Chapter Three

Nine Months Past...

I'd been meeting with clients for a couple of weeks when I got a text from Marla asking for a face-to-face after satisfying my last client. Marla had been great about letting me stash newly bought clothes and shoes in boxes I was stacking in the storage closet next to her office. There was no way I could explain these expensive and very risqué clothes to my mom. Dresses showing so much bosom above and so much thigh below would have Mom reaching for a drink. Then another and another... I couldn't even imagine what she would say about my beloved black leather, thigh length boots with stiletto heels.

Something told me I was wearing out my welcome to Marla's storage closet and her bathroom where I changed clothes. I was right on both counts. When I got to her office, Marla didn't look happy. "Viv, I've been patient. Letting you fill my storage closet with your things. Letting you use my bathroom to change in and put on make-up. My patience is at an end. You need to move out of my office soon! It's past time for you to have your own apartment."

"I know. I know, Marla. It's just... I can't seem to save enough money," I explained. Money seemed to flow through my fingers faster than cum through a client's dick. There was always another pair of shoes I just had to have!

Marla looked astonished. "You don't have the money!? Viv, you're sitting on an ass that I charge clients a very high price to use! A very high price of which you get a very good cut. Really, Viv, have you no self-control?"

Of course I didn't. Not wanting to admit it though, I just hung my head and stayed quiet. Marla looked at me slouching in her chair and frowned. "Speaking of sitting, young lady, posture is the first thing a client notices."

I sat up with my back ramrod straight and smiled guilelessly, relieved the subject of my lack of fiscal responsibility seemed over. "I thought it was my big tits men noticed first."

"Tits will get you only so far, Viv. My clients aren't paying me top dollar for common street whores! They want poise and sophistication in addition to blow jobs. It's best you begin cultivating those attributes along with your oral skills. If all a man wants is a dick sucking whore, he can find those standing on any corner of Fifth Street. If a man wants a young lady who enjoys giving oral sex, he comes to me."

Marla leaned back against her chair's back (with perfect posture, of course!) and tapped a manicured fingernail on her desk. "Viv, it's your money. I can't tell you how to spend it. But I can suggest you put together enough to get an apartment before you buy more dresses and shoes! I know exactly how much you're earning since I'm the one depositing the money into your bank account."

Marla went quiet and made a decision. "All right! Here's the deal..."

Marla pointed a slim finger at me. "By next Friday you will have an apartment. Any box in my storage room past that date gets tossed. Any makeup cluttering my office bathroom gets shit canned. To help you earn enough money quickly, I have a client who wants three girls this Saturday. It's a bachelor party. A car will be outside my office at 4 PM to pick you and the other girls up. The party will last until 4 AM Sunday morning. Needless to say, the fee you'll get for a twelve-hour party with fifteen or so men should be more than enough for you to rent any apartment you find next week."

"Fifteen!" The thought of that many men fucking me was frightening. "But, Marla, it's the weekend. I can't tell my Mom I'm working..." I began trying to weasel my way out of this 'party'.

"Don't even try, Viv." The slender finger was pointed at me again for emphasis. "Tell your mom you're doing a sleepover with a girl you met at an office you're working at or something. This one appointment Saturday night will earn you enough money that you can spend the next week apartment hunting. I mean it, Viv! Next Friday you're out of here or all those beautiful dresses and shoes cluttering up my storage closet go into a dumpster!"

"Not my shoes!"

I was horrified. It was sinking in that Marla meant every word. I only had four clients scheduled between now and next Friday. I needed cash in the bank now to go apartment hunting. If it took letting fifteen men fuck me to save my shoes... I slumped in my chair and nodded, resigned to my fate, "Okay, I'll be here Saturday."

Marla smiled. She'd won but wasn't going to gloat. "By the way, Viv, have you ever been with a woman? Have you ever wondered..."

"What? I thought you said fifteen men!"

"Fifteen or so men and two more of my girls. I'd be astonished if my client doesn't want some girl-on-girl-on-girl action at some point to entertain his guests."

"I, ahh... I thought about it a couple of times watching porn. Ah, there was this one girl in high school. She was part of our group and she didn't make it a secret that she'd, ahh, you know, been with other girls," I hesitantly admitted. "But no, I've never been with a girl that way."

"I don't like the idea of sending a virgin to a job this large," Marla said thoughtfully and then smiled as she picked up her phone. After checking her iPhone's schedule book, she auto dialed a number. "Sandra? I have a client for you. Tomorrow. 10 AM. Female. Two hours." Marla listened for a few moments then looked at me and smiled. "She's gorgeous and Sandra? She's a virgin. Do everything to make sure no part of her is virginal when she leaves… Thank you, Sandra. I'll text you where to meet later."

I listened to Marla's side of the conversation and my mouth dropped open as I realized that she was scheduling me as a client!

"10 AM, tomorrow," Marla told me in her no-nonsense voice after hanging up. "I'll text you the hotel and room number. I'll pay for Sandra and the room and deduct it from your future pay. Congratulations, Ms. Olivia. You just booked your first call girl."

The Present...

Walking into a hotel in the middle of the day, dressed as I am, used to frighten me. I just knew everyone was whispering about me. Knew I was a whore meeting a guy for sex. Now my stride was quick and confident. I didn't care what other people thought. The room number had been texted to my phone. I didn't need to stop to ask what room Tim occupied. I gave the elevator's camera and anyone watching the CCTV a smile and a little finger-wave before hiking the hem of my dress up another inch. With a hand between skin and dress, I gave my boobs a lift to show more cleavage. The man who answered my knock was a regular of mine. He always asked Marla for me and we've managed to meet at least once or twice a month for many months now when his schedule permitted.

