Growing into the Job, Post 534: Retail Therapy, p8

“Total Female Domination,“ said the woman before the crowd, to a chorus of cheers, hoots and hollers, “of the commercial real estate market.”

Let me catch you up, dear reader.

We’d arrived at the panel discussion a bit late. Josie had insisted we stop in a jewelry store to buy some steel earrings she thought would be perfect for Marisela, and Lakshmi had needed to use the restroom. So, it was a bit after 2:30 by the time we’d arrived at Atrium 2, which was at the end of a side corridor of this new Vendare Center. People were already in their seats - and when I mean people, I mean women. Glancing around as I was ushered to my folding chair, to sit in between Lakshmi and Aubrey, I noticed that besides a few small children with young mothers, I was the only male face in the crowd of maybe fifty people. The panelists were also all female and already seated up on the raised platform at the front of the crowd, at a long table with a large screen - currently with a large “Vendare Group” logo - behind them. There were five women up there, but of course the one that first caught my eye was the middle-aged blonde with the perfectly coiffed hair, incandescent smile and big knockers all but bursting from the glittery bustier she wore under her smart white blazer.

Sheryl.

Sheryl, in fact, was currently being introduced to the crowd. She was the third, after two others. The moderator - maybe the events director of the center, and a fine looking woman herself, was presenting Sheryl as “a leader in business and office space real estate”. She described her career not only as an attorney and acquisitions consultant for a number of corporations and groups, including the Vendare Group, but as a budding real estate magnatel herself. Some of the companies she was listed as being associated with I recognized, some I did not. She had apparently also recently been named to the new mayor's Special Counsel on Urban Strategy, whatever that was - news to me. It was the rundown of her current properties, though, that widened my eyes the most. Of course there was the Far Horizons building, which I thought was - along with some investments in other smaller office spaces - the basic extent of her portfolio. Yikes, was I wrong. Apparently since I’d last bothered to ask her about it, she’d acquired several other properties, a couple even bigger than the Far Horizons park, and was well on the way to adding more. 

As the moderator continued her polished introduction of my ex-wife, words like ‘visionary’, ‘strategist’, and ‘mogul’ swirling somewhere above my head, my glance was drawn back to Sheryl - she’d crossed her legs under the panel table and my eyes went to the fit calves of her tan legs. Her fingers were laced lightly on the tabletop, her white blazer gleamed under the lights, and the sparkle of the jeweled bustier beneath it was dazzling. God, she’d become gorgeous, I realized, at the same time I saw she was already looking at me.

Not just looking at me, but seeing me.

For the briefest moment, our gazes locked across the room. Her lips didn’t move, but everything I needed to know was right there in her expression and a quick flash in her eyes. She’d obviously spotted me, knew exactly where I was seated. I could see it in her face: a calm, polished pride…and something else. A faint, knowing flicker. She was listening to the words being spoken about her - her growing portfolio, her influence, her role in reshaping the real estate power structure of the city - and watching me hear them too. Watching me absorb what she’d become. Not just a power broker, but a nascent power unto herself. 

A quiet heat climbed up my neck.

It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t jealousy. It wasn’t even regret. It was something harder to define, a sort of silent reckoning, the weight of realization settling in: how far she’d gone, how much further she was going…and how much smaller I seemed in comparison.

It was as if - god no, please no no no - I felt myself shrinking right there, right there, seated in the center of this crowd of towering women. No, no no no! My heart jumped, started to race when I realized what was possibly happening. The feeling was subtle but it was acute. It was a similar experience to what happened at lunch, this past Sunday, with Melissa and Randi while we signed our new contracts.The world seemed, by just the smallest fraction, to grow around me, and the icy shiver in my bones was a sensation I knew too well. Fuck please this can not be happening not here not in front of-

Just then though was when I felt the warmth of a hand slide into mine.

