MsKimberly — Tuesday 8:37 AM
I was told you are the one to talk to. Possible thing. How do we meet?
I love these out of the blue ‘somebody said’ messages. Most of the time it’s just some little monkey wanting to jack. Like there’s not enough web porn? Or it’s a cop hoping for a freebie. All part of the playground I work in, but I always answer, ’cause you never know.
Certainly willing to talk. My office 1:30 tomorrow.
3:30? Address?
Fine. Ask your friend.
And so we’ll see.
After quite a nice school girl roleplay with sweet Margie, I was back at my desk in plenty of time, listening to some John Lee Hooker. A few minutes shy of the half, she taps once and opens the door. She is young, as I expected, very well dressed, and expensively coiffed with all the matching bits. Really quite tasty.
“Come in. Have a seat.”
“Thank you, Ms…?”
“Just Anne. And you are Ms Kimberly, yes?
“Yes. Nice to meet you, Anne, and thank you for your time. I assume you will want to see this,” she says, handing me her driver’s license.
I give it a good look. Kimberly Lynn Peters, age twenty-one, upmarket address, blah, blah, blah. I look her in the eye, then give it a right-hand flick. Astoundingly, it hits the wall square and drops into the trash can with a perfect kerplunk.
“What the hell?”
“Spent some bills on that, didn’t you? Anjelo Tapa. Oh, so good, but oh, so vain. He always sneaks in a tiny little @ as a signature. Have to know what to look for or you’ll never see it. Now let’s see the real one or we’re done here.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d talk to me otherwise.” She digs in her purse and passes me another. Kimberly Lynn Peters, age seventeen, but all else the same.
“Okay, that’s a good girl. Nothing says we can’t talk. Might draw the line past that, but we aren’t there yet. And just so you know, this is all being taped. Nothing personal, but a working girl can’t be too careful.”
“I understand and respect that. So here’s the deal…”
oOoOoOo
It’s the next day and I’m sitting at Lydia’s, sipping a latte, waiting to meet Karen, Kimberly’s mother.
“Wait! You’re going to be her date? To her first Guild Ball?”
“That’s the idea. Now understand me. That’s all I will be, a simple date. Dinner, a little dancing, but no touchy-feely, no nothing else.”
“Why the hell is she hiring a… female escort? I mean, I know she likes girls, but why you? You’re what, ten years older?”
“Not quite, but point taken. Apparently there is something between Kimberly and a girl named Kelly, who has been bragging about her hunk of burning grad school boyfriend and is none too polite about the whole queer thing.”
“Oh, I know her. Nasty piece of rich-bitch! Sorry, but she’s a clone of her effing mother and they both need to go live wet and naked under a bridge somewhere!”
I grin wide at her outburst, liking Karen more and more.
“Kimberly said you know she is out. Obviously, she could have her pick of any willing female her age, but I believe she wants to make a statement and I fit the bill. So the question is, do we let her give Kelly the rigid? I told her it has to be with your absolute yes or it’s an absolute no.”
She covers her face with her hands and takes a deep breath, holding it for long seconds before she exhales and looks me in the eye.
“You raise them to be proud and independent, without thinking about having to live up to it yourself. Yes, okay. But understand, I will be there as a member hostess this year, so I will be watching both of you. Closely.”
“Trust me, Karen. It will all be good and you won’t regret it.”
oOoOoOo
Being the romantic that I let no one see, I cash in a past favor with Miss Kathryn– her ’62 Sedanca DeVille Rolls limo and her driver Carlotta for the night. We purr up to Kimberly’s house and I go to collect my date.
“Shit!” Karen exclaims, opening the door and seeing me in the soft porch light.
I have decided tonight deserves my best bespoke. It’s patterned on some old pictures I have of a high-life 1920s Berlin butch fem. A jet-black wool and silk blend, it has high waisted bell-leg cuffed pants and a sharply cut mid-thigh jacket with wide satin lapels. I paired it with a pearl white bow-tie blouse just transparent enough to leave little doubt about which side my gold nipple ring is on. I did my face in the same vintage look– penciled Dietrich brows, sultry warm gray shadow with gold edging, and blood-red lips, my hair razor parted and slicked back.
“Am I supposed to be this jealous of my daughter?” she asks as I step in.
“What are you jealous of now, mo… Shit!” Kimberly exclaims, coming into the hall.
“Okay, let’s make it a trio, ’cause damn girl!” I exclaim, waving a finger head to toe. She has on a rust-red, Asian inspired, raw silk gown that makes her tanned skin and honey blond hair explode. Deceptively simple, tightly cut, it accentuates her tall, thin, athletic figure. She’s kept her shoulder-length hair simple, framing an exquisitely made-up face. Ms Kelly doesn’t stand a fucking chance.
