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A/N: As told from the POV of Elle, a redheaded country girl turned high-end prostitute.
~
I hadn’t noticed him at first. He was so quiet, sitting there at the back of the room, that I just sort of forgot he existed. It never occurred to me that the lanky, sunburnt, wide-eyed kid was the most important person in the room. He had a forgettable kind of face, forlorn and empty. His eyes were even worse, underscored by dark bags of exhaustion and rimmed with red like he’d been crying. I focused on the more important looking guys in the room, the ones with three-piece suits and glasses of whiskey in their hands, the type who looked and talked like they could rule the world if only their overpoweringly rich parents would allow them more access to the family money. These were the guys I could squeeze the most cash from.
It wasn’t hard working the room. I knew their type too well to let even one of them pass by without piquing their interest. These guys were into girls who were smart, but not too smart to intimidate their masculinity; outgoing, but not friendly enough to make them think them desperate; funny, but not Amy Schumer-type funny, more like quietly clever. I could be those things. I excelled at being those things. At that particular gala, I was so classy, so disarming that no one would realize I was a prostitute until I got them alone and presented my prices. By then, they’d be hooked on me, hard as a rock or wet as rain, and ready to pay any price.
Preparation is key. I’m short and always wear high heels that are just high enough to make my legs look long and graceful. I’m thin without much shape, so push-up bras and ass-hugging skirts are essential. I wear my makeup light but bold, my shoulder-length red hair curled and full. Even the way I walk is prepared. Long, lithe strides that make my hips move up and down so dramatically that it gives the illusion of a bigger booty. Got to get that jiggle just right.
There had been enough booze going around that the mass of potential johns was getting less polite and more handsy. If I woke up in the morning without a few handprints on my asscheek, I’d be surprised. It was the perfect moment to choose the john I most liked and make a move. Chances were, he’d be just buzzed enough, I’d be just flirty enough, and a night of raw fucking would be exchanged for that thing I live for.
Cash.
I picked him instantly. He was a big guy, the quarterback type. You know… Big, bronze, ballsy. He was the loudest of the group he was in, spitting out crude jokes between puffs on a cigar as thick as my wrist. In his early forties, he had thinning black hair that was greying around the temples, a subtle touch of nobility. I sauntered over to his side, studying his sharp jawline, imaging how it’d feel to plant dozens of kisses along it.
He had just finished up a particularly rude joke involving a blonde, two dogs, and a banana peel. Around him, his pals burst into uncontrollable laughter that had some of them bakırköy escort almost spitting out their drinks. I joined in, laughing just loudly enough to let him know I had found him hilarious, but not too loud to be obnoxious. Naturally, my hand fell to his forearm. Instantly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a middle-aged woman move forward, stealthy as a cat, and grab at his wrist.
“There’s someone I want you to meet, John.” She trilled lightly, eying me darkly before leading her tipsy husband away.
I had noticed the wedding ring on his finger, but most of these guys had wives. Almost none of them brought them to these shindigs. I sighed and went to get another drink.
The bar was experiencing a lull, surprisingly enough. I ordered a gin and tonic.
“I’ll have the same.” The mopey voice drew my attention to that lanky kid I had forgotten about the second I had laid eyes on him.
He looked older up close. Sadder, too. He was closer to my age, early twenties. Along his jaw, a beard was struggling to grow, as sandy and light as the loose curls on his head. He had sharp features and hands that were oddly strong looking when compared to the rest of his skinny self. It was embarrassing, but he caught me looking at him. All he did was smile in passing and go back to tapping the countertop of the bar.
“Long night?” I initiated the conversation out of habit.
“And it’s only just started.”
“I feel the same way.” And, honestly, I did. I love sex, love getting paid for it even more. But finding johns is always tiring for me.
He turned to me, giving me his full attention. Leaning on his elbow propped on the countertop, he scratched distractedly at his fledgling facial hair. “Mom thinks if she keeps sending me to these things, I’ll find a debutante to make my wife.”
That almost made me laugh, but he didn’t look like he could take someone laughing at him. “How’s that going for you?”
“Any woman here is married or a ladder climber.” He trained his eyes on me and I realized they were shockingly green. So green, so dark, so deep that I felt like I was falling into them. “Which one are you?”
I grinned. “Neither.”
“Oh? So why’re you here?”
“Well, I’m looking for someone. Not a debutante wife. Just a… bit of fun. Takes the edge off.”
His face flushed. It was cute. “O-oh?”
“Yeah…” I regarded him more closely, sent a look down south of his belt. A crease had appeared in his pants where there hadn’t been one before. I had found my john. “Are you on edge, honey?”
I moved close enough so that my breath tickled his neck. I could almost hear his heart pounding against his chest. My voice lowered to a teasing whisper. “Come to the bathroom with me. I taste better than that drink you ordered. Promise.”
Then I slipped away without a look backwards. I knew he would follow me. The bathroom was luxurious with a waiting area, floor-length mirrors that beşiktaş escort covered the walls, and a chaise lounge with floral print and cushions. Cushions were a whore’s best friend.
