I love the movies. I’ve rarely missed a new release since I was old enough to go to the movies alone and buy my own ticket. Over the years, there’s been winners and losers. However, most were just mediocre. It didn’t make much difference to me. I just loved the cinema, sitting in the dark, nibbling on the required popcorn and letting my imagination wander into the movie until I became a part of the script.
Starr and I worked together as accounting clerks in a downtown wealth management firm, since neither of us was able to pass the Uniform Certified Public Accounting exam after graduating from school.
We laughed a lot about our names. We agreed that we could have been headliners at a Portland strip club. “Starr and Tiffany: see all of them and see them often.” We didn’t know why our mothers chose names with such obvious connotations but we believed we’d both be making more money in Portland than where we were.
Starr and I spent considerable time together, frequently having lunch together and an occasional outing on the weekends. Thursday night, however, was a permanent date for us. Every Thursday night we went to the movies. We went to the same theater and sat in the same seats, a ritual we followed religiously even when it meant we saw the same move two weeks in a row.
That worked terrifically for over three years until Starr accepted a new position in Oregon. She was very circumspect about the details of her new job. That, plus the fact that she has an incredible body, led me, and others, to speculate about how close to Portland was her job in Oregon.
Starr left on a Friday. The following Thursday, I went to the movies alone. I was lonely and the movie was barely mediocre. If it hadn’t been for the gentleman sitting next to me, it would have been a complete bust even though he ignored my presence.
The following Thursday, the movie was an improvement and I sat next to the same gentleman as the previous week, an incredible coincidence that made the evening a success for me.
Another Thursday and another movie. Only this time, deciding to go wasn’t easy. The movie was another of those space monster movies with lots of special effects and computer generated imagery with lots of blood, guts and extensive property destruction. I’m a sucker for every visual trap film makers use to scare movie goers. In other words, it was a piss my pants horror movie.
Going to a pisser movie with Starr eased my tenseness. She’d hold my hand and absorb some of my fear. Enough so that I could keep my pants dry. However, not going would spoil my perfect attendance record. So, like every other Thursday, I went to the movies. Same seat. Same gentleman sitting next to me.
Within ten minutes, the movie had every nerve in my body on alert. I gripped both of the seat arm rests and held on as if my world was going to end. The first sudden transition caused the bucket of popcorn in my lap to leap a foot in the air and fill the air with buttery snack.
Then a miracle happened. The gentleman next to me put his hand on top of mine on the arm rest. He never said a word. He just rested his hand on mine. The touch alone was enough to drain a significant amount of tension from me. It is not an exaggeration to say that his simple act of kindness made it possible for me to sit through the rest of the movie.
He kept his hand on mine until the movie ended. No attempt to hold my hand or touch me further. Just a casual resting of his hand on mine. When the move ended, he removed his hand and left the theater, just like every other Thursday, without a word or nod of acknowledgement.
I walked home, calmer than I could have expected. I held my hand across my body as if it was some sort of shrine. I went to bed that night dreaming of the man I knew only by his shadowy profile sitting in the seat next to mine.
The movie the next Thursday was a romantic comedy starring some of my favorite actors. I was looking forward to a light and pleasant evening eating popcorn at the movies. I hadn’t given much thought about the gentleman in the seat next to me.
However, he was there, sitting in his usual seat almost as if he was waiting for me. I settled in my seat, watched the movie and munched my popcorn. At one point, I put my arm on the armrest between our seats. Instantly, his hand was on top of mine. It wasn’t a scary movie and I didn’t understand why he did it, unless he wanted it to be there. More than just on top of my hand. His fingers curled under my hand and actually held my hand. I did nothing to discourage him. I left my hand on the arm rest and let him hold and caress my hand.
When the movie ended, he let go of my hand and left like every other week. I walked home floating on air. I have no idea why. The man who held my hand for ninety minutes had no name and no presence other than a shadow in the seat next to me but his simple act of kindness somehow lifted my mood.
