THE MAN IN ROOM TEN PART 4 OF 4 by Limerick

Sunday, 1:40 a.m., Ms. Rebecca

She had looked everywhere, and Sabrina had been nowhere.

Her step-daughter had simply disappeared, once she had stormed out of the hair salon. At first there had been a trail of water and dye on the sidewalk. Then that too had faded away.

Rebecca had looked everywhere she could think of. She had left five or six pleading messages on Sabrina’s cell. She had backtracked, figuring that Sabrina might try and return all her new outfits. Nothing had worked.

Finally, she had sat in a dive bar and steadily worked her way through a bottle of tequila. After some time the bartender had just left the Cuervo at her side.

She paid off the taxi with a hundred dollar bill and stumbled inside. The world reeled and whirled. There was no one in the lobby. It was lit only by a single light in the chandelier. No one behind the front desk, either. No one except Mr. Wren, sitting in the bar, off to her left.

Wait—

“Nice night, is it not?” Mr. Wren said. “Your stepdaughter is already in your room, if you are wondering.”

Rebecca slowly turned to face the older man. He wore a pair of asian-themed silk pajamas, fit loose to conceal his expansive bulk. A dragon ran down the left side of the leg, and he wore fuzzy slippers. She tried to focus on him.

“What’d you say? About Sabrina?”

“Safely. In bed,” Mr. Wren translated. “In fact, she is the reason I’m awake. Your step-daughter makes an art form out of slamming doors. I think some of the pictures along the walls fell off.”

Sabrina was back. Thank god.

“I don’t know what you did to her,” Mr. Wren continued. “Our crow looked much like a peacock. I can’t fault the transformation, but I must say, it was not very artfully done. If you’re shooting for noon, there must first be a sunrise.”

“Shut it, old man,” Rebecca commanded.

Years of good breeding fell away underneath the weight of her day-long bender. Suddenly, Rebecca was once again the frightened, inner-city girl with a finangled scholarship to prep school. “You can go fuck yourself. I see the way you look at us. You and your fake accent. Where are you really from?”

Mr. Wren stood up and crossed his arms. “Well, well. This is a surprise. Perhaps we have more in common then I earlier imagined.”

“Fuck off.”

Mr. Wren laughed. “I could do that. But Ms. Rebecca. We are both growing old. It’s late. There’s a full moon. Perhaps we could continue our discussion in my suite, over a bottle of whatever you like.”

Rebecca was ready to laugh at him.

Then she caught his eyes.

They were as dark, and hard like caked ash.

Any laughter sank into her chest.

She took a long step towards him. She was suddenly, burningly, aware that she was a woman, and that she and Mr. Wren had nearly the entire hotel to themselves.

Rebecca struggled to pull back, but he was so intoxicatingly near, so full of masculine swagger and grace. Her legs, underneath their short white skirt, felt like they were nineteen years old again, swiveling towards a man.

She licked her lips.

“Leave Rebecca alone!” Sabrina said.

She stood by herself, up against the side of the hallway on the far end.

Mr. Wren turned away, and the spell was broken. Rebecca nearly collapsed.

“Whoa,” she mumbled.

“Ah, the crow. Back in her usual nest, I see,” Mr. Wren mused. Sabrina had changed back into her usual attire, black with black highlights. The only thing left of her day-long transformation was her shining blonde hair. Otherwise it was kohl-rimmed eyes and boots.

“Lets go, Rebecca,” Sabrina said. She hauled the older woman onto one shoulder. “I’m putting you to bed.”

She glared at Mr. Wren. “She’s drunk, you know.”

Mr. Wren laughed. “Is she? Do you know, I had no idea? Isn’t that amusing?” he bowed to them both. “In any case, good evening to you both.”

He strolled off in the direction of the bedrooms.

Rebecca hung on Sabrina’s arm. “Don’t worry, Rebecca. We’ll get back at him,” she whispered.

“Sorry.. about what I did,” Rebecca slurred. All the booze of the day seemed to have hit her at once. “About the hair thing.”

“Forget about it,” Sabrina said.

Rebecca was asleep before she hit the bed.

* * *

Sunday, 8:11 a.m., Ms. Meredith

The mall had only been open for ten minutes or so. Erica had intended to spend the morning restocking shelves while recovering from a vicious, pounding hangover. No one ever showed up at the lingerie department before noon, anyways.

Except today.

A redhead in a loose sweater arrived within minutes of opening. She had a baffled frown spread across her face, and felt at the bras with obvious puzzlement. Erica watched her examine the bigger brassieres for some time, hoping she would go away.

“Can I help you with anything?” she said, finally giving in.

“Oh!” the redhead said, jerking back. “Uh, yes, you can. I’ve recently had a… a bit of a growth spurt. It looks like I’m going to need something special.”

“What’s your size?”

The redhead thought. “I have no idea,” she whispered.

“Weird,” Erica thought. A secret shopper, maybe?

“Okay, well, lets get you measured, I guess,” Erica said.

“Oh-okay,” the redhead replied.

And she started to pull off her sweater, right then and there.

“In the backroom! I mean, lets do it in the changing room,” Erica interrupted.

The redhead flushed. “Right! Of course. The changing room.”

Was she drunk, or just a ditz? Erica had to guide the girl into the mirror-strewn backroom, where she finally threw off her sweater.

Well, Erica had to concede, she definitely needed a new bra. The old one was biting into her shoulders, and mounds of tit pooched out on either side. The redhead took it off with obvious relief, and her heavy chest ornaments sprang into the mall air.

Erica tried not to comment on the erect, pencil-tip nipples. These things happened. The redhead kept her hands firmly at her sides.

“Try not to touch the nipples when you measure,” the redhead ordered.

Even weirder.

Erica did her best, but the tape accidentally brushed against one brown nub. The redhead shuddered. She kept her hands clasped to her sides. She blinked, incredulous, when the shopgirl announced her size.

“Really?”

“Really. I’ll pick a bra for you.”

“It should be plain. White. Boring, basic, white.”

When she returned, the redhead’s hands were cupped just a half-inch from her actual breasts. There was a trickle of sweat on her forehead.

The shopper gratefully threw on the basic cotton thing. She raised her arms, then pushed at her boobs.

“No, this isn’t going to work,” she said, nearly tearing it off.

“What do you have for your women who are… unusually sensitive?” she asked.

“What are you talking about?” Erica said. “Sensitive? Do they hurt?” Maybe implants was the answer. The girl had the high, firm tits of a model, after all.

But if they were implants, it was the best boob job she had ever seen.

“Just… give me the softest fabric you have. I don’t care about the price.”

Erica reappeared with the finest silk brassieres they had in stock. It was hardly white. The thing was black, with lace, and cost a huge amount of money.

“Better, this is kind of better,” she said. “Isn’t there anything else you can do for me?” She looked desperate. Her hands kept hovering above her chest.

Erica wordlessly disappeared. When she returned, she had a full, lace bra with deep, full cups. When she pulled it on, the redhead sighed with obvious relief.

“Perfect. This is perfect. Thank you. Thank you so much.” Her chest was heaving up and down, and she was red-faced.

“Now, quick, where’s your bathroom at?” the woman said. Erica told her. The woman was already kneading at her boobs when she walked, fast, off towards the end of the hall.

Erica didn’t have the heart to tell her that she was wearing a nursing bra.

* * *

Sunday, 9:15 a.m., Mr. Justin

Justin was late for work.

He had slept in, exhausted by his sexual effort of the previous day, and unwilling to face his on-again, off-again lover. Meredith baffled him. First she had confessed her attraction and fucked him half to death. Then she had complained about the amazing sex and asked for a break.

Women!

It was baffling that he was even able to produce that much cum. Every time he came the white stuff had streamed, uninterrupted, out of his spasming cock.

A side effect of a year or so of near sexual abstention? The obvious conclusion from a enthusiastic titty-fuck?

The day was colder, and a mixed array of clouds traversed the open air.

When he arrived, everyone was gathered into the lobby. Jessica surveyed them all with her usual trembling, unsure gaze.

Her outfit was certainly made to be looked at.

Jessica had discovered vinyl. Pink vinyl.

Her skirt had two buckles on it, and had a big obvious zipper along the side. All were unnecessary. The soft-looking outfit rode her hips like a cowboy and rippled across the top of her thighs. The suit jacket was really more of a plastic wrapper, and only a single button kept the fabric from showing off all angles of her boobs.

The wad of gum in her mouth was enormous. The boss had to struggle just to speak around it.

“Hiii Justin!” she said, perking up as he arrived. She waved at him, enthusiastically.

He looked for Meredith. The redhead stood on the far end of the group, and wore a baggy black leather jacket with a torn pair of blue jeans. She kept her head down.

“Um, okay,” Jessica said, past her bubblegum. “Lets get this meeting started. I’ve got some totally exciting news for everyone, I think it’s super interesting.”

“You sold the hotel to Mr. Wren?” Justin said.

Jessica’s eyes popped open. “Ohmygod,” she said, and her hand flew to her lips. “How did you know? Are you psychic or something?”

“Why don’t you… keep going.”

The other staff began to murmur. Nicole and Tara, on other ends of the group, scowled at each other. Both wore nearly identical white shirts with black pants, no heels. Danni, in a brown blouse, started to loudly complain.