After a few minutes went by, I got worried. Had he decided not to come? Even if he had, did he realize I meant the ladies’ bathroom? And there were six other bathrooms in the building. What if he waiting at one of them? But when the door inched open and his sandy haired head popped into view, those green eyes melted away my worries.
“This gonna cost me?” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, still standing in the door like a deer caught in the headlights.
I gave him my softest, most affectionate smile. “Yes, but… trust me, baby, it’s worth every dime.” I grabbed his hand and led him a few steps towards me, just enough so that the door swung closed behind him. I reached around him to lock it. Any interruption would scare him off, I knew.
“You hard already?” My fingers traced the outline of his cock through his pants before gripping it just enough to tell how stiff he was. And, mmm, was he was stiff. “Good… ’cause I’m already wet.”
I guided his hand up my short dress until his fingers made contact with my thong. They quivered there for a second, unsure. Then, his eyes focusing, he nudged my thong to the side and his long digits slid up the down the slippery slit of my shaven pussy. I could see that horny look take over his face, the one that all guys got when they made up their minds that they would have me.
When he grabbed my waist and shoved me down on the chaise lounge with a grunt, I let him. I had gotten him in here, I had let him know we were going to fuck, but now I was relinquishing control. He had looked like he needed a good fucking. It wasn’t in me to disappoint.
“Suck me,” he ordered.
I smirked as I worked at his belt, then shifted his trousers and boxers downwards to pool around his ankles. I had underestimated his length, but his ten inches didn’t scare me away. I had had longer, after all.
His cock head pressed against my lips, prodding them apart. I let him slip inside my waiting mouth until he hit the back of my throat. Deepthroating was my specialty – I had gotten plenty of practice over the last year or two. I felt his hand bury itself in my hair, grip a handful, and keep my head still as he slid in and out, going deeper with every gentle thrust until he was all the way in. My bottom lip grazed his balls, he was so deep. He stayed there, cock in my throat, breathing deeply. I reached up to cup his balls, massaging them lightly, encouraging his pleasure.
Now that he knew I could take his length without gagging, his gentleness disappeared. There was a sadistic twist to his lips now. “You fucking slut…”
Ramming his dick in and out of my sucking lips, he grunted with the effort. All I had to do was sit there with my mouth open. Drool dribbled from my lips, but beylikdüzü escort there wasn’t a spare second to clean it up. He was already pulling me up by my hair until we were face-to-face. When he kissed me, it was a violent kiss, our tongues fighting for dominance. I caught his bottom lip between my teeth and tugged on it teasingly.
His hands gripped my hips so tight, I knew they’d leave a bruise or two. The thought made me even more wet and a thin stream of pussy juice slithered down between my thighs. He smirked as he ran his finger up my leg, collecting the juice. Our eyes stayed locked onto each other as he brought his finger to his thin lips and licked it clean.
“Mm, mm, mm… you taste good.”
It was only when he flipped me effortlessly onto my stomach, jerked my dress upwards so that my little ass was revealed, and pushed my thong to the side that I remembered protection. Right around this time when I was so horny, I was dripping wet and my mind was hazy with lust, forgetting protection was a given. I reached for my purse, my condom stash, but he kicked it away.
“I hate condoms.” He didn’t give me time to reply, shoving his entire length into my pussy. It was so slick with desire already that his invasion was smooth and easy, hitting my cervix and making both of us groan in pleasure.
He reached around underneath my stomach to play with my swollen clit, effectively making me forget about the condoms. Just once without a rubber wouldn’t hurt, right? I welcomed his touch, pushing out my pussy for him to get a better angle into it. My hands instinctively found and gripped his biceps, squeezing, urging him on. His pounding was so furious that the smacking sound of his hips meeting my ass with each thrust was loud enough to alert anyone walking by in the hall that someone was getting a good fucking.
His finger rubbing madly at my clit plus his animalistic pounding into my pussy was pushing me dangerously close to climax even though we’d only been at it a few minutes. My pussy tightened possessively around his cock and he moaned in response. Grabbing my hair, he tugged my head up and leaned down over me so that his mouth was near enough to my ear to give it a nibble before he whispered, “I’m going to cum inside you.”
“Yes! Yes, oh fuck, yes!!” I wasn’t giving him permission, I was just screaming out at the orgasm that swept through my body at that moment. I’m pretty sure I heard a woman gasp just outside the door before hurried footsteps signalled her retreat. Who cared? My whole body was electrified with the kind of sensual ecstasy that makes my entire being quiver and steals my ability to form coherent words. All that came out were low, thankful whimpers.
Still, he took my cries as permission. And I doubt he could’ve pulled out in time, anyway. My orgasm sent him into his own and I felt his cock twitch inside me as stream after stream of hot cum filled me. I laid there on the chaise lounge while he slipped out of me, both of us panting. He kissed me on the back of the head, a wordless “Thank you.”
I felt something light fall onto my back, heard the door open and close as he left. When I stood, the four hundred dollar bills he had tossed on me fell to the floor. I had to smile as I scooped up that life giving cash.
Man, I love my job.
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