After the door closed behind me, I let Tim pull me into a long, stand-up kiss. He smiled into our kiss when his roving hands moved up under my dress to discover I wasn't wearing panties. While his hands continued to explore my ass crack and cheeks, I pulled back from our kiss. Nibbling on his ear, I asked, "What's your excuse this time?"

"I'm meeting a prospective investor over a long lunch," Tim replied. He released me after giving my ass cheeks a final, hard squeeze. I pulled the hem of my dress down as he walked to the mini-bar and came back with two bourbons over ice. I have a strict rule of not drinking anything that might have been spiked. "You're not trying to roofie me, are you," I asked as I took the offered glass.

Tim laughed, took my glass back and took a healthy sip. After handing me my glass again, Tim reached under my dress to cup my pussy. Sliding a finger inside me, he asked, "Now, Viv. Why would I need to roofie a sure thing?" That was certainly true. I'd learned at high school parties how to shotgun beer, tossing back a shot of cold bourbon was no problem though I shuddered as it burned all the way down and exploded in my stomach. Tim laughed at my eww-that's-awful facial expressions as my drink disappeared and sipped his. Moving to separate his fingers from between my legs, I pulled the hem of my dress down before taking two more small bottles from the minibar. As I topped off Tim's drink and refilled mine, Tim laughed again, "Are you trying to get me drunk, Viv?"

Putting my glass down on the counter, this time it was my time to laugh as I reached to loosen his tie, "Now, Tim. Why would I need to get a sure thing drunk?"

Sipping our drinks, we took turns loosening and losing clothing. Maneuvering Tim further into the room, I pushed him onto the small couch in the suite. Tim likes to take his time with me. He never seems to rush. After I sat down next to Tim, he demonstrated again that he loves tits by playing with and sucking on my tits for long minutes until my nipples were hard and aching in his mouth.

I finished my drink with small sips while Tim took his time sucking on my tits as hands continued to explore my ass and pussy. Sliding two fingers up my pussy, he was pleased to find that I was already wet for him. I was wet from entertaining a client just before meeting Tim, but he didn't need to know that. Better to let him think he was the reason for my moist pussy. There was a clock alarm on a table by the bed. I glanced at it while holding Tim hard to my breast. I knew Tim liked to take his time. I also knew that he needed to come twice for me to get a big gift. It was time to get our first time together over with so he'd have time to rest up for a second.

Pulling Tim away from my breast, I laughed, "I think you only love my tits."

"There is sooo much more I love about you, Viv."

"Tell me," I said as I pushed Tim to sit back on the couch before kneeling on the floor to remove his shoes, pants and briefs.

"I love your beautiful face," Tim began as I unbuckled his belt. "I love your incredible body. Your height. I love how I'm relaxed around you. I even love how we talk without arguing. God, that's so damned rare at my house. And, of course, I love how tight your pussy is."

I pulled Tim's underwear down and off. Tossing them aside, I took his shaft in my fist and stroked it. Pre-cum formed on the tip and I leaned over to quickly lick it off. "Oh, my God," Tim breathed. "I really love how you suck my cock."

Pushing Tim's knees open, I leaned over and let him watch me run my tongue tip up the length of his shaft to circle the head of his cock. With my lips feather touching Tim's shaft near his balls, I met his eyes. "Do you mean how I suck your cock like this," I asked softly as I continued to lick up and down his shaft while with one hand I played with his balls.

"Or do you mean how I suck your cock like this," I asked as I moved slightly forwards between his legs. Tim sucked in air as I rose up to take his tip in my mouth and in one move, took all that he had to the back of my throat. I held my head still. With the soft flesh of the head of his cock pressed hard against the back of my mouth, the only movement was of my rasping tongue pressing and moving against his shaft.

When I pulled back slightly to breathe, Tim gave his answer by twining his fingers in my hair to pull my mouth back down the length of his cock. I pulled his hands away and began alternating between sucking and licking his cock in a more leisurely pace while he watched and finished his drink. Rising from my knees I took his glass and set it aside. Straddling his legs, I lightly gripped Tim's cock as I opened my legs wider until I sank down enough to feel the brush of his cock tip. I tightened my fingers around Tim's cock and moved it around my slit slowly to wet the tip.

"Do you know what I love most about you, Viv," Tim asked suddenly.

"What," I asked softly just as I put the tip to my hole.

"I love that you're not my shrew of a wife," he replied as I slowly began impaling myself on his cock.

"You showed me a picture of her. I'm glad I'm not her, too," I laughed before leaning forwards to kiss Tim. Tim's tongue filled my mouth even as his cock filled my pussy.

I love that first penetration of my pussy as I'm stretched and filled. I moved slowly to prolong that feeling. Rising before sinking down slowly to take more cock. I Mmm'd out my pleasure as I took all of Tim inside me and whispered, "God, your cock feels so good inside me."

Tim was greedily trying to suck my entire tit into his mouth again when, grasping Tim's hair, I pulled his mouth away from my hard nipple. Leaning over further, I filled his mouth with my tongue instead. Twerking my hips, with slow movements I fucked his cock until it was sliding easily in my pussy.

Once I had him inside me, it wasn't long before his hands left my tits to grasp and still my hips. All I had to do was breathe, "Fuck me" into Tim's mouth and he began thrusting upwards with hard, fast thrusts. Bouncing me upwards before hands pulled me down onto his cock over and over. I put my hands on the back of the couch to either side of his head and leaned forwards just enough to brush my hard nipples lightly across his lips. I teased Tim by pulling back before he could capture one with his mouth. When he moaned he was coming and pulled me hard to his lap, I felt his cock pulse and I knew he'd left his cum deep inside me. I held still until he sighed his completion, only then did I let him capture his reward. His breathing slowed while he sucked hard on my nipple.