I thought about the movie the next Thursday for an entire week. Actually, I thought about the man in the seat next to me. When Thursday night arrived, I hadn’t a clue about the movie I was about to watch. It turned out to be a film-noir mystery drama that required significant attention to grasp the plot. When the movie ended, I didn’t have a clue about the plot or the actors.
About ten minutes into the movie, the stranger next to me was holding my hand on the arm rest. For reasons I still can’t explain, I removed my hand from the arm rest, dislodging his hand in the process and put the arm rest up and moved closer to him. I put my hand in my lap and his hand fell softly on my thigh.
I almost wet my pants although for a different reason. I knew I had invited further contact when I put the arm rest up, but his hand on my thigh still had an emotional response to his touch. We watched the rest of the movie like that, at least I think he did. Occasionally, he would squeeze my thigh or move his hand in a short stroke on my thigh on top of my dress. Every squeeze, every stroke invoked an electrical charge up my leg and around my midsection. When the movie ended, I had my hand on top of his and was moving it in longer strokes on my leg. Then we left the theater separately just like every other Thursday evening.
Another week, another Thursday, another movie. I had been distracted all week and dreamed about the possibilities each night. This time, I didn’t give a crap what the movie was. I was going to the movies to sit next to the mysterious gentleman who was willing to stroke my thigh last week.
I went to the theater, bought my ticket and my popcorn and went inside. My gentleman was already in his seat, the arm rest was already up and he seemed to be seated off center in the direction of my seat. I sat off center in the direction of his seat with our hips almost touching.
I nibbled at my popcorn until the lights dimmed and the movie started. His hand was quickly on my thigh, over my skirt, repeating the motions I had encouraged the previous week. In response, I put my hand on his thigh over his pants. When he took a short stroke on my thigh, I took a short stroke on his thigh. When he squeezed my thigh, I squeezed his thigh. When he took a longer stroke on my thigh, I took a longer stroke on his thigh.
When my legs separated slightly, so did his. When his hand rubbed my inner thigh, I rubbed his inner thigh. And then, the movie was over and we went our separate ways, until next Thursday.
The more I looked forward to Thursday, the further away it got. When it finally came, I rushed home after work, took a shower, put on a short, above the knee skirt that rode higher when I sat down, an Oxford shirt and my best bra and underwear. I walked purposefully to the theater, bought a ticket and popcorn again and headed for my seat. I was the first to arrive. The previews hadn’t even started. I put up the arm rest and sat close to the still empty seat next to me. I told myself repeatedly, not to be over anxious without success.
The lights dimmed for the previews and the gentleman sat next to me. Almost before he was settled, I put my hand on his thigh. What the hell was I thinking? The third preview was just starting. The start of the movie, whatever it was, was at least twenty minutes away.
The gentleman knew what I was thinking. He put his hand on my thigh. Before the last preview, we were mutually stroking and squeezing each other’s thighs. The silently agreed upon, collaborative stroking of our inner thighs was accomplished within the first fifteen minutes of the movie.
In a daring move, uncharacteristic of me, I pulled the fabric of my skirt slowly from beneath his hand, leaving his fingers stroking and squeezing my thigh on my bare skin. Over the next agonizing minutes, his strokes reached the gusset of my panties and the side of his pinky finger rubbed lightly against the damp fabric. I closed my eyes and floated into the feeling of his knowing that I was accepting of his touch and wet to prove it.
My hand drifted to the space between his legs. He rotated slightly in his seat to improve my ability to digitally explore what I found there. I wasn’t surprised but I was emboldened. Before the movie was over, I had wrapped my hand around his hardness as best I could through his trousers.
Walking home from the movies was a challenge. I wanted to dance in the moonlight but I was almost too dizzy to walk straight. At home, I stripped and slid in between the sheets naked for the first time since I was a child. Everything I had worn was in the clothes hamper except my panties. My panties were hanging, stretched out on a hanger on the frame of the doorway to my bathroom. As I fell pleasantly asleep, I considered having them framed.
