The end result was that Arthur's father resolved that if he could pay his way through school by working hard, then so could Arthur. This was not, strictly speaking, true, but Arthur did his best. He still had a few loans he'd need to take care of after graduating, but luckily, he'd have a good-paying job right out the gate. His field needed people, and he had his savings.
At his father's demand, he saved every penny he'd ever been given as a gift, a considerable amount of money given the upper-middle-class wealth from his mother's side. Every Christmas card with a hundred dollar bill inside it, every birthday card with cash or check, instead of an object that might have required some thought or emotional investment in Arthur as a person, was quickly seized and stashed away, invested, and saved in Arthur's name.
When he turned eighteen, that fund was turned over to Arthur to use as a nest egg while he did his best to make more money from that sum. All in all, a decent strategy. It afforded Arthur a way to live a comfortable middle-class life, so long as he did everything he could to continue making money and touching the interest from the fund as little as possible and the principal not at all.
His parents, on the other hand, followed his mother's guiding principles: Money was not necessarily made to be squirreled away but displayed through what it could purchase. Their home was grand, a verifiable gated middle-class mansion of a house, with a long paved drive up to the front door. It was a far cry from any of the estates on TV, but Arthur's entire apartment could fit inside a fraction of their house all the same. Arthur stepped out of his car and headed up the unfamiliar front stairs.
This wasn't the house he'd grown up in. That was a large apartment in the city, albeit much smaller than this McMansion. This was farther out in the suburbs, much farther, almost rural, with six or seven bedrooms and expansive grounds. You couldn't see any neighbors at all, and the house sat far back enough from any street or road that you couldn't make it out from outside the gates despite how well-lit it was. The trees that surrounded the house kept the stone facade out of view until the drive turned, and you were nearly driving into the circle at the front door or the garage off to the far left side of the house.
Arthur rang the doorbell of the imposing cherry wood front door but was standing there for a while with no answer or response. After a moment, he tried the handle, and the door opened to him just as his mother strode into the lemon-scented tiled foyer.
"Arty!" She said with a large and growing smile as she threw her arms open. His mother was dressed casually, for her, in a long blue dress.
Arthur smiled and accepted the hug from his mother, who was always a little more demonstrative of her love for him than his father. They both loved their son, but how Arthur perceived love did not always align with how his parents chose to show it. He supposed no family was immune to that. Nor are they impervious to the various strifes and frictions that might arise from living in close quarters, relatively speaking, with one another while simultaneously progressing through multiple stages of immaturity. His parents were in their twenties when they had him, and he was obviously in childhood for many of their early years together.
"Mom." Arthur returned the hug.
"So glad you could make it." She said with a smile. "How is school? Tell me everything."
And so he did as the two walked from the foyer, through the living area, dining room, kitchen, and finally out to the back patio. Well, he did not tell her everything. He told her everything he deemed appropriate to say to a mother, which excluded everything sexual. He told her that work was going well, and he was likely to take his boss' job within the next year, which was possible but not as probable as he made it seem for her benefit. His classes and grades continued well, and he maintained the 4.0 GPA she continually bragged about to her friends. His theater endeavors were going well, and they were going to do a montage of one-act plays this fall, followed by a full musical in the spring if Yvonne got her way or a whole play in the spring if Arthur got his. Either would probably be a comedy.
His mother listened politely as they walked and gestured toward the pool house when they arrived. "Good, good." She said. "Now, you go on and get changed and enjoy the pool. Your father is running late, and I'll have to greet our guests when they arrive."
"Oh. I don't mind hanging out with you and talking while we wait. We can-"
"No, no, don't be silly." His mother shook her head. "Try the hot tub. We just got it replaced, and the jets are ten times stronger. You deserve a nice chance to relax from working so hard."
Arthur laughed at how true that statement might actually be and how nice a massage from some hot water jets sounded against a back that was tight, sore, and still, a little scratched up between the three women he'd slept with in the last twenty-four hours. "Alright." He yielded as his mom practically shoved him toward the poolhouse. "I'm going."
His mom smiled, then turned back into the house and was gone by the time he'd reached the poolhouse door. He undressed, hanging up his clothes and folding them neatly so he could wear them again, took up a towel from the closet, and stepped into his trunks. He stretched and made his way to the hot tub. It was already heated, but the jets were off, waiting. The controls weren't the same as the last time he was here, but he figured them out quickly enough and hopped in as the water started to bubble from the jets. He sank into the seat and sighed.
"Holy shit." He muttered. The jets felt like the hands of a particularly frustrated Swedish masseuse who did nothing but massage and power lift in their daily life. His muscles relaxed at the hot water, but the beating they took from the jets pounded out knots he didn't even know he had, and the more gentle vibrations of the bench he sat on soothed his aches.
