Have you ever wondered who a doctor calls when he gets sick? Or who cleans a dentist's teeth? What happens when a therapist gets the ol' gloomies?

They phone a friend, obviously.

"Hey, you working tonight?"

Claire checked over her shoulder to make sure her last visit of the day had actually shown himself out, catching a glimpse of his elbow as the door closed behind him. "Hello to you too, stranger."

"Sorry," Joe muttered. "Hi, how are you? Are you working tonight?"

Claire laughed and switched the call to her speaker, tossing her phone onto the bed. "No, I think I'm done for the day. Why, are you trying to buy me dinner again?"

It was Joe's turn to chuckle. "Maybe I am. I've got like two more calls today; can I see you after?"

"Jesus, dude," she scoffed, plopping down at the room's desk to scrub her face clean in a small mirror. "I mean, we can hang out, but you're not gonna have anything left for me. Don't tell me you actually like me or something," she teased.

"Shut up," he muttered, "can I see you or not? I've been sitting in this lady's driveway for like three minutes; if I don't go pretend to be her plumber soon she'll think I'm flaking out."

Claire laughed again. "Fine, fine! It would be nice to get some actual good dick I guess. And see your cute face, or whatever. But don't bother trying anything if you're just gonna be pushing rope on me, got it?"

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"Your place or mine, then?"

"Neither," Joe replied, waving at the impatient housewife peeking at him through her kitchen blinds. "I got us a room at the place up on Carlton, under my name."

"Big spender," Claire teased, scratching a bit of dried cum off her naked tit nonchalantly. "I didn't think plumbers made enough for that kind of place."

"You're a butt," he replied, clapping a generic ball cap on to complete his tradesman's outfit. "Be at the bar for 10:00. I want The Full Girlfriend."

"That costs extra, you know."

Joe barked a short, indignant laugh, kicking his door open before hanging up the call. "9:00pm, or I won't let you kiss me. Bye."

Claire looked away from the mirror as the call dropped with a beep, knowing she was fighting a losing battle with her sheepish urge to grin. He'd refuse to kiss her, would he? That was rich. Mostly.

"On to the next one, I guess," she sighed aloud, pondering the mess of toys and bottles of lubes and lotions strewn about the room. She knew Joe wouldn't cheap out on her; she'd suffer through the indignity of cleaning up her own mess and cabbing across town only because she knew The Grand had jacuzzies in almost every room. She could get a good, long soak in before he'd even get home to change.

The Full Girlfriend was Claire's specialty, and she was damn good at it; any of her clients who sprung for the extra expense always came back for more of the same. They never got this though; they never got the version where she wasn't faking it.

"Darling," Joe crooned as he came up behind her, a hand at her waist and lips aimed for hers.

"Ah ah," she chided, showing him a cheek. "Kisses are for guys who show up on time." She grinned as she felt him plant a smiling peck on the offered cheek anyway.

"And what about guys who aren't going to complain about the $200 room service you spent the afternoon racking up, hmm?"

Claire conceded the point, and turned into the kiss, pleasantly surprised to see him in a well-tailored three piece. She'd tugged herself into her slinkiest little black dress with the intent of showing him up, but he'd definitely matched her at least. He looked like sex on a fucking stick.

"What are we drinking?" he asked, sliding into a seat next to her at the bar, slipping a hand onto her thigh casually.

"Girly shit for me," she replied. "And whatever is going to get you out of that suit the fastest for you."

Cocktails, four. No food, obviously. Shop talk, absolutely off the menu. The tension? Syrupy.

"If your cock isn't inside me in the next five minutes, I'm going home," she threatened at half past 11:00.

Joe drained warming dregs of Macallan with a heady gulp and rose without a word. Claire took the offered hand and let him lead her out to the lobby's bank of brassy elevators.

They almost managed to stay clothed all the way to the room.

"The zipper, the fucking...just..."

"I got it, I got it," Joe replied, frantically fumbling with the impossibly small toggle.

Claire's faultless curves revealed themselves in breathless urgency as the dress was discarded, joined in moments by a tie, jacket, shirt, trousers, and briefs.

"Lingerie," Joe commented as Claire's hand shoved him against a wall. She dropped to her knees in the same smooth motion. "You look great."

