Chapter 12: Kitt

Sunday, July 23, 2023

“Kitt!” someone behind me shouted.

I jumped, yelped, and tossed all the patient files I was holding up in the air. Janiqua laughed at my overreaction. I had been sitting in the file room doing my job when she snuck up on me. My heart thumped wildly in my chest. I almost swore angrily but swallowed my words and forced myself to laugh good-naturedly with her. Working in a stressful environment like the ICU was tough, and lately, I was wound up tighter than a memory foam mattress shipped from Amazon.

“Got ya!” she said. “You’re cute when you’re startled.”

“Hopefully, I’m even cuter when I’m not.”

Janiqua looked at me and shrugged. “Eh.”

I waved her off. She gave me a teasing face and left. Janiqua and I hadn’t had sex in weeks. She had started dating a high school math teacher with a body like Dwayne Johnson and seemed pretty happy with him so far.

I didn’t need the extra sex anyway. Over the last month, my life had changed significantly. My FFE page was finally starting to show real promise. The number of subscribers to Super Schlong had jumped from 59 to 507, and it was considered to be one of the hottest-growing male NSFW channels on the platform, according to an article on Adult Amateur Authority posted two days prior. Meanwhile, Delilah’s account had reached insane levels. She was closing in on 5000 subscribers and making over $30K per month, but also doing well enough on Instagram and TikTok that some companies were reaching out to her about possible sponsorships as an influencer.

Just as Kimmy had predicted, showing my face made a huge difference. But more than that, I had started making more content separate from my work with Delilah. However, we continued to produce content together regularly. As our contracts stipulated, she approved all of my posts, and I approved hers. Another difference on my FFE page was that I recently began integrating London into the adult content videos I made without Delilah.

Delilah liked what she saw, and now she and I were discussing London joining us in our first threesome video, which we thought could be a huge hit. Kimmy, who was guiding me on my brand expansion with promising results, had come to town and met London, and the three of us had brainstormed branding. The best of the bunch was London tossing out the concept of her becoming the first “Schlong Slut.”

In essence, Schlong Sluts would be my harem of women, London’s phrasing, not mine, who service the Super Schlong whenever and wherever needed. The idea was to create a loose narrative on FFE of a guy slowly expanding a group of women who lived and breathed to satisfy his monstrous cock, which gradually grows the more it’s serviced. Eventually, my cock would be videoed at its full sixteen-inch glory.

London even designed a few concept graphic designs to print on a shirt she would wear around my apartment and in most of our videos together. The words would form the shape of a giant cock, and at the end of the cock tip was a squirting emoji. It was simple and effective. I was impressed by London’s creativity in coming up with it.

On the other hand, I knew it was just a matter of time before someone I knew stumbled across my FFE page and realized what I was doing. Living a life while waiting for a shoe to drop was hell. I was constantly wound up, which led to me freaking out like I did when Janiqua startled me.

One by one, everyone I loved was going to find out I was engaging in a social taboo for extra money. And I would have to deal with their reactions one by one. My parents. My siblings. My best friend. My coworkers. Everyone.

But until then, I stayed focused on growing my brand. Kimmy taught me the basics of making and editing my first few videos. She showed me ways to simplify posting content across multiple social media platforms. And she strategized with me to plan future content. I owed the success I’d had thus far to her.

Then, there was my second, greater source of stress: Lilly’s task to seduce the hotel night clerk. I still hadn’t done it and only had five days to correct that before losing my gift. I had given the task a ton of thought. I’d gone to the hotel multiple times. But I had yet to even speak with Carol Donovan. I had so many other things to occupy my time and energy: shoots with Delilah, making my videos, my nursing job, and maintaining friendships with people like Bethany and London. It had become easy to let Lilly’s task slide until a couple of days ago.

Now, it was much more of a pressing matter.

“You okay?” Bethany asked, poking her head into the filing room. “You’re white as a sheet.”

I gave my best friend a friendly wave. “Just need my diaper changed. Otherwise, fine.”

Bethany laughed. “I’ll send in somebody to help you with that.”

I went back to my work. Focusing on my nursing duties was getting harder and harder. All of my thoughts were on my other blossoming career. I could spend hours thinking about new shoots, creative video ideas, and different ways to engage with my growing fan base. I wrote all my ideas in a black notebook, which I kept with me at all times. It was also hard not to think about London, who was probably back at my place waiting for me to come home and fuck her silly.

London and I were having so much sex that Kimmy suggested installing house cams everywhere and offering people a subscription level for 24/7 access to everything going on in our apartment. I liked the idea and could see it happening if the brand continued to grow, but not yet. We wouldn’t have enough content, especially on the days or weeks when London and I worked opposite shifts.

I glanced at the time on my phone’s home screen—6:15 p.m. My shift ended in less than an hour, so I planned to bolt home, change, and rush over to the hotel. When I got back to my place, London was doing some CE training on her laptop. She kissed me hello.

In the last month, London had not only filmed a handful of sex and blowjob videos with me, but she’d also all but moved into my apartment. We slept together when we were both home, but our schedules didn’t allow us to spend much time together. It was kind of perfect.

