"These parties get more and more interesting every time," he said, glancing from Tanya to Charlie and then back to the dark-haired woman. "I'm sure you haven't been here before. I'd've remembered."

"Why's that?" she asked, fishing for compliments. The woman didn't try to figure out why she was doing this to Charlie. She knew. The man bored her now. He didn't give her the all – out sex she wanted, needed. Charlie wasn't bad in bed. His prick was larger than most men's and he knew how to use it.

Her only gripe came in that he didn't use it like she wanted him to.

"Simple. A woman with your… charms," he said, glancing down into the canyon between her mountainous tits, "would stand out in a crowd." She basked in the man's attention. Her hand stroked over one of his mighty biceps as she asked, "What do you do? From the size of your arms, you must be an alligator wrestler."

"Nothing so thrilling," he said, laughing, then drinking the remnants of his highball. "I work for Mr. Steele." He said the name as if that explained everything. She had never heard of Mr. Steele and said so.

"Really? I thought everyone here would know him."

"Tanya, it's getting late," said Charlie irritably. "Let's go."

"So go, if you think it's late," she said brutally. "I think I'll stay and find out a bit more about my new friend…" She let her sentence drift away because she hadn't found out this scrumptious man's name yet.

"Marcus," he told her. "I work for Mr. Steele." He glanced up and locked eyes with Charlie. Charlie nervously shifted from foot to foot, then left without another word.