“You sold the hotel? To that guy? He’s nasty! He stares at us and makes comments that he thinks are soooo clever, but are totally just sexist!”

Meredith nodded emphatically. Was it Justin’s imagination, or did even that set off a round of jiggling just beneath the surface of her jacket?

“He’s sarcastic, he’s mean, and he’s a creep,” she announced. The redhead pointed in the direction of Room Ten. “I am not working for that man.”

“Oh, well, then I have good news!” Jessica said. “According to the terms of the contract, you’re all fired.”

She smiled. Justin could see the bubblegum in her mouth.

“What?” he said.

“Oh, Mr. Wren explained it last night. For tax reasons he has to fire you all, then hire everyone back. So he’ll be interviewing all of us over the next day or two to get everything settled.”

“He FIRED us?” Danni said. It was hard for her to effectively convey serious anger in her new, dusky purr. But she managed it. “I’m not working for him.”

Jessica squinted at something on her clipboard. She looked like she was struggling with the words. “It says here that you will be hired back so long as… you are cheerful… and agreeable… and obey the dress code. That’s not so bad, right?” Her bubble popped. It nearly got on her shimmering blonde hair.

“I shouldn’t think it is,” Mr. Wren said.

They all turned to look. The big man stood just by the entrance to the lobby. Somehow he had even found a hotel robe that fit him, a white terrycloth monster that made him look like a very fat angel. Bits of chest hair peeked through. “Ms. Jessica, may I make a few brief comments to my new, hopeful employees?”

“Kay,” Jessica said, happy to remove herself from their stares. She ambled backwards. Her heels were pink, too.

Mr. Wren faced them all. “I am, of course, disappointed to see such fear of the new. The sad fact is that when the old and familiar leads to a failing business, things must change. As part of that, a mandatory review of staff is necessary.”

“Yeah, but you’re—“ Danni began.

“I am what, Ms. Danni?” Mr. Wren said. He locked eyes with her. “What were you about to say? That I gave you some of my personal medicine, gratis, when I realized that you were in pain? That I mixed drinks for Ms. Meredith when she was feeling inadequate? Has my conduct been, at any point, at all unlike a gentleman?”

He swept his eyes over them all. Only Danni still had some fight left. “Yeah, but you keep staring at us, and that medicine is—“

“I stare? I am interested in my new staff, that is very true. And I am curious as to how you all adhere to the dress code. I come from a long line of service-minded businessmen. I demand the highest adherence to attentiveness, obedience, agreeableness. And once again I see that you have chosen to come to work dressed like an alcoholic soccer mom.”

Mr. Wren looked right at Danni. She turned away. She was licking hard and fast at her lips.

The older man clapped his hands. “But enough of this. You all know what I require. Meet my standards, and I will be happy to reinstate your positions. Perhaps at a higher pay scale. And now, please excuse me, I am going to go sunbath.”

He untied the robe. Underneath the man had on a ridiculous full-piece swimsuit, with red and white stripes. He walked past them all, into the pool, and shut the door behind him.

A moment later he reopened it.

“Justin? A martini, if you would. Good day.”

They all stared at him, open-mouthed.

Jessica coughed, discretely. “Meredith? Danni? I have something special for the two of you. Please come with me. The rest, have a really super-awesome day, okay?”

* * *

Sunday, 9:40 a.m., Mr. Phillip

Phil had brought a book to read, one of the Intro to Physics college prep textbooks that were probably just scams perpetrated on nervous High School students.

He wasn’t sure if he was getting paid.

Danni had refused to even look at him. She had shown up in a modest outfit, stark black and white, and stormed right through the front door. Phil still didn’t know how to feel about that encounter. On the one hand, his dick still gleamed from the unexpected polishing. On the other, she had acted like their encounter had been his fault, somehow.

The front door opened. Phil dumped his textbook in his lap, and looked up, frowning.

It was Caitlyn. She was wearing her usual grey sweater and pants. But each hand held a tall glass, nearly full. Her hair gleamed like spun gold. Not only was she a blonde, she was an amazingly bright one. When the sunlight hit the reflection blinded.

“Hi Phil,” she said. “I’ve got a present for you.”

“Is it a job?” Phil said.

She looked confused. “Oh, right, we’re fired. Aw, it’s gonna be okay, you’ll see. I got you a Long Island Iced Tea! It’s full of alcohol and stuff.”

Phil accepted the towering glass. “You know how to make these?” he said, examining it.

“No, but Justin does. He said he didn’t give a shit anymore, and I could drink myself into a stupor for all he cared. I think he’s having a tough time or something.”

Phil took his first sip. The boy’s experience with alcohol was limited to the rubbing kind and a few tentative sips from a borrowed flask at Senior Ball. Which he had gone stag to. Caitlyn wasn’t nearly as shy. She tipped her own drink well back, and an ice cube floated against her nose.

“I figure I need to build up my tolerance if I’m gonna be a decent co-ed,” the new blonde explained.

“You didn’t strike me as a drinker,” Phil said.

“Yeah, but I was thinking. How cool it would be to be in a sorority or something, you know?” The blonde pushed her glasses up her face. The dark rims looked out of place on her tanned, smiling face.

“A sorority?”

“There was this cool article on it I was reading. They do, like, parties, and socials, and all this neat stuff. And apparently they’re helpful for studying too, if that’s what you want to do.”

“Isn’t that what you want to do?” Phil probed. “Studying?”

“I guess,” Caitlyn said. She looked confused, for a moment. Then the sunlight hit her. The radiance melted the puzzled look away. “I’m kind of burnt out on learning stuff right now. Besides, you’ll be there to tutor me, right?”

“If you’re into engineering, then yes,” Phil said. He hefted his book. It was dark black, and the only legend was the title and a list of six different authors, all of them with “PHD” written after their names.

“Ooh,” Caitlyn cooed. “That looks really hard. Here, let me read.”

And she settled gracefully onto his lap, still holding the iced tea. Phil had settled his down after the first drink, but Caitlyn was already half through hers.

Could she feel his erection, through the sweats? It was hard to see how she wouldn’t. Oiled by yesterday’s action, it was ready to go as soon as her ass settled onto him. Her blonde locks tickled his nose.

“Okay, come on, show me the book,” she prompted. “I can’t touch it while I’m drinking this. I’ve got to finish this off.” The Iced Tea was melting under her assault.

Phil opened it at random. It flipped to a page on fluid mechanics.

“Boring,” Caitlyn announced, after examining the densely-packed page. “Are there any with pictures?”

“Just a few… of scientists.. I think,” Phil huffed. Her butt had nestled until it neatly sat on his upturned cock.

“That’s boring, too. Is this really what you do all day? Sit and do nothing?”

“It sounds bad when you put it that way.”

“Well…” Caitlyn said, hesitating. Her cheeks were already flushed with a rosy alcoholic glow. “Since Justin is so gloomy and everything today. Why don’t I show you my new swimsuit? I got it yesterday night, it’s so adorable.”

Phil bit his tongue. He nearly drew blood. Caitlyn took his overexcited silence as a yes.

“It’s a little daring for me,” she allowed, “but you know what? If I’m going to go to college, I’ve got to be comfortable with myself as an individual. That’s what it said in my magazine.”

She tossed her sweats off. She looked like she had gotten good at that.

The swimsuit failed to leave much to the imagination. It was white, for one thing, and reflected even more sunlight across the hotel door. A rose pattern climbed across the thin fabric, down across the top of her legs, then up again.

The bikini top was mostly a lot of string. String across the back, up over her shoulders, excepting only a triangle of fabric over each boob. There was plenty to see on top and on bottom.

“God,” Caitlyn said, stretching like a kitten. “Feels so good to be out of those sweats. I didn’t want to wear this during the speech, since everyone was being so much of a downer.” She opened her eyes. “Doesn’t the sun feel amazing?”

She tried to pick up her iced tea off the pavement. First she missed, then she knocked it over. The glass shattered. The ice cubes started to melt on the black tar.

“Hey, that’s what I’m supposed to do,” Phil said.

“Yeah, I guess I’m the ditzy one this morning, huh?” Caitlyn said. Her smile was as radiant as the rest of her. Then she swayed. “Ooh, maybe it’s just that I’m a lightweight. I think I need to sit down.”

And she did, right on top of him. Phil spread his legs to accommodate her. Part of his mind struggled to register the tipsy, laughing blonde on his lap.

“Whoopsie,” she said. “Thanks Phil. You’re such a sweet guy!” Then she pecked him on the cheek, and adjusted her ass so it fit more handily on his erection.

The blonde seemed to notice it for the first time.

“Uhoh,” she said, peeking down between her perfect thighs. “You don’t think I’m that kind of girl, do you, Phil? I mean, I could be if I wanted to be… it’s just…”

Then she was bouncing up and down against his erection, and her eyes were dazed. “I’m really not that kind of girl… I’m just a little bit drunk,” she admitted, breathing hard. “Oooh. I can feel you… between my thighs.”

She reached down to whisper into his ear.

“I can’t go to college as a virgin, I suppose.”

Phil heard a splash. For a second he thought that something on him had exploded in the sexual heat. Then he registered that it came from the pool, just beyond the fence.

“Caitlyn,” he said, as the fevered blonde bounced up and down on his straining dick. “If you’re here… who’s watching the pool?”

“The what?” Caitlyn said.