I stayed motionless as I let Tim feast on one tit, then the other with mouth and hands. With a long, throaty Mmm of pleasure again, I pulled Tim's mouth harder to my breast. "God, I love feeling a man come inside me."

"I doubt it feels as good to you as it does to me," Tim replied as he finally let loose of my breasts and relaxed into the back of the couch.

In truth, with clients, the pleasure I feel is mostly in the knowledge that I'll be finished soon and can go home.

Rising up and off Tim's dick, I held myself motionless as gravity did its job. We both watched as his large load dripped from my gaped pussy lips to pool on his stomach. Running my fingertips up my slit to capture any remaining cum, I let Tim watch me lick my fingers clean before kneeling on the floor between his legs again, I pulled my hair back and out of the way so it wouldn't drag through the wet pool. Tim reached with his hand to help control my long hair and contentedly watched as I chased every drop of cum with my tongue until his stomach was clean.

Shortly afterwards we were relaxing on the bed with fresh drinks. I'd over-indulged and was on my fourth drink so I took slow sips. The tip of my nose was slightly numb from the three drinks I'd already had. Shot-gunning bourbon on an empty stomach is a dangerous thing to do. Tim did most of the talking.

Tim is some kind of financial lawyer. He puts deals together, sets up shell companies, moves money around and basically does everything he can to let his clients pay as little in taxes as possible. As usual, Tim spewed about all the crap he'd had to put up with from bosses at work and his wife and kids at home since the last time we'd met. All the while I tried to listen attentively. After so many previous meetings, by now I knew the names of his wife, kids, and co-workers. I knew enough about them to offer advice about Tim's youngest who wanted to drop out of college in her senior year.

Mental therapists charge shit loads of money per hour in this city. Two hours of my time was a bargain for Tim, and I did something better for my clients than just validating parking. In truth? Giving Tim an attentive audience and the time to get all this crap out of his system once or twice a month probably did more for him than my letting him leave two loads of cum in me.

But cum, not psychology, is my business. I was determined to get a good tip and glancing at the clock I knew I had to act. While Tim talked, I put my hand on his cock and started slow-stroking until it was hard. Moving to straddle his hips, again I impaled myself on his cock. While I rode him cowgirl, I resisted when he tried to pull me down so he could suck on my nipples again. Playfully, I kept fending off the hands trying to pull me down. Leaning down to tease him, I let Tim bury his face between my tits before pulling away.

Laughing, I kissed Tim and teased, "No. Not this time you greedy boy. I did all the work last time, so you don't get my tits again until you give me what I want!" I whispered what I wanted in his ear while kissing the sweet, sensitive spot everyone, men and women, seem to have on their neck. "I want to be fucked long and hard!"

Now that Tim knew how to earn his 'reward', I was squealing at how quickly he moved to put me on my back. Tim isn't a young man, he was maybe in his early fifties. Having come just a short while ago I was certain I'd be fucked quite a long time as he earned his reward for services rendered. I spread my legs wider as he began to thrust hard. The slide of his cock filling me as his weight pressed me into the mattress felt so good. Tim was always a decent lover. His cock was average and he had love handles, but he'd kept himself in decent shape and he had stamina. With long, passionate kisses as our tongues tried to enter each other's mouths as deeply as his cock entered my pussy, we began a missionary fuck which ended with him propped up on his arms while thrusting his cock into me. Tim was pounding my pussy lips so hard my breaths came in gasps between grunted words as I urged him on to fuck me harder. HARDER!

I love it when my job is also pleasant. Tim was sweaty and gasping for air when he finally pressed hard between my legs as he came. Moving my hips to grind against his groin had my clit tingling. I was very pleasantly surprised at how good I felt between my thighs. I hadn't orgasmed but everything between my legs was telling me I'd been fucked good, long and hard.

As Tim rested above me, still on locked arms, after a few more seconds I reached up to pull his head down and let him have his reward. I was content to lie still while feeling his still hard cock move inside me as he sucked on my nipples until they ached. But... alas, there's always a 'but' as Marla had once told me... the time on the alarm clock was telling me it was time to end.

That's what I had to tell Tim. If he'd requested more time, after a short call to Marla, I would have said Yes. Both for the extra money and for the orgasm I knew I'd have if just from masturbating while Tim watched. Rolling off me, he seemed content with a short blowjob to clean his cock and to watch me pad about in my garter, stockings, and high heels. Fixing us another drink, I took Tim his and told him I was going to use the powder room. Carrying my drink and handbag I went into the bathroom but left the door open so we could talk.

Opening my legs wider than my usual stance, I began using a damp washcloth to wipe away Tim's sweat and cum. After inserting a tampon so cum wouldn't wet my dress during the taxi ride home, I dropped the washcloth and used my foot to swipe it over the tiles of the floor to clean up the cum that had dripped from my pussy.

Back in the room, I let Tim watch me dress. Men seem to become mesmerized while watching a large-breasted girl putting on a brassiere. As I finished the last of my drink, Tim said he'd left me a gift on the mini-bar counter. Putting the envelope in my handbag, I found my lipstick and used the mirror behind the minibar to apply a thick, red coating to my lips.

Tim had a knowing grin on his face as I approached the bed. He knew from previous encounters what I was about to do. I'm not exactly sure when red lipstick became my 'thing'. But sometime in the last few months, I'd found that leaving a client I liked a reminder of me brought much repeat business as well as nice gifts. Days scheduled with repeat clients I liked meant having to meet less often with clients I didn't like. Win-win for me! None of my PCs, 'Preferred Customers', had yet to complain. Tim stopped breathing as I leaned over the bed and took my time pressing a bright red kiss mark onto the bulb of his cock.