Saturday I went shopping. I bought a very short flared skirt. Not quite as short as a tennis skirt but not much longer. I added a matching low cut, flowing blouse that I could leave untucked. Just planning what to wear the next Thursday made me wet.
I was wet almost every day until Thursday. After work, I rushed home again, showered and dressed in my new, almost not there, skirt and blouse. I looked at myself in the mirror and liked what I saw. I wondered what my mysterious stranger would like if he could see me. In a rash moment, uncharacteristic of me, I reached under my skirt and removed my panties. I was on a mission of discovery and I wanted my nameless movie partner to have something to find. Finally, if not my panties, why not my bra. I removed my bra and put it on the bed next to my panties. I looked into the mirror and liked what I saw even more.
Walking to the theater was another new experience. The weather had cooled and there was a slight breeze. The cool air, blew gently up my skirt, encountered my naked pussy and produced several thrilling moments that caused me to stop twice to control my emotions. I finally arrived at the theater, bought my ticket and entered the building, taking short steps so as not to flare my skirt. Popcorn in hand, I walked carefully to my usual seat.
My paramour, (Is it safe to call him that even if I didn’t know his name or would know him if I passed him on the street during the day?) was already in his seat. The armrest was up and his hand lying where my thigh would be soon. I moved down the row, he lifted his hand, I sat down and his hand fell on my bare thigh.
“Ahhh,” he murmured. The first sound I’d ever heard from him.
If that was his reaction to discovering my already naked thigh, I could hardly wait for his reaction when he ventured further on his mission of discovery.
And he was on a mission. Before the movie was ten minutes old, the side of his pinky had discovered the absence of panties and was nestled between my plump labia. I closed my eyes and settled in to the feeling of his finger slowly stroking the inner lips of my vagina.
He rotated his hand attempting to palm my mons with his entire hand. I slid down in my seat, pushing my hips out to ease his effort and spread my legs further apart. His middle finger stroked between my inner labia while his fingers on either side stroked along the inner edge of my major labia.
His finger curled and entered me a short distance. I bit my lip, slid forward further and encouraged him. Fortunately, I sensed my orgasm building and was able to contain my reaction by biting the wrist of my right hand and prevented the sound that would have attracted the attention of everyone else in the audience.
I put a hand on top of his to restrict further movement while I recovered, My other hand, which had been squeezing his erection through his pants, moved up and attempted to open his fly. He anticipated my plan and undid his belt and button and held the top of his pants while I unzipped his fly. Before I could reposition my hand, he had pushed down his underwear and his exposed erection bounced against the back of my hand.
He slid down slightly and I corralled his erection and squeezed it gently. I began to stroke the outside of his erection with my fingers and he resumed stroking the inside of my vagina with his fingers.
Too soon, the movie was over and we scrambled to straighten our clothing before we left, separately as usual.
I don’t remember the walk home. I do remember that I walked slowly with my knees together to prevent a potentially embarrassing accident. Home, I crawled into bed naked again. My tits were begging for attention. I had anticipated increased activity that included my tits. The activity with my pussy had exceeded my expectations with the deficit of attention to my tits. I fell asleep, palming my tits and resolving to rectify the deficiency the next Thursday.
Dressing for the movies the next Thursday wasn’t a problem. There wasn’t much less that I could wear without going naked. I wore the same skirt and blouse without the same panties and bra. I didn’t rush, walking to the theater slowly and enjoying the play of the breeze on my pussy under my short skirt.
I arrived at my row in the theater just as the lights were dimming after the previews for the start of the movie. My partner was already in his seat. However, he was sitting unnaturally upright with his hands in his lap. I sat next to him and put a hand on his thigh. His thigh was exposed and, when he removed his hands from his lap, his penis and testicles were exposed as well.