Aubrey, seated beside me on my right, didn’t even say a word,. She didn’t need to. Still gazing attentively at the speaker, serene, her fingers had gently wrapped around mine and guided them into her lap, resting them there like she was sheltering something fragile. I felt the soft pressure of her palm holding me still, anchoring me, calming me, and the warmth of her woman’s thigh through the soft, ribbed fabric of her sweater dress’ skirt. A quiet current of reassurance ran up through her skin and into mine. She’d taken my hand like a young mother silently calming a frightened child, and under her succor I let the chilled sensation of a shrinking pass. 

But Sheryl saw that, too.

I saw the small lift at the corner of her mouth. A little bit cruel, a little bit mocking, but more just…observant, as if she were cataloging the moment in real time. Did she just see me shrink?? Or was she merely watching me sitting with three young women being comforted, coddled, protected from the scary world around me. Protected from her, up there, on stage.

For her own part, Aubrey said nothing, and as I looked up to her face her attention was still focused intently on the speaker, who’d now moved on to introduce the next panelist. Had Aubrey noticed me shrink? Had I really shrunk at all, or was it just my imagination and crippling sense of humiliation wrecking havoc with my sense of reality? Whatever it was, I knew she’d sensed my acute feelings of inferiority, and was giving me solace with her warm hand, her soft lap. 

I drew a deep breath, tried my best to put from my mind the last few moments, and settled my own attention back up to what was going on onstage. Still, nagging at the back of my mind: I should not have bagged out of my endocrinology appointment earlier. The thought turned my stomach, but I was trying now to refocus. 

“Are you okay, Dr. J?” came Lakshmi’s voice in my left ear. She’d leaned in to whisper, and now looked into my eyes with her big, dark pools. 

“I’m o-okay.” I answered, voice shaky but at least I’d been able to summon it. I swallowed dryly. She was concerned for me, had known I was bothered. I felt the need to deflect, to assuage her, to not make a scene. “It’s just that…well, wh-what’s this talk here all about?” Having come in late, we’d missed the opening remarks.

Lakshmi presented me with her phone, which in the semi-light of the atrium space, glowed brightly. She’d pulled up the online program for this event, which she’d been reviewing. She let me read:.

+++++++++++++++

Real Estate = Real Power

Women on the Rise in Commercial Property Ownership

Hosted by The Vendare Center | Atrium 2 | Tuesday, November 19 | 2:30 - 3:30 PM

Event Overview:

Join us for a timely and empowering conversation with some of the region’s leading women in commercial real estate, law, development, and investment. As part of the Vendare Center’s Grand Opening Series, this panel explores how women are reshaping the future of urban spaces - transforming not only who owns the land beneath our feet, but how we think about leadership, access, and legacy.

Key Topics Include:

• Shifting power structures in commercial property ownership

• Legal strategies for advancing gender balances in real estate

• Success stories from local women transforming their communities

• The economic ripple effects of female-led property development

• What’s next: growth projections and trends in ownership, local and national

Panelists:

• Executives from The Vendare Group

• Senior real estate attorneys and property developers

• Commercial investment advisors

• Municipal planning advocates

Why It Matters:

Over the past several years, women have already dramatically increased their stake in commercial and mixed-use real estate. This discussion celebrates that momentum, highlights the road ahead, and offers inspiration to anyone looking to take part in reshaping the urban landscape - especially through the lens of equity and empowerment.

Audience:

Open to the public. Recommended for women entrepreneurs, students, investors, and anyone interested in the future of urban development.

We hope to see you there!

