Red Flags Go Faster Part 10-11 (Alpha)

This is the first 5k of 15k in this stretch of releases. I'm going to be honest, I really liked writing Chapter 10 and it felt good to get back into the story, but I'm not entirely sure it fits the overall flow for what I intend to be the final novel. It could very well become a deleted scene. Let me know if you guys think it works or not!

Chapter 10

Waking up in a hotel room in the middle of the afternoon was a weird feeling. First, I wasn’t usually the kind of guy to take a nap, and especially not on a Friday in the middle of the day. Any other week, I would have been wrapping up whatever job my guys and I were doing at the time, either for the weekend or permanently, getting all the heavy equipment loaded onto trailers to head back to my storage yard. Then I’d spend the next few hours dealing with the admin stuff, making sure everything was buttoned up to kick off the next week - and usually finding more things that needed doing, and making a list to try and get done on the weekend.

Napping was a luxury.

Groaning, I rolled over and pulled myself off the bed, stretching uncomfortably and feeling a couple of relieving pops in my back, then headed towards the washroom.

There were way too many mirrors in there. Who the hell needed that many mirrors?

My phone chirped back out in the main bedroom, and I grunted. Talking with Jeannie hadn’t helped with my mental state at all - if anything, she’d muddied the waters even further. It was hard to blame her, considering it was her wedding tomorrow and she had her own stuff on the go, but I’d been hoping for something… definitive.

I think I was hoping that she would say something that made it obvious that I should pursue Alexis. That Lex had been talking about me a lot for years, or something. Not just that Alexis was a possibility.

Hell, she hadn’t even slightly favoured Alexis over Amber. She’d made it a dead-even pick, by her standards.

Did that say something, then? Was that a hint of an answer, that Jeanette wasn’t pushing for Alexis?

Staggering back out of the bathroom once I’d drained my lizard and splashed water on my face, I went back to the bed and sat down as I grabbed my phone. I’d texted Curtis, the Triple Bs and Amber that I was crashing for a couple of hours, and I’d gotten a 100 emoji back from Curtis, confirming he was doing the same, and a round of teasing from the Triple Bs for being a lightweight, and Bobby-Jo had also apparently been informed about Amber because she’d sent me a string of slightly tipsy texts talking about how hot Amber was, including screenshots from her Instagram, and as I scrolled down through the messages she realised Alexis was in the hotel, and Alexis must have joined them at the pool because Bobby texted a couple pictures of Alexis in a bikini outside, teasing me even more.

I sent Bobby-Jo a middle finger emoji for spamming me while I was asleep, and I quickly got back a laughing emoji.

Amber had texted me back as well and had actually been the one who texted me after I’d woken up. She'd sent me a trio of Thumbs Up emojis when I let her know I had to sleep off the booze and sun, and, ‘Sweet Dreams, Beau. Of me :P’, and had just recently sent, ‘U Up? XD’

‘Just got up,’ I replied to her, and went about trying to decide what clothes I should put on. My suit for the wedding was hung up in the closet, already ironed and ready to go, but tonight was the rehearsal over at the church, followed by the rehearsal dinner, which was supposed to be ‘semi-fancy’ according to Jeanette.

I’d decided on slacks, but not my shirt, when Amber replied.

‘Any dreams of me?’

‘Sorry, Darlin. No dreams at all. I crashed hard. Would have preferred dreams of you if I could control that.’

Her reply was devastating. It was a selfie, and she was at home in her kitchen, wearing that apron again but with a shirt on under it this time, and she was flashing that smile. It was subtly different from the smirk she used in her social media posts a lot, but I could see that difference clearly.

‘You’re such a heartbreaker,’ I told her.

She sent me back a couple of laughing emojis, and then a nurse and heart emoji. ‘I promise I prefer to heal hearts, break them.’ She texted again before I could think of what to say. ‘Are you alone? I want to play a little game.’

I sighed, feeling my heart speed up a little. The last time she’d asked if I was alone, she’d sent me that picture of her with her tit out while she was behind the wheel of her car. And if she was telling the truth, that was the only picture of her fully naked breast out there.

