Hawaii

I just want to moan.

"What did it feel like when she was licking your pussy and Paul's hard cock was deep inside you, V? Did you want to cum? Did you want to cum the second her tongue touched your-"

"Tony, stop," I managed to moan. "Fuck." My breath was ragged. I knew that much. If he kept this up, I might cum. Perhaps that's what he wants. Perhaps. And speaking of wanting, where is Paul right now? Why am I alone with Tony again? This seems to be a recurring theme on this trip.

"You want Paul," he smirks lewdly. Callously. Crudely. As if he's taunting me, bribing me. "You want Paul and I want you."

I swallow away the tension in my throat.

"I want you to swallow," Tony leers. "V, I want you to-"

"Tony," I manage to find my voice. "Tony, let's just watch the tape."

And we did. For two hours, we sat watching the tape of last night. Tony behind the camera the entire duration. Of course, he joined in. Don't even stop to think that he didn't. He joined in, but he managed to film as he fucked. Don't ask me how. Tony is obviously the next Seymour Butts. And he enjoys that. He enjoyed fucking Silver up the ass as he video-taped. He enjoyed watching the playback of this scene, Silver's tongue blending with my own as she cooed and moaned and begged him to fuck her harder. As I begged Paul to do the same.

Paul fucking V will forever be emblazoned in my mind. Not just from the video, but from the reality. The reality of the loud slaps of skin on skin. The taste of his sweat on her body. The beauty of a stunning female and the most gorgeous man I have ever laid eyes on…together. I want to remember that forever. And now, there's a video to remember it by.

And all the other positions.

There are only so many positions in the Kama Sutra, and I firmly believe that we exhausted them all. Tony behind Silver, Paul behind me. Switch. Paul behind Silver, Tony deep inside me. Switch. Silver and I on top of one another, Paul switching from one offered hole to the other. Silver on top of my sweating body, Tony switching off. Oral. Anal. Vaginal. You name it, we did it with Silver. If Tony paid for her, she was worth the money.

"She was worth the money," Tony sighed as the video ended, echoing my own thoughts.

I nod. "She was really a hooker?"

Tony grins. "Why the fuck would I lie about that shit, V?"

I don't know. Why would Tony do half the things he does? Why would he hire a hooker to fuck us in the upstairs of a sex club? Why would he bring us to a sex club? Why would he bring me on vacation with him and Paul and-

"V?"

"Yeah, Tone?"

He's toking from the joint. He frowns, then grins, then exhales. All in a second's length of time. He grins again. "Would you ever have sex for money?"

I laugh. What the fuck else am I supposed to do? I think Tony has entirely lost his mind. Yes, he's totally lost it. "No, Tone."

"You sure about that?" he beams.

I shrug. "No. Why, you offering?"

Tony slouches down into the sofa and smirks. "Well, technically I did and technically you said yes."

I raise an eyebrow.

"I paid 50% of your trip to Hawaii now, didn't I?"

I nod. I hate where this is headed.

"And you agreed to sleep with me for that," Tony beams with pride. "So technically, you're my whore."

"I didn't agree to sleep with you," I argue. It's somewhat pointless to argue, but I'm going to go down fighting anyway.

Tony shrugs and inhales more pot. "Technically, you did, V. But let's not argue that. Would you ever have sex for cash?"

"No," I shake my head.

"Never?"

"Never."

"What if the cash was from someone you would have slept with anyway?"

"What are you asking me?" I raise an eyebrow and sigh. Fuck, I am going to need more of that joint if he keeps this conversation up.

"I'm asking you," Tony laughs, sitting up further and passing me the joint. "If I asked you to take money from someone for sex, would you do it?"

I can't answer that.

"If you would have slept with that person anyway?"

I'm going to try and wrap my high mind around this one. Sigh. Okay, here goes. "So like…role playing? You want me to pretend to be a prostitute?"

"Kind of," he frowns. "But not really."

"What does that mean?"

Tony takes a deep breath and considers my question. He's being serious, and I hate that. It makes me worry. Why am I so programmed to be concerned when Tony Lovato is being serious? Previous experience, I guess.

"What does that mean?" I repeat. "Because I don't really like what you're-"

"It means this," Tony smirks and slouches back into the cushions. "I've got a fucking hot as fuck plan for tonight. You can't say no, V. I won't allow it. So just hear me out, okay?"

