The Knight and the Acolyte Book 8 Chapter 9 The Knight s Passion
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Lost Toys 7 - Day Of The Night Of The DawnChapter 3 free porn video
Dawn Rhodes – Wednesday, July 22nd, 2015
I was embarrassed by the “Snarf! Gargle! Blegh!” sounds I had made. Eden didn’t even apologize for hitting that pothole. Worse, Matt liked it. His fingers knitted under my hair as I struggled to swallow his erupting cum. It was thin and lighter, but he had fucked my cunt, Kendra’s asshole and Robin’s tits earlier today. No Melody. No Sara. Was it wrong to be impressed? Proud?
“She’s going to need to fix her hair and makeup,” Eden warned him, me. I licked around his cockhead as he deflated. I made a show of swallowing. He kissed my forehead and let me up.
“That’s fine,” Matt brushed my hair back. I didn’t wear it at all complicated. Wash it. Brush it. Leave it. I had fair brown hair that hung blandly straight. Eden fought for hers to sit like mine did. Bitch. I laughed.
“I was planning on dropping the two of you off at the service entrance and then finding somewhere to park,” Eden worried, “But then you had to go Matthew on her.”
“In her,” He chuckled and rubbed my cheek, “Less messy.”
“Problem solved, yes,” Eden shook her head slightly. She was driving slowly, clearly uncomfortable with the big van. Especially because she needed to use the wing mirrors to look back. I hadn’t driven since high school, and only with a learner’s permit I had never graduated from. I should learn. I wouldn’t be a burden.
“I wasn’t wearing much makeup anyways,” I assured Matt. It had been at Robin’s insistence. Her business, her standards. Matt’s standards were less professional. It wasn’t that I didn’t like makeup. I looked good with the little peach lip gloss I had put on and the splash of blue along my eyelids; I just wasn’t used to it. I didn’t wear it for work. I hardly went out. I—Courtney would teach me. She’d love it and I’d hate it. I was certain of that. Who else could I ask though? Anyone maybe. Janine? I hoped not.
“OK, well,” Eden pulled over to the curb, “Let’s get you fixed up and I’ll run you over.”
She unbuckled and rolled around the driver’s seat. Matt was sitting giddily in the little side chair. Our cargo, two blue boxes with plastic windows and one paper bag stapled shut, sat in a plastic cooler secured under a metal table. Eden, Matthew and I were dressed in our uniforms. Blue button up shirts, with a four buttons undone among us. Matthew in pristine white pants. Eden and I wore tight skirts, also white, a couple of inches over our knees. We all wore white shoes too. Eden and I had agreed at her insistence on ankle socks. I guess it was still the street rat in me but I liked thicker socks. Matthew folded his cock back into his striped boxers and tightened his new white belt closed. He brushed back his hair. I was kneeling on a floor mat and when I rose up. Eden tsked at the bit of dirt on my knees.
“You look worse for wear than she does,” Eden took his hands away and ran her fingers through his hair to straighten him out, “Dawn, wipe your mouth off and reapply. You should be fine.”
“OK,” I was surprised really. I didn’t know I could give a functional blowjob without tears running down my cheeks. Score one for our heroine. I grabbed Eden’s purse first. I should carry tissues with me. I wetnapped off my knees and got myself made up as Eden shook her head.
“That’s the best I can do,” She mumbled.
“I do love your best,” Matt grinned cheesily and they kissed, lightly. She brushed something off of Matt’s shoulder and returned to the driver seat, “Please buckle up, Dawn.”
Eden drove more swiftly now that I had a seatbelt. Matt squeezed my fingers as we pulled up to the side entrance of the club. I unbuckled before we had come to a stop and avoided Eden’s glare in the rearview. I grabbed the boxes while Matt leaned into the front and kissed Eden under the ear, “Thanks for the ride, babe.”
Matt took the boxes from me while I carried the bag. I could smell the hot pastries in the bag as I stepped out into the warm Halifax night. The sun was technically still setting, night enough for me.
The Upstairs was a club, downtownish. There was the main door, swarming with college aged kids and slightly older people, that recessed into a brick wall next to an organic looking smoothie place and a side door with a metal plaque further down. A pink haired girl was bouncing a clipboard off her thigh as she talked around a cigarette at a bunch of drunks she wasn’t letting in. They were finally giving in, walking past us, when the one girl in their group shouted and ditched them.
