Excess 4

It took every ounce of Michael Langdon's self-control to keep from moaning loudly as the voice from the other end of his phone droned on. Occasionally he uttered what he hoped was an appropriate response. "What? No... No, Payton, I'm just clearing my head."

Clutching the cold rectangle in one hand, the other had a firm grip on the small head of one of the two girls between his legs. He pulled on her tangle of soft hair to guide her throat further down his cock. The wet, warmth tightened in a heaven grip. Those lips created an even tighter seal when she gagged around him. Meanwhile, the other girl's silky tongue worked wonders on his scrotum.

"Fuck..." He bit his upper lip with his toes gripping the rough carpet. Somehow, he kept his voice calm and even. "Why would I be mad at you, Payton?... No... All good... Yeah, well, Steve Jobs got booted from Apple back in the day -- mmm, uh... What?... Oh, just background noise... No need. I might drop by Chris's or Gabe's... What? Sure, babe.... Uh-huh... Yup... You too."

He remembered to hit the red, hang-up button before the phone slipped from his hand and landed with a dull thud. Then he stretched his naked, muscled body to sink further into the soft leather armchair.

Eyes squeezed shut, he gave himself over to the waves of warm, tingling, sensations. At six foot three, Michael was already a large man, but the way these two worshiped him made him feel ten feet tall.

From behind his closed eyes, he could see flashes of lights. But those flashes brought back memories of the red rubies on his mother's neck. He squeezed his eyes even tighter to shut them out. He couldn't drown out sounds of thundering bass, honking car horns, and celebratory shouts wafting through the open balcony door to fill the hotel room. It sounded like a celebration of his demise. That and the music from the blaring TV all created their own off-beat symphony in time to the moans and sighs coming from the girls at his feet.

"Fuck!" He sucked in air through his teeth.

Yet, his mind slipped back to earlier in the day... To a large boardroom table full of faces looking back at him with a mixture of emotions... Some with barely contained triumph. Some wracked with guilt. No! Stop! He forced aside the memories of this monumentally shitty day. Nothing mattered except for what these girls were doing to him.

The girl working his cock impressed him with how well she handled his length and girth, even when she choked. But eventually she fell back, to control her gagging as she heaved for air. Her friend saw that as an opportunity to take over. But the first girl, undeterred, she adjusted the devil horn headband on her head and brushed aside her sweat-drenched hair was simply too fast. She slid the length of his cock across her face before popping the head back into her mouth. Her friend made a disappointed grunt. That little sound tickled Michael. He pulled the other girl, the loser, into his lap and cupped an ample breast. Soft. And smelled of fruity perfume and sweat. He latched onto the small pink nipple and suckled. That was enough to push out the images in his head.

The first girl slid a hand over a thick thigh. Fingers tangled in the hairs there. Siren-like eyes begged silently for his approval. He reached down to stroke her curls and took his lips from that breast to tell her, "Good girl."

"You're so hot!" the girl in his arms slurred with her glassy eyes fixed on him. "Are you, like, an actor or model or something?"

Michael chuckled then kissed her.

Such a pretty smile. Such a pretty girl. They were all so pretty. He leaned forward, away from the girl still clinging to his neck, and the girl on the floor rose on her knees to meet him. He gave her a tender, almost chaste kiss, before grabbing a handful of her hair to force her back on his cock again. The other hand was still caressing the girl in his lap.

Few experiences in the world could top being in the arms of two girls -- well, perhaps, three. He chuckled quietly as he imagined behind his closed eyes another girl appearing at that moment. But even with that image, he felt his interest waning. Those memories of earlier that day were forcing their way back.

Fuck.

Michael's free hand slipped off the armrest. Fingers grazed glass. He grabbed it without thinking and took a drink. Meanwhile, the girl between his legs continued to suck. The one draped over his chest continued to nibble at his neck and throat. But he was no longer focused on either of them. Liquid fire didn't burn quite as much, but it did its job of keeping those invasive thoughts away. Ah, yes! This will erase every moment from the past twenty-four hours.

Suddenly there was a series of loud knocking on the door.

"Finally!" The girl jumped up from his lap and danced, still naked, toward the door. "How long does it take to make a fucking sandwich?"

He glanced pointedly at a picked-over room service cart over the head still bobbing in his lap. "Longer than it look for me to cum," he muttered, annoyed. Then his attention returned to the girl working hard to get him there. She had both hands working his shaft now, doing her best to get him to the finish. He rubbed at his brow ridge. But the moment was ruined.

"Hey!" he heard the girl at the door, shout.

There was a rush behind him.

Then.

Thwack!

Something padded but hard hit him across the back of his head. He bolted out of the chair. His long legs tripped over the girl still kneeling between his thighs. As he caught himself, he was struck between the shoulder blades.