The house looked nice from his vantage point at the far end of the back patio area. The part of the patio nearest the house was red tile until it gave way to the pool's concrete. It was a large, but not Olympic-sized, swimming pool. Still, it was large enough to contemplate swimming some lazy laps in after his soak in the hot tub. The grill was off to the left, though it was less of a grill and more of an outdoor kitchen walled in a fire pit and lounge chairs between itself and the pool.
The outdoor dining table by the house was extended and rectangular, with three chairs on either side and one on each end. They all looked padded and comfortable. Behind him was a bit of grass and a tall garden hedge wrapped around the three sides of the patio the house didn't cover. In front of the hedge was a flower bed that was wide enough to house a variety of flowers arranged in order of height. They had an excellent landscaper Arthur was sure his father underpaid, and his mother overtipped. He wondered it didn't reek of chlorine, but the flowers and anti-pest lanterns scattered around offset it. It was very peaceful back here. Meditative, almost.
He knew he shouldn't fall asleep in the hot tub and was in no danger of it during the stimulation, but once the jets turned off. The hot water seeped into his bones to relax his body. He closed his eyes and was nearly dreaming when a soft footstep on the hard concrete by the pool caught his attention.
He sat up quickly and opened his eyes, half-panicked at being half-asleep but realizing as he was startled that he was at his parents' house and perfectly safe. He expected to see his mother or father when he brought his eyes forward, but instead, he was startled to see someone he hadn't seen in years.
Lynn Barrera.
She was the girl from high school that every straight guy or lesbian wanted to fuck. Other women were hot, beautiful, or pretty, but Lynn Barrera made them all look like gnarled stumps next to her. She was accused of every kind of plastic surgery over the years by her and Arthur's peer group, but according to her, her mother, and every official word that anyone could find, her beauty was all natural. Everyone loved her, wanted her, or wanted to be her. Over the years, all that attention had flagellated her into someone cruel and twisted.
Arthur was not immune to her charms. He'd loved her with every part of his heart, mind, and soul when they were younger, long before she was pretty. They grew up together. Their parents were 'friends' in the way that people who worked for different parts of the same company but occasionally saw each other at conventions and training were friends. Still, when they were tiny, they'd lived close by one another. They played together nearly every day of every summer and sat next to each other in class every day of every school year. In all their games and time together, she was his princess, and he was her shining knight. She was his Guinevere.
Then puberty happened, and while it blessed Lynn in ways no mortal might see outside of movies or television, it cursed Arthur in direct proportion. He was not a total troll in high school, but only because he did not live under a bridge and did not make a habit of trying to eat any Hobbits. His long hair phase was not particularly flattering. Though he was no more acned or awkward than anyone else, he was still acned, awkward, and far more overweight than he ever really admitted, even to himself. He'd transformed his body after going to college, and he worked hard every day to maintain what he had. The chiseled, well-kempt adonis rising out of the hot tub that looked surprised to see her was unrecognizable from the hoodie-clad try-hard who never quite fit in with her Mean Girl Clique who bowed to her and made his life a living hell.
She'd gone from his best friend to his tormentor the summer just before high school, and she kicked him whenever she saw he was down. He was easy pickings. He would let her do it. He never stood up to her and never put up a fight. She could tear him apart in front of her friends, even go so far as to tell him to kill himself, and he wouldn't do so much as raise his voice at her. He would look sad, turn away from her, and walk away while they laughed at the thought that he might be crying or masturbating in equal measure.
She knew his secrets, and his dreams. She knew what to tease him about to hurt him in every way imaginable, and she'd done it repeatedly to the laughter of her new friends. She'd been cruel and mean, and for a while, Arthur felt like he deserved it because he was everything she teased him about. He swallowed every cruel truth like a barbed sword and kept them inside to play in his head whenever his brain decided he was feeling too happy. It'd taken a lot of personal growth to forget some of those, and even then, he still thought about them sometimes, late at night or at random times during the day. Seeing her now, he could feel each one in the pit, restless, anticipating the next barb or abuse she might hurl his way.
Imagine his surprise when he didn't recognize the look she gave him as he stepped out of the hot tub anymore than she recognized him. It might have helped her ignorance that she didn't look at his eyes. She looked at his squared and chiseled chest, his round and perfect shoulders, the abs that his taught and flawless skin stretched over into a sharp V, the bottom of which was hidden by the low waist of his short and somewhat tight swim trunks.
He wanted to say something perfect. He wanted to say something equal parts impressive and cruel. He must have thought about what he would say to her if given a chance to give her a piece of his mind a thousand times. Yet, right now, he found he was so angry he could do nothing but shake. He didn't speak. He went to move past her.
"Sorry, uh..." Lynn started. "I'm looking for Arty? Is he in the pool house?"
Arthur turned and glared at her. She didn't see his glare or was willfully ignorant of it. Unlike him, she was fully dressed. She wore jeans that hugged every curve from her sensible shoes to her flared hips and perfectly round peach-shaped ass. Her low-waisted jeans gave him a view of a small gap of flesh that ended just above her pierced belly button on her flat, well-toned abdomen. She didn't have the cut abs that he did, but there was just a hint of the present behind the flawlessly smooth surface of her stomach. Her breasts were covered by a stretchy top that looked like someone hadn't finished making a t-shirt. It complimented her bust nicely, hanging out a good distance away from her stomach at the bottom.