* * *

I'm not sure how I feel about this idea. Not sure at all. But despite my one hundred hesitations, somehow, Tony has managed to get my ass into this pleather nurse's uniform. Yes, plastic leather. Faux leather. PVC. Call it whatever the fuck you want, but it's tight and itchy and I'm already sweating in this shit. Perhaps I should have chosen the latex maid uniform instead? Fuck if I know. I'm nervous. So fucking nervous.

He wants me to go out into the hotel bar and seduce a stranger for cash. But not just any stranger, apparently, Tony has already chosen someone downstairs. Yes. He's already assigned a specific man for my task. I don't know this man. At least, I don't think I do. All Tony has informed me is to look for the man in the pinstriped business suit and the black fedora, smoking a cigar at the bar. A fedora? Who the fuck wears a fedora in Hawaii? Seriously! Of course, I suppose the same could be said for a pleather nurse's uniforms.

Trying to walk in this thing is a task. My crotch is so tight against the fabric, I'm not sure anyone can fit a penis in there. I wish them luck trying, though. And not to mention, why did I agree to walk downstairs into a presumably crowded establishment when I'm wearing a PVC get-up, platforms, and my nipples are showing? I must have lost it. I think there was something in the air on the plane. That's the only logical explanation for my behavior over the past few days.

"Calm down," Tony assuages as he walks behind me. When we arrive in the bar, he'll disappear; but remain in the shadows. Just in case, he says.

I nod. I'm not sure that's a possibility. Maybe a cigarette will help. Without even having to ask, Tony has placed a Marlboro Light into my hand. I pause, he lights me up and we continue into the bar. The smoke in here is thick, which is good. I don't want too many people seeing me in this ridiculous get up. And come to think of it, why am I so concerned about my clothing when I'm about to have sex for cash?

I approach the bar as Tony disappears. I know he's not far off, and that's somewhat comforting. Discomforting is the fact that I do not see any men smoking at the bar. There are two youngish, college age boys watching sports in the back corner on the overhead monitor. There's an attractive businesswoman- complete with black patent pumps and a dark suit jacket- sitting three stools down. A couple of stragglers are standing at tables in the back of the room. A group of loud sports fans somewhere behind me. And then I realize that he is here.

Seated to my left, I must have walked right past him as we entered the bar. I was lost in the satisfaction of my cigarette. He's smoking a thick cigar. I know nothing about cigars, so I could assume it's Cuban. But that would simply be a guess. His fedora is tipped low on his head, and I can't make out his profile. Just that his sheer size alone tells me he is a man, a stocky one at that. He doesn't turn, doesn't acknowledge my stare. I know he knows I'm watching him, but he doesn't offer any blatant acknowledgement.

I move down to my left, and take the last stool at the bar; to his right. He turns slightly and in the dark, I can only see his pink lips moving. "You here for the party?" he questions. I know his voice. I know I know his voice. But from where, I'm not sure. But I know it.

I nod, nervously and lean in closer to him. "Do I know you?"

He keeps the hat low and his face more or less concealed. But I see his lips turn up into a smile. He really does seem familiar. But he denies that we have ever met before. So I instead of arguing, I follow him toward the elevator and then to the tenth floor. This is it. Tony can't follow any further and I'm on my own from here.

"Should we settle the payment right away?" he questions, business-like before I have even placed both my feet in the door. If I was a real whore, I'd suspect the police. Or foul play, at best. But I know that Tony is smarter than to set me up with the Donut Patrol. Or at least, I hope. Come to think of it, though I love Lovato, he ain't too bright. Fuck, what have I gotten myself into?

The stranger coughs, fedora still cemented firmly in place. I can see his lips move, but I can't deduce his eye color or facial features. His head bowed, he repeats, "Payment?"

"Five seventy five an hour," I repeat the words Tony had couched me through earlier today.

He nods and counts out five one hundred dollar bills, a fifty, a twenty and then a five. He places them on the bedside table. "That should cover me for the hour," he smirks. Those lips. I want to taste those lips. "We'll settle up if it lasts longer."

"I don't really know how this works," I slip up and admit. Fuck. Tony expressly warned me against that.

The stranger laughs. His voice is deep and it reverberates throughout the small room. A posh room. He must have money. Even the single bed is draped in silk sheets. Not common at hotels, although, I suppose since the suite I am staying in is divine; I should realize this is not exactly your everyday hotel. Fuck. Where has my brain power gone to?

"Take off your dress," he states matter-of-factly. He's seated himself in a large chair in the corner of the dark room. His head is still bowed low as he demands, "And then take off your shoes."

I comply. It doesn't take long to peel off the horrible pleather nurse uniform; and I'm happy to do so. I looked ridiculous, anyway. And the shoes were a bitch. I hate hooker shoes. I sighed, relieved.

