THREE MONTHS AGO

That bartender was hot. I should've got her number for a quick hit. That'll be a great way to return the favor. It was nice of her to keep my wallet safe. Still...I should check to be sure. It's rare to find a wholesome woman these days. Also, phones can hack the chip on cards and withdraw straight to a device. Cash can be stolen over airways. There's no need for ATMs anymore. I remove my wallet from my pocket as I walk the dim golf course. From my jacket, I pull out my phone and log into an app that connects each card balance. The first four have a sum of $10 billion, and the other six hold $7.4 billion.

So, blondie was telling the truth? Now I really want to share my appreciation. The paved walkway of the golf course curves into a parking lot. My navy, red Drako hums there. Its triangle spotlights slice through the night. My ride senses when I'm close and raises its doors. The white suit I wear flaps in the wind as I dip inside. She was fun. I wonder what her name is. Most blondes are either Jessica, Blake, Ariana, Rebecca. Amy. It's probably one of those. The Drako seals its doors. I rev the engine and blaze out of the lot. The tires burn gravel-the crisp wind tussles my hair.

My mind travels back in time to the dirt bike races I attended. I'm spoiled by speed-a true speed demon. I miss air gliding, the height, the deadly jumps. Work is limiting my thirst for being a daredevil. I can't go away for weeks for tournaments anymore. All I can do is golf. Jet packing, skydiving, space trips, and submarine tours are currently unavailable. I must be in close vicinity of Strygent labs and tower at all times for business. 

Playing an old man's sport isn't my choosing. I'll never know why my investors dote on it. They're lucky I need their support. I steer the beast ahead effortlessly, whipping the machine around corners. The growling engine hardens me. The reckless driving excites me...just as that hottie did. What is it about snarky women? Why are they such a turn-on? This one especially. She seems hard to get. Not money hungry like the other women I've fucked. This one is a challenge.

The sports car darts between meager opponents who obey the limit. The reflections of the towering skyscrapers flash the glass. I floor it to beat the red lights. The penthouse smells of booze and sex: just how I left it. I go to the bedroom, where three naked women sleep. Their busty breasts are out, and their legs are sprawled together. I take off my blazer and walk to the dresser to store my wallet. 

I lock the drawer with my fingerprint. It beeps, and shutters close. These bitches will rob me for more than I'm paying them. If not all. I recall the blonde and her pretty hand passing me the wallet. Her long, slim fingers. I wish my dick was in its place. My gut heats; my penis jerks. Oh, yeah, I'm horny. "Play music." The house's AI fulfills my request and bumps a rock song. The gorgeous women on the bed stir awake. Two are redheads, and the other is yellow-haired. I forgot their names since this is just a pay to fuck arrangement. I kneel on the bed. "Ready for round 3?"

The chicks gather around me like zombies, removing my shirt, pants, and boxers. Their lazy mumbles radiate my tip. One lays between my legs, the other mounts her, and the last goes behind me. I'm sucked from the front and bottom and knuckled fucked in the ass. Their hot tongues and fingers spear the three holes. I grumble at their flawless motion. The one that blows me is energetic and vocal. 

I ram her head deeper, so my big dick is down her throat. The gagging noise is a sweet harmony. I shut my eyes and sigh from the simulation. The blondie's bashful face riddles my thoughts. How she swallowed before speaking. The navy-blue eyes. The gentle voice as she said, "fast hands." How she cockily juggled the bottles. Again, I want to swap places with the things she held. I bet she tastes as great as the Commonwealth did. Top tier and savory.

The one eating my cock incorporates a hand job. I gasp, picturing the bartender's slim lips and perfect skin: her throat flexing, her hot hands around the leather wallet. I moan. The three-way attack on my meat has me damn near yodeling. I summon her voice in my head. "I told you I'm fast. Now you can add accurate to the list." I cum like a busted pipe. SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT. 

The three-way quickens; the women titillate my openings like Medusa. I rain from all exits as if a sprinkler, slopping out thick cream. The chicks drink my fluids, moaning enthusiastically. I switch with them to operate on their coochies. Two with my fingers, the other with my tongue. I'm going to make them squirt up a storm. I dig for the gold mine within the wet caves. Finding the G spot about 0.5 inches from the entrance, on the vaginal wall. My tongue and fingers curl upwards towards the belly button. A patch of rough flesh ensures that I located the sweet spot.

