by Richard Fore
Seth instantly sees who he wants and grabs hold of me like the Grinch seizing his dog after realizing Christmas still came to Whoville. “Twins,” he says. There are indeed twins present. Seth looks back at them. “Twins,” he repeats. “Identical twins. Two sisters who look exactly alike.”
“That’d be twins,” I say. The pair are tall brunettes and very slender. They appear completely in synch with one another, when they walked into the room their arms and legs moved in unison.
“You going to do a ménage a twin?” asks Jimmy. “That’s borderline incestuous. It’s unnatural.”
“As long as they don’t touch each other I guess it’s okay,” says Chris.
Seth does not hear them. He walks over to the twins and places his hands on both of their butts. “What are your names?” he asks.
“I’m Lacey,” says the one on the left.
“I’m Stacey,” says the one on the right.
“We’re the Lee twins,” they both say as if they were a female Tomax and Xamot.
Seth makes a sound that resembles no language I’ve ever heard but clearly indicates joy. He squeezes the butts of Lacey and Stacey hard. “That’s wonderful. Now, you don’t need to know my name. All you need to know is that we three are about to enter into the sexual trifecta that is the ménage a trios.” Seth suddenly retracts his hands from the twins’ butts like he’d just touched the still heated blade of a freshly forged sword. “You two do work together, right?” he asks. “You’re not just putting on the single most vindictive cocktease in history, are you?”
The twins kiss Seth on both cheeks. Relieved, his hands go back on their butts. “Lacey. Stacey. Normally I’m quite charming. But in this case I don’t have to be. And I won’t waste my time and your time engaging in worthless conversation such as where I’m from and what I do. I’ll only say that I’ve waited for this day for a very long time now, and that our party must end with me lying in the middle of the bed with my arms around you both. Now let us begin.” Seth retreats into the back with Lacey and Stacey, his hands never leaving their butts.
“And then there were three,” says Chris. The sirens standing in front of us remain silent. None approach us. If it comes down to only the girls and me, I wonder how long the ensuing staring contest would go on.
“Two,” says Jimmy. “I see who I want.” Jimmy approaches a petite Japanese girl who couldn’t embrace more stereotypes if she tried. She wears a plaid schoolgirl uniform complete with white bobby socks, and her hair is worn in pigtails. The girl also wears a pink backpack, which can only be of the Hello Kitty variety. Whatever her not so subtle attire failed to suggest about her age is complimented by her total lack of a bust.
“Always someone with the Asian persuasion who comes to the sensation,” says the girl with a noticeable but understandable accent. She pulls out a yo-yo and performs a modest trick before thrusting it back in her pocket.
Jimmy smiles. “My name is Jimmy Shannon,” he says kissing her hand. “And you are?”
“Sakura.”
“Sakura, I must say you have a wonderful kitsune quality about you.” Sakura looks at Jimmy blankly. “Don’t you speak Japanese?” he asks.
“Not a word aside from hi and bye,” says Sakura, ditching her accent. “My real name is Jaclyn. The accent is as fake as the outfit. Most guys who come to me just want a little Asian Lolita and don’t usually challenge me on the language.”
“No matter,” says Jimmy. He undoes Sakura’s pigtails and grabs her yo-yo, chucking it across the room so it lands behind the bar. “I’m not looking for an innocent little Lolita to defile, anyway. I want something a little more feral. I want you to…”
The rest I’m unable to hear as Jimmy whispers it into Sakura’s ear. A true professional, she doesn’t react much to his request although it’s evident she hasn’t been asked to do this before. “I can handle that,” she says. Sakura takes Jimmy’s hand and they disappear into the back.
“Down to just us,” says Chris. “So who you picking?”
I’m hoping for a fully loaded tour bus to pull up so that all remaining girls will soon be taken and I won’t be forced to make a decision. They’re all beautiful, but I know there’s no way I could ever just walk over to one like Seth and Jimmy did. Not for what they’re offering.
“I can’t decide,” I say.