“Real Estate = Real Power” will be moderated by Mira Dowell, Regional Liaison for Women’s Enterprise & Local Growth, The Vendare Group.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

So, I figured, still trying to put whatever had just happened to me in those last few moments as far out of my head as possible, this lady speaking must be Mira Dowell…

Whoever she was, Vendare’s ‘Regional Liason for Women's Enterprise and Local Growth’ stood at the lectern with a welcoming air, the kind of poised, competent woman who wouldn’t seem out of place either commanding a room of CEOs or leading a community book club. She wore a blouse of soft rose tucked into wide-legged navy slacks, the fabric of both flowing gently with her movements - business casual, but with elegance and with her softly fit figure not a small amount of sexiness. Her dark brown hair was pinned loosely at the nape of her neck, a few strands escaping to frame her face in gentle, wispy curves. Onstage, she was just finishing describing the impressive career of - well, what sounded like her boss. The last of the five women at the panel table was the COO of The Vendare Group, which I’m gathering was some real estate company.

Mira herself appeared to be in her late 30s or early 40s, with warm hazel-brown eyes, subtle lines at their corners when she smiled - something she seemed to do often and easily. A single pendant necklace rested at her collarbone, and the only real hint of formality was a Vendare-branded lanyard clipped discreetly to her waistband. At about 5’7”, the woman wasn’t especially tall, but she had a calm confidence that held attention without demanding it. She spoke clearly, her voice smooth and low, with just enough upbeat energy to carry a room of fifty without needing to raise it. Even from my seat about five rows back I could feel the quiet pull of her charisma - not flashy or commanding, but assured and practiced.

Without too much ado, the moderator explained how the panel discussion would run: First, Mira gestured to the panelists beside her. “Each of our guests will share a few words - quick updates, insights, and vision. We’ll move into a group discussion, and I’ll moderate a few questions. We’ll also be showing a short presentation on what we at Vendare see happening across the region - and the opportunities we think all of you can be part of. Then, of course, we’ll open it up to your questions.”

She sat back with a gracious nod and turned to the first panelist.

“Ms. Baptiste?”

Inez Baptiste - I’m pretty sure that was her name, since it was put up on the screen behind her - rose smoothly from her seat to speak. She was a trim, commanding figure in a charcoal-gray jumpsuit belted tightly at the waist, her short-cropped natural hair neatly shaped into soft spirals. High cheekbones and a wide, confident stance gave her the air of someone accustomed to breaking ground. Her voice was calm but strong, the sort that didn’t need to compete for the room’s attention as she described her last several years of building up properties in areas of the city no one else wanted to touch - neglected storefronts, dead plazas, housing stock in which no one else saw value. Now, though - I had known it myself - some of those blocks were among the fastest-growing districts in the metro area.

A quiet murmur of approval rippled through the audience, and I could feel Lakshmi nodding beside me.

“My work focuses on small-form spaces - boutique, local retail, artist co-ops. And increasingly, residential. What’s changed most recently isn’t just the investment capital - it’s who’s bringing it. Women. Teams of women. Female-led finance groups, cooperatives, even mother-daughter partnerships. Together  we’re buying up the old neighborhoods, building the new future block by block.”

Inez paused, scanning the crowd.

“We’re talking about ownership, female ownership,” she began to conclude, watching the women in the audience hang on her every word, “We’re making real estate a source of strength for us as we move forward. What can they do to us if we buy everything out from under them? We can own this city, girls, with just a little hard work.”

The applause came, in a swell.

I swallowed, suddenly aware of the way my chair - a small folding one but still oversized - felt wobbly beneath me. My eyes darted again to the panel table, to the poised and powerful women flanking my ex-wfie. I wasn’t sure I’d ever quite understood what Sheryl had been doing, these past years, with her real estate dealings. And now, seated here in this transformed mall that no longer seemed to need men at all, I was just beginning to.

The applause still lingered in the air even after Inez Baptiste returned to her seat. It wasn’t thunderous - but it was meaningful. Intent. As if the audience wasn’t just responding to what she said, but to what it all meant: ownership, renewal, female-led capital. I sat with my hands clasped together between my knees, elbows tucked inward, my gaze half-lowered.

Beside me to my left, Lakshmi glanced over. I felt her eyes flicker across my profile, noting the small furrow at my brow, the way I blinked more than usual.

