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Corrupting Power
Corrupting Power

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Brewster's Brood - Part 19

Part Nineteen

Esme Santiago – 3/8/2017 – Thursday – 5:23 pm

The whole house had gotten quite the audio performance, as despite the heavy soundproofing they'd put on the walls of the bedrooms, Gwen had been shrieking in pleasure loud enough to overcome that, and much of the building heard her pleading to get a cunt full of Max's cum over and over again. Maybe that had been part of Gwen's gameplan, trying to establish to all the other girls in the house that Max was giving her a solid dicking that nobody else had the right to ignore.

“Shit,” Esme thought to herself when she saw them walking out of the bedroom, “she's walking a little bowlegged. He must have pounded the fuck out of her. Lucky bitch.” Even though she'd already had one go at Max, she was eager for more.

There was something genuine and kind about the man that she hadn't anticipated when she'd first heard Mrs. Churchill's pitch. She'd described him as “a nice guy,” but in Esme's own personal experience, anyone described as such rarely was. Sure, Mrs. Churchill had given a long list of accolades and events that had made Max seem too good to be true, but the more she'd talked to him, the more he'd just seemed like a great guy who'd been dealt a lot of bad hands, and had grown increasingly paranoid because of it.

Max had hopped through a shower and was headed back to the truck to start in on the evening shift. Dana's plan of keeping runners coming and going had worked spectacularly, so much so that there was even a waiting list, in case anyone canceled an order. Whatever mojo the woman had done to ensure that Max would be in constant demand here, so much so that Max had even speculated he might be willing to station the truck at Ironwood on Fridays as well moving forward, although not tomorrow, as he still had a contractual obligation for the week to fill with one of the food truck collectives. But getting him dedicated and on site two days a week sounded like a good start. Dana had even mentioned to Esme that after a few weeks, she was going to try and convince Max to open a second food truck, staffed by the brothers who already worked his main truck on the off days, and for the first truck to just live at Ironwood Estates. It sounded like a bit of a risky proposition for Esme, who cautioned Dana not to move too quickly, but Dana assured her she would back off at the first sign of trouble.

What Esme was worried about was when Delta Group came steamrolling in, an event that was only a few hours away. Too many women and not enough men was going to make the whole place seem way too suspicious, so Esme had shot out an email to all active players in the game:

Look, if you've got male friends who are local, brothers, uncles, anyone who you can trust to follow the rules – no unwanted contact, no sex without a condom, no talking about how long they've been members or how they got invited – get'em over here.

For the next three days, any time we can get Max at Ironwood, it needs to feel like the Playboy Mansion in its heyday, with beautiful, friendly half naked women everywhere, and a handful of men who look like they're luckiest son of a bitches in the world. And ladies, these men need to have some attention paid to them.

I know we're all here for one thing and one thing only, but if the game's up, then the game is up and we're all fucked, and nobody wants that to happen now do they? That means a couple of you are probably going to have to take a shot or two in the mouth or on the face to sell the illusion. Remember, it's just sex, and you can have as much or as little fun with it as you want, as long as Max buys the fantasy we're selling him. This is a sex club, so he can't be the only one having sex around here. Do whatever you have to make sure that wherever he looks, there's people having a good time, getting busy. That also includes if you ladies want to get frisky with each other – nobody's going to judge what you do here, and the Bay Area is extremely welcoming to all members of the LGBTQ+ community. I suspect there are even a few lesbians who are just going to lay back and think of England to get a kid from Max, with no personal enjoyment of the process whatsoever. You do you, ladies.

But so far, we've been doing really well, so keep it up, ladies. And a loud Ironwood welcome to our incoming sisters in Delta Group. Happy hunting, ladies!

She hoped the message would draw some more men into the club, as she fully expected the ladies of Delta Group to come storming in right around the 7 pm allowed entry window. Esme had already seen how impatient some of Charlie Group had been, and she expected it was only going to get more and more difficult to wait for each later group moving forward, even if they did get more time at the end.

That was the big problem she saw in trying to go for the grand prize – leaving Max alone without her for nine days surrounded by gorgeous willing women, trying to leave the final lasting impression on him. And even if just a tenth of the women in the Brand Game were looking at trying to get Max to consider them for potential brides, that would mean at least nine others to contend with, were she to try and go for that spot.

