Washing Up Ch. 03

Author's Note: This chapter, while having some sexual elements, has more world building in mind.

Jamie's POV

Another year, another Halloween party that my roommate insists I agreed to go to. Honestly, why do I even bother trying to argue? They're so annoying that I will never hear the end of it if I don't go.

Here I am now, dressed in the same costume as last year. Looking in the mirror to make sure that I don't look too terrible, I am pleasantly surprised to see that my efforts in the gym have been paying off. My black muscle shirt is tight around my pecs and shoulders, leaving my cobbled midriff exposed. The black cargo pants that fit snugly last year hung loose, giving anyone who looked a view of the trail leading to my crotch.

For never leaving my room, I've avoided the pasty, pale skin that comes with living your life in front of the computer. My dark brown hair is swooped over. It's a stretch to say that I'm a spy, but I couldn't care less about Halloween or parties.

"JAMIE," my roommate, Adam, sings my name from across the apartment. "You'd better be ready, or we're going to be late!"

I sigh as I hear Adam's music blaring and his bottles of vodka clattering on the kitchen counter. I have to give him some credit. As much as he parties, he doesn't spend a lot at the bars. He spends just enough for the bouncers to believe he's bought enough to be drunk, then he breaks out his hidden flasks of vodka. As much as he saves on drinks, he's nearly gotten us fined for his music being too loud.

I walk out to the kitchen to see him pouring the vodka carefully. Before we get another complaint, I turn down his music and prepare myself for the bitching out I'm sure I am coming my way. This is not the first time we've had this conversation.

"Adam," I begin, "you know that you can't blare your music. Ms. Johnson is going to complain again. The office isn't going to let us get away with it again."

"That bitch can suck my dick," Adam whined huffily. "Not that she could. Although, I'd let you looking like that."

I'm not fazed by flirting. I honestly appreciate it. Only, Adam is not my type. He's cute and is proud of his tight ass, but I can't get past his personality. I would never have chosen him as my roommate, but I needed the money after my roommate left with no notice and a mess everywhere.

"You know that I don't fuck my roommates." I say. "But seriously, you'll get us fined, and that's going to cut into your vodka funds, because it's not my music that is blaring. You'll be paying my share of the fine."

A flash of anger crossed his face, but he eventually sighs.

"I'll turn it down," Adam concedes. "But you'll need to do something for me."

"What?" I ask.

"You have to stop being such a fucking buzzkill," Adam says. "My friends are going to be at this club, and I don't want you embarrassing me."

"Buzzkill," I laugh. "I don't even want to go to this party, Adam. I want to stay home and just relax. I don't like crowds. I don't like clubs. I don't like Halloween. I'm only going so you don't give me any grief about this. God only knows I'd love to be able enjoy a peaceful night for once."

If looks could kill, I'd probably be dead. His normally pale cheeks begin to flush to match the red hair neatly coifed to look like the gayest greaser possible. Adam carefully puts down his flask to prevent his precious vodka from spilling and makes his way over to me.

"Now listen here," he says. "I live in this apartment. I pay my share of the rent. I might like to listen to loud music, and yes, sometimes I play it too loud. I don't deserve to feel like a nuisance in my own home, especially made to feel that way from someone who thinks he's better than everyone."

"I don't think I'm better than anyone," I retort. "I just have better sense than you when it comes to considering others. You seem to think that just because you pay to live here, you can do anything you want. For once, would it kill you to think further than you own nose?"

Before tonight, I had no intention to have this argument, but now, now, it was time. For months now, I was letting every little thing build up and here was the explosion.

"My own nose! This, coming from the man who thinks that the only way to live is to sit on his ass in front of a computer. I haven't seen you bring any guys home. I guess you only seem to want to goon yourself to some fucked up Reddit porn, play your little video games, and sleep. If that's what you call a life, I don't want it. I only have one life, and I am going to live it. So, tonight, you can sit down, jack off to whatever you find, and I am going to bring back a real man who knows how to live and to fuck the shit out of me."

Before I can react, Adam stalks off to the kitchen, grabs his flask, and walks out the door, not before flipping me off. This is not how I wanted tonight to go.

