the sink in the far corner of the room.
“Would you be okay with that, Eduardo?” I asked in amusement. “You want to come hang out in New York with me and my husband and infant son?”
“You probably don’t want to agree to that, Eduardo,” Winnie teased. “Those two will give you nightmares you can’t come back from.”
“Kinky kind of nightmares?” he asked with a waggle of his brow, and Winnie and I cackled in response.
“Exactly like that,” Win added helpfully.
Eduardo didn’t miss a beat. “Well, I do like kinky…”
Win giggled and I grinned, but Georgia was still quiet as a mouse. Normally, she would’ve been all too willing to join in on this conversation. Or at least attempt to stop the path of the conversation. Something. Anything.
But radio silence? Yeah, my spidey senses were up and wondering what the fuck was up with my best friend. I looked toward her table for an inspection and found her eyes were open and her mouth was clamped shut. I did the opposite, narrowing my eyes and opening my big, fat mouth wide.
It’s got to be big to fit Thatcher’s whole cock. It ain’t called super for nothing.
“Hey, Wheorgie,” I called and victoriously won her attention.
Before thinking it through, she turned her head, and her eyes met mine. “What?”
“What’s going on? You’re awfully quiet.”
“Yeah, honey, are you okay?” Winnie asked with concern. “We haven’t heard a peep out of you for a while.”
She shrugged a shoulder. “I’m fine. Just a little tired.”
“You don’t look tired,” I disagreed. “You look like you’re thinking about something.”
“I’m not thinking about anything.”
“So you were just staring up at the ceiling thinking about nothing in particular?” I pushed further as I searched her gaze relentlessly. Within seconds, the fear practically seeped from her pupils. Only one thing made her pretty blue eyes look like that—hiding something. My best friend had a secret, and I was sure as fuck going to figure it out.
“Yep.” She swallowed hard, but she couldn’t hide the nerves in her voice. “I wasn’t thinking about anything.”
“Are you sure?” I sat up and propped a foot on the table.
“Yes.”
I quirked a knowing brow. “Positive?”
“Yep.”
“Because you look like someone who is lost in thought, and when someone is lost in thought, that generally means that have something very specific on their mind, and they would probably feel so much better if—”
“Kline and I have anal sex!” she cut me off on a shout before I could continue further with my nonsensical ramble.
Winnie’s eyes went wide, and I shot up off the table in absolute shock, dropping my sheet to the ground with a soft plop.
“What did you just say?” I questioned, not the least bit concerned that both of my engorged tits were bared for Eduardo’s gaze.
He stared at them for a beat too long and then quickly turned his back toward the cabinet hanging on the wall. His fingers fumbled awkwardly with some bottles of massage oil like he thought we’d just assume he was oh so busy with that task of fiddling with the containers of skin lube like an amateur juggler at a child’s fair.
Normally, seeing as I could be a bit of a bitch, I would’ve razzed him a little, but my mind was too busy with the bomb Georgie had just dropped in the room. Sheesh. Who would’ve thought my best friend had weapons of ass destruction in her back pocket? Though, I guess that was less surprising than finding out she had them in the front.
Gnome saying?
“Georgia, what did you just say?” I repeated my question.
Her eyes were bigger than saucers, but she tried to play it off. “Hmm?” she questioned with tight lips and a nervous giggle, proving irrefutably that she was still the world’s worst fucking liar.
“Did you just say that you let Big-dick in your back door?”
“Huh?”
I rolled my eyes and met Winnie’s mostly shocked, but slightly humor-filled eyes.
“I’m not hearing things, right? Her caboose is officially loose.”
Win shook her head.
“My little Wheorgie, longest running virgin in all the land of New York, just admitted to both of us that she has anal sex, right?”
“Yep.”
“And she said it in a way that leads us to believe that this isn’t a one and done kind of situation. Anal is legi
t in their sex rotation. It wasn’t just me, right? Did you hear those things too?”
Winnie smiled and nodded her head again, laughing so hard she was developing a wheeze.
“That’s not what I meant!” Georgia, face flamed in fifty shades of red, finally found the strength to chime in. “I said Kline wants to have anal sex.”
I laughed at that. “Every man wants to have anal sex. They have goddamn weekly meetings about it like Weight Watchers to see if they’ve reached their goal. Like a motherfucking weigh-in. But that’s not what you said.”