‘I’m alone, Darlin,’ I texted back, then took a risk I usually wouldn’t and held up a couple of shirts in front of me, both button-downs but one with short sleeves and the other more formal with long sleeves. ‘Trying to decide which shirt to wear for the rehearsal dinner.’

‘Long-sleeve, sleeves rolled up, top three buttons undone, and part your hair a little lower than you usually do,’ she replied quickly. ‘But first send me another pic of you wearing the other shirt, but no buttons :P’

Somehow, she could make me blush with something as simple and silly as that.

I sighed, grinning a little, and put on the short-sleeved shirt and took a picture of myself grinning sheepishly, a stripe of my torso bare down the middle.

‘God damn you’re yummy, Beau,’ she replied with a heart eyes emoji.

I sent her an eyeroll emoji, grinning to myself. ‘I’m concerned about this ‘game.’’

‘You should be,’ she replied, followed by a winking emoji. ‘I just want to know some things about you, and then reward you for telling the truth. OK?’

I grunted audibly and sat back down on the corner of the bed. This sounded… interesting, and maybe a little terrifying. She already knew I wasn’t exactly the kind of person to talk about myself. Hell, she’d even called me a ‘strong silent type’ in her social media post. ‘I’m agreeing to this for now,’ I told her.

She sent me a smiling emoji with hands, which I guess was supposed to be extra happy or something.

‘Question #1,’ she texted. ‘Would you rather suck my toes, or have me suck your toes?’

I coughed hard, stifling my guffaw. I sent her a string of question marks.

‘Hey, mister. I’m asking the questions here. You just need to answer them.’

‘I’ll answer, but first I need to know if you’re alone, or if Iris is still there typing for you.’

She replied with a short clip of her in her kitchen, turning a full circuit to show she was alone as she grinned at the camera and tweaked an eyebrow. That eyebrow was saying, ‘I deserved that’ and ‘Trust me.’

‘I’d rather suck your toes,’ I texted, shaking my head. ‘Mine are in workboots all day, every day.’

‘Cute,’ she texted back with a smile emoji. Then she followed it quickly with, ‘I have a feeling no one’s sucked your toes for you before, though. You might like it.’

I was typing a reply when a picture came through. It was Amber, from behind, still in her kitchen. She must have propped the phone on the counter, based on the angle and the view, and it revealed that she was wearing a pair of tight little shorts under her shirt and apron, the clinging elastic material hugging up into her buttcrack and showing off every curve of her perfect ass.

My grunt at the picture, and the twitch of my cock in my pants as I stared at it for a long moment, was enough time for her to be typing again.

‘Question #2: It’s Halloween, there aren’t any more Trick or Treaters, and I head into the bedroom to change into a new costume just for you. Am I coming out in a Sexy Schoolgirl costume, or a Sexy Nun costume?’

I snorted, at least managing not to fully lose my cool this time, and cleared my throat. ‘I didn’t go to Catholic school, so I don’t have a thing for nuns,’ I sent her. ‘Sexy Schoolgirl, I guess?’

‘You say that now, but I bet I could GIVE you a thing for Nuns :P’ she replied.

‘I bet you could, too, Darlin,’ I managed to reply before she sent another picture. It was from the same angle, and she must have been working at something on her kitchen island because there was a spread of baking stuff and containers out on it behind her, but the main focus was again on her, from behind. This time, the waistband of her shorts was rolled down about halfway, her butt cheeks bulging tightly against the pressure of the elastic, and a black wedge of thong was visible, carving down into the upper cleavage of her ass cheeks.

‘Questions #3: Would you rather I call you Daddy in bed, or you call me Mommy?’

That got me coughing again, shaking my head and wiping at my eyes. It was a good thing we were playing this ‘game’ over text because I might not have survived her asking me these questions in person. I already felt like I could probably power a heat lamp with my cheeks, and I wasn’t even in front of her.

‘The only way we’re calling each other those things is after we have kids, and we ARE Daddy and Mommy,’ I texted her. And as soon as I’d sent it, I saw what I’d done and had a minor heart attack.

“Oh, fuck,” I grunted.

She sent me back a crying laughing emoji. ‘Not gonna lie, Beau, that’s fucking hot.’

