The Door PrizebyStefan_J©
A silver CL-600 Coupe Mercedes-Benz sliced through the inky darkness with the speed and silence of a stealth bomber. Under the hood sat a 5.5 liter V-12 twin-turbo engine that threw out a whopping 493 horse power, allowing the vehicle to accelerate from 0-60 in 4.6 seconds. Its retail value is estimated at being in the vicinity of $128,000, making it a car not to be trifled with.
Its pilot, Danny Richardson, drove with such a reckless disregard for the law that it left his co-pilot, Michael Kirby, gripping his armrest so hard that the whites of his knuckles could almost be made out in the limited available light.
The engine raced as the rev limit maxed out for fifth gear, but was soon purring like a kitten when Danny slipped her into sixth. Their car was emulating the high velocity of a bullet shooting through the barrel of a well-oiled gun, weaving in and out of traffic as if Danny were on a race track.
If Michael didn’t know any better he would assume that the world famous McLaren-Mercedes Formula One driver, Kimi Raikkonen, had been tutoring Danny on the finer points of handling his production model Mercedes under heated racing conditions.
“Man, your parents would be pissed if they knew you were driving their car like this,” Michael warned, tightening his grip as he watched the speedometer’s needle race past 150mph.
“Fuck my parents, who gives a shit what they think? Just don’t be a dickwad at the party tonight Mikey, that’s all I’m asking,” Danny said. His eyes were turned away from the road and set squarely on Michael’s. “Just lighten the fuck up dude. There’s going to be so much pussy at The Stoner’s party tonight that you’ll think you’re at a fuckin’ cat convention.”
“Okay, okay, just watch the damn road, Danny.”
Michael sighed. This was what Danny was like all the time and how he talked about the opposite sex. They were never referred to as girls or women, but always as ‘pussy’ or ‘cunts’ or ‘bitches’.
“I’m doing you a solid here, don’t forget that. You don’t get into this party unless you’re someone pretty fuckin’ special – I don’t like to blow my own trombone but it’s a fact.”
“Trumpet,” Michael corrected.
“The phrase actually goes, ‘not to blow one’s own trumpet.’”
“Look, fuck that phase, you’re the English scholar, I’m just here to play football and fuck bitches. The point I’m trying to make is that you have to act cool tonight. Can you do that for me?”
“Sure Danny, you don’t have to worry about me.”
“Good, good, I knew I didn’t. I’m gonna make sure you get hooked up with a nice piece of ass to pump. You spend too much time with your dick in those textbooks and not enough time with it in pussy. I worry about you man, you aren’t goin’ homo on me, are you?”
It had been four weeks since Michael had been with a girl. A pretty brunette had picked him up at a nightclub and taken him back to her apartment for a night of sweet lovemaking, but had given him the cold shoulder when he’d tried to contact her again.
For Danny Richardson, going without sex for four days, let alone for weeks, is nigh on impossible. Anyone that doesn’t match his sexual appetite instantly becomes a homosexual in Danny’s eyes.
“No,” Michael said evenly. “I like girls Danny, but I also want to pass college. You know, that’s why we’re here, to get our degrees.”
Danny began to laugh as if he’d heard a real backslapper of a joke, and Michael just shook his head. Danny was the epitome of every jock you’ve ever seen in those teen movies about college. Most people are under the impression that it’s pure fiction, but the reason those guys exist in the movies is because they actually exist in the real world.
So how had they become friends and subsequent roommates? Good question.
For the first year of college Michael had been living on campus and had knuckled down completely into his classes. He’d made no friends, acquired no girlfriends, and the idea of going to a party would’ve made him queasy; he was a loner and always had been.
In High School he’d been that guy who kept to himself all the time and had excelled without anyone noticing. Unlike so many others with his level of intelligence he had never suffered at the hands of a bully, and had always gone to school to learn, not socialize.
After the completion of exams at the end of his first college year, Michael had gone out to a pub to celebrate what he knew were going to be exceptional scores. He wasn’t much of a drinker but he’d decided that he’d earned the privilege to let loose for a while. Somehow he had managed to be pulled into a pool tournament that was going on, and due to the fact that his father owned a bar and had spent thousands of hours teaching him the art of pool, he’d kicked everyone’s asses in two seconds flat.