Her mouth was open, but she tried to work it as best she could. "Are you one of his friends from college? His mom mentioned he might be bringing some friends to dinner."
They stood a few feet from one another when Arthur stopped and stared at her. She stared at him. Then she hesitated, looked shyly at her feet as she shifted her stance in what he was sure was a practiced feint at feeling small or uncertain, and then she offered her hand for a shake. "I'm Lynn. A friend of his from high school. Well, since childhood, really." She corrected herself as her vulnerable stance turned seductive, thrusting out a well-shaped hip. "But we went to high school together."
"Go fuck yourself." Arthur said, speaking for the first time, though it was more of a growl than speech. His perfect teeth were practically grinding themselves to dust under the strength of his tightly clenched jaw. And every muscle so relaxed in the hot tub was now tight, coiled beneath the skin as though he were about to leap and run away like a wild animal or Tarzan into the nearby trees.
Lynn looked shocked, absolutely, devastatingly, surprised to hear the words come out of his mouth, but then her expression was not half so shocked as the one that overtook it when her ears recognized the voice to which the words belonged. Her mouth opened but did not form any words of her own. It hung there, her chin limp and useless, as Arthur turned, showing her his back, and walked away.
Lynn's eyes were wide, her mouth agape, and she stood frozen on the spot. He was already six paces away when she sputtered to life again and managed to utter a cry of "Arty?!?"
Arthur felt something in him snap. His mother called him Arty. It was the name everyone used to call him when he was little, including Lynn. As he grew up, people started calling him Arthur. He introduced himself as Arthur. Only his mother and a few older family members called him Arty. To everyone else, he was Arthur. Everyone, except Lynn and her fucking teasing, taunting friends from high school, who never said it without a barb attached. They said it with a ton of spite and not an ounce of respect.
"It's Arthur to you!" He shouted back over his shoulder. "Not Arty! Not Art! Not the king of White Castle!" He threw back an old insult that he'd heard directed his way more than once during high school, originating from the goddess Lynn herself. "TO YOU, MY NAME IS ARTHUR!" He shouted back at her just before he stepped into the kitchen and slammed the sliding glass door behind him so hard it sounded like a thunder crack bouncing off the marble countertops and marble tile floor. He worried that he'd broken the glass for a brief moment, but when he glanced over his shoulder, he saw that the glass was still intact. However, the wood in the frame was splintered enough that Lynn could not dislodge it when she tugged against it a moment later.
Arthur stormed through the dining room on his way to the front door, nearly blind with rage. Or at least blind enough to be oblivious to his parents and Lynn's, sitting in chairs around the sitting room enjoying glasses of dark red wine.
"Arty, honey, what's wrong?" His mother asked, immediately seeing the expression on his face and moving to cut him off since he looked like he was going to punch someone in the face, and, not knowing who, she thought it best to stop him from coming closer to anyone but herself who she knew was never the offending party.
"Nothing." Arthur growled as he came to a sudden stop, recognizing for the first time that there were other people in the room, much less his parents and their guests. His cheeks were red with frustration. His mother's were red with wine. Lynn's parents looked at him agape and whispered to each other for a moment. His expression darkened. He knew just what they were whispering, too, without hearing it.
"Come on, let's talk in the-" His mom said as she started to steer him back toward the kitchen.
"NO." Arthur held firm, and to her surprise, his mother found that the gentle movement she'd undertaken was immediately arrested by a simple flex of his legs holding him in place. "I'm sorry." He said after a breath. "Something's come up. I have to go back to my apartment right away. I-" He looked behind him for a moment. "I left my things in the pool house. I need you to grab them and bring them to my car. I'll be there, waiting." He told his mother.
She looked surprised to hear such a commanding tone coming from him, but he didn't give her a second to protest before he started moving again and was through the room and out of the house before they'd all recovered from the shock of his sudden entrance and exit into their conversation.
"He didn't even say hello." His father said after a moment of silence reigned among them. Then he laughed. "Well, you know how young people are." He said to Lynn's parents. "Every market fluctuation is the end of the world." He laughed, Arthur's wife laughed, Lynn's father laughed, Lynn's mother smiled politely and looked at the doorway the young man had just exited through.
Arthur reached his car and remembered that it was locked. He sighed and leaned against it. Waiting. He figured he'd give his mother a few minutes, and then if she didn't come out, he would try and figure out a way to go around the side of the house to the pool house without being spotted by their little party of guests, and then he could grab his things and leave.
Unfortunately, Lynn seemed to have much the same idea when the back door could not yield to her entreaties to open. She couldn't pull it open, and Arthur's mother couldn't get it open either, so Lynn signaled to the side of the house, which she meant to mean to inform Arthur's mother that Lynn was going to circumnavigate the house while Lynn's mother took as a suggestion that she should do the same. So together, they appeared in Arthur's vision, both empty-handed.
