Post 220: Scenes from a Party, p3

The doctor, the board-certified geriatrician and founder of the medical practice for which this evening was a celebration, felt like he already had to get away. What started in his head as a likely awkward but mostly harmless evening among his employees wherein he’d have to smile, nod and thank some people for money before faking a headache and excusing himself had turned - less than an hour in - into something for which he was completely unprepared. He knew the girls that had forced themselves upon him last weekend - Randi, Amelia and Marisela - would be there. He knew he’d have to face them, maybe resist some advances (which he was, like, totally prepared to do!). He knew he’d also have to face Melissa, his new Office Manager over whom he’d developed the most unhealthy of obsessions and who seemed to be slowly - perhaps unwittingly - pulling him into some sort of orbit; breaking out from the gravity of that would be harder. But so far he’d run into none of them yet - Randi, Amelia, Marisela or Melissa - but had nevertheless found himself sitting at the bar absolutely surrounded.

It was from the bar that he needed to get away.

These girls, all these new worker girls, were like a swarm. They were a swarm, in fact. There were dozens of them here tonight and they were on every side of him as soon as he stepped into the dark club, escorted in by the five beaming young women who’d driven him here: Shanette, Josie, Lakshmi, Stephanie and Julia, holding onto his shoulders and arms, guiding him in. Then there was Bessie, Silvia, Emily, Kori, Lexi. Nadia, Katarina, a whole bunch more: a crowd of girls he barely knew, fawning over him. There were others on the dance floor, or milling about, all casting glances his way. Even previous employees of his, Brittni, Bobbi, Aubrey, others: they were all so...affectionate, touchy-feely tonight. Or, like Cynthia standing alone over there, looming with a coke, casting him thirsty glances. It all made him uncomfortable. Was he the only male here tonight?? No...no. There were some others. Some of the construction workers, a small smattering of them skulking around the corners, for the most part keeping to themselves.

But, mostly, this was a party for his girls, and the doctor’s appearance set them all to buzzing, excited. If he’d been bathing, swimming in the pooled perfumes of five girls on his ride, then entering the party was like opening the gates to an ocean. The assembled women, the whole workforce of Far Horizons Medical Associates, were here ready to let loose, drinking and excited. Some of them were already dancing. There was a reckless energy in the air, huge possibilities. New to the abilities they were just discovering, on his appearance they made no efforts to contain the pheromones that they found could just pour from their bodies. They let them loose unchecked, filling the place quickly, heavily. He’d had just one drink and already his head was spinning as he sat at the bar surrounded by bodies, female bodies, each one more voluptuous than the next. And all of them smelling like…ffffuck. He’d been doing his best to be strong all week, to keep his head above water, but suddenly he felt like he was drowning. 

Dinner? Were they going to have dinner? There were tables set up, an area that looked ready for a buffet, but no food had arrived. So in the meantime he was mired waist-deep in a cocktail hour, seated at a barstool, currently talking to Katarina, a new hire for whom he’d ordered a vodka, straight. She was blonde, straight-haired and pale, a new mom by her description, Eastern European by her accent. She was thin but a tight, long-in-the-sleeve, low-cut-in-the-bust and high-to-the-hip black dress showed off a surprisingly hippy figure with shockingly big breasts. Shanette, taller, bustier and more curvaceous still, stood close to the side behind him, squashing his skinny right shoulder with her huge, soft left tit...

“Omigod, Dr. J, look around,” Shanette laughed, as she waited for her Espresso Martini from the bartender, “besides maybe a couple of the servers, I think you’re the shortest person here!”

The doctor, privately shivering, didn’t know what to say. He glanced around, from one statuesque beauty to the next, and had no argument. How in god’s name did this happen..? He started to chuckle, but the laughter died on his lips.

Seeing the doctor not answering, not responding to her teasing, Shanette just laughed deeper and became bolder, straightened up taller so her breast came to rest fully on his right shoulder, pressing against his right ear. How does that feel, little man? she thought to herself, as once again he said nothing, Pretty good I bet.

“Oh my gawd look how quiet and passive and adorable he’s being! Co za mała kochanie!” Katarina crowed, falling into her native Polish, as she leaned in, arms squashing her big breasts between them. She saw his eyes drop for a second to her bloom of cleavage before he quickly looked away. “Haha so vulni..! I just want to take him home and nurse him!” she giggled.

“Omigod I said the same thing on the ride over!” Shanette laughed, as her left hand found its way to the left side of his head, pulled his head sideways more firmly into her tit, “Me too!”

“Haha how does that sound, niemowlę??” Katarina cooed, leaning in closer still to her new employer, this frail little man who to her was strangely just dreamy, “Want us to take you home so you can have two mommies?” Katarina had been hooked up with this job by the same people who’d helped her emigrate, back when she was pregnant, and had been told a little bit about what was to happen, what this guy represented, the purpose he’d serve. But she’d never found herself this bold before, with other men. And something in the air was making her extra feisty. But this guy doesn’t mind, does he?

“Yeah how would you like it…” Shanette purred, her voice reverberating with giggles through her chest, “…if one of us just tucked you into our bra, snuck you out of here?” She was looking down at him, petting his thickly disheveled hair, admiring the subtle streaks of gray. “Should we do it?”

Katarina snorted, had to put down her drink on the bar. ”Oh my god don’t  even joke about it!” she said to Shanette, reaching out with one hand to caress his left cheek, “I haven’t pumped in four hours. Remember...I’m a mommy with twins. I’m already so full...I might burst!”

Inhibitions down from booze and pheromones, the doctor’s gaze was pulled back to the apparently milk-swollen boobs of Katarina, her voluptuous bulge of creamy cleavage, the subtle pattern of blue veins. The soft warmth of Shanette’s breast against the right side of his face was overwhelming his senses and nearly all his reason.

There was talk of Katarina’s vodka, talk of “pump and dump”, an offer of a White Russian and…

“Uh, excuse me,” the doctor said, the first thing he’d said this whole time, “ I need to, uh, get up...”

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