* * *

Sunday, 9:52 a.m., Ms. Nicole

They all had the same, fearful expression. Justin shoved hard on Mr. Wren’s chest for the third time, and fitted his lips on top of the man’s gaping mouth.

Mr. Wren coughed, and a spout of water fountained out of his mouth. He rolled onto his side, hacking, sputtering up liquid. Then the older man groaned and rolled onto his back.

“So many ladies in this place,” he said, weakly, “and I wake up to Mr. Justin on top of me.”

Nicole let out a long sigh of relief. She had been complaining to Justin, sitting at the bar, when they both heard the splash. It had been Justin who had dived into the pool and fished out Mr. Wren’s unmoving form. And Justin who had performed enough competent rescue breathing to get the water out of his lungs.

Tara had run up a moment later, trailed by Caitlyn and Phil. The blonde looked terrible. She was crying, and her red-stained cheeks looked the wrong hue up against her scintillating swimsuit.

“Oh, stop sobbing, girl,” Mr. Wren said, irritably. “It was my own fault. I tried to dive in and slipped on a damned wet patch. I believe I must’ve conked my head. Let this be a lesson to the rest of you. Watch your step.”

Mr. Wren picked himself off the ground. His legs shivered.

“I believe I’ll need a liedown,” the man allowed. He was still spitting water.

“Oh, I’ll help you!” Tara volunteered.

Nicole’s eyes narrowed. She locked stares with the other girl.

Neither had been at all surprised when Mr. Wren had announced the layoffs. The only question now was whether, after they had both messed up royally yesterday, Mr. Wren would be willing to hire either of the duo.

Nicole knew it would be her.

She had thought it through in the bathroom the previous day, once she had slipped her drenched underthings back on. The entire plan had leapt into her head as she pistoned two needy fingers in and out of her shaved snatch. Nicole had realized, with perfect clarity, that she would do anything to keep her job.

Anything.

“I’ll help too!” she volunteered. Nicole stepped onto the other half of the older man, and nestled up against his right side. Tara pushed herself onto his left, and the two of them escorted the unsteady Mr. Wren back into the lobby.

“Come on,” she said, in her best sickly-sweet voice. “Lets get you into bed… all warmed up… nice and comfy.”

“Whatever it takes to make you happy,” Tara gushed. Behind his back, they glared at each other.

“That may be the right move for me, right now,” Mr. Wren conceded. He kept his weight partly on Nicole’s shoulders.

The tanned girl with the almond eyes shrugged his left arm off her shoulder, and carefully maneuvered it down to the curve of her ass. Mr. Wren’s hand hung there for a moment, and then he lightly brushed the bottom of her rear.

Nicole hoped he realized that she was wearing a thong. The older man’s stroking felt like a pleasant massage.

Tara noticed her move. She shrugged his own arm off, and resettled it around her back, so he could wrap around and grab at her left boob. He held himself there, and she sighed, happily.

By the time they arrived Wren was energetically kneading her ass, and Nicole had to struggle to walk straight. It wasn’t that the stroking that felt so good. Although it did, it really did. It was the certainty that Mr. Wren was an ass-man. There was no way he was going after Tara’s tits as fervently as her butt.

They opened the door for him, and walked the man inside. He shrugged them off for the rest of the way, and nearly fell into the bed.

He closed his eyes. “Thank you, both of you. Good day.”

The two quietly walked back out of the room. Then they stepped well away from Room Ten, to make sure that Mr. Wren had absolute silence. Only then did they start to bicker at each other.

“Well, come on,” Tara prompted. “Lets see what slutty hooker outfit you’ve got underneath your clothes.”

“I don’t know WHAT you’re talking about, Tara,” Nicole purred. She knew it drove the deeper-voiced girl wild. “As I’m sure you’re aware, Mr. Wren was happy to grab my ass even without artificial aids.”

Tara seethed. Both girls had immaculate hair and makeup. Nicole had crested her shoulder-length hair back and stuck a red stick through the silky twist. Tara had sculpted her hair around her face, and put on a heavy layer of lipstick.

Both had wine-red nail polish on.

“This is MY job,” Tara hissed. “I was hired an entire day before you were. I’m better at the work. And I’m not going to lose it just because you get off whenever an old man gropes your ass.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, that must’ve been another girl in the stall next to mine, yesterday,” Nicole said. “At least I don’t sound like a pissed-off donkey when I come!”

Tara burnt crimson. “I was loud?”

“My eardrums nearly burst!”

Tara looked at the floor. “Look, lets just be professional about this, okay? You get your interview, I get mine. We keep it professional. Neither of us has to act like multi-orgasmic bimbos just to keep a stupid maid job.”

Ice glinted between them.

“Fine,” Nicole said. “Fair and square.”

“Fair and square!” Tara insisted.

“Fine!”

They both swiveled and walked off. Which made Nicole look stupid, because her path ended at the back of the corridor. She had to turn around once more and follow Tara.

She smirked. Tara was a fool. She didn’t have anything slutty underneath her clothes.

She had snuck it into Room 9 last night.

* * *

Sunday, 9:55 a.m., Ms. Danni

“Is this some kind of joke?” Danni said.

They stood in the employee break room, seated around the wobbly center table. Jessica regarded both of them with a drippy smile. Barely a moment went by when she wasn’t blowing a bubble.

Her eyes looked disturbingly vacant.

“I thought this is what you wanted, Danni,” she said, sweetly. Her voice oozed sincerity. “You looked sooo cute in it yesterday. Totally hot.

Danni nearly growled at the younger woman. She held back. After all, what if she had picked the break room on purpose, somehow aware of her… liaison… with Phil? What if this was some form of bimbo payback?

“I can’t fit in this,” Meredith said, dismayed. She held the dress at arms-length, like it was about to bite her. It was yellow, and looked slippery, and was about to fall off the hangar.

“I sorta asked for a waitress dress, and they gave me this thingie,” Jessica explained. She reached into her mouth and took the wad of gum out. She hesitated, then tossed it into the overflowing wastebasket.

“If you don’t like it, Mr. Wren said…” Jessica said, and stood up from the table. She had to think about the end of her sentence. “…to talk to him or something.”

And then she was out the door as quickly as her long legs could take her.

Both girls stared, dismayed, at their respective work outfits.

“This is revenge,” Danni proclaimed. “I just know it. I pushed her too hard, and now it’s payback.”

“I just can’t wear this,” Meredith said. The redhead looked like she had a hard night, and wore a black jacket even in the warmth of the closed-in room.

“Why not? Mine is worse. Much worse,” Danni said.

Meredith looked around the empty break room. Old smells from forgotten lunches filled the room. “Promise not to laugh?” she said.

“At what?”

“At these.”

Meredith unzipped her jacket.

Meredith had two big boobs, straining at the fabric of her old white blouse, threatening the buttons. One had already nearly popped off. Even the fabric itself strained to hold the knits in place.

“Holy shit, Meredith,” Danni said, amazed. She swallowed, hard. Her irrepressible spit flow was acting up, all of a sudden. “When did you get those?”

“Just the past three days!” Meredith wailed. “And it’s not even the growth. I know, they’re huge, and they’ve got these fat nipples, and my center of gravity is crazy now… but…” she stared down at them.

The redhead looked up at Danni. “Danni… you’ve got pretty big boobs, right? How good are they supposed to feel? On a scale where 1 is not good and ten is WOW.”

Actually, with her super sensitive lips Danni hadn’t given too much thought to her chest lately. “Good, not great. I guess, a six?” Danni said. It wasn’t an easy question to answer.

“So like, would it be weird if you.. orgasmed… from just getting your nipples sucked?”

“Uh, I’ve heard of some girls who can do that,” Danni ventured.

“No, I mean.. orgasmed… four or five times. In a row. Without stopping in between. Like you spend most of your night rubbing them in front of a mirror. And you get off when the shower hits them, first thing in the morning

They were both silent, staring at Meredith’s whopping tits.

Meredith looked crest-fallen. She sagged in her chair. “They’re soooo sensitive,” she said. “I can’t get anything done. All I want to do is stroke my tits, feel my tits… I can put them in my mouth now. It’s amazing.”

“When you just… grab one?” Danni asked. Her legs spread apart, ever so slightly. That familiar daze was coming back. She could already feel it. The room started to smell like warm strawberries and cream.

Meredith automatically reached for one.

“No, I better not,” she said, with considerable reluctance, hauling back her trembling fingers. “I’ve finally got them calmed down. I had to buy a new bra and everything.”

They both stared at her chest. Meredith shrugged the jacket off. When she stood sideways, they pooched out on either side of her arms.

Danni checked the door. It was closed shut. She stood up, put a chair in front of it, then double-checked the feeble lock. It would have to do.

“I’ve got my own problems too,” she whispered. “Maybe we can help each other out.”

“Your lips, right?” Meredith said.

“Obviously. Mr. Wren gave me this medicine stuff to put on them. First it felt good. Then it felt fantastic. Now I don’t even need the medicine. It’s like my clit is stuffed up right in the center of my mouth. I had a glass of milk last night. I drank it through a straw. I woke up twenty minutes later bent over the table.”

Meredith, distracted by Danni’s story, had started rubbing at the undersides of her boobs.

“I think I might act… different… when I’m touching my lips,” Danni said.

“Different?”

“I need someone to help me test. I’ll rub my lips, and you tell me if I’m acting strangely, okay?” Danni offered.

