Be careful what you wish for (closed)

[Curious_Muse]

Be careful what you wish for (closed for LitShark and Curious Muse)

This thread is closed for LitShark and me.


Paul Anderson looked out of the open kitchen window and watched his teenage daughter Olivia in another stand-off with her mother, but he was too preoccupied to feel stung by her unwillingness to attend his 50. birthday party.

Things had gone south at work recently, and he needed to fix it.

He opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of beer. Neither his lovely wife Kate nor his daughter had ever wondered out loud how an accountant working for a company shipping fruit from Mexico and South America to supermarkets across the country was able to afford the lifestyle they had: Olivia’s private education, the nice house in an upper middle class suburb, the three cars, the personal trainers, the swanky holidays in resorts all along the Mexican coast. Olivia found his profession way too boring to show even feigned interest in what he did all day, and Kate did not talk to him about much at all anymore.

It was likely that neither of them suspected the fruit company to be a front for an international drug cartel based in Mexico, and that the avocados, mangos and pineapples shipped into the US were by far not the only delights they distributed to willing buyers north of the border.

Thanks to years of hard work and a keen sense for numbers Paul had gained the appreciation and trust of his employers and had worked his way up to a management position, a comfortable salary, and a better-dressed social circle of friends for his wife and daughter. While the more generous amongst his acquaintances would probably describe him to be a “good egg”, most thought of him as pretty dull. However, he was excellent at his job, and it just so happened that his skill to juggle eye-watering amounts of cash between dozens of accounts on five continents, and all without rousing the suspicion of the Feds or the IRS, was in high demand amongst people who were willing to pay good money for it.

He simply hired out his wage labor to those who valued it the most, just as everybody else tried to do. Paul Anderson never thought of himself as a mobster.

But recently, money had gone missing. Not a lot of money, measured against the sums moved across borders and into offshore accounts every day and chances were that so far, the bosses down south had not even noticed. Small amounts of cash pried from transactions here and there, everything in less than five figures, over a period of several months and counting.

Paul took another swig from the bottle and noticed that his hand was shaking.

Of course he had nothing to do with the missing money. He prided himself in being a meticulous and honest worker, someone who considered all company property, including blocks of sticky notes and highlighters, strictly off limits. He would never dream of stealing from the firm. But he was the head accountant, and therefore responsible to make sure that his employers’ money was safely moving along the channels it was supposed to.

The thing was that he had not told anyone yet. In his opinion it was better to let sleeping dogs lie. Why occupy the Mexicans’ time with something so trivial? He had been sure to be able to catch the person who had had his or her hand in the cookie jar and fix this problem without making a fuss. However, the little mouse had turned out to be cleverer than he had initially thought, and he had not gotten any further in his inquiries.

And now, weeks later, his silence might start to look conspicuously like complicity to an unkind observer.

“Are you coming, Paul? We need help lighting the BBQ!”

He waved at her through the window. “I’ll be right there, darling! I was just checking if we have enough beers in the fridge!”

Paul hoped that his joyous expression looked believable. Things had been shaky between Kate and him for a while, and he wanted to convince his wife that he was looking forward to the birthday party she had planned for weeks. He loved her, and he knew that he was neglecting her for his job. As soon as this affair was sorted, he would take her up on her wish to see a relationship councilor to signal his intent to do better.

Downing the rest of the beer, he promised himself that he would give himself one more week to look for the pickpocket.

***

“Why do I have to be here for this stupid BBQ?” Olivia whined. “All of your friends are so old!”

“Because it is your father’s birthday.”

Olivia threw herself theatrically into one of the chairs by the pool. It was simply not fair. Everybody else from her school – everyone that mattered, anyway – would be at her best friend Emily's house tonight. Emily’s parents were away and she was throwing a party, and since this was their senior year and because Emily was a spoiled little deviant, this one would be epic.

Emily Cooper really had it all. She was beautiful, smart, and rich enough not to have to care about what anyone thought of her. Her parents both worked in executive jobs in the movie business, and she was their only daughter. They lived in an amazing house that towered above the (private) beach, and they had staff! Olivia scowled watching her mother fiddle with the BBQ. For tonight Emily had hired a sushi chef and some underground bar celebrity who had created a line of cocktails just for this party. It was simply unbelievable that she was not allowed to go.

“This is my last year of high school!” Olivia tried again. “I cannot believe that you would do this to me!”

Her mother rolled her eyes. “There will be other parties.”

“Not like this one.”

“For all your father does for you, you could at least show enough gratitude to be there when he turns 50, Olivia. This really isn’t too much to ask.”

Olivia crossed her arms in front of her chest and huffed. Her father! How often had she wished to have a father like her friends in school, a powerful lawyer, or someone who ran a tech empire, someone cool. Her dad? Her dad was a banana seller, and he was boring and old-fashioned. Sometimes she wondered why they even lived where they did. Her dad would not even let her drink alcohol because the law said so, and when he once busted her smoking weed, he had grounded her for over a month. What should she be grateful for? For still being treated like a little girl? For constantly missing out on life, because he was a loser and wanted everyone else to be, too? Fuck that.

“Plus, you know that I don’t like you hanging out at Emily’s house when her parents aren’t there”, her mom carried on. “That girl just doesn’t have any healthy boundaries for her age. The drugs, the booze…the boys.”

“We are high school seniors, mom! Of course there will be booze and boys! Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Language, young lady.” Her mom sighed. “And you have been 18 for a week. There will be plenty of time for all of that.”

It was hopeless. If truth be told, Olivia didn’t even care all that much about the boys at her school. Those who weren’t entitled, preppy assholes were ridiculous posers who talked big because their rich daddies had their backs when they got in trouble, and that trouble never consisted of anything truly exciting, or dangerous. And despite all the constant manly boasting and the locker room talk, Olivia had the impression had that few of them had any real ideas of how to handle a woman, even if she had never gotten past some fondling and groping herself.

But Olivia wanted more, and Emily had promised that at tonight’s event, there would be men, not high school boys, looking to party. Men, with – how had she put it? – “ill intentions”. Emily, having long gotten rid of her virginity, was somewhat of an authority when it came to sex, and Olivia was tired of still being so clueless. She was sure that the party would have proved an excellent remedy to her curiosity.

Now she would hang out with his father’s dull colleagues, watch them chew on BBQ meat and listen to them complain about hick-ups in the mango delivery chain.

With a sour pout Olivia sat down by the edge of the pool and drew figures into the still surface of the water with her naked feet. Why not drop dead right away, and be done with this interlude of a so-called life?

 

[LitShark]

In the whole world, Diego Torres couldn’t think of anywhere quite as terrible as America.

It had always been terrible, a self-satisfied oligarch sitting atop a mountain of plundered wealth, competing with itself to pat itself on the back harder and more enthusiastically than the other half of itself—but it had only gotten worse lately. The ouroboros of self-fellatio. His work as a fixer took him on a constant globetrot of the most war-torn shit-holes on earth, but Diego would rather be under fire in Albania than in line at a Starbucks any day.

Needless to say, Diego wasn’t in a great mood before arriving in LAX where he had his luggage searched for the first time in eighteen international landings in ten different countries. Then, he was picked up by the most obnoxious Angelino, Chavo Gutierrez, who insisted on being called Chewy and actually drove a low rider. An honest to God, hydraulics installed low rider.

Diego didn’t even want to believe that Mexicans like Chewy actually existed in real life, he’d always thought that they were a construct of racial stereotypes piled up on top of each other, like Uncle Tom’s Cabin or a Charlie Hedbo cartoon.

Chewy was real as anything though, and a little too eager to make an impression on Diego. Trying too hard. Fortunately, Diego was able to convince Chewy to go directly to the house of his first lead. The accountant responsible for the laundering and funneling of the Lopez Cartel’s Southern California operations. Neither Diego nor the Cartel thought that this little worm had the balls to steal from them, but he was so involved with the numbers it was hard to imagine that he’d missed this. His fastidiousness was his only real virtue as far as anyone could tell.

No, Paul Anderson wasn’t a serious suspect in the theft of the Cartel’s money, but it was his responsibility to know where that money was—or went as the case seemed to be. The sums had been small, but it had apparently been going on long enough to amount to enough that the Lopez’s recalled him from a subcontract job in Dublin.

When Chewy’s monstrosity of a vehicle pulled into the cul du sac where the Anderson home was listed in Diego’s notes, he was glad to see that there was a party going on, it gave him an excuse to walk right in, the guests prevented Paul from fleeing or doing anything rash. A good way to ask some questions and have them answered. Diego might not even have to unpack his bag in this godawful shithole country.

“I don’t have a piece…” Diego sighed, impatient that a gun hadn’t been waiting when Chewy picked him up, his accent pronounced, even though his English was clearly polished, “do you have one I could use?”

“Glovebox,” Chewy answered, reaching over to pop open the door inset into the woodgrain dashboard where a Beretta 9mm dropped practically into Diego’s lap, “silencer’s in there too. Just like you asked.”

Chewy was beaming like a dog at dinner time.

“That’s one thing in a row done right,” Diego remarked as he got out of the car pointedly, “park around the block and stay with the car.”

“What? But I wanna go to the party! Looks like they’ve got Modelos in there.”

“You’re driving, cabron!”

“One or two is fine, though.”

Diego just slammed the door behind himself, tucking the silenced nine into the back of his tailored slacks. He tucked his coat over the grip of the pistol walking toward the house. He stopped for a moment to draw a sickle in chalk on the curb, a symbol that meant someone was marked in the eyes of Santa Muerte. He wasn’t really sure what to expect, but it seemed like a pretty tame, grown up, boring pool party. The first person Diego even saw in the house was Paul.

“Well, that’s convenient. Paul Anderson, you look just like your photo. I’ve got some questions I’d like to ask you about your business,” Diego was a big fan of the direct approach, especially when it might mean the difference between a brief stop in the United States versus a prolonged stay, “it would be in your best interest to be forthcoming.”

Just then, the sliding door from the back yard slid open and Diego’s hand instinctively moved to the pistol grip at the small of his back, though he didn't draw it.

 

[Curious_Muse]

So far the party had not been as tedious as Paul had feared. After a few beers, he felt more relaxed and, with the help of his gracious wife, managed to play the welcoming host. His earlier worries about the money vanishing from his employers’ accounts were a bit less sharp. He even laughed at the stale jokes of how he looked good for his age, and oh, how it was easy for an accountant to doctor the numbers. With the exception of maybe two or three people here, nobody knew just how good he was at it, and for whom he usually doctored.

Paul was glad to see that Olivia seemed to have a good time. He knew about the party at Emily’s house and was grateful that Kate had been the one to tell their daughter that would have to skip it for his birthday BBQ. Paul didn’t particularly like the idea of his darling daughter being exposed to alcohol and horny teenage boys at a party, especially not if said party would involve drugs.

He did not see any hypocrisy in that. Paul had recently read that most Silicon Valley tycoons kept their children off gadgets and the internet as much as possible, because they knew how dangerous both were to their mental health. Why should he feel any different about the stuff his employers were selling?

Looking at Olivia in his slightly inebriated state, he felt a pang of sentimentality. Hard to believe that his baby girl was almost out of high school and would be going to college next year. She looked so beautiful in her summer dress. Paul watched her laughing, and chatting with the guests around her. Clearly – and luckily – she had inherited her mother’s social graces.

He went back into the house to fetch a bowl of marinated steaks, humming a little tune. Kate had been right. They needed to do these things more often.

“Well, that’s convenient. Paul Anderson, you look just like your photo. I’ve got some questions I’d like to ask about your business. It would be in your best interest to be forthcoming.”

The beers had made him slightly tipsy – Paul rarely drank – and he blinked at the man in front of him. He had no idea who he was and felt slightly embarrassed for it.

“My…business? Uhm…well, the avocado deliveries have been disrupted by bad weather, but we hope that we can catch up on our losses,” he intonated stupidly, caught entirely off-guard by the unknown guest. It was the sort of line he would give any mildly interested outsider who wanted to know how things were going at work. The sort of smart talk Paul Anderson hated and was terrible at.

“It is so lovely for you to come to our party, Mr…uhm…can I get you anything?” He struggled to remember if he was in fact supposed to know who this man was and wondered what level of deference was required. Kate was so much better at this.

Then the penny dropped.

Paul felt all blood drain from his face and his throat became so dry that he only managed an apologetic squeak to signal that he had understood. The bowl in his hand suddenly seemed very slippery. “Lopez knows I would never…I can explain…,” he started meekly when the sliding door to the garden was opened.

He noticed the man’s hand move behind his back and gasped in comprehension. “Please,” he whispered hoarsely. There were about fifty guests in the garden, there were Kate and Olivia. “Not here.”

The sliding door opened completely and Olivia slipped through. “Dad, where are the steaks? We are starving!” Paul started sweating, silently imploring the cartel guest not to involve, or worse, hurt his family. For a split-second, he even considered throwing the big porcelain bowl at the man to save his daughter and make a run for it. But the accountant in him knew better than to rebel against impossible odds.

“For God’s sake Olivia, we are talking, I will be right there.” His voice sounded sharper than he had intended and Paul realized that this was a strange thing to say in reply to her inquiry about the steaks. He hoped that Olivia would leave, hoped it so much that it felt like he could will her back into the garden.

No such luck.

“Okay, okay. Fine!” Olivia walked barefoot across the room and made for the fridge in the kitchen to get a few more beers. Why was her dad such a fucking weirdo? She wondered who the other man was. Judging from her dad’s obvious discomfort, he must be a superior from the fruit company who had dropped in on his party unannounced. She rolled her eyes. Her dad was not only socially awkward, but also completely unable to relax in the face of authority. The kind of guy who treated even a traffic cop with dog-like obedience, hoping to please. Olivia thought this was a ridiculous, and somewhat offensive, thing to do for a middle-class white man who never ever broke any rules.

She glanced over her shoulder while grabbing a few bottles from the open fridge. Why could he not just be happy that people in his office cared enough to show up at a suburban BBQ party? Olivia decided to save her stammering parent from this situation before it would get even more uncomfortable.

“Hi, I am Olivia, the daughter,” she beamed, holding out her free hand to her dad’s interlocutor. And damn, the mysterious boss-man was good-looking. He definitely made this joke of a party more instagrammable. She would sneak a few appropriately hashtagged pics of him. Emily would be impressed. They had been exchanging pics of their respective Saturday nights, and so far, Emily was winning by a long shot.

Then she peeked into the bowl with the marinating steaks her father was awkwardly holding and laughed. “Can I get you anything else? Maybe something less…raw and bloody?” She lifted her other hand, the one holding an iced bucket filled with bottles, suggestively. “A beer maybe?”

 

[LitShark]

Diego pressed his lips together in genuine displeasure at being mistaken for some middling company shill. He was quite accustomed to working in South America where his reputation would precede him anywhere he went and the very idea of his displeasure was enough to make people heap respect and tributes on him before he even got a chance to ask, for the most part. But this was North America—the United States, where everyone believed they were the real VIP, even without reason. His Armani dress shirt and Hermes belt obviously weren’t enough of a hint.

“Paul…” Diego began, only to be interrupted by Paul’s tardy realization of who he was—or at least, why he was there, “just stop, Paul. Relax. I haven’t even threatened you yet…”

When the door opened, it was instinctive that Diego reached for his weapon, but had no need to draw it when he saw the fertile, young beauty that entered the kitchen. Paul’s daughter, Olivia, Diego surmised. Shame that the cartel hadn’t shown him a picture of her before he grudgingly accepted this assignment. It suddenly seemed like a much more interesting prospect, milking Paul and his family for information on the theft of cartel funds. He could think of several ways he would like to milk Olivia already.

She introduced herself like the considerate, engaging angel that she looked like while Diego was imagining what she’d look like with his cum splattered across her face, from hairline to chin. He wanted nothing more than to blast a hot load into her breathtaking, aqua-colored eyes.

“The daughter, what a singular honor it is to meet you, Olivia. Lucky thing that you’re the daughter, since more than one of you might drive your father mad with worry—as it is, I bet you have him wrapped around your little finger already,” Diego answered, taking her offered hand and gently kissing the back of her wrist, his heavy Latin accent sounded unmistakably seductive when he spoke to her, not like broken English at all, “my name is Diego, and I work for your father’s employers. I guess you could say that I’m his boss.”

