Lola Takes Flight

Or maybe--just maybe--Chase was so confident in his game that no man was a threat to him. Maybe Chase was such an alpha that he left the foreplay to other men.

The thought sent a shiver of electricity through my body. What if Chase was just using these other guys without them even knowing it? He knew that I liked to tease, so what if he was delegating the job of turning me on to lesser men, letting them lavish me with attention so that he could reap the spoils without even trying?

It was almost like the other men at the club were his opening act, out there sweating to warm up the audience while he was backstage, drinking whiskey with his feet up. And then, when the audience was primed and ready to explode, he dismissed the opening acts and took the stage himself for the main event.

I smiled in disbelief at the idea. The audacity of it was truly breathtaking. I didn't know if Chase really thought that way, but I wanted to believe that he did.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed, snapping me out of my reverie and back to the noise of planes taking off. It was a text from Marcy:

"Be there in 5 mins! It's a black Range Rover"

"yay!" I texted back, slipping my phone into my bag.

You better get here soon, Chase, I thought to myself. I could already feel the warmth between my legs, where my tiny pink thong nestled between the folds of my bare, freshly-waxed pussy.

That old pilot had been one hell of an opening act.

...

I haven't said too much about Marcy yet, but that's because I don't really know how to write about her. She's my best friend since childhood, and honestly, she doesn't belong in stories like these, on a website like this. I'm not going to describe her looks but she doesn't belong in your fantasies. She's white and a little WASP-y and that's all I'll say about her.

We met in middle school, at tennis camp. We were both very strong players, and although we were rivals on the court, we became great friends outside of it. Still, I've always felt both a sense of companionship and a sense of competition with Marcy. But lately, the competition felt like it was getting one-sided.

I thought I was doing okay in life, but Marcy made it hard to feel that way. I'd gone to USC, but she'd gone to Berkeley, the school we both wanted to go to after high school. I was living in LA, giving tennis lessons and working at a nightclub, but Marcy had gotten a real job at Airbnb. She'd had a long-term boyfriend, now a fiance, and soon a husband, while I was still working on the boyfriend part.

So even though I loved her as my best friend (and still do), she made me kind of insecure at that, and even a little jealous. We used to be so alike, yet now I felt like I was looking up at her, watching her takeoff while I was stuck on the ground.

Anyway, Marcy was getting married in Napa, California, a swanky part of wine country about an hour north of San Francisco. She'd picked me up at the airport and we were headed up a couple of nights early to enjoy, unwind, and get ready for the wedding. The wedding was in Napa because Marcy's dad had a big house up there on a beautiful piece of property that Marcy loved. They were going to get married outside on the lawn in two days.

There would be plenty of guests at the wedding, but tonight and tomorrow, we would have the place more or less to ourselves. Marcy's brother Tim was already up there, and her dad was getting in tomorrow. Marcy's soon-to-be husband, Phil, was staying with his friends, so once Chase arrived, that would be everyone.

When we got there, Tim trotted out of the house to help us with our bags.

"Hey Lola," he said, smiling at me as he took my bag. "You look great, and it's great to see you."

"You, too, Tim," I said, giving him a hug. "How long has been?"

"Four years," he whistled, lifting the bag over his shoulder. "Not since senior year of high school."

"Four years," I shook my head. "Well, you look the same."

"Well, you don't," he said, looking up outfit up and down quickly. "But change is good."

"Yeah," I smiled at him, enjoying his attention. "I think so, too."

Now would be a good time to mention that I had a crush on Tim in high school. He was two years older than me or Marcy, a pretty good-looking guy but kind of nerdy, more Mathlete than athlete. Even so, he was smart and funny, and he wasn't socially awkward at all. Plus, he was Marcy's older brother, which made him hot in a sort of forbidden way.

We had actually hooked up a couple of times before I moved away, back when I was still a virgin, but it had all been very tame. Marcy used to throw parties at her dad's house up in Napa, the same house we were at now. After a party, Tim and I would find a quiet corner to make-out in, and then I would let him feel me up a bit. But with Marcy and her dad both around, I was always too scared of getting caught to let it go any farther than that.

Seeing Tim again, I felt a pang of excitement. My high school crush was here, and in a few hours, Chase would be, too. Tim was the first guy I had real feelings for, and probably the only guy I'd felt that way about until I met Chase. Maybe that's a little sad, given all of the guys that I had sex with in between, but that didn't matter anymore. What mattered was that even though Marcy was the one getting married, I would be getting my fair share of attention once Chase arrived.

...

Marcy, Tim, and I were eating dinner a few hours later when my phone buzzed. I looked down expectantly.

