pressures and awkwardness
that came with trialing. The Betties were under the assumption that the Consorts were
starting fresh at the Grants just as they were. Of course, they’d learn in time that
wasn’t the case, but we were supposed to remain elusive about that fact.
I’d seen some of the Consorts throughout the night, even talked to a few of them briefly,
but I had by no means indulged in a full conversation with any of them, which was
my assignment for the evening. I’d been too distracted. Despite my diversion, I was
able to fully appreciate the variety in the women offered to me.
Seeing the diversity of women in the Betty pool made me smile warmly, and I thought
that the pickings this year were ripe and delicious, ready for the taking. That may
have been crass of me to look at them that way, but honestly, how else was I supposed
to feel?
Sex had become mundane to me. And I say that as a man who has had a plethora of experience
on how to spice things up in the bedroom. I considered myself somewhat of an expert,
as was the point of the program to begin with—for the Consorts, anyway. It was the
Grant philosophy that it should be second nature for a man to be able to derive pleasure
from a woman’s body. I excelled at it, but I had yet to find someone to do the same
for me, adding to the extensive dread I felt at the prospect of starting with a new
round of Pledges.
Sex had become nothing but an action—a motion of bodies without meaning. Yeah, it
felt good to get off with a gorgeous woman in my lap, but when it was over, I wasn’t
left panting and crooning for more—having that desperate need to get my next fix like
the women I’d pleasured. I guessed that was what accompanied sex without emotion.
Yes, there was a thrill to see a newbie find exquisite pleasure at what I did, but
really, that satisfaction for me was fleeting. I hadn’t found anyone who could do
the same for me and I was starting to believe that this whole Grant thing was bullshit.
The only time I’d ever found myself optimistic was when I saw Madeline in that room.
Maybe that was why I seemed to be so enthralled by her. She’d brought me an ounce
of hope, something I hadn’t felt since I walked through those doors almost two years
before.
And really, what had she done in that room that countless women don’t do across the
nation in their own bedrooms? Even at that moment, there were probably hundreds of
women masturbating to images of their deepest desires.
What made her so different for me? Why was she able to spark that desire that had
been dormant for so long in my gut?
“You seem lost, my friend,” Zack said, coming to sit by me on the white couches. I
hadn’t moved from that spot since Madeline had positioned herself at the bar because
it gave me a direct line of sight toward her.
It was unlike me to be so sedentary at these parties for a multitude of reasons, but
mainly because it wasn’t prudent to be so antisocial when you were a Grant. More was
expected of me than that, but I didn’t have it in me to care about that so much for
some reason. I was sure Zack picked up on it somehow.
He always had a way of getting to the issue at hand, and his comment was probably
more accurate than I was willing to admit. So instead of delving into a philosophical
discussion with Zack, I decided to play coy and divert him with my sharp wit.
“Not as lost as you. Where is your little chica?” It was jab and a deflection in one;
Mina was an interesting duck with an attitude to match her hot Latino looks. Zack
had a soft spot when it came to her. I hoped he’d change the topic and she was always
the perfect outlet for that.
“She’s with her Betty. Sarah, I think her name was,” he replied with a smirk.
Bingo . . . a successful diversion, Wilson .
“Mina always gets so excited for the new Betties to arrive, especially this time for
some reason. She
that came with trialing. The Betties were under the assumption that the Consorts were
starting fresh at the Grants just as they were. Of course, they’d learn in time that
wasn’t the case, but we were supposed to remain elusive about that fact.
I’d seen some of the Consorts throughout the night, even talked to a few of them briefly,
but I had by no means indulged in a full conversation with any of them, which was
my assignment for the evening. I’d been too distracted. Despite my diversion, I was
able to fully appreciate the variety in the women offered to me.
Seeing the diversity of women in the Betty pool made me smile warmly, and I thought
that the pickings this year were ripe and delicious, ready for the taking. That may
have been crass of me to look at them that way, but honestly, how else was I supposed
to feel?
Sex had become mundane to me. And I say that as a man who has had a plethora of experience
on how to spice things up in the bedroom. I considered myself somewhat of an expert,
as was the point of the program to begin with—for the Consorts, anyway. It was the
Grant philosophy that it should be second nature for a man to be able to derive pleasure
from a woman’s body. I excelled at it, but I had yet to find someone to do the same
for me, adding to the extensive dread I felt at the prospect of starting with a new
round of Pledges.
Sex had become nothing but an action—a motion of bodies without meaning. Yeah, it
felt good to get off with a gorgeous woman in my lap, but when it was over, I wasn’t
left panting and crooning for more—having that desperate need to get my next fix like
the women I’d pleasured. I guessed that was what accompanied sex without emotion.
Yes, there was a thrill to see a newbie find exquisite pleasure at what I did, but
really, that satisfaction for me was fleeting. I hadn’t found anyone who could do
the same for me and I was starting to believe that this whole Grant thing was bullshit.
The only time I’d ever found myself optimistic was when I saw Madeline in that room.
Maybe that was why I seemed to be so enthralled by her. She’d brought me an ounce
of hope, something I hadn’t felt since I walked through those doors almost two years
before.
And really, what had she done in that room that countless women don’t do across the
nation in their own bedrooms? Even at that moment, there were probably hundreds of
women masturbating to images of their deepest desires.
What made her so different for me? Why was she able to spark that desire that had
been dormant for so long in my gut?
“You seem lost, my friend,” Zack said, coming to sit by me on the white couches. I
hadn’t moved from that spot since Madeline had positioned herself at the bar because
it gave me a direct line of sight toward her.
It was unlike me to be so sedentary at these parties for a multitude of reasons, but
mainly because it wasn’t prudent to be so antisocial when you were a Grant. More was
expected of me than that, but I didn’t have it in me to care about that so much for
some reason. I was sure Zack picked up on it somehow.
He always had a way of getting to the issue at hand, and his comment was probably
more accurate than I was willing to admit. So instead of delving into a philosophical
discussion with Zack, I decided to play coy and divert him with my sharp wit.
“Not as lost as you. Where is your little chica?” It was jab and a deflection in one;
Mina was an interesting duck with an attitude to match her hot Latino looks. Zack
had a soft spot when it came to her. I hoped he’d change the topic and she was always
the perfect outlet for that.
“She’s with her Betty. Sarah, I think her name was,” he replied with a smirk.
Bingo . . . a successful diversion, Wilson .
“Mina always gets so excited for the new Betties to arrive, especially this time for
some reason. She
Similar Books
