The LED sign in the main parking area at Oakmore Valley Resort read "Oakmore Welcomes the Regional Broadcasters Conference."
The convention had already been in full swing when Tom Jacobs had arrived this morning. Nearly overwhelmed by the logistics of jumping into his new job with so little preparation, he was relieved to find that Amber Harvey, the resort's events coordinator, had everything well in hand.
Tom was surprised that at just twenty-three years of age Amber was able to execute the responsibilities of that job with such confidence and efficiency. On a personal level, he was delighted that she was also a knock-out: tall and slender with long, shapely legs and silky auburn hair which tumbled down past her shoulders.
"Are you finding everything you need, Mister Jacobs?" Tom looked up from his desktop monitor to see Amber standing in the doorway of what now was his office.
"It's a lot to take in all at once," Tom replied. "I'd have liked to have had some kind of hand-off from Stewart. You'd think the man was running late for a space launch or something."
"Let me have a look?" Amber walked around to Tom's side of the desk and tilted the monitor up slightly for a better look. "Oh, the website," she sniffed. "Corporate manages that. It's very, uh, corporate."
"Generically charming," Tom agreed. "Nice golf course, picturesque bungalows, swans on the lake."
"The swans are 'shopped."
"I guessed. So...Oakmore's a pleasant place, but nothing here accounts for our level of bookings. And if I can't figure out where the magic lives, you're not going to have time to get used to having me around."
"That
would
be a shame," Amber murmured. She regarded Tom quizzically as if sizing him up. He couldn't tell whether her interest at that moment was more professional or personal but found that he didn't mind either way.
"Oakmore's most effective marketing is what you'd call 'word of mouth,'" she began cautiously. As she leaned across to grab the computer mouse her right breast brushed lightly against his cheek and he discovered that she wore nothing under her white jersey knit stop. "We're secluded. We're discreet. And the employees and staff are ready to serve our guests' every need and desire."
With two mouse clicks, Amber brought up a grid view of the main hotel's security cameras. She gave Tom another questioning look and said, "Don't freak out, okay?"
Another click, and a single camera feed filled the computer screen. It was captioned "CM001: Regency Ballroom B."
The partitioned ballroom was set up for a large luncheon, but the event in progress looked more like an orgy in full swing. Tom's first impression was of a lot of bare breasts and dicks hanging out. People were seated at tables or milling about in various states of nudity. Near the camera, one naked man was chatting with a woman who wore nothing but a blouse open to her navel and a short red skirt. His free hand was up under her skirt, feeling her ass, while she smiled and fondled his cock in return.
At a nearby table a pretty blonde was seated on the lap of a buxom redhead, their bare breasts rubbing against one another's as they kissed. At the next, a leggy young brunette in a charcoal grey suit was knee-riding a middle-aged executive type. His pants were around his ankles and she was jacking on his hard prick with both hands. Kneeling on the floor next to them was a woman who looked like her twin, rocking back and forth while the executive explored her bare cunt with a thick middle finger. Judging by the beatific expression on her face, he was good at what he was going.
"It's the pre-awards luncheon," Amber explained. "According to the schedule, they're holding the final vote for 'Female Newscaster of the Year' later this afternoon. Looks like there's still a lot of campaigning going on."
Tom just nodded mutely. He watched in fascination as dozens of couples fucked and sucked like mad in the ballroom: in chairs, on the floor, and on big round folding tables that had been swept clean of any utensils and food.
Amber quietly perched on the arm of Tom's leather executive chair, leaning against her new boss and keenly watching his reaction. "Let's get a better view," she suggested, touching a function key on his computer. The camera feed was instantly mirrored on the big-screen television mounted on the wall opposite his desk.
It was too much to take in all at once. Tom focused for a few moments on a smiling woman lying in a clear area of the brocaded carpet while three men surrounded her, jerking off until they showered her with cum from her toes to the mane of black curls framing her face.
A short, thirty-something brunette danced naked on a raised speaker's platform at the front of the room, doing high kicks like a showgirl, displaying her big tits and pussy to the appreciative crowd. Her audience applauded and shouted encouragement.
"I know that face," Tom exclaimed. "That's Mikaela Ruiz. The GCTV network anchor."
"She's the keynote speaker, and one of this year's organizers, too." Amber explained, her cheeks reddening as she added: "I worked closely with her on all the arrangements."
A man stepped out of the crowd and onto the platform with Ruiz. She looked him up and down frankly, a toothy grin splitting her face as her eyes lit on his erect cock. She sank to her knees, beckoning him forward.
Another man joined them, then another. Soon the most well-known newswoman in America was surrounded by half a dozen male colleagues, some as famous as herself but several that Tom didn't recognize. These were older men, probably network higher-ups. Mikaela Ruiz showed no favoritism, demonstrating that she regarded any hard cock as worthy of her most devoted oral attentions, as she sucked them each in turn.
What have I gotten myself into?
Tom marveled, as the full import of it all sank in:
I'm the manager of a sex resort.
He was shaken from his reverie by Amber's hand gently stroking his erection through the fabric of his trousers.
"Milt usually liked me to take care of him while he reviewed the feeds," Amber explained nonchalantly. "Do you want me to stop?"