He lingered there, with his lips just barely touching the back of her hand, breathing in her perfume and letting his warm breath brush over the tiny, blonde, almost invisible little hairs on her arm. She was a rare beauty indeed. Diego was becoming acutely aware of how long it had been since he’d fucked someone.

“Sometimes raw and bloody is what a situation calls for,” Diego smirked in reply to Olivia’s playful offer, accepting the offered drink as he cast a threatening glance over to Paul, “but you’re right, this was exactly what I needed.”

Using the inside edge of one of his rings, Diego popped the top off the beer without any difficulty, letting the cap clatter onto the tile floor. He took a long sip, his eyes still locked with Olivia’s and unmistakable intention clearly being broadcast from his brown eyes.

“Your father’s already boring me with work talk, you seem like much more fun, Olivia,” Diego grinned, taking the bucket of beers from Olivia and draping his other arm across her shoulders, still holding his own beer in that hand, “why don’t you give me the tour, introduce me around. I’m sure your father can find his way to the grill on his own.”

With his arm draped around Olivia’s shoulders and the smell of his French cologne doubtless in her nose, Diego led Olivia back to the back yard.

 

[Curious_Muse]

Wow, boss-man came on strong, Oliva thought, but he was damn good at it. “You’re very kind,” she said with a smile. “And a flatterer.” The combination of his touch, his intense eyes, and his accent was, quite literally, breathtaking. Until now, Olivia had thought that “weak knees” had been only a figure of speech, but it turned out that she had been wrong. “It must be a pleasure to work for you,” she said, holding his gaze.

Paul watched their exchange, the color of his face changing from very pale to an agitated blush when Diego introduced himself to Olivia with such obvious predatory intention. His fingers were wrapped so tightly around the bowl that his knuckles turned white with the effort to remain calm. That son of a bitch! “Look, sweetheart, we have things to discuss,” he tried lamely, but neither of them paid him any heed. He winced when Diego put his arm possessively around Olivia’s slender shoulders, aware that his daughter enjoyed the flirty attention a lot.

“Olivia, darling, really…,” he stammered, searching for ways to warn her of the danger she was in without coming across as uncooperative. Naked fear and the agitation of a scandalized and protective father did a complicated dance across his features.

“Don’t worry dad,” Olivia interrupted him over her shoulder as Diego led her towards the back door, smiling. “I will try and not get you fired.”

When they had vanished into the garden, Paul was left standing in the spacious kitchen clutching the bowl. He stared at the steaks. “Raw and bloody, eh?” he mumbled, trembling. The cartel man had left no doubts, zero, about the possible outcome of his visit. Paul knew that he needed to come up with a way to fix this, and fast. Don’t lose your nerve, he told himself. It will be alright. Taking a deep breath, trying to arrange his face in order not to draw any suspicion from Kate or any of his guests, he followed Diego and Olivia into the backyard.

The party guests stood scattered across the carefully landscaped garden. Many of the small trees and bushes in full bloom – Kate insisted that the head accountant of a fruit import company had to have decent array of lemon, orange, and pomegranate trees in his backyard, and she had even imported a small number of decorative banana palms from Costa Rica. There was a decently sized, rectangular pool in the middle, and most people stood around its edges, clutching drinks. To one side, there was a bar that was currently manned by one of Paul’s close colleagues, Steve Lennard. There were a few tables covered with bowls of salads and (of course, healthy) snacks, and a larger buffet was arranged closer to the kitchen entrance.

Olivia decided that she liked Diego. He was hot, and not boring at all. And he smelled fucking amazing.

“So, you’re in the banana and avocado business as well then,” Olivia asked him conversationally as they made their way across the lawn towards a group of women in their late thirties and early forties. She smirked. “Because if you are, maybe you can give me a few pointers of how to talk to these people. I have run out of all the kind things to say about exotic fruit I could think of.”

Her mother stood next to a couple of other women, dressed in an expensive-looking silk blouse, a pencil skirt and heeled sandals. She looked at Diego, raising her eyebrows.

“Mom, this is Diego,” Olivia said matter-of-factly. “Dad’s…boss.”

Kate Anderson did recognize custom couture when she saw it, and smiled appreciatively. “I am very pleased to meet you, Diego” she said, holding out her hand. “I am Kate, Paul’s wife. I am surprised Paul never mentioned you before.”

The woman next to her mother appraised Diego with what Olivia thought was too hungry interest. “I am not surprised at all,” she said sarcastically, taking another sip of her wine, while letting her gaze slowly travel from the tip of his expensive leather shows back to his face. Then she held out her free hand. “I am Amy Lennard, my husband works in your company as well,” she said hoarsely, adding, with a theatrical bow of her head. “Mucho gusto.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. These women scared her. They were wealthy, educated, and, for the most part, pretty attractive for their age, either by nature or by design-by-surgery. But why did they seem so bored? Emily and she had sworn to each other that they would rather go out Thelma-and-Louise-style before ending up like that, depressed and bored and probably banging the personal trainer.

Her phone chimed in the pocket of her dress and she took it out to have a quick look. Another message from Emily, again with a picture. “Shit…,” she whispered. Was that Zoe Thompson, her track team captain? Olivia stared at the picture. It was. Zoe was wearing only her bikini bottoms, and was pouring what looked like Champaign over her gorgeous bare breasts. The message read: “Going full bacchanal tonight. Wish you were here, babe.” Followed by an emoji blowing a kiss. Goddamn Emily, Olivia thought. How was she supposed to get through this evening knowing that she was missing out on a party like that?

Then she realized that Diego was still standing next to her, and she quickly turned off the screen, hoping that he had not seen picture.

“Diego?” The voice carried from across the lawn before the man it belonged could catch up with it, coming towards them in a hurry. “Diego Torres?” It was Steve, the guy who had stood behind the bar, and Amy’s husband. He beamed at them, holding out his hand. “What a surprise!” He gave Diego a toothy, somewhat nervously enthusiastic smile. “What an honor!” Olivia was relieved to see that her dad was not the biggest ass kisser here tonight.

“We have not met in person, but I am Steve, a close associate of Paul. I have heard so much about you! What brings you north of the border?”

 

[LitShark]

Olivia seemed to be truly and predictably smitten with Diego—at least in that, playful, almost innocent eighteen-year-old kind of way. In a different time and place, Diego might have felt some of those innocent, cutesy feelings for her, too. And why not, the girl was a rare kind of beautiful that almost no one was, educated and clearly ready to be rid of this mundane, upper-middle class, suburban nightmare. A good girl, ready to go bad—Diego’s type, if he had one.

Sipping his beer, Diego had to remind himself that he was here for business, not pleasure—but nonetheless, he was already scouting several moves in advance for how he could blend business and pleasure on this job. Perhaps his chosen strategy was a little harsh on Paul, but he’d done little to impress on Diego that he deserved mercy. He seemed genuinely ignorant of where the money had gone, but he’d known that it was gone for years now. By Diego’s standards, that was enough to lose his family, if not worse.

“Oh, don’t mistake me for one of them, por favor,” Diego quietly joked with Olivia as they approached the other friends of Paul’s, “I’m more like a consultant. When businesses are in trouble, the top bosses hire me to come in and figure out what’s wrong. More like a boss for hire than a fruit seller.”

Diego smiled cordially as Olivia introduced him to her mother, such a big step for their budding relationship already. He took Kate’s slender hand in his own, disentangling Olivia from his other arm as he bent down to kiss the back of her wrist, eyes scanning over the silhouette of her well-tined body behind that skin-tight dress. Yes, he was going to take pleasure in this business with the Anderson’s.

“As I was just telling your daughter, I’m not exactly with the same company, more like a crisis consultant that Paul’s bosses’ bosses call in when there’s a problem with the business. I don’t suppose he’s mentioned anything about that, either. The trouble he’s having at work?”

Diego was imagining how big his cock would look between Kate’s slender fingers.

While Diego was still trying to decide if he wanted his plan to include fucking Amy Lennard’s brains out, he was interrupted by one of Paul’s male friends, apparently from the same department and someone who at least knew Diego by reputation. Having a reputation was both a blessing and a curse, in this line of business.

In spite of Steve’s claim to know who Diego was, he certainly showed no signs of knowing why he was there. Managing to put his foot in his mouth within the first fifty words he shared with Diego. The border like there was only one—like his ethnicity determined his direction of travel.

“Actually, I flew in from Holland. East to west,” Diego corrected Steve’s assumption after releasing his wife’s hand, when he shook Steve’s hand he squeezed with his full strength, making his knuckles touch each other as his hand folded like an envelope, “and if you know me, you ought to be at least a little concerned to see me, north of the border.”

Steve’s knee buckled faintly as his brain tried to catch up, processing the intense rush of pain in his hand while maintaining the façade of civility in front of the wives and daughter.

“I—uh, oh God…” Steve held his arm up by the forearm with his other hand, “I didn’t realize you were here for… business, I guess…”

“I’m afraid so, Steve. Looks like heads are going to roll come Monday,” Diego glanced back to Olivia and flashed her a reassuring wink, like it had all been a game to make them lay down for him, which they were, each in their own way, “Kate, do you think you could show me to the food, I’d like to talk to you about your husband, just briefly.”

Diego offered his arm while Steve buried his hand into one of the nearby ice chests, but just held it there, sighing.

 

[Curious_Muse]

Kate laughed nervously, taken completely off-guard by Diego’s comment. “Trouble at work? My…no, it must have slipped his mind.” She had the harassed look of a wife who was both annoyed and unsurprised that her husband had left her to deal with an embarrassing situation, again. This was just like Paul. Leaving his stack of fuck-ups to pile up until they landed all in her lap. Outdoing himself this time, they had landed in her lap in front of Amy fucking Lennard, probably the most judgmental, stuck-up bitch south of L.A. This was just perfect.

Trying to regain her composure in front of her guests, she added: “But Paul doesn’t like to involve his family in anything concerning his professional life. He’s a bit old-fashioned that way.” Kate took the arm Diego offered, now her gracious host-self again. “Let’s go and get a bite to eat while you tell me all about it. I certainly hope that Paul will get to keep his…head.”

She steered him away from the others and towards the house, desperate for some privacy. What could Paul possibly have done that merited an intervention from his company’s crisis consultant on a Saturday night?

***

“You know that guy?”

Paul, who had watched the entire interaction from behind the BBQ a few yards away, pulled Steve to the side.

“Yeah, I mean…I have heard about him. Saw him once at a meeting with Lopez up in New York.”

“Do you know why he’s here?” Paul tried to sound casual, but, watching Kate walking off with Diego in the direction of the house, he didn’t come across as very convincing.

“Tie up some loose ends, I suppose? He’s a sort of…fixer, as far as I know.”

“What loose ends are there that need to be fixed?” His voice sounded sharper than he had intended. The thing was that Paul had never told Steve about the missing money. He was not really sure why he hadn’t, other than for the same reason he had not told the Mexicans: Paul had been sure that the matter was in fact trivial and could easily be resolved. He was responsible for the accounts, not Steve, and it had piqued his pride to go to his associate for advice. He wanted to tell him now, but there were too many ears all around.

Steve, cradling his aching, dripping fingers with his other hand, exchanged a quick, meaningful look with his wife, who stood close by, before shrugging his shoulders. Paul knew that Amy was in on the firm’s real work, because her husband had the irritating habit of telling her everything. Did she know anything?

“Don’t worry, old man, we will set this straight. Why don’t you enjoy your birthday party? ”

“For fuck’s sake, Steve!” His associate had always been maddeningly cocksure, probably due some inert feeling of entitlement that he, Paul, was sadly lacking. “And by the way, try not to piss him off again. Please? When he comes back, we all need to sit down for a talk, and when we do zip it with such dumb comments as earlier.”

Steve chuckled, as if remembering a particularly hilarious inside joke.

“I have no idea what’s so fucking funny! Did you hear the part where he mentioned rolling heads?” Paul hated that, when he was agitated, his voice skipped an octave, making him squeal. But why on earth was he the only one panicking? “I am pretty sure that his fixing work involves the professional disposal of body parts!” He could feel that he was on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

“There are a lot of bodies to dismember in this garden,” his colleague said with a jovial pat on Paul’s back. “We'll handle it, whatever it is. Business has been good, more than good, I'd say. Lopez should be sending gifts, not 'consultants'. Relax, man, it’ll all be fine.”

Paul felt a sudden pang of suspicion. What if…no, that was insane. But in the state of panic he was in, paranoia was one way to focus his thoughts. In his mind he raced through the figures, the accounts, the channels of transaction he had checked over and over again in the last months. He had never, not once, not for a second, thought that his long-standing associate might be the one who was stealing from Lopez, and had thus never looked at the evidence from that perspective. Could that be the reason that he had not yet found any trace whatsoever of the sticky-fingered thief? What if it was Steve who was skimming?

Something in his tone was definitely off. Had Steve noticed that money was missing and approached Lopez without letting him know? Or, worse still, was he in on the joke and also thought that he, Paul, had something to do with the theft?

Paul looked around. To his relief, Olivia was sitting in a chair by the pool again, concentrating on the mobile phone in her hand. Kate, however, was nowhere to be seen.

***

OMG. You obviously have to fuck him. He’s perfect.

Olivia had sent the picture of Diego she had taken on the sly to her best friend, captioned “Finally some birthday eye candy for me. : D”

She snorted at Emily’s line, quickly typing a reply.

Are you crazy? He’s sort of my dad’s boss! : O

That’s so hot. Girl, that’s how every virgin should go out.

You’re such a pervert.

You bet. People *pay* to see shit like that. I would.

Olivia giggled, shaking her head. Did Emily’s parents have any idea what a disturbed little brat they had raised?

Anyway, looks like he’s only here because my dad fucked up at work.

Damn. Must be serious if Hot Boss crashes his b-day for that.
Maybe there’s something you can do to make things right again ; ).

Whatever. : ))

Gotta go, babe, that loser Dan just puked into mom’s Soetsu vase. Keep me posted. xx

 

[LitShark]

“I wish it was the type of trouble that he could keep the family out of,” Diego sighed, feigning genuine remorse, “but you see, if I’m involved, you and your family already are involved.”

Keeping Kate’s arm securely, but politely cradled in his own, he slid the sliding-glass door open that led into the spacious living room and bar area, where they could climb the stairs to the bedrooms without crossing the kitchen where others might be. A discreet exit from the party without hinting at anything of a crisis. Diego closed the door after her and led her toward the stairs, he’d studied the blueprints of her house for weeks already and probably knew the intimate details better even than the lady of the house. How many homeowners keep track of how many power outlets are in their home—home invaders need to know that information in an instant.

“I’m afraid that your husband has been keeping some dark secrets from you about his work and now… well now I’m afraid that some very bad people are looking at him to explain where a lot of money has gone… and if he can’t…” Diego turned at the landing, with the foyer to his back, looking up the stairs, “well… he needs to find it, that’s all. Anything else is too awful…”

Diego gently wrapped his hand reassuringly around Kate’s hand where it lay across his forearm, he was certain that she was understanding what he was implying, but he didn’t want to really scare her, just make her think that it fell to her, that her husband’s incompetence was now her duty to cover for, he had a hunch that their relationship consisted of a lot of that. He had to be bad cop and good cop. I’m here to hurt you, but only I can help you.

“I am paid as much as I am because I am an excellent judge of character, and I’ve never been more certain of anything than I am that your husband didn’t steal any money. I know that he didn’t do it—but his bosses, they expect me to report back to them tonight, they expect that someone is going to get hurt. He needs more time to find the real thief, but someone has to pay now… do you understand what I’m driving at?”

By now, they were in the master bedroom and Diego kicked shut the door behind them. He locked it next. Then, just in case he was still being too subtle, he pulled out his silenced Beretta from the back of his slacks.