"Come over here," he directs. He motions me to stand in front of him, and I do. Staring down at his shoes. If I knew anything about men's shoes, I might be able to tell you what the fuck they are. But I'm clueless. He smirks and glances upward. The fedora stays atop his head, but I'm able to glance a strand of dark hair. And a knowing wink. I know these brown eyes. He grins. "You really didn't have a clue, did you?"

I let out the nervousness and tension and sigh loudly. "I would expect to find you smoking a cigar in a pinstriped business suit…WHY?"

He smirks. "Because you know Anthony Lovato well enough to know he had a trick up his sleeve."

He's so very right: I should have known.

* * *

Tony's voice fills the room as he appears out of the closet with a sideways grin of delight. "You know, you could have kept the secret up a little longer, Thomas!"

Paul shrugs. "How fucking long did you expect me to wear a fucking suit and hat in Hawaii? It's a hundred fucking degrees outside, I feel like a flaming jackass."

He has a point! This is not standard attire for a tropical locale. Not even remotely close. I have to laugh as the two men bicker. That is, until I remember that I'm naked. Entirely and completely nude.

Tony smirks, and then appears the video camera. "You know, V," he snorts. "I'm compiling a real incriminating piece of video on our little trip to Hawaii."

"I'll bet you are," I roll my eyes and begin plodding toward the bathroom for a robe.

Paul grabs my wrist and stops me mid-step. "Not so fast, V. Where do you think you're going?"

I gesture. "To the bathroom? Bathrobe? I'm naked?"

Paul wags a free finger in my face and smirks. "Not quite. Didn't you think we had some sort of plan in mind?"

"You just went from blaming Tony to making this a ‘we'," I observed. "That means you were in on this all along."

Paul rolls his eyes mockingly. "Well duh! I am wearing this ridiculous hat, no?" He lifts the fedora and shakes out his mop of brown hair. "Does the woman like me in my attire?"

I laugh at his stupidity, but I'm growing moist over the sight of Paul in this ridiculous ensemble. I shouldn't. I should laugh at him, laugh at Tony's insane sense of foreplay. But I can't. There's something about Paul dressed like a brooding, mysterious gangster. I think I want to fuck him. I think I want to fuck him right now.

"THAT'S IT!" Tony shouts from behind his camera. "YES, V! That's the look! Keep doing that!"

"Doing what?"

"That look!"

"What look?"

"Like you're going to eat him for breakfast, lunch and dinner," Tony exclaims with glee. He's enjoying this videotaping shit way, way too much.

For his role, Paul's stomach growls loudly. "Fuck, you had to go and mention dinner?"

I slap him for this, as Tony yells at him to "shut the fuck up!" How loving. And then, I'm pinned underneath Gangster Paul on the bed. He's still wearing the ridiculous suit and the hat. That has to be the first thing to go. The first of the gang to die, so to speak. So I remove the hat and toss it to the side. It lands on a nearby pillow as Paul smirks. "Guess what?"

"What?" I grin back.

"I'm not wearing any underwear," he beams proudly.

I smirk. "Neither am I."

"You're not wearing anything at all," Tony catcalls from somewhere off to my right. No doubt he's filming this for posterity. Hopefully, he won't decide to show this at mine and Paul's wedding. Wedding? Wait, what the fuck am I thinking? I'm getting ahead of myself a bit.

"I want head!" Paul demands, pinning my wrists above my head. "You've never given me head!"

"I've never given you a lot of things!" I winked suggestively.

He blushes. "Well, I'm a gangster with a big gun. You should listen to my demands."

I decide to listen to his demands. There's nothing threatening about them- this is Paul, after all- but the look on his face is pleading, almost pouty. It's a sexy look for him; he should work it more often. I'd probably give in every single time. Oh wait, he doesn't have to pout to get me to say yes. Or to get me on my knees. Which is exactly where I am at the moment: kneeling over Paul's prone body. He's gazing at me intently as I reach for his fly. His eyes are watching closely as my breasts sway with my movements. Damn me for having such big tits. Now I'm feeling self-conscious.

But Paul assures me, sweetly. "I love your tits, V."

"Me too," Tony calls.

"Thanks boys," I blush. Yes, I'm blushing as I slowly tug the pin-striped slacks from Paul's body. And he's correct: he's not wearing underwear. That puts him immediately on display and I like this. I like leaving him in his button-down shirt, tie, and suit jacket. With no pants. There's something sexy about this.

"You should wear this," he laughs, placing the fedora onto my head.