“You sure you are okay?” she whispered again, this time without preamble. She didn’t touch me, but her voice - low and warm - nudged me like a gentle hand from above might have.

Josie, on the other side of Lakshmi, caught the exchange and leaned in across her friend. She watched me for a moment. “He’a squirming. You’re squirming, Dr. J,” she said, in a voice for only us to hear, “Do you need a potty break?”

Did she just ask me if I…?!?

Aubrey came to my rescue. On my right side and now with her left arm gently draped over the back of my chair, she added, “I think it’s just… a lot for him.” Her tone was soft, full of understanding. “He’s seeing a side of things he hasn’t really seen before. Women buying all this real estate.”

I tried to smile, and tried to remind myself that I was the adult here - though nothing could feel further from the truth. These girls were early, mid-twenties at most, but they seemed my emotional superiors, the stable force here. So, the smile I wanted never came - the corners of my mouth didn’t quite cooperate. Instead, I took a small breath. “It’s just… I didn’t know this was all so…coordinated. So far along.”

“You don’t read the same stuff we read, daddy,” Josie said, sitting back up straight, facing the panel of speakers again. The moderator, Mira, was adjusting her mic. 

I didn’t say all of what I was thinking. That I hadn’t realized until this moment how behind I felt. That I was really just now understanding how women weren’t just working alongside men anymore in the city - they were leapfrogging them, strategically and systematically.

“Do not worry,” Lakshmi whispered, trying for a touch of humor in her voice, “We will still let you live with us when the world changes.”

I blinked up at her, and she smiled, patting my thigh affectionately.

“We will make space,” she assured.

Before I could respond, or even really process that, Mira had started to address the crowd again.

“Our next speaker brings vision and velocity to our shared goals. Please welcome Soleil Choudhary, co-founder of SyraVest Equity.”

Another woman stood at the far left of the table, and the shift in the room was immediate. If Inez had been commanding in an experienced, boots-on-the-ground way, this one was kinetic - a burst of youthful, intentional brilliance.

She was maybe in her early 30’s, though her confidence made her seem even younger and older at once. Her skin was warm-toned and smooth, framed by sleek black hair in a sharp asymmetrical bob that gleamed under the stage lights. She wore a pale mauve dress with a high-waisted belt, tailored so perfectly it seemed more sculpted than sewn. Gold earrings shaped like leaves framed her face, and her shoes - a muted blush-pink with block heels - gave her just enough extra height to make her appear tall.

But she didn’t need it. Her presence was like a magnet.

“Hi everyone,” she began, stepping out from behind the table, walking toward the audience like she was hosting a TED Talk. “I’m Soleil Choudhary, and I help women buy things - buildings, blocks, districts. We’re not asking permission anymore. We’re not waiting for access. We’re showing up and we’re writing checks.”

Polite laughter, then silence as everyone leaned in again.

“Our fund started with six women and a dream to reclaim three storefronts. Today, SyraVest is closing on its one-hundredth property. And not just in the suburbs - we’re talking about the historic corridors, the old-boy-bar districts, car dealership rows.”

She gestured to the projection behind her, which suddenly brought the big screen to life - snapshots of graffiti-tagged buildings transformed into pastel-painted cafes, then empty lots converted into coworking lounges, and crumbling sports bars reborn as wellness centers and art galleries.

“And our aim isn’t just ownership - it’s identity. Reclaiming space and redefining it. We’re creating cultural zones, and we’re including everyone. But make no mistake,” her voice sharpened just a notch, “we, as women, lead.”

I swallowed. I felt like the room was rising without me. I looked at Soleil, shining like her name, already transitioning into a new slide about cooperative land trusts. My attention had started to break up, though Lakshmi, Josie, and Aubrey seemed enraptured.

I leaned back slightly into Aubrey’s arm, and she didn’t move. Her fingers gently gripped into my shoulder like a reassurance: You're not alone, I could almost hear her tell me, but things are changing.

