The Cocktail Party

David Cross smiled to himself as he stepped out of his car, crossing the narrow, wooded street towards the house in front of him. House. It could hardly be called that. While not quite a mansion, the dwelling in front of him was beyond anything he had ever been formally invited to. Crashing the dean's annual Christmas party with this frat brother's years ago didn't count, he decided.

A man in a well dressed suit looked him over silently as he approached, and smiled politely as he spoke.

"Your name, please."

"David Cross. I'm here on the invite of Roger Townes."

"You are on the list, Mr. Cross. Please proceed up the hill. You will be greeted at the door. Have a pleasant evening."

"Thank you," David said, with as much sophistication as he could muster. He began his trek up the winding hill, to the base of the estate. Despite his background as a swimmer in high school and college, he was still nearly out of breath once he reached the top. Halfheartedly, he noticed more than two dozen cars parked at the top of the hill, around a circular driveway leading up to the entrance.

He approached the door and, just as he was about to consider how he should be announcing his presence, it swung open for him. There stood another man, dressed just as the first, but younger. His broad shoulders stood out even more thanks to the suit jacket, and his dark black hair, though neatly trimmed and combed, had the slightest wave.

"Good evening," said the man in the suit, standing tall and firm, glancing down at David with a professional nod.

"Hi," responded David, for lack of a better response.

"You must be David Cross. My associate radioed ahead. Please," said the dark haired man, gesturing toward the foyer, "come inside."

"I see. Thank you," David answered, the exertion from earlier combined with nervousness making him sweat slightly under his sport jacket.

David had a tendency to be over dressed. His first day at Hector & Townes, the firm co-partnered by the owner of this sprawling estate, he had worn a suit and tie when the attire was business casual. His past girlfriends, having told him to "dress nice tonight" were nearly always stupefied by his take on the term, showing up in dress slacks when they had expected jeans and a button down. Tonight, however, David felt immediately underdressed. He had expected the hired help to be wearing suites, maybe even a tux or two, but he had not been prepared for the dress of the guests. Nearly every man within sight wore a tie, many as part of a formal suit. A few (perhaps those whose cars were parked at the top of the hill) wore tuxedos. Suddenly, horribly, his sport coat and slacks felt horribly out of place.

And his view of the women didn't help. His eyes widened as a woman in a red dress walked past him. He couldn't help but take in every one of her features. Her creamy skin gave away the slightest radiance of a tan, while her tall, firm, curvy figure moved in rhythm with her steps. Her dress only made her more desirable, as two straps of fabric twisted around one another and crossed at her back, leaving just enough cleavage in front to allow his imagination to run wild. She glanced at him as she passed, looking away quickly towards her drink, and the next room.

He entered carefully, barely noticing the dark haired man behind him close the door. It wasn't just the people that made David feel out of place, it was the atmosphere. He looked up to find a chandelier reflecting the light in every direction, just as he heard the distant sound of a grand piano echoing throughout the halls.

If the door had not just behind him, David might have turn and ran. Instead, he took a breath, and walked forward into the depths of the party. Few noticed him, nor did he expect them to, and so he was equally surprised when he heard a voice behind him call his name.

"David Cross!" His boss's thick, deep voice sounded behind him. Though he had become used to the voice at the office, David nearly jumped at the sound, much in the same way he did the first time he heard Alex shout his name on the day he started at Hector & Townes.

"Alex," He said, turning as his hand extended. Inwardly, he applauded himself. In just a year and a half, he had gone from fumbling over his words and his motions when meeting a client or even in a new setting. Tonight, he was already handling himself with confidence, shaking his boss's hand as easily as he might an old friend from college.

"Glad you could make it," the large man beamed, a scotch in his hand and clearly already intoxicated. Alex looked over at the woman standing next to him, and nodded towards David. This time, it was impossible to retain his composure. The woman in red stood before him once again, her breasts (don't look down, David, Jesus don't look down in front of your boss) beckoning to him thanks to her lower stature, her brown eyes perfectly matching her hair. She smiled, and extended her hand.

