Brewster's Brood - Pt. 35

Part Thirty-five

Danny Garney – 3/11/2017 – Sunday – 12:22 pm

“How are we looking, Danny?” Mrs. Churchill asked him on the phone. “I know Lynne’s been reporting a lot more activity for her scrambler to eat up, and that’s got me a little bit concerned.”

The ex-soldier sighed a little bit. “Yeah, well, I warned you this was a thing we were going to have to contend with, boss. The reason the scrambler’s picked up increased web activity around our boy is because his truck’s customer line looks like a goddamn fashion show, or an audition line to become a Victoria’s Secret model.”

He was seated among the benches, looking over at the line that had formed for Constant Rotation. There were plenty of Max’s regulars there, but interspersed with them were a giant collection of women in skimpy outfits showing large amounts of cleavage, belly, thigh and even ass. What was even more surreal was that while almost all of them were involved in the Brand Game, there were others who simply had gotten in on the action because of Fear of Missing Out, seeing so many attractive women all gathered in one place, figuring there had to be something they needed to get caught up in, even if they couldn’t quite work out what it was.

“Well, the last thing I want is some bitch who isn’t part of our game trying to muscle her way in to our man, because if he just knocks up some random girl who’s not part of our gang, she doesn’t fucking count, Danny, and you know this.”

Danny laughed. “What do you want me to do about it, boss? Put up a sign that says ‘Approved Sluts Only’ or something?”

“Do you think it would help?” Mrs. Churchill asked him in exasperation.

“No ma’am, I do not.”

“Tell me at least the bitches who aren’t on our list aren’t making moves on our boy,” she said.

“So far, they have not,” Danny confirmed. “I think they’re all under the impression that there’s some modeling talent scout around, or that maybe the Travers sisters are looking for body doubles for their next movie.”

“Let me guess – Brooklyn’s playing into that.”

“She’s denying it, which only seems to make everyone think it’s true that much more,” Danny said with a laugh. “Brooklyn’s said a number of times to people in line that if she wanted to show her tits off on camera, she’d do that, but she hasn’t yet, because no offer has been good enough. That’s enough to make everyone think it’s true.”

“So then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is Lynne’s algorithm keeps eating any Instagram posts mentioning the truck, and there’s only so many ‘technical glitches’ that people can have before they start complaining about how Instagram’s down.”

“So what Danny? Instagram’s down all the time.”

“The problem, boss, is that you stand a decent chance of some engineer from Instagram being here in this food truck caravan,” Danny said to her. “And that means they’re going to look into it.”

Mrs. Churchill let out a very heavy, deep sigh. “Why couldn’t this fucking guy have lived somewhere further away from Silicon Valley, somewhere much easier to run this game, someplace like Montana or some shit?”

“Because then it would’ve been ten times easier and way less fun, boss,” Danny told her.

“So you say.” There was a long pause on the other end of the line as Mrs. Churchill seemed to consider what her options were. “Okay. Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to use Liane to convince people there that you’re some top-secret Hollywood scouting type, but you need to be subtle about it, and you need to make sure Max doesn’t see it.”

“Aren’t we raising more questions than we’re answering, boss?”

“Absolutely,” Mrs. Churchill said to him. “That’s what we want. We want people confused, thinking maybe you’re doing something that has a film studio’s power behind it, and that’s what’s screwing up Instagram, like you’re worried about the shots for whoever it is you’re scouting getting uploaded to the Internet.”

“Shit like that doesn’t really happen, boss.”

“Of course it doesn’t, but people believe that it does, and that’s all we really care about. It’s just another lie we’re selling, except this one doesn’t have any specific buyers we have to get on board. We’re selling it to anyone who seems to be interested enough to listen.”

“I’ll see what I can do, boss, but I can’t guarantee it’ll work.”

“Danny. I don’t need it to work; I need it to feel possible. And you’ve got two hot celebrity actresses there, so that’ll help you sell the story,” Mrs. Churchill said. “I’ll text Brooklyn and Gwen and tell them to play along with it, to act like they know you but that they’re supposed to pretend like they don’t know you. That sort of mystery should sell the cover story a lot.”

“Okay,” Danny said. “I’ll tell Liane to hightail it over here, and we’ll set about pushing the legend and see if anyone bites.”