‘I wasn’t trying to insinuate anything,’ I told her.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t ask if you have a breeding kink,’ she replied with a winking emoji, followed by a couple of laughing ones. ‘I need a ring before you start knocking me up anyways :P’

I tried to figure out how to reply to that particular mess of hot-button topics, but the next picture came in. The shorts were down at her knee, baring her perfect ass cheeks and thighs completely, including the little diamond gap at her crotch as she leaned over the kitchen island slightly. She’d pulled up the back of her shirt, and the white elastic of the thong around her hips was clearly visible; it was the same one she’d been wearing in the TikTok video she’d made earlier that the guys and I had watched. Now it was snuggled up tightly between her ass cheeks, and instead of a tantalising angle looking at it without really seeing all that much, I was being given a direct view.

‘Question #4: It’s your birthday and I’ve promised you something special. Is it a threesome with one of my hot friends, or is it anal?’

‘You are killing me with these, Darlin,’ I texted her.

‘Show me.’

I grunted, shaking my head, and threw caution to the wind and sent her a picture of the tenting currently going on in my slacks.

Her reply was a blushing and a sweating emoji, and then another picture. She was pulling her ass cheeks apart lewdly, showing off the thong just barely covering her most private parts.

‘I don’t do that move anywhere public, BTW :P,’ she followed up.

“Fuck,” I mumbled. “Fuck. Why, Amber?”

‘Answer the question Beau!’ she sent before I could send anything.

‘Sex isn’t something I would want to use for birthday presents,’ I told her honestly. ‘Birthdays are for celebrating, not trying new things. If you wanted to try a threesome or anal, we’d make it special by itself for both of us.’

‘How the hell are you not married and drowning in kids already?’ she asked as a reply. Then another picture came through, and the thong had started making the same journey that her shorts had. Her ass was split horizontally by the stretched elastic, the upper half of her ass looking like a pair of tits getting thrust up and out by a heavy-duty push-up bra.

‘You don’t need to reward me like this, Darlin,’ I said, feeling a clawing feeling travelling up my spine. I didn’t want her to stop, but the amount she was giving to me here felt like a lot. Too much.

‘I know, Beau,’ she replied, along with a kissing emoji. ‘Question #5: What’s scarier to say for you, the big L-word, or ‘Yes, you can try pegging me?’’

I snorted and coughed again. ‘The pegging one,’ I answered. ‘Not my thing, Amber. At all.’

‘:P Good.’

In the next picture, the thong was down around her knees just like her shorts, though I noticed now that she’d disposed of the shorts at some point. Likely so she could actually move around her kitchen while she was doing whatever she was doing. Her bare ass was pointed at the camera, a thin impression of where the elastic had been digging into her skin still striping across both cheeks.

I’d seen her ass naked already. Hell, I’d had my face pressed right up between those fantastic buns, but getting this picture, knowing that it was for me when her whole job and life was fueled by coming up to but not crossing this line…

‘Last question,’ she texted. ‘We fuck like crazy tomorrow every chance we get and never see each other again, or we don’t have sex at all tomorrow but we make plans for the future?’

I swallowed hard.

‘I’ll answer, but I want to know your answer to the other questions,’ I told her.

She sent a smirking emoji by itself, then followed it up a minute later. ‘Mutual toe sucking, Schoolgirl kilts look bomb on me so I’ll wear them around randomly, so Nun is a lot more costumey fun, your answer on Daddy/Mommy was hot as fuck so that, threesomes and anal aren’t birthday presents, they’d be regular facets of a healthy sex life with my future hubby, and the L-word is scarier for me, but hearing Pegging FROM my partner for the first time would be way scarier.’

I blew out a long breath. We were walking such a thin fucking line with this conversation. It was a knife’s edge away from talking about a relationship, but we’d agreed this was…

I wasn’t even sure any more.

I also knew my answer to her last question wasn’t fair because Alexis was here. Now. And she was coming back. Either way, if I denied myself this weekend, or had one wild day with Amber and then moved on, Alexis was an option again.