"You PIECE OF SHIT!!!" an all too familiar voice roared. For a moment, Michael thought that voice was coming from his phone again. It took his whiskey-addled mind another moment to realize the voice was coming from behind him. Well, this was not what he had in mind when he wished for a third girl.

Instinctively, Michael ducked the clutch bag thrown at his head. He came face to face with a tall, willowy woman clad in a shimmering, skin-tight black cocktail dress. "Payton!"

Her short black hair was slicked back from her beautiful, but furious face. Eyes flashing, she grabbed a nearby lamp and swung it in his direction in a wide arch. The lamp flew out of her grasp and landed on the carpet with a dull thud, casting long shadows upwards.

"How did you find me --?"

Michael didn't finish his thought before he dropped his head and laughed at his own stupidity. He had to hold onto something as the whole world seemed to be rocking back and forth, and that too tickled him. In fact, he couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the entire scene. The hotel room looked like a war zone. In the middle, there he was, naked, with his cock still semi-hard. Meanwhile, the naked girl, with her red devil horns slipped over her forehead, quickly crawled out of the way.

"We didn't know he was married!" the girl cried as she scooped up her discarded things.

"Married?" Payton ripped the ring off her left finger and flung it at Michael. It bounced off a surface with a clatter. "You think I would marry this lying sack of shit?!"

The girl, clutching her clothing and purse to her bare chest, dashed for the door. No doubt, her friend was already gone. The heavy door slammed. That just left Michael with a furious Payton, who rummaged through the messy room service trolley for more things to throw at him.

He ducked a mustard jar flying toward his head. Then a slice of cold cheese pizza grazed his shoulder. There was nothing more sobering than being smacked by cold cheese and sauce. That, and an angry woman out for blood. "Now, sweetheart! Calm down! Let's talk."

"You calm down!" Payton fired back, stamping her foot. "Are you going to tell me not to believe my lying eyes? That this isn't what it looks like? You lying piece of shit!"

He batted away a pepper shaker, then shook his smarting hand. "Really? You're going to play the wronged party now?"

"You're a hateful liar!!" The lamp light on the floor cast everything in long, deep shadows, making her look crazed.

Michael bolted forward before she could find more things to throw at her and caught her flailing fists. Payton was a tall woman, but he was much larger and all muscles. He easily trapped her wrists behind her back with one strong hand and caught her chin with the other.

She let out a frustrated shriek as she tried but failed to shake him off. He forced her to face him. Her rage melted into an aching, searching look when her eyes met his. With a frustrated cry, she slumped, sobbing, against his broad chest.

"After everything I've done-- put up with for us! " she choked between sobs.

"Us?" Michael's large blue eyes narrowed and spittle flew from his lips as he bore down on her, forcing her head to arch back. "You want to talk about lying when you sold me out to people who hate me. I have to admire your balls, Payton. What did my mom and uncle promise you, huh? Now, just make sure you don't let him foist you off with pittance. Make sure you get some real dollars for those services rendered because it's worth more than a few shekels."

"They're not your enemy!" she continued to sob, making Michael's left eye twitch. "What you were doing would have destroyed the company. Diluting the shares just so you can try to take--"

"Shhh!" He pinched her lips shut, then cupped her small face between his large hands tenderly. "You don't need to explain. This is just the way this game is played. Now go pick up your ring. Ambitious girl like you. How can you pass up an opportunity to marry into my family? Think of all the work you put in up to this point. Unless I'm no longer the prize."

He bent her back in his arms to plan a harsh kiss on her salty, panting lips. He could feel her trembling body respond as his tongue coaxed hers. Just as Payton's resolve wavered, he lifted the back of her dress and grabbed a handful of her small, toned ass. A surge of energy coursed through her, and she pushed him away with such force, that he stumbled back.

"This isn't a game!" she shouted.

"Isn't it!" He sneered. But the effort made him sway on his unsteady feet. He clung to her tighter for no other reason than to steady himself. "I'd say we're about even, sweetheart. Just be glad I went out for some tail. I could have fucked your sister."

"You--!" she cried out, then sputtered while looking around wildly for things to throw at him. "Get out! GET THE FUCK OUT!" Payton picked up the whiskey bottle from the floor.

Sobering a bit, he hopped over an ottoman for the door before he could find out what she intended to do with that bottle. A second after the heavy door slammed shut, he heard the sound of glass shattering.

"Alright, I'll give you a moment to calm down!" he called out, trying his best not to laugh again.

No reply.

Then It hit him. Whiskey and fatigue knocked him back against a wall. It took him a second to clear away the dizziness and nausea. And with clarity came the realization that he was stark naked in an empty hotel hallway.

Shit!

His head swimming, he lost his balance. The back of his heavy head knocked against a wall, and Michael couldn't hold back the laughter bubbling up inside him any longer. The whole situation was ridiculous!