Josie leaned in again, over Lakshmi and towards Aubrey, her hair tickling my cheek, still carrying a faint trace of the vanilla-lavender oil the salon had used. “Wow,” she whispered, glancing up toward the stage where Soleil was finishing her presentation. “Did you catch that? She bought, like, a whole city block.”

“It’s incredible,” Aubrey murmured behind me, her voice awed. “Like…she’s so cool.”

I didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. My stomach was already doing little somersaults, and the atrium - though dimly lit and decently air-conditioned - felt like it had thickened somehow. The weight of it pressed at my collarbones. I took a breath.

Lakshmi’s hand found mine again. She didn’t say anything at first. She just slid her fingers between mine and held them, palm to palm, warm and steady. Her touch didn’t ask for anything; it offered something - stillness, maybe. Shelter.

“You are doing okay,” Aubrey said from my right, not really a question.

“Yeah,” I lied. “Just a lot to take in.”

“Of course it is,” Lakshmi said from my left, squeezing my hand, “And it is okay.”

I nodded, unsure what else to say. In seats in front of us, two older women were nodding and whispering excitedly, one pointing to the projection screen where Soleil’s images still glowed. It was clear they weren’t just inspired, they were activated.

Aubrey squeezed me lightly, with her arm around my shoulders. “Hey,” she whispered with a little smile, “try not to worry.”

I gave her a weak smile, but the truth was, my chest ached. My thoughts were scattered, split between that flash of brightness in Soleil’s imagery, the powerful certainty in her voice, and the gnawing worry in my gut as the crowd applauded for her closing remarks. These women here, the women around me, the women of the city weren’t just rising; they were rising together. Purposefully. Fearlessly.

I lowered my gaze to my lap. And then the moderator’s voice came again, clear and amplified:

“Next, please welcome: Sheryl St. Clair.”

My breath hitched. I didn’t mean for it to - but I felt it. Felt it in the base of my throat and in the pit of my stomach.

Aubrey’s hand instantly shifted on my shoulder, rubbing softly. Lakshmi straightened in her seat, squeezed my hand again. Josie turned her head slowly toward me, eyes narrowing with concern.

I looked up - and there she was.

Sheryl stood, brushing invisible dust from the sleeve of her white blazer, all easy confidence and practiced poise. The lights caught in the shimmer of her top, and shadowed her remarkable bosom. Her coiffed hair was flawless, and as she glanced into the crowd, she locked eyes with me.

It was just for a moment before her eyes moved on, but my stomach had dropped. She hadn’t smirked, but she knew I’d been listening. And now I was going to listen to her.

Aubrey whispered down to me, “You want to leave?”

I shook my head, jaw tight.

Lakshmi leaned down close to my ear. “We are right here.”

I didn’t answer. I just stared forward, heart pounding in my chest, as my ex-wife started to speak. 

I could still hear the subtle clicks of her heels on the platform floor as she stepped around the table, even - strangely - the faint rustle of her white blazer as she turned to the audience. Like I was hyper-focused on her, like her presence was commanding my attention. But then my vision - though it had been perfectly fine all this time - went slightly fuzzy. Like someone had turned down the contrast. The edges of her form blurred as she stepped up to the edge of the platform, and I blinked a few times, hoping to sharpen her into clarity. But instead, the people around her softened too, and suddenly everything felt far away.

Was I faint? Nauseous? I didn’t think so. It was something else.

“...and after representing several regional firms in corporate acquisitions for over a decade,” Sheryl had already been speaking, and her voice was ringing out, amplified and smooth, every syllable measured. But it was a challenge for me to hear her, to understand. Something felt wrong with my senses. Still, though, she had continued:

“I realized how rewarding the challenge of building something of my own could be. I started with the Far Horizons building, originally a 58,000 square foot multi-tenant facility that now primarily serves two clients as both a primary and specialty care center and a research facility, in partnership with a local pharmaceutical company. It’s become a thriving example of vertically integrated care delivery and mixed-use professional tenancy. And, now, aside from the original building, I’ve added two more commercial office-space properties over the past year. I’m now in the process of finalizing a fourth, fifth and sixth, as well as two apartment complexes.”