“Your daughter, Olivia, she’s a lovely young woman. Makes for great collateral, being so full of adventure. But she’s innocent, not built for discreet arrangements. Your husband deserves it, at best he’s been hiding the missing money for some time, but if I hurt him, he’s less able to find the real thief—it’s a downward spiral from there, I promise. Which just leaves you, and you seem like a smart woman, one who appreciates discretion. If you could make me comfortable here, at his birthday party, his bosses might be satisfied long enough for him to find the real culprit and your family could go back to happily ever after. Only you and I really need to know how you bought him more time…”

Diego smiled, she understood.

He didn’t wait for affirmative consent, she didn’t flee, she was giving herself to him and he was seizing the opportunity. They hadn’t really even made a deal. One hand was gripping her firm, Pilates ass through her tight skirt while his other hand wrapped slowly around her statuesque, slender neck. He kissed her possessively, his tongue seeking hers expectantly, pulling her lower half against him so that she could feel his hard nine inches of uncut cock against her while he kissed her in her husband’s bedroom.

 

[Curious_Muse]

Paul paced around the garden, looking for his wife. Would that bastard dare to lay a finger on her here, where there were dozens of witnesses? Would he hurt her?

But of course he knew the answer to that. The cartel would go for his family first. He was the guy who could provide the answers they were looking for, and all they needed to do was to speed up the process with some old-fashioned mob motivation tactics. Diego targeted his wife, and not him, Paul, for that reason only. His eyes fell on Olivia, and fear gripped his heart with ice-cold fingers. He needed to protect her.

Walking over to his daughter, trying to look as casual as possible, he put a hand on her shoulder to draw her gaze away from the screen of her phone.

“Darling, I know you really wanted to go to that party tonight, right?”

Olivia squinted at him suspiciously, wondering if this was going to be a test of some sort.

“Yeah…?” she said slowly, lowering her phone into her lap.

“Well, why don’t you go? I think this BBQ must be a pretty boring affair for you.”

“Dad…are you drunk or something?”

Paul managed a pained grin and shook his head.

“No, not yet. I appreciate that you stayed here for my birthday. Go on, if you like, take the car, and stay over at Emily’s. That way I don’t have to worry about you drinking and driving.”

Olivia jumped up from her seat and hugged her dad, screeching with joy. “Wow, really? You mean it?”

Paul felt oddly emotional. “Yes, I mean it.” He hugged her tightly. “I love you, baby girl, you know that, right?”

She scoffed, and laughed. “Yeah, I love you, too, daddy. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much!” Then she stopped, and looked at him quizzingly. “And mom? Do I need to convince her first?”

Paul shook his head, afraid that his grin might slide off into a panicked grimace. “No, don’t worry. I’ll handle her. Have some fun tonight!”

***

(The following is a collaboration between LitShark and me. Enjoy!)

Kate, somewhat confused and slightly tipsy from the three glasses of Chardonnay she had enjoyed, tried to wrap her head around what her husband’s consultant manager – had that been the title he had used? – told her.

“I don’t understand…,” she muttered as he led her confidently through her own house as if he had lived there for years. “What do you mean by ‘dark secrets’? And what ‘very bad people’ are you talking about?” Kate laughed nervously, wondering if this was all an elaborate practical joke that Paul had come up with. “I know that there have been problems with the avocado deliveries due to the draught, but surely it cannot be that bad?”

She had difficulties following him. Money? Stolen money? She knew that the work at the fruit import company could be stressful, and that sometimes things did not go to plan, but Paul had never mentioned anything criminal going on. But still Kate followed him upstairs, politely nodding and sighing at what Diego told her, even none of it made any sense. And was he…was he threatening her?

Once in the master bedroom – how did he know? – he shut the door behind them, and pulled out a gun. Kate felt cold panic rise in her throat. What did this man want? Who was he? And what on earth did Paul get involved in? What terrible secrets had he been keeping from her? When Diego casually dropped Olivia’s name, she pleadingly shook her head. “Please not my daughter,” she whispered hoarsely, unable to comprehend what exactly it was that he asked of her.

But of course she did. Make him feel comfortable? She threw hectic glances toward the door, the open windows. “Look, doesn’t this go too far? I don’t even know who you work …”

Before she could finish her sentence and before she understood what was happening he pulled her towards him. She could feel his hard cock press against her body. Kate gasped. “Please…,” she croaked, unconvincingly. “I have no idea what Paul did, and what it is that you are after.” God, he smelled good. He felt good, too. She felt the cold metal of the gun that he was still holding against the skin of her neck and shivered. When he pulled her into a hungry, almost violent kiss, all she could do was to kiss him back, slackening in his grip, signaling surrender.

Diego felt no need to answer any of Kate’s questions, everything was going to become clear to her very soon. It didn’t take much force to make her compliant, almost like she was inwardly hoping that something like this would happen to her—perhaps she’d taken the money, specifically so that someone like him would show up and fuck her proper—give her the thrill that her marriage was lacking.

Kate was certainly a beautiful woman, she could have married a better man than Paul, surely. Perhaps it was about the money. Diego didn’t care to diagnose her marriage. It wouldn’t be long before they were missed at the party and he had a list of things that he wanted to do with Kate, in order to buy her dipshit husband another day to find the missing money.

The gun was quickly becoming a hindrance to Diego’s greedy, possessive caressing of Kate’s body, so he broke away from the kiss, just long enough to dislodge the magazine and pull back the slide, ejecting the chambered round into the air where it flipped several times before striking Kate’s chest gently and bouncing down to the floor.

She flinched when the metal bullet bounced off her chest and tumbled softly to the floor, following the small metal object with wide, frightened eyes, before looking at him again, not quite able to believe that this was really happening. “W…what?” she gasped. “But…” She was panicking now, her legs were like jelly, threatening to give out. “Please don’t do this,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears, leaving her cheeks smeared with black streaks of mascara.

“If you fight me, the next one will be coming much faster,” Diego sneered, not really needing to threaten her, but wanting to keep her afraid—he liked her afraid, “now beg me to fuck you, and don’t stop begging until I’m inside you.”

Diego pocketed the magazine and tossed the empty gun aside, freeing up his hands to grasp the collar of Kate’s blouse and loudly tear it open, sending small, pearl buttons scattering into the carpet and several scraps of torn fabric dangling against her slender stomach.

She squealed in shock when he tore her blouse with a loud tear, instinctively trying to cover herself with her hands. “Oh God, please…I am married,” she stammered unnecessarily, as he bodily shoved her into the low dresser standing behind her, bruising the back of her thighs. “I have no idea about any money, but we have savings…” Her voice trailed off and she winced in pain when he roughly squeezed her tits, her heart beating frantically. He was all over her, his mouth greedily trailing her neckline, her collarbone, and it hurt.

It also made her pussy throb in need.

“Beg!”

He grabbed her chest, not tenderly or at all like a lover, he grabbed her like an offensive lineman in a football game. He squeezed her tits through her bra ferociously, shoving her back into the low dresser and toppling a lamp as her back collided with the plasma television mounted behind her. His teeth on her neck weren’t gentle either, he had no intention of leaving her body unmarked. He didn’t much care what she told her husband, truth or a lie, but Diego wanted her visibly marked as his. His powerful jaw sucked hard on the bitten spot, one hand reaching back to unclasp her bra.

“Stop…,” she gasped, sobbing softly, unwilling to say the words he wanted her to say, but too terrified not to. What choice did she have? Kate’s breath came in short, hectic intervals, betraying her fear. “Please….f…fuck me,” she whispered with a trembling voice, barely audibly, her head turned to the side so as not to have to look him in the eyes when she said it.

Diego decided that the word “stop” was one protest too many from Kate, it was starting to feel like he was raping her or something equally crude—when in fact, he was doing her an immense favor. So far, he thought that he might have more fun sliding razor blades under Paul’s fingernails than he was with Kate. By way of punishment for uttering one protest too many, Diego pinched Kate’s firm nipple roughly between his thumb and index knuckle, his muscular hand squeezing it almost flat.

When she obeyed, howsoever hesitantly, Diego released her from the agonizing grip, relaxing his rough hand into a gentle caress, now circling the exposed nub with the same thumb, stimulating it as the blood rushed back into the strangled tent of flesh.

Kate cried out sharply when he violently squeezed her nipple, driving her up on her tiptoes in an attempt to get away. There were more tears, and a few suppressed sobs when he released his grip into a softer caress. “Please,” she whispered, sniffling, unsure what exactly she was begging for. From outside, the soft murmur and laughter of the party drifted up to them. Her thoughts drifted to Olivia, whom he had mentioned so casually earlier. “Yes, you are right,” she whispered hoarsely, her fear choking her. “Please fuck me,” she added, this time with more conviction, attempting a grimacing smile. “I’ll be good now, I promise.”

“That’s better,” Diego smirked, roughly hiking her tight skirt up her hips, ripping the seam loudly and breaking the zipper, “don’t make me regret my decision to take it easy on you. Things can get a lot worse for you and your sweet little suburban family. Come on. I won’t tell him that you liked it, that you’ve been thinking about it since you laid eyes on me…”

She was sure that he meant it, that this, raping her in the bedroom of her own house with her husband only yards away in the garden, was Diego’s idea of “taking it easy on her”, that he was capable, and had done, much worse to people he was tasked to motivate to do better. What did Paul do? How did he fuck up? Had he stolen from his company? And what the hell did he do at his job? It sure had nothing to do with avocados. What on earth did her boring, usually so law-abiding, stickler-husband do in order to provoke his bosses to send Diego to their home with orders to hurt them?

More ripping, this time Diego tore Kate’s panties away from her body. He pocketed them, an offering for the tree of woe when he went back across the border. He then unbuckled his Armani belt and dropped his slacks to the floor. He was wearing no underwear and his uncircumcised cock was already standing up at its full length. He wasted no time driving it into her, still caressing and teasing her breast with his other hand.

Once he was inside, Diego grabbed Kate’s hair at the base of her skull, roughly adjusting her head so that her expressive, brown eyes were looking straight into his. He pumped his hips one good time, hard—driving the air from her audibly.

“No preocupes—don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone that you liked it.”

She flinched, but bit her lips not to scream again when he roughly tore her silk panties from her, easily tearing the delicate fabric. Her mouth fell open with a rough gasp as he drove his full length into her weeping pussy without any further preliminaries, forcing her roughly back against the dresser, almost suspended on his throbbing cock. Kate tried to steady herself against the wooden piece of furniture with one hand, while holding on to his arm with her other. His cock, and the forceful way he handled it, was more than she was used to from her rather prim husband, and Kate’s eyes widened as he buried himself in her to the hilt.

It hurt, in fact she felt like she was going to split open on his cock, and, with a whimper, she wiggled her hips instinctively, trying to adjust to the size and the feeling of being filled so completely. Her head fell forward against his chest before his fingers, grabbing a handful of her dark hair, pulled her back to force her to look into his eyes. The mocking glint, and the hunger she saw there made her shudder, but it also sent electrical shocks of pleasure through her. Rivulets of her arousal rolled down on the inside of her thighs, and Kate was both aware and ashamed that Diego would know, that he already knew, that part of her wanted to be fucked by a stranger, that part of her wanted to be used the way he did.

One foot still on tiptoes, in her heeled sandals she wrapped the other around him, bending back against the dresser, her neck twisted painfully in his grip. As he slowly withdrew, Kate winced as if she regretted the sudden emptiness. When he pumped back into her in one forceful stroke, she could not suppress a scream of pleasure mingled with pain. Her eyes locked with his, she suddenly heard Olivia’s voice followed by her laughter in the garden. She thought of his warning that things could get worse for her family if she did not comply with demands. Her lips moved in a silent plea as she looked at him. “Yes, I have wanted this, I have wanted you,” she croaked with the poise of a bad porn actress. “And I like it.”

“Yes, yes,” Diego grunted as his hips began pumping with renewed determination and vigor, “this is more like it, this is how you can buy more time for him, I can tell he’s barely been touching this tight little pussy, it’s hard to believe you had a child through here—your husband must be hung like a button on a coat.”

Kate flushed at his taunts. He had no way of knowing this, but she had been frustrated of late, with her marriage in general, but with her sex life in particular. Women were always told that it was them who were the ones with the low libido, that it was them who had to be begged for sex by their male partners, who, in turn, always wanted to fuck, no matter when and where. In her marriage with Paul, it was the other way around. He was always too busy, too tired, or not in the mood for other reasons, and if they did have sex it was usually pretty straightforward, over quickly, and not satisfying for her.

And maybe, just maybe, he did deserve that his bosses sent a guy to fuck her at his own birthday party.

Diego’s hand in her hair relaxed to cradle the back of her neck now, a reward for being good. Her pussy was indeed much tighter than he’d expected from a mother and her juices were running down both of their bodies now.

“After this, you can go back to the party, say you spilled wine on your blouse and no one will know any better. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, you’re lucky to be getting fucked by someone like me.”

Diego continued to taunt her with his words, before lowering his mouth to her neck and giving her another dark hickey with his lips and teeth, contradicting the story he was telling her even as he told it. He didn’t care, he wanted Paul to know—Paul deserved to know. Even if someone else was the thief, Paul covered for them, willfully or through incompetence was unclear, but either one was worthy of punishment in the eyes of the cartel.

“Come on, talk dirty so I can finish. Call me Papi, cum on my cock—show me that you’ll do anything to protect your family.”

It was astounding how quick she was able to adapt to the role of a willing, cock-hungry whore. Kate thought that she was able to save her family and to enjoy this (even if that was something she would deny later, as it was simply too shameful to admit, even to herself), if she managed to play her role well and stay in character, despite the ice-cold fear that was choking her.

She tilted her head and exposed his neck further to his rough caresses, moaning. “Yes, fuck me, I love your hard cock, this is so good…” Granted, this was a bit lame, in an unimaginative porn script kind of way, but Kate wasn’t used to talking dirty. Paul didn’t like it, and she had been too embarrassed to change his mind. His thrusts shoved her back against the dresser, and the next moan was genuine. “Papi…” she purred. “Nobody fucks me as good as you. Do with me whatever you want.” And it almost sounded like she really meant it. “I am going to cum for you...” she gasped, and to her astonishment, she really could feel her climax approaching. “Oh god, I am going to cum…!”

“No, don’t cum yet, puta. Surrender yourself to me,” Diego was panting, beginning to sweat as he continued to batter Kate’s firm, well-maintained body against the dresser and the wall, “give me everything and I’ll give you exactly what you’ve been missing. But I’m not here for you—you don’t cum without my permission. Not until you’ve brought me satisfaction.”

It was true that Diego was enjoying himself more than he’d anticipated. He typically avoided women of Kate’s age in his love life, preferring instead the shiny, young, 18-20 crowd who made better accessories than partners, but perhaps he would have to reconsider his stance. She wasn’t timid and plaintive like the pretty, young things he usually fucked—experimenting and stumbling like fawns whose legs haven’t developed yet. Kate was different, her body remembered how to move, how to take him enthusiastically without hoping she was doing it right. The same way that throat muscles move instinctively—reflexively when a dehydrated man drinks water, so did Kate’s body receive him. And Diego was enjoying it.

His right hand closed around her slender neck, his fingers almost managing to touch the heel of his palm, her throat was so slender in his grasp. Her face flushed bright red quickly as he choked her, the rattling dresser chipping away at the plaster of the drywall as Diego continued his assault on Kate’s very willing body.

“Now,” Diego grunted, pounding himself balls deep and releasing her throat in the same instant that he gave her permission, “cum for me now, whore. Have the orgasm of your life and thank me for the privilege.”

Diego’s thumb drifted past her thin, but sultry lips, dipping into her mouth lewdly, giving her various opportunities to express her gratitude.

Pinned between his big cock and the dresser, Kate moaned and bucked against him, her nails digging into the skin of his shoulders and back. She held his gaze, her eyes mirroring her disbelief that such wanton pleasure was possible. “I am your whore, your fucktoy, papi,” she gasped hoarsely between his hard thrusts. “Your cock feels so good…,” she breathed, not entirely unbelievably, before her voice trailed off into another lustful pant.

