No Deal-A threesome teenage erotica series

Dinner party

Isaac bought me a ton of clothes—way more than I was expecting. Once we knew my size, the boys went crazy, running around all departments, grabbing everything and anything I could ever need. He even had them all set to be delivered to my house tomorrow. Honestly, they enjoyed it a little more than I did, which is both enduring, sweet, and worrisome. To think they care enough to make sure I don't look like a train wreck anymore. Trying to help me when they don't know me and are only doing this to get their grades up…?! Perhaps I was wrong about these trust fund babies after all.

We dropped Isaac and Darl off at their homes and then drove to Zanes. After he had me change into a skin-tight, long-sleeved, powder purple dress, black dressy ankle boots, and a nice silver necklace and earrings set, which I am sure cost more than my allowance every month, At least I don't have to pretend I can walk in those death heels.

Zane drives surprisingly slowly for someone with such an expensive sports car. He is very courteous to other drivers. He slowed down for people trying to cross into his lane, waving to an old lady to go ahead and cross at a stop sign. Just basic things that should be common courtesy, but let's face it, no one has that nowadays. Not once did he try to slide a hand over to my side of the car, despite his and Darl's joking earlier. Every time he reaches to take a drink from his water bottle, I think this is it. We are alone in his car. He is going to make a move. But he doesn't; he keeps to himself. Very relaxed and seemingly at ease just driving through town. I'm not sure if I'm disappointed or grateful. If nothing else, this ride has given me a small amount of comfort in being around Zane Anderson. Maybe he isn't as bad as people make him out to be.

Once we turned into a very expensive neighborhood, Zane looked over at me. “We need to discuss dinner.”

“What about it? You're afraid I don't have good table manners?” I joked.

Zane laughs to himself. “No, actually I'm more afraid they don't. My father and my uncle can get into some pretty heated arguments sometimes”

“It's alright, I know the rules, don't talk unless spoken to, keep my head down, and pretend like I like you” I flutter my lashes at him for dramatic effect. Zane cracks a small smile, showing me his straight white teeth.

“It's not that easy, Mousy."

"Don't I know it? " I tease with a sweet smile. He smiles back with that thousand-watt smile that makes my stomach tighten.

Then he does it. The moment I have been waiting for comes. His hand slides over to mine. He takes my hand and kisses the back casually. As if we talk like this all the time and have been together for years. He seems comfortable with me, showing affection effortlessly. Not like with any other girl I've seen him with. He is different now than at school. I hope this Zane lasts because I'm comfortable with him too. I don't want to lose that yet. As much as I can not believe this to be true, I genuinely enjoy hanging out with Zane.

He lets my hand go gently, letting it rest comfortably on the center console. "Anyway, smart-ass, you are the newcomer, the outsider. For at least the first hour, the conversation is going to be aimed right at you. Wanting to know everything there is to know about you”

“First hour? How long do you people take to eat?”

“The first hour is just small talk, while we eat salad or some s**t, then the first, and second course, then dessert. Afterward, we all retire to the patio for drinks and more conversation.”

“Gosh, that is a lot of food and talking.” Now I am getting nervous. Perhaps this won't be as easy as I had thought.

"You wanna practice?" he offers

"Sure, why not?"

"OK, I'm going to be my mom. " He pretends to flip his hair all dramatically, making me laugh. I have to say Zane is energetic, funny, witty, and charming. Not at all the dangerous bad boy they have warned me about. It has become hard to see him as I always have. He is a completely new person. "So, how did you two lovebirds meet?" He says in a high-pitched tone.

"I'm Zane's biology tutor," I answer easily enough.

"No! Hell no! Don't even dare mention me failing. My grades are not to be mentioned tonight. Got it?"

"Yes, sir." I mock salute.

"Oh, I like that. You can call me Sir. Anytime you want sweetness," I roll my eyes.

"How about we have biology together? We're lab partners."

