Authors: Velvet
Nigel was shocked. He couldn’t believe that she was feeling him up underneath the table. Kennedy had been so strict about her no-sex rule; now she had done a complete about-face, and was acting like a woman who wanted to get fucked. He could feel himself getting hard at the thought of finally tasting her pussy. “I’m going to take this hard rod”—he pressed her hand farther down on his rising erection—“and ease it into you ever so gently, and then I’m going to take my time and make sweet love to you all night,” he whispered in her ear.
“Mmm,” she moaned, “that sounds greaaat!”
“Come on.” He took her free hand into his. “Let’s forget about lunch, go to my place, and take care of some long-overdue business.”
Lust was surging through Kennedy’s veins at a rapid pace, and she was ready to explode. “Okay, let’s go.”
“Waitress.” He waved the server over to pay for the wine.
As they waited for the waitress to bring back his credit card,
Kennedy began to have second thoughts. She wanted Nigel in the worst way, but she couldn’t get the failed relationships out of her mind. She was tired of making the same mistake over and over and over again. Kennedy wanted more than just sex from Nigel. She wanted a lasting relationship, and possibly marriage.
The waitress came back, and he began to sign his name.
“Wait a minute,” she blurted out before he finished signing.
“Yes, baby, what is it?” he asked, not looking up.
“You’re going to think I’m schizophrenic, but I’ve changed my mind. I can’t make love to you yet.” Though she had initiated the intimate contact, she couldn’t carry out the mission.
Nigel put the pen down and glared at her. “What? Why are you playing games, Kennedy? You feel me up. Get me all hot and ready, and now you’re saying no.” His dick was pulsating, and he wanted to release his weapon. He hadn’t been laid in months and was beyond horny. “This is crazy. We’re both consenting adults, and I don’t understand why we’re not fucking. I’ve been more than patient. Most guys that I know would not have waited nearly this long.”
Kennedy understood Nigel’s shift in attitude. She had turned him on, only to turn him off. She put her hand on top of his. “Please, don’t be upset with me, but I think we should wait.”
“Wait for what?” He raised his voice slightly.
“To get to know each other a little better,” Kennedy said, sounding like a teenager.
Nigel signed the check and tossed the pen on the table. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it before. Come on, let’s go. I’m not hungry anymore.”
Kennedy followed him to the door. Once they were outside, Nigel gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “I need to go back to the office. I just remembered something else I forgot.” Even though he was pissed, he hailed a taxi for her and opened the door for her to get in, like a true gentleman. “I’ll take the next one. Good-bye, Kennedy,” he said sternly, and shut the door.
She looked back as the cab pulled off, and Nigel was getting in another taxi. She watched until his cab turned the corner and was out of sight.
I hope this isn’t good-bye for good,
she thought, and rested her head on the back of the seat, suddenly regretting her decision.
JACOB SHOULD
have been exhausted from taking the red-eye across the pond, but he was running on sheer adrenaline. The excitement of his impending meeting had him wired like a kid waiting on his birthday. And he couldn’t wait to unwrap his present. Sitting impatiently in the backseat of a taxi as the driver cruised casually through the London streets on the way to the hotel, Jacob wanted to yell out for him to speed up, or better yet move over and let him drive. The driver was taking his sweet time, putting along well below the speed limit. Ordinarily this wouldn’t have bothered Jacob, but the clock was ticking and he planned to make the most of his time. Finally, after about forty minutes, they were easing up to the Ritz. Jacob paid the fare, told the driver to keep the change, and quickly got out. Thankfully, registration was swift, and within minutes, he was upstairs in his standard room. Picking up the phone next to the bed, Jacob punched in Mira’s number. After four rings, she answered. “Hello,” she said in a groggy voice.
“Mira. Jacob. Listen, I need that number,” he blurted into the phone without preamble.
“What number? What are you talking about? What time is it anyway?” she asked, totally clueless.
“You know, the number to that escort service you told me about,” he said, answering one question, ignoring the other two.
“Escort service? What escort service?” she asked, obviously still half-asleep. With the time difference, the sun had yet to rise in the States.
“The one with the stable full of thoroughbreds.”