“Matt!” Her cheerish scream had turned my head. Her friends seemed happy to abandon her for the slow flow at the front doors. She was a cute girl, in a sluttish red dress and uncomfortable shoes. Matt laughed as he was bowled over, “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Hi, Cammy,” He laughed and accepted a hug. I hadn’t closed the van door yet and when I turned to Eden she was rolling her eyes and digging through her purse. She handed me a six pack of Forefront slap bracelets. It was going to be that kind of night, wasn’t it? Eden tilted her head and I swung the side door closed.
Cammy had no rings on any of her fingers. Rules. Yeah right. She was slipping back from her hug, which was horribly awkward seeing how Matt hadn’t put down his boxes. The balancing act disentanglement was ridiculous. Opportunity for me though, I got the perfect crack onto her left wrist.
“Whoa!” She laughed and giggled. Matt looked at me shocked. Really? I mean, there was this girl, older than me, maybe older than Eden. Mid twenties is what I’m saying. Anyway, green eyes, brown hair, big tits, and a huge laughing smile. She wasn’t Tiffany skinny, who was? OK, Melody, Phoebe, Sara, fuck off. But Cammy wasn’t Robin thick either. Just a cutie.
“Hi, I’m Camille,” She grinned, “You work with my cousin, Matt?”
“Oh!” I yelped in four syllables. I tried to look contrite. Eden pulled away behind me. Cunt, “No, I—I work for Matt.”
“For?” She grinned, and jabbed her cousin in the pectoral with one finger, “Hey, give me a job.”
“I guess,” He shrugged. Looking to me like I just drowned his puppy. What were the chances that she’d be his cousin? Didn’t his family live out of the city anyways? Wait, Eden said something about a cousin on her slave date. I smiled mostly by looking like I had stepped on a nail. Matt shrugged and forgave me. Rules. Yeah right.
“Ha! As if,” Camille laughed, “Anyway, I’ve better get back in line. The show is going to be crazy. I caught them last time and--”
“Come on, Cammy,” He was certain that his boxes were good, “I’ll see if I can get you backstage.”
“You can’t unless you’re on the list,” There was the clipboard girl, a woman, Matt’s age, early thirties, smoking at the service entrance. She had already turned away Camille and her friends who were now inside. Wow, quick to ditch her, huh? Clipboard was tall, thin and dressed in a short skirt and apron. She had on a black tank top and a push-up bra that was really trying her best to get her tips. She didn’t have a lot to work with. Her vibrant pink hair was puffing out of a high ponytail. She took another drag from between livid red lipstick and her blue eyes popped under eyeshadow, “Who the fuck are you thinking you get in anyways?”
“Babybird Bakery,” I announced.
“Says Forefront Foundation,” Camille read her wrist. Matt shook his head.
“She said you work for him,” The smoker laughed, “Babybird is owned by a rather forceful black woman. You don’t fit that bill, Matt.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry.” Matt scratched his hair, “See the thing is--”
“Robin owns the bakery. Matt owns the caterers.” I interjected because Matt was going to ramble for about six minutes before he could say that.
“Yeah,” He nodded. I figured I’d have gotten a squeeze for that, if he hadn’t been carrying these fluffy maple filled things covered in like a caramelized syrup. I’d fuck Robin, that’s what I’m saying.
“So those are for the band?” Pinkie frowned. She turned the knob and swung the door outward, “They’re in the room with the gold circle on the door.”
Matt gestured with his head to Camille to follow but the girl at the door put her hand up to stop her.
“Why are you swinging those at people?” I had missed. Pinkie almost snarled at me.
“They’re--” I put my hand on Matt’s shoulder to let me explain.
“We’re doing a fundraiser thing,” I hurried, “Forefront is--”
“A charity for women’s scholarships,” Pinkie cut me off, “Don’t ambush me.” She raised her wrist and I saw Matt nod. I eagerly swung this one down, “I got my first year books paid for by them years ago. Still, she can’t come in.”
“Oh,” Camille frowned. She was looking back to the front door and seemed to notice her clique was gone. I was going to miss out on her punching someone.
“Sure she can,” Matt explained. The pink haired girl pulled her hand back from Camille in shock, “Hey,” He slipped one of his cards into Pinkie’s apron, “I’m Matt, by the way.”