My hand circled his penis immediately and his hand cupped my pussy at the same time. I moved my hand up and down his penis which quickly became an erection. I used my thumb to rub the tip of his erection and small amounts of slippery viscous fluid escaped that I used to lubricate his erection.
I was seeping copious amounts of similarly slippery viscous fluids that my friend used to lubricate his fingers as they entered me. I took his free hand and pressed it to my chest over my blouse. In time, his hand found its way under my blouse and began to squeeze my tits and exercise my rapidly hardening nipple.
We spent the majority of the movie like that. I had several small orgasms and one fairly large one. My companion had a single, very explosive orgasm that covered my hand, his abdomen and his trousers with semen.
During the movie ending credits, we both left the theater before the house lights came up and exposed the post sexual state of our clothing.
Walking home, I was on cloud nine. I couldn’t imagine a better evening, unless it involved actual sexual intercourse. I lay awake that night wondering what else I could experience with the anonymous seat mate. There was only one thing I could imagine.
The next Thursday we were at it again. Only this time, before he could get his hands in position with me, I bent over and took his cock in my mouth. His immediate response was shock but he quickly calmed down, slid down in his seat, closed his eyes and put his head back. I was in an unusual position to watch a movie. I was bent over below the level of the seat backs and I was unsure how many other movie patrons could see what I was doing.
And I was doing plenty. Every time I felt my willing recipient was nearing an orgasm, I slowed and reduced the intensity of what I was doing until I was certain he was able to continue without detonating. Unfortunately, he was making all sorts of animalistic sounds, loud enough to draw attention to what was happening. I refused to care about attracting attention. In reality, the thought of being watched only intensified my desire to complete what I had started.
Being bent over as I was, interfered with his ability to stroke my pussy but my tits were available. He slid his hand under my blouse from the top and alternately hefted one tit, tweaked my nipple and then switched to my other tit. The feeling was exquisite almost interfering with my oral intentions.
And my intentions were nothing short of driving him to a total release in my mouth but not until I wanted him to. Throughout the movie, I was aware that my position and his less than subtle moans were drawing the attention of other sitting around us. When I peeked, several people were leaning over the backs of their seats watching us. If being watched was intended to interrupt us, it failed. Being watched actually excited me. Somehow, being the center of attention during sex drove me to even greater lengths.
As the movie drew to a close, so did my efforts with my anonymous partner. He came strongly in my mouth with a moan that doubled the number of movie patrons watching us. I swallowed and licked my lips several times before I sat up, straightened my blouse and left the theater with him struggling to contain the mess I left and get himself back in his pants.
Walking home, I was proud of myself. My mood was heightened by the knowledge that I had been watched while pleasuring my neighbor. I didn’t understand why I felt elated but I knew being watched added immeasurably to my experience.
All week I planned my activity for the next Thursday. There was only one thing I had to do while being watched that would maximize both of our experiences. I was going to fuck him. Right there in his seat in the theater. I would suck his cock until it was erect, climb on top of him, straddling him in his seat and fuck him.
I was a mass of anxiety and determination as I walked to the theater on Thursday. As I neared the ticket booth, a man who had been lingering on the sidewalk approached me.
“Excuse me,” he said as I neared him.
I stopped. “Do I know you?” I asked.
“Are you row K, seat 9?” the man asked.
I thought for a second. “Seat 7?” I asked.
“I am,” he admitted. “Could we talk for a second before we go inside?” he asked.
He looked to be about ten years older than I was, with the body of an athlete and the smile of a happy person. “I’m listening,” I said.
He stuck out his hand. “Keith,” he said.
I took his hand. “Hi Keith,” I said. “Ann.” My real name didn’t seem appropriate.
“Ann,” he said, “I can’t tell you how much I’ve enjoyed sitting next to you in the theater these last three months.”
I didn’t think agreeing with him would be going too far. “It has been fun, hasn’t it?” I said.