“You mean the one in London,” she answered, finally catching on.
“Yep, that’s the one.” He smiled.
“I’ll give it to you the next time we’re there for a meeting. Right now, I’m going to get in a few more winks before the alarm clock rings,” she said, ready to disconnect the line.
“Wait, Mira, don’t hang up!” he shouted desperately. “I’m in London now and I need that number. I called you before I left, but you didn’t return my call.”
“I saw your call, but didn’t check the message. What are you doing in London? We’re not scheduled to meet with the board again until next quarter.”
“Let’s just say I’m here to jockey a thoroughbred.”
She began to laugh, finally catching on. “Oh, I get it now. Well, since you introduced me to your sister, I guess I can share my little secret. Just so you know, this information is normally under lock and key.”
What started off as a calamity—catching Mira in the act—had actually turned into a good thing, taking their business relationship to a personal one. They were now confidantes, safe-keepers of secrets. Jacob knew his escapades would be protected with Mira, as she knew hers would be with him. They both had too much to lose to be carelessly indiscreet.
“By the way, your sister is cute, but your wife is an absolute knockout. Why do you need an escort service when you have a thoroughbred of your own? Aren’t you getting any at home?” she asked curiously.
If she only knew that their love life was about as exciting as watching a one-legged stripper navigating the pole.
When he didn’t answer right away, she said, “Sorry, didn’t mean to pry. Anyway, the number is 881-6969. You know the country code. You have to tell them that I referred you, because they’re extremely private and operate on a referral basis only.”
Jacob desperately scribbled the digits on the writing pad sitting atop the nightstand, hung up, and dialed.
“Let Us Entertain You, Elaine speaking. How may I direct your call?” asked an extremely intelligent-sounding woman.
Though Jacob had never called an escort service or 900 number for that matter, he expected to hear a panting, come-hither voice on the other end of the line. But this woman spoke as if she were answering the switchboard of a Fortune 500 company instead of a hire-by-the-hour escort service. “Mira Rhone referred me,” he said, getting right to the point.
“Oh, yes, Ms. Rhone.” At the mention of Mira’s name, her voice became softer, and more feminine. “How can I help you this evening?”
“Uh, I’d like to . . .” The words suddenly stuck in his throat. He had fucked around before with random women he had met at bars when he was away on business trips, but never with an escort.
“To have a companion for the evening,” she said knowingly, completing his sentence.
“Yes, I’d like a companion for the evening,” Jacob said, finding his voice.
“Do you have a preference?”
“Uh, I . . .”
Sensing that he was an inexperienced novice, she began to
run down a laundry list of attributes. “Tall, dark, short, silicone-enhanced or au natural, blonde, brunette, or redhead?”
At the mention of redhead, Jacob flashed back to the fiery-headed vixen who was in the shower with Mira. From what he could see, her ripe, voluptuous boobs were au natural; though they appeared to be 38DDs, her tits didn’t have that solid-as-a-rock look. “How about the redhead?” he asked, hoping that the escort service didn’t have more than one.
“Oh, yes, Cinnamon, she’s one of our most popular girls. Let me check her schedule,” she said, putting him on hold. After a few minutes, she came back on the line. “You’re in luck, she’s available tonight. Her minimum is three hours, at two hundred and fifty pounds an hour. Or if you want the overnight rate, it’s a flat fifteen hundred,” she said casually, as if it were Monopoly money.
Damn,
fifteen hundred dollars
for three hours. She must have an arsenal of tricks in her goodie bag,
Jacob thought converting the pounds to dollars. “I’ll take the minimum.” He didn’t want to commit to overnight, just in case she fell short of his expectations.
“Will you be putting that on a major credit card or paying cash?” she asked, sealing the transaction.
He dug his wallet out of his pocket and quickly counted the bills. Jacob didn’t have that much cash on him, but he surely wasn’t about to create a paper trail and bill it to a credit card. “Cash. I’ll pay cash.”
“Before I send her over, I’ll need some information from you.”
His heart began to race. He hadn’t expected to divulge name, rank, and serial number. “What type of information?” he asked skeptically.
