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“Yes, Sir,” he replies. Obediently, he moves into a lying position with his arms stretched over his head. His dick is hard, jutting upward as it leaks precum into the tip of the condom.
The entire time I’m stroking and sucking his cock, fondling his balls, and licking the tight rim of his asshole, I do it knowing that I’m making up for the fact that I can’t give my client one hundred percent of what he really wants.
And that is to please me.
This might be his first night with me, but I know clients like him. He’s a people pleaser with a raging praise kink. Which means my pleasure is just as important as his.
He’s paying me to come at the same time he’s paying me to make him come.
Judging by the way he’s moaning, writhing, and sweating on the bed as I draw him excruciatingly slowly to the brink of ecstasy, I’ve done enough to make this session worth it for him. When he finally fills the condom and shudders out his release, he’s a mess.
“You’re amazing,” he mumbles twenty minutes later as he slips on his shoes and smiles at me from the chair.
“I’m glad you’re satisfied,” I reply frankly.
He smirks to himself with a shake of his head. “You should give yourself more credit,” he adds. “I’m not just satisfied.”
Leaning against the wall, I ask, “What are you, then?”
Lifting those handsome blue eyes up to my face, he says, “Blown away.”
My eyebrows jump upward. “Blown away is good.”
“Blown away isverygood.”
We both laugh for a moment and then he stands up and takes a step closer. My smile fades as I feel him reach for me, placing a hand on my waist.
“Is there a rule against grabbing a drink after your session?” he mumbles softly.
“I’m afraid there is,” I reply without looking him in the eye.
He nods as if he understands, but it still makes me feel like shit. Every once in a while, this happens, and it’s my least favorite part of my job. When my client and I share a moment, a laugh, a smile, something that makes them feel as if I could ever be more for them, I wish I could explain…
I’ll never be more for anybody.
“Damn,” he says. “Well…thanks for blowing me away. Next time, maybe I can do the same for you.”
“See you next time then,” I reply, forcing a smile on my face as I watch him leave the room. For a while, I’m stuck to the wall, too lost in my thoughts to move. Wondering if I should chase after him. What would happen? We’d have a few laughs. We’d fuck for fun a few times. Maybe, by some miracle, I’d actually get off.
Then what? Would he introduce me to his family? Take me to his home? Make a real boyfriend out of me?
No thanks.
Sooner or later, he’d end up disappointed. And the only way to avoid disappointment is to expect nothing at all.
I only have the one client tonight. So, after our session, I spend a few hours helping out around the club, ordering more supplies for my room, and planning some of the BDSM sessions that Sage has asked me to demonstrate for our patrons.
For some reason, I keep looking at the clock. I don’t really keep strict hours at my job. I work for my clients and then pick up small tasks here and there, but I don’t really clock in or clock out.
So it’s strange to feel restless, like I’m eager to get back home. Although right now, my home is a one-bedroom apartment above a garage in a suburban neighborhood.
My first few days at Caleb’s have been interesting, to say the least. I’ve hardly seen him at all, but his wife, on the other hand, has definitely taken a keen interest in me.
They don’t call them desperate housewives for nothing.
My first night, she was knocking on my door past midnight, and it’s almost midnight now. Will she be back again?
I smile at myself as I think how angry Caleb would be to know that his wife was hanging out with me while he slept.
