CHAPTER 20…
Shifting, I added another pillow to the ones behind my back to sit up straighter. The movement caused my breasts to sway slightly and Chris paused in collecting his clothes to look at me. I smiled back and took a long sip of the mellow brandy Chris had brought with him. Chris continued to look at me while buttoning his shirt. No surprise there. When a long-legged blonde is lounging naked on a bed she just shared with you for hours… Well, she should expect to be looked at!
Chris, the man who until a few minutes ago had shared the bed with me, tucked his shirt into his trousers then sat in a chair at the foot of the bed to pull on his socks. There was a clock on the night table. Chris still had twenty minutes of paid for me. I knew there wasn’t a chance of anything serious but there was time to play. Maybe earn a larger tip. Crossing my ankles, I pouted, “Are you sure you have to go now? I wouldn’t mind another roll in the hay.”
“I’d love nothing better than to remain all night, but the wife has some meeting she wants me to go to with her,” Chris informed me ruefully. “She probably wants me there to write a check to save the damned dolphins or something.” Shrugging into his suit’s jacket, he flipped his tie over his head. Chris started to knot the tie then stopped and sat on the edge of the bed next to me. Chris ran his palm slowly up my leg, over the peak of my hip and down into the dip of my flat stomach. Eyes followed his hand as it moved up my chest to find and massage my left breast. Chris tweaked and rolled my hardening nipple between thumb and finger, “Besides, an entire night with you would kill an old guy like me.”
“Maybe, but…” Smiling evilly, I uncrossed my ankles and spread my legs a bit. Taking the hand on my breast in mine, I pushed it down my body to rest on my mound and curled his fingers into my still moist pussy lips. “But I’d make you die happy.”
“God, Viv! You are such a temptress,” Chris whispered as I guided his fingers with mine. Pressing his to rub and manipulate the softness of my hairless lips. My hips moved upwards in invitation as a fingertip circled my clit before sliding down my oily slit before dipping inside me. The delicious sensations of his fingering caused my hips to squirm under his hand. I moaned when a second finger slid inside me. Chris continued to probe deeper while the hard heel of his hand pressed down on my clit. Chris increased the tempo of his fingering, listening and watching the fluttering of my stomach muscles as my breath caught and released in response to his probing fingers.
I spread my thighs more to allow for deeper exploration. Instead of accepting my unspoken invitation, Chris shook his head ruefully before lifting his hand from my mound. Grinning, Chris brought his fingers to my mouth, painting my lips with our sex before I snapped my head forward and captured his fingers in my mouth, swirling my tongue over his fingers to clean them.
“Viv, I would love to take you away for a weekend in Paris,” Chris said as I continued to suck his fingers. “I think dying in the City of Lights while making love would be the perfect ending of a long life.” Chris pulled his hand away. Continuing the motion, he withdrew an envelope from an inside jacket pocket and placed it on the night table beside the bed. From his wallet, several more bills went on top of the envelope.
Pretending not to notice the envelope, under his gaze I stretched sinuously on the bed to my full length, “I wouldn’t mind a trip to France,” I purred. “As long as it’s first-class so I have room to stretch out.”
Chris leaned over to kiss my forehead. Walking to the door, his last words before leaving were, “Nothing less than first-class for you, Viv. Nothing less.”
Chris was one of Marla’s oldest clients. I mean that in a dual sense. He was one of the first men who’d used Marla’s specialized service. He was also pushing eighty years old. I’d been with him once before. He was a nice, comfortable lover. His body was long past its prime but he wasn’t fat, just wrinkled. Wasn’t interested in anything kinky. Never tried to lick my toes or smell my panties. He just took his time, enjoying himself with whichever girl Marla sent when he requested company.
Chris enjoyed sloppy blow jobs, slender cigars and expensive cognac. In that order. The old guy was still relatively vigorous, too. Vigorous enough for me to have brought him twice. Once with pussy and once with my mouth. It had taken more than the two hours he’d originally paid for but I’d agreed when asked if I could stay longer. I’d sucked and stroked until my lips were numb to bring the cum out of his dick the second time. I had a feeling the bills Chris had left behind would make my efforts worthwhile.