“Giulia,” She lifted a little nametag out of another pocket, “With a G.”
“Ick, I can imagine how often people misspelled your name,” He laughed. Giulia shrugged.
“Meghan goes apeshit over that, doesn’t she?” Camille grinned and hurried in.
“She used to,” Matt gestured me inside, “If a black woman dressed like us comes looking for us, send her in.”
“One of the bouncers will be back from the pisser soon to relieve me,” Giulia frowned.
“Tell him then,” Matt rolled his eyes and stepped past her. We entered a wide hallway in time to see a trio of two fat guys and a skinny girl going out onto the stage.
“Oh shit, are we late?” I worried turning to Matt. He looked cross-eyed at me. Camille laughed.
“Those are the opening act,” She rebuked me, “Where’d you find her?”
“On the street,” He laughed. I went red, but strove to diffuse the anger. Camille patted my shoulder while Matt whispered something to her.
“Hey, you do your thing, I’m going to watch the openers! I’ve never been backstage before.” Camille gurgled. Matt jumped when she slapped his ass, “Thanks dude.”
“Enjoy,” Matt smiled and Camille went ahead to the curtains. There were no speakers back here but the sound from the bar was kinda loud anyways. The girl on stage shouted something about being, “Suicide Recluse.”
“She doesn’t want to come see the band with us?” I watched Camille walk up to some roadie and begin weaving to the opening song.
“I may have pushed her along,” He smirked at me, “We’re trying for a different vibe than a girl in a party dress.”
He knocked on the gold circle door. There was another door, with a silver circle that hung open right next to it. Matt touched my wrist, I was still holding a bunch of slap bands and hurriedly shoved them in the back of my skirt’s waistband. The door opened a second later. Drowning Miranda smelled of weed. Matt seemed happy to see them and I had no fucking clue. I felt bad.
“Hey.” Said a dude with a bald head and a suit jacket and loose tie over a ripped up t-shirt and jeans. His eyebrows, nose and ears were a constellation of steel rings, “Thank fuck! I can smell it already.”
“Yeah, Robin pulled it out of the oven less than twenty minutes ago,” Matt gestured with the boxes. He was relieved of them immediately.
“Those the fucking pastries?” A gravelly voice exclaimed, “Man I fucking love this hellhole of a city. That’d be the worst part about getting too big to play The Maritimes.”
“Hi,” I tried to smile as the second guy, in a plain white wife beater and heavy jeans took the bag out of my hands.
“Yeah, well, we do great work,” Matt slipped a card from his case. He fucking loved showing that thing off, “You mind mentioning that to the crowd sometime during your set?”
“Sure buddy,” Said tie and jacket, “If I wasn’t fucking starving, I’d eat one of the turnovers on stage.”
“You’re good man,” Matt grinned.
“And thorough,” And they closed the door in our faces. I looked up to Matt.
“Are we leaving?” I think he had planned to but some massive guy had exited the back door and Pinkie was coming back in. Matt grinned at me and walked up to wear his cousin. Camille was full of energy. You could call it dancing, if you had no respect for dancing. He hadn’t said anything about her to me. Would he? It didn’t seem worth the mental suffering to expect the other shoe to drop. He didn’t even seem pissed. I thought about Pinkie. Maybe Giulia made up for it? She was hot. I looked back to the door.
The pink haired girl was using her cell phone as a compact mirror. She had pulled out her ponytail and was waving the vibrant cascade onto her shoulders.
“Hey, Matt’s terrible,” Camille grabbed my hand and pulled me up her, “Dance.”
On Matt’s nod, I moved with Camille. It could’ve been fun. Matt enjoyed watching me, or worse, us. The music was bad, stale, unimaginative. These guys didn’t have too much energy. The crowd seemed to be suffering through the set. I tried, but wow, I didn’t care to.
“Hey,” Camille frowned and turned from me back to Matt, “Did you meet the guys? They’re fucking awesome!”
“More Meghan’s style than mine,” He replied, “I think my plan worked out though. We’ll see.”
“You need to stop being an old man. Have you listened to anything new since Nirvana? Have you heard of the twenty-first century?” She grinned.
“The Foo Fighters,” He smirked and she frowned her lips tightly together. He poked her. Giulia wove past us and headed for a staff door further down. Matt watched her butt, “She’s hot.”
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