Meredith nodded, earnestly. She had both hands running up and down her jugs, now, and had sat back down to knead at her overheated skin. A lock of hair bounced in the center of her forehead.

Danni pulled the pacifier out of her pocket.

Her lips knew what to do as soon as she stuck the nub in between them. They sucked on the thing, and the familiar waves of pleasure rippled like the ocean at high tide.

“How does it feel?” Meredith asked. Her own voice was husky and thick.

“Good. Soooo good,” Danni admitted. She sucked harder. Spit swirled through her mouth, and when she swallowed, it seemed to carry those happy, silly feelings all over her oversensitive body.

“Like, how good?”

“Umm… like when you see a hot guy, and he’s all alone, and you know that if you just walked up to him he’d fuck your brains out. That feeling.”

“Uh-huh,” Meredith said. She had both hands underneath her blouse, now, grabbing and pulling at her expansive titflesh. “Wait, what?”

Danni struggled to explain. It was tough. Bubbles of oozing goodness kept exploding right in the middle of her head. “It’s like when you spend the whole class teasing this guy you know, letting him look down your chest, and see that you’re not wearing panties, and then you suck him off in the bathroom. Just like that.”

Meredith still looked confused. Danni huffed. How could she make it any clearer? “It’s like when you’re getting fucked, dumbo!” she said.

“Sorry,” Meredith mumbled. “Danni, are you okay?”

Danni reached her own hands up to her chest. “I’m just gonna play with myself a little,” she admitted.

“Is that… normal?” Meredith asked.

“You’re doing it too, shilly.”

“Your lisp is back,” Meredith noted.

Danni was well past caring, now.

Each gentle suck cascaded through her head, burnt away anything that got in the way of sheer enjoyment of the feeling. Each lip rubbed against each other, shot right through her waning inhibitions. “Omigod,” she sighed. “This is so fucking amazing.” Her throaty voice rose and fell.

“Danni, maybe you should…. Um… stop,” Meredith warned. It was hard for her to keep her own eyes open.

“You firsht. You’re the one grabbing your sexy titties,” Danni sang.

“That’s… different,” the redhead said. She suddenly buckled and flushed. Apparently her hands had slipped underneath her bra.

“Just look at ush. A couple of young shluts,” Danni said, eyes half-closed. “I’ll bet all the boysh at school want to fuck you. With those tittiesh.” It felt good to talk, now. The words sent new and interesting thrills through her. What was she talking about?

“Danni, you should…. take that… thing… out of your mouth. It’s making you really… ditzy,” Meredith said.

“If I take it out, I’m going to shuck on your tittiesh,” Danni said, and giggled. Her free hand twirled her hair. She wondered, idly, where Phil had gotten to.

College guys were so cool.

“Well, maybe.. that would be for the best,” Meredith said. “Whatever, uh, helps.”

Danni removed the pacifier with a regretful pop.

Her lips still yearned for it. Instead, she reached forward, fell hard onto her knees, and burrowed her head in Meredith’s warm lap.

The redhead didn’t resist at all. She didn’t seem to be noticing anything besides her warm tits. Danni pulled her shirt reverently up. Unclasping the bra only took a moment.

After all, she had been wearing a bra for, like, completely three years now.

Her plush, overstuffed lips hovered for a moment, above Meredith’s thick brown nipples. A tiny part of Danni, the part approaching 30, screamed at her to stop. She waited, kept her mouth wide, watched a tendril of drool slip onto Meredith’s unlashed boobs.

The redhead stuffed the nipple into Danni’s mouth.

* * *

Sunday, 10:00 a.m., Ms. Nicole

“I look like a whore,” Nicole thought, happily. “An expensive whore.”

Which was exactly what she was going for.

If Mr. Wren didn’t hire her on the spot, Nicole would…

She sucked at her lip. She didn’t know what she’d do, but just in case, the girl had stashed a brand new vibrator in her maid cart. Although Nicole had no idea what it had to do with getting hired.

Her needy pussy had just demanded the purchase.

The heels were towering things, and her feet were scrunched inside two big boots that went up to mid-knee. “Fuck-me boots,” Nicole thought, and savored the phrase. Fuck-me, fuck-me, fuck-me.

She rapped on Mr. Wren’s door. When there was no reply, she pulled it open and swayed through.

“Room service!” she said.

Mr. Wren was still seated on the bed, flipping through cable channels with his free hand. He had pulled his terrycloth robe back on, and Nicole’s eyes automatically drooped to the crotch.

“Room service indeed,” Mr. Wren grunted. He sat upright.

Nicole handed him a martini, one of Justin’s specials. He had declared it to be his “last one,” whatever that meant. Then she stepped back and waited, proudly, for him to absorb her outfit.

There was very little of it. Here and there were hints of her actual job position. The long white gloves. The frilly black skirt with the white fringe. But it was all done up in lyrcra and lace, and the top was much more of a strap of tight fabric then a shirt.

She hadn’t even bothered with underwear. Nicole was already swimming with bubbles of lubrication, anyway.

“I thought I’d get my job reinterview out of the way, while I’m here,” Nicole said. She walked back and forth in front of the large man. He sipped appreciatively from his glass.

“I can’t fault your diligence,” Mr. Wren said. He gestured at her with the half-empty glass. “Go ahead. Make your case.”

“I’m 21, I’m very skilled at polishing, rubbing, and sucking. I mean, vacuuming,” Nicole began. “I’m very.. flexible about work schedules and pay scales.”

She bent over backwards to give him a good view of her naked ass. She was sure that her bald pussy was already gleaming, but a few fingers in and out spread the wetness around. “I enjoy new challenges and opportunities,” she said. “I’m equally comfortable on my feet or on my hands and knees.”

“In sum,” Nicole said, turning back around, “I’m perfect for this job.”

She sucked on her wet fingers and winked at him.

“You vicious whore,” Tara said.

Both her and Mr. Wren whirled. The brunette stood in the doorway. Where Nicole had retained a trace of French-maid sexuality, Tara had elected to simply dress like a needy bimbo. Her dress was simplicity itself. It started just below her tits, and it ended just above the tops of her thighs. In between, everything was outlined in glossy blue. Her own boots were the same shade.

“I knew you’d double-cross me,” Tara snarled. Nicole kept sucking on her juiced-up fingers.

“Excuse me,” Mr. Wren said. “I believe we were still in the middle of Ms. Nicole’s interview.”

Tara strode up to him. Her stride in the cartoonish heels was flawless. “Job interview? Here, I’ll make it easy for you,” she said. She jerked a thumb at Nicole, who couldn’t quite seem to get her tasty fingers out of her mouth. “Nicole? All flash and talk. Likes to show off, likes to talk a big game. Me? I take care of business.”

And the Latina clambered onto the bed, dragged aside Mr. Wren’s terrycloth robe, and yanked down his swim shorts. Underneath was an already-erect cock, massive in girth and size, and it sprang into the air. Tara only took the time to lick her lips before wrapping them around him.

Mr. Wren took another sip of his martini.

“Excellent,” he noted, as the girl beneath him worked avidly at his cock. Tara bounced up and down, her mouth distended and thick with the length of him. Nicole watched, horrified, as she sucked noisily at his member. Her spit rolled down the side of it.

She opened her eyes just long enough to glare at Nicole, then returned to her impassioned sucking. Her free hand dove underneath her dress.

Mr. Wren finished his glass.

“Nicole?” he said, his eyes dreamy.

“Y-yes?” she answered, waiting for the termination notice.

“One more of these?”

“U-of course, sir,” she said, taking the glass from his calm hand. It brought her just up against Tara’s slurping form.

Nicole dashed out the door, down the hall. Was there still hope? If there was, it had to start in doing exactly what Mr. Wren wanted her to do. Which meant a martini, stat.

Justin was writing at a table when she returned, chest heaving.

He examined her. The fuck-me outfit. The heels. The juices still running, even now, down her thighs.

“Don’t say anything,” she warned. “Just make me another god-damned martini.”

“I told you. I’m done. I’m quitting.”

“What?” Nicole squawked.

“After the way Meredith—“

“Fuck Meredith! Martini! Now!”

Justin took in her red-flushed cheeks and stormy eyes, and elected not to argue. He put together a martini in record time, tossed it into the shaker, and wordlessly handed it over. Nicole dashed back to the room. She stopped outside, composed herself as best she could, and poured it out into a fresh glass.

Tara was still working away. Mr. Wren showed no obvious signs of coming soon. In fact, his face only lit up when he saw Nicole approach with the glass.

“And a shaker with extra. Well done,” he said, approvingly. The stout guest gestured down at Tara. Her lips were frothy with pre-cum, but she redoubled her fading efforts once Nicole walked into the room. “Would you like to take your turn? It seems only fair.”

“If that’s what you like, sir,” Nicole responded. She flipped up her skirt so he could have a good look at her charms. “Any way in particular?”

Mr. Wren laughed. “Oh, that is good service. Female-dominant, I think. The ultimate position when age has left you happy mostly to lie in bed and let others do the work.

Tara withdrew, panting and heaving. Her body shuddered with her own quiet orgasms, and even as she stared daggers at Nicole she put her fingers in her mouth. “Tara, why don’t you pack up my things? I’m due to leave for Prague this afternoon.”

