“Where the fuck is she?” Max growled under her breath, making a circuit of the party once again. Not that it was a party anymore. Most of the guests had split off, some going to a new burger joint, others going to buy weed from a new dealer who was supposed to be particularly cheap, many others going to watch Chronicles of Riddick at some guy’s home theater. That last one had actually tempted Max, but she was just feminist enough not to abandon Caroline with a bunch of strangers at a party. Not that she could say the same for Caroline.

The only people left at this point, close to midnight, were those that had passed out, drunken themselves into a stupor, or maybe succumbed to some wasting disease. Max thought she might be the only one actually conscious in the whole place. She was tempted to rip something off. That would probably get her in trouble with Caroline. Though she was caring less and less what Caroline thought, since the B had faded on her, leaving her to hawk cupcakes to a parade of customers who clearly just wanted to leer at her. Yeah, maybe the Black Cat costume was a bad choice. She should’ve dressed as something less sexy, like a nun. Scratch that, like a Muslim.

Bored as much as she was aggravated, Max decided she might as well take advantage of the party being dead and use the bathroom without a line. The place had two: one had been designated the girls’ room and the other the boys’ room. Max used the girls’ room, even though she worried that just meant some guy didn’t want to fast-forward through his webcam feed.

She relieved herself–not easy in a catsuit–adjusted her costume back to sterling perfection, then emerged back into the world, hands soaped and scrubbed, to see Brad helping himself to some punch.

At lightspeed, Max gave herself a once-over: propping up her breasts, straightening her hair, cocking her hips. She usually wasn’t that sentimental about guys she’d blown; the reason she wasn’t wearing a mask was because he’d covered it with cum, after all. And, anyway, she was pissed at him! He’d stolen Caroline, her Caroline.

Max made herself forget how she’d readied herself for Brad in order to stomp over to him, brimming with righteous indignation. “Hey, dickless, where’ve you been? And where’d you take Caroline?”

“Caroline? We went to talk shop. I thought she mentioned it to you; weren’t you listening?”

You had your dick in my mouth, not my ear, Max thought, but didn’t say–bringing up that she’d given him a suckjob wasn’t really much of a ‘gotcha’. “Yeah, I know she went off with you, guy, where is she now? It doesn’t take an hour to talk shop.”

Brad smiled at her as he sipped his drink. “Are you sure? Maybe you’re just not much of a businesswoman.”

Max’s eyebrows quirked. What was that weird emphasis he put on the word ‘businesswoman’? Was he calling her a whore? Max had some experience with being called a whore–usually by other women, though. Maybe that she was why she didn’t get the impression he was being negative, exactly, but…

Brad picked up another Solo cup and filled it from the punch bowl. Seeing it, Max remembered what she’d done with all the cum he’d volleyed into her mouth. Was he implying he’d taken an hour to fuck Caroline, after how Max had emptied him out?

Even Caroline couldn’t take that long to get talked into bed, or couch or whatever… no, bed, it would definitely take even longer to convince Caroline to get fucked against a wall or on a carpet. Not that she knew what it was like to have rug burns on her Ass. Not that she had much of an Ass—

Then again, Max well knew that there were ways to fuck that didn’t take a dick. She’d been living with Caroline long enough for quite a few to come to mind, even if she’d never let Caroline get an even more swollen head by actually… and she was so clingy. Maybe she and Brad had eaten up the hour by cuddling after it was done. Caroline seemed like the type that was a big cuddler. Hell, Max knew for a fact how much she liked to cuddle, after all the times they’d had one or both beds out of commission, only one couch or only one bathtub or only one Max, that one time, with Caroline having to point out how soft and comfortable Max was to lie on.

Nothing had happened.

“I’m sensing some tension,” Brad said, jolting Max out of her thoughts of how much nothing had happened by handing her the fresh cup of punch. Yeah, dude, thanks, I was standing right next to it myself… fucking gentleman thoughtfulness motherfucker… “Which is weird, considering we got off to such a good start. But I understand you’re stressed. Let’s try to push past it, though, yeah? After all, we’re going to be working together.”

“I’m not sure Caroline letting you use her oven counts as working together.”

Brad sipped his drink again, enjoying it, looking expectantly at how Max’s cup lolled in her hand. Yeah, I bet you’re thirsty, nothing to drink for an hour but Caroline’s… “Actually, Caroline and I discussed my buying shares in your company. In exchange for a sizable cut of the profits, I’ll be investing heavily in your profits.” He looked around. “Caroline wanted to discuss it with you first, naturally, but I guess she’s run off somewhere. Well, you might as well hear it from her as me.”