"Jennifer Miller." Her grip was firm, and warm.

"Hi," he responded, "I'm David."

"He's not this quiet at the office, Miss Miller," Alex said, a smile touching his lips as he continued, "One of our newest hires, but a damn bright one. Sure, he's got the MBA, but it's really just a sticker that lets you play with the big boys, doesn't mean you get to stay. Am I right?"

"Absolutely," David replied. In the past year and a half, two of his associates had been let go. It wasn't that they couldn't work hard enough, or that they didn't have the education. They simply couldn't learn fast enough. There was a saying that David used with one or two of his closest workers, the one competency that every new consultant had to have. "Be smart. Fast."

Alex nodded soberly, perhaps reading David's thoughts better than David would have imagined, given his state. "But enough of that," his boss spoke. "Jennifer is something of a rising star herself, I would say. You are familiar with our CGI account, I'm sure. She is the Associate Director of Marketing over there."

David nodded politely at her. "I've done some work on that account. I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting, however. Very nice to speak to you."

"And you," Jennifer replied. "Oh, and Alex tells me that you did your undergrad over at Central. I was there as well, graduated two years ago."

"Really? Yet another near miss, it seems."

"Yes. Your name sounds vaguely familiar, however. Didn't you do some research with the psychology department?"

Caught off guard, David felt his face flush.

"A little," he replied. Memories flooded back.

"What kind of research?" His boss asked casually.

"Oh, the usual undergrad stuff. We did what we could with what we had." At that, David caught Jennifer in an ever so casual smirk. But she said nothing more on the subject.

"Well, David, it was very nice to meet you," she changed the subject. "Perhaps I will see you later. The martinis are excellent, by the way."

"I'll have to try one or four later," David said, smiling.

And with that, his boss and the mysterious woman in the red dress who knew far too much about him were gone.

Trying to put it out of his mind, David took Jennifer's advice and got himself a martini at the bar. Not a large number of people can claim to have a full bar (complete with bartender) in their house, but Roger Townes could. And David Cross was more than happy to remove Mr. Townes of just a small amount of his most interesting vodka, a brand bottled in Iceland, and distilled over volcanic rocks. It tasted, suspiciously, like every other expensive vodka he had ever sampled.

"Hello again."

The voice behind him startled David. He was surprised, then shaken, to see the woman in the red dress, Jennifer, standing next to him once more. His boss was nowhere to be seen.

"Hi," he said, after some pause. He did not speak further, and an short, awkward silence ensued. Finally, Jennifer spoke once more.

"Alex is a decent man. He paints himself as a pretentious ass to fit in, but beneath it there is a certain refreshing humility."

"Funny," David said, less off-guard now. "I had him painted the same way in my own mind. So where is he now?"

She shrugged. "Who knows? He promised to be gone only a second. If your company was in any danger of losing mine as a client, he would not be the man I would pick to keep the main client-side contact entertained."

David chuckled. "Indeed. His specialty lies elsewhere." A feeling nagged at him, beneath the conversation, which he could not shake. David Cross might be an awkward man in a high-class home sipping martinis, but his instincts rarely failed him in such matters as human thoughts.

"You did not come over here for small talk," he said carefully.

The faintest of smiles crossed her lips. "No," she said, "I did not."

"Then why are you speaking to me?"

She smiled again, more broadly this time, and leaned close to him, as though telling him a precious company secret. In this atmosphere, everyone politely and aristocratically on their way to drunk, no one noticed, save the bartender, and he did not care.

"I want," she said, and stopped just a little before continuing, "to watch you suck a cock."

The shock of her statement, along with the confidence oozing from every syllable of her voice nearly caused David to spill his drink. It waivered in his hand, a few splashes falling from the glass and onto his hand. He did not notice.

"What?" he asked?Smooth, he told himself in the same instant.Very smooth.

"You heard me," she replied, as she moved back from him just a little, letting her voice carry just a little farther. "And I know that you would enjoy it, just like you enjoyed it before."

At those words, David's body went rigid. Memories raced through his mind as he recalled what he knew she meant.