Sighing, I walk back to my room, throw myself on my bed, and decide that I need to go to this party, if only to prove to my roommate that I do, in fact, know how to party.

After locking my door, I bump into our neighbor, Ms. Johnson. If it were about anything good, I'd be lucky, but tonight has already proved that I am not, in fact, lucky. The look on her face told me that I'd be lucky to avoid another fine.

"Good evening, Ms. Johnson." I say, pleasantly.

"Do you know what time it is?" she asked.

Nope. No luck at all tonight. For a woman who barely made it to my pecs and as thin as a rail post, this old woman is not one to trifle with.

I check my watch to see that it's only nine.

"Nine, ma'am," I say. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Yes," she said, snippily. "You and your pansy of a roommate can be quiet. I am tired of hearing whatever you call music. Now I get serenaded with shouting. Do you young people know what it means to have some decency?"

I wish Adam was the one to have to deal with her.

"Ms. Johnson," I begin, but I get cut off.

"If I hear one more peep out of you, I will skip the office and call the cops."

For something that wasn't my fault, and even when I tried to stop the problem, and now, to be threatened with the police, tonight wasn't my night. I tune her out and wait for a pause.

"Ms. Johnson," I say, pausing to get to her attention. "First, we both know that quiet hours begin at ten. Threatening me with the police, when we both know that a rule hasn't been broken, is a waste of my time, your time, and the polices' time. Second, the shouting you heard was me telling Adam that he needed to think about others, and that he needed to turn down his music. I am not going to deal with you tonight because, like Adam, you need to realize that you are not the only person who exists. Now, I am going to a party. Excuse me."

I turn around and leave. Never let the Karens get the last word.

"Well, I never!"

I turn around briefly to say, "It shows."

First, I have to deal with Adam, and now, because of him, I have to deal with a crotchety old woman. I shake my head and make my way to the bottom floor. Hopefully, I don't have to deal with anyone else.

"Trick or treat," I hear kids say from neighboring houses. Children dressed in a myriad of costumes and dragging bags of candy made their way down the sidewalk. Taking considerable effort not to snap at overeager candy seekers who lacked the ability to look where they were going, I made it out of the neighborhood.

The walk to the club takes about fifteen minutes and as each minute passed, I got more and more upset. I can't stay home, or Adam wins. Why does it matter what he thinks? I sigh as I hear the bump of music and the clamor of people waiting to get into the club. If only happening because I am already upset, the line is backed up around the corner.

I see Adam near the front of the line. He's already drinking from his flask, getting eyes from the bouncer. It wouldn't do to let someone already too drunk into the club. His friends, who admittedly are better than him, are trying to calm him down. I get no small amount of satisfaction knowing that he is having a bad time.

I revel in this feeling until the impact of someone bumping into me and the feeling of liquids seeping into my clothes. The frustration of having to potentially go home to change on top of the already shitty evening I'm already having makes me erupt.

"Oh, come the FUCK on!" I yell. "What else is going to happen tonight?"

I look around to see people staring at me and the person who bumped into me on the ground. Grunting, I reach down to help him up. He took my hand and looked at the bottle he held shattered on the ground. Just looking at the year from what remained of the label told me this is going to be a very expensive mistake. We look each other in the eyes knowing that my shirt was the least of his worries.

"Sorry," he said. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

Knowing that it wouldn't help anyone by getting angry, I just sigh.

"It's okay. I'm sure that you probably will be getting yelled at someone else. Me yelling won't make things any better."

The man relaxed but then stiffened as he saw my outfit.

"We have to get you out of those clothes!" he exclaims. "Come with me."

He tries to pull me away, but I stay where I am.

"It's okay," I try to reassure him. "I was probably just going to go home."

"No, you don't understand." he replies. "My boss will not allow me to let someone get dirty at his club at the fault of his employees. He will want to allow you to freshen up and leave wearing something clean."

Part of me believes this, but the other part thinks that he wants someone there to back him up when he tells his boss why a probably expensive bottle of whatever it is was broken. Well, if I can make things a little better for him, maybe karma will give me a good night for once.

"Fine." I give in to him. "Let's go meet your boss. We can't leave this bottle though."