"So, I'm still one of your preferred customers," Tim asked while looking at my red brand on the head of his dick. I laughed. With a nod and a finger wave, I exited the room.

In the taxi, I counted the gift, the nice gift, Tim had given me on the way back to my apartment. Next week was my nineteenth birthday and I was taking the day off to spend with my mom. Window shopping in the mall and a lunch. Then home for the birthday cake with a few girlfriends. Tim's gift went a long way to making up for a lost day of pay.

Tim was my only client of the day. Back in my apartment, after removing my makeup and showering, I had time to do the housework I'd been putting off during busy days. Dusting, sweeping, and a bit of mopping in my underwear while dancing to some favorite tunes. After dressing in my 'suburban' clothes again, I stopped at the Coffee Clutch on my way to the train stop. A light snack was just what I needed to keep my blood sugar up for the train ride home.

Chapter Four

Five Months Past...

"Master, I think the rope should have gone through the other loop first," I helpfully observed.

"Slave, I told you never to speak unless I give you permission," Master replied in a commanding voice and spanked my ass several times as I whined and groveled, begging his forgiveness. His spanking swats stung my already reddened ass cheeks but not nearly as much as I was acting. I've actually found that spanking makes me wet. When I'd admitted that to Sandra during one of our drunken nights, she'd enthusiastically agreed! 'Tie me up, spank my ass and fuck me hard? Oh, Baby! You've got yourself one happy whore!'

I was naked and on my knees in front of Master. With my head down in submission, I had a good view of the rope I was being tied with. The rope he was looping about my waist slackened as he knelt beside me to look at the paper drawing near our knees.

Sometimes a whore will have clients with very specific fantasies. Something beyond blow jobs and sex in whatever position they fancied. One of the very first things I've learned as a whore is, to be a good whore you have to be a decent actress. To give the client what he wants, you have to become the character the client sees in his fantasy. Like now... In my mind, I'm playing the part of a poor damsel captured by a ruthless rogue. Helplessly tied up, tortured, and eventually ravished by my new Master. Oh, my! Whatever shall become of me?

Yea, well, I wasn't going to hold my breath while waiting for the ravishing to begin. We were well over an hour into our session and I was yet to be tied up. Master smoothed out the paper lying on the faux bearskin rug and took his time studying several complex diagrams of ropes crisscrossing over drawn female forms. He finally nodded his head. "I think you're right, Viv. I mean... Silence, Slave," I was commanded with another series of hard slaps to my ass.

I glanced at the clock. I hated to disappoint Master but... Dropping out of character I began untangling my arms from the half-completed rope bindings. "Charlie, I'm sorry but this just isn't going to work," I told him with a gentle hand on his shoulder, trying to let him down easy. "Your new design is just too complex to be completed in two hours even without the pictures you'll want to take. I wish I could give you more time, but I just can't. Not today."

I didn't explain why. When I turned down requests from clients to stay longer, I never gave a reason. I just let them assume I had another client to see. Charlie looked at his watch and muttered a quiet, Damn! Then he nodded, agreeing with me.

Charlie was in his mid-fifties and a high mucky muck at one of the nation's largest ad agencies. His 'thing' was ropes and knots. He's loved them since he was a Boy Scout learning to tie his first clover hitch. Then he got older and discovered girls. At some point, he discovered the Japanese art of Kinbaku/Shibari, Tight Binding. Suddenly he'd found his passions merging together.

Charlie was a member of a small group of men scattered across the globe. They spent hours, days, designing rope decorations and then more untold amounts of time and money bringing those designs to life with willing men and women. They also exchanged photos of women and men bound in various combinations of rope decoration along with pictures, diagrams, and instructions on how to tie the patterns.

Charlie and I have been meeting once, sometimes twice a month in a studio that no one except us knew he had. When Marla had told me she had a request from a client for a tall woman who would agree to be tied up, I'd hesitated at first. Being tied to a bed and fucked for two hours might be okay, but... One never knew with new clients if there was a wolf lurking underneath the sheep's clothing, but... The large amount of money offered was too good to pass up.

Charlie turned out to be a teddy bear under the sheepskin exterior. During our first session, we hadn't even had sex. Instead, Charlie had proudly given me a tour of his studio, dark room, and a simply fabulous collection of expensive cameras and other equipment. Sitting on his couch, he'd given me a verbal and visual tour through an album of women tied in intricate rope decorations so I'd get the feel of what he wanted to do. Afterward, I'd stripped, Charlie spent the remainder of our session photographing my body in different poses from my toes to my hair to see how I 'showed on film'.

He's requested me ever since our first appointment because of my long legs, narrow waist, and large boobs. I'm long waisted and Charlie insists that rope decorations just look better on women who have several more inches of slender skin between pussy and tits than shorter women. It's the same reason he loves binding and photographing my long legs. Charlie likes my large boobs because, well... What man doesn't like large boobies?

Not all of Charlie's prior decorations were as elaborate as what he'd tried today. Some were very simple. The photography actually took longer as he posed me in one position after another. Charlie began his career in advertising as a photographer. As he rose up through the corporate hierarchy, he never lost his passion for photography, women, and Kinbaku/Shibari. Now that he has the money to indulge in his passions, he spares no expense. There's always wine and a selection of delicacies for me to munch on while Charlie arranges lights and settings for our next shoot. There are several pictures of me out in the world now, all tastefully photographed and none showing my face enough that I'd be recognizable.