“I think there’s only one thing we haven’t managed while sitting next to each other,” Keith said.
I admired his forthright statement and his accurate appraisal of where we were. “I’ve had the same thought,” I said.
“I was wondering,” Keith said, “if you might consider a different venue for this evening?”
His suggestion struck me as thoughtful and appropriate. Fucking him in the theater seat wasn’t optimal. “You have a venue in mind?” I asked.
“There’s a motel about two blocks up the avenue. We could walk there in a few minutes,” Keith offered.
I gave him a more analytical appraisal. A real bed with his naked body between the spread legs of my naked body seemed perfect. “Lead the way,” I agreed.
We walked side by side without holding hands for the ten minute walk to the motel. I waited in the lobby while he arranged for a room. He flashed me the blue plastic room key and we headed for the elevator and the third floor. Room 312 was halfway down the dimly lit hallway on the right. Keith opened the door and held it for me to enter.
The room was larger than the usual motel room. There was a sofa, chair, small desk with another chair and a king sized bed that dominated the room. A bathroom was tucked into a corner next to the door.
Keith let the door close, turned on the lights and walked to the end of the room to the window. He started to close the drapes, I assumed for privacy.
“Leave then open,” I said. We were on the third floor so someone seeing us was a low probability although I secretly hoped someone would manage it.
Keith returned to stand in front of me at the side of the bed. We both knew exactly why we were here and this awkward moment was unexpected. We knew each other inside and out from our escapades in the theater. What were we waiting for? Someone had to make the first move. I grew impatient first. I went to the bathroom, turned on the light and closed the door most of the way so some light leaked into the bedroom. I then turned off the room lights and returned to stand in front of Keith.
I took the hem of my blouse and pulled it off over my head. I held my blouse in one hand and stood proudly in front of him with my breasts exposed. He gazed at my breasts for a moment and then he stepped to the wall and turned on the lights again before he returned to stand in front of me.
His visual examination of me was disturbing and thrilling at the same time. I wondered what he was thinking. Was he admiring my body for the thrill it gave him or was he rating me by some standard that only he knew. I hoped my breasts were a seven or an eight in his estimation.
I stood, unflinching as he digested my appearance. I wasn’t going any further. It was his turn and I was willing to wait until he figured it out. It didn’t take him long. Smiling, he unbuttoned his shirt, removed it and tossed it behind him. I tossed my blouse behind me.
His body attracted my attention just as my breasts had attracted his attention. He had a broad chest with a moderate amount of hair the same color as the hair on his head and his shoulders and biceps revealed signs of a previous athletic experience. His abdomen was taught, something between a six-pack and a belly. Overall, more than acceptable. I began to get wet looking at him.
It was my turn. By my calculation, I was behind. I had my short skirt without panties. He was wearing his trousers and his underwear unless he too had opted to dress commando. I really wanted him to make the next move. I kicked off my sandals and waited.
A quiet laugh escaped his lips. He kicked off his shoes and danced alternately on each leg while he pulled off his socks.
My turn again. I’m still potentially down one piece of clothing. I waited to see what Keith would do. Once again, his patience won. “What the hell,” I thought. I unbuttoned my skirt, pulled the zipper down and let it fall to my feet. I stepped out of it with one foot and kicked it behind me with the other.
I stood even more proudly in front of him totally naked. I was confident in my appearance. My pubic hair was a perfect triangle, neatly trimmed on the top and sides and combed to a uniform length with a number eight comb on my electric clipper.
But I was still naked, in bright light, in front of a man I only knew in the dark of the theater. I was outwardly calm but shaking inside as he looked at me.
When he didn’t move, I stepped closer to him, reached out and began to unbuckle his belt. He stood stoically while I worked. His belt loosened and I unbuttoned his trousers and pulled the zipper of his fly down. A tug on the sides of his trousers slipped them over his hips and they fell to the floor around his ankles.