“Of course, Mr. Wren,” she replied.

Nicole climbed eagerly onto Mr. Wren’s red-tipped cock. Between her own lubrication and the mixture of pre-cum and spit, he split her apart without any apparent effort at all. The rich feeling of a cock filling her shocked Nicole’s world apart, and she nearly fell over from the sensation.

“Steady, girl,” he reminded her. Nicole nodded, wiped away some sweat, and began to bob up and down on the very tip of his cock. Mr. Wren watched her efforts with bemused calm, occasionally swiveling his hips to take advantage of her position. Nothing she tried seemed to blow him away.

By contrast, Nicole was already hovering on the brink of a massive orgasm. She fought it back, but even the tip of the man’s dick blissed out her body from head to toe, and shot fiery sparks through her clit. She moaned, despite herself.

When she started to lose control of her precarious rhythm, Mr. Wren took charge. He put both hands on top of her tits, and bounced her roughly up and down his cock. Nicole just went along for the ride, aware of little more then the pulsing, shuddering sensation between her legs.

It was too much.

She came.

Stars flew around.

When Nicole came to, she had been discarded on the side of the bed. Mr. Wren had his fingers around the side of his cock, and flicked gently at his own member.

“Ah, Ms. Nicole is back with us,” he rumbled. “I must say, I am disappointed in you both. So eager to serve, and yet so blind about how to perform your duties.”

“I tried everything!” Tara burst. Nicole felt groggy, and her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

“Everything?” Mr. Wren said. His eyes fell on Nicole, then on Tara, then onto his penis.

The two maids looked at each other.

Then they both descended towards Mr. Wren’s pulsating dick. Two eager tongues lashed out, flitted up and down the sides of his cock. At first there was some competition for the perfect spot right below, where there was a steady stream of pre-cum, but Nicole gracefully descended downwards, to lick at the base. She put a hand out and cupped at his swollen balls.

“That’s my girls,” Mr. Wren said, approvingly.

Later Tara screamed and shuddered as Nicole put her dainty tongue to work flickering over the tips of her nipples. Mr. Wren had finally risen from the bed, and was busy at her backside, pushing until she could feel his pubic hair tickle her sensitive ass.

Finally he stood over them both, as the two kneeling girls attacked each other, long fingernails dipping into their own honeypots. Nicole had lost track of the number of orgasms he had had. Two billion, she figured.

“Girls, I’m going to cum,” he announced. “Who would like to take it on?”

“Nicole,” Tara said.

“Tara,” Nicole said. They both looked at each other.

Mr. Wren had enough for two. He unloaded a session’s worth of semen on top of their eager, outstretched tongues. Nicole took in a load and turned to kiss Tara’s fiery lips.

* * *

Sunday, 10:35 a.m., Mr. Justin

There was a short hallway to Jessica’s office, and for a few minutes Justin stood in it, quietly. In part because he wanted to think hard about what he was about to do. But also because he was listening to the short, pleased gasps in the room beyond.

Finally, the lanky man rapped on the office door. The gasps stopped. “Um, come in?” Jessica said. Justin pushed in.

The blonde was just then pulling her legs off the table. The vinyl skirt/jacket combination popped and crinkled whenever she shifted position, and tended to ride right up her long legs.

Justin looked around. The room was a mess. Typically Jessica’s inner sanctum was a model of efficiency, her own personal hidey-hole of organization. Now, papers and accounting books littered the floor in front of her desk, shoved off by her glittering heels. The desk itself was covered with crumpled up papers.

Her expensive suit from the previous day was the only thing to escape the carnage—it was carefully hung behind the blonde, and added more pink to her growing collection.

“Hi Justin!” she perked, at him. There was no chair in front of the table. Jessica had apparently moved it to her side of the dark-red oak desk.

“Hi Jessica,” he said. “I wanted to talk to you. Real quick.”

“Did you bring any booze with you?” She asked, eagerly.

“What? No!”

“Oh, too bad,” Jessica said. “I could really use a drinky right now.”

Justin pushed an envelope across her desk. His boss opened it, stared at the paper inside.

“Ummmm,” she said, and felt at her lips. “What does all this stuff say?”

“It’s two lines long!”

Jessica looked up at him, and wordlessly handed the bartender the paper. Justin rolled his eyes and read it out loud.

“I am resigning from my position. Thank you for employing me. This is effective immediately.”

Jessica still took awhile to comprehend.

Understanding slowly dawned on her blue eyes. “Oh no! You can’t quit! You’re Justin! Who will make the drinks?”

Something about Jessica was off, besides the all-pink attitude.

“Yeah, well, I can’t quit because you already fired me,” Justin said. “But I’m resigning anyway.”

“Why?” Jessica said, miserably. She had her legs crossed, but let them fall open, and squeezed them together. Her skirt was really more like an expensive belt.

“Personal reasons,” Justin said, stiffly. Very stiffly. In spite of himself, his eyes kept falling onto the length of her boobs. Underneath her jacket she had on a black rubber strapless top, at least a size too small.

Jessica snatched the paper back and peered at it, as if that would help her to understand.

“You can’t quit!” she wailed. Tears leaked from her eyes, suddenly. In her distress Jessica’s legs popped apart. It was impossible not to see a matching pair of vinyl pink panties, way down in the back of her legs. Justin’s eyes fixated on it. That now-familiar hot feeling was burning underneath his pants.

“It’s me, isn’t it?” she said, sprawling in her chair. “It’s because I’m a crappy, stupid, silly manager, and I suck at my job, and I suck. That’s it.”

“It’s nothing personal!” Justin insisted. “I… I just don’t want this job anymore. I’m leaving.”

“I can be a good manager,” Jessica whispered, and she leaned forwards, so that her boobs were exposed. “I’m getting sooo much better. Watch, I’ll show you. I’m fantastic at walking, now.”

She stood up and practiced her careful, delicate walk across the short length of the office. It sent her boobs bouncing. After four steps she tripped, and nearly fell into a section of wire shelves.

“Ignore that!” she cried, and retreated to her chair. This time she thrust her chest forwards.

“Is it my outfits?” she said, breathless. “Is it not professional enough? Do you need to see more of my boobies? Here, you can see all you want!” Jessica put her hands undereneath her rubber tube top, and gave the twosome a gentle shove.

Both fell out almost immediately.

They were well-formed, tight on her chest, and her nipples looked like they could cut rough diamonds. Justin’s mouth felt very dry.

“And I’ve got business underwear, just like Mr. Wren wanted me to,” Jessica said. She hiked up her skirt, not that it needed it, so that he had an excellent view of her pink-clad pussy.

He watched, enthralled, as a hint of wetness leaked out the sides. “Do you like them? I could have all the girls wear them. Or you could choose. How about Meredith? You like Meredith, don’t you?”

Justin got up. “Ms. Jessica, I don’t think you’re okay. I have to—“

“I know!” Jessica yelled. “I know, okay!

Justin didn’t know what to say.

Jessica ticked them off on her pink-painted fingers. “I squish when I walk, I’m so juiced up I feel like a water bottle, and I can’t stop thinking about getting fucked by, like, six or seven cocks at once. I know all that!

She stared at him with pleading eyes. “But I’m still just trying to do my job the best I can, okay? I just want to be a good manager-girl.”

Her right hand had descended onto her panties, and stroked at the shining surface. Justin felt light-headed, and all the blood in his head had apparently descended into his aching cock.

“Look,” Jessica said, in a more normal tone of voice. “Let me suck your cock. If it’s not the best blowjob you’ve ever had, you can quit.”

Justin stuffed all the negative thoughts somewhere far away.

He unzipped his fly.

Jessica cooed with delight. She dropped to her knees, one hand still lost underneath the skirt, and tugged out Justin’s sizable cock.

“I knew we could… come to an agreement,” she said, eyes glassy and far away. Then his boss wet her lips and sank her mouth to the hilt on his dripping cock. “Ima good businessgirl.”

Justin’s libido took charge of the situation. He sat back in the chair, and struggled to get his pants around his ankles. Jessica refused to give up her hungry lock on his dick, and bounced up and down, wetly, her spit already mixing with a clump of pre-cum. Her cheeks were red and flushed. Once Justin was settled she started to use her tongue, eagerly lapping at the drooling tip.

When he pulled her off his straining dick, she made an audible “pop” as the seal was broken, and looked crest-fallen. Justin picked her up and put her ass on the top of the table. Jessica quickly shoved down her underwear, and braced her legs in midair. Justin stared at her pussy for a transfixed moment, then rubbed his penis on the outside. The blonde writhed and squealed, spasming with delight.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck me some more,” she chanted, shoving back as hard as she could. Justin swiveled his hips, for better access, and she moaned once again. Her clenched pussy was virginal-tight.

His stamina was incredible. Justin knew, vaguely, that he had never been this good, could never have lasted this long. The rippling walls should’ve sent him over the peak ages ago. But he still kept pounding Jessica to mind-shattering orgasms, bouncing her screams off the side of the walls.

Later she dripped, half-unconscious, with her boobs on the top of the table. Justin leisurely nailed her from behind. She twitched every so often, and she was drooling. Jessica wore a permanent, vapid smile.

Meredith was right. She hadn’t just been teasing him. Something weird was going on.

The only strange part was that it had taken Justin so long to figure it out. Shouldn’t the fog of near-constant arousal all around him tipped him off? The disappearing hemlines? Or Meredith’s own massive tits?