Sensing his hesitation, she said, “Our records are kept strictly confidential, but I’ll need your driver’s license number and a major credit card for our files.”
“Why do you need a credit card number if I’m paying cash?”
“It’s for our records, Mr. . . . uh, what did you say your name
was?” she asked, finally realizing that the only name he had given her was that of his referral.
If Mira felt secure leaving her information with them, then Jacob assumed it was safe. He reluctantly gave up the data, because he surely didn’t want to give up a much-anticipated night of pleasure.
“Okay, Mr. Reed, you’re all set. Cinnamon should be knocking on your door within the hour,” she said, after taking the required information.
With the transaction completed, they both hung up. Jacob wanted to shower, but first had to run downstairs and write a check payable to cash. Luckily, the cashier was still on duty, solving his dilemma. Back in his room, he tore off his clothes and hopped into the shower. No sooner had Jacob turned off the pulsating spray than the doorbell buzzed.
She’s early,
he thought and quickly wrapped a towel around his waist, rushing out of the bathroom. His heart was pounding with excitement as he turned the knob and opened the door. Standing before him was a tall, curvaceous woman dressed conservatively in a black coat with the belt snugly tightened around her waist. Her hair was stuffed underneath a matching fedora with strands of red peeking out.
“You’re all wet,” she said, looking at the water dripping from his body, “and I will be too in a minute.” She brushed past him and sauntered into the bedroom.
Jacob locked the door behind her and watched as she dropped her duffel bag on the floor near the bed. She turned around, crooked her finger at him, and whispered, “Come here. Once we take care of the financials, we can start having some fun.
His feet seemed to be planted into the carpet fibers. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t move. Jacob was paralyzed with excitement. The only body part moving was his growing sex. He could feel it pushing against the terry-cloth towel. He handed over the envelope of cash without saying a word.
She quickly counted the money, came over to him, and whispered seductively in his ear, “Don’t you want to unwrap your present now?”
He unbuckled her belt and watched her coat ease open, exposing the best present he’d ever received—a beautiful pair of 38DDs. Her bare breasts swung free as her coat drifted to the floor. Jacob reached out and fondled the soft mounds of flesh, pinching her large nipples until they firmed to his touch. As he expected, there was nothing artificial about her voluptuousness. His mouth began to water for the taste of her, but before he could get a mouthful, she ripped off his towel, dropped to her knees, and covered his waiting sex with her wet tongue. The fedora came tumbling off as he grabbed her red hair and forced himself deeper into her mouth. She didn’t flinch, just sucked faster and harder until he was on the verge of coming. Feeling the hot cum rising to the top, he tried to withdraw, but she grabbed his butt, pressing his dick farther into her mouth. “I’m cumming! I’m cumming!” he screamed in ecstasy, shooting his hot load down her deep throat. She got up, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and said, “Is that all you got?”
So this is what a pro does,
he thought, then smirked and said, “That’s just an appetizer. Now get your ass on the bed and I’ll show you what I’m working with.”
She turned around and strutted butt naked over to the bed. For a white girl, she had the best ass he had ever seen—round and tight. His dick began to swell again at the thought of penetrating that ass. She bent over and unzipped her bag. He came up close behind and began grinding his now rock-hard penis against her, trying to spread apart her cheeks.
“Just a second,” she said, standing up. “Let me pop one of these.” She held out her hand toward him. “Want one?”
Jacob looked in her palm at the two small pills. “What’s that?”
“Ecstasy. It’ll make you feel really, really lovely. Try one,” she said, popping a pill into her mouth.
He wasn’t into drugs, but had read a report on the love drug, as Ecstasy was often referred to. The article said that Ecstasy, which was man-made, heightened the senses, making the user feel euphoric and extremely sexual. “No, thanks.” He didn’t need a jump-start. His senses were already heightened at the thought of penetrating her where he would never dream of touching his wife.
“Suit yourself,” she said, popping the second pill in her mouth. She then spread-eagled on the bed and began fondling her breast with one hand while massaging her clit with the other. “Now where were we?”
Jacob stood at the edge of the bed and watched as she brought herself close to orgasm. When she was on the brink, he said, “Turn over.”