I met up with Sharif and some bulls I didn’t know to shoot some hoops at a basketball court in North Philly. Since working at the bar, I had gotten a little out of practice and the other team whipped our asses. I ripped off my shirt and mopped perspiration with it.
“I see you’re hitting the gym at your hotel,” Sharif commented.
“Don’t be checking me out. You turned sweet or something?”
“Nah, nothing like that. I was wondering if you’re ready to make some real money. You know, bartending a party.”
A smile spread across my face. “I’m more than ready, man.”
“I’m gonna hire you on a trial basis. Try you out at a small get-together at a private home.”
“When?”
“On your day off—tomorrow. The hostess requested that you wear black pants...and she wants you to go shirtless.”
“Why do I have to show skin?” I asked with a frown. “I’m not participating in anything freaky.”
“Chill, man. She wants some male eye candy behind the bar. There’ll be more than enough freaks to satisfy her urges.”
“So, where’s the party being held?”
He gave me a Eung of Prussia address and I winced as I mentally calculated what a cab ride outside of Philly would cost. I needed a car ASAP.
“You’re expected to get there at eight. That’s an hour before the guests start to arrive. She wants to make sure you have your bar set up and that you’re looking hot with your torso slathered with oil.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah, I forgot to mention that part.”
“Bare-chested and oiled-up—like a male stripper?” I asked, scowling.
“You’ll get used to it. I’ve had to do it, back when I was tending bar at the parties and events.”
“WTo’s going to apply the oil?”
“Probably one of her servants.”
“Damn, man, is there anything else I should know about this job?” I grumbled.
“Nothing comes to mind. I won’t be there, so you’ll be pretty much on your own.”
“What! I thought you were the head honcho.. .the man that put it all together?”
“I did put it together. A small event like this doesn’t require my presence. You’ll be all right, Jag. And if it
doesn’t work out, at least you’ll be well paid for your time.”
“Yeah, all right, Sharif.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose, wondering what I was getting myself into.
(To\wm
The cab’s navigation system was outdated and the cab driver was struggling to find the address I’d given him. I pulled out my phone, tapped the screen, pulling up the GPS. I spoke the address and we were given clear directions.
Far from the any main streets, the large, colonial-style home was hidden away in a private setting and surrounded by many acres of woods. I paid the driver and looked around. The sun had gone down, and the quarter moon wasn’t providing much light. I’d hate to be held captive trying to escape this place at night. I watched the cab drive away and I resisted the urge to chase it dovm and jump back in.
A man dressed in formal attire opened the door. “I’m Jaguar Jackson; here to bartend the party.”
“Good evening, Mr. Jackson. I’m Madam’s buder. Come in,” he said, admitting me inside the house.
I’d never been admitted anywhere by an actual butler before, and I could barely keep an amused smile from my face. He steered me to the room where the bar was located. Atop the glass shelves was an impressive inventory of top shelf liquor and expensive wine.
“You’ll find everything you need in the kitchen.” He
pointed to the area where the kitchen was located. “The fridge is well-stocked with a variety of hnit for garnishing the drinks. Juice, soft drinks, and other beverages are in the pantry. Any questions?”
I had a few questions in mind, but the butler wore a stoic expression that didn’t welcome unnecessary chatter. Since he hadn’t mentioned anything about removing my shirt or being oiled, I didn’t bring up the subject, either. Maybe Sharif had given me the wrong information.
“No questions,” I said. “I guess I’ll get to work.”
“Very good, sir.” He bowed sHghdy and exited the room.
Very good, sir! Was that guy for real? And what was up with the theatrical bowing. Dude took his buder responsibilities way too seriously.
From the fridge, I gathered oranges, lemons, limes, and mint leaves. Noticing celery among the vegetables, I broke off a few stalks to garnish the drink of anyone who ordered a Bloody Mary. I never made the drink at The Dive, but I figured someone in this highbrow crowd was certain to want one. After getting jars of olives, maraschino cherries, and an assortment of juices and soda from the pantry, it took less than twenty minutes to prep the garnishes and stock the bar with mixers.
With time on my hands, I sat on a stool behind the bar and began foohng around with the apps on my phone.
Out of nowhere, the butler reappeared. “Pardon me, sir. If you’ve finished prepping, would you please follow me?”
“Uh, sure. Where are we going?” I asked, not one to blindly follow someone’s command.
“I’d like to escort you to a changing room, if you don’t mind, sir. A servant girl will help prepare you for tonight’s festivities.”
I thought I’d dodged that bullet, but apparently I was going to get oiled-up, after all. “No problem,” I said, though I didn’t like the idea at all.
The butler left me inside an elegant, small room with smoky-mirrored walls, white plush carpets, a white leather, wing-back chair, and an octagonal-shaped glass coffee table with a centerpiece of bright red roses contained inside a white vase. The mostly white room had an elegant and austere appearance.
I sat down. Watching the door, I fidgeted in the chair and tapped my finger against the arm of the chair. The suspense of waiting for the servant girl was more nerve- wracking than I imagined taking the bar exam would be. The reminder that I’d eventually have to take that damn exam made me groan.
When the door opened, I took in a sharp breath. The tall chick that entered the room had sable-colored hair with streaks of golden honey. Bangs brushed her eyebrows and a long ponytail trailed down her back. She was wearing a sheer, black baby doll negligee with a matching thong beneath. The see-through thong revealed a shaved mound and a fat clit that poked into the delicate fabric.
Her pussy distracted and excited me, and I shot my
gaze down to her bare feet and concentrated on her gold-polished toenails long enough to get my heart rate under control. Stealing another quick glance at her puffy, shaven mound and thick clit, I forced my gaze up to her face, which was partially concealed by a mask. She carried a tray with baby oil and a white hand towel.