“What about the one third from the left?” asks Chris. “The redhead, I mean. She’s got a sizeable bust. At least I think she does, but maybe you wouldn’t, you who must bow before Queen Titania herself. But if you wanted her I was gonna let you have her, although she does have some adorable tootsies. Plus she kinda looks like Mary Jane, and I ain’t talking about the Kirsten Dunst version. I’m talking about The Amazing Spider-Man #350 page twenty-five, panel three Mary Jane. That’s the kind of Mary Jane I’m talking about.”
“Yeah, she does look like Mary Jane,” I say. “But you can choose her if you want. Might make my decision easier, having less women to choose from. Why don’t you ask all of them to get barefoot, though? One of them might have even more attractive feet that you can’t see because of her shoes. Don’t you want to find out who has the nicest ones?” I do not want Chris to go. I do not want to be alone with these women. Being the only one left puts all the pressure on me to make a decision.
“Man,” says Chris, “when the Lady of the Lake rises nude out of the water and presents you with Excalibur, you don’t say ‘well that’s mighty thoughtful of you miss, but to be honest I had my heart set on Ultima Weapon.’ That’s just bad form. Bad form, man.”
“I don’t remember the Lady of the Lake explicitly being described as nude,” I say. “In fact, in most of the art I can think of she’s usually depicted with only her hand coming out of the water clutching Excalibur.”
“Oh, her being nude is in the lore, man. It’s in there. Malory or Tennyson, I know one of them didn’t leave it to doubt. Probably Malory, he was a total player.”
Chris walks over to the Mary Jane-like redhead. “My name’s Chris Cartwright and I have a foot fetish,” he declares without a hint of shame.
“Hi, Chris,” says the redhead. “My name’s Rebecca Eden.”
“Rebecca,” says Chris, “my friend over there is a boob man. But see, you only have two breasts. Yet you have ten toes. So I’m going to be getting five times the pleasure out of you that he would. Now how would you like to begin our party by being given the best foot massage you’ve ever had? No work necessary on your part. All you have to do is just lie back and enjoy it.”
“I’d love that,” says Rebecca. She jumps into Chris’ arms.
“You’re on your own,” says Chris as he carries Rebecca into the back.
The remaining women now all look at me. I try not to focus on any given one and scan over the entire lineup in an effort to avoid making eye contact. To the Moonlite Bunny Ranch’s credit, there seems to be something for everyone here, a worthy successor to Solomon’s harem.
“Looks like you’re a shy one,” says a different blonde than the White Queen. She walks over to me. “I like the shy ones,” the blonde whispers in my ear. She wears a pink t-shirt that says Cutie with the symbol for pi beneath it and denim shorts. “You want to come and have a party with me, shy guy?” she asks as she runs her hand through my hair.
I nod, partly because she is admittedly stunning but also because I like her shirt. And she asked me to come with her, sparing me the embarrassment of having to speak several stuttered utterances requesting that she come with me. Cutie Pi takes me by the hand and leads me into the back.
The exterior of the Ranch is akin to a motel, while the interior is much more hospitable. The bedroom is nicely furnished. A king-sized bed with black satin sheets lies in the center of the room as if it were a black hole always ready to suck you in from wherever else you might happen to be. Likely all the beds in the Ranch are kings in order to accommodate the more than two participant parties partaken in by revelers such as Seth.
The
re is also a leather couch and a Jacuzzi tub in the bathroom for those looking for something a bit more creative to have their parties in. Finally, there’s a fireplace to cuddle by for those inclined to have what Seth called the girlfriend experience, where the party simulates a more intimate encounter one would share with someone with whom they felt emotionally connected. Seth was quite adamant about not having a girlfriend experience.
Cutie Pi removes her shoes and hops on the bed, lying on her stomach with her legs in the air. While still wearing socks, she moved into the position unasked, a maneuver which would surely be to the absolute delight of Chris. Hands under her chin, Cutie Pi stares at me like a dreamy-eyed teenager gazing at her boyfriend as they share a milkshake. She kicks her legs back and forth slowly, saying nothing.