Chris hadn’t been in a hurry to leave after I’d sucked him dry and for the last hour we’d been together, we’d spent the time relaxing; talking about nothing, sipping excellent cognac and smoking expensive, imported cigars. I very much enjoyed the relaxing, talking and sipping while I tried not to inhale deeply as I smoked my cigar. Chris joked that his cigars were hand rolled upon the virgin thighs of Cuban beauties. I wouldn’t bet on virgin thighs but they had an easy draw and a hint of a flavor I couldn’t identify. I didn’t mind the smell of the cigars. If it wasn’t for the smell lingering in my hair and clothes, I could see myself enjoying a cigar every night.
Chris had been my last client today. My third. When Marla had called to ask if I wanted to meet with another client after my last scheduled meeting, I’d agreed because it was Chris. Servicing three clients in one day left me feeling tired and relaxed with slightly sore thigh muscles when I walked. Especially relaxed because of all the excellent brandy in my stomach. Since I didn’t need to be anywhere soon, I poured another two fingers of Remy Martin into my glass.
With glass in hand, I pushed up from the bed. Glass, envelope and purse went with me into the bathroom. In the harsh glare of the overhead light, my reflection in the mirror looked a fright. Bed hair going every which way. Residue of spit and cum on my face and chest. Makeup ruined and the red of my lipstick smeared across upper lip, cheeks and chin.
In one gulp I emptied the glass, shivering and whooshing out a long breath as the brandy burned its way to my stomach. I had two more envelopes in my purse. Opening them and the one from Chris, I couldn’t help but smile as I counted my tips. Not… a… bad… day… I thought. Folding the bills, I put them in a side pocket of my purse and withdrew a scrunchy to put my hair into a ponytail. With my hair out of the way I wet a cloth in the sink. With copious amounts of soap, hot water and elbow grease I scrubbed my face clean. I carry a tiny travel case in my purse. A small dollop of toothpaste on a folding toothbrush and a few seconds of scrubbing got rid of any cum and cigar residue while leaving my breath minty fresh.
Starting the shower, I texted Marla while waiting for the water to warm. ADD TWO HOURS That was to let Marla know to charge Chris for the extra time. And to send more money into my bank account. As I stepped into the shower I did the math. Including tips, in one day I’d made enough to pay the rent on my huge apartment for another month. I might be a whore but I was a well-paid whore.
More soap and hot water washed sex from my skin. Minutes later I stepped out of the shower squeaky clean. I freed my hair from the scrunchy and shook my hair out as I toweled off. I was brushing my hair when my phone rang. Damn! I’d forgotten to turn it off after texting Marla. It was my mom. It was just after 5 pm, when mom thought I called it a day from my job as an office temp. I assured her I was finished with work and could talk. I set the phone to conference call and finished brushing my hair as we talked. How was my day? Same-ol’-same-ol’, Mom. Filing and typing… Mentally I thought fucking and sucking.
I didn’t want mom and dad to find out I slept with men for money. Me? I’d gotten over what little shame I’d felt months ago. After all, I reasoned, I wasn’t doing anything I wouldn’t do while on a date. I was just doing it for much, much more than a dinner and a movie.
I poured the last drams from the bottle of brandy and gulped it down as I dressed. I felt bad shot gunning wonderful cognac like cheap whiskey, but I was in a hurry. I continued to make yes and no answers where appropriate as mom kept talking. Taking a last look around the hotel suite to make certain I wasn’t leaving anything behind, I finally got mom to hang up. Tossing the key card on the bed, I left to go home.
I’d acted my ass off today. No pun intended. Now that my day was over I let my mad out!
***************
Back at the brownstone building my apartment was in I ran the stairs as my nod to cardio exercise. I stopped at the third floor and pounded on Danny’s door. Nothing. No sound from inside. Danny either wasn’t home yet or he was ignoring me. Again. “If you’re not home, then that’s okay! But if you’re ignoring me then you’re an asshole,” I yelled at the door! I would have stomped my foot but I remembered I was wearing stilettos and didn’t want to chance breaking my heel. I settled on hitting the door with my hand.
“Even if you’re not at home and even if you aren’t ignoring me, you’re still an asshole,” I yelled at the door one last time before turning away. Did my last sentence make sense? Probably not. Was it stupid yelling at and hitting a door? Probably. But it made me feel better as I stomped up the next flight of stairs to my apartment.
It wasn’t my fault Danny got all pissy yesterday. Well, it wasn’t! Not my fault at all, I thought virtuously as I began my regular routine after arriving home after a day of sex. I added more condoms to my purse than usual. Tomorrow I’d be leaving for the weekend so I might need more than usual. I stomped on the floor as I walked hoping I was disturbing the asshole in his apartment under mine.