They had been at the bar, celebrating the end of the semester. There had been four of them there, him and three other research assistants. Ashley was a small, petite blond, quiet for the most part unless she got to talking about her favorite subjects, such as painting, drawing, or writing. Physically, Laura was a lesson in contrast. With her long brunette hair, large breasts, and curvy yet well-toned body, she laughed easily and could talk about anything, from politics to movie quotes. And then there was Daniel, who had a runner's powerful legs and tight, compact upper body, slightly smaller than David's more muscular swimmer's torso.

Their research had comprised of a "safer" sex intervention among at their small Midwestern college. As seniors, they were asked to serve as moderators for discussions on the topic among groups of wide-eyed freshmen. It had been rather amusing to David, as well as the rest of them, to see the underclassmen blush about the most mundane of sexual topics, items they had frequently discussed among themselves as practice for leading each discussion. Their professor, a clinical psychologist, her accent thick with French stresses, had encouraged them to speak together about these topics as practice. Daniel had once been asked to list all of the names for a penis he could possibly think of, coming up with what he considered to be an impressive list of forty-two.

Now, however, the research was complete. The freshman had been tested on their attitudes before and after the intervention, the numbers had been crunched, and behold, their attitudes had changed. They were more likely to discuss safer sex with their partners, and now each of the seniors knew forty-two different ways to talk about cock. Graduation was near, and it was likely this would be the last time they might all get together.

And it all started with a question. A rather direct one, at that.

"Have you ever thought about sucking one another off?" said Laura, her smile wide but her tone quite serious.

"Sure," said David, "All the time. It's all I think about. I...I just can't stop. Really, I think I need professional help," he broke out into laughter. Several empty tumblers and beer bottles were scattered across the table.

Daniel punched him in the shoulder, though he was laughing as well. "Don't even joke about that," he said into his drink.

"I'm serious," Laura persisted, not letting it go. "We have been talking for the past forty-five minutes about female bisexuality. Ashley and I freely admitted that we have thought about kissing one another and saw your eyes light up like the Fourth of July, and yet, when I ask you a simple question about your own bisexuality, you both have no idea how to answer. David, you turn to sarcasm hoping to change the subject, and Daniel, all you know how to react is to punch someone."

"Thanks, Dr. Phil," spoke David, and then wished he hadn't said it, almost hearing her point replayed right afterward. She looked back at him, a knowing smile playing against her lips, but said nothing. Their group fell into an awkward silence, as each took a swig of their respective drinks. David had been carefully nursing a beer for most of the night, but his most recent choice, a Jack and coke, felt a little more intense.

Not minutes later, David could feel his head spinning as the conversation turned to other topics, Laura letting the bisexuality talk fall to the side. He moved to get up toward the bathroom, and stumbled as he did, nearly taking the table with him.

"Ouch," Ashley laughed. "I think he might not be driving tonight."

Her words sounded distant as David got to his feet unsteadily. The memory faded, and his eyes refocused on Jennifer's lips, the clink of glasses and murmur of small talk flooding back into his senses. His mind sharpened. This was part of what they paid him for, his quick thinking. He would not let this woman who seemed to know far too much about his past threaten him.

"Perhaps," he said mildly, noting for the first time the tension in the woman's face, "perhaps not. But this is a bit sudden, don't you agree? You haven't even bought me dinner yet."

Jennifer's mouth hesitated, and then broke into a soft smirk. She leaned in toward David once more, hand reaching out to grab another drink that had appeared on the bar table seemingly from nowhere. As she did, she spoke softly, but directly. Her voice was casual, but her words rang in his ears.

"You won't talk yourself out of this, Mr. Cross. I could spread some pretty interesting rumors if I chose to."

"Why would you do that?" he responded his voice just as casual, but his face flushing, the hairs on his neck standing straight up.

"I told you why. I want to see you-" she stopped short as a man in a blue blazer approached the bar next to them and sat down without a glance. Looking back at him briefly, she continued. "You know what I want."

"Look," said David, "Let's talk about this somewhere else." He almost added "Please," but stopped himself short.

