The Bad Boy Next Door: Lance & Chastity

by Devon Hartford

  The fear on Lance’s face is burned away by his devil’s grin. “Your pussy is all over my dick. I can still feel it.” He already has the condom out and rolls it on. He pushes into me and groans. “Fuck.”

  Fuck is right.

  With the condom on, I feel no inhibitions. “Fuck me, Lance. Fuck me hard.”

  His eyes flame and he walks me forward until my breasts and forearms press against the dressing room mirror. I spread my legs wide. I’m vaguely aware of the hum of customers shopping in the store. His cock slides slowly in and out.

  It feels so good and so naughty I whimper.

  Loudly.

  “Shh,” he teases in my ear. “They’ll kick us out if they catch us.”

  I whimper again, not caring.

  “Do you want to get kicked out or do you want to get fucked?” He punctuates his words with deep thrusts.

  “Fucked,” I moan. With his fingers stroking my clit and him filling me to the hilt with every thrust, all I can think about is sex and the need to revel in as much sex as possible.

  Lance pulls on my hair and grabs my neck with his palm. For a second, I think he’s going to choke me, but he doesn’t. Just strokes me lightly, caressing my skin down to my chest until he grabs my breast and squeezes. His abs are hot against my back and I push into him, loving every second of this.

  When I think it can’t get any kinkier, he pulls away and something hard presses against the tight nub of my butt. At first I clench, resisting, but he’s insistent. His cock is still throbbing inside me so it must be his fingers. Or that thumb of his. I relax. It eases in just a bit and pushes gently in and out. The pressure of being filled in both holes is the dirtiest thing I’ve ever done. Somehow this drives me crazier and everything tightens to maximum.

  “Oh fuck,” Lance whispers hoarsely. “I’m gonna come, Pink. Come inside your pussy.”

  He twitches and that throws me over the edge.

  “Ma’am?” Butt Nugget asks through the curtain. “There are other customers waiting to use the dressing room. Are you almost finished with the outfits I picked out?” She knows it’s me.

  “No!” Lance grunts.

  Considering this is a clothing store for women, and Lance has an unmistakably masculine voice, him saying No! is all kinds of wrong and every kind of hilarious. As tightly as I’m clenching through my silent orgasm, the urge to burst into laughter shakes through me and I blurt out once before clamping my mouth shut.

  “Sir? There are no men allowed in the changing rooms.”

  “Yeah!” Lance laugh-chuckles. “Be right out!”

  I snicker through clamped lips, near tears.

  “Sir? Ma’am? I’ll have to ask you to stop whatever you’re doing and come out right now.”

  “I’m coming,” Lance grunts. “Coming right now.”

  “Sir?”

  Lance wraps his arms around my waist and hugs me from behind. He pulses inside me, emptying himself.

  I push against him and moan loud enough for Butt Nugget to hear.

  “Slut,” she grumbles under her breath before walking off.

  I’m secretly proud of myself.

  Yes. She’s right.

  I am a slut.

  Chapter 17

  CHASTITY

  “I need to change.”

  “No. Leave the bodysuit on.”

  “But it’s soaked, Lance!”

  “And it’s gonna stay that way. I want you wet all day for me. I’m gonna have to fuck you again in less than an hour. No use cleaning up.”

  “You are a total pervert.” Apparently, I am too because I leave the bodysuit on and put the jeans and belt over it.

  Lance rolls up the used condom and is about to slide it into his pocket.

  “Gross,” I grimace.

  “Did you want me to leave it here?”

  “Good point.”

  He puts it in his pocket.

  Butt Nugget is at the register when we pay. She grimaces the entire time she rings us up. The bill is almost $1,600 and that’s for only six outfits. But they can be mixed and matched in two dozen different ways. I tell Lance it’s too much, but he insists. I offer to take it out of my paycheck but he refuses.

  Who am I to complain?

  We walk outside with Lance holding four big Nasty Doll bags like he’s my overburdened manservant.

  “Give me some of those bags. I feel stupid with you carrying everything.” I yank away the two in his left hand before he can stop me. I look at Lance thoughtfully.