Down the hall a door opened, and a group in the local college jersey, wearing rubber animal masks, dashed out. Hooting and hollering, they ran down the hall and disappeared in the opposite direction, oblivious to the drunk, naked man. By now, the two girls were nowhere to be seen, but their floral scent lingered on his skin.

With a groan, he pushed his tired body away from the wall for the door handle to his room. "Payton?" He jiggled the handle. Locked. "Babe! Open up!"

Silence.

He jiggled the handle again and thought about ripping the door from its hinges. "Oh, come on! Can you at least toss me my clothes?"

"Fuck off!" came the muffled response.

"At least let me get my phone?" He pounded on the door with a balled-up fist. "Open the fucking door, Payton!"

A minute went by.

Two.

A door down the hall opened to the sound of music over the noise of a party. He looked up to see a few snickering faces point and laugh at him. Then they dashed off again. The sound of a door slam echoed down the hall. He shook his head to clear away a sudden wave of dizziness. His eyes started to droop, and he thought about sinking down onto the floor and closing his burning eyes for a bit. An indeterminate amount of time later, his head jerked up. Did he fall asleep? Where the hell was he? Ah, yes! Still in this shitty hotel. Still naked.

He mulled his predicament. At least, no one he knew would ever come to a place like this. Fuck it! He should go down to the reception desk to get another room. Sleep it off... But then this wasn't one of his usual places where the concierge knew him on sight. Here they wanted identification and a credit card. If he went down with nothing but his dick in his hand, he might end up with a bed in the local jail.

Then...

Something made Michael look to his left. To his tired, blurry eyes, the dimly lit long empty hallway, with its pea-colored walls, seemed to tilt to one side. And standing at the very end of it was a lone figure. There was nothing extraordinary about the man. He was on the small side, in fact, with thinning hair. On this Halloween night full of costumes and revelry, the man's plain dark jacket and dark pants seemed out of place. His face was hard to see, but he seemed familiar somehow. Michael had been in his share of fights, and he didn't scare easily. Yet, something about the unnerving way the man looked at Michael made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"Payton!" He returned to pounding furiously on his hotel room door.

Silence except for the faint sound of music from one of those rooms down the hall. And the man at the end of the hall hadn't budged.

Irritated, Michael Langdon planted himself in the middle of the hallway to face the other man. He balled his fists, and squared his broad shoulders. Despite his nakedness, or perhaps because of it, he felt ready for anything.

"You want some of this?" He grabbed at his cock. "Well, you're going to get my fist first!"

The other man, held up a hand to calm him, then seemed to melt away.

When Michael unclenched his fists, he realized he was covered in cold sweat. He shook his head, confused. Not like him to be frightened like this. Perhaps he was more drunk than he thought. Just then he noticed an alcove in the wall that housed a single potted tree that was as tall as he was. He plopped himself down next to it and closed his eyes. Listless, he wondered just how the hell he reached this point.

How on earth did he get here...?

...Ah, yes, his mother's Halloween party. Only this party felt more like her triumph over Michael's abject humiliation earlier that day...

He remembered the suffocating crush of bodies, all vying to tell him how sorry they were. Better luck next time... In a few years maybe... Their fake sympathy revolted Michael to the point he had to flee. So he found a car and took off into the night.

He drove aimlessly and ended up on the freeway in a long line of bumper-to-bumper traffic. The local college team was playing their biggest rival that Halloween night. He had been listening to the game in the car and felt drawn to the cheering college kids. He can't remember how he met the two girls, but one promised she could suck a golf ball from a garden hose. Her friend had condoms. This hotel happened to be close by. Not his finest moment, nor was it his worst. Only, how on earth did Payton find him? Did she place a tracker on him?

A woman's sharp gasp snapped him out of his daze. He peeked around the fake tree, half expecting to see the man in the dark jacket again.

First, he saw a pair of women's small white tennis shoes. His gaze made a slow journey up a pair of long, shapely legs in form-fitting yoga pants. The oversized collegiate jersey, with the local college name embossed on the front, couldn't hide those shapely breasts. Then, he reached the girl's face.

Michael almost gasped out loud. His drunk, blurry eyes made the girl seem as if she had a halo around her.

"Are you real?" he asked the girl. He let out a peal of drunken laughter.

He could see her better now. She couldn't be more than twenty years old. However, the spider web around the corners of her large doe eyes, and her limp brown hair cut with heavy bangs, made her seem much younger. Her skin and full lips had a youthful suppleness and glow to it. But it was those startling eyes beneath dramatic brows that drew him into their spell. In that low light, her translucent beauty could make a grown man cry. No surprise that his reaction to her was immediate.

"Is this what love feels like?" he muttered.