Traffic Girl - Katie Ch. 04

Author's Note: Apologies for the very long delay between chapters. With so much going on around the holidays, along with battling illness, I haven't had as much time to write. I hope the wait is worth it, though, because here is the wedding reception for John and the girls. It's a celebration - a culmination - of the pinnacle of happiness the group has reached. But there is something unexpected and darker lurking down the road for our friends. Enjoy.

* * *

My brain took more than a few moments to kick in because it was shrouded in an epic hangover. That much I knew for sure. Everything else? Was fuzzy. Almost as fuzz as my tongue felt in my dry mouth. My neck was sore, and my eyes were blurry. They flickered open, and the sun was at brutal full force, so I closed them again. The brief period they had remained open, though, confused me even further.

Where the fuck was I?

It definitely wasn't our house in LA. It wasn't one of the Hollywood & Vine houses. It wasn't Juliet and Melanie's.

I tried to force some saliva out of my glands and swallowed. I steeled myself and opened my eyes again. I was on a couch. It was definitely a couch. That's why my neck hurt, I thought. I was cold, too. I didn't have a blanket. And I was naked. Definitely naked. I looked to my right. It was so bright because huge picture windows were in front of me, looking out to an expansive patio and backyard. I saw a tennis court in the distance.

Houston. I was in our house in Houston.

My eyes focused. The buzz in my ears receded. I saw the remnants of cocaine on the glass coffee table. There was probably enough dusted over the top to shape into six lines at least. I closed my eyes again and listened for any signs of life in the house. Nothing. You could hear a pin drop.

I rubbed my hands down my thighs, massaging them, and got the courage to sit up. The room spun a little bit, but I managed. I put my feet on the floor, a thick rug providing ample cushion. I peeled my skin off the leather couch and realized I was sweating a little bit. I stood up and looked around the room. There were a dozen empty magnums of Champagne on the bar. More cocaine residue. A couple stubbed out cigars and joints. Two very dirty bongs. A small pile of xanax. I went for the pills and washed down two with a glass of flat bubbly that was left on the bar. There was no one else in the room.

So I went exploring.

Moving around helped my body settle into a landing pattern toward normalcy. I think the sip of Champagne had helped, and the xanax would kick in soon. Nothing but empty glasses littered the dining room. The kitchen was a mess, but the fridge was still full of Champagne. Fuck it, I thought, and grabbed a bottle. I pulled the cork carefully, releasing it with nothing more than a faint sigh. I poured a glass and continued my tour.

On the couches in the great room, I was surprised to find a naked and passed out Bryce, our wide receiver friend who we hadn't seen in too long. Across from him was an equally naked and passed out Jamie, his quarterback on the Vegas football team.

Seeing them triggered my slow memory. That's right. Last night was the Super Bowl. Houston had played San Francisco. It was the day after the third and final Stages Tour concert had taken place in Houston. We had all partied with Riley and Henry and the crew Saturday night after that gig, then just kept it rolling through Super Bowl Sunday until ... now. I took a drink, and the cold bubbles hit me like a lightning bolt. It was good, and my mouth started to recover.

I concluded my lap around the ground floor by checking on our primary bedroom. The door was closed, and I opened it quietly. I saw Jess and Katie still in bed, their legs and blonde hair tangled together. The door to the bathroom was closed, but I heard the shower running. I slid the door open a few inches and saw Kat and Rita in the shower together. They were giggling and playing grab-ass, and I wondered how they possibly could be so energetic. I closed the door again and decided to survey the rest of the house.

Upstairs, Jason was laid out with Crystal and Bianka in one of the bedrooms. I closed the door to let them sleep. Petey and Alix were in another. In the two back bedrooms, however, things got more interesting. One door was locked, but it was obvious someone was fucking behind it. The other door was open, and I discovered Nicole playing mistress of ceremonies in an ongoing group sex session. She was riding Ryan, the superhero movie star, reverse cowgirl. Jen, the other traffic girl who had since gone into escorting full-time in Vegas, was sucking on Nicole's tits. Next to them, Christy, my favorite flight attendant-turned-whore, was bent over the side of the bed being fucked by Dave, Riley's tour guitarist. In front of Christy, kneeling on the bed, was Ken, Riley's drummer, and Christy deep-throated his cock with ease.