Charlie didn't pay me to be just a mannequin. He could have afforded models if that was all he wanted. He chose to pay for a Call Girl. Once I was bound in the way he wanted that day, Charlie didn't always spend the remainder of our time just photographing me. Some of the photos Charlie shared with his fellow enthusiasts showed tributes of cum to my stomach, ass, or tits. More and more often, the photos were of cum welling from my pussy with rope to either side of my pussy.

Charlie like experimenting with different ropes. Thick, thin, course-and-rough, or smooth. Even trying different colors. The rope Charlie was using today felt like air sliding through my fingers as I helped loop it into coils. Marla special ordered the rope and I delivered it when we met so it wouldn't go to Charlie's mailbox where his wife might see. Silk rope cost a small fortune but Charlie had the means to order rope by the mile if he wanted.

I took another quick glance at the clock. I try not to clock-watch when I'm with a client. I also don't short-change my clients on time. Charlie still had just over thirty paid-for minutes of my time before I needed to get dressed. I walked to where the small buffet was on the counter and drank a glass of wine while munching on a few buttery crackers coated with a creamy, cheesy spinach dip. I expected Charlie to request quick sex in the time remaining or, or something... Pouring a second glass of the excellent red, I looked over at Charlie and shook my head in amusement. I'm not used to being ignored while standing naked in the same room as a client. Especially while wearing fuck-me stiletto heels.

I poured Charlie a glass of wine and sat next to him on the studio's sofa. He was still studying the diagram. Handing him his drink, I slid the paper out of his hand. "I'm tired of being ignored, Charlie," I pouted as if he hadn't just spent well over an hour wrapping me in rope. Leaning over to kiss him, I continued to pout, "Instead of a paper drawing of a woman why not look at a real one?"

Turning slightly to face one another, we sipped our wine. "I have been looking at you. Viv, I was a photographer for ten years before moving up to a new job in the company. I photographed some of the world's top models for ad campaigns. You're right at the top with them. I'm really lucky to have found you as my model."

"Speaking of 'really lucky', we don't have much time left, but what if I tied you up and had my way with your body? Maybe a little something to help you forget the disappointment of not getting your knots tied today," I asked, reaching over to lightly run my hand over a cock that was getting noticeably hard under his trousers.

"Gee, I don't know, Viv. I'm very, very disappointed," Charlie said. Sliding his butt towards the edge of the cushion, he closed his eyes and smiled as I un-did his trousers enough to pull his cock from the zipper opening. When my hand began stroking his hardening shaft, Charlie dreamily asked. "What knot would you use to tie me up with? Granny or square knot?"

Bringing my legs together to kneel on the couch, I pointed his tip up with my hand and leaned in ready to try and bring him in the short time we had left. "Oh, nothing so common as those for you. I'd use the double fisherman knot."

My lips were about to meet the tip of Charlie's cock when he jerked away and sat up. He was astonished and all thoughts of receiving a blow job had vanished as he asked in amazement, "How the heck do you even know about the double fisherman?"

"I web-searched knots to surprise you, but I didn't have time to learn how it's tied."

"I'll teach you!" A very happy Charlie was trying to rise to his feet to get to his beloved rope before my hand on his chest pushed him back against the cushion.

"Next time," I said in a tone that brooked no disobedience. This time my lips reached his cock.

Charlie's cock was medium size and I had no trouble taking his entire length. The tip was tickling the back of my mouth, but I wasn't in any danger of gagging as I began bobbing my head over his crotch rapidly. Using my hand when I needed to raise my head up to swallow spit, I alternated mouth and hand on his cock. I was hoping Charlie would come quickly and he did. I had just the head of his cock in my mouth while using my hand to rapidly stroke his shaft when Charlie stiffened and groaned he was coming. I took him deep, my lips and nose pressed hard against his pubis and moments later the first spurt of hot cum coated my throat.

I continued to suck and lick his cock as more cum hit the back of my throat until Charlie relaxed with a soft, "Ohh, damn that was good."

I tried not to let any of the cum in my mouth spill as I moved my lips slowly up the shaft until only the sensitive bulb of his cock remained in my mouth. Running my tongue over the sensitive head, I milked the shaft with my hand before raising up onto my knees. Charlie watched as I swallowed and grinned as I licked my lips. Grasping his wrist, I turned it until I could read his watch. Patting his thigh, I said, "Hate to suck and run but I need to get going. We're over our time already."

Charlie had a dreamy look on his face as he watched me push a small amount of cum in the corner of my mouth past my lips. My days of never having swallowed cum were far in the past. "Have Marla charge me for the extra time. It was worth it," Charlie told me as he zipped up his pants.

I hadn't needed to suck Charlie off. He would have been thrilled just showing me how to tie rope. But another lesson I've learned in my short time as a whore? For the big tips? Always suck and swallow...

Getting to my feet I hurried to where my clothes were draped over a chair. With no cummy mess between my legs to clean, I was able to dress quickly. Though disappointed I was leaving, most of my clients liked watching me dress. I'm not usually in such a hurry and I'll take my time as they watch. Not today though. It was Friday and I wanted to begin my weekend. Finding my bra, I positioned it with the hook in the front, hooked it, turned the hook to my back, quick arms up into the straps, grasp the bottom of the bra, pull out slightly, and shake my girls to rest comfortably in the cups. All finished in under six seconds.

