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Stories
Deforested
A boy enters a college fraternity, but is coerced to follow the rules by the residents and his own family.
Author(s): mrsimple | 5 Warnings!
Content Keywords | Status: Completed | To Disqus!
MyReviews: 0

Chapter Five : Bisque
Posted: 2018-11-01 19:02:56 | Updated: 2018-11-01 19:02:56
Words: 2953


"Fine," I lift my head off the couch's back slowly.

"Hey Mitch, taking Adrian out," he calls up to the second floor.

"Don't be too late. Classes tomorrow morning," is all I hear coming down.

"Where are we going?" I ask this while still seated. Not moving until I know he isn't going to ditch me in some river.

"We are heading out to get something to eat," he makes light of the conversation as he heads for the door. I catch him flipping his phone out to make a call.

I get up, sighing, and follow after him.

He has this nice looking Nissan. It had two doors, which also had two sides of the roof to pop off, but that isn't going to happen in this weather.

"Three-hundred, Zee-Ex," he pats his golden baby before unlocking the doors. "Hop in."

I drop my head and sit in his passenger seat. The chair feels incredibly warm. It is leather, black, and I can only image the scorcher it would be during the summer-time.

"Where we heading?" I ask this simply because Mitch was the one who said he'd be the discount representative at the cafeteria. This meant we were heading somewhere else.

"There is a nice place called Sandy's up the road. It is about an hour from here," he mentions. "I figured we could set some foundations while getting there."

I keep quiet. I guess he is trying to get familiar with his charge, but the fact is that the place already sounded seedy. Like, a bar or strip-club. Someplace no one would ever find me hanging out.

He has the car start up and does his normal checks before looking back at me. Then he takes a look in his rear view before starting to back out.

"Look, I'm sorry about back there-," he starts.

I interrupt, "Which back there?"

"Upstairs," he marks the occasion. "Androgyny isn't exactly my thing, that wasn't me coming onto you, but if you were a girl, I'd get the bathroom door fixed."

"Fix it anyways, I don't want either of you barging in on me while I'm on the toilet," I add.

"Yeah, well, I'll get around to that," he pulls away and heads along the stream for the way out of this labyrinth.

"How come not now? It would be easy. Pop the handle off, go to Lowes or something, and put a new one on," I clap my hands, "Done."

"I'll do that on the way back. You sound like you know what you are doing, I'll give you the project," he tips his head my way, "But I'll buy."

Great, so he'll sponsor me for fixing his own damages. Did I just upgrade to the repairman?

"Fine," I nod and sit back more easily in my seat.

He stops the car.

"Seatbelt," he points.

"Really?" I ask this in a ridiculous tone.

"Seatbelt, now. There is a security check at the front and he gets on my case all the time. If he sees you, I won't hear the end of it," he explains.

I don't recall the security, but then again, I slept through most of the in's and out's of this place. Maybe mom and I were lucky?

The belt goes on and I lean back, easing in. The car gets rolling again.

There actually was a security check. A box, with a simple arm, pulls up and away for us to leave. The officer in there gets one look at us and waves us out.

"That guy was rather uniform," I mention.

"I think he used to be military, but if he is, he's a slouch," he details on the guy.

"How? He appeared professional," I make a good mention of the guy.

"For starters, he pulled the arm up before we were even there," Henry points.

"Okay, I guess that is a good one," I mention.

"Then there is no show of ID," he states.

"Why? Wouldn't that be something to note on the way in?" I kind of don't get that one.

"It is to know who is leaving the campus in the event something happens and we need to tally all the individuals who might still be here. Like, say there is a fire. Who all is still here? Did anyone see you or me leave? He'd probably pick me out, but you're new," Henry really does make a valid stake in the man's lackings.

"Well, what about having a school ID that we can check in and out with? Like hotels?" I suggest.

"That is how it should work, but the traditionalists here don't want to run the lines through the forest," Henry establishes the issue.

"Traditionalists? You mean we have natives or something?" I don't recall seeing anyone like that.

"Yes and no. Locals, those who have family history here, like my dad," he explains. "My dad doesn't really belong, out of the loop for too long, but the locals are kinda cool with me since I was born here."

"So, you are a Caledonian?" I make that ethnic title stand out. "Should I start calling you Scotty rather than Henrick?"

"Fuck no," he mentions. "You mention those names again, you're through."

I shut up. That is the first line of threats.

I keep quiet on the rest of our way to Sandy's.

When we get there, the parking lot looks packed. I mean, I don't see a spot for us to squeeze in.