"Arthur!" Lynn called out as she spotted him. "Wait!"
"FUCK YOU!" Arthur shouted back, which caused his mother to recoil in terror. No, not terror, he realized. Horror. His mother was not scared of him, she was his mother, but she was horrified by his behavior.
"Arty!" His mother yelled between a honk and a hiss that any goose might have given.
Arthur knew that was his cue to look abashed and apologize to his mother's guests, but he did not take his cue. He set his mouth in a firm line, crossed his arms, and waited.
His mother stormed forward, reached for his ear, and grabbed it. To his credit, he did not let it bend him down. He would not show weakness in front of Lynn if his mother had hauled off and drop-kicked him in the face.
"You apologize right now!" His mother hissed. "You're being very rude to our guests, and I went through a lot of trouble to set up this little dinner for you two!"
It was Arthur's turn to look as surprised as Lynn had moments ago and as horrified as his mother had moments ago, in equal measure. "WHAT?" He bellowed.
"You heard me." His mother said sternly, adopting the tone she used to use whenever the typically well-behaved Arty had become surly, otherwise unruly, or downright toddlerish during his raising.
"I will not." Arthur growled out between his clenched teeth. "And I will not be joining you for dinner. I'm leaving."
"This is not how I raised you to behave." His mother reminded him. "If you don't get into that house this instant and sincerely apologize, then...." He glared at his mother with a look of pure malice that she'd never seen in his eyes before, giving her a moment's pause. "Arty... what's wrong?" She asked suddenly. "This isn't like you. I've never seen you so angry. Are you on..." She suddenly dropped to a whisper that even Arthur had trouble hearing. "Steroids?" She returned to average volume. "Or something?"
"No." Arthur said firmly. He shook his head and glared at Lynn. "That bitch made my life a living hell for years. YEARS. I will not be in the same room with her if I can help it." He explained. "And I can help it." He didn't look at Lynn, who, to her credit, had the decency to be blushing rose-red and look extremely ashamed. "My apologies to you and dad, but I cannot, and will not, be staying for dinner. Now let go of my ear. I'll collect my things, and we'll catch up some other time."
His mother looked angry, but she could see the look in her son's eyes. She'd seen that look twice before, and she knew that short of being able to physically overpower him, which was an impossibility now, there was no chance of getting him to sit down for dinner with them. She might as well ask him to commit some atrocity or pick up his car and walk home.
"Fine." She said finally as she let go of his ear. "Go and get your things. I'll make your apologies. And you and I will be speaking about this very soon. You have embarrassed yourself and us tonight." She said in frustration as he stormed past her. "I hope you're proud of yourself."
Was he proud of his behavior? No. Yet, this was the best possible behavior he could hope to exhibit. Seeing her. Seeing Lynn and seeing her smile? Seeing her look at him as though he were the meal on offer here, not whatever they were throwing on the grill? He should have been drunk on the power trip. Instead, he'd wanted to murder her. Okay, maybe not murder. He was a pacifist and believed that violence was never the answer. And yet, the thought of bodily throwing her into the pool and hoping that she never learned how to swim for all those times she laid out in her bikinis at the pool or beach was dangerously satisfying.
He stormed through the grass, back onto the rear patio, into the pool house, grabbed his things without changing, and returned to his car. His mother and Lynn were not there when he came back, having returned to the house. He looked toward the front door, but seeing no one, he slammed his car door shut behind him, started the engine, and left as quickly as his temper would allow.
He seethed in the car on the way home. Uncontrollably angry and in full knowledge that the mere sight of her shouldn't have enraged him that way. He was acting like a child. He knew that, which made him angrier with himself, which did not help abate his anger. His entire body flushed with the heat of it, and he could feel tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. He was so angry that he could cry because, as a man, there were so few acceptable ways to purge one's tears. Yet also, as a man, anger was never an acceptable emotion. Emotions themselves were considered a weakness among his people. Usually, that joke made him and his buddies laugh. Right now, he had to wonder how much of it was really a joke.
He didn't want to go home. He couldn't return to the apartment and be this angry. Selene was still there, and she wasn't expecting him this early. She'd think something was wrong because it was, and she'd want him to talk about it like that would help. He didn't want to talk about it. He wanted to forget it as quickly as possible so he could go back to believing that he didn't have any emotional issues he needed to address. Then he could just enjoy a life where four different women wanted to fuck him in rotation.
Maybe a good angry hate-fuck would get it out of his system. Not with Lynn, obviously. That would likely end with him in prison since things like rape and murder were still illegal in every decent country and even some indecent ones. Someone who could take a good rough fuck, though? Maybe Kat? No, she was done for today, and she didn't need to know that he was having problems. She'd think he was unstable, call the whole thing off, and convince Selene to break up with him too.
Not that Selene was his girlfriend.