My mind started to emerge from its fog. It was Monday. We had been in Houston since last Wednesday. All four of us had gone to the three Houston shows and cheered on Katie, wrapping up on Saturday. The Super Bowl happened Sunday. That's right. Johnny had engineered a 92-yard touchdown drive, throwing the championship-winning pass with two seconds left to secure Houston's second title in three years. That's why the party had gotten so crazy last night. It was a celebration.

But so many familiar faces from all over were here. Why? I emptied my glass of Champagne and worked my way back to the stairs, planning to refill it. My mind started to get in gear. That's right. It was Monday, and on Tuesday? We were going to Stephen's ranch - for the first time since Johnny and Shelly's wedding a couple years before. We were finally going to throw our big wedding reception for all our friends. A bunch of us had come in early for the concerts and the big game. Then we'd just keep the party rolling down at the ranch for a two-day orgy of every indulgence you could imagine.

Back in the kitchen, I poured another glass of Champagne. I steadied myself against the island and took a long drink. By the time I finished it and poured myself a third, I felt better, and the door to our bedroom opened. Kat and Rita came out, dressed in tennis outfits and looking delicious. I loved the short, pleated white skirts and tight, sleeveless shirts they were. Their hair, in ponytails, bounced gaily.

"Good morning, daddy!" Kat said and kissed me. Her breath was minty.

"How are you feeling, love?" Rita asked with a knowing smile.

"I'm slowly recovering my human form," I said.

They laughed.

"Do you still want to go meet the team plane?" Kat asked, her eyes dancing. She knew the answer.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"Eight thirty," Rita said.

"Fuck me, that's early," I said. "Who's damn-fool idea was that?"

Kat and Rita looked at each other and laughed but didn't say anything.

"It was mine, wasn't it?" I said.

They nodded at me.

"Yeah, I don't think I can do it," I said.

"Do a line, baby," Rita said.

"Or do you want a booty bump?" Kat suggested. "That's what we did before our shower."

"That sounds tempting," I said.

"Let's do it, daddy," Kat said. "Just bend over the counter."

"Fuck it," I said. "Yeah, let's do it."

Two minutes later, I was like a new man. Energy coursed through me. The xanax helped balance me out. The Champagne was more cold and refreshing than ever.

"Should we play a match?" Kat asked Rita.

"I don't know," Rita said. "I kind of want to find Steph. And that Champagne looks so good."

"I'll pour you a glass," I said.

"Okay, let's face it," Kat said. "We aren't going to stop partying. Let's just go with it."

"Steph is here?" I said.

"Oh, daddy," Kat said and hugged me.

"We are going to have to rebuild your memory, John!" Rita said with a laugh.

"I saw her going down to the guest house with London last I remember," Kat said.

"London is here?" I said.

"Oh, daddy," Kat said again and laughed heartily.

The sound caused Bryce and Jamie to stir on the couch several feet away.

"Let's go check it out," Rita said. "I want to see how they did on their assignment."

"Are you going to fill me in?" I asked as I poured glasses of Champagne for my wives.

"Walk and talk," Rita said.

We went out through the patio doors and took a roundabout way to the guest house.

"So what was this assignment?" I asked.

"Before we went to bed," Rita explained, "I told Steph and London they needed to try to get each other to squirt."

"Do you think they did it?" Kat asked.

"I don't know," Rita said. "I just wanted them to fuck like bunnies and see if they could handle it."

Rita didn't knock when we got to the guest house. She just strode through the front door. Kat and I followed a few feet behind her. We heard Rita speak up before we saw the scene inside.

"How did we do, girls?" Rita spoke authoritatively.

Just as Steph and London came into view, we could hear moans coming from the living room. They were on the couch, bouncing against each other with a long, double-ended dildo between them. There was a pile of cocaine on the coffee table, and the two pretty blondes looked wired and entranced.

"I'm so close! I'm so close!" Steph shrieked.

"I did it! She made me squirt last night!" London said proudly.

"Goddess, I'll get there! I'm so close!" Steph said, her voice quivering.

"Keep at it!" Rita said, clapping her hands and turning on the toe of her crisp, white tennis shoes to leave through the front door again.

"You're loving this, aren't you?" I said, flashing her a grin.

"It's even more fun than I thought it would be," Rita said. "I feel very, very powerful."

"You are powerful," Kat said.

"You girls sure you don't want to play some tennis?" I joked.

"That ship has sailed, daddy," Kat said.