I didn't anticipate him parking across their front lawn.

We get out and he tilts his head towards the door for me to follow.

"Here is the deal, Adrian. Twice, you ruined a good time for me," I feel the fluttering of blackmail coming up. "What happens now is you get used to it."

"... Huh?" That one didn't make sense.

"You're going to watch what I do and get used to it. I don't want you being some White Knight every time I decide I'd like my dick to get a little wet. Got it?" He makes that more clear than I would prefer.

"So wait, I have to watch you?" He shakes his head.

"I'm watching you, get that straight, but I'm not taking any of my time off to do it." Henry tells me before heading in. "In other words, you get used to my life. Become accustomed and relax. Maybe you'll find some puss while here," he mentions.

I am in no condition for any physical contact and this place is far too crowded for my own good.

"Look, why not just leave me in the car or something?" I suggest.

"What part of, 'I'm watching you,' don't you understand?" He asks me.

I silently nod. We were in the thick of the entrance now and the music was getting real damn loud. I don't think I could shout louder than this.

Hell, I didn't even understand what the guys in there are singing. It sounded like a different language.

"What are they saying?" I shout at Henry.

"It's German," he shouts back. "The bands like to sing their favorite songs. Like Karaoke, only in a band-battle fashion."

Why would they be singing in German? I thought Caledonia was a Gaelic thing.

The place is real dark. I can see illuminations from laser lights, green and red, blaze over a blue-tinted haze of smoke above the heads of a mob. There are tables along the side, booths further in the corner, but we would have to wade through this mosh-pit to get there.

We take nearly ten minutes trying to get from the entrance to a booth in the far corner. Apparently, it was reserved for him and a couple women.

The one is a orange-fiery haired girl with a spray of freckles on her face. I couldn't tell her eye color, but her skin was a nice light shade. It brought out her green dress and red hair in a complementary way. She was all sultry smiles, leaning her chin down and looking us over.

The other girl is dark skinned with a set of long-black hair. She looked like a persian, from the way her head tilts just right, swaying her hands over to the drinks, and passing out her feet to glide across the floor around us like a dancer. She shoved Henry in and left me to sit beside her.

Both women were pawing their own way over Henry while he casually flipped a menu to me. I took the hint. Get used to this and get comfy.

I took a look at the menu, seeing what it is they served here. I was actually surprised to see the dishes being above ordinary bar-n-grill. They are an exquisite list. A six-ounce steak sounded good, but I don't think I'm supposed to chew anything.

When the waitress came over, she gave Henry a wave, then turned to me and looked over my shoulder at the menu. I pointed at the water, being dentist's orders, and then down to a lobster bisque. The menu is taken with a nod, another wave, and she's gone.

I watched her disappear in the crowd, wondering how she navigates through that. Especially when she's holding dishes.

My hazel eyes fall down to the table, looking at the words on some advertised placement in the center, where the salt and pepper are located, and see that they have a special going for certain drinks.

Then I catch the motions next to me. The Persian is nipping on Henry's earlobe eagerly. Her hands concealed through the front of his shirt, but I could see the outline of her stroking his abdomen. The fingers spread out to reach up around his chest before raking back down to his stomach.

I didn't see the red-head until I saw the red-head bobbing up from the edge of the table. I immediately turned my head away from Henry to find somewhere else to look.

In a few seconds from that point, the Persian had gently slipped her hand around my shoulder, leaning in close, and rubbing her warm cheek up along mine to whisper.

"He says, 'Watch,'" she purrs the last word out as she turns me to witness Henry getting his rocks off beneath the table. I know he said to get used to this, but really? I have to watch this?

The Persian watches with me for a moment, then she starts to slip her hand down my jacket to feel about it. When her hand enters, she goes for the front of my shirt, going in, her fingers tug down on the wrap and I feel the binding pull taut on the stinging cut on my back.

Immediately, I wince and grab her wrist to wrench out of my shirt. She looks at me surprised, then back at Henry in silence. I see her grin, look back at me, mouth the word 'sorry' and scoots back to Henry's side to resume playing with him.

I cringe as I straighten the jacket out. That was painful. I think the scabbing is getting threads stuck in or something. It literally felt like she was re-opening that cut back there.

Right now, I could use some pain killers. Not for the bruising on my side or cut on my back, but my jaw is starting to throb again. If I'm going to be drinking or eating, I need to get over it.

I wave at Henry, then point at the swell of my jaw, make a motion as if I'm popping pills and the act of drinking an invisible glass of water. It took him a moment, glancing away, his eyes light up, and he nods.