Danny had been on the sidelines observing this ass-kicking with a pretty blonde date, and had been mightily impressed by his stellar performance.
Even with their differences they’d managed to get along pretty well, and for some unknown reason Danny had taken an instant liking to him. He’d managed to pull Michael out of his shell and to some extent begin to enjoy the party life. Their friendship had advanced to the point where they both decided to swap Danny’s Swedish roommate into Michael’s dorm room, and so the rest was history.
Most of the time Danny was full of shit but Michael still enjoyed his company. Maybe it was because someone popular finally liked him.
“All I’m saying, Mikey, is that you need to dip your wick, get a little bit of muff and enjoy yourself. This party is the fucking bee’s knees. Only one hundred and fifty guys are allowed through the doors and the hundred bucks entry is definitely worth it. You brought the money, right?”
“Yeah, I’ve got it,” Michael said, patting his wallet. “Why so much money though? I mean, surely electricity, booze, cleaning up…All that doesn’t cost fifteen thousand dollars?”
“I told you Mikey, there’s a door prize that you go in the running to win and you’ll fucking love it. Trust me, one hundred bucks is chicken feed for what you get if you’re the lucky winner.”
“What’s the prize?” he asked.
Danny turned his eyes from the road again and grinned. Michael felt the urge to cringe, because Danny’s grin was somewhat unsettling; bordering on being sleazy and manipulative.
To the untrained eye it might appear that Danny was a bit of a moron, but he wasn’t. Over time Michael had come to believe that Danny’s foul mouth and dulled intellect were an elaborate ploy so that people would underestimate him.
“It’s a surprise my man, but trust me Mikey, these parties are so awesome I’m gonna have you hooked for life. After tonight you’re gonna think you’re kissed on the dick by a fairy.”
Danny pulled the Mercedes off the road with a screech of rubber and eased it into a parking space across from a massive three story house. All the lights were burning and Michael could just make out the front door. Two massive black bouncers stood at either side and ferried those with legitimate passes inside, and those who were trying to get in without the proper I.D. were sent sprawling down the front steps.
He’d heard a few rumors about the parties Eric ‘The Stoner’ Stone threw. Some of them had come directly from Danny’s mouth while others were just the usual campus gossip. Apparently it was the one party everyone strove to attend, although no one that hadn’t actually been knew why.
He’d also heard plenty about Eric Stone. Campus folklore suggested that his father, Maxwell Stone, had been a multi-millionaire, having struck it rich by investing in Bill Gates’ Microsoft company in its early stages of conception. If you believed the gossip mongers, when Maxwell passed away Eric had inherited it all.
Now, at the ripe age of twenty-nine, all The Stoner did was party like no tomorrow and throw a special bash once a month for a selected minority only. And to tell the truth, Michael was pretty damn curious about what went on.
“Don’t look at the bouncers when we get to the door and don’t say a fucking word, just let me do the talking,” Danny said as they walked up the footpath.
“Name, member’s number and card?” the black guy on the left said softly, his voice a rich timbre. Such a soft voice on a big guy was quite bizarre, but Michael didn’t look up at him, he just continued to stare at the door.
“Daniel John Richardson, member number 731,” he said, handing the black guy his card.
“Who’s your friend? We haven’t seen him before.”
“That’s Michael Kirby. The Stoner invited him personally.”
“Kirby, Michael,” the black bouncer said, producing a list from his jacket pocket. “Yup, he’s on here. He knows the rules, right? No talking about what goes on in here or it’s his ass.” Michael looked up at him with a scared look in his eyes. “And I mean that literally, Mr. Kirby. I know a few bull queers and they’d love to fuck your pretty little white ass.”
“He’s good Sampson, trust me, we won’t have any problems with him.”
Michael had the sudden urge to play smartass and ask the other black bouncer if his name was Delilah, but he wasn’t sure if he would have any teeth left or if he’d be able to walk straight after his asshole had been broken in. He kept his mouth shut like a good little boy.
The big oak door leading into the mansion was unlocked and they were ushered through quickly. Once inside the foyer, Michael immediately knew how Alice must’ve felt when she stepped through the looking glass. The door banged shut hollowly behind him and he gazed open mouthed at the amazing sight before him, moments later feeling the familiar stirring between his legs.
This certainly wasn’t going to be any ordinary party.