She didn't have to decide now, thankfully, but Esme felt like the longer she waited, the more likely someone was going to get a claim well staked and her odds would dwindle. From the way the girls had been talking, both Jenny and Brooklynn had tried setting down some longer term expectations with Max, although they'd also been very careful to encourage him to sow his wild oats for a while, to learn what he did and didn't like.

“I think I've got it partially figured out why Max's dating history is so difficult to get a bead on,” Jenny said to the table. Esme, Jenny, Brooklynn, Erika and Yael were sitting around one of the round tables alongside the pool, well out of earshot of Max. “He's just super shy.”

Brooklynn shook her head, sending the copper locks dancing in disagreement. “Nope, not buying it. I mean, duh, yeah, he's a little shy, but there's some definite trauma there. Either a girl who broke his heart, who cheated on him, who friendzoned him for a million years, who didn't know what she wanted and strung him along, who abused him, who shouted at him and called him worthless... I don't know what particular stripe of bad bitch he ran into, but there are someone's bootprints on that boy's ass and he's still gunshy about trusting anyone. I mean, shit, I had to basically tell him I wanted to fuck him, and I haven't had to do that since I was, like, in high school. He's not completely oblivious to subtle cues – he just doesn't trust them, or he's paranoid that he's misreading them. It's a classic confidence issue. I bet this'll get him over that, though.”

“Was he a good fuck for you girls?” Erika asked. The Asian-American girl exuded positive energy in droves, a wide smile that never seemed to fade or even shrink. “He's a little older than I'd go for, but Kelly was telling me earlier that once they got him going, he was way more concerned with them getting off then himself, and that she'd never really seen a guy like that before.”

“The good guys are like that,” Jenny said, “and yes, he was a great fuck. Attentive, caring, playful, almost impossible to embarrass, and willing to work with me to find a position and a tempo we could both get off to. I aim to see if I can get a second go around today or tomorrow.”

Brooklynn offered her opinion next. “He was so kind and gentle, and absolutely not at all starstruck, which was a nice change of pace. My last few boyfriends, I dunno, I've felt like I was a trophy to them, something to be conquered and then put in a glass case and shown off to friends. But I got the impression that Max didn't care all that much that I'd been nominated for an Oscar or a Golden Globe. He was just looking to make me smile for a little while.” She blushed a little. “I didn't meant to get so sappy, but he's just not at all what I expected from him, you know?”

“How do you think he's going to take the money?” Erika asked them. “It's not just a lot of money. It's an obscene amount of money, and I know money can change how people are. One of the people I wrote a song for was such a nice girl when nobody knew who she was, and then she blew up overnight, and she turned into a real bitch. Like, she pretended that she'd written all of her songs herself and that the other people on the song credits were just 'consultants' that she was being generous and sharing songwriting credits with because she felt 'sorry' for us. I mean, can you fucking believe the nerve of that?”

Brooklynn nodded. “I knew bitches like that. Girls who were humble right up until they got their big break, and the minute they found it, they dropped everyone who helped them get them there. Those girls found themselves surrounded by sycophants who were just leeching onto them for their cash, and some of them found their way back into the light and some didn't.”

“Like you've ever had trouble with money before recently,” Jenny said, rolling her eyes a little. “I remember seeing pictures of you and your sister living the big luxury life all the time. Watching games from the owner's box. Going to the Met Gala. Fashion Week in Paris. Penthouse apartments in the most prestigious buildings in Los Angeles. I don't think I would ever describe you as humble, Brook.”

“Yeah, okay, that's a fair critique, but the last few years have been something of an eye opener for me and my sister, as we've learned who's been around us for our money and who's been around us because they liked us as people,” Brooklynn sighed. “Both me and Gwen lost long time boyfriends who we could've sworn weren't as shallow as they turned out to be. We sold basically everything we could except for the bare essentials–”

“You mean your high end homes?” Jenny said.

“I mean, we're sharing a single house in Los Angeles now, and it's not what anyone would call a deluxe house,” Brooklynn said. “No penthouse. No trips. Certainly no Fashion Week. We were spoiled princesses, no doubt Jenny, but we aren't any more. And even back when we were, I know I at least tried hard not to show off or revel in what we had. The press liked showing it off, but I worked as hard as I could to still play the game of an actress trying to promote the projects she's working on without rubbing the public's face in the rich life.”