Her moans were cut off abruptly as his fingers closed around her windpipe. Her mouth fell open as she struggled for breath, but the pleasure she felt only grew in intensity. Her eyes fell to half lids, and she started to squirm in his grip, her cunt clamping down on him like a trap as she neared release. His command was all it took. While she was greedily sucking in air, her orgasm ripped through her with such intensity that she was afraid she might black out. “Oh god, OH GOD…!” she moaned, pressing her hand over her mouth in order to muffle her ecstasy. She was shaking, the firm muscles of her pussy were twitching, and she could not keep herself from roughly scratching his back, holding on for dear life as she arched against him, gasping rapidly as she slowly came down from her climax.

His finger slipped into her mouth, and she sucked on it gently and instinctively, her head upturned to meet his gaze. “Thank you for fucking me,” she whispered, the tip of her tongue playfully lapping at the tip of his thumb. “Thank you for making me cum, for making me your puta…” She was shivering, and her slender body slammed into the dresser as he was increasing his pace again.

“I’m going to cum, too. Get ready to catch it on your face, slut. I’m going to need proof of this, not for your husband, but for my employers. Once they know what I’ve done here they’ll allow us a little more time to find the real culprit.”

Diego’s cock bucked and swelled inside of Kate’s weeping pussy, nearing its own climax even as it continued to hammer against her cervix. When he could hold back no more, he grabbed Kate by the hair again and dragged her down to the carpet, aiming his wet cock at her face, gripping the middle tightly to hold his nut back.

Finally, he released his pent-up seed, blasting the thick, off-white semen directly into her left eye, letting it pool in her eye socket, across her lips. The next jet went into her mouth, trailing back over her bottom lip and dripping from her chin. He skeeted across her face over and over until she was glazed from hair to chin. Then, while he was fixing his slacks again, he took his cell phone and snapped a photo, quickly forwarding it to his cartel contact who he knew only as La Voz.

Kate stumbled to the floor, her legs still shaky from her violent orgasm, limp like a ragdoll as he held her up by a fistful of her dark hair. Spurt after spurt of his cum hit her across her face, she tasted the salt on her lips, it burned in her eyes, but she did not dare to wipe it off, or to move at all. She was only vaguely aware of him taking a picture of her, his jizz dripping from her chin down on her naked breasts.

“I’m going to be taking Olivia with me, but since you were a good little whore for me, I won’t lay a finger on her. I’ll be a perfect gentleman,” Diego extracted Kate’s phone from her purse and held it down for her to unlock, “at least until midnight, but you’ll have found the real culprit by then, I’m sure. At midnight, I’m going to call you and you’re going to say one of two things. You say ‘we found them,’ or ‘I’m on my way’. No sorry, no excuses, no begging. Only those words. Then, you’ll either tell me who my real target is, or I’ll tell you where you can meet me to buy some more time… without Olivia having to bare any of the burden. None of this is up for discussion. You should only obey.”

Crouched on the floor, breathing heavily, she blinked at him. “Olivia?” she whispered darkly, while she slowly wiped his cum from her eyes and her lips with the back of her hand. “But why…what…” she began, but stopped speaking as she met his cold gaze that made clear that not only was she in no position to ask any questions, but that they also would lead to nowhere good. The remnants of her blouse hung around her belt, her ruined skirt was still bunched up around her waist, her pussy was still throbbing from the fucking she had just received, and the climax it had caused. The rape, a voice inside her head corrected. The rape that you enjoyed so much, you whore. Kate was keenly and painfully aware of her appearance, of what she had allowed him to do. He owned her now, just as he already owned Paul.

Her eyes brimming with tears again, she nodded. “Yes, we will find them. I promise,” she said softly, sniffling.

Diego dropped Kate’s phone when he was done taking her number and saving himself in her contacts under “Papi.” He finished adjusting his tailored clothes, using the bathroom to make sure he looked as good as ever. Once he felt confident in his appearance again, Diego picked his Beretta back up from where he'd set it aside and slapped the magazine back into place, chambering a round before slipping it back into the waist of his slacks. He checked his hair once more in the mirror and spritzed himself with a pocket cologne flask before leaving Kate alone in the bedroom and going back to the party.

With shaky fingers, Kate reached for her phone. Her fingertips were slick with his cum and slipped on the glass surface, leaving smears. She hectically typed a message to her daughter: “Lock yourself in your room”, and deleted it immediately. “Call the police.” No. Kate tried again, cursing the typos and the phone that refused to react to her wet fingers. “Don’t go with him.” Her finger hovered over the send button. What if he was already with her? If he had access to her phone? What if he saw the message and hurt her daughter in revenge? Kate sobbed quietly, terrified and unable to decide what to do. She finally lowered the mobile. The party noises from the garden drifted up to her. Her eyes wandered to the clock on the bedside table. They had about four hours until midnight.

***

Olivia felt a pang of regret for leaving the BBQ without saying good-bye to Diego. But he was nowhere to be seen, and she was in a hurry to leave before either her mom or her dad – who might very possibly be having second thoughts – would stop her.

She took the car keys from the porcelain bowl in the hall and grabbed a small bag holding a few things she wanted to take to the party, her bikini, some toiletries, and a change of clothes.

“Coming over now,” she texted Emily excitedly, while walking towards the front door. She was so distracted that she flinched when she suddenly felt someone standing close behind her.

Olivia, was of course his first and only target. He moved a little too close, gently touching the small of her back.

“Want to get out of here?”

It was as if the gods of Saturday nights had decided to suddenly bestow all their bounties on her all at once. It was Diego. Again she felt the same rush of electrified excitement at his touch. Dropping her phone in her bag, she looked at him with a playful smile. “I thought you would never ask.”

 

[LitShark]

Diego returned her smile with one of his own, he could see in her clear blue eyes how deeply caught she was, maybe even she didn’t realize yet. He opened the front door for her, the same door he’d walked through an uninvited stranger to all of them less than an hour ago. He’d already begun extracting revenge on the feckless accountant, now his collateral was practically leaping into his arms. Suburbanites are the easiest prey—they’ll dive into a bullet just to have something new happen for them, just for a taste of hope that there are other places than this, other people than these.

Once Olivia was politely escorted out of the door, Diego closed it behind them. He was not particularly surprised, but slightly relieved to see a standard issue, upper-middle-class Mercedes chirp when Olivia touched the remote she carried from the house. But his relief was short-lived as Chewy was walking up the driveway.

“Que Paso, man? You keep me waiting over an hour!” it wasn’t really a question, more of a gentle accusation, though frankly a statement of fact.

“I’m sorry, friend. I lost track of time. You can come with us though, come here—” Diego answered in flowing Spanish, hoping Olivia didn’t notice that her opinion wasn’t measured before inviting this stranger to her party, “pop the trunk a second, then you can follow us, plenty of beer and drunk white girls. It’ll make up for the wait.”

Diego wasn’t afraid of Chewy in the slightest, but the Surreno 13’s were sponsoring him while he was up here and he didn’t want to make enemies of his hosts—even if they had sent an imbecile to be his chauffer. At the ridiculous, pinstriped, low-rider, Diego exchanged his pistol discreetly for his hard briefcase. This was soft work if he’d ever seen it, the cocaine would be more useful than the Beretta at this point.

“Follow the Mercedes, I’ll open a bottle of some real tequila,” Diego clapped Chewy on the back like an old friend before leaving him at his vehicle, it was unclear if Chewy was smart enough to know he’d just been handled or not, “my cousin, you’ll have to excuse him. Would it be alright if he came with us?”

Diego carried the briefcase back with him, meeting Olivia by her car and gently grasping her upper arm, a subtle move to encourage the notion that he cared what her answer was.

“He doesn’t have a lot of friends in the United States yet. He won’t be any trouble,” Diego smiled though the lies.

 

[Curious_Muse]

His cousin? Olivia looked past Diego at the guy still standing in the street, next to a fucking metallic green lowrider, the whole image an almost offensively stereotypical caricature against the subdued hues of upper middle class houses, the manicured lawns and cleanly kept driveways, the moneyed uniformity of suburban taste.

And even if it was true that he was Diego’s cousin – after all, one could not choose family – how likely was it that a professional consultant would take a relative to a house call? The “cousin” looked pissed, slightly confused, and, as she had understood from their exchange, he had been waiting for Diego. Olivia deducted from the fact that Diego did not seem to have his own car and that he had luggage in the lowrider’s trunk that they had come together. Did the fruit company have a wacky sense of humor, an eccentric PR department, or just a comically stingy FCO? None of it made any sense.

“Claro que si, he’s welcome to join” Olivia said, pulling away from him after what seemed like a long pause. “Your cousin”, she stressed the word, clearly suspicious, “does look like he needs a beer.” She walked around to the driver’s door of her Mercedes and looked over the roof at Diego with a raised eyebrow. “It’s a good thing that he doesn’t know the US that well yet. Otherwise he would realize that being made to hang out in the CCTV range of rich white people’s houses is not a very nice thing to do.” Trying to soften the tone after that comment Olivia grinned at him. “I’ve done fucked-up things to family members I don’t like. Guess he’s not your favorite cousin?”

Then she got in the car, waited for him to get in, too, and turned the key in the ignition. It was a twenty minute drive to Emily’s house if she took the coast road. Olivia was nervous. She could not really believe that he sat next to her in the car. It was all a bit unreal – and Olivia could not shake the feeling that something did not quite add up either. He was breathtaking, no question about that, and she thought that he was I fact quite out of her league, but was she safe alone with him in the car? She became keenly aware of how far her dress had ridden up her naked thighs, of how close to her he was, of how vulnerable she suddenly felt.

Olivia pulled out of the driveway and turned into the street. In her rearview mirror, she saw that the lowrider started moving, too.

Trying to hide her giddy anxiety, she asked with a smile: “So…is my dad in a lot of trouble? Do I have to worry about how I’ll pay tuition next year?”

***

Her body still dripping wet from the shower, Kate stared at her blurry reflection in the fogged-up full-length bathroom mirror. Her neck, chest and tits were covered in bruises. The backs of her thighs were, too. Her skin was humming with the fresh memory of what he had done to her, and of what she had become for him. His puta. Her body ached, not only because of the rough fucking that she had received, but the realization that she would let him do this again. When she closed her eyes, she could still feel the tickle of his breath against the skin of her neck, ordering her to cum for him. Her pussy flexed and started throbbing again at the thought.

Her hand slid between her thighs, finding her clit, and she groaned. What kind of twisted freak was she?

Apparently her husband worked for the mob, her daughter Olivia might just have been kidnapped, and she had just been raped in the bedroom of her own house, while dozens of party guests were mingling in the garden. It was time to snap out of it.

She had taken a hurried shower, frantically scrubbing off all evidence of him, almost breathless with fear and despair for Olivia’s safety. Was Diego already gone? Would her useless, lying coward of a husband protect their daughter against him?

She rapidly dried herself off and stuffed the ruined clothes into the hamper. Then she put on new underwear, and skirt and a blouse that were similar enough to the ones she had discarded in order for less attentive onlookers not to recognize the difference. The bruises on her neck would be more difficult to hide. A silk scarf maybe? And did appearances still even matter? Did she still care what the neighbors would think?

Kate reapplied lipstick, but found it difficult to keep her hand steady. Unbidden, the thought of his thumb dipping between her lips, his fingers around her throat crept up on her. The memory of being suspended on his cock, her body being pounded against the dresser, her cunt stuffed with more cock than she had thought possible. His mocking eyes while he forced her to beg him to fuck her….

There was a hesitant, soft knock at the door. Never had her husband’s subdued manner annoyed her more. She opened the door.

“You owe me an explanation,” was the first thing she spat at Paul, while he took in her appearance open-mouthed.

 

[LitShark]

Diego just smiled and reached over, gently laying his palm onto Olivia’s thigh from the passenger’s seat. Her inquiry about her father was more incisive than she seemed to realize, her expression said she didn’t fully comprehend the weight of what she was asking, but Diego decided to answer her anyway.

“I’m almost certain it’s just a big misunderstanding. As long as you can keep me entertained, your dad ought to have plenty of time to straighten things out,” Diego’s hand squeezed her thigh gently, almost reassuringly, but unmistakably sexually, “think you can handle that?”

It was a revelation to Diego that Olivia was bilingual, but he probably shouldn’t have been surprised. The modern, rich, white, liberal was socially conscious enough to recognize that the Spanish speakers had their run of Southern California decades before the first English speakers arrived—though both were foreign invaders. The true language of this land, like so much of the North American battlefield, had been lost and exterminated by genocide. Only the conquerors left behind their language.

“Your Spanish is very good, polished. Did you study it in school?” Diego asked, he’d need to let Chewy know that they needed to avoid casual use of Spanish since these private school white girls might know what they were saying, “most Americans don’t even care to try and learn.”

They seemed to be heading further into the hills, this friend of Olivia’s obviously came from obscene wealth, even compared to Olivia who was quite well-off indeed. They stopped in front of a massive, glass and stone house, its back edge overlooking the whole of LA with a sheer drop below.

“Quite the place your friend has here,” Diego remarked, watching Chewy arrive behind them, “I’ll go warn my cousin to be on his best behavior, then we’ll follow you inside.”

*-*-*

Despite himself, Paul couldn’t stop shaking—there was too much going wrong, all at once, it was getting even harder to maintain the charade of this party. He was having the worst birthday of his whole life. He still didn’t know where this terrifying “Fixer” had gone to, but with Kate and Olivia both unaccounted for, he had to take care of hosting all of his guests alone, something he was not great at in the best of times.

“I—um, I’m actually not feeling so hot, you guys,” Paul answered timidly when Steve Lennard suggested that they freshen up their Scotch glasses, “I hate to be the fly in the ointment, everyone, but I think I might have to call it a little early tonight.”

“Uh oh, Pal. I hope it wasn’t the hot dogs, EPA lets them get away with putting rat shit in those, I heard,” Steve contributed.

“Oh Steve! Don’t be crass! I totally understand, Paul sweetie. Happy birthday, honey,” Amy gushed, her usual calculated and poised self, “I just need to say ‘bye’ to Katie, then we can be off.”

“I’ll go get her,” Paul tried on a very rehearsed looking smile, Amy answered with one that was rehearsed enough not to look rehearsed.

His own staircase had never seemed more ominous. He was worried he might open the door to some ghastly scene of gore and carnage, that his wife and daughter’s bodies might be dismembered and strewn about his bedroom in a lake of blood. He was relieved when Kate opened the door, even looking at him with hate in her eyes as she was. He burst into tears the moment his eyes met hers.

“Th—the Lennards want to say goodbye,” Paul snuffled, turning his dripping nose into his sleeve, “let’s get rid of them and the others, then I’ll tell you everything. Where is Olivia?”

 

[Curious_Muse]

His hand on her naked thigh sent an electric current to her core, making her pussy melt. Olivia was both excited and terrified about what his playful comment implied. She shifted in her seat, unconsciously opening her legs a little bit wider, wanting and not wanting him to continue.

It was difficult to concentrate on the road.

Olivia wanted to say something seductive, or at least witty, but her throat suddenly felt like sandpaper and all she managed was a nod and an insecure smile. Then his hand was gone, and she felt silly, reminding herself that she needed to stop falling for her own stupid high school girl fantasies, that Diego was her dad’s boss.

“Yeah, in school,” she croaked finally, answering his question about her polished Spanish. “But we often go to Mexico, too, and it’s nicer to be able to talk to people, isn’t it?”

Why did everything she said sound so stupid? Olivia was glad to finally pull into the driveway in front of Emily’s house, desperately hoping that Diego had not noticed how flustered she was.

“Sure,” she stammered in reply to his announcement that he was going to talk to Chewy first. “I’ll see you both inside.”

***
The party was already well underway, and it was crowded. There were people dancing to electronic music beats, many were standing around clutching various drinks. Olivia walked across the massive terrace overlooking the bay, hoping to find Emily. Candles flickered in glass lanterns. There was a bar stocked with an array of bottles and jars with fruit. The bartender was concentrating on pouring the contents of the cocktail mixer into glasses of waiting party-goers. Emily’s parents, both of them originally French, had a rather un-American attitude to the consumption of alcohol and obviously felt that 18-year-old high school seniors were old enough to handle their drinks.

Behind a long table a young sushi chef was busy preparing elaborate pieces of nigiri and maki, while her assistant was slicing up raw fish with breathtaking speed. In the other corner was a DJ table. Emily had told her that the guy manning it had been flown in from Amsterdam. “A promising talent of the European electro scene” she had called him in her usual half-mocking way of speaking that parodied the blasé world of fame and entertainment she had been born into.