Danny still hadn’t knocked on my door by the time I was in my tub. Hot water and scented bath oil began to replace irritation at the asshole with peace and serenity. Then I had an idea and vaulted from the tub. Wrapping a towel around me, I was still dripping water on my hardwood floor as I went to a spot that I knew was directly over Danny’s small den. On hands and knees, I put my ear to the floor. I didn’t hear anything. Not even the TV.
“I know you’re down there,” I growled and stood up. “I know you’re down there,” I growled louder. I kicked at the floor only to end up on my ass as my foot skipped across the slippery wet, scented bath oil floor. “Oww,” I cried. “Now look what you made me do!” I didn’t know if I was accusing the floor or Danny or both.
Carefully standing up in the widening puddle of scented bath oil water, I rubbed my ass cheek and hobbled back to my bath. The fucking water was tepid by now and I really didn’t feel like a bath anyway. I drained the tub and sluiced off suds and excess scented bath oil in my shower as I washed my hair.
Sitting gingerly on a bruised ass, I ate three packets of Pop Tarts with two large glasses of milk while drying my hair. Feeling bloated, I made sure my damned alarm clock wasn’t set to wake me up early when Danny usually woke me up. With a last muttered, Asshole, I huddled under my blankets and tried to sleep.
YESTERDAY AFTERNOON…
Charlie was tying my arms to a long, bamboo pole that ran behind my neck when I asked if I could have one of his photos of me to show a friend. Charlie had been dabbling with chains and manacles lately so I was glad to be tied up with rope again. Metal manacles tended to be uncomfortable when you’re hanging from the ceiling by them. Charlie had been ecstatic to know someone local wanted to see his ‘hobby’. Most of his admirers were spread out over the globe. He sent them photos and ideas for new rope designs and they reciprocated. Charlie had been dabbling with chains and manacles lately so I was glad to be tied up again. Metal manacles tended to be uncomfortable when you’re hanging from the ceiling by them.
Charlie and I had a deal. My face couldn’t be recognizable in any of the photos he sent out. I doubted my mom or dad would ever see any of Charlie’s photos but there was never a way to tell if a friend of a friend wasn’t a little kinky. After being untied from the bamboo framework a couple of hours later, Charlie was happy to hand me an album that showed off his talent. I had to sit while Charlie turned the pages, pointing out how he’d gotten the shadows just right. He enjoyed talking about F Stops, lighting and angles just as much as tying me up and taking the pictures. I have to admit that Charlie is one hell of a photographer. I promised to return the album but Charlie said I could keep it. He’d make another that included the most recent photographs of me.
I’d like to think that my sitting naked on the couch next to Charlie got him excited. But I think being able to talk to someone about his passions was what got his dick hard again. We’d already had sex while I was tied up but, setting the album aside, sex on the couch was much more comfortable.
Later in my apartment, Danny acted as excited as Charlie had as I handed him the album. We sat on my couch and he opened the album to the first picture. It showed my long legs tied together in intricate loops of rope. Focused on my legs, while you could tell I was naked, from my upper thighs to my breasts the photo was just out of focus to only hint what at the attributes of my nude torso.
“Damn! Now that’s hot!”
“You think so,” I asked.
“Hell, yes,” Danny answered as he turned the page. In this photo, I was on my knees, bowed backwards with my head thrown back. From my neck started a complex weave of rope over my chest and boobs. The weave continued down my taut stomach to end in ropes on either side of my pussy lips.
“Holy, shit! How long did it take to tie all that?”
“I think that took over an hour to get it right. Getting just the right photo took longer,” I laughed. “My back was aching by the time Charlie got everything just right.”
“I’m not sure I can take as good photos as he can,” Danny mused, studying the weave pattern. “But I think I could do the rope stuff by using this picture as a guide.”
“Oh? You want to tie me up,” I asked. I turned the page. “Maybe tie me to a bed like this?”
“Oh, hell yes,” Danny said.
“Mmm, want me to bring some rope home so you can practice,” I asked with a playful shoulder bump.
“Oh, hell yes,” Danny repeated still looking at the photo of me tied face down and spread eagle on the bed.
“I never would have thought you were the type to want me tied up. Helpless…” I pressed gradually closer to Danny until I was whispering the last words into his ear. “Unable to stop you from doing anything… you… want.”