"Perfect, OK, my dad. How long have you two been seeing each other?" He dramatically lowers his voice while switching his easy smile into a hard wall of a blank canvas. His father seems fun.

"Can't you answer the hard questions, or do I need to start making flashcards?"

"Haha, hilarious. Alright, look, we have been dating for a week but have been school friends for years. I just never made a move."

"You? Not make a move? I thought this story was supposed to be believable."

"What's not believable?" He fakes hurt feelings.

"You flirt with everything remotely female. Is there any girl you have ever just been friends with?" Silence follows my words. "Exactly, let's go with I finally gave you a chance after your constant blabbering?"

"Whatever just don't make me sound needy or whiny; I have a reputation to uphold, even among family."

We pull up to a long driveway with a beautiful black gate up ahead. A guard comes out of his post as we approach. But only comes up to my window. He takes a picture with a small handheld device. It looks like an oversized pen, but the flash makes my eyes burn. The guard has dark shades covering his eyes, even though it's getting dark outside. Black dress suit and black tie. He looks like a member of the CIA or something. "Who's your new friend, Mr. Anderson?"

"This is Amity..."

"Gates, Amity Gates, sir." I finish for Zane.

"How do you two know each other?"

"We are friends from s-school. They invited me to f-family dinner this evening." Not being able to see his eyes is messing with me.

"It's cool Ben, chill, you're scaring my new squeeze." Zane says to the Men in black wanna-be in a bord tone.

"Ahh, I see. My apologies, Mr. Anderson. I just need a copy of your ID for security, Miss Gates."

"Oh, ah, I'm sorry, I-I don't have one."

"You don't have an ID or driver's license?" I shake my head no. This man is so suspicious of me. So odd.

"Ben, I'm voguing for her. If anything happens, it's on me. Now open the gate." the authority in his voice makes the weight of these people's suspicions fade.

Ben hesitates for another moment before answering, "Yes, sir." He takes slow steps back to his tower office and opens the gate for us.

We speed through faster than I ever thought possible. There is the horsepower I have been expecting since I entered this car. The house comes into view quickly, and my heart skips at least ten beats. I'm dead in this seat. A pile of puddly-goo staring at the most beautiful house I have ever seen. I knew Zane came from money, but... wow!

This mansion is what I would expect the Queen of England to live in. It has a clean, light-tan brick or rock texture. With huge bay windows all along the front and bottom levels. I have never seen so much sparkling, clean glass before. This structure has to have three or four levels. I can't even see the back. This place goes on for miles. Surrounded by huge fields of grass, trees, and flowers in bloom. It looks so fresh, clean, and colorful. Did I just drop into Oz?

"Too late to back out now, Mousy. Come on. " Zane takes my hand and kisses the back again, calming my screaming nerves. He makes the scary evening to come seem less intimidating. A little; a very, very little.

"This may seem like a silly question, but do you think they will like me? I know this is all pretend and all, but I don't want to be where I'm not wanted."

"You worry too much. They will love you, trust me. Just relax and don't blow our secret."

"No pressure," I say sarcastically.

Sarcastically… I'm being sarcastic with Zane Anderson, the leader of the bad boy crew at South Brooke High. I'm going to a family dinner with Zane Anderson as his fake girlfriend after he and his friends spent the afternoon giving me a makeover. This is all too surreal.

As we approach the entrance, a doorman opens it with a sincere smile for Zane. He's dressed just like Ben at the gate and seems to be just as weary of me as he was. Since the doorman doesn't sport dark sunglasses, I'm able to see his eyes check me over in the same way I could feel the gateman's eyes. Even though I couldn't see them, I could feel them. These security people sure are suspicious of newcomers. I hope it's not just me.

"Is your security always this openly suspicious of guests, or is it just me they have a problem with?"

"We don't have new guests very often." Zane's tone alerts me to the change in the atmosphere.