We were not exclusive. London made it clear she had no plans to sleep with other men, and she didn’t mind if I fucked other women as long as they weren’t at my place when she came around.

“I want to spend some time with you tonight,” I said, “but I have to run some errands real quick. Do you want me to pick up something for dinner?”

“No,” she said, “I’m having dinner with friends. Remember?”

She had told me that earlier, but I’d forgotten. That was perfect.

Ten minutes later, I’d showered, changed, and was out the door and on my way. I pulled into the parking lot of the hotel in twenty minutes. It was almost 8 p.m. by then. I checked myself in the mirror and grabbed a stick of mint gum from my glove compartment. I chewed that gum like crazy and spat it out just before entering the hotel.

The hotel was decent. Our town wasn’t large enough to have a lot of hotels, and this was the nicest one. I didn’t see Carol Donovan right away. A young woman stood behind the clerk’s desk, so I spoke to her. She was a pretty blonde girl in her early twenties. She gave me an automatic smile, which broadened and brightened when she saw me approach.

“Hi...” she said a bit breathlessly.

I glanced at her name tag. Becky.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah,” I started, “I’m supposed to meet a friend at the bar. Josh. Did he leave a message for me or anything?”

“I don’t think so. Are you staying with us?”

“No, but he’s staying here.”

Becky, the blonde clerk, looked around for any signs of a message. “Let me check with the manager.”

She disappeared for about ten seconds and returned with Carol Donovan herself. Carol gave me the same automatic pleasant smile the other clerk had initially offered me.

In the picture I’d seen of Carol, she’d had green eyes, black hair, shoulder-length curls, a wide mouth, and nice teeth. She was a little older than her picture but still pretty. Her hair was now streaked with reddish highlights and absent of any curls. Her body wasn’t bad, but it was impossible to see much in her business suit and skirt. She had good hips and nice calves. This was not a situation in which I’d have to close my eyes to fuck her.

“Hello,” she said. “I haven’t received any messages from a Josh. Do you want to wait for him in the bar? It’s open to the public.”

“Sure.” I gave her my most charming smile. “If he ditches me again, any chance you get off soon for a drink?”

Becky gasped lightly and turned away. Carol, on the other hand, let the corners of her mouth twitch upward momentarily, a cocky expression fleeted past on her face for the briefest of seconds, and then said, “I’m married. I’m sorry.”

“Ah...” I said with a pained tone. “My apologies.”

“I’m not married,” Becky, the blonde clerk, said. “And I get off in an hour.”

I gave her a copy of that same charming smile but then answered, “That’s generous, and you’re very pretty, but I have a particular type.” My eyes went back to Carol, who wouldn’t meet my gaze. “If you change your mind...”

“I’ll know where to find you, thanks.”

I gave the desk a quick rat-a-tat-tat, then sauntered toward the bar. Behind me, the blonde clerk whispered, “Oh my God.”

“Shh!” Carol said.

“He’s so hot!” Becky insisted.

“Becky!”

I sat at the bar and drank a diet soda while waiting for a friend who didn’t exist. I played a few games of Freecell on my phone and kept an eye on the Rockies and Giants game on the television. The Giants were up by six runs, so it wasn’t quite captivating. I never knew why the Colorado Rockies had to suck every year, but the universe seemed to demand our sacrifice.

I waited over fifty minutes before heading back into the lobby on my phone. Fortunately, Carol was at the desk again. I caught her eye.

“I guess he got stuck in a meeting,” I told her.

“Sorry to hear that,” she said. Then she paused momentarily and added, “My desk clerk sure took a liking to you.”

“You know, I also got that impression. Did she leave me her number?”

“I don’t think she’d mind if I gave it to you. Do you want it?”

I hesitated, then shook my head. “I don’t want to lead her on. She’s really not my type.”

“But married moms are?” As Carol asked this, a slight flush crept up her neck.

“Not specifically married moms, but beautiful women are.” I did not break eye contact or flinch in any way as I said that.

Carol lightly touched her neck before coming to her senses and going back into night manager mode. “I see. That’s good to know. I’m sorry your friend couldn’t meet you.”

“I’m okay with it. He’ll be in town tomorrow, too, and we’re planning on trying again for a round or two in the evening.”

“Sounds great. I’ll see you then.”

“Looking forward to it.” I gave her a wink and left.

The next day, Monday, I was back at the same time. I stopped by the desk to say hi to Carol. This time, I didn’t put a move on her; I didn’t flirt at all; I just asked how her day was going and told her the offer still stood if she wanted to get a drink.

“It’s very flattering,” she said, again blushing on her neck, “but I would hate to rob you of time with your best friend, who’s only in town for a short while.”

I nodded. “That’s very thoughtful. But what if I said he actually did leave town today? And the only reason I came back here was to see if I could get that drink with you?”

Carol suppressed a grin. “I’d say that was somewhat deceitful.”

“True. It would be. Although sometimes men do stupid things when they see a beautiful woman. May I tell you a story?”

Carol’s eyes told me yes.