“What’s going on?” he said, to himself.

“Ask Mr. Wren,” Jessica said, dreamily. “He knows everything.”

Mr. Wren!

What had the guest done to them? And why hadn’t he made the connection before?

Justin lost control. Jessica bucked and thrashed once more, as a massive volume of cum blew through her insides. It came out in buckets, and splashed back outside, around his cock.

“Yay,” Jessica said, reopening her eyes. She looked ahead of her, at the wastebasket. “Oh, yummy, gum!” she said. Justin looked over.

A piece of dried, pink bubblegum had settled on the rim of the trash basket.

Jessica reached out, picked it up, and put it back in her mouth.

“I love gum,” she concluded.

* * *

Sunday, 11:01 a.m., Mr. Phillip

Phil had listened to Caitlyn sob, inconsolable, for the past ten minutes. She was just on the other side of the fence, after all. At last he put down his book, readjusted his pants, and walked inside.

Danni was back inside. Their eyes locked. Phil caught his breath, waited for the cutting remark.

Then he saw what she was wearing.

The top was a light cotton shirt, with long sleeves marked with peppermint red and white stripes. It didn’t cover her entire chest. The bottom of her pretty boobs poked out the bottom, hanging freely in the air. Her socks, up on the table, were outlined in the same candy-striper colors, and she wore bright white shorts with a pink belt.

Her lips bobbed on a lollipop, and she wore her pacifier on a string around her neck.

“Hi Phil!” she said, happily. “I’m soooo sorry about yesterday. I’m so hormonal this week, you know?”

“That’s okay?” Phil tried. Danni’s free hand was twirling at her hair.

“Hey, if your parents let you take the car, maybe you and me should—“ and the phone rang, right then. She pulled it off the receiver before the second ring. “Hotel Orang, the bestest hotel there is! This is Danni speaking!”

Phil exited to his left.

Where Meredith was plunking away at the piano. Or trying to. Her new boobs were getting in the way.

The waitress wore a bright yellow uniform. The scoop-cut neck was so low her entire chest was on view, excepting only where it squeezed into the plastic fabric. The rest of the outfit, around her new jugs, were something of an afterthought, but it too was squeezed into a hot sun-colored sheath.

If she didn’t sit ramrod-straight her boobs played the piano for her. Meredith didn’t seem to mind. The redhead plinked away with one finger.

“Oh, hey, Phil,” she said, distracted. “Have you seen Justin, anywhere? I really need to talk to him.”

“Uh, no,” Phil said. His cock was growing at a record pace. “I was just going to talk to Caitlyn.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty upset over Mr. Wren’s accident,” the big-boobed girl said. Her eyes glimmered. “Hey, let me give you something for her. She’ll love it.”

Meredith stood up, and grabbed her boobs protectively to keep them from jiggling too much. Then she raced behind the bar.

Phil looked out at the blonde in the blinding white swimsuit. She sat cross-legged in the middle of the sun, and stared down at the massive Shakespeare tome that had been gathering dust the past few days.

Meredith poked him the shoulder. “Here,” she said, handing him a huge glass of something white and obviously alcoholic. “She’ll like this. It’s got lots of rum in it.” She was smiling. Phil accepted it and walked outside.

“What’s wrong?” he said, placing the glass on the ground. He sat beside his former classmate. Even in obvious distress she still had awe-inspiring curves.

“I’m just so… pathetic!” Caitlyn said. She sniffed, and noticed the glass at her side.

“What’s this?”

“Meredith made it. It’s got lots of rum in it.”

Caitlyn drank from it. It gave her a milk mustache, which she wiped off.

“It’s just…” she said. “I’m so unprepared for college!”

“What do you mean?” Phil said, surprised. The Caitlyn he remembered had straight-As and an unshakeable confidence in her academic abilities.

“I don’t mean the stupid book stuff,” she said, dismissively. “All that’s boring anyways. I mean stuff like swimming, and makeup, and having fun. I don’t know how to do any of that.”

She looked earnestly into his eyes. “Do you know I’ve never let a boy touch my titties?” she said. “I wouldn’t even know what to do.”

Phil’s hand trembled. But Meredith was watching from the window.

“Why don’t we start with the swimming?” he suggested. He had brought a spare suit some time ago, just in case, and had put it on under his clothes this morning.

An Engineer was always prepared.

“You’ll help me?” Caitlyn said. The stacked blonde seemed shocked that a boy would be willing to mess around in a pool with her.

She drained her glass before they went in. “Creamy,” she concluded.

The pool was warm after endless unused days in the sun. Caitlyn’s tits floated in the shallow end, and she pulled her long legs around the bottom. Phil’s erection bobbed in the water.

“Oh, they float!” Caitlyn said, surprised, staring down at her cleavage.

“Girls are more buoyant then boys,” Phil said.

“You’re so good at science!” Caitlyn enthused. She bobbed up and down in the water. Phil showed her how to do a basic doggy paddle, and the blonde pulled around the small end of the water.

“This is sooo easy! Why didn’t I do it before? And the water feels nice, too.”

“Here, let me, uh, show you the breast stroke,” Phil said.

This was it. The Phil of two days ago would never have thought of it. But that Phil was long gone.

He came up behind her, adjusted his long, lanky body, and reached out from behind. Their wet skin touched, warm in the lukewarm water. Phil let his hands drift upwards, until he held her close just behind her bobbing boobs.

“So, uh, this is the right posture,” he gabbled.

“I’m so glad,” Caitlyn’s voice had gotten hot. “You’re teaching me all this… Phil.”

She pushed back, hard, against his insistent erection. The new swimmer rubbed it up against the rubber of her ass.

“Then you stroke outwards,” Phil said. His hands were on top of her bare boobs, now, rubbing at her nipples. Caitlyn had her eyes closed.

“Like this?” she said, and reached behind her. One smooth hand found his dick, and rubbed gently up and down the length of it.

“Close… enough…” Phil gasped.

They stood together in the shallow end for sometime. Phil’s hands rubbed all over her sensitive chest, until her bikini top was floating gently in the water. Her free hand stroked his submerged cock.

“Hey, let me try something,” Caitlyn said. She turned, took a deep breath, and dived underwater. Moments later, Phil felt a warm mouth caressing the underside of his dick. He backed against the poolside.

Caitlyn emerged a long time later. She coughed when she rose up. “Forgot I need to breath,” she said, cheerful. Her glasses she had left behind when they dove into the water.

Phil glanced over at the side of the window. Meredith had disappeared. “Come on,” he said. “I think we have a lot more to teach each other.”

* * *

A minute later, Caitlyn was on her knees, enthusiastically tonguing and stroking the underside of his dick. She diligently listened to every piece of advice he gave. They had left her bikini top behind in the pool.

“Okay, now go even deeper,” Phil instructed. She did her best, keeping her teeth well apart, and using her delicate tongue to push at the tip. Soon her nose was poking amidst his pubic hair.

“Am I doing okay?” she said anxiously, around his dick. “I want to be good at this.”

“Don’t stop the rhythm,” he said, and she dove back onto his cock.

* * *

“Am I wet enough? Am I all lubed up?” Caitlyn said. She looked behind her. Her white bottom was somewhere around her knees. Her tits still dripped with droplets of water.

“You’re so… tight…” Phil said. He had lost all control, and was just plunging in and out. Caitlyn squeezed hard with every move. She had already come once, apologized for the interruption, and concentrated on him.

“Cosmo said I should say things,” the new blonde said. “Do you, um, like fucking my pussy? Is it tight and wet enough for you?”

“You don’t need to—“

“You have a gigantic dick,” she told him.

“Really?”

“Ohhhh yeah. It feels soooo good,” she paused. “Do you like that?” Something pulsed along the length of his cock.

Phil came. He splurted white over her insides, shot her full of rich cum. That set Caitlyn off, unexpectedly, and she bucked and rode him as he came down off his own orgasm.

Later she stared at the white stuff dribbling out of her insides.

“Wow. It’s a good thing you can’t get pregnant your first time,” the gushing blonde said.

“Wait, what?” Phil said. He froze in the act of getting dressed. “Why do you think that?”

Caitlyn giggled. “Come on, Phil! I’m not stupid just because I’m a blonde now. Everyone knows that.”

She rolled onto her back. “Want to teach me some more?” she whispered, and put her legs in the air.

* * *

Sunday, 11:32 a.m., Ms. Rebecca

“You don’t have to do this,” Rebecca told her newly-platinum step-daughter. Her hands still shook from last night’s excess, and she was nursing a persistent hangover. The older woman’s head felt like a rugby grudge match. “We can just go home. No one needs to prove anything.”

“Just zip me up,” Sabrina ordered. Rebecca did, pulling up the back of the tiny zipper. It was Sabrina’s plan, after all.

Although every time Rebecca thought too carefully about it, her headache started up once more.

Sabrina touched up her lipstick. Every exhaustive trick in Rebecca’s little black book of titillation had gone into the production. The last blotch of black crow was gone, flown away. Every inch of her co-ed stepdaughter was curvy, alabaster woman. They had piled her hair up high, dusted her eyes with mascara, and drawn in up-curved pencil eyebrows. A layer of concealer had dusted away any blotchiness from yesterday.