He shook the steering wheel in frustration and gave an audible scream of frustration. That was it. He turned the music up as loud as it would go, blaring some kind of rock that he didn't pay attention to at all. It was not metal enough to warrant the amount of screaming he did under and over it in nonsensical rage until, finally, all the energy left him through his lungs, and his throat was a little hoarse.
When he stopped, he realized he'd passed his apartment building a few minutes ago. He didn't know where he was at all, really. It took him a second to get his bearings, and he pulled into a bar parking lot to look it up on his GPS. The sun was nearly set, and the lights marking the bar "O'Malley's" had just lit up. Despite the name, it didn't advertise as an Irish pub but looked more like an upscale Italian place. He wasn't far from home, but he didn't want to go back there right now. He was still wearing his swim trunks, with his suit and everything crumpled in the seat next to him. He had a text from his mother and one from Selene.
He opened the one from Selene first. It was a picture of an empty glass of water, followed by a smiley face emoji and a heart emoji. He didn't smile, but he was glad she listened to him. Without texting Selene back, he opened the text from his mother.
Mom: I'm sorry. I didn't know what happened to you and Lynn in high school. I thought you two had just grown apart. I never would have tried to set you up with her if I knew you hated her.
Arthur was too empty of energy to be as shocked by his mother's confession as he felt it rightly deserved. He didn't need to be set up! He had four women wanting to fuck him any time he called! Well, three. Well, one, but the other three were just as likely to be down. Then again, his mother didn't know that. They hadn't really talked about his romantic life. He was going to update her on it but hadn't gotten around to it. She knew it'd been a while since he had broken up with Lori and that he would try to put himself back out there. That was the last they'd spoken of it nearly a month ago.
He took one deep breath in and then another. He practiced his breathing techniques for a few minutes until his grip on the steering wheel finally loosened enough that he felt he wasn't in danger of snapping it when he moved his arm away.
He texted his mother back.
Arthur: What did she tell you?
Mom: She told me she teased you in high school, and it got out of hand. She said you had every right to hate her for it, and she's really sorry. She was trying to find you to apologize to you personally, but she didn't get the chance because she didn't recognize you at first, so I gave her your email.
Arthur: You what?
Mom: Well, apparently, you blocked her on everything else? She's tried reaching out on social media and texting and calling you multiple times.
Arthur: She told you this, and you immediately recognized this as a sign that I did not want to talk to her, so you gave her my email?
Mom: Stop being such a baby. She just wants to apologize to you. Talk to you. You two used to be such good friends.
Arthur: Yeah, when we were five.
Mom: You're acting like you're five.
Arthur sighed.
Arthur: I'm sorry I ruined your dinner.
Mom: You didn't. We still had dinner. You only ruined it for yourself. She's still here. Do you want me to pass the phone to her so you can talk to her and apologize?
If Arthur's mother had seen the glare that erupted in his eyes, she would have been immediately aware of her misstep. As it was, she was only aware that she could only pretend to be making drinks at the bar in the sitting room for so long before she had to return to the dining room and listen to her husband's fourth retelling of the same story they'd all been there to witness in the first place.
Arthur: No.
He flipped back to Selene's texts and sent her a thumbs-up emoji.
Master: Good Girl. Now drink some more. And order Dinner.
Slut: Yes, Sir.
And with that, he looked up from his phone. There was a woman stopped in front of his car in the parking lot, looking at him. He looked back at her. She looked uncertain about something and then stormed up to his window and knocked on it. He rolled it down.
"Are you here for the Derby party?" She asked.
"Uh... no." He said, shaking his head.
"Well... could you be?"
"Excuse me?" Arthur asked.
"The guy we hired bailed because he got sick or something, so the company refunded us because they're overbooked, and we're calling around trying to find a replacement right now because the party starts in a few minutes, and here you are! We'll pay double whatever the other party would pay you tonight." She went on in rapid-fire.
"Uh..." Arthur said, trying to puzzle out what she was talking about.
"Triple." She said in a hurry and practically threw a wad of hundred-dollar bills threw his car window and into his lap and front seats.
"Sure." He said as he looked down at the cash and then back up to her. Then, realizing that she might be asking him for a whole range of services that were illegal to provide for money, he added in his best Pippin-in-Rivendell impression: "Where are we going?" And then. "And what am I doing?"
The woman smiled gleefully, clapped her hands, and then pointed to the bar above them. "We've rented out the whole bar." She said as she gestured to it. "You go ahead and get dressed, then come around the back. I'll let you in. Do you have your own music?"
It suddenly occurred to him what he must look like wearing nothing but a small red pair of red trunks in the middle of a bar parking lot and what services the not-unattractive woman had just purchased from the man she thought was an exotic dancer.
"Uh..." He answered. "I do not."
"That's okay, that's okay. I'll set up a playlist on my phone." She said as she waived away the least of her concerns. "What's your name? Your stage name, I mean."