A few minutes later, Danny had finished texting Liane the story and she’d responded that she was on her way to the Moveable Feast location they were at, where she’d be ready to play her part to a tee. He watched the parade of beautiful women finally finish getting their food from Max’s truck, but it seemed like none of them wanted to leave, as if they were afraid that if they did, one of them would make a move on Max while they weren’t around.

One of the chefs from one of the other trucks in the circle, Grillaz Gone Wild, stepped out of his truck while he had a spare moment, stepping over to Danny. “So what the hell is over at Constant Rotation that’s got all these girls panties in a twist?” the chef asked him. “I want in on that action.”

“I imagine it’s just the aura of celebrity,” Danny told the overly rotund, tattooed man. “Once someone spotted the Travers sisters over there, everybody seems to think it’s some fucking talent scouting location or something.” Danny smirked at the guy. “I mean, hey, it’s nice eye candy at least, right?”

“As long as they’re spending money, I guess,” the chef admits. “I just wish they were spreading the wealth around a little bit. Rising tide is supposed to lift all boats, not just one.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Danny said.

“You responsible for this tits and ass parade?” he asked.

“Let’s just say I know the Travers sisters a bit, so I can’t say I’m responsible, but I could say I’m involved, I guess.”

“Well, involve them around to the other food trucks as well,” the chef snorts, “before we report Max for causing a ruckus and disturbing the business of the rest of us.”

“Will do,” Danny says with a mock salute, which seems to be good enough for the chef. He spends the next few minutes sending a message to all the girls in the game that if they’re going to stalk Danny while he’s at work, they need to spread the love around to all the other food trucks, because it’s starting to look suspicious.

A few minutes later, basically all the girls from the Brand Game hear their phones beeping, and they start to look down to see not only Danny’s message but the message from Mrs. Churchill, explaining what Danny’s cover there was going to be, and how it wouldn’t hurt if they were basically trying to show off a little to him, like they were auditioning to be models or nude body doubles, just to help keep their cover.

At that point, the vibe in the food truck court changed a little bit, and Danny let out a slight sigh of relief seeing that some of the women were starting to check in on other trucks, not everyone in a singular line for Constant Rotation. It made the whole place a lot less suspicious, and Danny figured it would help cover up things for a while, or at least extend the cover.

This whole exercise, Danny knew it wasn’t a question of if things would get overly complicated, but when. The audacity of this entire game was beyond anything imaginable, and they had to be prepared for things to get messy. Whether that was someone outside of the game finding out, or Max starting to get suspicious or something else completely unforeseen, who the hell knew what to prepare for, so they prepared for everything and anything.

Liane arrived, parking her bike in the parking lot off to the side before she moved over to Danny, a wry smile on her face, carrying with her a briefcase that she’d handcuffed to her wrist for whatever reason. She had traded out her leathers for a business suit, making his Amazonian Asian girlfriend look like the most powerful agent he’d ever seen, when she strolled over to him and smiled. “Did I overdo it?” she asked him, trying to hide her smile.

“Not at all, baby,” Danny said to her as she sat down across the picnic table from him. “Handcuffed briefcase might be a little over the top, though, but who cares?”

“I thought it would make you look very important, like you were the big dick on campus,” she said, pouting a little bit. “See, just watch everyone look over when I open it, hand you this manilla folder and then take it back from you.”

Sure enough, as soon as she unlocking the briefcase so that she could open it, most of the people in the area were looking over at them. She opened the briefcase and took out a manilla folder, holding it out to him. As he opened it, there was only a single sheet of paper in it. On it was a detailed description of what Liane was thinking of doing to him right now, in quite graphic and explicit detail, as Danny did his best to keep his face even and expressionless, but he was more than a little surprised how randy Liane had apparently gotten just from watching Max’s streams, and how filthy her mind was when she got that worked up. He would occasionally glance up, seeing Liane trying to remain impassive, but the impish grin still peeking out of the corners of her lips. When he’d finished reading the document – twice – he closed the folder and put it back inside of the briefcase, where Liane locked it up again.

“Think you’d be willing to do all that to me?” Liana asked him quietly.

“You know me, baby,” Danny chuckled. “Shy of pissing, shitting and pegging, I’m down for just about anything as long as it makes you happy.”

“See, you’ve never even tried pegging and you’re still crossing it out,” she teased.

“Did you really want to peg me?” Danny asked her, tilting his head to one side.