"Don't worry about that. I'll send someone out to clean this up", he tells me.

Luckily, we aren't too far away from what appears to be an employee's entrance. Another employee is coming from the door to probably check on where his coworker is. His face is nothing short of anger.

"Matty," he began, "Where have you been?"

"Sorry, sir." Who I now know as Matty apologizes. "I bumped into this patron and broke a bottle of the boss' scotch. It ended up all over him. I was on my way to get someone to clean this up and bring this patron to the boss for a change of clothes."

"It's true," I say, trying to help. "It was an accident."

"I see," the new man, whose name tag shows are Martin, replies slowly.

"Regardless, Matty, you'll be the one to clean this up and apologize to this boss for this situation personally. I'll take him to the boss for a shower and change of clothes. We can't have him smelling like scotch and being sticky, nor can we allow this embarrassment to happen again."

Something in what Martin said clearly has Matty scared as the young man begins to pick up as many of the glass shards as possible. He leads me away as we leave Matty to do his cleaning.

The door I thought was an employees' entrance was evidently so, as we enter and the whispering of those still waiting in line ceased. The pounding of music reverberated down the hallway and the bass shook my bones. No wonder Adam blares his music, you'd be unable to hear anything after coming here only one time.

Martin brings me into an elevator and the music is still pounding so hard I can barely hear myself think. When we exit this elevator, the room we enter is completely cut off from the deafening thumps below. I take this chance to defend Matty.

"I think you might have been too harsh on him. It was only an accident."

"He has a history of breaking and spilling things. The boss keeps him around because he's cute. Now, if you will, please wait here while I get the boss."

I try to respond that it wasn't necessary, but Martin is gone. I look around to see ornate pieces of furniture, artworks, and gilded handicrafts across the room and leading down a hallway. Clearly, this boss of theirs is loaded. I hope that Matty doesn't have to pay him back for the bottle. It'd probably take the entirety of one of my paychecks to do so. With him being a server, I doubt he'd be able to pay it off for a few months.

A sudden noise gets my attention, and I investigate a room down the hallway that Martin walked down that has a door ajar. In it, men of all shapes and sizes are lounging around naked as the day they were born. Not one of then ashamed of being serviced by a kneeling young man all dressed in the same uniform as Matty. Moans and whines as the men ravish the young men. The smell of sex and musk waft from the room as a hand on my shoulder gets my attention.

I look up to see a man in his late thirties or early forties smiling at me. His closely trimmed beard beginning the first signs of greying, but his olive-tanned skinned gives hints to his Mediterranean roots. The smile reaches his hazel eyes and brings his strong jaw line up showing a healthy vigor that people pay millions to achieve.

Between the now stickiness of my clothes, the orgy going on next to me, and the mysterious man grinning at me, I'd rather be home doing exactly what Adam claimed I would be doing.

"I see you found entertainment room," he says in a deep voice. "It's nice to meet you, my name is Stephan."

I take his outstretched hand and shook, only not to be rude.

"Nice to meet you too, um, Stephan." I say. "I'm Jamie. I think that this is all a misunderstanding. Martin said I would be given clothes, but I really don't live too far from here to go home and shower. I wouldn't want to disturb your Halloween."

I try to inch back, but the firm hand that gripped my shoulder previously prevents me from leaving.

"Nonsense," he says lazily. "My club has a reputation for being the best in the city, and I won't have you leaving covered in liquor spilled by a careless employee. Now, you'll come with me, and I won't broker any arguments."

He all but drags me down the hallway away from the orgy in the entertainment room. The room he brings me to was simply decorated, but still spoke of money. The bed in it is large enough to hold at least five people in it. The couches and cushions strewn about the room betray the ornate vision from the entry way. Clearly, this room is meant to be enjoyed in a cozier way. For being the potential owner of modern-day brothel, Stephan has really good taste.

"This is a lovely room, Stephan." I complement him.

While the room itself was cozy, it's clear everything was top of the line. What draws my eye, aside from the bed, is the computer in the office next door. Leagues better than my own, I shouldn't be surprised that he owns such a beautiful piece of hardware.

