Why Am I Here?
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Coercion, Gay, Heterosexual, Safe Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Petting, Pregnancy, Slow, Caution,
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Why Am I Here? - Two opposite worlds collide through two unlikely yet similar threads - The fashion world, and an unexplainable attraction.
Jameson Mariotti blew his whistle as loudly as he could. Wiping the sweat off his brow, he realized it was just too damn hot out here to practice. Someone was going to get sick if they kept this up.
The team members all trudged in, dreading the end of practice routine. They all thought Coach Jay was going to make them run sprints. Usually, they wouldn't mind, but today everyone just wanted to go home and spend some quality time with their air conditioners.
Jay cleared his throat, getting the teams attention. "Hit the showers, Capers. Good work today. Drink lots of water- I don't want any of you dehydrated for tomorrow's game."
A ragged cheer went up among the student athletes, and Jameson grinned at their reaction. They were all too tired and hot to even breathe. He laughed at the looks of incredulity on their faces- Coach Jay the Maniac- letting them go early? "I'm just as hot as you are- you always forget I run the drills with you. Go on ahead. Get outta here before I change my mind!"
Jameson decided later that day that that tactic was better then sprints. The whole team ran faster then they ever would in drills to the showers, afraid that 'Coach Jay' would make them actually run in this heat.
After Jameson quickly washed his face and put on a fresh pair of clothes, he grabbed his bag and headed outside. The first thing he saw was the limo. The big, black limo he forgot was coming.
"JAY!" A masculine voice yelled from the car. "Is that the way to attend a premier? For a Used Nike sale maybe, but not my company! Thank god we brought a change of clothes for you in the car!"
Jay groaned. God, why today? He ran over and hopped in to the limo- a few of the soccer players whistling as he did. God knew what was going through their minds. 'Coach Jay, the closeted millionaire!'
He had put this out of his mind for as long as possible- he hated these runway shows his parents managed to drag him too. He got out of most, but this one- no such luck. They had quilted him into submission. The man chucked a pile of clothes at him, and told him to go in the back behind the curtain and change. Letting the public see his own son in breakaways was akin to failure.
Jay looked at the clothes and shook his head. Typical Kale Mariotti. The pile contained a polo shirt, designer jeans that happened to have the Mariotti label on them (Shocker) a nice belt, and fashionable shoes. Would his father let him wear anything else, ever? Probably not... Jay'd go to the grave in a polo shirt if his father could help it.
Resigning to his fate, Jay sat back in the limo, and prayed that the night goes quickly without any major glitches.
By glitches, he meant one of his dads trying to set him up with a nice, handsome, rich, good-looking boy.
Adriana was pissed- This show was NOT going as planned. The model was late, and as she was rushing into her elaborate outfit, she ripped the zipper. Well, naturally. The gown was the kind only runway models could pull off without looking like a person running away to the circus. While Lina, the model who was due on the runway in 15 minutes, was stitched into her dress, all Adriana could do was pace and wait until she could slap some makeup on the woman and be done with it.
Adriana loved her job. To her, makeup was an art, and each model was her own personal sculpture, molded and created with colors alone. With these colors, her options were wider then the colors of the rainbow alone- by mixing and blending she could create a piece so unique and special, that the only word for it was art. But art takes time.
And Adriana had none of that.
This was Adriana's only hatred of the job. When she couldn't take the time needed to perfect her work, she was forced to sit in the audience and scowl at the sculpture she had created, grimacing at the pieces barely fused together.
That was what led to her watching this particular fashion show with her tell-tale scowl, taking mental notes on the many imperfections of her work. She took little notice of the other spectators, or even the beautiful clothes running down the aisle one by one. All she saw was the faces, and the mistakes. Her shoulders slumped in defeat as the show came to a close, and she slinked out into the crowd trying to get out without a confrontation.
When the door was in sight, she breathed a sigh of relief and attempted to make her getaway. She saw an opening in the crowd, and tore for the exit. She needed to get away.
Jameson sat through the show, bored to tears. Of course he was fascinated by the intricate designs that only his father could make. But for some reason, this show was just going on, and on, and on. Even looking at the too-beautiful-to-be-true models wasn't making the time pass.
He sighed, and to remind himself why he was here, found his two dad's face's on the other side of the room, one glowing with pride, and the other alight with joy as he watched his work walk down the aisle.
A few seats down from his parents, a face caught his eye. Finally, someone as happy to be here as he was! She was scowling, and taking notes. She seemed to not care about anything else- a reporter? He hoped not, she seemed to be giving a bad review.
He quickly found himself lost in her deep brown eyes. There was the obvious anger there, but hidden underneath, he saw such a deep sadness. Why? What could make someone that sad, that the look never went away?
For an odd reason, he found himself wanting, no, needing to make it go away. He shrugged it off. These shows always made him feel weird. He was probably just trying to connect with her mentally because they both looked like they didn't belong.
Suddenly, he heard applause. The show had ended! He quickly joined the standing ovation, and then went to go congratulate his parents before they got lost in a sea of reporters.
He ran up to one of them, Kale, and gave him a huge hug. "You outdid yourself, once again. Congrats! They loved you!" Kale squeezed his son harder, then got pulled away by his publicist.
He then heard another voice, Mark, his biological dad. "I can't understand why you don't come to these more often, Jay. You being here has completely made your fathers year." Jay managed to look abashed, and Mark laughed, finally shaking Jay's hand. "Ok, now that we have the guilt trip over with, I have someone I want you to meet."
Jay groaned inwardly. Not again. Please, not again.
As he saw a man walking purposefully towards him, Jay used the skills born from soccer to sprint away from his dad and the potential 'suitor.' He wormed his way through the crowd like a forward through a pack of defenders, and tore out the door.
Away from harm, he began to walk normally again. He reached into his backpack and took a swig of the Fiji bottle that had been in there. Finally calming down, he sighed in relief. Water was underrated.
Jay needed time to think. There was a fountain, he knew, somewhere around here. He felt an odd compulsion to go over there, to think about the past few hours. He usually dealt with his parents struggle to 'make him gay.' Why not today?
And there was the answer. He had never thought he could feel what he had tonight. Staring into that stranger's eyes, he felt completely lost, and completely found at the same time. What on earth was wrong with him?
At the sound of water rushing, he smiled, and headed over. There was a bench there, facing the fountain. He plopped himself on it and sprawled out on his back, and he found himself relaxing to the soft lullaby of the flowing water. He closed his eyes, and without meaning to, slowly drifted off to sleep.