Charlie didn't care what I wore to our sessions. He was more interested in how I wore his latest Kinbaku creation. Comfortable jeans and t-shirt, exchange fuck-me stilettos for socks and running shoes... I continued to dress quickly as we exchanged small talk about scheduling our next session. Checking my cell phone calendar, I had an open afternoon in ten days, and Charlie agreed he'd call Marla to book me. In the bathroom, I ran a brush through my hair. I was putting on a heavy coat of lipstick using the mirror when he asked if I'd do four hours. I agreed but called out, "Charlie, the lattice work looks pretty complicated. I don't think even four hours will be enough to do the photographs you'll want afterward. I'll leave my schedule open in case you want more time."

Marla would charge extra for one of her girls to be tied up (pun intended) with only one man for six hours instead of satisfying two of her clientele in that same span of time. Charlie had money so he'd pay it. I was already banking the extra money in my imagination as I exited the bathroom and got my shit together. I was in a hurry, but I didn't rush when I went to my knees and gave Charlie the special Mark of Excellence I reserved for only my PCs, Preferred Customers. Amazing how leaving a red kiss on the tip of a cock brought me so many repeat clients as well as fat gifts. Speaking of gifts, Charlie handed me an envelope as I was ready to open the door. I gave him a big, red kiss on the cheek. Laughing, I yelled, 'Don't forget to wash your face!', as I ran down the alley towards the street.

**********

Charlie was the only client I'd agreed to see today. I felt slightly guilty for 'ending work' early but with a hefty bank balance while hundred dollar bills from gifts continued to rise to a respectable level in the FLOUR tin on my kitchen counter, I wasn't feeling very guilty I'd turned down a paying client when Marla called. I spent much of my day doing housework. I'd just collected my clean laundry from the laundromat down the street and was in a hurry to get back to my warm apartment and out of the Winter cold. I was dragging my wheeled laundry hamper behind me when I heard a quiet, almost reverential, "Whooaaa, baaabyyy."

Walking into a cold wind that streamed my long hair behind me, I'd kept my head down and hadn't been paying much attention to my surroundings. Looking, I saw a young guy who'd just exited his apartment building. He was looking back and I had the feeling his words were meant for me. Pretty positive the long, low whistle that followed was for my ass framed in tight jeans since most of my torso was covered by the fleece lined aviator jacket I had on to ward off the cold. Some girls are pissed at conduct like that. Me, I kinda like looking good enough to get a wolf whistle. Sure enough, just moments later the guy was beside my shoulder, matching his steps to mine.

"Hey, my name is Greg." Close to me, Greg noticed I was a little taller than his 5'11'. Seeing that I was wearing sneakers and not heels, he grinned, "Man, I love tall women."

Not breaking my stride, I waited for more and then gave him a long look, "That's it? That's all you've got as a pick-up line?"

"You're tough. I like that," Greg said, still grinning. "Would a pick-up line work with you?"

"Not even for a moment," I replied, but gave up my 'stern face' and grinned back. Greg was only a little older than me and had a nice face and a trim body. It seemed like months since I'd talked to a man under forty. It felt good to go through a Boy-Meets-Girl-Dance. "I'm Olivia."

"Do you live around here, Olivia? I sure as hell would remember if I'd seen you before."

We stopped at a street crossing to wait for the traffic light to change and I nodded at my brownstone across the street. "Dammit! We're next-door neighbors. Why the hell haven't I seen you before now," Greg asked again. I didn't answer. How to explain that I wasn't even here very much. I was either out seeing clients or I was home with Mom and Dad.

"Okay," Greg continued as the light changed and I stepped off the curb. Keeping stride for stride with me, Greg spread his hands from his sides, "Okay, here's my best pick-up line. I don't have much time so I'm going to break with all customs and be totally honest. In a month I graduate and I'll be moving away for an intern job. Would you consider dating, maybe even having many, many romantic, erotic nights with a guy you'll never see again?"

I stopped in front of the steps of my brownstone and laughed, "Now that's a great pick-up line!"

"Did it work?"

"A date? Yes. The romantic, erotic nights?" I went silent to consider. Greg was a very nice-looking young man. His tight, young body and unwrinkled face appealed to me after having a long diet of soft men my father's and even my grandfather's age. Greg stood quietly in anticipation of my answer. To delay, I gave a circular motion with a finger, "Give me a twirl."

"What?"

"You checked my butt out. Give me a twirl so I can check you out."

"I don't twirl. I've never twirled in my life," Greg said, but he did do a slow 360 turn. Nice, tight butt cheeks in the rear and what appeared to be a nice bulge in the front of his jeans. "Do you want to count my teeth, too?"

"Not necessary," I replied and considered. "Tonight... Eight o'clock... I'll meet you here on the steps. Let's see how a date goes before I decide about romantic and erotic nights."

I didn't wait for a reply and wheeled my hamper up the steps.

I already had an idea how I wanted our date to end. Being direct and honest works with me just as much as being handsome and scrumptious. Greg combined both. Inside, I called Sandra and asked her to cover for me with my parents by saying I'd be spending a 'girl's night' with her. "You know the drill. We work together at the temp agency, blah-blah-blah. Tell Mom I said I was going home to get clothes for tomorrow and I must have forgotten to turn my phone on. Leave a message for me to remember to bring popcorn."

"Are you seeing a client tonight?"

"Nope, I have a date. A real, boy-asks-girl-out date," I replied brightly.

"I almost remember those," Sandra laughed. "So, you're planning on making your date into an all-nighter?"

"He's pretty cute, so fingers crossed."

Sandra had called by the time I got home. My cover-story of staying with a friend for a girl's night of popcorn and movies passed with flying colors. I put a few things in a bag and promised that I'd remember to get some popcorn. I was back at my apartment by 6 PM. I had plenty of time to get ready for my first date in months. Or so I thought. I kept changing my mind on what to wear! Which perfume! Which earrings! I finally pulled myself together and decided to go dark. Black jeans tucked into knee high, leather boots, Navy Blue cuddle weather, knit cashmere turtleneck and a dark gray faux-fur bucket hat that looked so cute. With a knee length leather coat to ward off the Winter cold cinched at my waist, I was on the steps outside my building at 8 PM on the dot.