He wasn’t wearing underwear and his penis wasn’t soft. It was at least a seven, maybe an eight, hopefully inspired by his visual examination of my body. Without hesitation, I knelt in front of him and took his erection in my hand. I looked up at him. He was watching me with an intensity I hadn’t noticed in the dim light of the theater. I put my mouth over the head of his erection and closed my eyes.
His cock felt incredible in my mouth. None of the contortionist positions required in the theater. Just me, on my knees, in front of an erection that wanted my mouth around it as much as my mouth wanted to be around it. I could feel it getting longer and stiffer as I worked on it in my mouth, the silky smoothness of the skin sliding on the hard core beneath. I pushed it to the back of my mouth until it lodged in my throat. I swallowed, causing my throat muscles to squeeze the head of his erection and then moved back so I could breathe.
I felt his pulse quicken and a shiver roll up and down his body. His legs weakened and I helped him move until he could sit on the edge of the bed. Keith leaned back on his elbows and spread his legs so I could continue sucking on his erection without interruption.
I could suck his cock for hours but that wasn’t why I was here. I wanted two things we hadn’t had in the theater. I wanted him to suck on my clitoris and I wanted to fuck him. However, having him cum in my mouth had some appeal. It would postpone fucking him but allow a natural transition to option one.
I doubled my efforts and Keith responded. He came forcefully in my mouth. His legs stiffened and his hips lifted off the bed as he convulsed and surged several cubic centimeters of hot semen into my welcoming mouth.
I swallowed quickly, licked my lips and, before Keith could recover, I moved my body on top of his and slid up his torso until my leaking labia were centered over his mouth. I wiggled my vagina on his mouth until I felt his tongue enter me. I relaxed into the penetration of his tongue. His arms surrounded my thighs and he rolled us over until I was on my back with my legs spread high over my head and his head buried in between my thighs.
He was very good. Either he had lots of practice or a good teacher. He was firm and deliberate like a man who knows exactly what a woman wants and yet, he was delicate, like a woman. I held on as long as I could and, when I succumbed, I fell into an orgasmic abyss, screaming as my body disintegrated into total energy.
I recovered slowly. When awareness returned, Keith was holding me in his arms and gently massaging my breasts. Barely conscious, I reached for his erection. I found him relaxed but he quickly recovered into an erection any man would be proud of and any woman would be proud to have.
“Fuck me, please,” I managed to say.
“So soon?” he asked.
“Yes, please,” I begged. “While I’m still able to ask.”
Keith lay me down in the center of the bed and spread my hair on a pillow. “Like an angel,” he said.
I spread my legs and bent my knees with my heels on the bed. Keith kissed my nipples, my navel and barely touched my clitoris with his tongue. He moved between my legs and I could feel the tip of his erection brushing against my labia.
I grabbed another pillow and tossed it at him. “Put this under my ass,” I ordered.
Keith entered me with my pussy at the perfect angle to fully appreciate the beauty and depth of his invasion. He moved into me slowly, the friction of his entry perfectly stimulating the front surface of my vagina. I exhaled sharply as he reached his limit. I held him in place with my hands on his hips for several moments and then let him go and shifted my hips tell him it was time to move.
We began a rhythmic dance. Each time he slid into me, I moved inexorably closer to what was to be a life assuring orgasm. Each time he withdrew, I moved a step back. After what felt like hundreds of strokes, I was nearing the edge of the orgasmic chasm I wanted so badly and afraid to reach.
Without warning, Keith leaned into me, screamed and came inside me, the heat of his boiling semen flooding my body and warming my tits. I went over the edge with him, an orgasm so powerful that I blacked out.
I woke hours later. The room was dark and I was alone in the bed. The clock on the bedside table told me it was just after three thirty in the morning. The bathroom light was on and the door closed. I assumed that Keith was in the bathroom. I waited for him to come back to bed and fell asleep again.