“You two are certainly going to be the talk of the Guild when you walk in,” Karen says, taking some snaps of us. “Might give old man Carson that heart attack his wife’s been hoping for!”
“You won’t be there, Karen?”
“Later, just for the dance. The Baxters are picking me up. Now, off you go.”
“Right, then. Kimberly, our carriage awaits,” I murmur, offering my arm. Karen gives her daughter a kiss and follows us out.
“Okay, bitch! Like your drag wasn’t enough?” she exclaims, seeing Carlotta in her full gold buttoned rig waiting at the open passenger door.
“In for all or in for nothing, darling, that’s my motto. See you later, Karen,” blowing her a kiss.
Tucked snug in the back, I key the intercom. “To the ball, if you please, driver. We have heads to turn.”
“As you wish, m’lady!” Carlotta giggles back and the evening begins.
There are half a dozen limos of varying pomposity queued up along the wide curving drive leading to the antebellum monstrosity of Guild Hall. With her normal disdain for protocol, Carlotta tools past them on the outside and adroitly cuts into the front of the line. As we idle, several drivers step out from their small lounge tent to snap pics of the car. With a wave from the scowling maitre de motor, we slowly ease up to the entrance staircase and watch as the assembled guests viewing the arrivals on the veranda stop dissing and stare.
It is tradition at Guild galas for guests to be escorted in by junior members who stand grouped either side of the stairs, boys to the left, girls to the right. As Carlotta opens our door and Kimberly and I step out, a small confusion stirs among the young men about what they should do. With no hesitation on her part, a cute red-haired young lady eagerly capers toward us. Finally, one tall, awkward-looking fellow steps forward. He hasn’t taken three when Carlotta freezes him with a flicking ‘go back’ finger, then offers Kimberly her arm as I offer mine to sweet red. The two girls lean forward to stare at each other and shake with giggles as we move forward at last.
As is also tradition, we stop halfway up, so a picture can be taken. Unless someone has popped their top or fallen over drunk, it’s usually just a couple of clicks. I count at least a dozen before the woman shooting pauses with a smile, wanting us to stand even closer together. After another dozen, we are allowed to resume our entrance. As Kimberly greets various club dignitaries, I give Carlotta a quick kiss on the cheek.
“I’ll tap you when I’m ready to go. You be okay till then?”
“Oh yeah. Just saw a driver I know, Coral Mae. Haven’t seen her in ages.”
“Good memories, I hope?”
“Oh hell yes. The very best kind. Might take me a moment or two to get back on your text, you understand.”
“No worries, darling, just don’t frighten the straights too much.”
“Same to you, baby,” she chuckles, starting back to the car.
oOoOoOo
The food at dinner isn’t nearly as bad as I feared. After the usual canapes and bulk rate champagne, we are escorted to our tables. There are three couples per and our mix is a smidge better than average. Miss Courtland, an elegant sixty-ish matron is being squired by her great-nephew, a handsome fellow who flirts shamelessly with the young man serving us. I figured it must run in the family, as Miss treats both Kimberly and I to a very rapt and very queer-friendly eye, ignoring the others. The third couple are the Drakes, Bob and Bonnie. They’re standard issue outside sales and PTA maven, bland and harmless, though I can’t help but notice how quickly she looks my way when I lean in, jacket gaping, allowing her a better view of my nipples.
In the pauses, I scan the room carefully. In my line of work, one has to take care at affairs like this that might include past customers who would not take kindly being acknowledged. I see a couple of ladies I’d rather steer clear of, but no real problems. Far across the room, I spot a fellow pro, Jimmy, who is with a very expensive looking woman easily twice his age. Meeting mine, he arches an amused eye and blows me a kiss. Good for you, Jimmy. I’m sure the lady will be most pleased with that impressive black cock you wear with deserved pride.
Dinner over and several very boring and blessedly short speeches given, we are at last invited to dance the night away in the ballroom. I take Kimberly’s hand and we slowly make our way to the big double doors. As before, while mingling during hors d’oeuvre, we draw a lot of attention. I see some scowls, some smiles, and a few outright wanton looks, both male and female. There might be some interesting conversations when folks get home.
“So where is your Miss Kelly?”
“Don’t know. Kinda weird.”
The dance floor is still dark as everyone files in, then a single spot pops on and the orchestra kicks off. In the center of the floor are Kelly and her beau. She is attractive in a spend lots and lots of money way but doesn’t have Kimberly’s natural framework to carry it off. He’s certainly handsome enough but betrayed by a jacket poorly cut for his body. They look a bit like second-tier contestants on Dancing With The Stars. Little ooohs and a clap or two ring out as they begin dancing.