I go on stimulating their raw meat, twisting and patting. Their screams are heaven. Their seizuring bodies jolt. All three shriek like dying horses. "Ahhh!!" The first explodes silly string; a gluey spiderweb spans her legs. The second one squeezes her legs shut and yells to the top of her lungs. A rolling wave splats out. 

I spread her legs; the goo hangs like a bridge. I pull back and use both hands to finish off the last one while the others exclaim as if in labor. I go slower with the yellow head. Her heart-shaped lips and big brown eyes widen with fear and pleasure. I clamp her legs, so my hands are trapped between as they tinker. The screech that follows isn't human-like at all. It's savage. I inch her legs apart enough that a fountain stream can shoot up. I drink the watery semen.

Afterward, I watch them lather up in the shower. Their heads, all the way down to their toes, are covered in white bubbles. The redheads make out. The other kneels before them, pecking at their pussies. I sip on booze and enjoy the show. About twenty minutes later, I bid the groupies farewell; holding the front door open for them. "Thank you for your service."

"We should do this again soon."

"No...thank you, Mr. Magic."

"Has the payment gone out?"

"Yes." I nod. "$5 million has been deposited into your accounts."

"Pleasure doing business."

"Likewise." Once they're out, I close the door. For some reason, this feels shallow. I'm used to paying for sex. I've been doing it since college. So why does it feel less exciting all of a sudden? I view my bank app; the 5 million dollar deductions show there. I hoped the sight of the missing cash would enlighten me. It doesn't. I bash my brain for an answer. Is it because of what happened earlier? As if a mental movie rewinding, I'm taken back to the conversation at the bar. With the blonde bombshell. I recall the utter disbelief when discovering all the ten cards inside. "Why didn't you steal it?" My eyes lock on hers. "I would have."

"Maybe because I'm not that desperate...or that dumb."

ONE WEEK LATER

Library Bar

The bar is crowded and noisy, given it's a Saturday night. Jim brings four commonwealths to our table. He passes out the beverages before sitting. These are my investors I hang with a few times a week. Simple men in suits who hold a lease on my business finances. "So...how were your new skanks?" 

"They were okay," I reply dully.

"Just okay?" Jim laughs. "Dude, just stay with porn stars; it's better than disappointment."

"They're too fake."

Ren holds up a hand while he downs a swig. "He's not wrong. I hate nothing more than a woman who fakes it."

"You can tell them not to." Chester begins. "That's what I do. It always solves the problem."

"That ruins the mood..."

"It doesn't, Jacy boy, trust me. You have to train them."

"Screen them over video and judge that way," Ren instructs.

I lift my glass. "Eh...I don't know; I think I need to find a better crop."

"How about MILFs?" Jim wiggles his brows. "They're sexually deprived; a blast in bed too."

"Not my thing."

"College girls, maybe?"

"Maybe." I drink the luxury cocktail. I wait for the standard refreshing effect. Instead, I'm repelled. I lower the glass and frown. "What the hell?"

"Uh oh...bad mix?" Jim watches me.

"You should clean shop and replace the workers with drones. That could be our next investment." Chester jokes.

I get up and near the long, wooden bar. The tender hands beer mugs to a big-bellied guy before he notices me. "Hello, Mr. Harrison. What can I get you?"

I place the drink on the counter. "There seems to be a mistake."

"Oh." Billy, a skinny, hairy man, examines the commonwealth. "I'm sorry, a bad one must have slipped through. I'll whip you up a new one, sir."

"Thank you."

I watch him gather the ten ingredients and pour each into measuring cups before transferring the liquids over ice. The worker mixes the beverage thoroughly and then slides it my way. That seems to be correct. I sip the frosty brew. The same gross taste from before layers my tongue. What the hell? It was made correctly. I should know. I've been a customer here for years. My favorite cocktail has never been so revolting! I survey my old glass and the one I'm holding.

"Is there an issue?" Billy asks.

I want to say yes...but the issue isn't clear. My flavors must be out of whack. I saw him follow precise instructions. So, what's the problem here?? "No...it's fine. Thank you." I return to my group and sample the beverage again. It tastes like shit! How? This is my designated joint.

"Now that your drink is amended, we need to discuss the new models." Ren zeros in on me. "Mostly their ROI. How well are the projections?"