Rebecca had wordlessly given Sabrina her entire makeup bag to pick from, for lipstick. She had gone with bright pink, and outlined her lips with it.

The plan was simple.

Show up at Mr. Wren’s door, tell him off, then amble away in the best tradition of blue-balling beautiful women everywhere.

Rebecca frowned. Although that didn’t explain why Sabrina had to wear the lacey-white underthings they had purchased. Or the stockings. Or—

“Ow!” she said, scowling.

The headache was back. Maybe a little bit of the hair of the dog…

“Okay, Rebecca,” Sabrina said. “I’ll be right back. Then we’re going back to the hairdresser to get rid of this… hair, okay?”

Gone was the cynical, whining voice from just yesterday. Her voice was perfectly controlled and understated. She wore Rebecca’s best gold earrings, and an expensive diamond necklace. She even sat with her legs crossed neatly at mid-thigh.

“Fine,” Rebecca replied, meekly. She was still dressed in the flirty white tennis outfit from the previous night. It was wrinkled and askew, now.

Sabrina took a deep breath, stood up on her long white heels, and ambled through the door. Her posture was a distillation of ladylike. A beautiful rear end clung to a blue dress that was equal parts classy and sexy-hot.

The older woman sat down on the bed, composed her rattled thoughts, and packed up the rest of their suitcases.

* * *

Rebecca checked her watch. Twenty minutes had passed. That was far too long.

So she stood up, checked herself over in the mirror, and walked out the door.

There was no one around, not that there ever was.

Mr. Wren’s door was moments away. What could be taking so long?

She heard the noises when the woman was halfway down the hallway. Loud, wet, smacking noises. And a girl’s panting voice, breathless and delighted.

Rebecca walked swiftly towards the door. It was propped open with the bolt-lock, and there was nothing stopping her from bursting in—and—

There was Sabrina, bent over the side of the desk. Her beautiful blue dress was shucked up around her waist, the expensive fabric carelessly wadded up. And her tits, too, they were out, rolling around in her own hands as the platinum blonde groped at her own body. Not even the concealer on her doll-like face could conceal a red glow. The expensive necklace swung with each lewd push.

Mr. Wren barely looked up when Rebecca arrived. He stood behind her, legs spread apart, and a thick, veiny cock was sliding in and out of Sabrina’s wet, red snatch. The white lacey things were around her ankles.

“Ohhhhhhhh!” Sabrina said, long and loud, as Mr. Wren touched off something deep inside her. “Yeah, right there, fuck me right—“

“Good afternoon, Rebecca,” Mr. Wren said, in an even, cordial tone. He was stark naked, and Rebecca’s shocked eyes examined his florid, solid body. She felt drunk again, lost as soon as he affixed his eyes to her.

Sabrina’s eyes opened, and she dimly sought out her step-mother’s motionless form.

“Oh, god, Mom, I’m so sorry, it’s just… he’s so good… and I can’t…. ahhhhhhhh!”

And she rippled and came, right in front of Rebecca’s eyes.

The older blonde could only think of one thing.

Sabrina had called her “Mom.”

“Mom!” she thought, excited. Never, ever, had she come so far. Even “step-mother” had emerged in grudging, scathing tones.

“Don’t mess this up too!” she told herself, and summoned every inch of composure from thirty-odd misspent years.

“Oh, honey, I’m just glad you’re happy,” she said, and sank gracefully into an armchair near the desk.

“It’s just…” Sabrina was clearly having trouble concentrating on anything besides Mr. Wren’s deep strokes. “It’s so good when he pushes, and I got so wet, and I couldn’t stop…”

Rebecca nodded, understanding. “He’s right up against the clit, isn’t he?” she said, sympathetically.

“I… guess,” Sabrina heaved.

“Try pushing back and squeezing. There’s a muscle there, you’ve never used it but you definitely have it.”

That took a moment to percolate through Sabrina’s sodden mind. Then she concentrated, and Mr. Wren grunted. His rhythm sped up.

“Much obliged,” the older man gasped.

“You can match his strokes, too,” Rebecca said. “Push back when he’s pushing in. More friction that way. Plus, I know how good your titties must be feeling right now, but you really should be bracing yourself so you can be a better fuck.”

The blonde let go of her nipples, and clung desperately to the desk. Mr. Wren rewarded her with a twist of his hips, and her mouth made a silent “O” of well-earned pleasure.

For a few minutes Rebecca just watched, happy and dazed, as her step-daughter was steadily plowed by the sweating man. Finally he looked back in her eyes.

“After your pretty little Eliza here needs a break and a nap,” he said. “Perhaps we can teach each other new tricks? Not that I feel like an old dog, just at the moment.”

She shook her head. “Married woman,” she said, giggling.

Mr. Wren took the news with the utmost grace, concentrating again on fucking Sabrina. She had been so wrong about him. All that teasing, really just a very cultured form of foreplay. And Sabrina was definitely showing him what a real woman was about.

Rebecca did let a long-nailed finger slip into her snatch. She had forgotten to put underwear back on.

Besides, she might be older, and a Mom now.

But she could still knock them dead.

* * *

Sunday, 11:40 a.m., Mr. Justin

The bartender was nearly bow-legged.

Jessica had fucked him to near insensibility. Whenever he had been about to pull his shattered senses together and resign, Jessica had devised some new sexual perversion to keep him there.

He had only escaped when the blonde, chewing bubblegum and covered head-to-toe in his cum, had knocked herself out with a particularly hard orgasm.

He had to get out of here.

Tara and Nicole had walked by, arm in arm, as the bartender had stepped out of Jessica’s office. They had torn-apart sex-doll outfits on, and their hands on each others asses.

Even more disturbingly, his irrepressible erection had already returned at the sight of it.

Piano music tinkled through the halls of the Orang Hotel. He stopped, just briefly, to get a drink of water. After slurping it down he had stared, horrified, at the metal dispenser. What if that was how Mr. Wren was getting to them? The water supply?

Too late now. He moved on. The piano notes sprinkled on the air, a very simple melody, just six or seven notes in succession, but well-played.

Justin reached the familiar lobby. On the left side Danni sat with her legs on the desk. She had pink and white socks on, and was sucking on a pacifier with her eyes closed.

He went to the right side of the lobby, where the music flowed from.

From behind all he could see of Meredith was her ravishing red hair and a bright yellow dress. She was seated at the piano bench with her legs demurely crossed, and playing the piano.

He tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned around. Meredith gave him a wide smile.

“Jesus, Meredith, your tits!” he said.

They were jug-sized, wobbling masses of tit-flesh with a great valley squeezed between the two. Parts of her wide, broad aureole extended over the bimboish parody of a cocktail dress, and it was easy to see where her nipples poked at the fabric.

Meredith giggled. He took her arm.

“Meredith, we’ve got to get out of here. Right now. No stopping,” he said, glancing around.

“What?” she said, confused. “Why? Are you alright?”

“No!” At least she didn’t seem as downright dumb as Jessica had gotten, once she got juiced up. “Everyone in this hotel is acting strange. Me. You. God, just look at your tits!”

“It’s hard not to,” Meredith agreed. She looked down, and her fingers stroked at the bottom of her dress. “Aren’t they big? They’re just perfect. I never knew I wanted tits this big until I had them.”

“No, until Mr. Wren blew you up like a balloon!” Justin said. He retreated back behind the bar, and pulled his notepad out of the secret compartment. He shoved it into a back pocket. “He’s doing this to everyone!”

“Yeah, I know,” Meredith said.

Justin looked up. “You know? You figured it out?”

“Well, yeah!” The redhead looked unconcerned. “I’m not stupid. It was either fire us, or make us love our jobs. So he gave me big boobs and he gave Danni cocksucking clit lips. Problem solved.” She stared at him.

“It’s just business,” Meredith concluded.

Justin shook his head, decisively. “You’re just saying that because Wren has gotten to you. Come away with me. We’ll get out of here. It’s too hard to think in here.”

Meredith cocked her head. “And you were going to take me with you?” she said, searchingly.

“Uh, yeah,” Justin looked her in the eyes.

“Even after I blew up at you yesterday, and freaked out?”

“Pretty much, yes. Now, come on.”

Meredith held one hand up. “Okay, we’ll go. But I want you to do one thing, first.”

Justin was already halfway to the lobby door. Danni had woken up, but was still sucking on the pacifier. She watched them both with a lazy, happy smile.

Meredith hauled out a boob. “Touch my boobs,” she said. “Just a little bit. Before we quit our jobs and leave forever. So you see what they’re like.”

“Meredith, this is just what Wren…”

“Trust me! Just… for a moment. You need to see something.”

Justin fought the compulsion.

A sudden hunger, a need, pounded on the inside of his head.

The rational part of him knew that the door was seconds away, that Meredith had been taken in by Wren’s pleasure-happy haze.

Another part of him was walking, entranced, up to Meredith’s inviting brown nipple. She pulled it up to him, and he latched hold.

Something tickled his throat at the first tug. He sucked harder, and was rewarded with a stream of lukewarm, delicious liquid. He looked at her, and she nodded, smiling like a pleased kitten.

“It’s milk,” Meredith said. “Doesn’t it taste great? I’m the perfect waitress, now. Piano playing, good floor show, and I make my own drinks. Danni showed me. It feels so good.”

“I don’t care about anything else, so long as you’re sucking on me,” she concluded.

