There were more brunettes than blondes this time, which made Ninneman happy.
Noway announced the entertainment for the evening and pointed to the doorway as nubile and beautiful and sexually ripe young women (and a few guys, mostly for Dupette and Keithwood) came parading out. They were all completely naked save for satin sashes that had the Google logo printed on them with a festive smiling birthday cake emoji. All of them were 19 years of age — no more, no less.
There was a large multicolored wheel set up on the stage that people would get to spin. Written on each of the colored wedges was a dare involving one of the naked 19 year olds. Everyone lined up to play. There was food and drink, only the swankiest and most expensive brands.
Dupette and Keithwood were soon over by the diamond punch fountains chatting up a tight-looking little brunette twink with a bodacious ass that was just begging to be railed.
Ninneman himself had a great time — one of the blondes came over and sat on his lap and asked him what he did. He said he was in charge of an engineering division and left it at that — these kids wouldn’t ever understand what it was he actually did.
(Truthfully, he sat in his office and went on Reddit and obsessively checked his stocks and bank accounts, but he’d never admit that to anyone)
The blonde told him she wanted to see Aruba and Ninneman said he’d just have to show her later that night, then. He’d call some numbers and have the jet ready to fly within an hour — a time frame he knew lot of his co-workers were jealous of.
“Once we’re there I can show you the Serenity,” he said.
“My yacht. 300 footer. You’ll love it. Lil Wayne rented it from me for one of his videos.”
“Oh my God,” said the blonde, holding out a hand and touching him on the chest. Her nipples were perfect and Ninneman wanted very much to lick them. “Did you name it after the ship on that Joss Whedon series?”
He grinned, showing lots of expensive dental work, and nodded.
She squealed with delight. He’d known she would love that. These young Millennials just loved their nostalgic intellectual properties.
“OMG, I love Firefly!” she exclaimed.
“My daughter loves it too,” said Ninneman. “She’s the one who named it.”
“How old’s your daughter?”
“She’s in her mid-twenties. She’s at U of M gettnig her master’s in pharmacology.”
“Wow,” said the blonde. “I’d like to get my degree in education or social work but I can’t decide where to go yet.”
“You’ll figure it out,” said Ninneman. He squeezed her ass.
He was having a blast until he looked over and saw Noway with the Baby Girl.
She was absolutely stunning — just enough innocence to give the sullen look on her face an irresistible, barely-concealed naughtiness. Her lips were bowed, her eyes dark and melancholy, her cheeks freckled and her hair lank and straight. She sat next to Noway with terrible posture, his arm draped around her rounded shoulders. She was adorable.
All of a sudden the blonde on his lap seemed bland and boring. Ninneman hadn’t even bothered to ask her name.
“Sorry, I have to go,” he said, gently removing the blonde as she babbled on about why she wanted to work with people for a living and how much she enjoyed helping them.
The blonde wasn’t upset at all, chirping, “Oh, okay, bye then!” and scooching right over to the next table, taking a seat on Smellings’ lap. She was accepted with open arms.
Ninneman walked right over to Noway and his lovely young find.
Last year they’d had a naked 18 year old party for the company’s 18th birthday. Ninneman had gotten shit-faced on 200 dollar a bottle wine and fingered a thick little redhead in front of the whole crowd. He’d played Spin the Wheel and licked chocolate and peanut butter and cocaine out of her armpits, navel and buttcrack. Later that night he fucked her in the ass on one of the meeting tables. Then he’d taken her to Rome.
The year before there had been naked 17 year olds, but only the higher level execs (Ninneman included) were invited to that one. There had apparently been ones with younger teens in the years prior, but Ninneman hadn’t been invited to those.
“Hey,” he said to Noway when he’d made it across the room. “I think your wife is looking for you.”
“Oh, fuck me,” said Noway, rolling his eyes. “Take care of this little troublemaker for me, will you?”
“That’s why I came over here,” said Ninneman, looking right down at Baby Girl and locking eyes with her. She regarded him with her sullen expression and he felt the beginnings of an anticipatory erection stir in his bowels.
“So,” he said, sitting right down and pulling her close. “Where do you want to go?”
The girl rolled her eyes, in thought or in derision Ninneman couldn’t tell. He had a pleasant buzz going, and he wasn’t going to let anyone harsh it, by God.
“Puerto Rico,” she said finally, jumping right into the game with him, getting it, sharp as a pin. “Haven’t been to Puerto Rico yet.”
“Puerto Rico?” he said. “Pfft.”
With his lip sputtering scoff, he saw a small gob of his saliva sail through the air and land smartly in the center of a half-full cocktail glass stained with purple lipstick.
He pretended he hadn’t noticed and kept talking.
“With all the hurricanes? You don’t want to be anywhere near the gulf right now.”
“No, but you know what’s really good?”
“Iceland. Most peaceful place you’ve ever been. Like another planet. I could take you there tonight.”
He traced a finger along her collarbone. She itched the spot like she was getting rid of a mosquito.
“Oh, really,” she said.