I hadn't noticed when we first walked in because I was so focused and consumed by the suites bluntly eyeing me like I was carrying a bomb. Zane is different. His walk is faster, his shoulders are more square, and the easy smile I've learned to be so comfortable around is gone. His face is of stone, a blank canvas. Given his current attitude, you could never even imagine the smooth-talking playboy was just under the surface. His ability to chameleon into this new persona so quickly is alarming.

I take my chances and touch his shoulder to get his attention, speaking softly so as not to set him off.

"Hey, is...is everything OK?" His ice-blue eyes snap down at me like he almost forgot I was there. The crease between his eyebrows softens, if only a little. He nodds his head, yes, then takes my hand in his again, his thumb running slow circles over the top of my hand. A small tingle makes my hand feel almost numb.

Zane guides me into a very large sitting room with enough space to fit my whole house in it. Dark wooden tables and chairs are artfully scattered around the room. With creamy couches mixed in here and there. The couches have dark brown leather trim on them, making them all match. Giving the room a very earthy, homey vibe while also being open for business conversations. Classy, clean, and sophisticated. Not at all like the second-hand furniture I bought for myself at home.

Two men sit at the far end of the room, puffing cigars and drinking some kind of dark drink out of crystal-clear glasses. One man has deep dark hair and is wearing a crisp navy blue suit. That's all I can see of him since his back is toward me. But the man across from him gives me a small pause. I feel like I know him somehow. He has a strong jaw and a straight nose, and his eyes... they look so familiar. Green, like the fresh green grass in the springtime. Dirty blond hair was artfully slicked back. Wearing a dark gray suit. I hate to admit it, but for an older man, he's quite attractive. They seem to be having a passionate conversation about something as we approach them.

"That is ridiculous. Just load them on a shipment and be done with the deal. Honestly, when did you get..." Gray-suite stops his sentence quickly when he looks up to see me attached to Zane. Zane's hand squeezes mine a little for reassurance. Gray-suit looks me up and down in a way that's sort of in between how the security team looked at me and how Zane looked at me when he first saw me in this dress. Hungry eyes devour every bump and valley this dress offers while also being skeptical. This is a man who won't trust easily but perhaps is a bit too comfortable around women too young for his age.

Blue suit turns, giving Zane an easy smile. I see now that this has to be Zane's dad; they are practically clones. Same dark hair, perfect arched eyebrows, the same full rosy lips, the same strong jaw, and an easy sideways smile. The only difference is that Blue-Suit has green eyes, much like the stranger still looking at me far too close for my liking. He is also bigger in the shoulders, like Gray-Suit. They have to be related. If not, brothers, Gray-Suit looks to be the older of the two, but not by much. Maybe four or five years?

"Ahh, there he is. We worried you wouldn't make it on time." Blue-suit stands while talking to Zane.

"Good evening, father; hello, uncle. My apologies for the tardiness. The traffic was awful, I'm afraid." Who the heck is this guy holding my hand? Zane does not talk like this.

"I'll bet" Zane's uncle is still looking at me! With a small snare of a smile, clearly, he thought I was the traffic. Does this family only think of s*x? "And who is this lovely little creature you have tagging along?"

I don't like this man. He speaks about me in front of me as if I can't answer for myself. He looks at me with both suspicious and hungry eyes. The curl in his mouth suggests a man who is perfectly fine treating me like an object. Sorry boys, I know Zane told me not to speak, but this man needs to know I have a voice. I am not a stupid little bimbo holding onto Zane for a lifeline, even if I kind of am.

Sucking up as much courage as possible, I detach myself from Zane to walk forward and offer my hand to shake his father's hand first. "Amity Gates, sir. It's a pleasure to meet you. You have a lovely home. Thank you for inviting me."

Zane's dad lifts an eyebrow, taking my hand in his with a kind smile. "Pleasure is all mine. When my son told my wife today about the girl he has been taken with, I simply couldn't resist a meet and greet. I should have known he would find himself a natural beauty, eventually. I'm Haresan O'Brian."