"Oh, it's Chase," I giggled, seeing his name on my lock screen.

But the smile melted off my face immediately. At a glance, the text looked long, and that immediately seemed like a bad sign. Chase never sent me long text messages. And this one didn't start with "Landed at SFO."

"Be right back," I said, getting up from the table and hurrying upstairs to my room.

I shut the door and pulled out my phone. As soon as I saw it, I felt tears in my eyes:

"We havent signed the contract yet and I need to be here until we do. Sorry I wont be there but Im sure youll still have a good time without me"

What the fuck was this? He was supposed to be landing right now, and he'd never even gotten on the plane. How could he do this to me?

Immediately, I unlocked my phone and called him. No answer.

"Chase you cant just do this," I texted him.

No response. I called again.

"Please answer the phone," I texted.

I called again. This time, he picked up.

"Hello?" he said. It was the first time I'd heard his voice in almost two weeks.

"Chase, what are you doing?" I said. I was trying not to let him hear the tears in my eyes.

"I'm working, Lola," he replied, exasperated. "Do you know what time it is here? I had to step out of a meeting."

"Do you know what time it is here?!" I shot back. "My best friend is getting married tomorrow. I'm her maid of honor. And I'm here by myself."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I wanted to be there. But I can't leave until this deal is done."

"Do you know what this means to me?" I said, fighting back a sob. "Do you know how important this was?"

"Do you have any idea how much money is at stake here?" Chase said, frustrated. "Lola, c'mon. Don't do this."

"I told Marcy," I sobbed. "I told her you were my boyfriend!"

"Oh, Jesus," Chase snapped. "Well, you shouldn't have done that, should you?"

Suddenly, I went absolutely quiet. A few seconds passed with neither of us making a sound.

"Chase, I need to ask you something," I said, my voice getting small.

"Lola, I need to get back to this meeting," he said.

"Are you fucking other girls?" I whispered.

He sighed. My stomach dropped.

"Let's talk about this when I get back to LA," he said quietly.

"Don't hang up," I whispered.

"I gotta go," he said. "We'll talk when I'm back in LA."

Then, he hung up the phone. Without saying goodbye.

...

I cried in my room for the next hour before I finally stopped sobbing. But as sad as I was, I was also angry. How could Chase leave me here all by myself? What kind of selfish asshole does that? And he didn't even tell that he'd missed his plane. He just let me believe he was on it all fucking day until he realized that it had landed.

I cleaned myself up, fixed my face, and walked back out to tell Marcy, determined not to let Chase ruin the night before my best friend's wedding.

"So, Chase is stuck in Asia on business, asshole" I said, rolling my eyes. "I'm sorry to leave you with an empty chair, Mars."

"An empty chair?" Marcy said, her mouth dropping open. "Lola, forget that. Are you okay?"

"It's not his fault," I said, holding up my hands and mimicking Chase's deep voice. "The contract isn't signed yet, he can't leave until it is, so much money, blah blah blah"

Marcy and Tim laughed.

"But he's still an asshole," I said.

"Yeah, he is," Marcy cheered, raising her wineglass. "A toast to Chase, the asshole of the night!"

"To Chase," I said, picking up my own glass.

"The asshole of the night," Tim said, as we clinked, then downed our drinks.

"Let's get fucking high," Marcy said, looking wild-eyed at us. "Phil doesn't smoke, so I gotta take advantage."

"Yesss," I said, hugging her. "I love you so much."

"To the hot tub!" Tim cried.

...

Two hours later, the three of us were sitting in the hot tub, which was situated on a balcony connected to the master bedroom. It looked out onto the broad lawn where the wedding tent was set up for tomorrow.

"Shoot, Phil's calling," Marcy said, putting down a half-smoked blunt and picking up her phone. "I gotta take this."

"Stay," I whined. "You're too high to talk to Phil..."

"Maybe," Marcy said, standing up. "But I'm a good actress, and Phil is gullible as hell."

"Stayyyyyyyy," I whined louder. "You've got the rest of your life to talk to chat with him about whatever married people talk about..."

"I'll be right back," Marcy laughed, climbing out of the hot tub. "Keep the tub warm for me."

She walked inside, leaving me and Tim alone in the tub.

"So," Tim said after several seconds of silence. "No more Lola Andrews, Marcy tells me. Now it's Lola Kim."

"That's right," I said. "I haven't changed it legally yet or anything, but I like it. Feels more like me."

"I like it, too," Tim nodded. "Still, I'm a bit sad to see Lola Andrews go."

"Why's that?" I asked.