“Not in the slightest,” she giggled. “But I just wanted to know that I could if I wanted to.”

“You know, for you? I might even consider it.”

“Awww,” she laughed. “That’s so sweet. It could be like my Valentine’s Day present.”

“And what are you gonna get me?”

“I dunno, you can bang my best friend Becky while I’m there? That sound fair?”

“I thought you said Becky wasn’t into me,” Danny teased back.

“Becky’s my bitch, babe,” Liane laughed. “She’s into whatever the fuck I tell her she’s into. If I tell her to lay down and use her ankles for earmuffs for you, she’s gonna fucking do it and thank me for it later.”

“Why would she thank you for it?”

“Because you’re the best fuck I know, baby, and she’s a jealous little slut. Not that she’d say that.” Liane paused. “Although I bet I could make her say it before you fucked her.”

“Are we done exchanging hypothetical Valentine’s Day gifts that neither one of us asked for?”

Liane stuck her tongue out a little bit. “Be more adventurous, Danny.”

“Look at what I do for a living, Liane.”

“Touche.”

Max Brewster – 3/11/2017 – Sunday – 2:35 pm

It had been a very hectic day, although thankfully in the afternoon, it had started to peter out. By two o’clock, most of the food trucks were winding down from the lunch rush, and finally it wasn’t starting to feel like they’d ambushed a fashion shoot somewhere, as Max spotted some of his regular customers in line, giving them a smile and a wave. One of the things he’d liked most about the truck having regular stops was that he’d gotten regular customers, people who had been coming out week after week for his food, several of them having made a point to learn his name and to give him theirs, offering thoughts about the options on the menu and even providing inspiration from time to time.

The Travers sisters had decided to stick around, although they’d done their best to try and camouflage their presence in the area, something that had proven easier said than done, as even with the large hats and massive sunglasses, people would still sometimes wander over and ask for an autograph or a selfie.

Max also spotted a couple of other girls from Ironwood hanging around, although it seemed like in most cases, they were trying to avoid him seeing them, as if maybe he would think they were being clingy or following him around, which it sure seemed like they were.

Jenny and Kelly had both shown up to help him clean up the truck, something he hadn’t asked them to do, but he couldn’t deny that cleanup went much faster with more hands working on it. He’d also felt Kelly’s hand on his ass every so often, as if she enjoyed teasing him.

He felt like he needed to figure out what was going on, because he had thought that Jenny and Kelly hadn’t entirely gotten along when he first saw the two of them together, but now they were giggling and laughing like a pair of schoolgirls, and he was almost halfway certain he saw them sneak a kiss with one another out of the corner of his eyes.

Once the truck was fully packed up, it was time to take it over to the brothers, but none of the girls seemed to want to get out of the truck, Jenny, Kelly, Gwen and Brooklyn all wanting to ride with Max to where he needed to drop off the truck.

“I can’t fit all of you on the bike,” he said with a laugh as the truck slipped off the freeway and headed towards the brother’s house.

“Don’t worry,” Brooklyn insisted. “I’ll call us an Uber Black to pick us up and take us wherever we want to go.”

“Okay,” Max said, deciding it was less trouble to agree than it was to argue. During the drive over towards the brothers’ house, Kelly looked over and grinned as she felt empowered to ask Max a question.

“Have you ever fucked in here, Max?”

“IN the truck?” he laughed. “No. Against the truck, sure, a couple of times. But inside the truck would be unhygienic.”

“Always the practical man,” Jenny said. “I can respect that, even if I don’t agree.”

“You want to go to Ironwood?” Brooklyn asked as Max pulled the van up alongside of the brother’s house.

“God, not tonight,” Max sighs. “Tomorrow I’ll be back and good enough to get another round in, but tonight, we need to just go somewhere and cut loose for a bit.”

“Don’t look at us,” Gwen said with a laugh. “We’re just tourists. Kelly?”

“Um,” the girl giggled. “I could give you a tour of Berkeley’s campus, but somehow I don’t think that’s going to be all that cool.”

“I’ve got an idea of a place we could go to,” Jenny said with a smile and a laugh. “But you’re going to have to trust me, Max, because if you don’t, this is going to get real weird real fast.”

“Oh, I’ll trust you,” Max said as the six of them hopped out of the van. He tossed the keys to Frankie. “You’ll get the van squared away and get it set up for them, right?”