A blush speeds over my cheeks. I'm not used to compliments, certainly not from attractive older men. I hesitantly turn to Zane's uncle. "Nice to meet you as well, my dear. I'm Daniel O'Brian."

"Nice to meet you, sir! O'Brian? I thought your last name was Anderson?" I ask Zane, who has made himself a perfect little home, looking awkwardly over to the side of me. He's looking at me like I have two heads, looking between me, his uncle, and his dad.

"Yeah, I have my mom's last name; long story... Shall we head to the dining room? I'm starving!"

Haresan claps his hands together, finally getting Daniel's eyes off of me. "That sounds great. I'll go get my wife and meet you all there."

"I have to hunt down my son as well." The older gentleman walks out of the large room, and we follow slowly behind.

Zane takes my arm, slowing us down so they can leave us alone. "I told you not to speak unless they ask you a question."

"Zane, I'm sorry, but even though those are no doubt powerful and intimidating men, I will not be some hopeless maiden they ignore until I am graced with the honor of their attention."

"... What the f**k does that even mean?" he asks me, half outraged.

"It means I have a voice, I have opinions, and I will not let you or any other man bully me into submission. I will speak when and if I feel like it. Your uncle thinks he can just look at me like an object and I will just roll over and play dead? …You know me enough by now to know that will never happen, Zane".

"f**k…" He whispers to himself while scrubbing a hand over his face and through his hair. He seems to have absorbed everything I just said, realizing "You're not going to make this easy on me, are you?"

"Come on, where's the fun in that?" I tease him and bump his shoulder into mine. Damn, he's solid. He may not be as broad as his father, but muscle is a factor he does not lack. "Do you mind if I use the restroom before we start?"

"Of course, it's just down that hall, first door on the right. When you're done, come down this hall and stay straight until the end, then turn left, OK?"

"Okay, thank you. I'll be back soon."

This place is amazing—so bright and clean, and I find the bathroom with no problem. It's a public bathroom, just like the kind you see at restaurants. Only way bigger and cleaner. For a family that doesn't entertain much, they certainly have the space and amenities for it. When I go to find the dinner party, I will not lie… I sort of forgot the direction I had come from. It's not exactly my strong suit, okay? I take a chance and go right, quickly realizing this is the wrong way because the paintings I passed were not the ones I saw while walking to the restroom, so I turned around.

Hustling down the hallway, I don't want to make everyone wait on me. When I turn the corner, I run face-first into a wall of shirts and muscles. This seems to be happening to me far too often lately.

The shock that hits me is understandable, right? He isn't supposed to be here. I haven't seen him all day. No way he would pop up now. But I know that smell of woody musk anywhere. Brendan O'Brian… O'Brian. Of course! God, I'm such an i***t. How did I not catch that before?

"I'm s-so sorry," I stutter out, detaching my face from his chest once again.

"What. The. f**k…?" He is looking at me with big, confused eyes. Big green eyes. Of course! Daniel is his father. It all makes sense now. Why he looked so familiar!

"Ahh, I-I'm sorry?" I ask him. His reaction sounds confused, but he looks angry.

Brendon grabs my arm hard. He's panicking, but why? I don't understand. He pushes me against the wall, blocking me from retreating. The hard, creamy-colored walls are also made of stone, digging into my back and scratching my exposed legs. Not enough to break the skin, but enough to be uncomfortable.

"What the hell do you think you are doing here?" He growls at me.

I see now why people are so afraid of him. If I hadn't just emptied my bladder, I would probably pee myself right now. The shaking of my limbs makes my knees weak. I can't believe the small amount of time it took for him to completely render me helpless and scared.

"Ouch! Brendon, stop. That hurts." I claw at his hand on my arm, but nothing removes his vine-like grip.

"Who sent you?"

"What? Brendon, stop, please." I'm looking in every direction for help of any kind, but there is none. We are completely alone in this maze of a home.

He grabs my chin to face him. "Look at me! What are you doing here?"

"I—I was i-invited." My voice is so sad and squeaky. I hate it!