And so it begins: the fedora-clad blowjob. I've never actually tried to give a man head before while wearing a hat. This should be interesting. Mostly because the fedora is already falling off my head. Thanks, Paul, for not putting it on correctly. So I correct the positioning of the hat as I move my body into a better pose.

My tongue darts out and flicks quickly across the top of Paul's erection. Yes, he's already hard as a coal train. You gotta love these young guys and their always hard cocks. Especially Paul's, which is the perfect length and a beautiful girth. And he tastes like, well, he tastes like candy today. Something sugary and sweet, nice to eat.

"You like that?" Tony calls.

I moan in agreement, sending vibrations down into Paul's pleasure centers. He shudders in response and runs his hands up through his hair. "Fuck, V. This is so fucking good."

I raise up and take over my work with my hand. I grin. "You ain't seen nuthin' yet, Paulie."

"Gangsta Paulie," he smirks euphorically.

"Word," Tony adds with a laugh.

I return to my work, taking in more than half of his hard length. He fills me and I moan. I can feel his body tensing a bit; he's trying not to force himself down my throat. I appreciate that. I appreciate that greatly. And thankfully, there has been no hair pulling.

"You should use her fucking ears as handlebars," Tony directs. "Jam it down her throat, dude!"

"I think not," I raise up and argue, massaging Paul's balls softly as I do so. "You jam it, I bite it!"

"Ouch," Paul winces. "I'll behave!"

"Good," I grin and return him to the warmth of my moist mouth. He's moaning deeply; it's more a grunt. Whatever the fuck I should term this noise, it's fucking hot. I appreciate the vocal appreciate. I really do. Especially from anyone with a voice as primal as Paul's.

"Enter, Studio Extra!" Tony calls.

"What the fuck?" I laugh, ignoring his idiocy. Why pay attention to Tony when I have Paul's penis down my throat? It's not worth it. Instead, I focus on making as much noise as possible; on giving him the sloppiest blowjob he's ever received. I'd got shit dribbling down my chin, and in this instance, that's a good thing. Especially judging by the look on his face. Yes, Paul is pleased.

"Where do you want me?" a familiar voice questions. I know I know that voice. I know I know that voice well. What the fuck is Tony doing?

"Enter, Studio Extra!" Tony repeats loudly.

* * *

"I'm fucking here!" the familiar voice barks, annoyed, as he steps into view. He's wearing matching attire to Gangster Paul: pin-striped dress slacks, a suit jacket, shirt and tie. The ever-important finishing touch of a fedora. Obviously, this was planned out really well. Their outfits match perfectly, and wait- WHAT THE FUCK? How did he get to Hawaii?

"Well, quit wasting precious camera time, fuck face. Get on the bed and fuck her!" Tony demanded. It's so like him to assume I would say yes to sex with our friend, and so like him to think camera time is being wasted if pussy isn't involved.

"V, quit giving me that look," Tony called as he moved to a different position in the room.

"What look?"

Tony shook his head and rolled his eyes. "That look that tells me you're pissed at me."

"I'm not pissed at you."

"You look pretty fucking ticked," our ‘Studio Extra' laughed as he kicked off his shoes. Next he made a production out of skipping toward the bed and diving beside me. And nearly crushing Paul. Somehow, I hope he didn't intend to try and steal Paul's cock from me. But with this kid, you never know.

Paul groaned. "Would you people shut the fuck up and let her blow me?"

"Hey!" our guest frowned. "Dude, the plan was that both of us got to fuck her."

Paul frowned and banged his head on the pillows.

"So stop being so fucking selfish, Paulie Boy," Tony called from somewhere in the shadows.

Paul scowled. "That's Gangster Fucking Paul to you."

"Dude!" Tony snorted. "What the fuck is wrong with you tonight?"

I ignored them both and turned to our fourth companion. "So explain to me exactly how you got to Hawaii in the first place?"

He bit his bottom lip, sucked on his labret, and shrugged. "I do have money, you know. And money buys plane tickets. So I flew here."

"When?"

"I arrived this morning," he smiles. "Are you sick of me already?"

I shake my head and grin. "If you were Joel, maybe. But I don't ever get sick of you, Ben."

"Ben?" Tony cackles. "Who the fuck calls him-"

"I do," I interrupt. "So shut the fuck up."

"I'm taking a real beating here, Ben," Tony snorts. "Help a brother out!"

Benji clears his throat and sighs. "Sorry dude, I have to side with the lady. You know, if I intend to get laid, I can't piss her off."

"You're pissing me off," Paul growls and stands up. He proceeds to storm into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.