“My grandfather was an amateur boxer in Spain for many years. He was good, not great, but audiences loved him because he was entertaining. Boxing was how he supported his wife and children. Many women would throw themselves at him after he won a fight, but my grandfather turned them down—every one of them. The years passed, and my parents moved to America and raised me here.

“Then, one day, when I was sixteen, they took me back to Barcelona to meet my grandfather before he died. He asked if I could speak to him alone. One on one. Man to man. And that was when he told me his life story. ‘All my life,’ he said, ‘I’ve only ever known the love of one woman. My wife, Helena. Your grandmother. And she is a lovely woman who blessed me with three lovely children. And now, I am reaching the end of my life; I look back on those decisions to turn down all those beautiful women. Do you think I regret it?’

“I said, ‘No, Grandfather, of course not.’

“‘Well, you are wrong. I regret it greatly. Helena was terrible in bed! We only had sex once a month with the lights off in the same position each time. It drove me crazy!’”

Carol laughed out loud.

“‘I should have slept with many women! Live your life, boy,’ he told me. ‘Don’t die with a single regret.’”

“Very interesting,” Carol said. “Your grandfather, huh?”

“Well ... someone’s grandfather,” I remarked.

This made Carol laugh even louder.

“Anyway, I don’t care if you’re married or not. I see a beautiful woman I would love to keep company for a little while. If that idea appeals to you, good for both of us. If not, then obviously, you won’t have any regrets.”

Carol pursed her lips for a moment, then broke out into a smile.

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

“Not at all,” I assured her.

“We’ll see...” She reached under her desk and handed me a room key. “Go to that room. I’ll be up in thirty minutes.”

I took the room key, gave her one last look, and went to the elevator. The room key was for #1301 on the penthouse floor. I pushed the button for that floor, but it required that I swipe the key in a reader next to the button for the floor.

Seconds after I swiped the key and the elevator started moving upward, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from an unknown number.

720-555-3131: Kitt. This is Uma Granger. I need you please. I’m at the hotel on Draper Avenue.

“What the fuck?”

I reread the text. Why was she in the same hotel as me? Was this some kind of a joke or a test from Lilly?

Me: Are you serious? Is this real?

Uma: Yes! Please!

Me: What room are you in?

Uma: 1302

I dropped my phone. What the actual fuck? How was this possible? She was right across the hall from the room I had been given. That was too much of a coincidence. I picked my phone off the floor just as the elevator stopped on the 13^th floor. The elevator opened to a small corridor where only two doors stood facing each other on opposite walls—the two penthouse suites.

Me: I’m sorry, but is this real?

The following text I received was not words but a picture. It was Uma’s face, but it was red and swollen. I exited the elevator and looked at the two doors. On the right was where I would meet Carol. On the left was where Uma waited inside, needing my help. I unlocked the room with the key Carol had given me, hurried inside, found a pad of paper, and scribbled down a brief apology note with my phone number. I put the pad on the bed, left the suite, and knocked on Uma’s door.

It took almost a minute before I heard steps inside approaching the door. A wet sniff. Then a husky voice asked, “Who is it?”

“It’s Kitt.”

“Kitt? How ... How are you already here?”

I sighed in relief. “It’s a long story. May I come in?”

One, two, three locks rattled before the door opened. Uma was not visible in the space between the door and the jamb, but she left the door open for me to enter. I pushed inside and closed the door behind me.

The penthouse was large, nicely furnished, and well-lit from the large windows along the west side, giving the occupants a fantastic view of the mountains. In the air, I detected a faint smell of something sour, tinged with stale food and perfume.

I didn’t see Uma at first. I heard a sniffle behind me and found her on the floor in the corner where the walls met next to the door. She was curled into a ball, face covering her hair, clad only in a pair of lacy black panties. Her sexy body suddenly wasn’t so sexy. Bruises covered her arms, legs, stomach, and back. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought she’d recently been in an MMA fight or a car accident.

“Oh my God...” I crouched down next to her to pull her into me, but she jerked away.

“Please don’t touch me,” she said, voice hoarse and broken, face still hidden behind her hair. “Just help me get out of here.”

“What happened? Who did this?”

She shook her head furiously. “I don’t want to talk. I want to go home. I need my clothes. Please. Can you help me find them?”

“Of course.” I had many questions but set them aside and searched the suite for her belongings. There were three bedrooms. Two of them hadn’t been used, but the largest of the three looked and smelled like it had hosted a week-long orgy. Sheets littered the floor; empty restraints lay coiled on the bed alongside discarded sex toys; faint traces of blood dotted the linens in more than one place.

“Sweet mother of Moses,” I said under my breath. “What happened here?”

More toys were scattered on the floor: a wooden paddle, a riding crop, a cane. A half-empty tube of lube lay on the nightstand with more dried and caked around the surface. Several condom wrappers, some opened and some not, were next to it. I finally found a black dress wadded up on the floor. It was slightly torn in places and badly wrinkled. The nurse inside me desperately wanted to don gloves before touching anything. I carefully picked up the dress, wondering if I was disturbing a crime scene.