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Chapter 1
Light My Fire
Inever thought I would grow up and find a job in the sex industry. This was supposed to be a temporary gig. However, the money is so good that even though I recently graduated with my master's in business, I still have not even attempted to find a job that would utilize my degree. So when Jennifer came to me and told me she was an escort, I was intrigued but not interested. Don't get me wrong, to each their own. She makes good money at it. But I couldn't see myself enjoying sex so much if someone was paying me. That's when I joked that I could get paid to watch people have sex. Little did I know what pull Jennifer had within the business already. The next day I had a phone call from Marilyn asking if I would be interested in trying out my idea.
I remember thinking no one would pay that kind of money for that. Boy, how I was wrong.
Tonight my customers must have a fetish for school girls. Because here I sit in an antique chaise lounge that I call my office space. The woodwork on this chaise has been updated and refinished with silver leaf. The seat cushions and the recamier are upholstered with gorgeous black velvet material and as soft as butter. As the customer requested, I am wearing a long, pleated, plaid skirt with a form-fitting white button-down shirt. My bra is black lace and can be seen through the material, but that was also at the request of my customers this evening. My legs are covered with white thigh-high tights, and I wear plain black Mary Jane shoes. To round out the outfit, my wig this evening is blond pigtails. I look like a modest Brittany Spears from her Oops I Did it Again days.
The clients were willing to pay the customary two hundred dollars for the first thirty minutes and the required hundred dollars for every thirty minutes after, in addition to the hundred-dollar costume fee. And these two must plan on going for a while because they have paid for my services for 4 hours. So tonight, I will earn a thousand dollars just from these two, and since these guys wanted to start early, I could have another client after the four hours are up if Marilyn ends up scheduling one.
I must admit that these two have some self-control because they have been in that bed playing for almost an hour, and there has been no full-on penetration yet. The woman is lying on her back with her head hanging off the bed. Her eyes are focused on me, and I can see the lust and desire in those dark, beautiful eyes. Her man is between her legs, using his tongue to elicit the most sinful moans from her. Once in a while, he comes up for a breath, licking his lips while staring at me. These two like being watched, and they like that I am focused one hundred percent on them.
This couple has allowed, in their contract, for me to touch myself if I so choose. Negotiations on my behalf are done through Marilyn. The couple has been informed that the likelihood of that occurring is small, but I appreciate them allowing me the choice. I have learned over time that this is a challenge for some clients. If I don't touch myself, more than likely, they will be reserving my services again in less than a month to see if they can get me hot enough that I will touch myself.
Don't get me wrong; I get wet as hell watching. I often grab my breasts or cross and uncross my legs, but I prefer to hold off on my pleasure until I am alone. Sometimes It just takes a quick trip to a private location like the bathroom once I have left the clients. Sometimes I head home and wait till I am warm and toasty under my sheets with my favorite personal massager. However, I can tell from the look in both of their eyes that we will be in this room again very soon.
The room we are in this evening is my standard room. This condo is used for services obtained from Veiled Shadows. Jennifer, Marie, and I work from this location, and we each have our dedicated rooms set how we like them. Jennifer and Marie entertain as escorts and are often used as arm candy for the elite at black-tie events or parties out on the town. They return here, though, when more has been negotiated. I am usually here every night I work unless the client requests another location and pays for the charge that goes along with that.
The woman in front of me is about to shatter. Her breaths are quicker, the muscles in her shoulders are tightening, and her moans are more like a cry that verges between pleasure and pain. Then, without warning, she leans up and grabs her partner by the head, pulling him tighter as she screams in pleasure while grinding on his face roughly. Once she found her release, she lets go of him and lays back down, head hanging off the side of the bed and licking her lips while looking at me. I take my eyes off her face and look at him. He is kneeling. His face glistens with the juices of her orgasm, and his eyes are narrowed as he looks directly at me. He reaches down and grabs himself forcefully, tugging, then he grabs her by the hips and angles her hips up to him. Using the head of his penis, he rubs her pussy several times and slides in, going deep as he can hit. She bows her back and grabs the blankets with he hands.
He is as beautiful as she is, with his tan skin, muscles, and five-o'clock shadow. His eyes never leave mine as he makes her scream in ecstasy. His lips are parted, and his snarl looks primal as he works in and out of her. Typically my clients do not watch me. Usually, I am not the focus of their attention when they are here. My clients are usually here to experience the thrill of being watched in a controlled environment. But this couple is different; their eyes never leave me. She, once in a while, will look away or close her lids in pleasure but not him. His hooded eyes remain on me. I feel like he imagines my body is the one he is ripping apart with each earth-shattering orgasm I witness her having. And I realize I want to be the one splintering to pieces at his hands.