Though my hearing was as far off as my vision, I’d been able to catch that last part. The words landed like small rocks in my gut. I already knew she’d outgrown me, that she’d been amassing money and investments for years, but this was something else - I hadn’t known about these other new properties. Maybe she’d told me at some point, and maybe I’d forgotten. In any case, my ex-wife - once my partner, then my benefactor - was up there talking like a mogul. A woman who had moved on, building herself bigger, and was now teaching other women how to do the same.

I blinked my eyes, shook my head, rubbed my ear to try to clear it. 

“Dr. J?” came a whisper, Aubrey, leaned in from my right, “You okay?”

I heard her fine. 

But I didn’t answer right away, and the fingers of my free right hand curled back tighter in my lap. My left hand was still in Lakshmi’s larger, gentle one. My breath had become shallow.

“You don’t need to listen if it’s too much,” Aubrey whispered. “We’re here. You’re safe.”

Safe.

That word did something to me. Was I safe? Was listening to Sheryl going to make me shrink again? I hadn’t realized how unsafe I’d felt - how exposed, like the whole room was watching me watch her. I stared at the back of Sheryl’s blurry head as she clicked to her next slide - a graph, I think, I couldn’t really see - and then let my gaze drop to Lakshmi’s manicure, her hand still folded over mine. It seemed clear as day.

I decided that I didn’t need to hear more about Sheryl’s self-made empire. Or her advisory roles. Or her ‘philosophy of property stewardship’ - whatever that meant. Not when Josie leaned in, her voice like velvet over the gravel.

“You’re doing fine, cutie,” she murmured, brushing something invisible off my knee. Her touch felt nice, and she kept her hand there. 

I allowed my eyes to close for just a moment, the sounds of the panel fading into a wash of voices and applause as Sheryl was finishing up. The girls around me - Aubrey, Lakshmi, Josie - became my anchor, and in that moment I let myself stop thinking about the woman on stage, and instead just existed in the warmth of these hands that held me together.

“Thanks, girls,” I found myself saying, “I’m so lucky I have you.”

A huge pause, and I felt a vacuum around me.

“Oh My GOD what did he just say!!?” Josie hissed, trying to keep a whisper.

“H-he said he was lucky to have us…” Aubrey moaned.

“Dr. Jayyyyyyyyyyy…” Lakshmi purred, her eyelids fluttering, “And, Josie…unnngh…language.”

Holy shit, I thought, what did I just do? And why did I find myself repeating: “I am lucky to have you…”

They all groaned, the three of them.

“Kiki-” Josie suddenly implored, removing her hand from my knee and sitting back up as she addressed her friend, “get him up onto your lap, NOW.”

w-wait what?

Before I could speak, Lakshmi had answered her friend, and I felt a hand slide around my back, from my left. ”I think you’re right…” she murmured.

“Here I’ll help…” offered Aubrey, and her left arm settled down my shoulders a bit as she turned so she could slip her right forearm under my thighs.

I found my voice - here in the half-light, though, in the crowd, with the presentation still going on - I didn’t want to draw attention…so I said it under my breath: “n-no no no…wait…!” 

But I was already being lifted…

“There you go ups-a-daisy,” Josie cooed, “right onto Auntie BoomBoom…”

…onto Lakshmi’s lap.

<boof>

Oh god.

Being seated onto the lap of a woman significantly larger than oneself, like what had just happened to me and which had been happening to me more and more recently, can evoke a complex interplay of physical and sensory experiences. That’s it in a nutshell - and the immediate sensation, here, was one of yielding to a substantial mass. Lakshmi’s lap provides a surprisingly firm yet yielding foundation, a stark contrast to the hard plastic chair I’d just been on. The contours of her body molded around mine, creating an immediately intimate connection. If I hadn’t been before, I became acutely aware of our differences in size and weight, a feeling that can include both comfort and security as well as vulnerability.