Danny shivered and pulled his ear away from my hot breath. “If I had you tied to a bed I don’t think I’d ever let you go.”
It was when Danny turned the page again that he got quiet and his whole demeanor changed. Taken from above, this photo showed me tied face down on a couch. My arms resting on my back with my wrists tied. Hair covered my face enough to make it impossible to see much of my features but you could see that my mouth was open as if I were breathing hard. A shadowy figure sat astride my thighs. What wasn’t in shadows was the hard cock nestled in my ass crack and the cum tributes on my ass cheeks.
Danny sat for several seconds barely moving, then hesitantly asked, “That’s, umm. That’s you?”
“Yes.”
Danny stared at the photo for a few more seconds and then closed the album. He handed it to me. Without a word, Danny got up to walk into my kitchen. Still sitting, I twisted so I could see him open the door to the refrigerator. “Danny, what’s wrong,” I asked. “I thought you liked the photos. That they’re hot.”
“They are. They really are,” Danny replied without looking at me. Instead, he concentrated on opening a bottled water.
“So, it was the photo of me with Charlie you didn’t like,” I said finally getting it. “But, Danny. You’ve seen more graphic porn than that…”
Danny interrupted me, “Yeah, but I don’t know those women!”
“But, you know what I do. You’ve known for some time now and…”
“Don’t you get it, Olivia,” Danny interrupted me again. “Knowing what you do is a lot different than seeing it… I thought I was doing pretty good handling… You know, everything. I guess I just wasn’t ready to have it shoved in my face.”
“But, it’s just sex with my clients…”
“You keep saying that, Olivia. But it’s not true! You’ve told me how great it is sometimes with, you know, your clients.”
“Yea, sometimes. But…”
“I know. I know! It’s just sex,” Danny interrupted. He still wasn’t looking at me. Instead studying the bottle of water so intently he was probably counting the number of water molecules. “Sometimes… Damn it, Olivia! Sometimes I hate knowing what you do. Other times it excites the hell out’a me. I’m at work hauling bricks. Thinking about what you’re probably doing while I’m stacking bricks. Who you’re with. I can’t stop getting a hard-on even when I don’t like the thought of you with another guy.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but Danny waved to stop me. “No. Let me get this all out while I can. I think of you with another guy and I feel bad and excited at the same time. I think about watching you with someone and I feel bad and excited. I imagine having a threesome and I feel bad and excited. This isn’t anything I’ve ever had to think about and I just don’t know how to handle it.”
“I’d say you’re just a normal guy but you’re not.”
“Gee, thanks for thinking I’m abnormal,” Danny said sarcastically.
“Hey, I let you have your say, so shut up,” I said. “Thanks to The Bug you’ve got the sexual maturity of a fifteen-year-old. So of course you get excited at the thought of a three-way. But you’re studying science stuff and if you can’t identify, quantify and understand shit you can’t handle it. Face it, you’re a fifteen year old nerd.”
“So you think I need to grow up?!” Danny sounded a little pissed because I’d called him a nerd but he was!
“Yea! I think you need to grow up! Don’t blame me for your shit. I’ve tried to explain how what I do doesn’t mean what you think it means. So, go to a bar, pick up some girl to fuck and maybe you’ll see how different being with her is from being with me.”
“Why do you think there will be a difference? You sure do have an inflated opinion of yourself, Ms. Queen Bee!”
“OH! Don’t you even think about me being the same as The Bug!”
“Why not? Both of you think your looks make you special. Lets you manipulate men like puppets.”
“Well, you think you’re special because you read books. Nerd!”
“Queen Bee!” Danny shouted back. Holding up a hand he stuck his little finger up into the air. “I’ll just go and read something before you try to wrap me around your little finger like you once said you could!”
“Then go because I don’t want you around my finger.”
“Good!”
“Fine!”
“I’m gone,” Danny said, walking to my door. “I’m behind on the shows I like. I can catch up now.”
“Fine!” I said as the door closed behind Danny. Raising my voice to be heard through the door, I yelled, “Spoiler Alert! Scooby-Doo solves the case!”
I flopped down on my sofa and let my mad out. The more I thought, the more my anger smoldered. I couldn’t figure out who’d won the argument! I thought some more and… I couldn’t figure out what the hell we were fighting about!
Somehow our fight had jumped from group sex to Scooby-Doo…
Well, at least I was sure it wasn’t my fault!
