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This fucking guy.
I hate my job.
“Here’s your mail.”
2
OLIVIER
I’ve shocked him, and this makes me happy. Drew needs to lighten up. I live my life by one rule: Have fun. Life is a fucking party, and if you’re not having fun, why bother? I don’t care if you’re a CEO or a doorman, fun is for everyone. “You are late.”
“Apologies,” Drew says, holding out my deliveries.
I casually stroll over to take them off his hands. Just as he’s turning to leave, I say, “Would you mind grabbing me the scissors? They’re in the knife block.”
He scowls, casting a dark gaze down at me. “Excuse me?”
“Just over there,” I point to the kitchen.
My night doorman appears momentarily stunned, and then his jaw clenches hard before he does as I ask.
I walk my deliveries over to the coffee table in the living area, snort a line of coke, and take a seat on the sofa. The leather is cold against my bare ass as I sniff, rubbing the tickle from my nose.
The drug goes immediately to my head, brightening the apartment by a factor of ten.
Scissors appear over my left shoulder.
“Will that be all?”
Ooo…he sounds pissed. I laugh, but it comes out more like a giggle. Ah…cocaine.
I take the scissors and notice him looming. He’s handsome. Too good-looking, really. He should be in movies.
But he’s not. He’s done nothing with his looks or his life for reasons I can’t begin to fathom, nor would I want to. He probably gets laid as much as I do, although I get laid because I’m rich as shit—he’s actually built and good-looking. If he were rich, too? He’d be drowning in pussy. Smothered 24-7 with it. Living the dream. Too bad he’s a doorman. He probably could have been a model. Those cheekbones. The lips. Even his glare is tailor-made to be photographed from every angle. What a waste.
“Aren’t you curious what I got?” I ask, mainly to drag this moment out and annoy him. I’ll buy myself a present if I ever manage to coax a laugh out of him, but he doesn’t seem to care for my sense of humor if past is predicate.
“All due respect, why would I be? I just work here.”
“Because sometimes I get fun shit. You know what fun is, right? Drew?”
“I’ll see myself out. Have a nice day, sir,” he says like it’s taking all his willpower not to bitch-slap me on my own couch.
I snicker and reach for the first package as the door to the penthouse snicks shut.
I laugh again when I notice I’m sporting a semi. Cocaine makes me horny. Really horny. So horny that the package is going to have to wait five minutes.
I take hold of my cock, stroking it until it’s thick in my grip. Leaning my head back, I picture Elise and Sierra in my bed upstairs, touching each other the way they had for me only a few hours ago, their tongues swirling together while delicately licking my dick, their fingers greedily rubbing each other’s clits as they writhed between my legs, high and drunk and loud and messy. I could go up there and put my erection to better use, but I’m halfway to coming already and lost in my own musings.
As the fantasy evolves into lesbian face sitting, a powerful spurt of pre-cum has me thrusting my cock into my fist. I’m moaning loud enough for the Yankee next door and his kids to hear.
I jerk faster, the cocaine giving me superhuman speed, and then I come—choking around a laughing cry as my jizz sprays the packages two feet away on the coffee table.
Fucking awesome.
Today’s gonna be an amazing day.
After engaging in one more round of debauchery with my guests, I send the ladies back out into the world, high on the best coke in the city and with a few more marks to remember me by.