“Well,” Esme offered, “maybe keep trying with that. And I don't think Max is going to want to show off his wealth. I mean, he'll probably use some of it to get a handful of very nice things – a place to live, a great location for a restaurant, taking care of his Frankie and the brother – but beyond that, I think he's not going to abuse it all that much.”

“Speaking of Frankie,” Yael interjected. “Has anybody gotten anything useful from him so far? To me, he's felt like he's just a guy who's hung around Max forever, not really his friend.”

“No, they're definitely friends,” Esme said. “I think the problem is that Max is just sort of a private individual, and Frankie isn't the kind of guy to push, so he doesn't always get the most indepth analysis of what Max is thinking. But he and Max have been talking a bunch today while they're working, and that means Frankie'll have a bunch of information for us to pry out of him after they're done with the day's shift.”

“Let's hope, because I want to get a read on how he and I are doing,” Jenny said. “I felt like I was starting to establish a rapport with him, but considering how many women are throwing themselves at him these days, it's hard to trust those feelings, you know?”

“Just play the game,” Esme said. “And may the baddest bitch win.”


Mrs. Churchill – 3/8/2017 – Thursday – 6:52 pm

“So how are we looking, Jacinda? Delta Group ready to enter the picture?” Mrs. Churchill asked her assistant.

“Looks like it, boss,” Jacinda replied. “This is our first group that has more international players than it does US citizens, so it should shake things up a bit, give it kind of a touristy vibe for the next day or so.”

“Are they more or less thirsty than Charlie Group was?” Maia asked.

“Less? Maybe?” Jacinda smiled and shrugged a little bit. “With this many women in play at once, it's extremely hard to tell who's going to bounce off whom and how they're going to interact. They all want a piece of Max, and there's never going to be enough of him to go around. For the most part, we tried to stick to women who would understand and respect the rules, and would definitely still go for what they wanted, but wouldn't blow the whole fucking thing up in our faces.”

“Cover our own asses above all else,” Lynne said. “I hear that.”

“I'm not sure the cover stories some of these ladies are going to spin on how they're here in the states, or how they belong to this fictional international ring of sex clubs Dana's invented, but I guess that's their problem, and not ours.”

“They're resourceful women,” Mrs. Churchill said. “I trust they'll do what they have to, to make sure their covers aren't blown.”

“That's not the only thing some of them will be blowing,” Lynne muttered with a smirk beneath her breath.

“Esme's also put the word out that the club is going to need more men around tonight, so a couple of the girls are sending in their brothers to be window dressing for the time being,” Jacinda added. “We're hoping that'll give enough cover and make it look like it isn't just endless women parading for Max's attention.”

“Excellent,” Mrs. Churchill said. “Send Dana a message, letting her know I'm coming by.”

The silence in the room was so loud it could've deafened God.

“Uh, what?” Jacinda said, being brave enough to speak first.

“I want to get an up close and personal set of eyes on the matter–”

“–but the cameras!”

“–and so I'm going stop by and size the whole thing up in person.” Mrs. Churchill laughed a little. “Lighten up, ladies. It isn't as if I'm making a play for Max myself, but I want to have him at least comfortable enough with having seen my presence around that it doesn't send him into a tizzy any time he catches me near by.”

“I thought the idea was that we weren't exposed, boss.”

“Yes, well, we still won't be. But I want to take stock of how Max is handling this all with my own skillset, and, to be frank, it isn't something any of you are capable of. No offense, Doctor.”

“None taken,” Doctor Williamson chuckled. “I'm here for Max's physical safety, not his mental state of affairs.”

Mrs. Churchill moved over towards the door, grabbing her coat, a strange smile on her face. “Oh, just relax would you? Everything's going to be fine.”


MRS. CHURCHILL'S NOTES (Cast of Characters):

The Mark (& Company)

Mrs. Churchill's Team

Alfa Group

Bravo Group

Charlie Group

Delta Group

Echo Group

Foxtrot Group

Golf Group

Hotel Group

India Group

Juliett Group

Other figures of note


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