“This is insane,” Justin mumbled, but he did it around a mouthful of tit, and he couldn’t seem to stop the liquid from coursing down his throat. His other hand was pulling out her second boob, which was dribbling in sympathy.

He looked down. It was impossible to see underneath her leaking boobs, but Meredith had unzipped his fly and pulled out his cock. It was impossibly erect, and already spurting pre-cum onto her hands. She reached up and licked her fingers clean.

“You sure you don’t want to stay?” she said. “You’ve got the perfect job, sooo many benefits, and I will personally make sure you never have a dull moment. All you have to do is, um, milk me. All the time.”

Justin slurped away.

A bit later he was fucking her on the tabletop, pulling in and out while both hands mashed her tits together.

For a moment he had been worried about Caitlyn seeing, but, looking out the window, the blonde lifeguard was busy sucking on Phil’s cock. While fingering herself.

The gangly boy had a slightly worried expression on, for some reason.

“I know I’m all boob now, but it feels good there, too,” Meredith said. “Just keep those hands busy.”

Danni waited, underneath his feet. The dusky girl with the teenybopper outfit had inserted herself underneath them, and waited patiently for flecks of fluid to come near her overheated lips. In the meantime, she had her hands underneath her white shorts.

“Here,” Justin said. He took the flip-pad out from his pants, pushed it towards Meredith. “I don’t think I’ll be using this, anymore. Now that I’m just a cum-fountain.”

“You’re not a cum-fountain, lord. What is this?” Meredith said. She read the first few lines, her lips moving. “Poetry?”

“I’ve been trying to be a poet,” Justin said. “That’s why I kept this crappy job. No one pays money for poetry. So, you know. I don’t know why I kept it secret from you. I guess it was just embarrassing to admit.”

Meredith read out loud.

“The fire-red hair shimmers in the morning, picking her path…” she looked up. “Is this about me?”

“Yeah. Well, you and Danni. They’re not all complimentary. But you were, you know, my inspiration.”

She rewarded him with a smile and a shiver down the length of his cock. Justin sighed, clenched his hands, and emptied his overloaded cock into her snatch. The gobs of cum ran out the sides, and down to Danni’s waiting lips.

Meredith eagerly put some in her own mouth.

“You’ll stay, right?” she said. “You aren’t going to break up the team. I don’t want to lose this job, anymore. So long as you’re here.”

“You’ve done your best to convince me,” Justin said. “Just… I need to talk to Mr. Wren. I’ll be right back.”

He zipped up his cock. It was still spewing cum.

Without missing a beat, Danni stood up and locked her lips around Meredith’s tit. The redhead sighed and closed her eyes.

“Come back soon!” she said, after him. “Wait until you see what Danni can do with her tongue!”

* * *

Sunday, 12:00 p.m., Mr. Justin

The Mother/Daughter duo of guests were just leaving when Justin reached Mr. Wren’s room. Or, at least, that’s who the spastic duo had to be, there being no one else in the Hotel. Otherwise, he would’ve hardly recognized the sparkling blonde with the wrinkled blue dress. Or the older blonde, with one hand still buried underneath her flippy skirt.

The door was open. Justin didn’t bother to knock.

Mr. Wren, fully-clothed in a black suit, was just zipping up his oversized leather suitcase. The room smelled like buckets of wet sex, and Mr. Wren was sweating. All the windows were flung open.

“Ah, Mr. Justin,” the older man said. He mopped his brow. “I have been expecting you. Please, take a seat.”

“Do I have a choice?” Justin spit out.

“You are upset,” Mr. Wren observed. “Always there is someone upset. I give them fun new toys, I work hard to match boys to girls, and still someone has the nerve to complain about endless loads of unmatched sexual bliss.”

He finished with his suitcase. “Yes, Mr. Justin. You have a choice. You can leave my employ. If you do so, no doubt my influence will fade, and you can go back to writing poorly-done poetry that no one ever reads.”

Justin hovered by an arm-chair. The seat was wet. “How did you know about that?”

Mr. Wren tapped his head. “It’s all up here,” he said.

The tailored, expensive accent was gone. Now Mr. Wren sounded like a middle-class Midwesterner. He pulled up his tie.

“I do have one question, one I was afraid to rummage for. Your wonderful martinis. What is the secret ingredient?”

There didn’t seem to be any point in hiding it from the man. “There is none,” Justin told him. “I just make them and tell everyone there’s a secret ingredient. Everyone swears they taste better that way.”

Mr. Wren chuckled. There was still a trace of that aristocratic quality in his laugh. “I suspected, but was afraid to find out. Funny. I suspected we would have much in common in how we work. I sensed a kindred spirit.”

“A kindred… you’ve turned my boss into a bimbo!”

Mr. Wren shook his head. “She ceased being your boss when she signed those documents, last night. No, Ms. Jessica will happily go back to her father, full of business-like triumph. He will marry her very quickly to a promising young gentleman in his business empire. I suspect her next five or six years will be spent creating babies and chewing gum.”

“Her Dad sent you here?”

Mr. Wren nodded, faintly embarrassed. “I do hope to run this place at a profit, but yes, my investment was guaranteed when I arrived. Everything else is simply an… added bonus.”

“So what, you’ve created some sort of.. bimbo gum? Is that it?”

“No, no,” Mr. Wren said. “Hence my comparison to your… illusory… secret ingredient. The gum merely allows the recipient of my attention to… enjoy, shall we say? Rationalize? It’s always amazing to watch the mind at work. The same with booze, or a milky drink, or the sun. People are marvelous.”

“And what did you do to me?” Justin demanded.

“I surrounded you with sex-starved bimbos,” Mr. Wren said. “And perhaps I fiddled with your endochrine system. Nothing exciting. You see, Mr. Justin, I’ve been thinking a lot about you. Are you interested in becoming… management material?”

Justin hesitated. “No!” the fading voice of normalcy shouted.

“I can teach you certain tricks of the trade. They are disturbingly simple. And in the long-term…”

There was a knock at the door. “Maid Service!” Nicole’s luscious voice said.

“Please enter,” Mr. Wren said, absently.

“Mr. Justin, consider it a business offer. My motives are simple. I’ve put in place a very happy and motivated staff. A dedicated manager will make a generous profit. And I believe Ms. Meredith would say you have personal reasons for staying on.”

Nicole and Tara walked into the room. Mr. Wren turned his attention to them.

Both girls wore matching, identical outfits. Which meant a PVC dress in pink, sheath-style, covering both of their overheated bodies. They both had matching pink heels, and stopped in front of the older man for his inspection. Thrusting out their chests for his amusement.

“Good, good,” the man judged, and they both beamed and looked at each other.

“But!” and he held up one finger. Both girls stared at it. “Identical outfits? Tara, come here.”

Mr. Wren eyed Justin. “Take note of this, Mr. Manager.”

“I’m not…”

“Tara, you have such yummy tits. You need to showcase them. Make men aware from the first moment you see them that you have a great pair of boobs.”

He fondled her momentarily, then pushed the girl back. She was sweating.

Nicole stepped forward. “Bend over, dear girl.”

Soon, Justin was staring right at her panty-less, drooling snatch. “Nicole, you know what a beautiful rearend you have. That’s what I want to see. I’m sure Justin here agrees with me. I appreciate the identical get-ups, girls, but the needs of the customer do come first.

“No, don’t get up,” he concluded, patting her exposed ass. Nicole stood there, patiently bent at the waist.

Mr. Wren looked back at Justin. “A poet needs inspiration and funding. I can provide both,” he said. “You can feel free to adjust the staff to something more… sensible? After I depart.”

He looked at Justin with bright black eyes. “And if you agree…” he turned his gaze to Nicole’s trembling rear. “Stick your pen.. into her.”

Mr. Wren smiled. “And after we’re done negotiating, perhaps you can make me one last martini. I somehow expect they’ll taste just as good.”

* * *

EPILOGUE

SOME TIME LATER

“I don’t know what we’re doing here on a weekday,” Samantha said. She had her arms crossed, and glared daggers at her husband. He gave her that weak smile that had once intrigued.

Now it irritated.

“It’s the only time they’re free,” her husband said, apologetically. “It’s very hard to get a room. Couples flock to this place.”

It was also ridiculously expensive. Samantha had watched, shocked, as her husband had tipped the cheerful, lanky bellboy with a hundred dollar bill.

The receptionist wore red and green striped socks and had a collection of pacifiers dangling from her neck, along with a bright pink sweater. She deftly juggled a line of incoming guests and the ringing phone, gabbing happily at a rapidfire pace.

Samantha waited at the bar while her husband stood patiently in line. The pool was packed with scantily-clad wives and girlfriends, all sipping one of the Orang Hotel’s famous Cloudy Martinis. A bikini-clad blonde, with a small tummy bulge, oversaw it all from a spot in the sun.

The piano player worked her way through Chopin. With one hand. The other tapped absentmindedly at the bottom of an oversized chest. Samantha shook her head. Obviously fake.

A man with a bowtie on placed a martini at her table. It was clouded over with something white.

“Oh, I didn’t order…” Samantha said.

The man put his hand up. “Gratis,” he said. He had brown hair and a comforting smile. “Welcome to the Hotel. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

Samantha sipped at her martini. It was delicious.

Was that a hint of milk?

“Maybe I will,” she conceded.