Chapter 7

The party went on for another couple of hours. Rajiv and Edwina very obviously went another round in the bedroom, then they came out and Edwina gave everybody a hug before they left -- presumably to go home together.

Neither of them was ever the same again. Edwina stopped wearing clothing two sizes too big and designed to hide her and started appearing in public looking and acting more female. Rajiv ditched his shyness. The couple went together for about three months, I think, before parting apparently amicably; soon after that, Rajiv started rotating little hotties through his bedroom to the tune of one every couple of weeks. It took Elliott two weeks to get up the nerve to approach Edwina, but when he did, it stuck; I think they're engaged.

But I'm getting ahead of myself -- there were other things going on, some of them unexpected...

Irene had her work cut out for her. When Robert climbed off, Jim ambled over for a blow job; Irene knelt up and delivered a world-class effort and Jim retired from the field after only a couple of minutes, having emptied his sizeable dick down Irene's throat, grunting. He thanked her, waved, tucked himself in, and hit the door, more or less confirming my assumption that he had a supply elsewhere.

Rudy held off.

Robert waved Irene over to the chair he was sitting in for a blow job. He made a picture, looking like a patrician dilettante, relaxed in the chair looking unconcerned while a black woman gobbled his cock. He even managed to carry on a conversation for a couple of minutes before Irene's big mouth took too much of his attention. I think the woman could dislocate her jaw like a snake; I KNOW she could bury her nose in your crotch and manage to wash your balls with her tongue while swallowing the head of your dick, because she'd done it to me! After a few minutes, Robert got quiet and sweaty-looking, then urgent, then a look of vague surprise crossed his face and he hunched up and clutched her head to his crotch while he undulated a few times, then he flopped back and relaxed again. Irene coughed a couple of times, made a production of swallowing, and got up. Robert, being Robert, thanked her dismissively and that was that.

And Rudy held off.

Robert and Elliott were too fastidious, but given the opportunity, Irwin decided to hold out for the whole experience. "Do you really like anal?" he asked Irene.

Elliott said, "EWWW," and Robert wrinkled his nose, and Irene replied, "It really depends. Generally, I don't, but I have. He just wanted to make sure you get your money's worth." She eyed him a moment. "If you want it, though, Baby, you can have it -- it's what I'm here for."

"I might never get another shot," Irwin allowed.

"Okay, then. I'll bend over the couch arm. The thing about anal is how you do it -- if you take it easy, it'll be better for both of us." Irene shifted her eyes to me. "I can do this dry if I have to, but you'd probably appreciate it if we were lubed..." I figured she was worried about what I would tell Mack, so I waved it off.

"Yeah, good idea..." Irwin grunted. He was anxious to get on with it at that point, not worried about details. Irene got out a bottle of lube that was stored in an end table drawer and said," Rub this on you, Baby -- it'll help." Before handing the bottle to him, she took a squirt in her hand to apply to her ass. Then she bent over the couch arm while Irwin lubed up.

It didn't look like fun. I think Irwin was a little over-anxious and under-lubricated at the start. Irene grunted a lot and didn't say anything about how good it felt -- which for me was a dead giveaway that she wasn't having a good time -- but then, in reality, that wasn't what she was there for...

Irwin grunted and groaned and pushed his meat into her, holding her hips while he did it to stabilize her. Irwin's having a thick cock probably made things worse for Irene, but I guess it just made things tighter for Irwin. He got real happy real fast and I found myself wondering if the whole experience might give Irwin an interest in guys -- he'd had a blow job and an ass fuck and totally bypassed pussy at that point. Robert looking disgusted, got up, dressed, and left while Irwin was still pumping away in Irene's ass, the pair of them more or less grunting in concert. About the time I decided that I really didn't care to watch any more, Irwin got red in the face and jammed away seriously for about six strokes, then let out a protracted grunt. I was pretty sure at that point that his balls were jumping, but I didn't bother to circle around to look. Then he backed off and grunted, "Yuck..." and headed for the bathroom, holding a hand under his dick to keep the goo from dripping off.

Irene clapped a hand over her ass and looked up at me with an expression of mixed discomfort and relief, asking, "Pete, Baby, could you bring me a paper towel, maybe?" I nodded and went into the kitchen to get her something to plug her ass with.

And Rudy held off.

When Irene apparently had her ass under control (after Irwin came back, allowing her a trip to the bathroom, too) Elliott decided to get seconds. Irene wasn't as energetic, but Elliott didn't really care -- and she seemed to enjoy it, anyway. Elliott took his time in her and came away very pleased with his performance, bolstered by Irene's positive reaction. When he was done, he thanked her and went over and collected his clothing and got dressed, asking Irwin, "Had enough?"

