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fit. Thought maybe she left with you- I guess Aubrey saw you talking- wouldnt leave me alone til I called you. Kept threatening to- what? Oh, right- immolate himself. So long as he doesnt do it in front of any kids, right, guy?" Alex laughed, and Blaise recognized the sound- exhausted but amped. Artificial awareness, the interesting after-effects of some upscale Peruvian flake. "I tried to tell him you hate that whole scene, hate modern art- that the only Cubist you recognize is Rubik-" Alex giggled. "But he wouldnt believe me, so here I am, making him happy- there! Are you happy? Happy! Happy!" Violetta was Maxwell Coxs girlfriend? Blaise turned that revelation over in his mind, examining all its facets. "Im an awesome fucking host, man," moaned Alex, through his machine. "Ask Maxwell. No!" he said, aside. "You cant talk to him. He isnt home." A laugh. "Right, Blaise?" Right, Alex. "Ok…shes not there, Max, ok? She went bye-bye. All-gone Violetta. Maybe she went home- did you call her place? I mean- Blaise-" Alex burst out laughing. "Blaise likes em square, not cubist…" The boy was cracking himself up. "The Obsessionists," he gasped. "are people who wear…Calvin Klein-" He dissolved into spasmodic titters, then- "-and the Post-Obsessionists, theyre people who think its p-passe," he shrieked, and through his laughter Blaise heard the phone drop, the ensuing scramble, and he suspected Alex was wrestling with Maxwell Cox for custody of the receiver, judging from garbled cries of "No" and "Its mine". Then the line went dead and the machine clicked off. The red light began to flash. He had a message. Blaise gathered his glass from the counter and walked away. Interesting, he thought. "What was that?" Violetta asked, incredulous, as he entered. Blaise looked at her, reclined against the padded headboard of his California king, her legs bent like a pin-up model, swaying them lightly from side to side. "Your boyfriend," he said, mildly, as her mouth opened slowly and then closed again. "Really," she said. A nice recovery, he thought. "Yes." Blaise unfastened his pants and let them fall, gathered them up and draped them over the armoire. He sat down on the bed, running his hand over her leg. "Well, actually- it was Alex, on behalf of Mr. Cox- but he was well-represented in the background." She seemed amused. "And what did he want?" Blaise let his hand drift upwards, over her thigh. "He thinks Im fucking you." His hand slipped over her pussy. "Oh," breathed Violetta. "But hes wrong." Blaise put down his wineglass and moved over her, as she opened her legs, eyeing him boldly. He pushed his cock into her, slowly, up to the hilt. "Not anymore," he said, coolly. Violettas eyes laughed, but her mouth was occupied with silent moans as she savored his incremental invasion. He began to fuck her like he knew she needed it- like he needed it, after that first carnal brawl- slowly, with weight behind it, intent. Blaise was very patient with second comings. He moved in languid circles, filling her, moving, never far outside her cunt, letting the subtler sensations strike him as they came, reveling in the warm


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grip of her depths. His passion-wrecked hair fell in attractively disheveled sections. Paul Mitchell? Violetta reached up and touched one of these, pulling it through her fingers. Her other hand roamed recklessly over his body- his ass, his back, his chest- and she looked up at him, her eyes unreadable save for the obvious, that his actions pleased her. "What is this, anyway?" he asked. "Why did you leave him at the party and come here- with me- why am I doing this to you now?" "And not Pauline?" she moaned, distracted, but it was a point well made, and Blaise considered it briefly. Then he was listening, not thinking- relishing the sweet little sounds that escaped her open lips. Violetta whispered something that he didnt catch, but he understood her bodys request. He increased his force but not his speed, grinding her down, deep into sweet ruin. The phone rang beside the bed, but he kept going, as he reached for the receiver, riding her pussy with rhythmic devotion. Her eyes fluttered and threatened to open, but he smoothed them closed with his palm. "Shhh, no." He said. "This is nothing." He took a deep breath and lifted the phone, cradling the receiver between his cheek and shoulder. "Yes?" he said, sounding tired. A pause. "Blaise?" Marcus. "Yes- what is it?" "Oh, hey- glad I caught you." Marcus didnt sound at all glad, but Blaise didnt care all too much in the moment. He gazed down at Violettas face, completely oblivious to anything but her own pleasure, and waited for Marcus to say something relevant, or even meaningful. Christ. "Wow, what a night…" Marcus was saying, sounding vaguely uptight. "Great party, huh? Alex always puts on the dog, fucking great, huh?" "Fucking. Great," echoed Blaise, with a lift of his brows, and smiled as Violetta responded to his words, lifting her hips, breathing softly out. "Yeah, great party- hey, anyway, whered you get off to so early?" Marcus said, unsuavely bridging the transition between the faux and real subjects. "I had something urgent come up," he said wryly. Marcus was clueless. "Gotcha. Gotcha." He paused. "Because, well, Pauline was…less than favorable and…since you were gone- I took her back to my place." A silence, as Blaise leaned over Violetta, kneading her breasts sensuously against his palms. She writhed, cooing, growling. "Is that ok?" asked Marcus, after a moment. "Its no big deal, I know that- I mean, I wouldnt have bothered you, but Pauline-" he spit out the hated words, trying to sound amiable. "Pauline wanted me to call." Blaise made a decision. "Hey, Marcus. Buddy. I need you to help me out." He said, in a low voice. "Oh…really?" Marcus paused, relieved, then eager. "Yeah. Yeah, definitely, buddy. What do you need?" "Well- I have a little…situation…on my hands, Marcus. It seems." He bent forward and flicked his tongue over Violettas nipple, causing her to buck and clench around him. "Yes?" Marcus voice, distant, on the line, drew his attention once more. "I cant talk to Pauline right now. You know how it is." "No," said Marcus, sounding irritated. "I dont. Blaise-" "Listen," Blaise said, and was silent, holding the