“You’re going to buy us out?” Max asked, not sure whether to feel relieved or intimidated. She was dubious about how much Caroline-time Brad had already gotten… not to mention it didn’t speak well of him that he’d gotten a Blowjob from her, given the kind of guys she usually sucked off… but on the other hand: money.

“If you agree to it,” Brad reminded her. “No one’s signed anything yet.”

Max crossed her arms, trying to put herself at a cool remove–which was spoiled by her spilling a little of the punch in her hand onto her elbow. “And just what did Caroline talk you into?”

He told her. Max took a big drink of punch. She was going to be on a billboard. She was going to be a video in Times fucking Square. And I thought I got a lot of comments on my boobs being big now…

And “Holy shit, you really were talking shop with her,” she realized.

Brad smiled at her insinuatingly–“Max, were you jealous?”

Max kinda wanted to punch him, but she wanted to punch people a lot. Maybe she’d been a redhead in a past life. “Don’t flatter yourself, cowboy, I just thought you and Caroline were… and I was worried about her… and I thought maybe she’d ditched me at this party we went to together…”

She mumbled the last as she moved to take another drink from her Solo cup, but it was empty. She thrust it out at Brad.

“Get me a refill, pretty boy.”

Good-humoredly, Brad took the cup from her and filled it from the punch bowl. “I started off as ‘dickless’. Now I’m a pretty boy and a cowboy. We’re working well together already.”

Max took the cup back from him abashedly. “Yeah, but you know I didn’t mean that.” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “I know you have a dick.”

Brad took a drink as a ‘no comment’. “You have your phone on you? Why don’t you text Max? She’s probably surfaced by now.”

“My phone died. Why do you think I’ve been so pissy?”

“Here, I’ll show you where the charger is.”

He led her through the clearing toke smoke to a couch that wasn’t seeing any unconsciousness. He sat down, plucked a charging cable from between the couch and the wall, and Max sat down with him to plug in her phone. She sipped her drink while it hummed its way back to life, displaying that irritating lightning bolt that said just because it was plugged it, didn’t mean it had enough juice to do anything.

Then again, Max felt the same way sometimes.

“I can understand your frustration,” Brad said out of the blue.

“Your charging cable was gnawed on by a rat, so even when you plug it in, it’s a crapshoot whether or not it’ll be charged the next morning?”

“No, but–“

“And also your phone is seven years old and it runs out of juice in, like, the time it takes to watch a Marvel movie?”

“That, and–“

“Only all Marvel movies are three hours long now, even though they’re about fucking superheroes, and your phone only lasts an hour and forty-five minutes, tops?”

Brad remained silent.

“I think it’s dumb that we don’t have a better way to say ‘forty-five minutes,'” Max continued. “We have ‘half an hour’–what’s half an hour? Tiny Toons? You watch The X-Files, it’s forty-five minutes. Unless you’re some poor schlub watching TV live, and even I’m not that poor.”

“Maybe that’s what an X-File is,” Brad suggested. “Forty-five minutes.”

“It’s as good an explanation as any,” Max said, exasperated by it all. “Okay, I was a little rude there. Talking over you. It’s how I show affection.”

“You show affection?” Brad quipped.

“Oh, no, that was you,” Max said with highly mimed realization. “You showed affection all the way down to my tonsils.”

“And then you thought I was with Caroline. It upset you.”

“Pfft,” Max said eloquently. “I don’t get pissed at my girl for getting some. You’ve got a good dick. If Caroline went to town on it, good for her. She deserves it.”

“She does,” Brad agreed. “But it’s not like you’re undeserving.”

“Look at what I’m wearing. I know I’m not undeserving.” But Max took a long pull at her drink and wished it was something stronger. Who brought actual punch to a party? They were adults. Where were the Tom Collins and shit?

“Still, Caroline is so pretty, so sophisticated. I imagine she gets a lot of attention.”

“You’re the one who just spent an hour with her,” Max pointed out.

“Well, I can’t be in two places at once. But I’d hate for you to feel unattended. That wouldn’t be a very well-hosted party.”

“This isn’t your party.”

“I’m a friend of the host’s. Practicing good etiquette.”