A hand shoots up from him and he points at me.

One of the waitresses comes over to lean in. She whispers, loudly enough, for me to hear.

"What do you need?" She shouts.

"Painkillers, jaw," I state loud and clear. She nods.

Then she heads over to Henry and passes on the message. What, do I need permission from him? He nodded, reached down in his pants away from the bobbing red-head, and pulled out a slip of bills for the waitress.

In a few more minutes, I watch Henry loung back and enjoy his redhead doing whatever beneath that table. The Persian was still toying with his chest and shoulders, but she kept grinning at me. Sometimes, I see her whispering something in Henry's ear, but can't read her lips to catch it.

I am being tolerant, sympathetic, to the service. It is amazing they can even get through this crowd in that time. When I get my drink, it comes with pills, and I take a good look at them.

I'm not familiar with these, but if they kill the pain, I'm good.

Taking a sip of the water to wash the iron-taste of blood down, I then pop the pills, and take a gulp of water to down them.

Another couple minutes and I feel the pain fade away. At least it wasn't a roofie or something.

The bisque I order soon arrives. I'm actually glad for this because it means I have an excuse to focus someplace else than on Henry's pleasures.

It looks delicious. Smelling its seafood aroma was difficult with my nostrils still tingling with their bursting the other day. I dig in.

I keep my eyes low to my bowl, but the Persian comes back around to tap on my shoulder.

"Eyes up here, honey," she whispers to me, pointing her fingers at her eyes, but then directs those fingers over to Henry. I pause eating to watch. Glancing down, I see the redhead is lifting up her head to look at Henry.

He is looking at me. I don't mean watching me, but actually looking, taking in everything he sees by the top of my dark hair down to what hides beneath the table, like he could see through it.

The bobster Red-head looks my way, then up to the Persian leaning forward to the girl for a chat or something. They look back at me for a moment, then to each other, and the Persian shrugs. What the Hell? Are they talking about me?

The redhead gets up off the floor to come over to my side. She slides in next to me, smiling. Her face leans in, I can smell something from her, the scent. It has to be Henry.

"Hey," she starts off, "Did you want to join us?"

I glance at her, then to Henry, and back down at my bowl. I shake my head no.

She leans in a little to get in my sight, grinning more, "It is okay, we are used to it." Again, I shake my head. "Alright, well, enjoy the show, 'kay?" She seemed to really be enjoying this. Not in a sadistic way, but actually delighted to have this kind of company, setting, and activity.

I couldn't help it, I smile a little and gave her a nod. I don't know why, but she was kinda infectious. Cheerful enough to cause a cheer in someone.

Her head tilts over towards Henry and my attention is back on the man. The Persian is this time being the tool of his pleasure.

Her hands. I think they are her best quality. Those warm-brown fingers and palms that could melt anyone she touches, they stroke. I could tell. The way her shoulder sensually rolled while the rest of her limb hides away underneath the table, it spoke enough actions to get the picture.

The Bobster leans in again, "You should eat before it gets cold." I didn't notice that she had taken my spoon from me. How was I supposed to eat without a utensil?

She answered that by taking a drink from the bowl itself. At first, I thought she was going to go in and kiss me, letting me drink from her mouth, but she just hands me the bowl back. She swallows, smiles, and leans back in the seat to watch me slurp the bowl up.

I guess I could. Grabbing the bowl, I mimic her, drinking from the lip and draining a portion down. She gives me a thumbs-up. I couldn't hear it, but I saw her giggling.

Another lean in, she whispers, "You're really cute." I pull the bowl away and stare at her, but her fingers directs me to look at Henry again.

I pull back on the bowl, drinking it in, watching Henry look at me over the round rim of the dish. His eyes light up as he locks his gaze with mine and I barely register his neck and jaw tensing with a shudder in his shoulders. Did he just cum?

I slowly put the remainder of the bisque down. I feel a little sick after drinking that. Seeing him do that and digesting the soup made me relate the two.

I want to go.

I lean over to the Bobster, "I need to head for the restroom."

She smiles more and nods quickly, getting up without a pause and lets me go free. I scoot out and look around for a moment. I can catch the exit sign across the crowds and I hope that the restrooms are in that general direction too.

Time for my escape plan.

I mouth the word, 'Thanks,' to the Bobster and give her a wave before entering the crowd once more.

Squeezing my way through, I make it to the other side and do see that the men's and women's restrooms are over here. Instead of going to either one, I head out.


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