Despite her own comfortable upbringing Olivia still felt intimidated by such privilege and wealth. Compared to the lifestyles of her fellow classmates, her family was positively destitute.

“Oh look, it’s Cinderella of the suburbs.”

Olivia turned around at the sound of mocking laughter. Olga, arguably the captain not only of their school’s successful hockey team, but also the leader of its feared bitch brigade, had already spotted her. She was sitting at the edge of the pool, flanked by her minions Amanda and Blaire. A gaggle of jocks hung around them, joining into the laughter.

“And you guys are playing the role of the evil stepsisters so well!” It was Zoe, the track team captain. “Just ignore them,” she said casually, leading Olivia away towards the bar. “Olga is pissed off because that Neanderthal Tom went down to the beach to make out with some model or actress or whatever. Better to avoid her for a bit.” Olivia noticed that Zoe was wearing a T-shirt again, even if it did a poor job of covering her pretty tits.

Olivia spotted her friends Corinne and Lora talking in another corner of the terrace, cornered by a guy who she was almost sure was that actor whose name she now could not remember. Bethan was there, too, and Olivia was glad to know that she was not the only fucking virgin at the party tonight.

“Finally!” Emily came racing towards her and kissed her on the cheek. “Hey babe, so glad you could make it.” She looked around and asked: “But where is your hot mystery date?”

***

“You have got to be kidding me!“ Kate hissed at her husband when he broke into tears. She wondered if his tears had come out of guilt, or out of anger over what had just transpired. It was impossible to guess if he had even noticed the bruises and her damp hair, and if he had come to the correct conclusions regarding both.

“Olivia?” She tried to force her voice to sound steady. “She was in the garden with you, wasn’t she? He threatened to take her with him!”

But first they needed to get rid of their guests, something that Paul had apparently not been able to do without her. “If he hurts her, I will fucking kill you,” she muttered while squeezing past him, making her way down to the garden to send off the Lennards and all the others. Kate hated the thought of Amy seeing them this way and drawing her own mocking conclusions, but it could not be helped.

“Amy, Steve, so sorry about this,” she beamed in her most bright, apologetic voice. “He has been under the weather and well, he’s not 19 anymore, is he?”

She noticed Amy’s inquisitive stare, her scanning the dress, the blouse, lingering on the bruises on her neck.

“Too bad Diego seems to have left,“ she cooed. “I would have loved to say good-bye to him.” Squeezing Kate’s hand longer than necessary, she said, sounding positively seductive: “Will you give him my regards and tell him that I hope I will get the chance to make up for our rushed departure?”

Kate stared at her. Did that bitch think that...? Steve and Amy lived what they called “the lifestyle” – and Paul had once drunkenly told her that Steve liked to watch other men fuck his wife. Did she think that…? She managed a sour, fake smile. “Sure, I will let him know.”

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

As they parted company, Diego smiled and gently touched the small of Olivia’s back, letting his fingers trail over the fabric of her dress as she walked inside. He made no attempt to disguise his leering stare as she walked away, watching her fit, round ass wiggle with her strides.

“Que paso?” Chewy asked, having parked his rolling monstrosity and popped the trunk, “we need the heaters?”

“No, idiot. These are wealthy kids—but English only from now on, they speak our language. Better schools,” Diego cautioned, retrieving his briefcase from the trunk, “call the rest of your boys, invite them over. We’ve got the granddaddy of all honey pots over here.”

“Sounds good,” Chewy smirked, closing the trunk after Diego, “what about what’s in the case? You going to share those party favors, or what?”

“Fine,” Diego sighed, “I’ll give you half a boat of the Molly, but I’m keeping the yayo until I talk to Gomez.”

“Fine, fine,” Chewy laughed, opening his nearly empty cigarette pack to allow Diego to empty half of a Ziplock bag of capsules into his cigarette pack, “I wanted the Molly anyway. This should be plenty.”

“It better be, we’re still laying low for now,” Diego warned, placing the bag of Molly back into the case, “now, let’s go. Let’s have some fun.”

The scene that the two career criminals walked into was nothing less than the honeypot that Diego described, bartenders and private chefs all worked diligently for the sake of the majoratively female group of teenaged partygoers. Diego made his way swiftly to the back yard, while Chewy stopped to take a plate of sushi. He promptly stuffed all four pieces into his mouth at once before addressing the chef with his mouth full.

“Oye, amigo. The fish isn’t done…” Chewy remarked, waiting to see how his joke was received.

True to Chewy’s expectations of the cook, he took him seriously and tried to explain, “it’s meant to be served raw…”

“Come on, estupido! I’m from Boyle Heights, I know sushi! This Ahi is for shit, though, where you get this? Alvarado Street?”

Chewy grabbed another plate before the sushi chef recovered from his stupor and walked away, ignoring the answer that came too late. His eyes first landed on Olga and her crew of chickenheads around the pool. Chewy wasn’t here looking for a challenge. He set his mind on bedding all three at once.

Emptying his pockets into his hands, Chewy waded into the pool, still wearing his sneakers, jeans and socks. He sloshed his way right past the bewildered jocks, who were both threatened and intimidated by this new arrival.

“Hello, ladies,” Chewy smiled, now at the center of the three girls at the edge of the pool, waist deep in the water, “any of you girls like Molly?”

*-*-*

When Diego happened upon the group of girls on the other side of the yard, he heard some mention of a mysterious guest who he hoped was a reference to him. He appeared behind Olivia, snaking an arm around her waist and spreading his fingers over her athletic midsection, letting her feel the outline of his cock through his tailored slacks. He kissed her neck as though he was already that familiar.

“Sorry for the delay, amor,” Diego whispered against Olivia’s damp neck, “please, introduce me to your lovely friends. I’m Diego, I manage high-value assets.”

It was a practiced lie, so practiced it was almost true, like all the best lies. The assets he managed were indisputably high-value, and managing was exactly what he did. But it sounded like something that these born-well, white whores would understand.

“So who really likes to party?” Diego asked, smiling as he produced a half-kilo of uncut Columbian pure for the viewing of the gathered ladies, “or is this more of a punch and pie kind of party?”

 

[Curious_Muse]

This was the life. Valentina Lopez lifted the champagne bottle to her lips and took a deep swig, spilling half the booze over her bikini-clad tits, trying to save at least a little bit by stopping it with one hand and lifting the fingers up to her mouth, sucking on them suggestively.

“Damn, girl,” the guy in front of her whispered admiringly, before starting to lick the champagne off her naked skin, making her squirm in his lap. Her giggles trailed off into a moan as his lips closed over one of her nipples through the fabric of her top. He looked up at her with a devilish smile. “One should never waste good champagne.”

Her cousin Inez had invited her for a long weekend up in California, and told her about this party. Valentina had been able to slip her minders, telling them that she and her cousin were off to a serious shopping-and-spa day in the city, that she needed some girl time, alone. And here she was now, sitting in the lap of a fine guy, slightly tipsy and set on making this a most memorable evening.

Tom Dylan was the boy that all the popular girls at school lusted after. Handsome, a star athlete and captain of the lacrosse team, set to graduate in the top ten of his class and currently being courted by a number of Ivy League universities, he was the literal golden boy, a born winner. It did not hurt that he came from a family of obscene wealth with connections in the corridors of power, not least because their substantial donations to this or that political candidate were able to make a real difference.

Valentina did not know, or care, about any of this. She thought that he was cute, and appreciated that he could at least string a decent sentence together, which was something that set him apart from a large number of the other preppy losers at this party. He had come at her hard, and she liked an assertive guy who knew what he wanted.

Now she sat straddling his lap on one of the chairs close to the pool house, rivulets of water rolling off her hair and down her back, grinding herself against his crotch with growing urgency. She could feel the outline of his hardening cock through his wet swimming trunks, and moaned in appreciation. Valentina kissed along his collarbone and the side of his neck, and he grabbed her ass cheeks to pull her closer against him. “God, you’re so fucking hot…,” he sighed, before pulling her face to his again.

But when she looked up, glancing over Tom’s shoulder, she froze, breaking the kiss.

“Coño!”

Tom looked at her, startled. “What’s wrong?”

“That guy over there…he works for my dad.” Valentina shrank against his muscular frame, eyeing Diego chatting up a group of gringas at the other end of the terrace. What the fuck was Torres doing at this party? Had her dad found out what she was up to? Was he here for her? If that was the case, she would be in deep shit, as would Inez.

“So?” Her beau was clearly unwilling to interrupt what he was doing for so trivial an observation. God, this chick had perfect tits, and he could not wait sucking on them, preferably while he was balls deep in her tight little pussy. But when his hand possessively cupped one of her firm tits through her bikini top, she slapped it away, and he growled.

“My dad does not know I’m here, and if he did…he probably wouldn’t like it.” The urgency in her voice made Tom look up after all. Valentina deliberately did not say: “My dad would kill you”, simply because she was not sure if she would be able to make it sound like a joke, which it wasn’t, not really. Not that her dad did not want her to have fun, on the contrary. Her whole life he had wanted nothing else, and showered her with tokens of his love and affection, mostly in the form of expensive toys, ponies, countless VIP trips to Disneyland and other costly amusements that had, more recently, morphed into designer handbags, couture and, for her 18th birthday last month, a very pretty cherry-red Porsche GTS. She was his only daughter, and her dad loved her more than anything in the world.

But he was also a practicing Catholic and a rather conservative Mexican father who believed that no boy would ever be worthy of his darling daughter, least of all some spoilt gabacho, even if he was the son and heir of one of California’s richest real estate tycoons. And he certainly wouldn’t approve of him fondling her at some party, with firm plans to make it all the way to fourth base before he even learned her last name.

Tom briefly glanced over his shoulder and saw Diego nuzzling the neck of one of Emily’s friends. Olivia something or other, the guy had good taste. He shrugged, while his hands snaked back over Valentina’s firm stomach up to her tits. Why did she care about some underling working for her dad? When she had just hit the jackpot, making out with the most sought after guy in school?

“Come on, baby, it doesn’t look like he’s here for business…” He gently but firmly grabbed her chin between his fingers and turned her head towards him again, nibbling on her lips, enticing her to finally pay attention to the man who really mattered. “And if he wants to rat you out to daddy, he’ll have to answer to me first.”

At that, Valentina did laugh, but Tom misinterpreted the reason. “See? Now…where did we leave off?”

She was not sure that Torres would even remember her. He was a freelancer, and did come to the house all that often. But it was hard to believe that his turning up at this party was a coincidence. She would have to warn Inez, too. And find a way to either get away unseen, or, somehow, convince Torres that he would keep their little getaway a secret.

***

Amanda shrieked as Chewy waded towards them still fully dressed, holding out a heap of pills in the open palm of his hand, spraying them all with water.

“Hey dude…the pool’s already kinda crowded…,” one of the jocks said lamely, without much conviction. The other three grumbled, but moved aside, at least for now. They knew that it was wise to wait for Olga’s verdict before risking a stand-off.

Blaire was less willing to let some random muchacho barge into her personal space without an invitation. If this guy did not know that it had taken weeks of groveling for these boys to be allowed to hang out with her and her two besties, he was either a total idiot or completely irrelevant, or both. In fact, he looked like he was unable to even spell “etiquette”, and she was not in the mood to humor any strays, not tonight. Crossing her arms in front of her, she scoffed: “Did you have trouble finding the staff entrance?”

Olga was still seething that Tom Dylan, whom she had worked for months to become the crowning finish of her senior year, in whom she had invested countless hours and favors, whom she had even sucked off in his car, and after their second date – a privilege she would not have accorded to anyone else –had now stood her up for some random Mexican bitch, so she was more inclined to engage the new guy in conversation, if only for the molly. She could use a bit of euphoria right about now.

“Shut up, Blaire,” she hissed in the direction of her bitchy sidekick, and then lowered herself gracefully into the pool to join Chewy in the water. Holding her half-full glass of champagne casually in one hand, she reached for the small heap of capsules he carried with her other.

“I do,” she finally answered Chewy's question, without too much interest for the man. “Can I have two?”

***

Olivia first jumped at Diego’s sudden appearance behind her, and then blushed as she felt his cock press against her backside, a hinted promise. She shivered when he briefly kissed her bare neck, hoping that nobody noticed that her knees were actually shaking. How could a guy have such an effect on her? Olivia bit her lips to suppress a sigh, her skin covered in goosebumps, and managed a smile that probably did not look as relaxed as she wanted it to.

The other girls, all except Emily, exchanged significant glances, obviously awed by the date Olivia had secured for the party, and by the enthusiastic charm and affection he was already showering her with.

But Emily had never been easy to impress. She looked impassively at Diego over her friend’s shoulder, raising an eyebrow at his introduction. “Oh, high-value assets, is it? You really shouldn’t tire our delicate lady brains with such big business words!” She had crossed her arms in front of her and smiled exaggeratedly.

Lora laughed, but Olivia shot her an angry look. Why did Emily always have to be so damn confrontational? Then Emily’s face lit up. “See what years in the company of dull preppies have done to us? They made us cynical! Nice to meet you, Diego - I’m Emily, the host of this little get-together, and Olivia’s best friend…” She looked him straight in the eyes, but her friendly tone did not change. “So if you hurt her, I will cut your balls off and feed them to my mom’s Japanese goldfish.”

Then she pointed at the rest of her friends. “And this is Lora…Corinne…” Both girls smiled at Diego. Zoe raised a half-empty beer bottle to greet him. “That’s Zoe…” Then she gestured towards the red-haired girl, the only one except Olivia who was not in a bikini, but in a neat summer dress. “And this is Bethan. Don’t be alarmed by her, she’s British.”

Bethan cleared her throat, her hands nervously wrapped around an almost empty champagne glass. “Delighted to meet you, Diego,” she finally said in a clipped, upper-class English accent, obviously not quite sure if she was expected to shake his hand. She decided against it.

When Diego produced a package of cocaine, a collective gasp rippled through the group. Olivia actually stared at him with an open mouth. “Holy shit…,” she whispered. It was not the amount of blow that shocked her, but the fact that her dad’s boss apparently had it with him on business trips. Maybe the banana trade was more exciting that she had initially thought.

“You know, it would have been fine for you to just bring a bottle…,” Emily said casually. “But this is cool, too.” She laughed. “Though now you went and spoilt my after-dinner surprise.”

Lora giggled nervously. Rumor had it that she had spent the last summer not in Tuscany, as she had told everybody, but in a rehab facility on the East coast. With obvious regret Corinne took her hand and pulled her in the direction of the bar. “Not our poison, I’m afraid. That shit gives me panic attacks. We’re getting another drink. Later!”

“More for us!” Zoe whooped. “I am definitely up for a few lines!” Emily nodded. “But let’s go to the pool house, shall we?”

Bethan looked nervous. The poor girl had just recently moved from a posh boarding school in the rainy English countryside to California, and she was struggling to adjust to her new home. “I don’t know…,” she said hesitantly, her eyes on the package in Diego’s hand. Emily put her arm around her shoulder and smiled. “Trust me, girl, you should definitely try it. I bet the shit you get over in the Old World will feel like fucking flour after this. Think of it as your integration exam!” The red-haired girl sighed, obviously unconvinced.

Emily led them to a spacious building at the far end of the terrace, and opened the door. “Nobody here!” she said with delight. “Make yourselves at home.” The one room was sparse and dramatic, and a wall-to-wall window opened the view onto the bay and the sea below. A luxurious, oversized couch and a low wooden table were the only furniture. In a corner a collection of Moroccan lanterns spread warm candlelight across the white walls. Emily plopped herself onto a patterned kilim on the floor, and Bethan sat down next to her, while Zoe threw herself onto the sofa with a sigh. Emily handed Diego a smooth glass tray with a suggestive smile. “Will you do the honor and serve us? Unless you have something better to sample this fine coke off of, I hope this will do.”

***

Kate had not had a cigarette in years, but when the smoke hit her lungs she realized how much she had needed one. Taking another deep drag, she looked at her husband, trying to process what he had just told her.