"Yeah, let's hit a couple lines and get packed for the trip," Rita said.

* * *

Our wedding reception was going to be an epic affair. To be honest, we had never thrown a party like it. Of course, we had never gotten married before. It was also a different kind of party because, while we had always planned to throw a big reception, this one just kind of fell together. Normally, we did detailed planning, like at Jess's Hollywood & Vine opening party. But this came together in just a couple weeks because of favorable circumstances and coincidences.

Riley and Henry's tour was going to be in Houston. Then the Houston football team made the Super Bowl again. The week following the tour stop and the Super Bowl, everyone we wanted in attendance would be available to celebrate with us.

And then, at the opening of the swingers club, Kat had mentioned the event to Stephen, who offered up his ranch to host it. Voila, wedding reception planned. We were extremely excited about going back to Stephen's ranch. We had gotten our first taste of the Hollywood lifestyle there that we had now adapted as our own. And we also loved that the two-day party would be held in total seclusion.

Most of all, however, we were excited about the guest list. It would include everyone who had been and was important in our lives. Everyone from LA and Hollywood would be there, including Stephen and Francesca, as well as our swingers group. The Daydream pornstars and all the girls from the LA and Vegas Infinity Hooker Houses would join in. Our football friends would be there, including Shelly and Johnny, who we hadn't seen in ages. In all, there would be about fifty of us. But, unlike any party of this scale we had ever thrown or even been to, we would be the center of attention. And everyone with us would be people we had intimate knowledge of.

In some ways, we viewed the wedding reception as a monument to the relationships - personal, professional, and sexual - that the five of us had built over our years together. For some of our friends, it would be an escape from the normal. For others, it would be a long overdue reunion. No matter what, however, this was going to be a bacchanalian celebration of lust, excess, and indulgence that was the hallmark of our lives.

Tuesday morning, the five of us went ahead of everyone else to the ranch. We arrived at about ten o'clock. Stephen had been extremely generous, as usual, not only with providing the venue but also lending the expert logistical skills of his usual staff. So when we walked into the main ranch house? Everything was ready.

It was eerie, honestly, to walk into the place and see it spotless, perfectly decorated in accordance with the girls' instructions, and completely empty. It was totally silent. No one was around. And that was the idea. We wanted total privacy. We wanted total indulgence. The only time anyone but our guests would be on the property would be at meal time, when two of Stephen's most trusted assistants would take care of ensuring we had sustenance.

"Oh, how I had missed these little guys!" Jess exclaimed as she ran over to an antique snuff box that sat on the coffee table in the great room.

Stephen had dozens of those boxes throughout the ranch buildings, and they were filled with perfect, pure cocaine. My wives immediately were on their knees, eagerly diving into their first lines of the day. Freshly energized, we toured the ranch in two Mules, checking on all the buildings to ensure the accommodations were ready for everyone. They were. It would comfortably hold everyone, like a private luxury resort. There were drugs galore and endless supplies of alcohol. Not a drop of the goods were anything but the finest quality.

We returned to the main house, which teemed with glorious fresh flower arrangements, and I popped the first of countless magnums of Champagne that we went through in those two days. This was a situation we had been in dozens of times - the five of us, sipping an early drink and waiting for our party guests to arrive. Nevertheless, this felt completely different. We had never had a party so large where people were going to be so comfortable with one another. Not everyone in each group knew each other, but we didn't doubt they would mesh. It was entertaining to think about the loads of fun we could fall into with our close circle of friends coming together with the Hollywood crew, the Daydream talent, the Infinity girls, and our Houston and football friends. It seemed like a bomb ready to explode.

As excited as I was for the party, there were two questions in my mind. First, was how the five of us could possibly keep up. The reception, more than just a celebration, would also serve as something like a reunion. We hadn't seen some of our friends, especially the football players, in months. Life in LA also had become so busy, we lost a bit of contact with Vegas and Houston. That made me wonder, at least for me personally, how I could reconnect with those I hadn't seen in a while, especially the likes of Nicole or Shelly or Kelly. And by reconnect I meant fuck. I couldn't help myself. I had missed some of these girls. A lot.

Second, I also wondered how we were going to make the reception special. I didn't want it to just be another swingers party or orgy. I wanted it to be a worthy marker of the occasion. What would set this party apart? What would make it more than the hedonistic indulgence that we experienced on an almost daily basis? Was it even possible to push the bar even higher for erotic escapades?