  The harsh sunlight somehow accents his rugged features. He is impossibly gorgeous in this light. Irresistible. His stubble makes me crazy. His eyes glimmer sun diamonds.

  “Something on your mind?” he asks.

  “I need to get on the pill. Today.”

  “I vote yes to that.”

  “I think I can go to Planned Parenthood and get it there.”

  “Consider it part of your job description.”

  “Um, that makes me sound like a whore.”

  “My whore,” he grins and pulls me into him with his free arm. “You’re gonna be a kept woman. Get used to it.”

  Why does that not bother me?

  We kiss for a minute standing in front of Nasty Doll. I hope Butt Nugget is watching.

  I can’t decide if we’re a couple. We’re acting like one. Sort of. But are we? Or is this just some sick game that Lance will get bored of next week or next month? I don’t know. And I don’t want to worry about it now. Now I want to enjoy myself. It’s too beautiful a day not too. “Now what?”

  “We have one more stop.” He leads me down the sunshine sidewalk.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To the Fashion District.”

  I hold up my Nasty Doll bag. “I already have enough fashion to last me all year.”

  “You need shoes.” Nasty Doll has shoes, but Lance wouldn’t let me buy any. I thought he was trying to put a cap on the budget.

  I shake my head and laugh. “You can’t buy me any more stuff today!”

  “You can’t wear those shoes with these clothes.”

  Although I’m braless and pantyless in the black bodysuit and jeans, my feet glow pink. My Keds. “Fine,” I grumble smile. “By the way, you never told me how much you’re paying me. For the job, I mean.”

  “I was thinking forty.”

  “Forty what?”

  “K.”

  “You mean forty thousand? A year?”

  He nods.

  That is way more than I made at Marble Slab. Today is too good to be true. “Wow! I’m rich!” I laugh. “I’ll totally pay you back for all these clothes!”

  He shakes his head, smirking.

  “I’m not rich?”

  “No. I told you earlier I won’t be taking any money out of your paycheck. But you can pay me back in other ways.” His eyes burn and his devil’s grin sizzles.

  If it wasn’t before, my bodysuit is now officially soaked.

  We walk into an old building in the Fashion District and ride the rickety old cage elevator up to the eighth floor. It has one of those accordion gates with the metal X’s and it’s layered with a rainbow of peeling paint beneath the most recent coat of gray. The gate rattles when Lance closes it.

  I grin, “Are we gonna have sex in the elevator? It feels so… dungeony.”

  “Too short a ride for my taste. Plus, no whips or chains.”

  “You are so bad…”

  “Yup.”

  The eighth floor hallway has no windows and the gray walls are dimly lit by bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling. It’s a dank cave.

  I step off the elevator first. “Where are we?”

  “You’re gonna love this place.”

  Not by the looks of it. It’s too grimy.

  At the end of the hallway, he knocks on a heavy gray steel door scuffed with black streaks.

  After several minutes, the door creaks open.

  “Lance, darling!” the man inside gasps. He wears a white an
d cream three-piece suit with an aqua blue tie, aqua blue patent leather shoes, and a matching wave of perfectly coifed aqua blue and blond ombre hair. “So good to see you!” He air kisses Lance with fastidious delight then turns to me. “May I presume this is your muse?” He looks me over. “She’s not the hot mess express you usually prefer. This one has charm.” His brows knit together. “But those shoes will never do.” He turns his nose up at my pink Keds like they actually stink.

  Lance grins, “Yeah. This is her. Sylvan, meet my girl Chastity.”

  He just called me his girl. I swoon but hide it.

  Sylvan throws his head back and laughs. “Chastity? Please tell me a gorgeous thing like you does not live up to your namesake, otherwise I mourn Lance the loss of his treasured sex life.”

  Obviously, they know each other.

  “Um…” I’m speechless.

  “We’re fucking,” Lance smirks, his eyes flashing.

  “Lance!” I smack his elbow, blushing beet red. “What is wrong with you?”

  He shrugs. “What can I say? I want everyone to know I’m fucking the hottest girl in LA.”