So Paul worked for a Mexican drug cartel. It was a plot twist she had not expected.

Her boring paper pusher husband, who had never broken the law in his life – or so she had thought – and who barely ever had a drink, who hated cigarettes, and who had the most conservative views on the legalization of weed…that husband was responsible for laundering billions of dollars for one of the most ruthless drug rings in Mexico. It would have been funny (and Kate did have to stifle a hysterical giggle fit once or twice) if she had not just gotten a taste of the cartel’s ability for violence, and if the man responsible would not have held their clueless daughter hostage in order to get what his boss wanted.

Paul was sitting across from her in the lawn chair, holding a tumbler still half-filled with scotch. His shoulders drooping, his hair in disarray, his face blotchy and red he looked like the Paul she was used to: helpless, panicked, unable to clean up his own messes. Through sobs and sniffles he had told her about the missing money, and how he had been trying to find the thief, so far without success. How Steve was in on the laundering, but not on the issue of theft. How he had not taken the small amounts of cash siphoned off here and there seriously until it had been too late. How he had only realized that he had waited too long when Diego had turned up at the party.

Kate took this as her cue. Ever the pragmatist, she now wanted to press for action, and find a solution to this flaming shit pile of a problem.

“He promised me that he wouldn’t touch Olivia if we find whoever is stealing from the cartel before midnight.”

Her husband reacted with another sob, throwing up his arms and spilling some of the scotch on his already stained shirt. “That bastard…our daughter…if he…!” Kate stubbed out the cigarette in the empty wine glass on the ground, and took a deep breath to smother her urge to slap Paul across the face.

“Paul, you need to get a grip. We have a little more than three hours to find whoever is responsible for the theft, and give a name to Diego.” She absentmindedly scrolled through her daughter’s Instagram account and stopped at the last picture, a snapshot of her and Emily grinning into the camera in front of what looked like a large infinity pool. Kate breathed a sigh of relief. At least Olivia was with friends who would hopefully have an eye on her.

“Three hours, Paul. Get to work, now! I will make us some coffee.”

Paul, still sobbing and lamenting that he had been trying for months without coming up with even the faintest clue, did open the laptop she had brought out on the lawn. Walking over to the kitchen, her eyes still glued to her phone screen, a picture of Amy caught her attention. It was something she had posted a few days ago, one of these photos that bitch posted to inspire envy – looking flawless in designer couture at some premiere or other – but what really caught Kate’s attention was the elegant bag the woman was holding.

She stopped in her tracks. The Lennards were wealthy, sure, in the same way that they were. They had a very nice house, two nice cars, a modest holiday home off the coast road. After all, as she had just learned, Steve made his money the same way Paul did, and had done well for himself as a mob accountant. But Amy? As far as Kate was aware, Amy enjoyed a life of leisure, taken up only by the occasional charity event, yoga classes, and lengthy spa treatments. But this was the latest Hermès Birkin handbag, a fucking diamond-encrusted number that, Kate knew for a fact, cost more, way more, than an average sports car. Steve would never be able to afford it, unless…unless the Lennards had recently come into money. And Amy had never mentioned any such thing, even though she would be the first to flaunt a lottery win, or an unexpected inheritance.

“Paul…” she called out to her husband. “I think we might have a suspect. All we now need to do is to prove her guilt.”

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

Chewy chuckled in response to one of the girls shrieking, he’d assumed that he’d shock them, but her reaction was more than he’d imagined. Another of them, a brunette with nice tits in spite of being otherwise rail thin, gave him attitude, suggesting that he was “the help.” It wasn’t the first time he’d heard that one—privileged little twats like her spent their whole lives exploiting the labor of people like him. But not quite like him…

“I’m not lost, puta. I’m the guest of honor,” Chewy smiled at Blaire before snatching the bag back from Olga’s greedy grasp, “not so fast, Blanca. We haven’t even been properly introduced. I’m Chewy, like from Star Wars, but not nearly as hairy. What do they call you?”

As Chewy held the hand that contained the bag of pills and his car keys back from Olga, he also waded toward her through the water, working his way to the pool edge, pushing between her dangling legs with his soaking, denim clad hips. His hand with his wallet, his lighter and a pack of cigarettes reached across her thigh to deposit the items on the deck, next to her hip.

“I sell these, you know. I’m not Papa Claus, or somebody. But I might share them with my friends. Do you want to be my friend? I’m a very good friend to have. I don’t just know how to get things you want—I know how to do things you want too.”

With his other hand freed up, Chewy reached back to the bag and pulled two capsules out from the top. He placed both on his tongue, sticking it out to cradle them in a mushy pink bowl. He then locked eyes with Olga and beckoned her with one finger as if to say, ‘come and get them.’

No, they’d never met anyone like him before at all.

*-*-*

Diego watched from the corner of his eye as Chewy proceeded to make an ass of himself—but that was something he’d expected. What he hadn’t expected was spotting the young heir to an old Cartel family straddling some hairless white boy. Lopez wouldn’t like that, not at all—but it wasn’t really his place, he wasn’t here to check up on her. Still, it was information—valuable information that he’d need to consider for a time before deciding how to use it to best benefit himself.

Another unexpected wrinkle was Emily, the apparent host of the party, threatening him in fairly graphic terms. As one who had actually gelded another man—during his career, Diego knew what a messy business it was to butcher a man from his manliness. He doubted that she’d even know to heat up whatever instrument she decided to use, Diego had chosen bolt cutters, heat them up until the metal glows orange so that the wound will cauterize fast enough to stop him from bleeding out.

A death threat.

It was no small thing to threaten death on a believer in Santa Muerte, it was a kind of promise. A promise of a life. A promise of death. He couldn’t very well preserve his façade of the mysterious benefactor if he killed off the host within his first five minutes at a party—but he now had a score to settle with Emily. That was also a promise.

Diego kept the farce going outwardly, smiling and ingratiating himself as he followed his new nemesis to her pool house. She was skinny for his taste, but Diego knew that he could find pleasure in Emily’s suffering, whether or not sex was involved.

“Yes, this will do nicely,” Diego smiled, taking the tray from Emily and setting it on the table at the center of the group while he knelt beside it, carefully pouring out a very generous helping of the fine, white powder, “say when!”

Diego joked, after already loading almost an eight ball onto the tray. He sealed the bag and replaced it in his coat pocket. From that same pocket with a sudden, quick flip of his wrist, Diego produced the blade of a long, folding knife that appeared with an urgent “Click!” that silenced the rest of the room for a moment. Until he lowered the blade to the tray and began cutting from the pile of powder and spreading it into several narrow lines.

Since there was no shortage, Diego got a little bit artistic, cutting the lines diagonal across the tray, the ones at the corner so short there was barely a taste—growing longer across the tray until the center of the tray where one massive line, over a gram on its own, stretched from corner to corner.

“I think the beginners should go first, so they can decide how they like it before they try more,” Diego announced, speaking directly to Emily while he folded his knife back up, “we experts can wait for the bigger doses.”

Diego winked at Emily, but there was no warmth in it.

“Bethan, was it? You should go first, just a tiny taste to see how you like it.”

Diego extracted a crisp $100 bill from his pants pocket, sliding it free from his larger money clip. He rolled the bill into a narrow straw and held it out to the wide-eyes, pretty redhead who he had no doubt would love his stuff.

“Then Olivia can have some next.”

 

[Curious_Muse]

“Nice to meet you, Chewy,” Olga said in reply to his introduction. “I am Olga.” She motioned towards her two sidekicks. “Blaire and Amanda.”

Amanda waved her fingers at him with a somewhat bored expression, while Blaire just scowled and looked away. She was annoyed with the turn that the situation had taken and still unwilling to grant this obvious party crasher any attention.

Taking a sip from her drink, she turned toward the pool house and spotted Tom fondling that Mexican girl’s bikini-clad tits on one of the lounge chairs. “Would you look at that asshole,” she said coolly, loud enough for the people in her immediate vicinity to hear. “Doesn’t even feel the need to take his slut somewhere private. Who does he think he is?”

Who does she think she is, Olga thought bitterly. It was bad enough that Tom had ditched her for some random bitch he had just come across at the party. But that he now paraded her around like this, out in the open? Without that slut acknowledging, or even knowing, that she was poaching in forbidden territory? That was an unforgivable slight, and Olga would not risk her reputation and her standing in school by letting such an infraction go unpunished.

She looked at Chewy holding the bag of Molly, letting her gaze travel slowly and deliberately from his sodden hips to his shaven head. He looked like the sort of guy who could be helpful in getting her the kind of revenge she liked best. Something that would humiliate that bitch. Something that would hurt. An idea started to form in her mind.

“You know what, Chewy? I am all about friendship, and all about sharing with my friends, and I think Amanda wants to try this candy of yours first.” Olga beckoned her with an impatient wave of her hand. “Isn’t that right, sweetie?”

Amanda looked somewhat dismayed, but it was very clear from both her cowering expression and Olga’s scowl that this was not a matter up for debate. “Yes, sure,” she said in a faux-cheerful voice. The pretty brunette let herself slide into the water and came to stand in front of their new guest.

“I think we’ll get along very well, Chewy,” Olga said, watching as Amanda wrapped her lips around his tongue, before pulling him into a kiss. “Maybe we can help each other out tonight? Because see, I am also a good friend to have, and I and can do and make things happen that I bet you want.”

***

Emily was intrigued by Diego. His sudden antipathy was completely lost on her, simply because she was used to being able to be the mouthiest one in the room. Emily was used to getting away with it, because she was self-confident, rich, and beautiful, and there were rarely any occasions when anyone ever objected to her attitude. She watched him cut the coke with quick, practiced movements and other than her friends his folding knife did not scare, but fascinate her. It made him look dangerous. It was hot.

She watched Olivia who was very obviously quite flustered about the attention she was getting from Diego. Maybe the coke would take the edge off her nerves. Emily could not understand how a girl like Olivia had managed to both escape all the predatory boys at their school and convince herself that she would remain a virgin forever because no one wanted her. It was time for someone to show her the fucking ropes, so to speak.

“Sure,” she replied to Diego, all smiles. “Sounds great to me. Bethan should totally go first.”

Torn as she was between her dislike of losing control and her desire to fit in with the girls in her new school, Bethan hesitantly took the rolled-up dollar bill from Diego. She contemplated the differently sized lines, before settling for the smallest. Bending over the tray she held away her hair with her left hand while using the bill like a straw with her right to inhale the tiny amount of white powder. She breathed in deeply through her nose, and crunched her eyes shut when the coke hit her sensitive nose cavity, apprehensive of the effect the drug would have on her.

Sniffling a bit, she simply stated: “Hm…interesting.” The red-haired girl rubbed the sides of her nose, quickly pushed the tray towards Olivia and handed her the rolled-up bill without saying anything else.

Olivia, who had seated herself on the edge of the sofa across from Diego and Emily, took the bill. “You guys do realize that this shit is killing people across in Mexico, right? I mean…people get murdered by the cartels because we can’t stop snorting it…?”

This announcement hung awkwardly in the air for a moment, and Olivia felt herself blushing. Shit. She glanced at Diego sheepishly, feeling like an idiot. Her ability to say the wrong thing at the wrong time and to the wrong people was unrivalled. “No offense,” she added hurriedly looking at Diego. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to…”

“I forgot how much fun you are, Livy,” Zoe interrupted her dryly. “But if you’d rather feel morally superior than high, please just pass on the tray and don’t spoil it for the rest of us.”

Feeling even more sheepish, Olivia shook her head and held on to the tray. “Nono…sorry, so sorry,” she said, and snorted a medium line through her right nostril. She had never taken coke before, though Emily had offered it to her on several occasions. Her dad would ground her for the rest of the senior year if he knew, maybe longer. She snorted another line, one for each nostril.

The effect on her was immediate. Olivia looked up, hurriedly wiping the rest of the white powder away from under her nose, and smiled. This was pure bliss. “Wow…,” she sighed, and started laughing. The sudden rush of euphoria made her giddy. The flickering candlelight was so pretty against the white walls! She felt more alert, and her skin was tingling with need to be touched. She looked at Diego. Maybe it was a good thing that they were not alone in the pool house now, or she would likely make a total ass of herself.

Zoe chuckled, took the bill from her and quickly snorted first one line then another. Then she pinched her nose shut and leant her head back, eyes closed, waiting for the coke to seep into her bloodstream. “Fuck, this is…good,” she said, her voice sounding nasal through her fingers still clamping her nostrils shut.

Emily bent over the tray and took to the second-biggest line Diego had made. This was the best coke she had ever tried, and it was certainly stronger than anything she had snorted before. It hit her nervous system like an explosion of magic stardust. Never one to be cautious, she did another line. “Shit…,” she breathed, closing her eyes.

She laughed, and fell against Diego. “Oh sorry,” she giggled, unable to stop. Her hand fell on his arm to steady herself, but when she pushed herself upright, she did not take it away. Instead she started slowly caressing his arm through his shirt. “You feel so good,” she whispered. Another fit of laughter shook her, and she beamed at him. “Sorry, man…but I blame you and your coke.” Emily took away her hand hesitantly. “Irresistible.”

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

Chewy smiled as the blonde who introduced herself as Olga sent the girl she said was named Amanda over to him in the waist deep water. He wasted no time, placing his wide, tattooed hand across her petite ass and squeezing what flesh was there as he allowed her to suck the capsules from his tongue—probing deeper once they were gone, his tongue writhing against hers as he pulled her lower body to straddle his wet, denim-clad thigh.

“Sounds like you’re a bit of a hustler, Olga,” Chewy smirked, after the kiss broke, offering his tattooed neck to Amanda’s continued attention. “I can appreciate that since I’m a hustler too. Seems like my impeccable nose for talent has led me to the right friends again. So, tell me, what did you have in mind?”

Under the water, Chewy’s large cock was growing harder between Amanda’s thighs as his hand on her ass urged her to drag herself up and down his thigh, the coarse pattern of soaking denim roughly stroking her young, sensitive sex through her swimsuit. He handed the bag of capsules to Olga, satisfied with her offering, he turned back to Amanda, giving her another deep, lewd kiss while helping himself to a generous feel of her modest breasts.

“Help yourself, Blanca,” Chewy smiled, his fingers under the water working their way lower and gently peeling their way inside the crotch of her bathing suit, “I am…”

*-*-*

Diego watched with amused satisfaction as each of the girls gathered around and followed his instructions, leaving the longest and fattest lines for himself and Emily—a fitting tribute for the host of this bacchanal. As he’d expected, the drugs opened the girls up—Emily most of all, who seemed so enthusiastically won over by Diego and his drugs that he was starting to worry that her overt flirtation might jeopardize his chances with Olivia—which he could not allow.

“Come here,” Diego spoke softly, almost mouthing the words as he gestured for Olivia to come join him on the couch with the arm that wasn’t currently being romanced by Emily. He indicated his lap as a potential landing spot for Olivia if she accepted his invitation.

He hoped that she would. Diego had no real interest in Emily outside of the purely sadistic and malicious, but Olivia was a shy virgin and he wouldn’t be surprised if this wasn’t the first time Emily had become enamored with someone who might have been a potential partner for her so-called best friend.

Still, perhaps there was another way to approach this, to make an ally of Emily for the time being and use her to ease Olivia’s concern or nervousness—a sort of sexual attaché to help her open up and to normalize the more… unconventional things he had planned. Perhaps there was a way to even turn this whole situation to his advantage—make a reverse gang bang out of this group of women, but the other innocent seeming one, Bethan, might be trouble, especially since he hadn’t put in the groundwork that he had with Olivia.

Diego decided to let the drugs work their magic some more, leaning into Emily as he reached out and cut up several more lines while he waited to see if Olivia would indulge him by sitting in his lap. When eight more lines were measured across the mirror (all the same size this time) he folded the knife back up and returned it to his pocket.

“Anyone for seconds,” he asked, looking straight at Zoe who seemed to be the preeminent partier and enabler aside from Emily, “I’ve got lots and it’s not going to snort itself.”

He flashed a disarming smile, either he’d bring himself closer to a sex frenzy with all four of these gorgeous teens or he’d clear out the ones who were less inclined to take his cock. A win-win, as the saying went.