My clients use all of their purchased time. They break occasionally but never stop touching each other, and his eyes stay on me. If it weren't for him being so damn hot, I would have probably thought him creepy. Instead, it turns me on and requires all of my restraint not to touch myself. To obtain the release I so desperately need. He can probably sense and see my arousal. My breathing is slightly faster than usual, and I am sure my pupils are dilated.
When time is up, they dress, thank me from across the room, and walk out with James. James is one of Marilyn's security details that ensures her girls are treated well. I walk over to the dresser to check my phone that I stash in the top drawer. No messages from Marilyn, so that means no more clients tonight.
I walk into the bathroom to change so I can head home for the evening. But first, I need a release, so after removing my clothes, I quickly work my swollen clit and put myself over the edge in sixty seconds or less. Then, with my eyes closed, I remembered what he looked like staring at me and how he worked the length of his cock with his large hands. Damn him. My clients usually don't haunt me like this.
Chapter 2
Should I Stay or Should I Go
As I walk into my actual apartment, my phone rings. I'm relieved to see Jennifer's name on the screen.
"Are you done for the evening?" I asked. We have done this since she first told me she was an escort. At the end of every evening, she calls or texts me to let me know she is ok.
"Yea, I am done." I figured you would be at the condo, so I went there after I was done with my client, and you were already gone for the evening." Interesting, she didn't have to take on extra duties this evening.
"No, I decided to head home after my couple was done. I want to curl up with a book and a glass of wine." And my vibrator, but Jennifer doesn't have to know about that.
"Why don't you come out with me this evening? It's only 10, we can hit the clubs, and I can have you home before dawn." I paused for a second too long because she must have sensed my hesitation. "I know you don't have anything better to do, and it would be good for you to let off some steam with some random stranger or at least by grinding on some poor pathetic frat boy on the dance floor." My girl knows me too well.
"Fine. Where do you want to go?" I could use a few drinks, and maybe I could get lucky and find that random that I could use to itch this scratch. The time I took for myself earlier let the pressure off, but the tension was still high.
"I will swing by with an Uber and pick you up. Then, we can go to Ecstasy." She had me at Ecstasy. She knows that my favorite club. The dance floor is extra dark, the music is more on the rock side, and the bartenders, bouncers, and staff make sure that the girls there are cared for and safe.
"Sounds good. I need to freshen up. Text me when your close and I will meet you outside."
Twenty minutes later, a black four-door sedan pulls up to my apartment building, and Jennifer and I are headed to Ecstasy. When we arrive at the club, we pass the line, hug Bruno, and he ushers us into the establishment.
Ecstasy is definitely on the darker side. The building was once a gothic-style church, but the congregation left years ago. The owner then scooped the building up and started working the miracle that is Ecstasy. The stained glass windows were left in place but blacked out from the inside. The hardwood floor was refinished in what appears to be a light grey finish, and the booths that are along the walls are made from pews that once were used by the parishioners. The walls and everything else is black. Random lights of blue and green cut across the floor, and where the altar once was is now the bar.
Jennifer and I make our way to the bar by skirting around the dance floor. I look forward to the eventual bump and grind, but first, I need a few drinks. The dark atmosphere that is Ecstasy calms me. It gets me into a mental state that I like. I forget about what is going on in the world outside this deconsecrated church. Even though the feeling only lasts until the consequences are felt. And those consequences can vary depending on why I choose to escape. The only time I feel this free, with no consequences, is when I am curled up with a good book.
I sit at the bar with Jennifer and watch the dance floor. Watching the crowd move with the music's beat lifts me. It's rhythmic, intoxicating, and electric. The mass of people moves as if they are a synchronized unit though most have no clue whom they are dancing with. A shot of tequila and a long island iced tea later, and I am ready to join the lemmings on the dance floor.
Jennifer grabs my hand and pulls me behind her as we make our way to the center of the excitement. Once she feels we are in a spot that she deems appropriate, she lets go and starts to move. I close my eyes and take in the lyrics and the beat of Dead Man Walking by Jelly Roll. I move my body from partner to partner. Their hands caress my body as I caress theirs, then move on to the next. My body is already tight from work, and the feeling of sex and desire with so many people nearby reminds me how much I needed that release earlier. Finally, I decided to go to the bathroom and see if I could get five minutes alone. Just the idea of making myself orgasm in this club turns me on.