“That’s what I meant to say,” she asserted as her fingers fidgeted with the white sheet resting over her body, creasing the corners of her eyes in the least fluffing intimidating aggression in the world.
I tilted my head to the side and assessed her nervous expression closely. “What are you hiding? You’ve got a secret, and you’re not telling it. And you just accidentally tossed out that anal sex thing to try to steer me off course, but there’s something else, isn’t there? What aren’t you telling me, Wheorgie?”
“Nothing,” she responded defensively. “I don’t have any secrets.”
She looked at Winnie with a helpless expression. “Tell her I don’t have any secrets, Win.”
Winnie grimaced. “Sorry, honey, but you look like something is seriously on your mind. Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” Georgia answered more confidently. “Everything is okay.”
I decided it was time to unleash the crazy, creepy eyes in her direction. They were Georgia’s biggest weakness. They freaked her the fuck out and generally made her spill the beans.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she demanded and shielded her face. Her blue eyes peeked out through her opened fingers before she quickly closed them tight again. “Seriously, Cass,” she whined, “you’re freaking me out.”
“I’ll keep staring at you like this all night if I have to,” I announced. “Hell, if I have to do it while I breastfeed Eduardo to get relief from these goddamn watermelons on my chest, I’ll fucking do it.”
Eduardo sputtered and choked on his own saliva, and that’s when I realized he was still in the room, fingers still busy with those stupid massage oil bottles.
“For the love of God, no one is breastfeeding anyone in this room,” Winnie chimed in in exasperation.
“Yeah, please don’t breastfeed the masseuse, Cass,” Georgia added behind her hands. “That would be so weird.”
“Well, maybe you should fess up, you little secret keeper.”
“I don’t have anything to fess up to!”
“Georgia.” I tried to get her attention, but she ignored me.
“Fine!” I responded in exasperation. “Come here, Eduardo. I hope you’re not lactose intolerant.”
He started to step toward my direction, but Winnie was too quick, wrapping the sheet around her body and hopping off the massage table to nippleblock the masseuse.
“Yeah, how about you leave the room, buddy?” she instructed and motioned toward the door with her hand.
Eduardo just nodded his head and solemnly walked toward the door like the most disappointed baby bird in the whole wide world. His cheeks shone bright with embarrassment, but I had to give it to the guy—he had big brass balls in the face of it. Once he left the room, Winnie made sure the door was shut and locked.
“God, you sure know how to make things awkward as fuck,” she said on a laugh as she turned back toward the room. “And seriously, your breast milk doesn’t have lactose in it, you weirdo.”
“I can’t believe you were going to breastfeed our masseuse,” Georgia added.
I shrugged. “You try carrying around these fluffing gallon milk jugs on your chest and let me know how it goes. Plus, he looked hungry.”
Winnie burst into laughter. “Yeah, pretty sure his hunger had nothing to do with his stomach.”
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on, G?”
Her eyes met mine. “I can’t tell you right now. But I will. Soon. I promise.”
“It’s that big of a secret?”
She nodded.
“Shit, Wheorgie,” I said with a grimace. “I didn’t know it was that kind of secret. I just thought it was something equally random and amazing like the anal sex thing.”
She groaned. “I can’t believe I admitted that out loud.”
“I can’t believe you let Big-dick’s monster cock inside your ass.”
Her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment.
My jaw practically hit the floor. “Oh my God, you totally love it. You love to get fucked in the ass.”
She wrapped her sheet around her body and proceeded to slide off the massage table. “Yeah, okay, I’m done with this conversation.”
But before she could start to get dressed, I jumped off my table and wrapped both arms around her body in a tight hug. “I can’t believe you’re a little ass pirate. I am so fucking proud of you. Collecting all that fucking booty like a pro.”
She groaned and shook her head, but I didn’t care, I wasn’t done with this lovefest.
“And I want you to know that I’m here for you no matter what, okay?”
“Awww, you guys,” Winnie chimed in, and the next thing I knew, her arms were wrapped around both of us. “I’m here for you too, Georgia. No matter what.”
“Thank you, guys.” She groaned and shook in our arms before admitting, “I love you both so much.”