  Okay, I’m flattered. But does the “we’re fucking” comment downgrade the “his girl” comment he made a second ago? I hope not.

  “Now that that is out of the way,” Sylvan laughs, “let’s do something about those gruesome shoes. Welcome to paradise.” He sweeps his arms toward the interior of the brightly lit impeccably white studio.

  The walls are lined with what looks like gigantic white honeycomb cubbies. More honeycomb pods rise up in the center of the room. Inside each white hexagonal hole is a different pair of shoes. There are hundreds of pairs, almost like this place is a gigantic walk-in beehive in white. Instead of storing honey, the honeycomb stores delicious shoes in every color and style. I’ve never seen anything like them, every last pair is a chic and sexy woman’s shoe. From casual to dress, flats to stilettos, it’s everything a shoe whore could ever want.

  If Christian Louboutin has a cool secret showroom, I bet it looks exactly like this. Or wishes it did.

  I’m blown away.

  Lance says. “Hook her up with whatever she needs.”

  Sylvan grins at me, his eyes gleaming. “Where shall we start, my dear?”

  I am in heaven.

  ++++8++++

  CHASTITY

  The rest of the week is a blur.

  I spend nights at Lance’s house because I can’t bear to face Mom. I text Charity every day and call her when I can so she doesn’t worry about me. And to lift her spirits. I feel like I’ve abandoned her.

  I never talk to Mom. Maybe when I’m ready.

  I’ve had enough of her drama for the time being.

  Lance bought me a sexy leather jacket for our motorcycle commute. It goes perfectly with the pair of black boots I got from Sylvan. Yes, I officially look like a rocker chick. Lance and I always arrive early to the office. Beaver is usually leaving and doesn’t return until late at night. Micah comes in at regular hours and I get to know him over lunches with Lance. The three of us always eat together. Micah lives with his girlfriend Shiloh. They’ve been together four years. She’s an actress who’s claim to fame is a Geico commercial and a few smaller ads for cable.

  The first thing I do for Lance is help him organize everything. North Valley High had a Business Basics class that I took, so I know my way around Microsoft Office. Unlike my other classes, I aced Business Basics, so I have something to contribute.

  I also take over Lance’s list of contacts and his calendar, and answer phones. Calls come in all day long. What I didn’t realize at first is that Lance runs a full-fledged business. Not only does he have songs for sale online, he sells merchandise of every kind imaginable. Vinyl records. Cassette tapes, which I never knew existed until Lance played me one on an old boom box in his office. I didn’t even know what a boom box was until he explained it. Who knew? He also sells TH3 PH4NTüM branded shirts, shoes, jewelry, watches, skateboards, custom glows sticks, and my favorite: the pacifiers with little silver phantom masks with light up LED eyes. It also turns out Beaver does app development for Lance. Lance has his own TH3 PH4NTüM game. I joked he should do a men’s fragrance and he said he’s already working on one but hasn’t yet worked out a deal he likes. He even showed me several actual glass bottle designs that incorporated various versions of his silver phantom mask. He does everything.

  To my surprise, we’re so busy all week, we don’t have time for work sex.

  We make up for it every night at Lance’s house after Mr. McKnight is in bed. We use condoms every time. If Mr. McKnight hears us having sex, he never says anything, but he must know. I can’t imagine what my Mom would be like if she knew we were having sex in her house. Actually, I can. She’d find a priest to exorcise me. People and their differences are fascinating.

  Fortunately, my period comes on like clockwork on Friday. Lance and I breathe a sigh of relief and vow to be more careful.

  On Sunday, I start the pills we got at Planned Parenthood. I also skip church. It’s just a coincidence. I think.

  Anyway, for the first time since Dad moved out, I don’t go to Sunday Service with Mom and Charity. It feels really weird not to. I consider it. Lance even offers to go. But I just can’t do it. I don’t want to face Mom or Mr. Molton. Later that day, I find out through Charity that Mr. Molton’s son Caden is okay. He had a concussion, but it wasn’t serious. What a relief. I still don’t want to see Mr. Molton. Or his wife Amy. He must’ve told her he caught me having sex. I know her. She works at the shop all the time and would want an explanation as to why he fired me. What else other then the truth would be believable? Even the truth seems ridiculous unless you were there. Amy probably didn’t believe it at first. I hate to imagine the look on her pious face when she finally accepted it. Disgust. Yeah, no. Skip that.