"Shut up and let me suck this beautiful fucking cock," she demanded. Joe nodded in tipsy comprehension and stared at the room's curtains as his shaft disappeared down a throat that other men paid by the hour to enjoy.

"Fucking hell," he groaned, taking a fistful of her auburn hair in a veiny grip. Claire's intimate slurps and gulps took him right to heaven's very threshold as he let his generous buzz bear him on pillowy tides of satisfied bliss.

"Why is your cock so good, hmm?" she asked, pumping the thing against her cheek lovingly. "Always, every time. You should really charge for this thing, you know that?"

"Funny you should say that," he laughed, watching her bat the slobbery shaft against her cheek.

She grinned devilishly. "You better make me cum now or I'm gonna make myself do it right here on my knees like a loser."

"Well," he replied in mock seriousness, "we can't be having that now, can we?"

Claire rose and lay back at the foot of the bed; whores get fucked from behind, but real men take the women they love where they can look them in the eye. She didn't think Joe had caught feelings like that, but The Full Girlfriend included at least some missionary. With Joe, it was as much for his as it was for her.

"God, you're fucking wet," Joe grunted as he slid home into her. The strappy, ornate wings of a lacey butterfly framed her slit in a way that he had to admit was exceptionally pretty.

"Touch me," she demanded, shaking her hair out behind her luxuriantly. Women in her line of work didn't often get the chance to enjoy the hands that pawed at their bodies; she wasn't always sure what Joe got out of their hook-ups, but his hands on her flesh was definitely the big sell for Claire.

God, they were like the hot sun on a Summer day; blazing and urgent and endless in the warmth of their touch. Each squeeze and grasp were a validating kiss of approval - his cock felt heavenly as he grunted away in his drunken thrusts, but each touch's insistent blessing really assured her that the moment was right. She came freely and without feeling the need to announce herself; of anyone alive, he should know that her grunting, clenching orgasms were real.

"You just...you just look so fucking good. So...fucking...perfect," Joe grunted, big hands wrapped around her waist as he fucked her senseless. Her own half-inebriated grin back at him was enough to make him weak in the knees, especially the lazy finger toying with that lip she refused to stop biting. Her moans were electric.

"Show me," she cooed.

Joe pulled her to the bathroom and spun her to face the mirror, wrapping an arm around her and holding her fast against himself as he slid back into her from behind. "See?" he asked, "See how perfect you are. Look at your fucking body. Look at how gorgeous you are. God fucking damn it, Claire."

She made eye contact with herself in the mirror and grinned with pride, enjoying the desperate pounding thrusts as Joe buried his forehead into the nape of her neck. She did look fucking phenomenal, she had to admit. Her heavy tits clapped against her chest wildly, barely restrained by the stringy top she still barely wore.

"Take a picture of me," she huffed.

"What?" Joe asked, kissing her neck hungrily.

She twitched at the tickle of his lips. "I want a picture of you fucking me. I look fucking amazing, and I want a picture of it."

Joe cursed loudly as he pulled out of her, angry only for the wasted moments he wasn't inside of her.

"Come on," she urged, "get back to work."

Pumping and snapping, Joe captured a dozen or so stills of their raucous fucking, even as her own forgotten phone buzzed away on the counter in front of them. Claire noticed the missed calls and notifications and silently cursed each one; none of them would lead to anything half as hot as this.

"Claire," Joe blew into her ear, "Claire, I..."

She wrapped an arm up behind her to pull his head into her. "Go ahead, baby, give me. Give it all to me!"

He needed no encouragement, knowing that another round in the shower, on the couch, in the tub, and again on the bed were likely in the cards for them tonight; Joe bucked himself into Claire with rabid abandon, flooding her entirely while she uttered sweet, exclusive nothings in his ear.

The other rounds did follow, including a half round that consisted of Joe's thoroughly abused cock refusing to stiffen at last, leading to tender kisses between Claire's legs until her clit finally went numb. They snacked on leftover room service and chatted idly about anything other than work until deciding to sleep before the sun rose to greet their sin.

"Get over here," Claire said, whipping the covers back as Joe returned from scrubbing his and her mess from his chin. "Get into this bed right now."

"I don't know," he replied with a wry smile, "I don't know if cuddling is in my budget."

"It might not be in yours," she smiled sleepily, "but I think I can let you have this one on the house. Now roll over, I wanna be big spoon."