"Well, I had some pretty good times with Lola Andrews," Tim smiled mischievously. "Some pretty good memories."

"Is that right?" I mused, an innocent smile playing across my face. "Such as...?"

"Such as... that pool party we had up here," Tim grinned. "The summer after I graduated, before your senior year. Before you left."

"Maybe you'd like to... refresh my memory," I said softly, running my fingers through my hair.

"You wore a... red bathing suit," Tim said. "A two-piece."

"It's called a bikini, Tim," I laughed, gesturing at the black bikini top I was wearing. "You're so old-fashioned..."

"We had a chicken fight," he continued. "You were on my shoulders, against Marcy and Eric."

"That's right," I nodded. "Who won?"

"They did," he smiled. "But it wasn't a fair fight."

"Why?" I laughed. "Because Eric was a football player and you were on the chess team?"

"No," he smirked, shaking his head. "Because you were too damn top heavy and it was easy to knock you over."

"Wow," I said, cocking my head. I sat up straight, my tits rising completely above the water. "Too top heavy, huh? I don't recall you complaining much back then."

"Oh, I wasn't complaining," he grinned. "I'm still not."

"I seem to recall you rather liked that," I said, folding my hands behind my head and arching my back, letting my tits push out proudly towards him.

"Yes," he said, licking his lips. "Yes, I did."

"You know, Tim," I said, my fingers gently playing with the strings of my bikini tied around my neck. "I may have been top heavy, but I definitely wasn't easy."

"Indeed not," he said.

"So was that your best memory of Lola Andrews?" I asked, gently pushing off the edge of the hot tub and gliding towards him. "Playing chicken in the pool?"

"No," he said, his voice growing soft.

"Then what?" I said, pausing in the middle of the tub, the upper half of my body exposed above the waterline.

"Later," he whispered. "That night."

"Remind me, Tim," I whispered, gliding towards him again. "What did we do that night?"

"We made out, and... you let me feel you up," he breathed, his voice growing husky.

"What else?" I whispered, my fingers moving over my bikini, grazing against my hardening nipples.

"You--you were rubbing me, through my boxers," he whispered, his eyes burning. "But then Marcy woke up, and we..."

"We had to stop, didn't we?" I purred. "We didn't want to get caught..."

He nodded mutely.

I glided over to Tim's seat and gently straddled him, leaning forward as I were about to give him a lap dance in the hot tub.

"Lola Andrews is gone, Tim," I whispered. "But we could make some new memories, if you want..."

He nodded again, his eyes practically on fire.

"Are you sure?" I purred, reaching back for the strings of my bikini top. "What if Marcy comes back?"

"I don't care," Tim whispered, putting his hands on my hips.

"But you can only look tonight," I whispered, gently removing his hands from my hips. "Okay?"

"Okay," he nodded, putting his hands behind his head for effect. "Okay."

"Good boy," I whispered, slowly untying the strings of my bikini top. "I never let you see them back then, did I?"

He shook his head as I let the strings fall, holding up the cups of my bikini with just my hands.

"I was so self-conscious about having big boobs back then," I whispered. "But not anymore."

I pulled my hands back, letting the cups drop, giving Tim his first full, unobstructed view of my naked, perfect tits.

"Oh fuck," Tim whispered, his mouth gaping open.

"You like them, don't you?" I cooed, running my hands through my hair, flaunting my tits just inches from his face. "You wanna suck them, don't you?"

"Yes," he mouthed, practically unable to speak. I could feel him getting hard in the water beneath me. "Fuck yes..."

"Not tonight," I whispered. "But maybe... maybe tom--"

"Uhh, what the fuck is this?" I heard Marcy's voice behind us.

"Oh shit," I cried, pulling the cups of my bikini over my tits and pushing myself off of Tim's lap. "Marcy, we just--"

"I said keep the tub warm for me," she replied crossly, her arms folded in front of her. "I didn't say fuck in it."

"Marcy, we weren't," Tim said quickly.

"We were just goofing around a little," I added, quickly tying my bikini top.

"Goofing around?" she frowned at me. "Lola, you have a boyfriend."

"We didn't do anything," Tim protested.

"You," Marcy said, turning angrily to her brother. "You should know better."

"I'm sorry, Mars," I said apologetically. "We were just high. It wasn't anything, honestly."

"It's time for bed," Marcy said flatly, turning off the hot tub. "Let's go."

...

The next morning, I lay in bed for as long as I could, trying to delay the inevitable conversation with Marcy about what she'd walked in on the night before. But when I finally got up and came downstairs, I could tell it was on her mind.