We would find out. Although Jess had proposed a game that would spice things up, at least a little bit. She had each of us pick one sexual scenario that each of us wanted to live out during the party. But we couldn't tell anyone what it was before we did it. It sparked excitement and some friendly competition. On one hand, we couldn't resist trying to guess what each other would do. On the other hand, we wondered who would get creative and who would be predictable.

All those thoughts swept through my mind as we waited for our first guests to arrive. Simply feeling the nervous energy that emanated among us made me feel a little buzzed. We had a couple hours before expecting anyone to show up, so we tried to relax by dipping into the supply of incredible Champagne Stephen had provided. There was a magnum of Cristal rosé that caught my eye, and I couldn't resist popping it. There was even a nine-liter bottle of Dom Perignon laying flat in a bathtub-sized ice bucket for a toast with everyone. The cork on the Cristal almost rocketed out of the bottle, taking me by surprise. I filled five wide-bowled Burgundy glasses with the salmon-colored liquid and passed the stems out to the girls. My wives raised them immediately, expecting me to make a toast. So I did.

"Well, here we are," I said, thinking on my feet. "We finally made it? We actually made it? I don't know exactly how to describe it. Because it is absolutely indescribable to me that this is our life together. Still, I'll try to put some words to it."

I looked at each of the girls, letting my gaze linger on them individually for a moment, as they laughed at my opening statement.

"I know all of you wondered, as I did, whether being married would change anything among us," I said. "And it has. Maybe how we are day-to-day isn't different, but I feel something new. I feel like I'm standing on ground that is more solid. I feel like every day I go into the world with a new level of confidence. I feel certain that, no matter what the day brings, I can handle it. That we are destined for success because we're together."

"Hear, hear!" Kat shouted.

"So, I think what I'm really trying to say is that the bond of our union together," I concluded, "makes me feel like we can achieve even greater things. I think we should take this opportunity, surrounded by the incredible community of friends we've built, to see just how fucking naughty we can get."

"Cheers!" Rita cried.

Our glasses clinked together, and we laughed. The Champagne was cold, complex, and delicious. We all drained the first round quickly, and I refilled us. By the time I stared at the empty bottom of my glass after the second pour, I felt a wave of relaxation come over me.

"This is going to be so fun," I said to Rita, who stood next to me.

I kissed her, and her tongue playfully darted into my mouth.

"I hope so," she said, her eyes sparkling. "As long as I can quench my thirst, I will be just fine."

"I feel like that's a hint about what your goal is," I said.

"My lips are sealed," she flirted.

Kat, Jess, and Katie sat together on a couch. Katie was staring at the antique snuff box, brightly polished, and inviting.

"It's going to get fingerprints on it eventually," I said, looking at her.

"What, daddy?" Katie said.

"The silver box," I said. "It won't be that shiny for long. Dig in, I say."

"I mean, should we?" Katie said.

"It's only an hour until people show up," Jess said.

"And this is all about doing whatever we want," Kat added.

"I don't know," Katie said. "Is it too early to hit the coke?"

We all laughed. Her hesitance was cute.

"When did we start being polite?" I asked rhetorically.

"Well, I'm going to have some," Jess said. "And I'll polish the box again. I don't care. But this is a party, and I'm going to start it!"

Katie laughed along with her, and both girls slid to their knees. Inside the container, which had an elaborately engraved scene from the Garden of Eden on the lid, the cocaine sat fluffy and inviting. There was a spoon to the side, and Jess took five healthy scoops and dumped them onto the tabletop. I poured out more Champagne for us, and just like that Jess and Katie had ten neatly cut lines waiting for us.

There was no reason to lay off the coke until the others arrived. We felt it as soon as the room filled with the familiar chorus of insufflated lines. It gave us a pop of energy that put any remaining hints of nervousness in the rearview mirror. You could say that cocaine served as an "on" switch for us. It was symbolic of the freedom we felt in our lives. It was a constant companion to our good times. And there was nothing like the rush of that first line as it took hold. It was like punching the gas on a sports car. It smacked you in the face with endorphins and adrenaline. Everybody who liked coke knew that. But for the five of us, cocaine seemed to give us the same shot of sexual desire that molly traditionally would. It was like a steroid for our sex drives. As soon as we felt that compelling rush, we became like wild horses, needing to be restrained until we could be let loose to run free through the orgiastic prairie of our wedding party.