I imagine hearing the footman from Warcraft II saying ‘Awaiting orders!’ But unprepared to give any commands, I sit down on the couch and stare back at Cutie Pi. She is familiar to me, and I realize that she’s an adult film actress I’ve seen before online.
“My name’s Christine Dayspring,” says Cutie Pi after another moment of silence. “But from the way you’re looking at me I think you already know that.”
“I’m Erik,” I say. That’s a fitting name as the woman I’m with is a blonde named Christine and I’m attempting to stay masked. “And I do recognize you.”
“Any particular scene you were thinking about upon recognizing me?”
“The one where you’re the teacher came to mind.”
“Oh, I’ve done several of those. I’ve been typecast a little bit. I think it’s because of how nice I look in glasses.” Christine wears no glasses now, but she’s right, she does look good in them.
“You were an English teacher in the one I’m thinking of. And you wanted to give your favorite student a reward for getting an A+ on his final exam.”
“Mm, I like that one, too. But I bet you never thought you’d ever be getting a real life lesson from me, did you?”
“No.”
“So why don’t you come over here and we’ll start today’s lesson.”
“How about you start by getting undressed.”
Christine bounds up and sits at the edge of the bed. “Would you like to help me?”
I nod no.
“If you want something done right,” Christine says crossing her legs, “you have to do it yourself.”
I don’t move.
“Okay, just watch then.” Christine takes off her socks and dangles her feet off the bed, wiggling her toes like Ariel after first exchanging her fin for feet. She then rises and pulls off her shirt, revealing a white bra underneath. With a single masterful movement Christine undoes the bra one-handed style and discards it. Accurately predicting I would find it appealing she then fondles both of her breasts and kisses her nipples. Her shorts are unzipped and tossed to me. She then lies on her stomach wearing only a thong and slaps her ass. Sitting back up Christine then pulls down on her underwear, about to become completely nude.
“No. Stop. Keep it on. That’s enough for now,” I say. Christine looks at me puzzled, but even so, she does as asked.
Christine can now see that the task at hand will not be easy. I look at the fireplace across the room. Should the situation become dire I can always bat Christine away with a makeshift torch as Saint Thomas Aquinas once fought off his temptress. Upon maintaining his chastity two angels are said to have visited Thomas Aquinas and given him the strength to remain chaste forever. But as I am not doing so out of religious devotion, if two angels are looking upon me now, one must be rolling his eyes and the other doing a facepalm.
“You’re not simply shy, are you,” says Christine. “You’re a virgin.” Her tone is matter-of-fact, not accusatory in the slightest. Christine is a consummate professional, within her I see only a desire to make me happy and therefore no matter what I do, I cannot disappoint her, for she has no expectations. I’m grateful to her for that.
“I am,” I say. I deliver my line as if I were a Terminator responding to a question in the affirmative, incapable of emoting to the slightest degree.
“How old are you?” Christine asks as she shifts to lie on her back, her head hanging off the bed. She smiles, a lighthearted pose for a lighthearted query.
“I’m a child of the eighties. I was born the summer Conan the Barbarian came out to theatres.”
“Okay, but I’m not really up on my barbarians. But you’re an eighties kid, you say. Are you testing me because you liked my shirt and you want to see if I have some mad math skills or are you just being difficult?”
“Maybe both.”
Christine laughs, looking particularly cute with her head still dangling off the bed. “Well, if you’re an eighties kid that would put you somewhere between twenty-six and seventeen. But since they let you in here to play you must be at least eighteen. But you look older than that. I’d say you’re somewhere in your mid-twenties.”
“That’s right.”
“I’m a child of the eighties myself. So what made you a late bloomer, though? You’re a cute guy.”
“I’m just waiting for the right girl to come along.”
“Ah, and she has a name, doesn’t she?”
“Yes. Jessica.”