Frankie nodded. “I can take the motorcycle back, then?”

Max grinned, seeing Frankie’s excitement at the thought that he would finally be allowed to drive the motorcycle that he’d rarely been allowed to drive before, and never without Max in the sidecar. “Yeah, that’s fine,” Max told him. “As long as you don’t wreck it.”

“I won’t!” Frankie replies quickly. “Thanks Max! I’ll see you in a couple of days!” And then Frankie scurried up back inside of the van to start to prep things for the brothers to know about the new items on the menu. Normally Max would do that himself, but Frankie seemed to eager to get Max out of there that Max just wanted to leave, as he saw a black Escalade with an Uber light up in the front window.

“That’s our ride,” Jenny says. The five of them hopped into the Escalade and Max was almost glad to see that the driver was a big burly dark-skinned man, and not another scantily clad woman.

“895 O’Farrell Street, right?” the driver asked in a thick, African accent.

“That’s right,” Jenny said. “How’s business going today?”

For much of the drive, Jenny and the driver, who’s name was Mohammed, chatted about what kind of drives he’s had and Max was starting to think that Jenny felt more like a local than a tourist, but wasn’t sure if he should ask about it, but he couldn’t think of a way to bring it up without starting an accusation. It was just very odd how much she seemed to know about the area.

When the SUV pulled up on O’Farrell Street, Max saw they had pulled in front of what looked like a movie theater, as the women in the car started getting out, dragging him along before he could even get a good look at the place or where they were going into.

But within moments, he suddenly knew exactly what kind of location they were at. There was a quote on the wall that he saw which made him swallow a breath of air nervously. “The Carnegie Hall of sex in America,” the sign said, attributed to the writer Hunter S. Thompson.

They were at the Mitchell Brothers O’Farrell Strip Club, a place known for having all sorts of wild encounters, the place where the police would raid from time to time when people went too far. The history of place was rife with stories of sex, drugs and rock’n’roll. In fact, Thompson, considered the father of Gonzo Journalism, had been the manager there for a time in the 1980s.

It was the sort of place where people could get away with just about anything.

One of the women must’ve paid their admissions because they were all ushered straight into the building, although maybe they’d just assumed Max was the company of some dancers on their day off. But before he knew it, he found them being pulled into the large main room and then over to one corner, pushing Max into a booth, two women snuggling in on him on either side, Jenny and Brooklyn to the left of him, Kelly and Gwen to the right.

“I’m not gonna fuck a stripper tonight,” Max said to Kelly.

“Of course you aren’t, Max,” Kelly giggled. “You’re going to fuck one of us while a stripper watches and cheers you on.”

“Wait, what? Really?”

“There’s no rules against patrons touching each other back in those private booths, so why not?” Kelly purred, nibbling on his earlobe. “C’mon, live a little.”

“I’ve been living a whole lot lately,” Max groaned. “But I thought we were going to have a night without sex.”

“Just one person, Max,” Kelly said to him. “Prove to all of us big strong girls that you can handle whatever we throw at you.”

“I’m in a strip club with four girls, all of whom I’m fucked, all of whom know that I’ve fucked them, and all of whom want me to fuck them again,” Max said, laughing more and more as he started to talk through it all. “How much more do I have to go through before I’ve proven I can handle anything you want to throw at me?”

“Oh, we’ll see what you say when that number goes from four to forty…” Kelly giggled, and as much as Max wanted to think she was kidding, there was something about the tone that told him she wasn’t, and that frightened him a little bit.

It had been a while since Max had been in a strip club, and when he’d gone, it had almost always been completely by himself, although the last time it had been with Frankie and a couple of Frankie’s cousins. Needless to say, this wasn’t going to be a normal night. He’d noticed all the dancers had turned to look at him as soon as he’d come into the club, and the fact that he already had four women in his booth seemed to suggest the dancers weren’t at all sure how to approach him.

Eventually, a blonde named ‘Vixen’ approached the table with a sort of hot-girl-next-door look, dressed in a leopard print thong and a big loose semi-sheer shirt hanging over a bikini top. “You looking for a drink, cowboy, or a dance?”

“He’s looking for someone to take us into a private booth and to get paid to hold the camera for a few minutes,” Gwen said confidently to Vixen. The stripper looked at Gwen, seeming to recognize her, before she nodded.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Vixen said, “assuming you’ve got cash.”