^ ^ ^ ^ ^
Since Michael had become friends with Danny Richardson he’d been on more dates than he could remember. Most of those lovely young girls had quite willingly taken him back to their dorm rooms or their apartments in town, sharing with him nights of ecstasy that made him feel more like a god than a mere mortal.
He absolutely loved sex and couldn’t get enough of it, and the girls he’d been meeting would let him do whatever he wanted; their sexual appetites were simply insatiable.
After a year of solid introversion he’d finally begun to enjoy college life and the many perquisites it offered him. Of course, he still busted his ass in academics, but after classes he would allocate a lot of his time to hanging out with Danny, his friends and the numerous girls that took him on fabulous, occasionally torrid, sexual adventures.
Michael wasn’t a bad looking guy and he was quite aware of how girls found his light green eyes extremely appealing. The rest of him wasn’t that bad either: tousled brown hair, an athletic body and a nicely proportioned appendage which, while not huge, was never frowned upon in the size department. He supposed that his association with Danny Richardson hadn’t hurt his situation, either.
Looking on with wide eyes at the scene in front of him, Michael had no doubts as to why these parties were kept hushed and only the bare minimum of people were invited.
The foyer was half the size of an Olympic sized swimming pool and at the opposite end there was an archway that led off to the rest of the house. Standing in the middle of the foyer were two people, one male and one female.
The girl looked to be about eighteen or nineteen and she was absolutely stunning. A little too thin for Michael’s taste, but she had such a pretty face that it didn’t seem to matter. Her hazel eyes were highlighted by the soft application of make-up (which he usually didn’t like) and her beautifully sculptured face was framed by straight, shoulder length black hair that was streaked with blood-red tips. While her breasts were smallish they appeared to be pert, and her nipples poked through the thin fabric of her snug singlet – which was bright pink and featured the words in bold black letters, ‘Door Prize – Hands Off!’
“Danny, you made it dude,” said the guy as they walked up to them. The mystery man was dressed in tan slacks and a t-shirt with ‘Party Animal’ written across the chest. A comic picture of a wolf sat underneath the words, making Michael grin as he noticed that it was passed out and surrounded by empty beer bottles.
Danny and the man did a high five and greeted one other formally by shaking hands.
“Holy fucking shit man, look at this gorgeous cunt you’ve got this month. Damn, it’s a pity she’s ‘hands off’ and not ‘hands on’, ‘cause I wouldn’t mind sampling a little of this.”
Michael’s gaze lingered on the girl’s body and his roaming eyes traveled from her face and breasts, down her stomach and terminated at her sheer white panties. Embroidered on the material was, ‘A cock is the only key to unlock these treasures’, and had an arrow that pointed to the vague outline of her puffy pussy lips.
She was looking directly at him and her face was flushed. He knew her, he realized, or didn’t know her but he’d seen her around. He gazed into her eyes and tried to picture where he’d seen her before, and then it finally clicked, she was in his English Literature class.
From what Michael could remember every single lecture she attended was viewed from the back of the room. She never seemed to have any friends hanging around her and the only contribution she ever paid to class participation was her presence. So what the fuck was she doing here dressed like this?
“Stoner, this is my friend, Michael Kirby. Michael, this is Eric Stone.”
His first impression of Stone was one of surprise. He was small in stature considering his god-like reputation and he looked rather normal, unlike the deity he’d expected to be confronted with. Clean-cut, well-dressed and baby-faced, hell, he was every bit as different as you could get from the mental picture he’d set in his mind.
“So you’re Michael?” Eric Stone asked thoughtfully. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about you, Michael. I got wind of you and Danny becoming friends and I insisted he bring you along tonight.”
Michael was speechless. The Eric Stone had specifically asked for him to come to his party. He didn’t even know how the hell the guy had heard of a light-weight like him.
Stone had a large transparent container filled with one hundred dollar bills and held it up between Danny and Michael.
“Your contributions to the lovely door prize, gentlemen,” he said.
Both Danny and Michael fished green notes from their wallets and dropped them into the container. Once in, Stone produced a lid from his pocket, screwed it down tightly and then threw it behind Michael towards the doorway. When Michael turned to watch the container bounce off the floor he saw a man standing in a concealed alcove dressed in a black suit, his eyes hidden behind an expensive pair of reflective sunglasses. The man, who looked like a Secret Service agent, caught the container and gave a curt nod.