“Oh, fuck this,” I whisper. “My mark, three spins and drop.”
I stride us onto the floor until we are between her royal cuntness and the crowd. I turn, snap my heels, and spin Kimberly forward. In perfect cue, she drops as I do, catching her just above my bent knee. Playing it right to the top, she stretches out long, arms and hands dramatically extended, one leg out, one bent as I cradle her. Holding her head, I lean and kiss her hard on the mouth, hearing the gasp from the crowd. As we slowly stand, eyes locked, applause erupts and a voice behind hisses “You fucking bitch! You and your shit street whore are gonna pay for this!”
I do us a quick turn so I am close to Kelly’s ear, while her poor boyfriend looks on with a baffled face.
“Oh, you clueless little pussy,” I whisper back, with my best lewd grin. “You really want me to tell everyone how many afternoons I’ve spent fucking your momma while daddy’s away? Or she’s spent fucking Jimmy over there? Or both of us together? She’s got some big appetites, she does, but I guess she doesn’t share that with you. Oh, look! That’s her by the window. Let’s go over and have a little chat about it, shall we?”
“You? Mommy? Oh, God!” Kelly squeaks out, backing away, her face blanched white. She spins and grabs his lapels.
“Drink! I need a drink!”
“They got punch or like a coke or what?” he stammers.
“Like a fucking drink, asshole!” Leaving him to follow sheepishly behind, she stomps off in search of half empty champagne bottles.
The opening act over, couples start filling the floor. I hold Kimberly close and we sway to the music.
“That was fucking awesome, Anne! Was any of it true?”
“Not a word. You know her mom. Think she’s gonna ask?”
She giggles into my shoulder. “I liked that kiss, too. A lot.”
“So did I, sweetie, but you know the rules. Besides, your mother’s standing right behind you.”
oOoOoOo
The evening is winding down. I go over to the bandleader and he leans to me without missing a beat.
“Want you to know, toots. We all voted and you win hands down!”
“Well, thanks, guys,” I laugh. “I know you’re finishing, but could you do ‘Mood Indigo’ for me?”
“Absolutely! Perfect ender.”
I cross the room to Karen, who is chatting up a pair of silver-haired ladies dressed in what must be hundred-year-old black crepe. I tap her shoulder.
“Last dance?”
She smiles and we move to the thinning floor.
“Thank God, Anne! The Kant sisters can’t stop talking!”
“I was hoping that wasn’t the only reason,” I breathe in her ear, as the band starts up and I hold her close.
“And it’s not. But why me? Where’s your ‘date’?”
I give a nod to the right. She looks over and sees Kimberly in a dim corner sharing a most emphatic kiss with the cute redhead from the stairs.
“Collie Stevens. I thought that might be her sparkle, but one isn’t allowed to ask,” she says with a smile. “So does this make you the jilted… escort?”
“Not a bit. I knew that’s where her heart really was. Asked her if we were all good and she said yes. She and her crew are off to a club. I’m to tell you she’ll be safe and will see you in the morning. So my evening with her is done and a pleasant bit of work it was.”
“So now what?”
“So now I take you home to bed.”
“To bed, huh? That’s rather bold, even for you!”
“Really, Karen? We’re already dancing with our feet, shall we dance with our words, too? I’ve watched your eyes looking and it’s obvious you like what you see. You’ve said as much, as well. And I can feel it in the way you’re holding me right now. I know I won’t be your first.”
She looks at me as we sway to the music, alone on the dance floor.
“I confess the thought may have crossed my mind…” A slow, wicked smile curves her dark pink lips. “More than once.”
“Then why are we still dancing?” I tap my phone. “Come on, girl, this party is over.”
oOoOoOo
Not wanting to risk distracting Carlotta, we resist the urge to rip our clothes off on the drive home. With saintly restraint, we nestle in a corner of the deep bench seat and do some serious necking with Etta James singing in the background.
Sending Carlotta off with hugs and warm kisses, we make our way in, hand in hand. She goes through and pauses across the entry hall as I close and lock the door. When I turn, her back is to me. Reaching behind, she slowly unzips her shimmering blue gown, letting it slip off, pooling at her feet. She steps out and strikes a model’s bent leg pose.
Four-inch heels, pale yellow silks, milk chocolate garter, brick red panties, and tanned naked flesh. Tall and leggy like her daughter, she has fuller, deliciously curvy hips and a bottom that makes me dizzy just looking at it. Bending from the waist, making me groan with a teasing flash of draping breast, she snags her dress on a finger and starts lazily up the hallway, dragging it behind.