"Uh..." He paused, trying to think up a stage name on the spot. "Tommy Sinns." He joked, but she just nodded, so he rolled with it. "Astronaut, plumber, talent scout, fireman, whatever." He shrugged.
She smiled like a child at a fireworks display. "Do you have a fireman's costume?"
"Uh..." He looked around him. "Not with me, no. I've just got my... business executive costume...." He lied. "But there's a Spirit of Halloween store just down the block if you can give me like... fifteen minutes?" Was he really doing this? He couldn't take this woman's money. He wasn't a stripper. He knew how to dance, a little, sure, and he could take off his clothes, and he could probably give these women a good time, and one last thrill before whoever it was in their party got married, but there was no way he was going to do this, right? This was like something out of a sitcom.
And like a sitcom, it would make for one hell of a story by the time it was over. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to have a once-in-a-lifetime experience that he would never be able to enjoy otherwise. He had to do it, right? When you looked at it like that. Besides, what was it that Mindy said? They were in college. They were supposed to try new things and have fun.
The night itself was a blur of surprisingly good times. He took some of the cash she'd thrown at him, bought a costume from the spirit-of-Halloween store down the block, and returned with time to spare.
The bar was small but elegant. Its atmosphere might typically have been a lovely place for a date. Right now, though, its decorations for the bachelorette party were all penis-themed. Still, it had surprisingly clean bathrooms. He used the men's room to change. The bride-to-be, the older woman's niece, was a lovely young blonde who almost reminded Arthur of Selene, though she was nowhere near as shameless. She blushed as red as Arthur's fire truck helmet when he put it in front of his junk and gestured for her to peel away his red trunks.
Despite the alcohol and the general hands-on nature of drunken women who assumed anyone in that good of shape was probably gay and therefore safe. It was a great time until the one latecomer to the party finally arrived and sat down to join her fellow bridesmaids in the raucous fun of doing a belly button shot off the stripers rock hard abs. Or at least licking up the shot's worth of alcohol that they poured out over his abs as he lay on the erected stage wearing nothing but a strategically placed fireman's helmet that lifted off and tilted just enough to show the base of his erect pole.
The latecomer stumbled forward as she was finally let through to take her turn, dumped the shot on him, and dove down to lick it up with the cheers from her fellow bridesmaids whooping and hollering behind her. It was only when she finished that she looked up to see his face, which had momentarily looked down to see who the newcomer was. The sister of the bride. His actual boss: Beth.
"ARTHUR?" The shout temporarily pierced even the loud music coming off the stage.
Arthur chuckled nervously and, for a fleeting moment, thought about denying it. "Heh. Hey... Boss."
She flushed a crimson red so fast that she looked like she was trying to somehow transform into a firetruck. Arthur, for his part, was enjoying himself a little too much and was too entertained by her embarrassment to be embarrassed himself. He laughed and reclined again, putting his hands up behind his head. "Next!"
Beth sputtered and turned away. "Oh my god!" She yelled to no one in particular. She looked back at him on the stage and quickly turned away again, hiding her blushing face with her hand. She knew he was of age. She knew she was only a few years older than he was. Yet, he was a student, and she'd graduated. He was a supervisor, and she was a manager. His manager, to be specific. There was no reality where licking a shot of Tequila and lime off your subordinate's lower abs did not make it to HR, right?
Her blush did not fade, and she turned away, practically screaming as her mind flipped through all the possibilities of how her life might now be different. It was a roller coaster of emotion, and when she looked back at Arthur, it looked like she was on this roller coaster alone. He was relaxed, smiling, enjoying himself, as Beth's sister, the bride-to-be, snuck her hand under his not-so-cleverly-placed fireman's helmet while she licked where Beth had licked a moment ago.
"Okay, ladies. I think that's it for this bottle." Arthur announced, mercifully cutting the bride-to-be off as she kept licking, as though she were searching for Tequila that she must have licked up five or six licks ago. There was a general "Aw" from the crowd, but he assured them he would be back for another dance in a moment. He just had to change costumes. This was met with a drunken cheer of approval that may have easily been confused with the sounds of several distorted seagulls.
Arthur bowed, keeping the helmet in place, and made his exit, baring his ass to a general cheer of women as Beth failed to look away.
She gave it a moment's thought and then stormed toward the back. She had the decency to knock but pushed into the one-stall bathroom anyway. The rules of etiquette shouldn't have to apply when walking in on someone you've already seen naked when you know they're getting dressed.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Beth hissed.
"Uh..." Arthur paused for a moment and then had to think about it. "Inspecting this fire alarm?" He joked.
Beth didn't laugh.
"Look, they needed a dancer. I happened to be there. I-" He paused for a second, still trying to work out exactly how this happened in his head. "I decided why the fuck not? I need something to cheer me up. So, here I am."
"So you're not, like, a legit stripper. You're just a guy they roped into this at the bar?" Beth asked, both confused and accusatory, as though he were trying to pull a scam or get away with something he shouldn't.
