Now, we were chatting at the bar of the compound, which was done up like a luxurious tiki lounge. Gentle flames flickered in tea lights, and the long mahogany bar sparkled as we were served colorful drinks with paper umbrellas sticking out of them.
“Thank you, honey,” growled Evan as our waitress placed our cocktails on the table. She nodded and flushed a bit, leaning over low. At that moment, her breasts were bare and golden with caramel-tipped nipples that swung delightfully. Of course, Brett used that moment to caress a hard nipple, pulling it gently as she squealed.
“You look gorgeous, sweetheart,” he growled as she straightened and blushed. “What’s your name again?”
“Mirabel,” she whispers shyly. “I’m happy to serve,” she says before turning and mincing away, her hips swinging in her tiny skirt with the drink tray tucked under one arm.
“Man, I love this place,” Brett groans as he watches her leave. She stops at the bar and turns, flipping a lock of chestnut hair over one slim shoulder before smiling at him. He literally growls.
“Yeah, it’s good stuff,” agrees Evan, taking a sip of his drink. “This place rocks. I love how our servers wear nothing but tiny skirts and high heels. Who knew? Topless is definitely the way to go.”
I grunt, looking out over the sunset. It’s true. The Billionaires Club requires its female staff to go topless at all times, and as a result, we were fully dressed men surrounded by bevies of beautiful, bare and willing women. Even the ladies who worked at the gym or in the sauna were topless at all times. In fact, some of them were even bottomless upon request, and happy to climb on your pole with only a little bit of coaxing.
But at the moment, I could only think about Ava, and how gorgeous she looked this afternoon on her hands and knees with her pussy crammed full and her breasts swinging as she moaned lustily. My girl has what it takes and I couldn’t wait to take her for a spin.
But then Brett interrupts my thoughts, spoiling the gorgeous view of the sunset. The reds, pinks and yellows were ruined when he inserted his ugly mien into my field of vision. Okay, so he’s actually a good-looking guy with blonde hair, a deep tan, and strong, patrician features. But still, nothing compares to the glorious rays of the setting sun, except maybe Ava’s sweet smile.
“I want to propose a challenge,” he leers.
I lift an eyebrow.
“Oh really?” I drawl. “What kind of a challenge?”
He shrugs while sipping at his drink.
“A fun one. You know, to liven things up around here.”
Evan squints at Brett.
“Yo, my man, we just got a delivery of girls. What kind of challenge do you need? We have our hands full with an armful of fillies. I mean, you literally were just deposited three beautiful triplets. Why would you need a challenge now?”
He shrugs.
“I don’t know. I get bored easily I guess. So what do you guys say? You up for it?”
My friend is being ridiculous as he leans back with one strong arm on the back of the sofa, a blonde eyebrow quirked. Brett is acting like he’s the king of the world, but I know something’s gotten him ticking. His finger taps the rattan frame of the couch impatiently, even as he tries to look as cool as a cucumber.
“Sure, I’ll bite,” I say smoothly. “What did you have in mind?”
He winks.
“A depths test.”
I roll my eyes.
“Okay yeah. And what is that? Or am I supposed to figure it out using my psychic abilities?”
He merely shrugs and shoots me a shit-eating grin.
“A depths test for women,” he continues smoothly. “You know, to see how deep they are.”
Evan and I stare at him. Evan speaks first.
“I’m sorry to break it to you my man, but do you mean the girls that we just imported today? Because I can assure you that your triplets are not going to fare well on any sort of profound depths test thing. In fact, I doubt they even know what the word “profound” means.”
“Yeah,” I add sardonically. “Didn’t you say their names were Mandy, Candy and Tandy? I’m no genius but girls with names like that don’t usually do well on any type of IQ test, much less any type of “depths” test.”
Evan sits up, stretching languorously, although I know it’s all an act.
“First of all, you guys are prejudiced motherfuckers, you know that? You’ve never met Mandy, Tandy, and Candy, so how would you know how smart they are? Besides, those are just their names. Maybe they had grandmas named Mandy, Tandy and Candy, and their parents gave them those names to honor their ancestors. You’re so swayed by something that’s out of their control. I mean, did you pick the name Carver for yourself? How would you like it if everyone thought you were a butcher because of your name?”