”Is that okay Dr J..?” Lakshmi asked softly, as with two hands across my middle she pulled me in.

Pressure was distributed across my lower body, sunk slightly in between her enormous thighs. It was a deep and encompassing sensation, rather than a localized point of contact. The instant warmth emanating from her body was palpable, coming through my clothing and creating a close, cocoon-like feeling. I was aware of the texture of her clothing as her scrubs slid against mine – the greater softness of her fabric, and as she pulled me back to her chest, the give of the padding of her bra against my upper shoulders.

“Is Auntie BoomBoom comfy?” grinned Josie.

Some movements on Lakshmi’s part, the subtle shifts in her body as she settled me onto her lap translated into noticeable adjustments in my position and the pressures I felt from her flesh. I felt the softness of her large breasts, and in her arms and legs the firmness of underlying muscle, holding me, cradling me. 

“He looks so little on your lap, Lakshmi,” Aubrey said softy, a warm undertone in her amazement as she shifted her own shapely rear, moving from her chair towards us, into my now-vacant seat on our right.

“He is little,” Lakshmi agreed, hands still around my waist, “He feels little.”

“H-hey…” I found myself protesting.

“Oh shush,” Lakshmi stilled me, the grip around me tightening just that little bit, “And you can stop squirming now.”

To our left, we’d drawn a little attention; a group of women watched. Another trio ahead of us had also turned for a moment, and was now whispering to one another.

“There you go,” she purred into me, soothing me, “Good, Dr. J…” 

Lakshmi’s steady breathing was perceptible against my back and shoulders, a rhythmic reminder of her looming presence behind me, as the warmth and strength of her thighs was her constant below me. When she spoke, I’d felt it rumble in her chest, further intensifying our physical connection and the awareness of our size disparity. She was nearly six feet tall, I was just over four.

“Oh, Lakshmi,” Aubrey spoke, not without a little bit of wonder, “he looks like your little boy.”

“He’s our little boy,” Josie growled, now leaning in closer to me so that our noses nearly nuzzled.

“Oh…god…” I heard myself groan. Beyond the purely physical, there was an emotional dimension to this experience, lapsitting. I’d felt it before, with Melissa, many times, and begun to appreciate how it could evoke feelings of being cradled and protected, or belittled and infantilized. With the girls, here, now, it felt much like it usually did with her - they were making me feel safe by surrounding me with themselves. The crowd of strangers was still around us, my ex-wife was still talking onstage, but I was here with them.

“Say it again, Dr J…” Aubrey reproved, as she leaned in closer on my right and put a gentle hand on my thigh, “tell us you’re lucky to have us.”

Oh my god her hand is on my-

“Yes say what you said before,” Lakshmi instructed.

I, though, groaned. Aubrey’s hand gripped, and she gasped, quietly: 

“Dr. J..!”

“Oh, Jesus,” Josie marveled, looking down to see what Aubrey had discovered. She dropped her voice lower, into a whisper, “Look what’s happening between his legs..!”

“Oh my goodness!” Aubrey exclaimed softly, “Dr J…is that because we’re so close..?”

She gave my erection a gentle squeeze, and on Lakshmi’s lap my whole body bucked.

“Shhhhh…careful,” Lakshmi admonished, though the warmth of her body around me changed, became even more enveloping, “and, Josie, language.” She paused, and I could feel her looking down from behind me, over my right shoulder, at Aubrey’s hand on my boner, through my scrubs. She knew we had to be quiet. “Do you have those shopping bags? We can cover him…”

“Oh jeez good god…dess, yes, okay,”  Josie said quickly, turning away for a moment to pick up a plastic bag full of clothing purchases from VULNI. She plunked it on my lap, and over Aubrey’s attentive hand. She held it there in place with her right hand.