 

[Curious_Muse]

Amanda was, quite obviously, somewhat overwhelmed by Chewy’s lack of restraint. But there was not much she could do. His grip on her ass was way too firm to move away from him, and he was a greedy kisser. Olga rolled her eyes at her friend’s panicked coyness. She knew, just as everybody else in the pool did, including the gaggle of bewildered jocks, that Amanda had given up any reason to feign timidity a long time ago.

She had swallowed both pills, and was hoping that the Molly would kick in fast. This guy was not shy, and Amanda could feel his sizable cock grow hard against her crotch. His hand roughly cupped one of her small, firm tits and she winced, but with Olga watching, she would not have dared to resist. At the same time it did not feel entirely bad as he dragged her along his thigh, the friction against her pussy making her sigh into the kiss.

Olga smiled. When Chewy handed her the bag, she took it, and threw it over to Blaire. “Thanks, Chewy,” she said softly.

“But see, I did not mean to swap a bag of Molly against whatever it is you have in mind for Amanda here.” There was a muffled sound of protest from the girl, her lips firmly locked to Chewy’s. “I need your help to put a bitch back in her place who crossed me. Who took something that does not belong to her.” As she spoke, Olga slid behind Chewy in the water, her hands gently gliding under the hem of his soaked shirt. She was almost as tall as he was. Pressing her whole body against his back, caressing his bare stomach and chest, she kissed along the side of his exposed neck, before whispering: “Maybe you even have a few friends who would like to help a fellow hustler out? All I am asking is for you to teach her a lesson, and make sure that the bitch’s reputation is ruined forever, not only in our circle, but in hers, too. Bring me proof, post it wherever you need, and I promise you…” Her hands slid past the waistband of his jeans and into his shorts, “…I promise you all three of us, together, and that you can put it anywhere you like.”

She had made a fist around his hardening cock, giving it a few good strokes, before she stepped away to the side, her eyebrows raised.

“Do we have a deal?”

***

Zoe laughed when Diego pushed the tray over to her invitingly, the eight white lines neatly cut on it. “Oh, I don’t think that this coke will have to snort itself!” She pushed herself up to her feet, did a small pirouette, her arms outstretched, wiggling her tight little ass. “And I have a friend who would kill me if she knew she wasn’t even invited to this little get-together here. I will go and find her.” And with that she was out of the door, leaving the other three girls alone with Diego.

Olivia felt giggly, but hesitated when Diego invited her to sit…in his lap. Her eyes darted from him to Emily, who wiggled her eyebrows at her, smiling wickedly. “Come on”, her friend mouthed silently, indicating Diego with a barely noticeable nod. But wasn’t this a bit much?

“Are you not going to have any?” Bethan’s voice interrupted the silent communication between the other three people in the room, and the suspicion in her voice was clear. She looked straight at Diego who so far had served the coke, but had not sampled any of it himself. It was clearly a fact that had kept her thinking, and now she frowned at the rest of the group. Laughing, Emily turned to Diego and explained: “She’s her mother’s daughter, can you tell? I’ll bet she’ll end up with the cops, too, when she’s all grown up.”

Bethan crossed her arms in front of her, her lips pressed together. It was clear that she would not let this go. Emily looked at her and sighed. “Sweetie, a gentleman never snorts before the ladies are satisfied!” She theatrically stressed the last word. “There is so much we still have to teach you, don’t we!” She got up and walked over to the timid redhead. Pulling the tray towards herself and Bethan, she handed her the dollar bill, while gently holding up her hair. “Here, have a real serving of this fine powder. I promise you that it’ll be worth your while…” Emily planted a soft kiss on the other girl’s bare shoulder who blushed a deep red, unable to stifle a sigh. While Bethan, suddenly completely subdued, leant over the tray and breathed in deeply through the makeshift straw, finishing one line, and then the other, Emily let one of her hands playfully trail the girl’s naked thigh, her fingers partly vanishing under the hem of the dress. She had long suspected that Bethan had a crush on her, and what better occasion to put her devotion to the test?

In the meantime, Olivia did muster the courage to get up. What the hell. Diego wasn’t even really her dad’s boss, but a sort of outside consultant, and anyway, she was eighteen and old enough not to worry about what her dad would think. Smiling, she gingerly sat down on Diego’s knee, hesitating to put her entire weight on it and unsure what do to with her hands. “Hi…”, she said softly, turning to look at him. “I can’t believe that this is not super uncomfortable for you…”

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

Diego chuckled at Emily’s predatory exploits toward the third girl among them. Perhaps this Emily was a more useful toy than he’d previously thought—it was a useful skill, after all, to convince other girls to abandon their inhibitions. He smiled at Olivia’s coy shyness as she tentatively sat on his lap. He lifted her arm closest to himself and draped it around his neck, his other hand on her hip, snugging her closer into his lap.

“I’m more comfortable now,” Diego smiled, “maybe even more comfortable still if you undid a few buttons on my shirt…”

For a moment, Diego locked eyes with Olivia, his uniquely intense passion smoldering behind his observant, brown eyes. He wanted her—not just her alone, but her friends as well, right here and now. He knew that this was probably a bit of a stretch for the virginal daughter of an accountant, but as he glanced at the clock which told him midnight was drawing near, he also knew that before much longer things were going to need to escalate—whether sweetly or cruelly.

“Bethan, I apologize if I made you nervous, I’d be delighted to have some of that candy. Why don’t you use one of your nails as a spoon and serve it to me? Since Olivia and I have gotten so… comfortable,” Diego asked smiling over at the timid redhead, her name sounding almost musical when filtered through his accent, “Emily, might we have some mood music? Maybe a bottle of something strong?”

While he addressed the other two girls, Diego’s left hand moved from Olivia’s hip to her thigh, very high up, even higher than the last time he’d touched her this way and his fingertips just gently sliding inward—not quite reaching anywhere “inappropriate,” but threatening those areas distinctly.

While he waited for Bethan and Emily to serve him, he leaned in and kissed Olivia on the lips, not exactly a lewd kiss, but gentle, asking, his tongue moving along her lower lip as if begging permission to enter.

*-*-*

Chewy was only halfway paying attention to what Olga was saying until she slipped into the water with him. She was an impressive specimen of a woman—tall and built, athletic, not sleight in any way, shape or form. Chewy had always had a thing for blondes, growing up around the gang life, blonde white girls were something of a rare find in the circles he ran in. Sure, all of his ex girlfriends had dyed their hair blonde at his insistence—but even a good dye job always looked different on Latinas. Even though he preferred the proportions of his past Latina lovers, blonde white girls were something of an acquired taste for him.

While he’d been eagerly tongue fucking Amanda’s mouth, lewdly dragging her back and forth on his thigh and teasing the outline of her nipple through her bathing suit—all of that stopped when he first felt Olga’s hands roaming his skin under the water.

Chewy even broke the kiss with Amanda to sigh audibly when Olga began slowly jerking him under the water. He paid very close attention when she finished sweetening her offer to him.

“Well, I’m certainly going to make sure you girls are taken care of for tonight, that entire bag of party favors is not on offer—though I will let you three be in charge of it while I go take care of this thief problem of yours,” Chewy trailed off, Olga’s lips on his neck wringing another sigh from him, “aside from that small wrinkle, yes, we’ve got a deal. Just point me in the direction of our mark.”

 

[Curious_Muse]

Olivia’s throat ran dry when her eyes met Diego’s, their lips only inches apart. She drew in her breath sharply when his fingers ran up her thigh – the hem of her dress had ridden far up her legs –but she did not dare to move for fear that he would stop. His gentle touch made her shiver in anticipation. Would they –

He did. Olivia immediately abandoned herself into the kiss, unable to do anything else. With her eyes closed she lifted her free hand to shyly caress his cheek, her lips parting for him, allowing him to pull her deeper into the embrace, squirming in his lap. This was so good…his kiss was both gentle and demanding, and when his tongue found hers, all she could do was give in to it.

She was dimly aware that soft music started playing from loudspeakers around the room, was it Nina Simone? She did not care. There were soft footsteps, the sound of a cabinet door, of glasses, of ice cubes, of a liquid poured out of a bottle. All through it, Olivia hung on Diego’s lips like she was drowning, wanting this moment to never ever end.

But it did. A brief flash pulled her from her trance and she broke the kiss, and saw Emily lowering her phone with a grin. “What the fuck?” she said nervously, aware that her best friend had just snapped a picture. Emily smiled apologetically. “That was way too beautiful not to be preserved for all eternity,” she said happily, before throwing her phone onto the couch and out of her reach. “I will give you lovebirds the privacy you deserve now,” she said, adding mischievously: “Well, almost, anyway. I would not want to miss any of this for the world.”

Olivia saw that there was a tumbler filled with ice cubes and a brown liquid in front of them on the low table, easily within Diego’s reach. Emily took a sip from her own glass and grimaced.

Then she leant in to Bethan, who was sitting motionless, her chest rising and falling in quick succession, obviously under the influence of the coke. “Yes, why don’t you let him have a taste, darling,” Emily whispered softly in her ear while locking eyes with Diego. She loved the game he was playing, loved that he took what he wanted. A man after her own heart.

Bethan nodded and nervously scooped up a small heap of the coke from the mirror. While she lifted her fingers up to Diego, balancing the powder on the tip of her nail, Emily, smiling wickedly, lowered the dress strap over her other shoulder, revealing a lacy, silver-grey bra. The British girl blushed and squirmed a little, but did not protest. Emily, kneeling behind Bethan, cupped the girl’s firm round breast, caressing her nipple through the smooth silk, and kissed along the smooth skin of her neck. The red-haired girl moaned softly, plaintively as if against her will. “What do you think, Diego?” Emily said softly, her eyes shining while she peeled the hem of Bethan’s dress up her thighs, enough to reveal the hint of the shivering girl’s silk panties. “Do you want more?”

Olivia was transfixed. The situation was escalating rather quickly, but she would not have wanted any of it to stop. The coke in her bloodstream, the taste of Diego still on her lips, all she wanted was more of all of it.

***

Olga’s smile widened and she nodded. “That sounds good to me. We have a deal.”

Amanda had backed away from Chewy, trying to catch her breath. Blaire, however, looked mutinous. “I don’t see why we will get punished for that bitch’s transgression,” she hissed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I’d rather fuck the entire chess team and all of their geek friends than that clown.”

Olga looked at her. “I can make that happen for you, Blaire,” she said calmly, her voice like silk. “Just say the word.” For a brief moment, it seemed as if the brown-haired girl was going to retort something equally venomous, but then she quietly opened the bag of Molly in her hand and fished out two pills. “Whatever,” she muttered darkly, defeated. “I hope these fucking things are any good.”

The tall blonde girl turned her attention back to her new ally. “See that cunt over there, straddling the jock in the beach chair? That’s her.” She nodded towards Valentina who was now laughing at something Tom had said with her head thrown back. “That bitch needs to learn what it means to take something that is mine. I am delighted that you have agreed to tutor her in this important life lesson.” Olga scowled as she watched Tom nuzzle the bitch’s neck. His infatuation with her was unseemly and disgusting, and Olga could not wait for that smirk being wiped off that Mexican cunt’s face.

“And Chewy?” Olga moved closer to him again, her fingers gently caressing the outline of his hard cock and his balls through the fabric of his wet jeans. “Make it hurt.”

***

Half a bottle of Champaign later Valentina had almost forgotten about Diego, and she was squirming in Tom’s lap, now as eager to have him fuck her as he was. “Can we go somewhere more private?” she whispered in his ear, rubbing her bikini-clad pussy against his crotch.

He grinned. As certain as he had been of his victory, her impatience to have his cock considerably added to his triumph. “I am sure this can be arranged,” he said, groaning as she kept wiggling in his lap like the expert tease that she was. “Why don’t we go down to the beach?”

Valentina nodded. “Yes, perfecto.” She stood up, nodding towards the house. “Why don’t you go on ahead, I’ll go powder my nose and bring some more provisions from the bar.” He pulled her close again, both of his hands on the firm globes of her ass. “Sure, babe. Just hurry. I can’t wait.”

Giggling, Valentina squirmed out of his grip and made her way towards the entrance of the house, her pussy throbbing in anticipation. She could not wait either. If Tom fucked only half as well as he kissed, she was in for a memorable night.

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

Diego sighed through his nose as his tongue writhed against Olivia’s his hand continuing its lewd journey between her thighs. His fingers slipped into the front of her bikini bottoms, his rough fingertips moving gently over her well-manicured mound until his middle digit gently encountered the hood of her swelling clit. By the time Emily flashed her camera phone, Diego’s finger was already rubbing gentle but deliberate circles against her clit, coaxing back the hood and rubbing against the exposed bundle of nerves just as Olivia finished giving voice to her objection.

The rubbing didn’t end when the kiss did, if anything it only became more intense, watching as Emily urged Bethan to scoop a sizeable dose of coke onto her French tipped nail and bring it to him. Emily was proving more useful by the second, Diego mused—though her insult from before was far from forgotten. Perhaps she was the sort that would enjoy the fall as much as he would enjoy taking her down.

Eager prey.

“Yes, of course,” Diego smiled, addressing Emily’s question while his fingers continued to move and stroke inside Olivia’s bikini bottoms, “I’m the sort that always, always, always wants more.”

Each time he said ‘always,’ Diego bore down on Olivia’s clit, pressing hard as if trying to push it flat and then moving away only to slide back down as he repeated himself. By way of illustration, he leaned over toward Bethan and Emily, quickly snorting the coke up from the makeshift spoon of Bethan’s fingernail and then drained his glass in one pull. It was good Scotch, likely chosen by Emily’s father. He doubted that teenaged girls had such fine taste in liquor.

“How about you, Olivia,” Diego turned back to the girl in his lap, his lips lightly brushing her neck, “do you want more?”

He knew the answer already and acted accordingly, setting the glass aside and reaching past her hip to unbutton and unzip his designer slacks. It took a little bit of shifting but at last, Diego was able to free his large, hard cock which seemed to wrap around Olivia’s toned hip.

“How about you, Bethan? Do you want more? Emily… I don’t even have to ask. Go on, girls. I want you to.”

With his cock exposed and his other hand still busy inside Olivia’s bathing suit, Diego reached around to caress and squeeze Olivia’s breast through her dress, pulling her against his chest while he made room between his legs for her friends to enjoy his cock.

*-*-*

“It’s a deal, then,” Chewy smiled, pinching Amanda’s tight ass as she pulled away and turning to give Olga a gentle kiss on her plump bottom lip, “I’ll be right back for my reward.”

Chewy flashed a quick, condescending wink at Blaire as he passed—her revulsion at the idea of fucking him was an unexpected turn on. Little Miss Staff-Entrance, he had big plans for her own “staff entrance,” when he came to collect. There was a part of him that doubted Olga’s sincerity in this bargain—seeming almost too good to be true, but worst-case scenario, he’d fuck up four pretty, little bitches instead of just one.

In one fluid motion, Chewy climbed out of the pool, having to hold on to his sodden jeans that already fit him loose. His thin tank top had turned transparent from the water, revealing his gang tattoos that covered his midsection. As he walked, Chewy gripped his still hard cock through his jeans to keep them held up, hastening his pace as the girl he was after made her way into the house.

Whoever this bitch was, she had ass for days! It excited him to watch her big, round cheeks tensing, relaxing and jiggling as she walked ahead of him. He followed her into the house where he was dripping on the carpet with every step, but that didn’t bother him in the slightest—a wet rug was the least of what was going to happen to this house once the rest of his crew arrived.

When the girl opened the door to one of the ground level bathrooms, Chewy sped up to a run and lunged at her, bodily shoving her into the bathroom and slamming the door behind himself.

“Hey, bitch! Ever seen a lowrider?” Chewy asked, almost like a battle cry, the cheesy pick-up line that he often used, thrusting with his groin first to knock the girl over, “seems like you made some bad enemies tonight. Now you gotta pay.”

Chewy let his wet jeans fall around his ankles as he locked the door from inside. His cock was rigid and clearly visible through his wet boxers.