"Hey," I said sheepishly, sitting down next to her.

"Hey," she said back. "How are you feeling?"

"Ummm," I said, my face turning red. I put my hand over my eyes. "A little embarrassed."

"What was that?" Marcy said, looking at me closely. "What's going on with you two?"

"Nothing, really," I whispered, unable to look her in the eye. "We were just high, and... I dunno, things just..."

I trailed off, not sure what to say. I shrugged my shoulders.

"Lola, you know I love you, right?" Marcy said. "You're my best friend."

"Of course," I nodded. "You're my best friend, too."

"But it's a little weird for me," she continued. "Like, I was gone for maybe 10 minutes, and when I come back, you're giving my brother a lap dance."

"I wasn't," I protested softly. "It didn't go that far..."

"You were on top of him," she frowned. "You had your top off."

"Oh god," I groaned, mortified. "Do we have to talk about it?"

"Kind of, yeah," she said. "What would have happened if I didn't walk in on you guys?"

"Nothingggg," I whined. "I was just... teasing a little. But I wouldn't have done anything."

"You have a boyfriend, remember?" Marcy scowled. "What would Chase think if he saw you with Tim last night?"

"He's not even here," I grumbled, a tinge of resentment burning in my throat. Why did she have to bring Chase up? Why was she trying to shame me? "I was just having a little fun, but I wasn't going to do anything."

"Lola, that's my brother," Marcy said firmly. "He's not your plaything, okay?"

"Plaything?" I repeated indignantly.

"I just mean..." Marcy rubbed her eyes, trying to keep her composure. "I just mean that Tim can be fragile, okay? He's not, like, some big stud who goes from one girl to the next."

"But you think I'm some big slut, who fucks around even though I have a boyfriend?" I snapped.

"I didn't say that," Marcy frowned. "Stop getting so defensive."

"Okay, whatever," I said, rolling my eyes. "I won't go near your brother, okay? I promise."

"I'm not trying to pick a fight," she said, putting her hand on my wrist. "I just... if things are a little messy right now between you and Chase, I just don't want Tim getting caught up in it."

"Fine," I nodded, just wanting the conversation to end. "I get it."

"Thank you," she said, squeezing my arm. "Now, can we get back to being friends so that I can focus on getting married tomorrow?"

"Yes please," I said, smiling at her.

...

After Marcy and I made up, the rest of the day went pretty smoothly, with the two of us watching as the wedding planner set things up for the ceremony to come the following day.

Still, I felt a little bitter about how Marcy had spoken to me that morning. I was her best friend, but even so, it seemed like she didn't trust me around her brother. To me, that was kind of a double-whammy: first, it meant that she thought I was enough of a slut to cheat on Chase, which didn't sit well with me. But even more humiliating was the fact that she clearly seemed to think I wasn't good enough to be with Tim.

I stewed silently with these feelings for most of the afternoon, keeping a smile on my face as I helped Marcy get ready. Then, when most of the work was done, we decided to lay out by the pool for a bit. Eventually, Tim joined us, and the three of us cracked open a bottle of white wine. However, I made a point of keeping my distance from him, making sure that Marcy was between us at all times.

We were hanging out by the pool when Marcy's dad arrived.

I hadn't seen Mr. Richards in several years, but he looked more or less the same as I remembered him: he was in his mid-50s and a very big man, probably close to 6'4, with a barrel chest and thick, hairy arms. He wasn't exactly in great shape, as he appeared to be carrying an extra 30 pounds or so around his midsection, but there was no doubt that he was powerfully built. He had grayish, salt-and-pepper hair that was just beginning to thin, as well bright blue eyes that hadn't been dimmed by age.

Marcy's dad had always been a weird presence in her life growing up. He'd gotten divorced from her mom when Marcy was in middle school, supposedly because he'd been caught having an affair with his secretary or something. But even though her parents didn't get along, Mr. Richards had remained a part of Marcy's life. Unlike my dad, Mr. Richards was at birthdays and graduations. Even though he had supposedly cheated on her mom, Mr. Richards found a way to have a relationship Marcy, something my dad had never managed to do with me.

Some of that might have had to do with money, because Mr. Richards was obscenely wealthy, and I knew he spoiled Marcy like crazy after the divorce. I didn't really know what he did for work, but it was something in the finance industry that had made him a fortune, venture capital or private equity or hedge funds or something. Marcy's mom had probably done fine in the divorce, but that was more than 10 years ago, and I guessed that he had made a lot more money since then. Marcy had told me on the drive up that he was paying for the entire wedding, which is why it was happening at his multimillion-dollar estate here in Napa Valley.