Mesmerized by the movement of her strutting body, I follow at her pace. At the bedroom door, she pauses again, grasps the edge, and looks back with burning eyes and a sultry smirk, before disappearing inside. When I come around, she is stretched out in the center of the bed, her head resting on a pile of satin pillows. A hand hovers just below her belly button, fingertips brush stroking up and down, up and down.
I walk toward the bed, dropping clothes with each step, eyes locked with hers. With only my peach silk drawers remaining, I sit at her feet. Taking up each leg in turn, I caress my way along the silk-clad calf from knee to slim ankle. Flipping off a shoe, massaging an elegant foot, I nibble the tender curve of her instep, hearing her purr. Crawling up between her legs, kissing and biting each as I go, I hover my face above her lace-covered cunny. I breathe in deeply, her sweet, rich musk firing my appetite.
She raises her hips with a mew, as I hook her panties with two fingers and slowly slide them off. I put the crotch in my mouth, spread her thighs and bend, rubbing the lace-up and down over her open lips, then stir up her growing clit, feeling her press back with a low moan. I drag the silk through her tight brown curls, across her lean torso, and hover above her firm, plump breasts. Shaking my head, I tickle across her nipples, dressing them with her own moisture, as my hands cup and press.
“Oh fuck! Quit teasing, bitch!” she hisses, yanking the panties from my mouth and pulling my head down to the breast she is arching up.
“Yes, like that! Squeeze harder! Little bites! Fuck!” She takes a deep breath and I feel a tremble shoot through her. She pushes me away and onto my back. She kisses me hard, then covers my left nipple with her mouth, flicking with her tongue. Pulling away, my ring between her teeth, she draws my small breast out taught. Watching my eyes, hearing me groan, she judges just the right moment to let it go.
“Been waiting all night to do that,” she husks. “And this, too,” sliding her hand under my silks, cupping my cunt tight.
As a rule, I lead when I dance, but I know how long it has been since she’s pleasured another. I let her play on and she sends my panties flying. She bites and licks her way down my body and between my spread legs. Her technique is no-nonsense, direct and to the point, just what I like best. And she’s really good. She works my clit with her thumbs, lips, and tongue. Little licks up and down, long, pressing ones from my rose back to my clit, suckling it like a devil-possessed babe. It is building inside me and she can feel it, too. She slides one, then two into my cunt, hooking up and hitting the spot first try. I don’t hold back, letting it take me, screaming.
“Fuck, baby! I think I tore your duvet,” I finally wheeze out, catching my breath, as tremors continue to trickle through.
She looks up over my blond covered mons with a big smile. “I was afraid I’d lost my touch. Guess I still got it,” she giggles.
“You could open a school. Now, care to come up here and take a little ride yourself?”
“Oh, hell yes!” She wiggles up till her beautiful, natural cunt is hovering just above my lips. I press close and flood my nose again with the scent of her passion. Popping her garter straps, I grasp her cheeks, digging my fingers into their perfection, then slide into the valley between, spreading it, pulling her to my tongue for long, lapping strokes between her swollen red lips, tasting her nectar. I cover her fat, pearly clit with my lips, sucking it in, hearing her whine out “Yes!” as I smack her ass with alternating open hands.
I sneak a hand under and circle tease the tunnel of her cunt. She’s open and flowing a river, so I wiggle in two deep to an answering chorus of “Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!” Bracing on the wall, she begins stroking on my stiff fingers. I counter-march her movement, my head bobbing to keep working her clit with my teeth and tongue. With a howl, she drives down hard, as the orgasm takes her. One hand grasps my head, the other pounds the wall, her body shaking and shuddering until she collapses down with a gasp.
We slowly straighten ourselves under the sheets and snuggle tight with kisses and gentle touches.
“Anne?”
“Yes, lover?”
“Want to teach advanced techniques at my school?”
oOoOoOo
I slip gently back under the covers after a quick bathroom. She rolls to me and props her head in a hand, a fingernail tracing down my arm.
“So what did you tell her?”
“Who?”
“Kimberly. I heard the beep and saw you palm your phone. Did you tell her you seduced me as planned?”
“How did you know? I’m usually rather good at this.”
“Really wasn’t sure till now, but I suspected. Kimmy’s been fretting about me being alone for a while. And this thing with Kelly, she could have gotten one of the drama students from the college to do it for a lot less, I bet. But you’re a whole different level above that kind of game. Like I said, I wasn’t sure, so I let it play. And I am very, very glad I did,” she explains, leaning in to kiss me with emphasis. “So what did you tell her?”
“I told her yes, much to our mutual satisfaction. And, in all fairness, I’d be returning half her money. And that you and I are having dinner out on Saturday.”
“We are?”
“I’m thinking Antonio’s. You like Italian, yes?”