  The next week goes by just as quick. Working for Lance is non-stop work. Who would’ve thought? But I love every second of it. Lance is the best boss ever.

  And the sexiest.

  The following Wednesday, Lance walks in after lunch wearing an impeccable silver suit with a vest, no tie, and a white button down shirt open at the collar.

  Sex beast! I didn’t think Lance could do dress up. I goggle, “Where’d you get that suit?”

  “Picked it up at my tailor today.”

  “It looks… incredible.”

  “I’d fuck him,” Beaver says.

  Lance smirks, “You’d fuck a knothole.”

  “That’s why they call me Beaver!” He bucks his front teeth over his lower lip and makes this rapid fire beaver clucking sound with his tongue before turning back to his computer.

  I laugh. After going on two weeks, I like the guy. He’s sex obsessed, but he’s harmless.

  “You look fucking hot,” Lance says to me.

  “You told me to dress rock and roll.” I’m wearing a black crop top and black leather skirt with my knee high black biker boots.

  Lance says to me, “We have two presentations this afternoon.”

  “Is that why you’re all dressed up?”

  “Yup. You ready to meet your first investor?”

  “My investor? I’m just your assistant!”

  “You kidding? The more money I make, the more money you make. If we get an investor on board and my next video blows up, I’ll double your salary.”

  “Double? That’s eighty grand! I think that’s more than my Dad makes.”

  “What can I say? You proved yourself last week.”

  “All I did was organize your office. Nobody gets paid eighty grand for filing and answering the phones.”

  “You can be the first. Anyway, that’s all an if. If we get money for the video. If it blows up. If, if, if.” His tone hints at the hidden stress he must be carrying.

  I’m afraid to ask. I don’t want to burst the fantasy bubble just yet. We’re on a roll and I’d like to keep it that way. And besides, the outfits are real. The office is real. Lance is
real. The work is real. So what am I worrying about?

  “Anyway,” he sighs. “We need to nail this meeting if we want to get money. We better leave now if we wanna beat traffic.”

  Micah drives us in his Mini Cooper. Beaver snores in the front passenger seat. Lance and I are in the back. Lance barely fits in the small seat, but he holds my hand the entire drive.

  As we pass under the 405 heading west on the 10, I ask, “How come Beaver is here? He should be home sleeping.”

  “In case we have a problem with the video.”

  “And me? What should I do at the meeting?”

  “Take notes. Listen. Watch people for anything I might miss. I don’t know how many people will be in the room.”

  “I can handle that.”

  “That’s why I hired you.” His eyes drop to my cleavage. “And look hot.”

  I blush. “I’ll do my best.”

  “You’re doing fine from where I’m sitting. Mmm, mmm.” He reaches over and taps Beaver’s shoulder. “Hey. Beaver. You gonna be awake during the meeting?”

  Beaver snorts, “Huff?” Then resumes snoring.

  Lance chuckles. “Fucking Beaver.”

  I have the best job ever.

  ++++8++++

  CHASTITY

  No.

  No, no, no.

  No to Lance’s idea for his video, no to the song, and no to the money. That’s all we hear all day.

  At the first meeting in Santa Monica at a major talent agency, the guys in suits with the manicured nails sitting across from us at the boardroom table in the meeting room aren’t interested. They think Lance’s song is derivative and the market is over saturated with EDM. If Lance had come to them with this idea a year ago, they said, then maybe. But not now.

  “That went well,” Lance grunts over lunch at the Third Street Promenade.

  The second meeting is the opposite. A recording studio just off Wilshire Boulevard near the beach. The investors are casual, wearing shorts and T-shirts like they were just surfing and they all say “dude” a lot. They also say Lance’s concept is too different. Too out there. They don’t think the target demographic will get it. Not what I expected from their casual surfer attitude.