Max wasn’t so shell-shocked by all that was happening–a corporate buy-out and Caroline possibly having a new boytoy–not to know when she was being bamboozified. “If you’re angling for another blowie, you should know I’m trying to cut back.”

“I’m just saying that it must be hard to be in Caroline’s shadow.”

Max laughed. “Okay, maybe it’s just that you haven’t seen her in a while without the cape, but she’s not the shadow type. Trust me, I attract pretty–plenty of attention.”

“But there’s attention and then there’s attention.”

“Man, you are laying some line on me!” Max purred. “What, you think that just because some… teenage Wall Street bro has a thing for Caroline, that it doesn’t matter that I have all kinds of losers and perverts out to fondle my enormous breasts? People whistle at me on the streets, you know! Little kids, they fantasize about me! Yeah, that’s a little weird, but it strokes my ego! That’s a little weird too! But it gets me through the day. And, and anyway, Caroline is really pretty and I Love her and I don’t care if every single important, interesting person in my life gravitates to her instead of me because she’s oh hey no one’s drinking this drink in my hand.“

Max might’ve chugged a little.

It might also have been that the punch wasn’t as nonalcoholic as she’d assumed. Or maybe a handsome guy disappearing off with her best friend for an hour, after she’d blown him, was giving her a complex.

He hadn’t even played with her tits before blowing her off to focus on Caroline.

“You’re holding a lot of tension,” Brad advised her.

“There’s no tension between me and Caroline, we just live together!” Max insisted.

“In your shoulders. May I?”

“May you what?” Max asked, not sure what was going on. She was used to men trying to get her to relax, but they usually thought that would happen when they were inserted into one of her orifices.

“Just… here.” Taking her by the shoulders, Brad twisted her around–slid behind her on the couch and sat her on his knee. Max was about to be very concerned about the size of her Ass and how big she knew his cock to be, but then his hands settled on her shoulders, tensing, clenching, pressuring into muscle that was hard and taut. Max felt a crackle of soreness, a pain she’d been ignoring, and then it eased with a soft sense of relief.

More careful ministrations kept the feeling going, licking away at her aching muscles like a kid with a Popsicle.

“You’re… actually giving me a massage,” Max mooned. She’d gotten a lot of offers, taken them up on it several times, but it never actually ended in one. Her bare back seemed to hold no appeal to guys or girls when her breasts were on the other side.

“Not a very good one,” Brad said apologetically. “Here. I want you down here.”

He set a throw pillow from the couch down on the floor before where he was seated and gave Max enough of a gentle nudge for her to sit down on it. Then, with him on the couch and her on the floor, he dug into the tensed muscles of her back, now working twitches and groans out of Max’s body with every moment he spent… tenderizing her.

“That still sucks,” Max said playfully, her mind relaxing as much as her body.

“I’ve seen your kind of ‘sucking’. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Max chuckled. Maybe this guy wasn’t so bad–even if she liked him–and even if Caroline liked him. Anyway, she was at least self-aware enough to know she was getting off on the validation of him paying attention to her instead of the blonde. That made it okay that she was, y’know, getting off on it… right?

His hands came up off her back, rubbing at her temples instead. Max’s lips parted and she let out a quiet moan. Technically, she could do this herself–but it felt plenty good to let Brad do it for her.

“You and Caroline actually have a lot in common.”

Max groaned inwardly. “Do we have to talk about her…?”

“Why not? It seems to be your favorite subject. You two are something of a matched set.”

Max snorted. She couldn’t believe this wasn’t making her tension spring back up, but instead she just kept relaxing and relaxing, lulling into a pleased hum before she just had to get in the last word. “She’s an idiot.”

“You said you loved her.”

“Did I?” Yeah, she had. “Well, I can Love an idiot, I have rights.”

“You have good taste in idiots.”

“Yeah, man, lucky for you. Fuck, that feels good. Did you give Caroline one of these?”

“No.”

That felt good too.

“Okay,” Max trilled, just because it was beginning to feel awkward just sitting in silence, him kneading the tension out of her muscles, her… moaning. “What the fuck do Caroline and I have in common?”

“Daddy issues,” Brad answered readily, moving his hands down beside her neck, his thumbs circling the back of her neck–dialing into the top of her spine.

Max felt, somehow, the big absence of a headache, the utter lack of one, a minus headache, an anti-headache. “Look, just because she called you ‘daddy,’ doesn’t mean she has issues. And me, I didn’t even have a father, so obviously I can’t have daddy issues.”