"Thank you," he says. "I only let my employees in here and a few guests. The men you saw were friends who generously fund the building you see here. In return, the boys reward them and get rewarded themselves. Most only have to work here one year to set themselves up for the next ten years. It's not uncommon for me to see them work here for longer, but I do insist they move on to something greater after two years."

The way he describes it makes it seem like he was doing them a favor.

"But they're essentially nothing but whores." I say before I could catch myself.

If he cared, it didn't show.

"Yes." he agrees. "Every one of my employees is a whore. They take the job knowing that. They're adults and they're consenting. They can leave at any time, and I won't stop them. I have even given everyone who told me they were leaving a letter of reference and recommendation. What's wrong with that?"

The more I think about it, the more I can't find fault with it. When I looked at the orgy going on down the hallway, no one looked upset. Then again, I didn't ask.

"What about diseases?" I argued. "Having that many partners cannot be healthy."

Without missing a beat, he retorted.

"Having access this this much money, I am connected to the best advancements in medical science that money can buy. Simply put, and I'd be willing to show you after you shower and stop reeking of moth balls and scotch, the boys that work here will never catch a disease, no matter how many loads they take from however many different partners."

That sounds impossible, but the seriousness of his voice begins to make me doubt my skepticism. Could there have been such an advancement, and why hasn't it been made mainstream? I decide to see this for myself, despite the orgy next door.

"I'd love to see it and I'll be happy to take you up on your offer."

The smile on his face brings back some worry, but I push that down.

"Right this way", he says as he leads me to a room.

Much like the bedroom we were just in, his bathroom claims simplicity and coziness, but is still top of the line. To the right, there is a bathtub large enough to hold many people. A large shower stands in the corner. The shower itself is larger than my bathroom back home. Shower heads stick out from all angles ensuring that those inside would be drenched in a matter of seconds.

Stephan sees me taking it in and chuckles.

"This is my second-favorite room in the club. I spend a lot of time here, admittedly too much time. Come, let's get you into the shower."

He begins to undress and motions for me to do the same. I wasn't expecting to shower with him, but I hear a click behind me, telling me that I wasn't leaving until I did. It's okay. In a few hours, I will be back in my apartment, and I will never have to come here again.

I begin to match him in undressing. First the shirt, then the pants and socks, and try as I might to put it off, I take off my boxers to show him my half-hard cock. While he's looking at me, I look at him. My cock betrays me.

Stephan is someone who clearly takes care of himself. The chiseled face is just the tip of the iceberg. Beneath the blazer and silk shirt lies a chest carved from marble. His pecs jut from his chest to almost for a shelf. His muscled torso tapers down, his abs cobbling the way down. Hair covers his chest and trails down to his crotch, something he is not ashamed of.

Standing out from his crotch is the girthiest cock I've ever seen. Long, thick, and veiny, it is clear that this man knows that he is going to fuck. While not a bottom myself, if it ever came between us, we both know who'd end up taking a cock.

"Now that we've finished admiring each other, shall we?" he asked, and leads the way to the shower.

Following him, I close the door behind me. I look to see someone enter and take our clothes. Stephan's are carefully folded. Mine are carelessly thrown in a trash bag.

"Don't worry." Stephan says. "We're almost the same size, I will have something brought up for you to wear out."

The water turns on and I feel the spray of water hit me from all sides. I've never had such an experience in the shower, and I am surely enjoying it by the smile on my face. Stephan looks down at me and laughs.

"As much fun as it would be to stay here all night, we must get you clean."

He grabbed a blue bottle from the shelf and began to pour it over my body. First my back and then he pushed himself against me to wrap his arms around my torso. The thick cock pushing against my ass crack distracted me from the tingles cascading around my body and begins to move up and down my body. Every place he touches with his soapy hands began to radiate in tingles.

The strong hands rubbing up and down my body begin to grope down to my thickening cock. I'm no virgin, but now, I'm panting like a virgin in heat. He kneels to rub the lather up and down my legs, taking time to knead my ass cheeks and to insert a finger into my puckering hole.

Standing up, he takes more soap and generously drizzles it into my hair and on my face. The strong hands that have me a panting mess begin to knead the lather into my scalp and across my face.