When I woke again, sunlight was streaming through the window. The clock read seven fifteen. I got out of bed and headed to the bathroom to pee. Back in the bedroom, the bed was empty and Keith’s clothing was gone. I assumed he managed to leave in time to get to work, wherever that was.
I took a shower, found my phone, sat on the edge of the bed and called in sick for the day. I found my meager clothing and left the motel as unobtrusively as possible.
Back home, I stripped and climbed into my own bed to sleep some more. I woke mid afternoon and replayed the events of last night as much as I could remember them. Over the weekend, next Thursday loomed large in my plans. I realized that there would never be another first time but I wanted as much of it as I could get.
The week dragged. On Thursday, I left work early, went home, showered and dressed conservatively. This time the undressing would be an important part of the ritual leading to the orgasms I so wanted and so feared. I went to the theater early and waited for Keith. I waited until the movie started. I thought I might have missed him and bought a ticket. I skipped the popcorn and entered the theater. From the aisle, I could see that row K, seat 9 was empty and so was seat 7. I swallowed hard and left the theater hoping nothing had happened to Keith that prevented him from coming to the theater tonight.
I lay in bed, touching myself where I hoped that Keith would have been touching me. I thought about missing Keith at the theater and concluded that he hadn’t had a problem. He had never planned to go to the theater that night, or any other night. He had stood me up. That son of a bitch had fucked me and, having gotten what he wanted, he bailed out.
I was furious. If I ever saw him again I would tear off his balls and shove them into his mouth next to his talented and lying tongue. I was hopeless at work on Friday. My supervisor sent me home to get my act together.
Friday night I fell asleep thinking of revenge. By Saturday night my anger had subsided. He wasn’t worthy of my revenge. Sunday morning I was willing to pardon him if not forgive him. Hadn’t he given me the most incredible night of my life? So what if he stood me up. We didn’t have a real date. I really had no idea who he was or how to locate him. His name was probably not Keith anyway. After all, I lied to him from the beginning why wouldn’t he lie to me? He thought my name was Ann.
His intentions were no worse than mine. Hadn’t I pursued him just to get him to fuck me? It seemed we both got what we wanted. It was time to lick my wounds and move on.
If only I could find someone to lick my pussy.
Monday I was a work genius. Everyone, including my supervisor noticed my renewed energy. I even worked overtime Thursday, skipping the movies.
The following Thursday I went to the movies again. I dressed in my above the knee skirt and a button down shirt with bra and panties. I bought my ticket and my popcorn. In the theater, I stood at the top of the aisle and looked at the other patrons. I avoided looking at row K. Seats 7 and 9 were empty anyway. I noticed a thirty something gentleman sitting midway into row P. I moved in and sat next to him.
He barely noticed my presence. I waited until the previews were over and the lights dimmed before I put my hand on his thigh. I acted as if I didn’t notice his stare as he wondered what was going on. I just squeezed his thigh and slid my hand between his legs. His body stiffened as if he was opposed to what I was doing but his legs separated slightly.
I moved my hand up on his thigh until I could feel his cock through his pants. It was developing nicely. I managed to shift it around in his pants to increase his comfort as it increased in size.
He put a hand on my thigh. I gently, but decisively removed his hand.
I stroked his erection, sure he understood my intention.
He put his hand on my thigh again. Again, I removed it. For his third attempt, he reached for my tits.
I let his hand linger on my tit for a couple of minutes and removed it when he started to squeeze.
His first words were unexpected and a little shocking.
“How much?” he asked.
My response was even more shocking. “One hundred,” I said.
“Here?” he wanted to know.
“There’s a motel two blocks up the avenue,” I explained.
“Meet you outside?” he asked.
I patted his erection and left the theater.
I waited outside for him to join me. He took longer than I expected. “What the fuck was I doing?” I asked myself. “Did I just agree to sell my pussy for a hundred dollars? And what was taking him so long? Had he changed his mind or lost his courage? I wish he’d hurry before I lost mine.”
He exited the theater held and out his hand. “John,” he said.