Christine sits back up. “You know, a lot of the men who come here need to talk. They’re looking for a bit of therapy. And a lot of men in therapy just need to get laid. So talk to me, sweety.” She smiles and invites me over by patting the bed.
I sit down next to Christine and she snuggles up next to me. My arm goes around her and I stroke her hair softly.
“Does Jessica know how you feel?” asks Christine.
“No,” I say. “I don’t think so. Every time I tip toe around it by complimenting her or something she just brushes it off.”
“So don’t tip toe around it.”
“But I don’t want her to reject me and have it ruin our friendship. And she already has a boyfriend/fiancé, even though they break up all the time.”
“How long have you known her?”
“A little over a year.” I poke Christine in her navel and she giggles, although I don’t know if she did so because it was expected of her or if she was really tickled. But I see in her a capacity for honesty, a recognition that I need tenderness from her, and can believe her reaction was genuine. “May I kiss you down there?” I ask.
“Yes, you can.” Christine shuffles to the front of the bed and lies against the headboard. “My belly button’s an outie. Do you like innies or outies more?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I kiss Christine’s navel. I don’t know which kind of navel Jessica has, but I know whichever kind it is she’s unhappy with it, which only makes me want to kiss hers even more.
I lie down next to Christine and she takes my hand. “How long have you felt this way about Jessica?” she asks.
“I’ve been attracted to her since I first met her. We started out just being friends because she was already with her boyfriend/fiancé when we met. I really fell for her though when we were at the movies and during one of the trailers some pop music began playing and Jessica started dancing to it in her chair. She’s the kind of girl that’d want you to give her a piggyback ride in public.”
Christine smiles and rubs her nose against mine in a quick Eskimo kiss. “You’re a sweet guy, you know that?”
“It doesn’t pay as well as they say. May I touch your breasts?”
“You sure can. Give em’ a good feel.” Christine gets on top of me and places my hands on her breasts. “And you don’t have to keep asking for permission to engage in these little trivialities. Everything’s a go with me as far as normal boy/girl relations are concerned. But as for your case of nice guy syndrome, being nice isn’t the problem. It’s that often times niceness goes hand in hand with inaction. I think you should straight up tell Jessica how you feel about her without beating around the bush.”
“But that puts what we have now at risk. I don’t want to lose that.”<
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“Are you letting your love for this girl prevent you from meeting anyone else?”
“Yes,” I admit.
“Then I think it’s worth the risk. But what about before you met Jessica? What was stopping you from meeting someone then?”
“Talking to you like this is making me feel like I should be lying on a couch while you sit in a chair taking notes.”
“I don’t need to take notes. I was a waitress for a long time and never wrote anything down then, either. But if you’d feel more comfortable on the couch with your hands off my boobs then I can get dressed, put on my glasses, and have you call me Dr. Dayspring.”
“No, that’s alright, I like it this way just fine. But would you lie down on your stomach for me?”
Christine does as asked. “Not to be presumptuous, but there’s some massage oil in one of the drawers next to the bed,” she says resting her chin on her hands.
My oiled up hands begin massaging Christine’s back and like with Montana Wild, the situation is perfect. Christine is as naked as I could ever want her to be, and I can enjoy all of her as she is now with no need to proceed any further.
“A massage while I’m on the clock,” she says. “I’m glad I gave up waitressing. But go on, you were going to explain to me your situation before you met Jessica.”
“I’m a pretty shy guy,” I say. “I never really dated that much in high school. I met a few girls online and then in person, but things never really went anywhere with them. Then when I was a senior towards the end of the year I started seeing this girl named Nicole, and we were far enough along that we went to the prom together. I didn’t really care about going, but she wanted to. So we went.
“Then while we were on the dance floor I kissed her and she kissed me back, we’d kissed before and everything. But then Nicole sees this guy that she’s always liked walk by and then suddenly she pushes me off of her because she doesn’t want him to see her kissing me. Nicole looked horrified that she did it. She honestly was upset about it and she apologized and everything, but she still did it. We broke up not long after that. And that still remains the single most significant relationship that I’ve had.”