“Awww, we love you too,” I cooed.
We stayed locked in our little half-naked hug for a long moment, and then I felt that pins and needles sensation of my milk letting down. “Uh-oh,” I muttered.
“Uh-oh?” Georgia asked, but the second she started to feel my breast milk seep onto her skin, she jumped away from me like my mammary glands had shot acid at her. “Oh, for fuck’s sake! Did you just spray me with your breast milk?”
Winnie stepped back with an amused grin, and we all just stood there, clad in only our underwear with the massage table sheets resting at our feet.
My breasts decided it was the perfect time to just let it all flow, and I couldn’t stop the milk from squirting out if I tried.
“Are you kidding me right now?” Georgia asked as she watched my nipples do their best impression of a geyser.
Winnie just giggled.
“Do they always do that?” Georgia’s nose scrunched up.
I shrugged. “Not always. Only when they’re just too full to keep the milk on lockdown.”
“Jesus,” Winnie muttered. “I’m pretty sure you could feed an entire third world country with your milk supply.”
“Now you see why I wasn’t opposed to letting Eduardo latch on to the teet and have a taste. My tits were hurting like a motherfucker.” I leaned my head back and closed my eyes as I savored the sweet relief of the rock-hard fullness leaving my boobs.
I couldn’t stop a moan from leaving my lips.
Yeah. Sometimes it really does feel that good.
“Are you about to flash us your O-face while your nipples continue to squirt milk onto the floor?” Winnie teased.
“It could very well be a possibility.”
“I think this massage room is tainted now,” Georgia said. “They’re going to have to burn it to the ground. Too much weirdness has occurred in the past thirty minutes.”
“Don’t light the matches until my boobs stop flowing. I’d prefer not to have to sprint out of this room with milk shooting out of my nipples. Eduardo has already spent far too much time rearranging bottles for the day.”
“So it wasn’t just me, then?” Winnie asked. “I thought that man had spent an outrageous amount of time moving around like three bottles of massage oil. I was starting to get concerned I was seeing shit.”
Georgia laughed. “Pretty sure it was Cassie’s dining offer that flustered him a bit.”
“A bit?” Winnie laughed. “How about next time you refrain from offering to breastfeed the staff?”
“Does this rule only a
pply to massages?” I asked.
“You are deranged.”
I laughed. “Thanks, Wheorgie. I love you too. Make sure Kline slicks down his rain jacket before heading out into the backwoods.”
She groaned. “I’m never going to hear the end of that, am I?”
“Nope,” Winnie and I both responded without a second thought.
The door closed with a slam that startled me awake from dreams that were part nightmare. My eyes searched the panes of the ceiling as I tried to get my bearings and figure out where the fuck I was and what I was doing there.
After Winnie and Georgia had left and the pageant started, things turned pretty quickly to my version of hell.
Thatch, with his mini-me strapped to his chest, mocked every single one of my players as they tried to turn themselves into dancers in the name of the opening number of the pageant. Rollins had rhythm, and Sean Phillips looked like you could drop him right in the middle of anything—preparation that was no doubt at least in part thanks to his sister—but Jeremy Overshaw and Deshaun Littleton were the complete opposite of okay.
They swayed to the music and shuffled their feet, but their timing was off, and every time they had to do anything to actually lead their partner, they ended up hindering them. It was a spectacle that had the audience laughing instead of watching in awe, and Thatch didn’t waste the opportunity to run his mouth constantly.
“Oh, sneakers,” he’d announced, leaning down to Ace to point out Overshaw’s flaws. “Did you see that? I think he almost decapitated her.”
I’d tried to tune him out, but when amusing bumbles turned to anarchy, the difficult task became impossible.
“He’s down!” Thatch had nearly yelled as Littleton and the girl he was escorting hit the stage floor with a thud. He dropped his voice to that of a sports announcer and ran down the play-by-play helpfully as I jumped to my feet in fear that one of my best players had gone down during the Miss Teen USA pageant rather than in a fucking game. “He steps back out of the pocket and shuffles, but oh, here she comes out of the backfield, Little Miss Muffet breaking through the line and bringing him down for a loss of five yards and just about all of his pride.” Ace, an apple picked right from his father’s tree, apparently, even squealed in agreement, a giggle of glee piercing the air.