“Yeah, and when we’re there I’ll take you out on the Enterprise.”
“My yacht. It’s a 400 footer, you’ll love it. Shawn Mendes rented it for his spring break last year.”
“I was on a 500 footer last week,” said Baby Girl. “I’m not really interested in the sea.”
“Oh, well, I can totally understand,” said Ninneman. “It’s not for everyone.”
He looked around. Noway was gone. He’d kept his word.
Ninneman and Noway had an arrangement — Ninneman had done Noway a solid, taking the hit the previous fall when Noway’s wife had nearly discovered him with one of the mistresses he hadn’t told her about. Ninneman had stepped in and taken responsibility for why the 22 year old had been at their getaway cabin, and Noway had declared his undying allegiance to Ninneman’s well-being, a true Godfather moment.
“Next time we have a party, you know I always get the pick of the litter,” Noway had said.
“Right,” said Ninneman. He’d watched Noway waltz off with some of the most prime pussy money could buy over the years. He was green with envy.
“Next time, just come up to me and say, ‘Your wife is calling,’” Noway had said. “And she’s all yours.”
“This is why I’ll never get married,” Ninneman had told him. “Why would I trade in all these pretty fresh faces for one that’s just going to dry out over the years, and bleed me dry while she’s at it?”
“You’ll settle down sometime,” said Noway. “When the time is right and when you find someone who’ll appreciate the arrangement for what it is. Jennifer seems to think she’s special enough to tell me what to do. I’m divorcing her once my lawyers make sure I won’t get fucked over.”
Back in the present, Ninneman squeezed Baby Girl’s shoulder and beamed down at her.
“Well, we could just go on an adventure, then,” Ninneman said to her. “Come with me to Iceland right now and I’ll show you the time of your life. I’ll show you the volcanic rock. It’s seriously the most beautiful thing. We’ll skateboard through the hills like Ben Stiller in that one movie.”
Baby Girl shrugged.
“I was actually in Iceland a year ago — Elon took me and a bunch of my sorority sisters there for his birthday…”
Ninneman’s lip involuntarily curled at the name “Elon”. The guy’s talents were as fake as his hairline. He talked a big game but other than that he was dogshit. Barely above Jobs level of skill when it came to actual coding. And he’d only dated that psycho whore Amber Heard over a lost bet with Zuckerberg on whether or not she’d drive Johnny Depp crazy over their divorce.
“And come to think of it, Leo took me there when I was 16, too,” said Baby Girl, still looking bored. Ninneman wondered why the fuck she was even here, and he also wanted to be pelvis-deep in her as soon as possible. Her forced apathy and pouty face were beyond enticing.
“I’d be eskimo brothers with Musk and DiCaprio,” thought Ninneman. He couldn’t help but grin.
“We can do anything you like,” he said. “Where haven’t you been yet?”
The girl thought about it. Her nipples were perfect. Ninneman licked his lips.
“Antarctica,” she said after a minute, looking up at him with her sullen dark eyes.
He pinched her cheek and laughed. Her expression remained the same, her eyes like obsidian jewels. He wondered what ethnicity she was — she was olive skinned but had a typical Midwestern American accent. Greek descent, perhaps? Maybe a light-skinned third generation Middle Eastern American?
“Yeah,” she said. “I’ve never been there, an no one ever suggests it.”
He smiled. It was settled, then.
“I’ve never been there either,” he said. “But we have to go now.”
Baby Girl nodded and sipped her wine.
“I can make arrangements tonight but for something like that I don’t think we could leave right away. So if you want we could go to Argentina and wait for the word there? I’ll show you Eva Peron’s tomb, and if you want I might even be able to get us in to see her body.”
Baby Girl shrugged.
“Sure, that sounds good, I guess.”
Ninneman put his arms around her and kissed her cheek. She didn’t look at him.
“It’s settled, then,” he said, out loud.
Ninneman smiled to himself and looked around at all the streamers and cups and balloons strewn everywhere. The place was filled with middle-aged and thirtysomething guys in half-undone button-up shirts, cavorting with naked and half-naked 19 year olds, most of them female.
There were a few girls dancing with streamers for Smellings and a group of his cronies over by the spinning wheel. The blonde from before was now balanced on Smellings’ knee with her hand down Smellings’ pants, massaging his balls. The girls around him twirled and tossed the yellow and red streamers every which way, draping them over their hard nipples and running them through their legs.
“What is your name anyway?” Ninneman asked Baby Girl.
“Nice to meet you, Abby. I’m Joel.”
“So yeah, Antarctica. You know, it’s going to be changing quite a bit in the next few decades, so might as well get a look at it now. If you want, on the way back I could show you my emergency air strip and farm in New Zealand. Just bought it last year. Gotta have it for when all the peasants figure out how badly they’re getting fucked over.”
“Yeah, definitely,” said Abby. She sipped more wine.
Ninneman squeezed her shoulder and pulled her in. She leaned against him like he was a wall.
“Happy birthday to us,” Ninneman said.