‘Future plans,’ I told Amber. ‘I’m a fisher and a hunter. I can be patient for the prize, Darlin. And you’re the real prize.’

She sent me a Chef emoji and a Kissing emoji, which took me a second to realise meant ‘chef’s kiss’, but the picture didn’t come through as fast as the others. I waited almost a full three minutes from the emojis being sent, and was trying to decide what the hell I should say, unsure how to respond.

Then the file came through and started to load, and it wasn’t a picture at all.

“Oh, fuck, Rudy,” Amber moaned loudly at the top of the short clip. She was bent over her kitchen island completely, her ass pointed right at the camera, and her fingers were visible between her thighs and cheeks. She was fingering herself. “God, Beau, I want your cock in me.” She raised one knee high, her ass pinching slightly into an even nicer, firmer cleavage as she propped that knee up on the edge of the counter and gave me an even clearer view of her fingers sawing in and out of her pussy. “Fuck, Rudy, I wanna come on your cock so bad.”

The clip ended, and restarted, and I tapped to pause it as I swallowed hard. My tongue felt like it had grown about ten inches longer and wanted to loll out of my mouth like a dog or else I’d start choking on it.

Daring, sexy nudes had felt like I was being trusted with a sacred relic of Amber, something I needed to treasure and guard. This? I wasn’t even sure what to make of this. If I leaked this, if it got out there, it would blow up her entire career. She could probably survive her boob or even that bent-over picture leaking, but that last one?

No one would be satisfied with the cockteasing non-nude stuff she did if that got out. It would be doing full, softcore porn and more, or nothing, from that point forward.

I didn’t know what to say, what to send her. How was I supposed to react to that?

So I called her.

Nothing I could text would be meaningful enough, or deal with my horny confusion, to my satisfaction.

“Too much?” Amber answered her phone, and I could practically hear her blushing, but also her knowing, stubborn smile.

“That depends,” I said, my tongue still feeling thick in my mouth. “Are you absolutely sure you want me to have that, or is your vagina doing the talking because you’re as blue-balled right now as I am by this morning?”

“... That’s a good point,” Amber said. “But the fact that you’re even asking me that makes me feel like I want you to have it.”

“God, Darlin, I’m so fucking hard for you right now,” I groaned.

“If you were here, you’d slip right in, Beau,” she moaned breathily. “I’m like a fucking slip ‘n slide right now.”

“Fuck,” I grunted, just imagining grabbing Amber by the hips and pushing my cock into her until her ass was pressed up against me.

“Wait,” she gasped. “Wait. Just- OK. Let’s not.”

“Not?” I asked.

“You were jerking off, right?”

“Um, no?” I said. Was I supposed to be?

“... Really?”

“I mean, I’m fucking thinking about it, but I wasn’t calling you with my dick in my hand, Darlin’,” I said. “That sounds rude and perverted.”

“Rudy,” Amber said, and it sounded like she’d stood up or something and was moving around. “I cannot tell you how hot it is to hear that you think it’s rude to do that, even after knowing what I was doing. The number of messages I get from people talking about how they are jerking off to me is absurd.”

“So, when you tell me that, you’re trying to make my cock go soft, right?” I murmured.

She snorted and chuckled. “No, sorry, but I can see why it would,” she said. “Um- OK, maybe that was TMI, especially after you found out about all my stuff earlier. Just FYI, I don’t actually read all of those messages - I pay a service to screen my messages on my platforms. Anything where someone is sending me a dick pic, talking about fucking me, or soliciting me for sex, gets filtered out, and I just get a report about how many they filtered that day.”

“Every day?” I asked, a little incredulous.

“Pervs gonna perv, Beau,” Amber sighed. “Anyways, me saying wait was to say that maybe we shouldn’t have phone sex right now since you have the rehearsal and everything. If we’re doing something, I want to take my time with you. And the anticipation… Mmm, fuck.”

I let out a long sigh, shaking my head. Tens of millions. Even if she got one hundred filthy, pervy messages in a day, that was what, 0.001% of her fanbase? Less, since it was multiple tens of millions. 

‘Red flags are flying,’ I could hear Ed saying in the back of my mind.