"Well, tonight's the first time I've done it for money, but after two routines that I may have borrowed from actual musical numbers and four lap dances in nothing but a very uncomfortable thong with a little tuxedo on the front of it - I can say that I am a legit stripper. I'll update my file at the office if you like." Arthur smiled.
"This is not funny!" Beth hissed. "We could get in a lot of trouble for this?"
Arthur paused as if she'd said something that made no sense. "Uh... we can?" He asked.
"Yes!" Beth hissed. "You're not supposed to be a uh... uh...." She gestured to the costume he was half wearing and did her best to keep her eyes on his face.
"Policeman?" He asked.
"Stripper!" She yelled. "You're my employee, not a gigolo!"
"Hey." Arthur said sternly. "I'm not a gigolo. I'm just dancing and showing a bride-to-be a good time. You're the one who is spending an awful amount of time alone with the stripper in the bathroom during the bachelorette party."
Beth's eyes went wide as she realized what he was suggesting.
"And there's nothing saying we can't have part-time jobs outside the office or anything like that." He added.
"Well, I'm pretty sure that licking tequila off your employee's abs is explicitly not allowed in the employee handbook." Beth stomped her foot.
Arthur laughed. "If you can find an exact reference to that scenario in the employee handbook, I will sign an official apology, apologizing for letting you lick tequila off my abs. But, honestly, I don't think HR thought to cover that specific scenario. I think we're fine. We can't get into a sexual or romantic relationship, obviously, since you're my direct superior, but so long as you didn't come in here to do that-"
"I didn't!"
"Then we're fine!" Arthur assured her.
Beth frowned but had to admit that he might be right.
"I promised them one more routine, then I'll go, and we will never speak of this again. Deal?" Arthur asked.
"Deal." Beth shook her head and left without shaking Arthur's offered hand. It was probably best, as that left him holding the tear-away pants with only one hand.
Beth stepped out of the bathroom and into the hallway, where one party-goer was ducking into the lady's room. She gave Beth a conspiratorial wink as they passed one another. "Hot, right?" She asked. "Is he still in there?"
"Yes." Beth answered. "I mean no!" She flustered. "I mean, I don't know! Yes. He's still in there!"
"Did you two..." The other woman moved her hand as if brushing her teeth.
"No!" Beth slapped at her arm.
"Oh." The other woman looked disappointed, then sighed. "Gay, huh? How disappointing."
"You-" Beth fumed. "I-" She changed her mind. "He-"
"He's so cute." The other woman went on. "He looks young too." She winked. "I hope he's legal!"
"He's twenty-two!" Beth volunteered.
"Woo!" The other woman cheered. "Shame he's gay." She shrugged and went into the lady's room.
Beth smacked her forehead so hard with the palm of her hand that she actually hurt herself in her confusion.
Arthur stepped out of the men's bathroom dressed like a cross between a crossing guard, a security guard, and a police officer. It probably didn't matter. It was too small for him. The costume material was so thin anyway, and Beth could hardly help but think how easily his muscles could tear it if they flexed in just the right, or wrong, way. Were those handcuffs on his hip? She looked up, spun away from him, and disappeared to the bar where she ordered the most enormous, hardest drink she could afford.
Arthur took the stage, the lights went down, the music went up, and the party started. A few women got too drunk for their own good by the night's end, but their friends took care of them. After her initial drinks, Beth abstained to keep from making a fool of herself with her subordinate around. On the job, Arthur was not drinking at all despite the many drinks offered to him. He lied about some company policy and stuck to it for the night until finally, it was time to go.
"It's been fun." He said to the woman who paid him initially. "Thank you very much." She said as she tipped him with even more cash. "Do you have a card or anything?"
"Uh..." He looked around. "Not on me, no, sorry."
"Well, if you ever need more gigs." She said as she fished a card out of her purse. "Call me. I do some event planning, things like this. If you have any catering experience, we're always looking for waiters, etcetera."
"Sure thing." Arthur nodded. "Thanks."
"Big plans for all the extra cash you made tonight?" She spared a glance down to his g-string.
"Maybe I'll throw a party." He joked with a careless shrug. "Seriously though, it's been fun." He waved his farewell and graciously took his exit.
"Such a nice kid." Beth's aunt said as she took the seat next to her niece after giving her card and tip to the stripper.
"Ugh." Beth sighed.
"What?" Her aunt asked.
"Nothing." Beth said with a shake of her head. "I'm just really not looking forward to Monday."
Arthur was laughing the entire way back to his apartment. It wasn't until he parked that he bothered to check his phone. He had missed messages from a few different people: Selene, Mindy, and his mother. He read his mother's first, hoping that whatever was there that might upset him wouldn't be enough to ruin his mood, and if it did put a dent in it, he could recover with the other messages.
Mom: She left her number and contact info. I'm forwarding it to you. Also, your father really wanted to talk to you tonight about a business opportunity. Do you have time to talk to him tonight?
Arthur thought about it for a moment. He pulled up his dad's contact info and sent him a text.