"Don't lie to me!" He roars at me like a damn grizzly bear.

He shakes me, and his hard grip tightens even more. To my horror, a small squeak of pain escapes my lips. As tears prick at my eyes, "I-I'm not! I-I was invited to d-dinner."

"Who the f**k would have invited you to dinner?"

"Z-Zane did"

Brendon's hand loosens on my arm enough for me to yank it free. I hate how afraid I am of Brendon. I stutter, and it makes me so angry. When I get angry, I get emotional. When I'm emotional, I cry. That is the last thing I want him to see me do right now. I rub my bruising arm to soothe the area.

"... Zane?" He asks, confused.

"Yes, Zane told his parents we were dating, so they invited me to dinner."

Brendon looks like I just slapped him with every ounce of power I possess. I wish I could! "…dating?" I nod my head, yes, still trying to back away from him in vain because of the wall against my back.

Silence fills the large hallway we're in. I don't know what else to say. I've explained my presence, but he seems too shocked to make any excuses for his ridiculous behavior.

Brendon steps back to look at me fully. "You look... different."

"I’ll let Darl know you like his taste in clothes," I sneer at him.

He shakes his head. "Darl? What the hell have I missed?"

"A lot”

He seems to finally notice me holding my arm. “s**t… are you OK?”

He leans forward to lift my dress sleeve to examine my arm, which is surely bruising as we speak. But I'll be damned if he lays another hand on me. I jump to the side, out of his reach, tripping over my own feet in the process. Thankfully, I caught myself before falling. Brendon rewards me with yet another just-slapped-in-the-face look.

“I'm f-fine. Can you please give me directions? I can't seem to find the d-dining room." Hopefully, he won't realize I'm trying to distract him, to change the subject enough to escape.

Brendon comes back to himself, settling back into his hard, blank, bored attitude. "We are eating on the terrace tonight... follow me."

Walking at a fast pace, he turns down a new hallway with me in tow. I'm glad I didn't have to wear those death heels; otherwise, I would have fallen trying to keep up with him.

Brendon is in a nice suit, just like his father and uncle. It fits against his bulky frame like a glove. He truly is a beast.

Before I know what I'm saying, words vomit out of my mouth. "How tall are you?"

Brendon stops dead in his tracks, turning to me. His deep eyes speared through me, shattering any and all resolve I had to have a basic conversation with him. "Never mind... s-sorry." I walk slowly again, hoping he would follow, but he doesn't.

"You apologize a lot." Thank you for the information, Captain Obvious.

"Well, the past two times we've spoken, my face gets aggressively plastered to your chest, so it feels warranted." A ghost of a smile slides on and off his face so fast that I almost didn't see it. He just keeps staring at me for 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 seconds too long.

He walks at a slower pace, thank God. "6"8'."

"Huh?"

"My height is 6"8'."

"Ohh. You're tall; I just wondered... for some reason. I'm not sure why; your suit is nice. You look... b-bigger." God, Amity, shut up! I'm nervous! I always start blabbering when I'm nervous.

"Is that good or bad?" His monotone gives me no indication of whether or not he is joking.

"Good, I guess. I mean, I'm sure it comes in handy, you know."

"How so?"

"I don't know, ahh, reaching high shelves? Not to mention, I'm sure it helps with intimidating people."

"What makes you think I want to intimidate people?"

"Oh, well, I guess I just assumed you liked intimidating people."

"Why?" He seems sincerely curious as to why I would make this assumption.

"Most people fear you," I point out.

"... do you?"

Yes! "... shouldn't I?" Again he stares at me, those light green eyes lighting up a small part of me. I am afraid of him, but I'm also intrigued. Something about him has always drawn me in while simultaneously pushing me away. Perhaps it's my dormant self-preservation coming forward, warning me to stay alert around this guy. But my stupid, girly hormones attracted me to this beautiful specimen of a man.

He never answers me; he just continues down the hall, opening a large glass door for me when we get to the terrace. Everyone is already seated.