“Or at least make it look like I’m making you pay. Everything is negotiable—depending on your attitude,” Chewy grabbed the girl roughly by her shoulders, lifting her back to her feet, “what’s your name? Why do people want you to go down?”

 

[Curious_Muse]

Olivia drew in her breath sharply when Diego’s hand slipped into her bikini bottoms, finding her clit. He was not wasting any time, and, she immediately discovered, he knew what he was doing. God, this felt good, nothing like the clumsy fumbling she had come to expect from the boys she had dated. Shyly and almost as if they had developed a will of their own, her thighs inched further apart to grant him better access. Her eyes fluttered shut and she let her head sink back against his shoulder, her hands holding on his upper thigh, his willing plaything.

Olivia was aware of the obscenity of the situation, of the fact that both Emily and Bethan were watching and that she let a man she had only just met finger her at a party. It was a pretty slutty thing to do, and it was exactly what made it so exciting. She was so wet for him, so helpless, so very unable to control herself in front of her classmates. Her wantonness was on display for everyone to see. It was mortifying, but Olivia simply could not help it, and she failed to stifle a deep moan as his fingers continued his illicit dance.

Emily watched Diego’s hand move in deliberate, small circles under the fabric of Olivia’s dress, and, when her friend opened her legs a little further, she caught a glimpse of his fingers inside her bikini bottoms. It was breathtakingly erotic. Even more exciting was his gaze, daring her to follow his lead. Bethan was breathing very quickly under Emily’s caresses, seemingly too scared, or too embarrassed, to move. With a wicked grin, her eyes still locked to Diego’s, she pulled the red-haired girl’s dress up above her hips and slid one hand into the front of the grey silk panties. Bethan made a muffled sound that was half-protest, half-moan, but Emily, feeling her friend’s slick pussy lips against her fingers, did not relent. She gently started to rub her friend’s clit, slowly circling the wet, swollen nub, and Bethan started to pant and buck back against her urgently. Who would have thought that the shy British girl had such talent, such drive?

When Diego’s lips brushed against the sensitive skin of her neck, Olivia shuddered and nodded silently at his question, her eyes still closed. How far would he go? How far would she go? At this point, she honestly did not know. She felt him shifting slightly beneath her, heard him unbuckle his belt, unzip his fly. Olivia did not dare to open her eyes, as if keeping them closed would keep her safe from further temptation. Surely, he was not going to fuck her, not here, not like this. But wasn’t that exactly what she wanted him to do? His fingers were torturing her, applying the right amount of pressure, making her writhe and moan in his lap.

Bethan’s mouth fell open when she first saw Diego’s hard cock. She stared at it, fascinated, and Emily, who thoroughly enjoyed the role she played in the corruption of her two friends, chuckled softly, while continuing to rub Bethan’s clit, pinching her nipple with her other hand, drawing a plaintive moan from her. It was almost like a contest between her and Diego. Olivia, still so desperately trying to hide her uninhibitedness, bit her lip to silence her ever more vocal sighs. She was so close. Her fingers were urgently digging into his thigh, and when he gently squeezed her breast through her dress, she whimpered softly. Emily thought that she looked so beautiful in her helpless arousal, so vulnerable. Her face was flushed, her lips formed a perfect little o, her legs were trembling and her lashes fluttered nervously against her cheeks. Emily could not wait to see her being fucked.

But first things first. “Go on, you heard the man.” Emily flicked the tip of her tongue over the soft skin of Bethan’s neck, drawing another sigh from the girl. “He wants us to.” She gently took one of the girl’s hands in hers and guided it up to Diego’s cock, wrapping Bethan’s fingers around the thick rod with her own and started to stroke it together with her. “Beautiful,” Emily whispered, and she meant it, licking her lips. Bethan’s slender fingers looked even smaller around this massive cock, and Emily could feel the girl’s breath quickening when it twitched in her grip. She wondered if Bethan liked cock at all. For now she was an eager student, her eyes fixed on it, her lips so close that Diego would be able to feel her warm breath against his naked skin.

***

Valentina screamed in surprise as she was bodily shoved into the bathroom. She stumbled, and, following another shove, fell onto her knees on the tile floor, just barely missing the porcelain wash basin with her head. What the fuck? Somewhat disoriented and still a little tipsy she tried to scramble to her feet, slipped, but finally managed a panicked glance over her shoulder to face the guy who had pushed her. Was this some sort of prank, some frat guy joke? Her attacker looked like a stereotypical cartoon version of a Latino gangbanger, and for a fraction of a second Valentina wondered if this was maybe some sort of ironic statement that Inez would have come up with. Her cousin had a wacky sense of humor like that. But clearly the guy did not even know who she was, and most likely mixed her up with somebody else.

She raised her eyebrows when he dropped his jeans, granting her a full frontal view of his boner through his shorts. What was he asking of her? Some sort of blowjob payback? For what? Several things her father would do to this dude’s dick came to her mind, if he knew that he had exposed himself in this way to his daughter.

No, clearly he had no idea who she was.

“Pendejo, that’s not even a little funny,” she spat, wincing in pain when he roughly pulled her to her feet. Valentina tried push against him to free herself from his grip, looking more annoyed than terrified. Ignoring everything he had said, she added: “Let me go now, asshole, or trust me that you will be very, very sorry.”

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

Chewy sucked his teeth in response to Valentina’s attitude. He’d thought that maybe he could play both sides in this exchange, but it seemed that there was no reasoning with her. He certainly didn’t appreciate being called names. He lifted the front of his tank top, brandishing his gang tattoos across his stomach.

“Wrong answer, bitch. I’m with the Tres Seis Mafia and we don’t make empty threats,” Chewy seethed, releasing her shoulder with one hand and grabbing her by her long, black hair, “so now, you’ve gotta get knocked down a peg.”

As a courtesy, Chewy flushed the toilet before bodily wrestling Valentina over the bowl and shoving her face down into the water. He raised his other hand and brought it down on her thick, round ass cheek with a loud slap that left the supple flesh jiggling after the strike. Then again, another hard spank that filled the room with the sharp sound of impact.

“We might have been able to work out a con together, you and me,” Chewy reflected, continuing to hold Valentina’s face in the water as he tugged down her swim bottoms, “worked together to show those white bitches not to fuck with people’s expectations—but you just wouldn’t listen…”

Among his things that he’d held aloft over the water, Chewy brought his smart phone with him. When he finally dragged her face back up, clear of the water, he took a photo of her—drenched and spluttering, then he shoved her back down to the bottom of the toilet bowl. This time, he lowered his wet boxers enough to free his thick, uncut cock. He saw no reason to delay things, no point to any further foreplay, he buried his cock into her tight pussy all in one stroke.

It was supposed to hurt.

The water sloshed and splashed around the toilet bowl as he fucked her tight pussy with savage intensity, keeping her under water, starving for breath. Just as she started to clench and tense like she might lose consciousness, Chewy flushed again, giving her a brief respite to catch her breath.

“You ought to know better than to take what doesn’t belong to you. Everyone hates thieves, especially insecure white girls. They just don’t like to get their hands dirty. If it wasn’t me, they’d get someone else to teach you your place.”

This time, when Chewy raised Valentina’s head from the toilet bowl, he kept himself in frame, balls deep inside her and smiling as he took another photo of her disgrace. Then he shoved her back into the water again.

*-*-*

The feeling of Bethan’s warm breath on his engorged shaft made Diego’s cock twitch and tug as it grew even more rigid. Though he regretted to release Olivia’s firm, round breast, he couldn’t wait any longer to feel what the inside of Bethan’s mouth felt like. He placed his palm gently on the back of her head and gently guided her forward and down until the foreskin covered head was past her lips.

Diego locked eyes with Emily once again, gesturing with his eyes toward the girl in his lap, wanting to make sure that Olivia was getting as much attention as she could want. Emily had been a great help in keeping Bethan on the hook, but now that his cock was in her mouth, he felt confident that he had plenty of leverage to keep her involved.

Truthfully, he didn’t care what happened with Bethan or Emily, for that matter. He only cared about giving Olivia more pleasure than she could stand. It had been some time since he concerned himself with the pleasure of his partner, given his penchant for… aggressive negotiations in the bedroom—but this was different, in ways he was nervous to even evaluate within himself.

This was not business as usual.

Diego’s fingers moved faster, as if he could rid himself of these traitorous thoughts by wringing an orgasm out of Olivia. He kissed her neck softly, dragging his teeth along the nape of her neck. When his mouth opened up again, his tongue writhed against her skin before his lips closed on yet another kiss.

Her clit was pinched between his index and middle fingers now, as he alternated pressure between those two digits, almost as if he were trying to shake her clit. At that same moment he was pinching her earlobe between his top teeth and his bottom lip.

“Cum for me,” he whispered, the words more felt than heard, “I want you to.”

 

[Curious_Muse]

Valentina looked at Chewy and his tattoos in confusion. She had never heard of the Tres Seis Mafia. For once she wished to have taken a greater interest in her father’s business, and, more importantly, in his enemies. She was smart enough to know that whatever fortune he made in drugs and other illicit trade, was, for the most part, money that other parties interested in selling the same commodities did not make. She also knew, even if her dad had always tried to shield her from such knowledge, that he had done sick shit to his enemies’ families to get what he wanted. The head of the Lopez cartel was ruthless, a killer, and he had pissed off a lot of people on his way to the top.

Was it possible that this was, somehow, payback? But then again, this idiot thug seemed to have no idea who she was. This contradiction did not keep her from panicking.

“Wait…,” she started to say, but was not allowed to finish as Chewy dragged her across the tiles towards the toilet. “Don’t you fucking da…,” were the last words before he shoved her face first into the porcelain bowl.

Valentina started thrashing, trying to rise above the water, but his grip was firm. Fuck. Holding on to the rim of the toilet with one hand, she tried to pry his fingers away with her other, scratching and slapping, but to no avail. The two slaps on her ass, coming in quick, hard succession, made her jump in pain and surprise. He was talking nonchalantly about “working together” and “white bitches”, and Valentina had no idea what he was talking about – her concentration being seriously tested by a growing lack of oxygen and the fact that he was pulling down her bikini bottoms. Fuck no! She tried to kick him, screaming in panic and fury, which only caused her to swallow water. She was retching, spluttering and coughing when he briefly pulled her up.

She barely registered the camera phone. Too busy trying to get away from him, slapping, kicking and scratching at whatever part of his body she was able to reach. “My father will kill you for this, pendejo!” Valentina coughed, the words barely audible. “He will cut of your dick and choke you with it, motherfu…” Her curses were cut off again when he dunked her head underwater.

Despite the fact that she had been quite wet and eager for Tom, this hurt. Valentina forced herself not to scream, afraid that she would swallow more toilet water. She clenched her teeth and curled her fingers so hard around the porcelain rim that they cramped up. The asshole was hung like a horse, and he did not hold back. Her first thought, as the he started to savagely fuck her, was – absurdly – Leon, the guy charged with keeping her safe. Her dad would butcher him for this. Valentina had always been worried that one day Leon would get in trouble for fucking the boss’ daughter, but what would actually get him killed was the fact that he had given in to two teenagers wanting to party without any minders.

Her second thought, triggered by growing panic, was of Diego Torres. He was around here somewhere. He would help her, he had to help her!

Shit. Valentina whimpered, desperately trying to suppress the screams rising from her throat, while he kept thrusting into her tight, abused pussy, brutally shoving her small body against the toilet, bruising her chest, her thighs, her knees. She wanted it to stop and did not know how, and she was aching for air. Her lungs felt like they were going to explode any second, every cell was humming with pain. The past thing she felt, before she almost passed out, was her pussy clamping down on his cock.

As he lifted her head from the water that time, she gasped and inhaled deeply and greedily. “No idea…you talking about…shole…,” she panted. “…dad…kill yo..” But clearly, he was neither intimidated nor quite done yet.

***

Bethan briefly hesitated, but she did not resist. Her lips parted obediently as Diego pushed her gently down on his cock. She struggled to take it in her mouth, licked the swollen head, getting him wet, suckling, so that she could move her lips around him before sinking deeper onto his cock. Her saliva dribbled from her lips as she did, her mouth snug and soft and wet for him. Her luscious copper curls fell over her shoulder as she started to even out her pace, sucking harder, while one of her hands was still jerking him, the other resting against the inside of his thigh.

Emily smiled appreciatively as she watched. Despite the British girl’s demure behavior and her obvious penchant for pussy, it was clear that this was not her first blowjob. Bethan’s dedication, the way her pouty lips stretched around the thick cock to accommodate it into her mouth, her eyes closed in concentration in an effort not to gag on it as it almost hit the back of her throat – all of that made Emily wish could face fuck the angelic redhead herself. And fuck, it was a beautiful cock she was working on! Emily, who had seen her fair share, had rarely come face to face with a cock this thick and this hard, and she was very curious to know what it would feel like to choke on it.

But for now she did not want to interrupt the choreography Diego had in mind, it looked way too delicious to be disturbed. The obscene sound of Bethan sucking his cock mixed with Olivia’s whimpers and moans as she was writhing against the hand pleasuring her. God, she looked amazing, Emily thought. The coke had worked its magic on her friend. Flushed and ecstatic, she was panting in Diego’s lap, her hands digging into his thigh. Olivia had given in entirely, she was his to take. Emily hoped that he would not turn down such a delicious gift.

His eyes met hers and she nodded. She liked that he considered her his accomplice, his partner in crime. Her hands moved away from Bethan who softly moaned in protest, before she lifted herself up on her knees in front of Olivia. The girl was now somewhat sandwiched between her and Diego, and Emily’s hand travelled up her naked leg and over her inner thigh, while the other caressed her naked arm. She gently dragged her nails over the soft skin, and Olivia shuddered. While Diego was pinching her earlobe, Emily kissed and licked her collarbone and up the other side of her neck, nibbling the sensitive skin. Her fingers, still playfully teasing the inside of Olivia’s thighs and across her crotch, where they briefly met Diego’s, separated only by the silk material of Olivia’s panties. Her other hand travelled from Olivia to Diego, her fingers in his hair, while she was gently sucking the skin of Olivia’s neck, making her moan softly, almost plaintively.

Olivia was beside herself. She was shivering with pleasure, it was more than she thought she was able to take. Trapped between Diego and Emily, there was nothing she could do but surrender. She was going to cum, and she was going to cum hard. Her slender body was tense with anticipation, and Diego’s words were all she needed to tumble over the edge into an earthshattering orgasm.

***

Kate stared at the screen of her phone while a complicated mixture of emotions struggled to gain the upper hand. The picture of Diego and Olivia that Emily had just posted to her timeline showed him passionately kissing her daughter, with a thumps up emoji as the only caption. Thankfully the picture did not show any more detail, and all other possibly involved body parts remained outside the frame. But Kate was under no illusions. She had gotten a taste of the man’s sexual appetite just a few hours earlier, and the memory of it was as vivid as the ache in her cunt.

He had promised not to touch her daughter before midnight. One glance at the clock on her phone confirmed that it was just before eleven.

Her finger hovered over the call button below his contact, the humiliating “Papi”. While Kate wanted nothing more than to save her darling daughter from the clutches of that man, she did not dare to disobey and call him before the agreed hour. Paul and she had decided that the images of Amy and her newly acquired luxury goods were proof enough to point the cartel’s hitman in her direction. Surely the mob did not require the clues to hold up in a court of law. Now Paul was in his office, feverishly going through his business partner’s accounts and transactions hoping to find more tangible evidence. Kate was tasked to phone Diego at midnight to tell him about their suspicions. They hoped that he would take care of the rest and get that bitch to confess. They would finally be free of the looming threat of the cartel’s retaliation.

Kate refreshed Emily’s timeline, but there was nothing else. No further hint of what was going on at the party, and if her daughter was safe. She stared at Diego’s picture, scared and seething with hate. That bastard had promised not to touch her! She did not dare to imagine what this sick asshole might be able to do to her innocent darling daughter in one whole hour.

And then, for a brief, guilty moment, she lingered on the memory of him fucking her in the bedroom of the house, making her cum like she never had before in her life. What the fuck was wrong with her? But the thought, shameful and unbidden, floated back to the surface of her mind. Would she, when she saw him again in one hour, beg him to fuck her again?