Gwen reached into her purse and pulled out five one hundred dollar bills, folding them in half before tugging Vixen’s shirt up enough so that she could tug the bills into the front of Vixen’s thong. “Sorted,” Gwen said proudly.

Vixen motioned for the group to follow them, and the five of them slipped out from the booth and started making their way towards the back rooms, pulling them down a sticky hallway before opening one set of curtains, pushing them in one at a time into a private circular booth with velvet lined seats and a small knee high table right in the center of it.

Max almost felt like a prop, as he was pushed down onto the bench, as Jenny slumped into the bench on one side of him, Kelly on the other. Gwen moved to stand in front of him and snapped her fingers at him, so he looked at her curiously before she used her words.

“Phone. Now.”

Max reluctantly pulled his phone from his pocket, unlocking the cell phone for her. Gwen opened the camera app and turned it to video recording, before handing it to Vixen. “Film this,” Gwen told her. “Film all of it.”

The exotic dancer nodded, holding the camera in both hands, pointing it at Max before Gwen reached over and pulled it so the camera was pointed at her. “My name’s Gwendolyn Travers, and I’m here with my sister, Brooklyn. I’m making this video for our friend Max Brewster, just for his own private consumption, unless he wants to do something else with it, in which case he’ll have to ask us for this.”

He could only hold his breath as he saw Gwen turn the camera to point at Brooklyn. “Gwen, what are you doing?” the redhead asked her sister.

“Brook, trust me on this,” Gwen said with a smile. “You see, Max, Brook’s never been willing to show her tits on camera before. She even has a body double during sex scenes. I think she’s afraid of it, so I want to give her the chance to overcome that fear.”

Brooklyn looked back at Max before her look of surprise almost turned into a look of delight, as if she’d decided she was going to run at that wall, she wanted to run full speed. “Oh, is that what we’re doing here?” she asked, giggling a bit. “Well, why didn’t you say so?”

Max held his breath a little bit, as he watched Brooklyn starting to peel her clothing off, lifting her shirt up and over her head, tossing it aside, revealing a very expensive green lacey bra that contrasted with her coppery colored hair.

She looked at him as Gwen pointed the camera to focus on him as Kelly and Jenny started caressing his face as Brooklyn danced over in his direction, swaying her hips back and forth before she moved to turn around, pointing her ass towards him as she slid it into his lap, grinding back against him. “I played an exotic dancer in a film once, you know, but all the close ups? The shots of bare ass? None of those were me.”

Brooklyn reached behind her and unclasped the hook of her very expensive bra. She pulled it off and cast it aside before spinning around, straddling Max’s lap, pressing her tits against his chest hard, shaking them against his face.

“How’s it feel?” Gwen asked her sister. “Freeing, right?”

“God, it’s thrilling,” Brooklyn said as she slid off his lap. “You’re going to have the only footage of my tits on film, Max, but I’m only just getting started.”

“Go get’em, girl,” Gwen purred.

The redhead’s next move was to kick off her boots and then peel off her pants, leaving her clad in a bright green thong, as she moved back to slide her ass into Max’s lap once more, grabbing his hands. “I’m not one of the girls here, Max,” she moaned. “You can touch me. I want you to touch me… I want you to do a whole lot more than that.”

Max laughed but then Jenny kissed him, and he wondered exactly how far they were going to take this, but as soon as he felt Brooklyn’s hands on his pants, pulling his cock out, and realized, they were going to take it exactly that far, as he heard Vixen gasp a little bit.

“You can’t get this in a club,” Brooklyn said, as she pulled her thong aside and straddled him, pushing his cock inside of her pussy as she groaned right into his ear. “But you can go off inside me.”

She ground her hips down hard onto his cock, which, even as exhausted as it was, was trying to give it a go, while she rested her back against Max’s chest, while each of her tits were being stroked by Jenny and Kelly’s hands.

“Tell him you want it, Brook,” Gwen said.

“C’mon, Max. Please? Cum inside of me.”

There was only so much resistance he could put up, and Brooklyn cut through it like it wasn’t even there, her face pressed against his ear, moaning as she came when he did.

He was still half-way dazed by the orgasm when he heard Vixen’s voice speak.

“Shit, now I kinda wanna fuck him…”