Arthur: Hey, Mom said you wanted to talk?
Father: Yes. You have a few minutes? I'll call.
Arthur: Sure.
No sooner had he hit send than the phone in his hand rang. He answered it and lifted it to his ear. "Hey, dad." Arthur said. "What's up?"
"How'd you like more free time?" His dad asked.
"Uh..." Arthur sensed a trap, but he wasn't sure why. "Are you into pyramid schemes all of a sudden?"
"What?" His father asked. "No. Don't be stupid. I had an idea."
"Go on." Arthur prompted.
"Wise guy." His dad muttered. "Look. Your mom and I are thinking about moving closer to the city. It's easier for work, a bit more expensive, but things are going well, and you don't visit as much as you used to."
"Dad." Arthur protested.
"Not a complaint!" His dad said immediately. "You're a grown man. You shouldn't be coming to visit your parents every weekend. You should be out there trying to make your fortune in the world."
"...Right." Arthur said.
"Right." His father agreed with himself. "So, my point is. Your mother and I are thinking about moving closer to the city, but your mother wants to hang on to the house for when we're older and want to retire. It's a nice neighborhood, we've already made a chunk of the payments, and if we sell it, we'll only have to repurchase it at a higher price later or be out of luck."
"With you so far." Arthur commented when there was a break.
"So, your mother and I want you to live here and manage the place while we rent it out." His father said, letting the statement sit for a second before continuing. "What do you think?"
"I..." Arthur paused. "I don't know."
"You don't know." His father repeated as if repeating the answer for his mother's benefit. "What do you mean you don't know?"
"I have a job." Arthur explained.
"What, that marketing job? That's not long-term, and we both know it. You're not even a manager there." His dad quipped.
"Yeah, but-" Arthur protested.
"And it's not like you'd be working forty hours or anything. We've got six bedrooms and a seventh in the finished basement that could technically be an in-law suite. The cleaning service comes once a week, and so do the landscapers. You could live here, not have to pay rent and have the Master Suite if you want it. You could vet the other tenants. They'll probably be other students at that college of yours. Just not a fraternity, you know? You'd get paid a share of the rents, and you'd be on call, more or less, to deal with anything that breaks or goes wrong. Like this back door that leads out to my patio that seems to have splintered shut somehow. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
Arthur thought about it, doing some quick number crunching. "Who determines the tenants?" Arthur asked.
"You would, to a point. Your Mother would sign the lease agreements officially, but so long as they're fiscally solvent, and you're reasonably sure they won't throw any ragers at the house, we should be good." His father said.
Arthur was silent for a moment.
"Well?" His father asked. "What do you think?"
"I wouldn't have to pay rent?" He asked, just to verify.
"Well..." His father hesitated. He heard his mother's voice in the background. "No. Your mother says you won't have to pay any rent. So long as you take a drug test."
"A drug test?" Arthur asked, confused. "Dad, I'm not-"
"I know." His father cut him off. "But it's a legal thing."
"Uh-huh." Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm not on steroids, dad."
"No judgment if you are." His dad assured him. "Well, none from me anyway."
"I'm not-" Arthur sighed. "Okay. Write it up."
"Okay?" His dad asked.
"Write up the contract. I'll look it over. We'll do it official and on paper."
"That's my boy." His dad said cheerfully. "You missed a good dinner, by the way. I had a steak picked out just for you. We were gonna celebrate the whole deal, assuming you said yes."
"Well, we'll cook it up when we sign the paperwork," Arthur said. "I still need to look over the contract before it's official."
His dad sounded genuinely pleased. "Good." He said. "You have a good night, son. We'll talk later."
And with that, the phone call was over. Arthur shook his head. His rent at the apartment was month to month, so that wasn't a problem. It'd probably take his parents a while to move out, though they'd probably leave most of the furnishings. He'd be about twenty to thirty minutes from the campus, which wasn't too bad. Moving away from Selene, though... well, he'd be lying if he said he didn't have an idea about that already. Their rent was monthly too, so maybe Kat and Selene would be interested in an upgrade? In a room of their own, of course. Moving in with Selene officially was... not unappealing, all things considered, but definitely way too fast. Right?
Speaking of which, he checked the messages from her next. Photos of empty water cups. Different cups to prove it. A quick video of her actually drinking the water, lifting her shirt up as she did so. A video of her eating some Chinese takeout to prove she'd eaten dinner. Not the most nutritious, but still dinner. Wait, did she order takeout? She was still just wearing the t-shirt and the heels in the video, nothing else other than her collar.
He scrolled through.
Slut: I got takeout like you said, and... I met Mindy!
He checked the message from Mindy.
Mindy: I made a delivery to your apt tonight. You weren't there! I met your friend Selene though. She was super nice! Looking forward to tomorrow! C u @ 4!
He had questions. He looked to his apartment window on the third floor to see Selene looking down at him with a smile and a happy little wave. He had a lot of questions.
Original author's patr&on: https://www.patreon.com /u92400299