“...so no one can see,” Lakshmi finished, now pulling me even tighter to herself, immobilizing my torso. There was a quickness, a breathiness to her voice too. She was just as turned on as Aubrey holding my cock, as Josie leaning back in again to my left, to whisper in my ear.

“It’s okay, daddy,” Josie was purring, “let your little girls take care of you.”

“Little girls?” Aubrey picked up, her hand now gently stroking my nine-plus inches of solid penis into my thin, bony, shrunken thigh. It reached nearly to my knee, and her hand covered more than half the shaft. The shopping bag obscured it all, though, from view and there was now an energy to her, to all three of them, that had been slowly building and had finally tipped. There was no way I was getting out of this without exploding; I was nearly there already. “No, I’m not a little girl anymore. I want to be a mommy…”

All three girls now squealed, now cooed as softly as they could manage - “ooo yes!” “wanna be your mommy!” - as they leaned closer into me, over me. Aubrey’s stroking under the shopping bag had begun in earnest.

I groaned, aware that we were - yes, in dim lighting, and yes, with the crowd’s attention towards the stage - in public. But I let myself be taken by the feelings surrounding me, and Sheryl’s voice had long faded away into the distance.

“Come for us, Dr. J,” Lakshmi chest rumbled from behind me, in a voice only we could hear, “Come for your new mommies…”

oh good god…oh god…oh god…

“You’re so lucky to have us,” Josie purred with heated breath into my ear, “you said it yourself.”

“So let us make you feel good…” Aubrey said, the rhythm of her hand having become more insistent, her voice starting to sound different, different timbre, different cadence, “Come on, Dr. J…come…”

She was starting to sound like Melissa.

“oh god yes, yes…” I started in a mumble, now smelling Melissa’s perfume all around me, but as the wave of my orgasm began to swell, Lakshmi spoke to Josie:

“He has got to stay quiet-” 

Josie’s free hand came to clamp me over the mouth.

My eyes widened.

“Shhhh…hush hush,.” she breathed, into my ear. Why does she sound like Melissa too??

“Shhhh….” Aubrey repeated, from my right, even as her strokes became stronger. “There you go, baby,” she said, eerily similar to Melissa’s voice again, “feel that. Feel Mommy.” And then I felt her press her breast - her enormous left breast - into the side of my head.

<MMMNNPHhhff!>  I exclaimed, into Josie’s huge, warm palm.

Immediately I lost control, immediately I began to crest,

Lakshmi held me tight, motionless, keeping me from bucking, spasming. “Hush, hush…” she purred, her voice deeper than I remember…as deep as Melissa’s.

<nnnnNNNGGGHHHHH!!> I cried, muffled into Josie’ soft hand, fingers firmly clutching my face, keeping me from howling out as I ejaculated into my pants, as I came under Aubrey’s grip.

“That’s right, daddy,” Josie - or was it Melissa? - murmured into my ear, “come for us. Make us grow…”  

‘Make us gr-???’ Nnnngh! Nnngh! NNgh! My groans were silent, silenced, but the flashes before my eyes were like a storm. The whole room was blurred, like through a cloud, except for these three women around me.

I came and I came, certainly soiling my navy blue joggers down at the knee. I’d clamped my eyes to shut out the rest of the world, the sight of anyone who might be watching this, watching what was happening, this pathetic little male being mollycoddled into an oblivion by his three towering companions in the middle of a crowd here for a panel discussion on women’s advances in commercial real estate. The humiliation of it - nnngh! - just made my rapture deeper, more acute, making my face burn.

“Shhhhh….shhhh Dr. J,” purred Lakshmi from above me, “let it all out.”

“We’ll always take care of you,” came Aubrey, pushing her tit again firmly into the side of my head as I throbbed in her hand, as my ejaculate pooled on my thigh, and as finally - outside world be damned - I turned my face to press nose, mouth and lips, even my eyes, into her breast, “That’s right, baby. You’ve got us all as your mommies now…”

====================================