"Fine. To your right over there is a hallway with a single door at the end. It will be locked. In ten minutes, walk up to the door and knock casually."

He nodded back at her, and walked away, carefully checking his watch as he did so. David's feet tingled with nervousness, anticipation, apprehension, and just a little bit of excitement. After all, the memory of that night was hard to forget.

Daniel had driven all of them back to Laura's apartment. Being the only one half sober, he had felt it necessary to not let anyone else drive, yet not so chivalrous as to drive each person home. After all, their cars were still in the parking lot, and they would have to go get them in the morning anyway.

Meanwhile, David's vision had improved a little, and his head wasn't swimming as badly as it had been earlier. He was nowhere near sober, but at least he could stand up straight. He was sitting in the common area of a well decorated but messy apartment. Books were scattered all over the coffee table, and an old pizza box took up part of the kitchen table, next to several days worth of mail.

"How many people live here?" he asked Laura, who was sitting beside him sipping some water, also recovering from her earlier drinking.

"Just me and my roommate," she replied. "Most of this is my mess," she added. "My roommate is the organized one. Business major. I like a little clutter, makes it feel more like home." Turning to look at him, she smiled. Despite her glass of water, she still seemed quite tipsy, even more so than he. Her short skirt was pulled up slightly as she sat, and he couldn't help but catch himself looking longingly at her smooth, olive colored thighs.

She caught him looking, their eyes meeting for a second before he looked away. "So," she began, pausing for effect, "have you thought about what I asked before?"

He briefly debated playing numb, and though better of it. It wouldn't make her drop it. His mouth opened to speak, and then closed again. His head felt light from the alcohol.

"A little," he finally answered.

Her eyes lit up. She leaned forward toward him, her low-cut shirt inching down, allowing him to see her supple breasts pushing together as she did so. "Really?" she practically purred.

"Maybe," David answered, lust pushing away confusion. After all, he was telling the truth, but it was a woman in front of him, not a man. And she was unconsciously licking her puffy red lips as she spoke to him, her actions becoming bolder with each second.

Laura was practically touching him now, her body inches from his as she spoke in slightly slurred syllables. "I'll take that as a yes."

David's inhibitions vanished. He had been shy in high school, hadn't had a girlfriend until his senior year, but the past four years of college had changed him. While questions such as Laura's this night might still catch him off guard, he felt more confident with each passing day. He had taken to swimming every morning, and had felt his body change before his eyes from a skinny boy with padding in all the wrong places to a sleek, toned man. And he was a man who wasn't about to allow his fantasies to pass him by.

David pressed up against Laura with his entire body, his hands feeling the soft skin of her thighs as his hands reached down to touch her, gliding upwards. Her skirt lifted higher until it was level with her panties, but neither of them paid any attention to it. His lips closed against hers, and their tongues intertwined with lust. He could feel his hardness instantly growing, encouraged by the soft moans escaping her lips.God, he thought,she sounds like a porn star.

The movement of her body was captivating, her back arching up and down, causing her hips to sway against him over and over again. Even her lips tasted like lust. Without hesitation, she grabbed his hand and pulled it up her legs. He smiled to himself in surprise, noting that her panties were completely soaked through, and that she was dripping down her thighs.

Her body shook at his touch, and his own responded. He could feel his need for her rising, a deep energy flowing through him like nothing he had ever felt before. His cock was bulging underneath his pants so badly that it hurt. Without contemplation, he ripped Laura's panties from her hips so hard that she squealed in surprise. The underwear tore easily, and he threw them away without another thought.

She smelled like sex, and it drove him wild.

Laura's soft, smooth legs were spread wide open in front of him, and he knew what he needed. David fell to his knees before her on the couch, pressing his mouth against her wetness as he began to lick her cunt without ceremony. He used long, deep strokes of his tongue all the way up and down the length of her wetness. She shook each time he passed her clit.

"Oh baby," he heard her moan, as she began talking dirty to him "lick that fucking cunt. I need it. I need you to bury your face in me right now. I need-"