"Nah. Wait," Ms. Terri said. "I'll come there."
Ms. Terri carried the bottle of red wine and stood up, her bikini, striped red strips of clothing covering only her vitals, muscles on her thighs shifting and booty juggling as she did.
The woman was meaty.
Lips coated white, and a navel ring eerily similar to the one Ms. Olivarez wore this morning, the words in white over a black background spelling 'Never Sorry.'
Mrs. Olivarez's one had 'sorry' written on it.
This was no coincidence. Marke more felt like it was a conspiracy.
Marke squinted at her.
Ms. Terri shrugged with a knowing smile but said nothing.
She crouched down beside Mrs. Tero, who stared at her annoyed all the while, legs dipped into the pool, cheeks spilling out over the steps of cylindrical outgrowths, three on each side, for people to sit by the pool. It was designed to force people to get in the water if they wanted to reach across, with no regular path across. It was inane, but it conveyed intention: everyone on this floor was to be wet, and that was admirable. At least to Marke.
"You should lie down there." Ms. Terri pointed to the flat semi-circle atop the steps. "Shouldn't she, darling?" She turned to ask him.
"Of course," Marke nodded.
Whatever the woman had plotted, it could wait till later, because this was developing into a situation towards something out of an adult video. A threesome. He thought, dragon twitching in anticipation. With these hotties.
Mrs. Tero popped herself up, and Ms. Terri followed.
Mia raised a brow.
"I'm his assistant for today." Ms. Terri climbed a step, palms grabbing at his biceps, sweeping her gaze over his body and lingering on his shaft. She looked up at the LED light overhead, then at Marke again with a blank expression.
Whatever Ms. Terri had in her mind appeared to have settled or gone away, as with a smile, she climbed the steps, dragging him behind her.
Marke didn't mind her cheeks jiggling and crunching as she did; her hip-to-waist ratio was an anomaly that, Marke quite frankly thought, should've been researched. It was mesmerizing.
On the flat semi-circle curving out from the wall, Mrs. Tero followed after.
"Hey!" She said, pulling him towards her and out of Ms. Terri's grasp. "He's here for me." Her breasts pressed against his arm, holding him possessively. "50-50, remember. And besides, it's my special night."
Were they going to divine him even before he got here? They could've asked him about it. But, it was whatever. He wouldn't complain.
"I think everyone's day is special today, sweetheart." Ms. Terri took a step forward, her lips reaching Mrs. Tero's forehead with an irksome smile. "Him because we're two beautiful, hot, needy women fighting over him. You, because you're about to get pounded into oblivion after he massages you. And me because I'll partake in some of that too." She leaned, putting a finger on Mia's left breast and drawing letters.
"Told you not to..." were the words Marke made out before Ms. Terri glanced at him from the corner of her eye, and instead of her entire finger drawing out a letter, it looked to Marke like she was constantly scribbling an eight on Mia's breasts.
To them, there was nothing sexual about this.
His little brother digressed.
Mia's expression hardened to a stone mask, meeting Ms. Terri's eyes like a sleeper agent had been awakened.
A second later, Mia nodded with pursed lips, casting a glance at him. "Yeah, my bad, Kien."
He was being kept in the dark.
And wasting my time. He thought he popped up. And for some reason, even though they both looked succulent with their hips flaring out from broad thighs and ample breasts jutting out, Mia's even bigger than Ms. Terri's at E-cups, with them both discussing sharing him, a flicker of impatience and annoyance flared within him.
Was there an obligation for him to listen to their squabble? No. His duties were massage and pounding; that was it. It wasn't to play jester to other people.
His job required providing service, but not for everything. He wasn't a boyfriend for hire.
But how would they know that he felt such?
There was only one solution.
Would they be offended by it? He didn't know. But I have the system. He thought. Be it here or Texas. I'll succeed. But he had lived in Picket all his life, and his starting point here, with Mrs. Olivarez's aid, was a lot higher than it would be in other places, and that was one thing he was clinging onto.
"Ladies, with all due respect, you can finish your squabbles after I do my job." He rubbed his palm comically to emphasize the point. "So, please, Mrs. Tero, Ms. Terri, lie down." He reached for the wine bottle in Ms. Terri's hand. "And I'll take this."
As he finished, a sense of relief washed over him at having said what he felt was right.
He observed their reactions. "Sure," Ms. Terri nodded first, getting to her knees and lying down; several stretch marks stretched on the side of her thigh and the intersection of her thigh and cheek. Mrs. Tero followed, lying beside Kein, cellulite creases and small indents proving it was real with stretch marks behind her ankles.
He got between the two, squatting down and sitting cross-legged between them, the marble platform under him warm.
Foremost, he sat each arm on one cheek; Ms. Terri's was heavy and chubby, while Mrs. Tero's was soft and ample and jiggly like a waterbed as he shook them.
He was simply curious.
"That part of the massage?" Ms. Terri asked.
"Yeah," Marke replied with a grin—he found his heart light as a feather somehow. "Just checking the product."
"Oh, the boy's got gall." Ms. Terri finally turned back, biting her lip. "Product?"
System. He called out, no longer interested in chatting. Use cold touch.
He closed his eyes, the stamina having dropped by 1 point. Invest another two into it. He ordered.
The woman paid fifty thousand dollars for the massage, and he wasn't about to be stingy with the points.
He popped the cork off the wine bottle, a strong smell of grapes wafting out, rich and aromatic, unfolding in layers of grapes, spice, and then wood, drilling into his nostrils.
"Straight from Italy," Mrs. Tero said, winking at him.
"Expensive?"
"Si."
Nodding, Marke tilted the bottle over Mia's back. "Since you paid for it, we will start with your first."
Ms. Terri pursed her lips, like she was holding back a smile, like she was recalling an inside joke that she wouldn't tell anyone else. "This is my house, though."
"Eh." Marke shrugged. "You aren't the one paying fifty thousand. With the money Mrs. Tero has, I don't think she's here because she has nowhere else to go and is simply here because you are her friend. Am I wrong?"
"Yes."
"Not at all," Mia proclaimed, staring at Ms. Terri with challenge. "He's not wrong. One bit."