Greg wasn't there. I looked at my watch with a frown. 8:01... I decided to give the asshole fifteen minutes. 8:15... I was still standing on the sidewalk. I was cold and pissed! I clumped up the steps and was just opening the door to enter the lobby when I heard Greg shouting my name as he ran towards me.

I let go of the door handle. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Greg breathlessly began as soon as he was at the base of the steps. "I'm sorry I'm late. What can I do to make up for it?"

I considered the question. "Hot chocolate."

"What?"

"Hot... Chocolate... I'm cold and want hot chocolate."

"Okay. I can do that! I can get milk and chocolate..." Greg stopped. The small, family-owned corner market was already closed. He was trying to think of another market that was still open. "Umm..."

"You could do all that and I might have hot chocolate in an hour," I sighed as I came down the steps to stand next to Greg. "Or you can walk me to the Coffee Clutch and buy me one now." Which was what happened.

While waiting for our drinks to be made, Greg explained why he'd been late. He'd had a late meeting with his class counselor. He'd missed the subway from college and had had to wait for the next. With our drinks, I led Greg to my favorite table. It was far away from the cold drafts wafting in from the doors as customers entered and exited the store and it was close to the bread display. There was always a delicious yeasty smell.

As I took my coat off and draped it over a chair, I sensed Greg's sudden interest. Up to now, he'd only seen me in a thick jacket or coat. While my trim legs and ass cheeks in tight jeans had hinted that the rest of me would be 'nice' also, now my slender waist and large breasts could be seen for the first time. I pretended not to notice his not-so-furtive looks. As warmth and hot chocolate began thawing me out, Greg sighed forlornly and said, in a sad, half joking voice, "I guess my chance for a romantic night is shot to hell."

"The Magic 8 Ball says, 'Not looking good'," I said. Then I relented and told Greg that I forgave him for making me wait in the cold. Greg was pleasant company as we began talking about my temp jobs and his classes. Where we grew up, etc. I began enjoying myself as I talked to someone of my generation who knew the same TV shows and music I was interested in. Greg described the intern job he was going to start at the end of the month after Christmas and New Years, while I told my lies about being an office temp.

An hour later, after more hot chocolate and sandwiches, Greg sighed and patted his satisfied stomach. "This has been great," he said brightly but then looked at his watch and sighed ruefully. "Great, but it's not even nine-thirty. Do you have any thoughts on what we can do? The next movies won't start until eleven or later. Is there something you can think of us doing or do you want to call it an early night?"

When I said I couldn't think of anything but didn't suggest making this an early night, Greg suggested, "I have snacks and beer at my place. We could watch TV or listen to music."

Greg crossed his forearms on the table and, leaning forwards, leered, "Of course. My offer of a romantic, erotic night is still on the table."

Thinking that a romantic night with a guy who wasn't paying for my body sounded good... Then I had a thought and feeling daring, I crossed my forearms on the table and leaned towards Greg. We were looking into each other's eyes as I replied in a low voice, "That offer seems to be on the table from every guy I go out with. Tell me, what makes your offer different from all the others? The kinda man I'd be interested in going to his apartment on a first date can make this night romantic and erotic starting now."

Greg leaned towards me over the small table and kissed me. A short, but very nice kiss that I returned. When he pulled away, I said, "That was nice... Very romantic. But you promised erotic, too."

Greg looked around at the scattered customers in eyesight and cleared his throat, "Umm, I don't think I can do erotic right now."

"Use your imagination," I replied. Greg struggled in thought for several moments. When he remained silent, I took pity on the poor guy.

"Tsk-tsk-tsk... No imagination," I chided. "What would you say if I could give you an erotic night you'll never forget without going to your apartment?"

"I'd say that your apartment is closer."

I shook my head. "Not talking about my apartment."

Greg turned his head to look out a window where a light snow was now falling. Looking back at me, he seemed eager, "It's pretty cold outside but I'm game if you are."

I shook my head. "I'm talking about a place even closer. I bet you, that right here at the table, without even touching you, I can give you an erotic date you'll never forget."

"Just sitting here... No touching... An erotic date I'll never forget... What do I get when you lose?"

"You must be honest."

"I will be.

"Then if you can honestly say I haven't given you an erotic night you'll never forget, you'll win me. Me in your bed for the weekend doing anything your perverted brain can think of."

Greg leaned over the table to bring us almost nose-to-nose and challenged, "Then prove it."

"Challenge accepted," I replied.

I thought for several seconds, then began in a slow, intimate voice, "We're sitting at a table in a restaurant. I'm wearing a filmy dress that barely covers my breasts. You're thinking how pretty I am. What an incredible body I have. You're wondering if you have a chance getting me in your bed tonight. You're fantasizing about my breasts. What my breasts would feel like... Would they be as soft and large in your hands as they look..."

"It doesn't take a mind reader to know what I'm thinking about," Greg interrupted. "I'm sure every guy who's dated you thinks..."

I pressed my finger softly to Greg's lips to silence him and whispered, "Ssshhh."

After he gave a slow nod, I continued, "While you're thinking about my body, I'm wondering if you'll kiss me after our date. Will you be a good kisser? Should I dare to give tongue?"

"You should. You definitely should," Greg said quietly.

Smiling, I thought for several more seconds. My storytelling skills seemed enhanced by the lies I'd told clients over the months to excite them to come faster.