“Greetings, sir, my name is Lilliana. Madam wants me to prepare your body.”
“Hi,” I replied, staring at her lush, red Hps. Imagining the things she could do with that mouth, my eyes lingered there for a while, and then journeyed down to the fall breasts that were visible through the sheer fabric. My appreciative gaze drifted to her taut tummy, settled at her crotch again and dwelled hungrily in that area until I was practically drooling. I scanned her firm thighs, which I yearned to part in order to get to the treasure that lay between them. She was one hot-ass servant-girl, and I hoped my dick would act civilized while she appUed oil to my upper body.
“Would you remove your pants, please, sir?” she asked in a shy voice.
“My pants? Uh, look, there must be a misunderstanding. I agreed to work without a shirt, but I wasn’t told that I was expected to be stark naked while I mixed drinks.” I stood up. “You people better hire yourselves another bartender.”
“I understand, sir. Forgive me if I sound forward, but I don’t think Madam intends for you to work in the nude.”
“So, why are you asking me to take off my pants?”
Lilliana’s thick lashes fluttered as she lowered her eyes bashfully. With her eyes downcast, she murmured, “I was told to give you a lower body massage. To relieve any stress you might feel while working in a highly sexual environment.”
Nervously, she nipped at her lower Hp, and then glanced up at me. “Do you want me to relieve you of stress, sir?”
Is she asking if she can suck my dick? I wondered, feeling more aroused than before. Why did I have to decide to go celibate right before taking a job with such tempting fringe benefits? Wanting to be clear of her intentions, I asked, “What do you have in mind?”
“Anything you desire, sir. Fm here to serve you...to fulfill your needs.”
The way she spoke—so soft and shy—^was extremely arousing. And the way she kept referring to me as ‘sir’ was having a tremendous effect on my groin. My dick had awakened the moment she walked in the door, but this current topic of serving me and fulfilling my needs had me breaking out in a cold sweat.
“What would like, sir?”
rd like to fuck, get sucked, lick that sweet-looking cat, and bust a massive nut. But I couldn’t indulge. Fd made up my mind to stop whoring around and I had the strength of will to stick to my guns.
“Would you prefer manual release, sir?” she suggested.
Hmm. A hand job was probably a harmless activity.
Yeah, I could let her jack me off without breaking my vow of celibacy, I convinced myself. “Yeah, that’ll work,” I said, unzipping and lowering my pants.
After I’d stripped out of my clothing, Lilliana set the tray down next to the flower arrangement. She neatly folded my pants and shirt and placed them on the other side of the bouquet of roses. I stepped out of my drawers and before I could pick them up from the floor, she bent down. “Allow me, sir,” she said softly.
At The Dive, I busted my ass for hours, waiting on drunken muthafuckas. This was the life and I could get used to the King’s treatment I was receiving from LiUiana. I watched in fascination as she gently folded my underwear, treating the cotton fabric with reverence, acting as if my drawers were made from spun gold.
My dick responded by lifting up. The swollen head knocked impatiently against my stomach before it lowered itself, standing erect with its lone, weepy eye, focused on slipping past the thin material and filling Lilliana’s luscious pussy.
She treaded toward me and I took a fortifying breath. She squeezed baby oil into her palm. “Would you like to have a seat?” she asked as she took my huge erection into a loose fist. She stroked tentatively, looking at me, waiting for my response.
“Yeah, I’ll have a seat,” I muttered in a husky, lustful voice. With my heart racing a mile a minute and my dick thumping and quivering, I was beginning to feel lightheaded. It was best to sit before I collapsed.
She released her hand as I eased into the chair, and then she daintily lowered herself down to her knees. At eye level with my dick, she moistened her mouth and then bit down on her lip as if to restrain herself from giving me head. Her lubricated hand went into action and a harsh moan escaped my Hps. My breathing was ragged and hoarse.
It was a slow, agonizing burn as her oiled hand stroked me leisurely. Craving release, I panted as I sped up the tempo, urging her to work faster, prodding her to keep up with my pace.
“Yeah, that’s right,” I groaned, my face scrunched in a grimace. My balls tightened and my whole body buzzed with energy. That tingling sensation was the familiar precursor to busting a load. I groaned as she picked up speed. Her oiled, fisted hand sheathed my dick like a warm pussy, and I began to murmur incoherently.
Sensing that I was about to explode, Lilliana offered, “Feel free to use my mouth or pussy as a cum receptacle.”
“Damn!” I bellowed and humped her hand even faster. Had she really asked if wanted to used her mouth or pussy as a cum receptacle? Fuck, yeah! I wanted to cum inside her mouth and her pussy. I wanted to squirt half my load in her mouth and then deposit the rest of it inside her plump, hairless pussy. It was fucked up that I had chosen to torture myself with abstinence. Well, it was a type of self-restraint. Letting her jack me off was sort of like a vegetarian that occasionally ate fish or poultry.
“Madam wants you to use me as your personal cum- slut tonight,” she whispered.
Oh, goddamn! Lilliana had taken dirty talk to the next level, and I couldn’t take any more. I gripped her by her shoulders and with my face contorted Uke a crazed beast, I growled as I shot the biggest load ever. Hot cum splashed into her palm and dribbled over her hand. She held onto my erection until I’d shot out the last drop of cum.
She cleaned my dick with the warm, white towel on the tray, oiled my chest, arms, and back, and then held out my drawers, followed by my pants, inviting me to step into them.
I could get used to being catered to like this. Having a servant girl waiting for me after a hard night at the bar would brighten my life.