I dismiss the terrible brew and fold my hands. "As of now, 65% of customers have preordered the Stryger 22. The Sea-Pactor is on EPA's radar. ROI will be met twice over."

"Twice over?"

"Far past 200%, according to my analysts."

"Wow!" Jim applauds. "You've outdone yourself."

"Might I request more intel on the next models?"

"Sure, Chester, but I'd rather you view a live presentation. Drop by the lab on Monday. You all should."

Ren finishes his drink. "Will do. Now, what about the plastic reducer one? That has to be the VIP of the lot."

"As of right now, the Pfilter is complicated. The design is still in protocol, and the material is questionable. Maybe around Mark 4 or 5, these issues will be corrected."

"I'll be awaiting the improvements. I call dibs on that one, boys."

"No such thing as dibs as a group," Jim argues.

My eyes drift far away while the two bicker. This is a bizarre night. I'm used to getting an answer, not decoding an issue. My pensive gaze remains for a good while. Long enough to disrupt the conversation...long enough that I'm the only one with a full glass. I snap out of the haze and stare at my company. They're silent now and have their eyes on me. "What?"

"It's a chick, right?" Jim grins. "How bad is she?"

"More like what's her hair color," Ren adds.

"My guys, none of those matter. What's her cup size?" Chester's question annoys me the most, so I focus on Jim's. His is the most tolerable...and somehow, is the answer I was looking for. How could I forget my chat with the babe from the country club? Especially with how impeccable her mixology was. My usual bar is now ruined because of her. That's what's going on here. The hottie put Billy to shame.

"Where'd you meet her?" Jim digs.

"At the country club."

Chester squints. "We didn't see you talking to anyone."

"It wasn't on Sunday, that's why."

"She must be a high-rank, judging by how you just zoned out."

"Hair color?" Ren smirks.

"Blonde."

"Oh, perfect, they're the freakiest. Give us the dirty deets, don't be stingy."

"Nothing dirty happened. I dropped something." I omit it being my wallet, so I'm not made fun of. "The chick held it for me."

"Oh, she held it for you, huh?" Chester hints like a teen boy.

"What was it?"

"Doesn't matter... she returned it."

"So, is she a guest, or does she work there?"

"She's a bartender."

Ren beams widely. "Did you get to second base?"

"No, nothing dirty happened. It was just conversation."

"Wait...so you met a hot babe and didn't hit it?" Chester gawks. "You're falling off, man."

"She's not my usual type."

"Stuck up?"

"No...more like the humble and blunt."

"Uh oh..." Jim sniggers.

"What?" I'm clueless by his amusement.

"Is this a girl you can't get?" The other two laugh. "There's always one that gets away."

"I'm not saying that."

"Hmm...you don't have to; you're used to paying women. This one isn't into that."

"Everyone is controlled by money."

"This chick isn't. You said it yourself. But let's make this more interesting. How about a bet?" Chester rubs his hands together. "I bet you can't get her."

I scoff. "I can."

"Alright, $50k says you can't."

I harden my gaze. "Deal."

"Hey, we want in," Jim complains.

"Too late."

"When? Name the place and time."

Chester eyes his golden watch. "How's tonight? The club is open until 10."

I think it over. That's pretty sudden...then again, I would like a better commonwealth. I want her version of it to wash the poison from my tastebuds. "Alright...I'd like a better drink, anyway. This one's crap."

"Easy money, man."

"It's not." I stand. I should take the glass to start the chat...and praise her work. My charm will have her melting in no time. I grab it and exit the bar.

FIVE DAYS LATER

I sit at my desk at Strygent towers, sorting through mock-up designs for a car model. With each page I flip, I reminisce about Saturday night. I enjoyed complimenting her craft. Enjoyed her spot on reaction to the horrific brew. Madison's humor is perfect. Most women either try too hard or too little. She goes for the funny bone with ease. How she threw the drink in the trash still has me entertained. Her criticism towards Billy's mixing and towards me was a turn-on. 

I've never met such a blunt woman. Who says what they think without fear? I was belittled, put in place, and rejected. I should be mad; I lost the bet. Instead, I can hardly wait to see her again. Does she really not know who I am? Madison wasn't tempted by my high status as CEO of a groundbreaking industry! She should have been at my feet, as all women have been. What the hell? That should have hooked her. I even asked if she enjoyed her job, hoping to offer her the high life if the answer was no.