"I'm feeling warm. I shouldn't have had so much wine. Wine always makes me feel warm. While we talk about nothing, I start thinking about how long it's been since I've felt strong arms holding me tight. Crushing me against a hard, muscular body. I'm looking at your lips as you talk. Fantasizing how they'd claim mine in kisses I don't want to end.

"As I sit listening to you, it's as if I can already feel your hands molding and squeezing my breasts in your strong fingers," I whispered as my own hands surreptitiously cupped and squeezed my breasts from below. Greg stopped breathing as his eyes followed the movements of my fingers. I pulled my hands away before anyone in the shop would see, but Greg's eyes stayed on the outlines of my breasts.

"While you're thinking about my breasts, I'm thinking about your cock..." I smiled slightly as Greg's eyes widened at my brazen use of the word cock. "How large is it? Is it straight or does it have a slight curve? I'm wondering how it will feel in my mouth. All my high school girlfriends acted as if sucking cock was something dirty. Something a 'good girl' would only agree to do to keep their boyfriends happy. I acted the same way, but secretly?"

I leaned in to bring our eyes closer. "Secretly... I loooved how a hard cock felt in my mouth. Secretly... I loved the sounds my boyfriends made as I licked..." I slowly ran the tip of my tongue over my lips. "...and sucked their cocks. As I sit across from you in the restaurant, I'm wondering what sounds you'll make as I fill... My... Mouth..."

Greg shifted in his seat and I knew I had him.

"I don't think about sucking your cock for long," I continued in the sexiest voice I could. "It's been so long since I've had a man claim me for his own. It's been so long since I've had a man between my legs. I'm feeling warmer, as if I'm sitting under hot lights just thinking of you moving on top of me..." Leaning forwards carefully to not touch, I put my cheek next to Greg's cheek so I could breathe in his ear, "...moving inside of me."

I had Greg wrapped up in my words. Time to finish. "It's late in the evening. I've had too much wine. It's been far too long since I've taken a lover. The outside lights go off signaling that the restaurant will close very soon. There are very, very few customers left. You and I are the last ones in our section. We should leave but...

"I drink the last of my wine and throw caution out the window. I've never felt like this. I'm shivering from anticipation despite the warmth I feel from desire. I'm only thinking about how much I want you... How long it's been since I did anything crazy. I don't care if my date thinks I'm a slut in the morning. Tomorrow, I'll blame it on too much wine."

"'I want you now,' I whisper across the table to my date. Standing, I take your hand and pull you up from the table. You look unsure about what I intend to do as I lead you to the hallway where the bathrooms are. I glance into the Women's Bathroom and then pull you inside."

Greg let out a long breath when I paused.

"I've instigated everything that's happened up to now. But now... Now nothing is in my control as you push me against the wall. I hear the lock engage behind me as your mouth claims mine. Lips crush mine as your hands grip and squeeze my breasts roughly through my dress. Your tongue is forced into my mouth. Your strong fingers continue to maul my tits.

"I stop you when you begin to unzip my dress. We don't have much time," I whisper. "You don't answer with words. You turn and force me face-first against the wall. I feel your hands moving between us. I hear the sound of a zipper. I cry out in surprise when you suddenly push and bend me over the sink's counter. You lift the hem of my dress. In the mirror, I can see the lust in your eyes as you look at my exposed ass. I feel you pull on my panties. I moan when your fingers slide through my lips. I gasp when you push fingers inside me. In the mirror, I can see you smile as you discover how wet I am.

"I continue to watch you in the mirror as your hand guides your tip through my wetness. You put your hand over my mouth to quiet my cry when you mount me hard and fast. I'm wet, but your fast thrusts stretch and pull painfully at first... But, oh my God, it all feels so good. Then you're sliding inside me faster. My grunts and quiet pleas of 'fuckmefuckmefuckme...' become synced in time with the sound of your hips thudding against my ass.

"Our eyes meet in the mirror as your hands close tighter around my waist to pull me backwards to meet your powerful thrusts. You respond as I begin to beg you to fuck me harder. The sound of our sex increases as you slam your cock deep. My pleasure keeps increasing until you groan and I feel you coming inside me. We don't talk as your hands slide up to grip my tits, using them to pull my back against your chest. Looking at each other in the mirror, we know we can't rest for long because at any time someone might disturb us.

"I quickly pull my panties up when you pull out. Only then do I think I should have asked you to give me some paper towels first. I shrug as I pull the hem of my dress down. It won't be the first time I've walked from a room with thick cum wetting the crotch of my panties.

"I quickly squat on my heels to suck your cock. Cleaning our sex from your shaft with my mouth before you can close your zipper. When I release your cock and rise, without a word we adjust our clothes before you unlock the door. We walk back to our table and act as if nothing has happened as the waiter brings our check."

I removed my arms from the tabletop and leaned back in my seat to signal the end of my story. Greg looked stunned and let out a breathy, "Wow."

I gave Greg a wicked grin, "Now, I have a question for you. Did I use my incredible imagination to spin you that story? Or... Did I tell you something from my memory? Imagination or memory?"

"Memory," Greg answered without hesitation. I didn't reply and kept my face impassive.

"Well? Am I right?"

"You'll never know," I replied deadpan. "And that's why you'll never forget our first date. So, you promised to be honest. Did I just give you an erotic date you'll never forget?"

"Son-of-a-bitch! Why did I promise to be truthful," Greg moaned and then nodded.

"All that talking has made me thirsty," I said. "I'm thinking hot tea instead of another hot chocolate though."

"I could drink a hot tea," Greg agreed, then glanced down at his lap and sheepishly continued. "Ahh, you'll have to go get them though. I need a few minutes before I can stand up."