“You’re it fellas, the last of the gravy train, so to speak. How rude of me, I haven’t introduced you to our gorgeous October door prize, Stephanie Sullivan,” Stone said as he turned to her, and then he watched both Danny and Michael feast their eyes. “Stephanie, this is Danny Richardson and Michael Kirby.
“Hi guys,” she said softly.
Stone moved in behind her and slid a hand through her hair, letting it fall to her shoulders as he kissed the nape her neck.
“What do you think, gentleman? Is she worth a measly hundred dollars for the chance to spend the night with her?”
Michael was almost salivating now. Her cheeks were glowing bright pink and her body was only a few feet from his. The distance between her body and his was so minimal that he could easily reach out and stroke her lovely chest or remove those panties to discover the treasures that they contained.
Stone stopped touching her, grabbed her hand and led her away from them. They stood transfixed as her firm ass wiggled back and forth as her feet carried her scantily clad body away from them.
“Come on guys, the party’s already started and you don’t want to miss a second of it,” Stone yelled, his voice echoing off the walls as he walked out of the foyer.
They looked at one another with wide eyes and started to follow, keeping pace but allowing a certain amount of distance so they could appraise Stephanie’s beautiful behind.
“Danny, I don’t understand. Is she the only girl that’s going to be here tonight?” Michael whispered.
“Fuck no,” Danny replied, his voice cringingly loud. “As long as you’re a hot chick you can get in without a pass. It’s only us guys that need the special invitation to attend.”
The loud thump of bass could be felt through the exquisite marble floor, its shine so buffed that you could probably eat a meal off it and it would be healthier than using a plate.
Adorning the walls were various paintings ranging from Picasso to artists he’d never heard of, and periodically they would pass original posters from classic movies that were mounted and framed – most of them signed by the pictures’ stars.
Obviously the ballroom was sound-proofed, because when Stone opened the twin doors a blast of techno music assaulted his eardrums. Dance music wasn’t Michael’s style, but he tolerated it due to the fact that he had to.
Inside, with Michael’s limited view, he could see what appeared to be a mass of writhing bodies. Most of the girls were wearing low-cut skirts and flimsy tops, giving their male dancing partners easy access as they shook their bodies to the beat of the thumping music. From where he was standing it looked like a softcore porno shoot, with the distinct possibility of turning into a hardcore orgy of sex at any given moment.
Michael was about to step through the doors when Stone grabbed him by the arm and halted him. Danny, who was standing next to him, looked as surprised by this gesture as Michael.
“Not you, Michael. I’ve got something I want to show you.”
“Okay,” he replied, feeling a little anxious.
Stone dropped Stephanie’s hand and turned to Danny, narrowing his eyes. “Danny, I want you to escort this lovely young lady around the party so that the guys and gals can get to know her. If anyone so much as brushes up against her I give you permission to break their arms.”
“You can count on me, Stoner.”
“Good. Follow me, Michael.”
Obedient to a fault, Michael kept stride with The Stoner as he led him down a narrow passage to their unknown – to Michael at least – destination .
It was bad enough that Eric Stone had personally invited him, what made matters worse was that he seemed to have an agenda to go with it. An ordinary guy like Michael Kirby didn’t warrant the attention of an entrepreneur such as Stone.
“You have a brother called Jack, don’t you?” Stone asked.
“How did you know about that?”
“I heard through the grapevine that a guy called Jack Kirby had quite a party for his eighteenth birthday. Your surname isn’t exactly common, so I took a stab in the dark.”
A few months ago his brother had turned eighteen. Unfortunately Michael hadn’t been able to attend due to an overload of assignments, but if he had he would have been privy to the orgy that had transpired. From the limited details that Jack had given, a girl had gotten drunk and had taken it upon herself to entertain a large quantity of men in an upstairs bedroom.
“Oh, well, from what Jack told me it was the party of the century,” Michael said.
They came to an intersection and turned left. Stone’s mansion was so huge that it was an absolute maze of corridors and rooms, leaving Michael to wonder if Hansel and Gretel had the right idea in pioneering the fabled dropping of breadcrumbs.
Stone turned to him and smiled. “What do you think of Miss October?”
“She’s very attractive. I envy the lucky guy that wins.”
Stone stopped walking and grabbed the hem of Michael’s jacket, slowing him up too.