I replay our chat:

"I mean, it's a job. I can't really say I do it for enjoyment."

"Why do something you don't enjoy?"

"To survive...you know that thing people lower than you have to do?"

"I'm sure you could find one you love. What are your interests?"

She sucks in a breath and glares at me. Even her anger is attractive. "If it was that easy, no one would be miserable."

"I like how snappy you are."

"Oh, you haven't seen the half of it."

"I bet. You must tell off men here all the time, huh?"

"Only when they're entitled pricks."

I think I'm into difficult women. I never thought I would be. I enjoy ordering my sex slaves around. Could I order her next Sunday? I think the $500 solidified my hold on her, despite her denying me. The chick turned down a billionaire...but I don't think she will for long. If I have to try every Sunday, I will. I hate losing. I wouldn't mind seeing her skin glow again. She looks amazing in the sunlight.

My phone beeps:

Chester: Still blue balled 🤣 

Me: Fuck off

Chester: Ahhh, forbidden fruit 😌

Me: 😒

Chester: 😉

Me: The cash will reel her in

Chester: it's been 5 days...if it hadn't yet, it won't. Sorry bro, can't have them all.

I'm enjoying the cash 😎 let's do another bet.

I turn my phone face down. Everyone falls for money...for security and stability. Madison will come around soon. I had her boiling at that bar, blushing, and damn near swooning. She'll be a token in my sex collection. I know how the game works...she'll be worth the wait. If she's that fiery, I can't imagine how untamed she is in bed. 

At home, a Korean woman strips in front of me. I watch TV. KTLA News is on, reporting on my upcoming EXPO. The product lineup is listed on a bulletin board. The sound is muted, and closed caption is on. This is done, so the only sound I hear is sex noises. The lady wiggles out of her underwear in a fluid belly dance, then comes to the sofa. I pull at her ponytail while she rolls down my trousers. The sexy woman gives me a lap dance, bouncing on my spring. Her ass is huge...bubble shaped, and her waist is a perfect hourglass.

The chick moans are loud and high-pitched. I lay my head back and groan at the heavy impact. I'm hammered into. I grope her ass and jam her into me. Smack smack smack smack. We orgasm at the same time. I glance at the penthouse windows. That's where I take her. I flatten her naked body to the cold glass and ass fuck her. The streaking from the windows fires me up. I vibrate violently inside her. "Yes, daddy! Give me more!" The model begs. "Fuck me harder!!"

I plow the whore, going balls deep at turbo speed. Our whacking skin jiggles. I heave and grunt, then bomb inside her. "Aaah!!"

"Hmmm...fuck me more!" 

My palms brace the window. I prepare to drill her, but my attention is caught by a reflection in the mirror. What? Huh??? I pause and squint, not understanding why a photo of Madison is on the TV. I pull out of the flesh slut and turn to see why. The headline reads: 

Victim Madison Hart Involved in Attempted Kidnapping By Uber Driver. 

I frantically read the closed caption: The young woman jumped from the vehicle and is currently severely injured.

I stop breathing, my eyes buck, and my heart sinks. No... The late morning darkens around me all of a sudden. The image of Madison on the television weakens my knees. Baffles my mind. Car accident? Attempted kidnapping? Severely injured??! What the fuck?! I was looking forward to our next chat. The future Sundays were marked in my mind as if a holiday. Now a sad holiday, unfortunately. How did this happen? 

"Leave," I instruct the naked model, who shuffles to retrieve her clothes from the floor. I pace to the tv, reading every word spoken by the reporter.

The young woman was rushed to Dignity Health. The Uber driver is believed to be on the run. The worker has sexual abuse records dating back five years. Uber has not shared a statement on its evaluation process. 

This can't be the same girl I met. What are the odds?? Maybe I saw the photo wrong. It could be someone who looks like her. It could be. I try to convince myself to fend off the grief cumulating in my gut. No...it was Madison...those dark blue eyes belong to her. Unyielding eyes...full of life and content. FUCK! 

I tear my sight from the flatscreen. I have to do something. I have to see her and pay my respects. I clean my tip and dress in a button-up and dark jeans. The Drako screeches from the parking garage into traffic. Of all the people in the world, why Madison? The one person piquing my interest? It's unfair. God, I hope she recovers! Her injuries have to be bad. Damn it! I needed another chance...another meeting. Will she live?