And yet, the way my heart was hammering in my chest, the way her voice sent tingles down my spine…

“Alright,” I agreed with her. “No phone sex. No masturbating.”

“No masturbating,” she agreed, a giggly grin on her lips. “When is the rehearsal?”

I looked over at the clock and grunted loudly. “Fuck, in fifteen minutes,” I said. “And I still need to finish getting ready and make sure all the groomsmen are going to be there.”

“OK, you go,” Amber chuckled. “And I promise I’ll keep my hands off of myself.”

“You do realise you’re an absolute siren, right?” I asked her. “I feel like I’m some traveller walking by the river, and you’re trying to get me to come out into the water, and I’m not quite sure if you’re going to drown me or not.”

“Guess you’ll just have to take that risk, Beau,” she said warmly.

“I just might,” I growled.

“Have a good rehearsal,” she said.

“Have a good evening,” I replied. “Be good.”

“Mmmm,” she moaned. “Don’t tease me like that.”

We were both laughing when we hung up, and I tossed my phone on the bed and looked around my empty hotel room. That was the weirdest, most sexually charged conversation I might have ever had on the phone. It was definitely the most sexting I’d ever done. I felt like I was pent up with energy and had nowhere to put it.

Shrugging off the short-sleeved shirt I’d taken the picture in for Amber earlier, I pulled on the long-sleeved one she said I should wear and started buttoning it up, shaking my head. What a confusing fucking day.

Chapter 11

The hotel had done a pretty good job of setting things up for the rehearsal dinner. I hadn’t noticed it earlier, but they had moving walls that could slide out and create an entirely separate room in the same space where we’d had our separate brunch section that morning.

The rehearsal itself had been an agonisingly slow affair. First, I had needed to wrangle Ed and Paul, who had been down at the pool two minutes before we were supposed to be leaving. Then, since I was apparently one of the few sober members of the wedding party or extended family, I played Ride Coordinator so that we could get everyone who needed to be there over to the church. When I made the final trip myself, with Ed, Paul and Juliette in my truck with me, I had the lovely revelation that Jeannie’s aunt had decided to drive an entire panel van worth of decorations over when she’d very much not been in shape to drive. I ended up confiscating the keys, and the groomsmen all helped unload the decor into the church before we could start with the rehearsal.

Thankfully, leaving the church once we were done there, I now had the panel van to shove people into as needed and Yvonne, Jeannie’s last bridesmaid, had finally made her first appearance of the weekend as her husband watched their kids at home, so we had an additional vehicle with her. We got everyone back. Probably. I was at least pretty sure the beleaguered Pastor and I had made sure we’d gotten everyone out of the building before he locked it up for the night.

“Thanks, Rudy,” Curtis said with a tired smile as I walked into the hotel lobby, my shoulders tense and my patience wearing thin. Getting The Dads to listen to me during the ‘On The Way’ organising had been annoying. Getting The Moms to listen on the way back, in my truck, had been even worse. 

“Who the hell decided tequila by the pool this afternoon was a good idea?” I asked him.

Curtis snorted, shaking his head. “Probably Grandma,” he smirked. “She comes back from Mexico every year with a case of it. I heard she smuggled at least a few bottles up to her room earlier.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I grunted.

“Hey, listen,” he said, hugging me around the shoulders. He was dressed in a suit, though it was already looking a little worn with all the hugging he was doing since he’d gotten dressed in it. Rough, tipsy hugging. “So, apparently, it’s assigned seating for this, and my Aunt Cheryl did the whole thing for Jeannie like weeks ago. So you’re sitting with-”

“Alexis,” I guessed.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Is that OK? Like, with everything earlier and stuff?”

“It’s fine, Curt,” I assured him, though I didn’t necessarily feel it. The real answer was It’s Complicated. “Here, come on.” I stood him up straight and fixed his jacket, making sure the collar was flat and he looked presentable.

“Thanks, my guy,” he said, then pulled me into another big, hard hug. “Love you, bro.”

“Love you too, buddy,” I grunted, giving him a good squeeze back before we headed into the restaurant and back to our private space.