And Rudy STILL held off.

Irwin hadn't had enough -- or his head hadn't, anyway. He tried for about ten minutes to get it up again, but anal sex had taken a lot out of him. Eventually, with ill grace, he gave up. Irene wasn't to blame, either; she tried masturbation and another blow job and he just didn't have it in him. Finally, Elliott said, "Come, Irwin -- let's go home." Irwin, embarrassed, didn't have it in him to be gracious, so he grumbled and made excuses all the way out the door.

I became aware of Rudy eyeing me. "So, Pete..." I threw up my hands in the universal gesture of disinterest and disassociation and Rudy finally lumbered forward. "You okay?" he asked Irene.

"I'll live," Irene grunted.

"Got any left?"

"For you, Baby? Sure."

"Let's go in the bedroom," Rudy rumbled, taking her by the hand.

I watched them disappear around the corner, then busied myself picking up the cards and the chips and emptying out half-empty beer cups and such. Irene was on the hook to clean up, too, which was kind of mean in my book, but what the fuck ... I wandered around for a few minutes, then decided that the pair of them really didn't need me -- I could go home to bed and pick up Irene in the morning. I headed for the bedroom to brief the plan becoming aware of a series of pounding smacks and Irene's voice gasping, "Oh ... Shit ... Oh ... Fuck ... Oh ... Baby ... So ... Good ... Fuck..." in counterpoint. Peering around the corner, I found them crossways on the bed with Irene riding Rudy cowgirl -- but Rudy was doing all the work, surging up from below. I'd seen Irene happy -- she'd clearly enjoyed herself with me, for instance, and I figured that Robert had done a good job -- and maybe Elliott -- but one look at her breathlessly beatific expression told me that she was in a totally different place. Rudy was ramming what looked like a foot-long salami up into her from below and she had nothing but praise for his efforts. There was white foam around the base of his cock, and I was willing to bet it was new juice from her -- not leftovers from someone else -- being whipped into a froth. Rudy had a titty in each hand, rubbing nipples, and Irene was leaning into it, bracing her small frame against his hands. As I watched, she reached down to stroke his face and rub his shoulders, gasping out her pleasure a word at a time. Maybe it was voyeurism, or maybe I was genuinely concerned about disturbing what was obviously an intimate moment, but whichever way you slice it, I hung out without announcing myself while Irene's sounds of pleasure got louder and more urgent and the expression on her face got more and more intense until she was screeching, "OH! BABY! FUCK! SHIT! FUCK!" Then her eyes rolled up in her head and she started to shake and the sound of Rudy's strokes got sloppy and wet while she arched herself backward and whined through her clenched teeth! I certainly hadn't accomplished THAT! She flopped forward, panting, and gasped, "Jeezus, Baby! Where the fuck have you been all my life?"

"Waitin' for the day," Rudy puffed, "Waitin' for the day."

"Don't let me hold you guys up," I announced myself. "Irene, I'm going home. You guys enjoy yourselves and I'll pick you up in the morning ... Is that cool?"

"Uh ... huh!" Irene nodded.

"Yeah, thanks, Man," Rudy gasped.

"Don't hurt yourselves..." I laughed, and hit the door.

The next morning, I got up, cleaned up, and wandered over to the party apartment to look in on the disaster. Irene was up and moving -- slowly. Given what she'd been through, I really didn't blame her. "Sore?"

"Tired," Irene grinned. "It was a long night BEFORE Rudy came along ... He's that tricycle guy, right?"

"Troglodyte," I corrected. "Yes."

"So he lives alone?"

"Well, without a woman, anyway. He's got a couple of college guys that split the rent with him when he can catch them," I amplified.

"He should have hot and cold running women, that one," Irene announced. "You do all right, and that Robert was pretty good -- but Rudy? Oh. My. God! He..." She shook her head. "After you left I ran out of energy -- well, it was after I came again and he did, too, once -- and he picked me up like I was a Barbie doll and actually STOOD UP and held me in the air while he pumped that fire hose of his into me! I think I blacked out a couple of times!" She shook her head, obviously remembering on helluva bout. "I lost count..."

"I'll tell him you had a good time," I chuckled.

"Oh, he knows..." Irene dimpled.

As I was driving her home, I asked, "So what's up with the cleaning company?"

"They want a personal reference," Irene replied. "I don't have anything eye-catching. Most people I know aren't sterling sources, if you know what I mean."

"So give them me," I told her, digging for one of my fancy new business cards.

Irene looked dubious. "What would Mack say? You work for him..."

