Fickle Fantasies
By Marilyn Douglas
Date: January 25, 2021
Ch. 1Helping Housewives

The memory of it all would be forever etched in his mind. The message she sent was short and direct, carrying all the details of the job she needed done. Sheila would be Ashton’s first client and the groups second. She was referred by a friend, she claimed. News of a good service travelled quickly it seemed. Nervousness was a new feeling for Ashton. Often accused of being too cocky, he found himself having to employ every meditation technique tonight to return to his former arrogant self. Finally, a few shots of vodka later, his macho meter rose to the right levels and he was ready for the job at hand.

Looking around at the tiny dorm room on the campus of Mission Tech, Ashton considered not the extensive amount of work lying on the cluttered miniature desk, but the test at hand. A passing grade would not only mean financial comfort for a little while, but the peace of mind in knowing he could give a woman what she wanted- this was the ultimate test.

Walking down the stairs to the lobby of the building, he wondered if people knew what he was about to do, with his peacock chest pushed forward as far as possible, Ashton decided that if they did, it would be another feather in his cap. Amanda, a freshman who wore the ugliest sweaters even when it was sweltering, shouted his name as he appeared in the thresh hold of the old stone building. “Ashton!” She yelled while waving her hand frantically above her head. People glanced around when no equally enthusiastic response was given. A nod of his head would be all she would get today. It’s not that she was less than him in life; it’s just that he better than her.

Sometimes he marveled at himself- six foot two, sun tanned skin, wavy blonde hair and hazel eyes. Ashton’s gene pool was a regal one and he thanked his parents for it every day. If only he was rich… that would put the topping on the cake nicely. Standing on the corner of the driveway, taking in the sights and sounds of college night life, Ashton breathed in the cool, crisp air and exhaled any doubt in his mind that he was indeed doing the right thing.

Geeks studied in the middle of the lit garden, while those who took college for a joke dogged the campus security in fear they would smell the joints they concealed in the palms of their hand. Lovers/friends with benefits strolled hand in hand while the less popular girls like Amanda looked on in envy.

The large clock on top the main hall chimed, signaling eight o’clock. Where the hell was Jason? As usual, he arrived at top speed, screeching down the driveway and jerking to a violent halt in his red pickup truck. The guy was more suited for NASSCAR than college. After the cloud of dust settled and the car became visible again, he said, “Come on your highness… don’t wanna be late for the ball now do we?” Get the fuck in man.”

Sauntering from his place of retreat, Ashton made sure no remnants of the dust cloud landed on his laundry pressed Oxford shirt or his starched khakis. Jason would never understand his obsession with image- rough and tumble was more his style. Before Ashton’s ass could hit the seat, Jason stepped on the accelerator and the pair drove off into a new dust cloud.

Jason and Ashton sat in the car park opposite Oceana, the newest club to open on the strip. Model type women poured in and out of the entrance while men and women not passing the fashion or beauty mark were left standing in a long queue waiting for acceptance or permanent rejection.

One would have never guessed this was the home of a night club. Seemingly hole- in- the- wall, it attracted many types- from those pretending to be elite to the real powerhouses with green energy in their pockets. Green was all that mattered, paper bought power and prestige, it was the primary reason the two friends were going over the strategy.

“Now remember the instructions,” Jason insisted, “She wants to feel like all the attention is on her and her alone. Be pushy and flirtatious… lay it on thick. Kevin and Jay and I are counting on you to make a lasting impression. We need your best performance Ashton… we like the word of mouth advertising.”

Ashton glared at one of his best pals. From the first day of their human psyche class, he realized they both had a mindset of control. Two others, Kevin and Jay were diagnosed jokingly by the lecturer as the sneaky silent type. Somehow the pair of control freaks and the pair of silent killers became fast friends-an unlikely quartet.

Now in their senior year, the pressure to find that all so important job attachment pressed hard. Faced with the reality of student loans, housing and living expenses, the realities of adulthood stared them squarely in the face. The tills were low, but the expense of adulthood wouldn’t be delayed by their inexperience. They needed a plan.

The idea was Ashton’s really; it hit him like a lightning bolt one day as a group of boys teased a passing bevy of beauties and their not so beautiful friend. Ashton had seen her around and knew full well that even though she wasn’t attractive, she was from a rich family. As the girls passed, the guys spewed vulgar cat calls and grabbed their crotches. The loudest guy in the group issued a challenge to one of his companions, “Hey Andre, how about you screw the one at the back there, maybe if you kiss her, she’ll transform into a beautiful swan cause God knows she’s an ugly duckling right now!”

They laughed and chuckled as their leader floated around on tippy toes, flapping his wings like an elegant bird. The girl glanced their direction with the slightest tinge of pain in her eyes- she was cold otherwise and seemed accustomed to being told she wasn’t attractive. Ashton could see it hurt anyway.

Women like her still needed to be loved and kissed. Who screwed them at night he wondered. Maybe they paid someone his mind responded. Would women really pay a man to screw them he thought? The idea of money and sex all rolled into one made his cock stiffen in his pants, he took that as a sign he was on to something big. That night, at their weekly poker game he raised the subject.

At first, a usually silent Jay all but fell off his chair laughing, while Kevin stared blankly in disbelief. Jason jumped off his chair and paced the room.

When all present had regained composure, Ashton asked, “So guys… is it possible?” The discussion continued well into the night, batting questions of ethics and legality back and forth until eventually they decided to can it. So much for thinking outside the box, muttered Ashton to himself as he lay in bed later. The words on the plaque his father had given him read, “Carpe Diem” and closing his eyes sleepily he said, ‘screw you philosophers.’

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