Work Text:
One late afternoon Marlene Stanger sidled up to Alan Shore in the office corridor and told him in a low voice that, that night, they were going to a party. She also told him he was likely to "get fucked seven ways from Sunday", and that he would be blindfolded.
Alan scribbled a quick note of apology for Denny for missing their nightly scotch and spent the next fifteen minutes fighting down an erection with the power of a 20 page report of a corporate tax evasion case.
At 19:06, he climbed into a cab with Marlene, still in his work clothes, his excitement barely numbed by the quick drink he'd swallowed before leaving. Marlene was looking her angular, merciless best, having changed into something even blacker and slicker that her usual pinstripe. She slipped the cabbie a note with an address. "It won't be a boy-girl only party," she whispered in his ear, and dug a black sleeping mask from her purse, "but you like that, don't you?"
The last thing Alan saw before darkness covered his eyes was her red grin, slicing to the left like a cut.
19:25, and the cab curved on gravel and stopped. They'd left the city center behind, but there were still the sounds of traffic around. A residential street? Marlene took Alan's hand to help him out of the cab, then slung her arm through his. Alan felt the irregularly paved pathway carefully with his feet, and then the few stairs up. A private house.
"A few rules," Marlene said as she pressed the doorbell. "No peeking, obviously. No rough stuff, unless you're asked. Avoid talking, unless spoken to. And this one is from me..." She pressed her cheek against his, tongue flicking out quickly to lick his earlobe. "You won't say no to anyone in this party. Is that understood?"
"Yes," said Alan.
"Good boy." She squeezed his bottom, her long fingernails digging into his flesh through the material.
Inside, the chill wind turned into a warm, murmuring interior. Alan could faintly see the golden lights through his blindfold and heard the crackling of a fire, and voices around them. There was also the clinking of glasses. For a panicked moment, Alan wondered if Marlene had just taken him to an investor's dinner party. The panic melted into absolute intense delight at the same thought.
If it was just a regular dinner party, he was screwed already either way, because his erection was pitching a bold tent at his front. But what a way to go would that be!
"Marlene!" It was a woman's voice, but not one Alan recognized. "Lovely to see you." There was the rustling of fabric, and a smacking of lips. "And who's this?"
"Do you really care?" Marlene asked.
The other woman laughed. "No. Well, just park him anywhere, and let me get you a drink."
"There's an armchair on your left," Marlene told Alan. "About three steps. Between you and it, there's a couple fucking on the floor. Don't you dare step on them."
Now that she had said it, Alan began to notice the faint sound of thumping on his left. The couple wasn't voicing their pleasure; all he could hear was their breathing, and the light scuffle of flesh on carpeting.
"Oh, and take off your clothes. Fold them neatly, too. If you think I'll browse for your things in a mess on the floor later, you'll be walking home naked."
Alan's ankle brushed against someone's head on the way to the armchair, bumping it softly, and he could hear one of the lovers then, a soft moan, gender indistinct.
He kept imagining the faces of the investors' board while he undressed, slipping his tie off, then his shirt, his trousers, shoes, socks, underwear.
Then he sat down on the armchair, laid back and waited, crossing his legs. The chair was squishy, squeaky leather. He wished he had a drink and a cigar, and imagined Denny next to him, equally naked, in an identical arm chair. A not unlikely scenario.
The voices around him ebbed and flowed, a giggle here or there, some grunting as a more vocal couple started fucking. Somebody was complaining about the economy. Finally, the voice of the woman who'd welcomed them made its way towards Alan.
"...Absolutely gagging for it. Marlene, darling, may I?"
"By all means." Marlene's voice was amused, almost soft.
He could hear the muffled thup-thup of high heeled shoes as the women stopped in front of him.
"He's a bit chubby, isn't he?" said the stranger. "Not to mention flabby."
"Chubby enough," Marlene said, "and hardly flabby where it counts."
"So I see. Well, one has to start somewhere."
"Sit properly, bitch," Marlene said suddenly, harshly, and the sharp tip of her shoe kicked Alan's calf, knocking his foot to the floor. "Make room for my friend."
Alan settled back, expecting kisses, or maybe slaps. Instead, there was a sudden yank on his erection, a harsh kind of a tug, and then the familiar sensation of a condom being slipped over him. He recognized Marlene's touch even before her nails scraped his abdomen. "There we go," she said, and with no more ado Alan felt the stranger settle herself on him, backwards, her soft bottom tight against his belly.
She slid in easily, and clutched him inside her, in a moist, happy pussy. "Don't touch her," Marlene instructed him in undertone. He grasped the arms of the chair instead, biting his lip to stay quiet.
"Mmm," the stranger entoned. "Just right. You don't lie, Marlene." The woman quickened her pace on Alan, bopping up and down in his lap. "Fuck, Marlene. I've been horny as hell all evening. I'm already going hard. Sweetheart. Would you mind?"
Alan felt the woman shift in his lap, bringing her bent knees up, until her back was resting against Alan's body. Alan was gasping, grinding up into her, dick throbbing faster with every dip she took. Then he could feel Marlene's spidery fingers on his thighs, Marlene nuzzling the point where he was joined with the stranger. He could feel her chin on his cock, and realized what she was doing.
"Marlene," the woman gasped. "Oh fuck. Yes. Wait."
She popped off his cock as suddenly as she'd took it in, leaving it waving in cold air. Alan let out a grunt of disappointment.
"Shut up, whore," Marlene commanded and slapped Alan's thigh sharply. Alan felt her grasp his dick, and for a moment feared for his balls, but then he felt the stranger settling down on him again. When she engulfed him this time, she was tighter, dryer. Much tighter.
"There," the woman breathed.
She started pumping her ass on him, up and down, slower, deeper. Alan's head fell back, his mouth a perfect O, gasping at the dry air. He could feel Marlene's elbows on his abdomen, her arms around the woman, and hear the squelch of the woman's wetness.
"Oh fuck, yes," hissed the woman, pumping faster on Alan's cock. "Marlene, don't you let him come. Ahh. Sweetheart."
She tightened on him, and Alan could barely help himself. He rode out her orgasm in a haze, left needy to the point of pain as she slipped off him the final time.
"That was lovely," the woman said happily. "He's a lawyer, isn't he?"
"Mm-hmm." He could hear Marlene get on her feet.
"I can always tell. Wait, let me get Ricky. He loves lawyers. He won't mind, will he?"
"You don't have to care about that," Marlene said, and Alan could hear the deep satisfaction in her voice. "But no."
*
It was dark outside by the time Marlene finally removed Alan's blindfold, but even so Alan had to blink at the lights flashing past as the cab sped down the street. He was rumpled and dirty, his mouth tasted of latex, his balls were sore and his ass was stretched, and he needed a shower and piss and a good night's sleep. And a drink.
"Thank you for that, Alan," Marlene said, and rested her head on his shoulder, the little smile on her smudged red lips as close to genuine delight as he'd ever seen on her face. "That was fun."
It was moments like these when Alan felt her grasping at his heart, leaving her suction marks on its scarred surface.
"Anytime," he promised.