“Ran out on you?” Brad asked.

“According to my mom, he was going out for cigarettes, but he wasn’t a smoker. Guess it’s taking him a long time to figure it out. You’re pretty not shit at giving a back massage, mister. But don’t get cocky. I have a lot more front for you to massage.”

“Then I guess I’d better get on that,” Brad joked. Or at least, she thought he was joking.

He wasn’t. Slowly, very tantalizingly, he reached in front of her and took hold of the zipper on her catsuit. Max could’ve stopped him, she was looking right at what he was doing, but she didn’t make a move. Not even a sound, as he unfastened it down her ample chest. The full round globes of her breasts spilled out, revealing how stiff her nipples were. They were big, red, utterly worthy of the sumptuous tits they jutted out from.

But before Max could even process her nakedness, Brad was giving her more. “You haven’t had a father to rebel against, punish you, make you a good girl,” he told her, his hands roaming soothingly, caressingly over Max’s chest. “You’ve just had Caroline.”

“I like Caroline,” Max sighed, feeling Brad’s hands knowingly massage her breasts. They smoothed along her satin skin and went underneath her cleavage to cup the nakedness of her firm, yet softly pliant teats. Max gasped as she felt his firm grip spread more soothing coolness through her overheated body–she didn’t know what she was feeling–warmth or comforting balm.

“I know. That’s why you Love her so much.” Then Brad’s hands were under Max’s armpits, picking her up and pulling her into his lap. She felt the huge bulge of his prick between her buttocks and his arms wrapped around her, hands soft and gentle and knowing, rubbing warmth into breasts that were already burning Hot.

His fingers teasingly traced the contours of her breasts’ silken white heft, always making their way to the nipples. One by one, he rolled them between his thumb and forefinger, his touch firm but not yet painful.

“I Love Caroline,” Max repeated, liking the sound of it, or not the sound, not liking it–it was so hard to think when she was turned on like this, relaxed like this, both at once and not sure which was which, what was up and what was down–but she did Love Caroline. She’d said it, hadn’t she? It sounded true to her; it seemed to echo even.

“But now you have me,” Brad said, his voice drawing her unspooling mind like a magnet, pulling her from the thought of Caroline and into the insistent pleasure his hands were offering her tender breasts. “I’m going to make you a good girl.”

“Good girl,” Max moaned to herself, feeling hypnotized by his voice… or perhaps it was the sweltering warmth that pervaded her body, emanating from her wet cunt and spreading out to her breasts, her nipples, her whole body tingling with anticipation and swollen with passion. And he hadn’t even touched her there. The lust, the wetness, sang in her Pussy like a prelude to what Brad was describing… she liked the thought of being a good girl.

“Or at least,” Brad reasoned, “a good enough girl. A good whore.”

His hands squeezed into her plentiful breasts again, her nerves seeming to reach out yearningly for what he was doing to her. Her mind couldn’t resist the sensual signals that he was making her body produce. He had turned her flesh against her, against any self-restraint or discipline she had. No, Max didn’t feel like a good girl. She felt like the other thing. She liked being the other thing.

“Whore…”

Brad kissed the back of her neck, then the side of her neck, then there were several kisses, then his tongue rolling down her clavicle like a drop of molten lead had fallen on her flesh. Max went cross-eyed as Brad let go of her heaving breasts, leaving them throbbing with arousal, and took her white wig off, letting out her long, dark, natural hair. He playfully ran his hands through it, petting her scalp like a continuation of the massage this had all started as.

It felt good. Caroline would’ve loved it. But Brad was right. She wasn’t a good girl.

Max took Brad’s hands by the wrists and guided them back down to her agonizingly swollen breasts, cooing in relief as he began to squeeze them again, play with them again. Her mind felt freed, released by this idea of her being a whore–so much easier to think about than all those confusing thoughts of Caroline–Max’s thoughts raced along paths that felt like they were not just paved, but iced over, sliding her down inescapably to the filthiness she usually had to be drunk to access.

She turned her head, baring her throat as he laid more biting kisses on it, hickeys marking her like his personal property. “Am I a good whore?”

He didn’t answer her–whores didn’t deserve answers–but one hand came off her breasts and ran caressingly down her lovely face. Max kissed his fingers. She wanted to kiss him, kiss like a good girl, but her mouth wasn’t for that. Her mouth was a cocksleeve and she’d been lucky to get his cum too, to be a cum dumpster.