"In the first place," I countered, "it will mean you have rent money. Mack will like that -- I will like that. In the second, I don't just work for Mack -- I own five percent of the business. That makes me a partner and an owner."

"Oh..." Irene looked bemused. "I'll try it, then."

"Better than that, do you have the number of their HR jerk?" I replied. "I'll call the fuck."

"I dunno..."

"Okay. Give them my name and particulars," I told her. "If they don't call by tomorrow afternoon, we'll know they're scratching their asses and I'll call THEM. Deal?"

"Deal!" Irene grinned.

They called at about three. Mack and I were at the usual place, so things were a little noisy. "Hello?"

"Yes, is this..." the woman managed to garble my last name.

"It is," I rumbled, mildly offended.

"This is Ellen Carstairs of Workplace Pros Cleaning Services. Do you know an Irene Harris?"

"I do."

"She gave your name as a reference," Ms. Carstairs said primly.

"I'm aware," I replied. "It was at my insistence, actually."

"I see," Ms. Carstairs replied. "May I inquire as to your position at..." she read off the name of Mack's business -- OUR business, actually.

"I'm a partner," I replied. "I'm in charge of marketing and profitability forecasting, among other functions."

"You're not in your office, I presume." Ms. Carstairs was NOT making points.

"I'm at a function with the president of the company. Your interest in that is?" I snapped.

"Um, sorry, sir. How do you know Ms. Harris?"

"She's a tenant. We hire her occasionally to clean up apartments," I replied.

"I see." Carstairs obviously expected this reference to be useless -- and it was turning out to be otherwise. "How often do you do that?"

"As recently as last night," I replied. "Look, Irene has an iron will and is service-oriented. If you hire her, she'll be running a crew in three months -- smoothly. She does whatever it takes to get the job done."

"Thank you for your candor. We'll be looking much harder at this application based upon your statements."

"What else does she need?" I asked.

"Well, yours is a sterling recommendation, but..."

"Who the fuck is that?" Mack asked.

"HR from the cleaning company Irene applied to. She's looking for references," I replied.

"Gimme the phone." Mack snatched it. "Who is this? Awright, Ms. Carstairs, I'm Pete's business partner -- and the president of the company. You wanna know about Irene? She's got two little kids and she's starving herself to death so they can eat while she waits for assholes like you to consider giving her a fucking job. She can work rings around your ass -- but she's black, so she's screwed at the outset. You need to get off your ass and hire her before she CAN'T work -- get me?" He handed me the phone.

Carstairs was still sputtering. "Um, sorry about that. My partner is a little unvarnished in how he handles things. But if you clean it up a little, that's another recommendation."

"That was nasty!" Carstairs snarled.

"Maybe," I agreed, "but there was a lot of plain truth to it."

"She did appear to be somewhat thin and wasted..."

"And you thought she was on drugs, didn't you?" I pressed. "Ask for a drug test. I'm pretty sure what the results will be."

"I'll take that under advisement," Carstairs muttered. "Thank you for your time."

I hung up. "You might have fucked, her, Mack."

"Yeah, well, maybe not. If it looks like I did, maybe I'll give her a break," Mack muttered.

Irene called an hour later. "I go in at four to fill out paperwork!" she gushed. "What did you tell them?"

"I told them I'm your landlord and that you sometimes clean apartments for me," I related. "Then Mack got on the phone and called the HR person a worthless twat. She got all excited, and now you've got a job," I finished, grinning.

"He didn't, really, did he?" Irene asked.

"Well, no, but he came pretty damned close -- you know Mack. He wasn't complimentary. Then again, she deserved a chunk of it."

"Well, it seems to have worked, one way or another," Irene sighed. "Thanks -- both of you."

"We told 'em you'd own the place in six months," I chuckled. "Don't disappoint us!"

"No problem!" she assured me, and hung up.

"You're still a soft touch, Pete," Mack grunted, "but that's probably the way to handle it."

"Yeah, well..."

He sat staring off into space for a bit, then said, "Keep Friday open."

"Cards?"

"Charlene."

"Oh." I'd forgotten about the impending gang-bang.

"I'm not real comfortable about this bunch," Mack grunted. "And there's Teresa. I'm gonna want to take out insurance."

"Okay." God knew what he meant -- I didn't.

I got gratitude in various forms from just about everyone for the party -- including Edwina -- but Rudy had other fish to fry when he popped up on IM Thursday:

Troglodyte77: Hey.

Zapmaster6: Hey.

Troglodyte77: About Irene...

Zapmaster6: Yeah?

Troglodyte77: Did she say anything about me?

I chuckled to myself. Mack gave me a look. I was on my laptop at the bar.

Zapmaster6: Only that you were the hottest thing since sliced bread...