Aunt Cheryl had gone all out with her assigned job, and the space looked great with a sort of spring colours theme. Not wanting to be too much like the actual reception the next day, the tables were just three long lines, with Curtis and Jeanette at the top of the middle table and the family and wedding party spread out in what seemed to be an attempt to spread the love. I did note that Ed, as the official Best Man, was sitting beside Curtis with his wife Charlise next to him, while Bobby-Jo was sitting up next to Jeanette’s as the Maid of Honour, with one of Jeannie’s single cousins sitting next to her. Aunt Cheryl’s son, if you were keeping track of who was who correctly.

“Oi vey,” I grunted under my breath, shaking my head. Someone was trying to play matchmaker, and you would have guessed Cheryl if it weren’t for the fact that Alexis caught your eye and gestured you over to the seat next to her.

She looked fucking good, but you only shot her a quick nod and smile so she knew you’d seen her, then circled around the whole set-up, heading towards Curt and Jeannie.

“You guys good?” I asked as I stooped next to them. “Need anything?”

“We’re good, Rudy,” Jeanette said, beaming happily as she was surrounded by friends and family. She grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “Thank you for doing the driving thing.”

“Of course,” I said, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I didn’t get to say it earlier; you look great.”

“You’re looking pretty sexy yourself,” she grinned, and let go of your hand to tug on the open V of your partially unbuttoned shirt with one finger. “Who gave you style tips? And did you do something different with your hair? Doesn’t he look different, Bobby?”

“He looks like he’s trying to fuck,” Bobby said, just a little too loud and getting some glares for vulgarity and laughs in equal measure. The look she shot me was pointed and teasing, and reminded me of the wall of texts she'd inundated me with during my afternoon nap. I just rolled my eyes as the tipsy bride and maid of honour started giggling at me. I had no doubt that Jeannie had been part of texting those messages now.

“Good?” I asked, pivoting to Curtis.

“I’m good, dude,” he said, already another half-beer in somehow. 

I nodded, giving him a pat on the shoulder as I squeezed behind him, leaning past Ed to Charlise, who had been eyeing me. “Hey, Charlie,” I said, leaning in and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Good to see you.”

“You too, Rudy,” she said, reaching out and weaving her fingers with mine for a second and giving me a meaningful look. “Talk later?”

“Sure,” I agreed.

“Has Ed been a good boy?”

“Me? What would I do?” Ed asked.

Charlie smirked knowingly.

“Rudy’s the one banging a-”

“That’s enough, dear,” Charlie shut him up with a sharp look, then turned her attention back to me. “Later,” she nodded and confirmed.

It would be good to catch up with Charlie, though it was probably going to hurt, too. She’d been my sister’s best friend through middle school and high school, and was probably the first person in line after me and my parents who were still missing Mel the most.

I swallowed that little moment down and cleared my throat as I backed away from Curtis and Jeanette as his Dad and one of the servers came towards them, likely to handle something about the group bill or getting the service started. I’d done enough that afternoon already, I decided, and let myself leave it to them to figure out since it wasn’t going to come to any sort of disaster.

Skirting back around the tables, I was stopped by a couple of other people for quick hellos, asking where I’d been that afternoon, and where ‘That pretty thing who you were with this morning’ was. I swallowed those last ones down as well, explaining she was a friend and would be at the wedding tomorrow, and finally got around to my assigned seat as the servers were bringing out wine bottles. That was probably what Curt’s Dad had been arranging.

Alexis stood as I was approaching, pushing her chair in to let me by her, and I grunted under my breath again.

She’d done something to her hair, and it was even wavier than normal, cascading in rich brunette locks down around her shoulders and back. Her dress was cream coloured with navy fleur de lis patterned on it, and looked like it could have been a simple summer dress on most people. On her, with her height, the fact that it fell high on her long legs, and with the gold necklaces, earrings and bracelets she was wearing, it looked daring and elegant. ‘Semi-fancy’ for sure. And that didn’t even account for the strappy, matching heels she was wearing that brought her right up to your height, or the fact that the cut of the dress very much accented the significant cleavage she was showing.

“Always the hero, Scrappy-Doo,” she said with a big smile as I finally got close to her.

(Chapter to be continued)