Page 8 of Serving Him

I grinned once more. Because hey, that’s all I cared about. So long as I got a chance to sample the goods, then I didn’t care what was in her head, what was going on her brain. And in Tammy’s case? The real answer was probably that nothing going on in the second story. It’s unfortunate, but the bimbo was literally so dumb that it was just air up there, and not in a good way.

So I gestured to a passing waitress and beckoned her over.

“Listen, can we get another one of those?” I said, pointing to the discarded catalogue on the table. “A new one? Untouched?”

The woman, this time a delectable brunette, nodded sweetly.

“Certainly sir, I’ll see right to it.”

And she waltzed off, hips swaying, butt cheeks bouncing in those high heels.

“Huh,” I grunted. Seems that everyone knew about these catalogues but me. What the hell, had it gone to my email and I’d missed it? I was gonna have to get my assistants on this shit, it was clearly more important than plan documents or prospectuses, the business junk that clogs my inbox daily.

And soon the woman came back, bearing a booklet on her silver platter.

“Here you go sir,” she murmured sweetly, bending over to hand it to me. And lo and behold, but those tits swung in my face, narrowly brushing my nose, literally just centimeters from my mouth. Again, they were good, but not quite great. Tanned with deep brown nipples, the sacs swayed before me, tips hard from the cold air of the bowling alley.

But shit, I’m not a man to turn down candy, and in this case, it was already the second time tonight. The goods were still Grade A, just not Grade A+, and I could deal, at least for a moment. So I went for it. Leaning forward, in one swift movement, I caught a nipple in my mouth, sucking that hard nub between my lips, tasting our cocktail waitress. And the woman sighed ecstatically, throwing her head back, crying out with a soft sigh.

“Oh yes!” she moaned, hips twisting erotically, hands moving up and down her sides sensuously. “Yes, yes!”

But again, this woman wasn’t my type. There just wasn’t enough flesh on her frame, she was too scrawny all over, these tits too small, that bottom too flat. To really feel it, I needed at least thirty more pounds, hefty goodness, miles and miles of white flesh, and this woman simply didn’t deliver.

So I popped her nipple out of my mouth and gave it once last lick, squeezing her ass affectionately.

“Thanks baby,” I rumbled. “But that’s good,” and with that, I placed a five hundred dollar bill on that silver tray, waving her away.

The woman pouted for a moment, body still quivering, nipple shiny and glistening from my saliva. And I admit, I was tempted to go back in for more, to let it all go, but enough was enough. She just wasn’t my thing. I wanted more. I wanted big, I wanted bountiful, I wanted to fuck a woman who bounced, jounced, and jiggled everywhere, and our waitress wasn’t it, she was way too small. So with another slap on the ass, I tipped her an additional hundred and grinned, leaning back in the club chair.

“Thanks baby,” I drawled. “We’re good.”

And with another pout that instantly transformed into a smile, the woman nodded once again.

“Certainly sir, please let me know if I can get you anything else.” And with that, she walked off, hips swaying, still beckoning with her backside.

I leaned back into the chair, slouching, looking around now. Despite the public display, not one person was looking because that’s how it goes in the Billionaires Club. The women we source are here for our pleasure, they’ve signed on knowing exactly what their role is, and frankly, a couple of my brothers were getting it on with different girls, right here, right now. I could see William in the corner, a girl writhing and moaning in his lap, and Jake over by the door, lightly teasing his fingers between a stunning brunette’s legs. With a lascivious smile, he reached for a straw and I had a feeling where that was gonna go. Into her somewhere, it was just a question of which hole.

So yeah, we’re a fucked up group. We use women, we pay them for their time, sure, but essentially, we’re using female bodies, taking them for our pleasure and then sending them packing. It’s the biggest benefit of the Club, from my perspective. The ability to fuck a woman and then show her the door, no strings attached? No tearful goodbyes, no gifts of jewelry or cash to make the transition a little easier? Fuck yeah, the service was worth its weight in gold.

So with a satisfied grin, I turned back to Robert.

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