“Appropriate,” I thought. I shook his hand with my fingertips. “Ann,” I said.
We walked together to the motel. I waited while he went into the office and paid for a room. He showed me the plastic key fob with the number 312 on it. I laughed at the coincidence and followed him to the room.
He unlocked the door and held it open for me. I stood outside and waited. It took him a minute to figure out the delay. He took out his wallet and counted out five twenties and handed them to me.
“Okay?” he asked.
“Fine,” I said, tucked the twenties into my purse and walked into the room.
I wasted no time in helping him remove his clothing. He didn’t resist but I could see in his eyes that he would prefer to have me remove my clothing. I knelt in front of him and took his penis into my mouth. I assumed that would be the first thing he wanted. Somehow, somewhere, probably from the pornographic videos I had watched over the years, I thought that was the normal progression of things.
For John, that wasn’t what he wanted. I forgot for a moment that since he was paying me that we were here not to do what I wanted but what he wanted. What he wanted was for me to take off my clothing.
He stepped back and used his hands on my arms to stand me up in front of him. “Take off your clothes, please,” he suggested.
He sat on the bed while I disrobed. It felt strange removing my clothing in front of an audience of one where taking off my clothing was the primary objective not just another step in a process leading to sex. If John had a specific agenda in mind, I hadn’t a clue what it might be or where it might lead. Not knowing caused me some concern but I stiffened my resolve and motored on.
I began to remove my shirt. “Slowly,” ordered John.
He sat on the edge of the bed, stroking his cock as I undressed, slowly, and he watched intently. When I exposed my breasts, he inhaled sharply and increased the pace of his stroking on his hardening cock. I kicked off my sandals. He put up his idle hand to stop me from going further and beckoned me to move closer to him. Without losing a beat, he put his arm around my waist, pulled me closer and pushed his face into my right breast.
He held my breast and slid his face all over its surface. His tongue licked my skin and my nipple got special attention until he sucked it into his mouth. Suddenly, he erupted, semen shooting over my abdomen and skirt. He pumped his erection until he had no more bullets and fell back on the bed with his eyes closed and his hand still clutching his now deflating penis.
I didn’t know what to do next. Should I clean up, get dressed and leave? Probably not. He was paying me and I felt obliged to stay with him until we fucked or he told me to leave. I took off my skirt and panties, cleaned myself and my skirt as best I could in the bathroom and lay alongside him on the bed.
I was playing idly with his cock when he opened his eyes. “Hi,” I said.
“You’re still here?” he asked.
“Obviously,” I responded.
“I thought you might leave,” he said.
“Why would I leave?” I asked.
“The others usually do,” he commented.
I thought about that for a second. Apparently this wasn’t the first time he had paid for sex. “I’m not the others,” I said.
“You’re not,” he said while ogling my tits.
“Do you want to fuck or should I leave?” I asked.
“Can I suck your tits before we fuck?” John asked.
“Of course,” I said. I loved tit play as much as anything else and maybe I could get him to suck my clitoris as well. I lay on my back and invited him to explore my tits.
John was an experienced tit sucker. He managed to bring me to the verge of an orgasm by just holding, kissing and sucking on my nipples. He resisted moving further down my body. “You’ve done this before,” I stated.
“Yours are number one hundred and thirty seven,” he informed me.
An impressive number. I wondered where in that plethora of tits John rated mine. I wasn’t going to ask.
When he had exhausted his penchant for tits, he had another erection. I pushed him on his back and straddled him. He felt good inside me but there wasn’t much energy involved. I rolled us over and he began to stroke inside me, supporting himself on his arms. He came for the second time inside me without finishing what he had started when sucking my tits.
Later, as he lay on the bed watching me get dressed, he said, “I owe you more money.”
“No,” I said. “We’re all square.”
“I got more than I paid for,” he insisted. He got off the bed, picked up his pants, found his wallet and took out five more twenty dollar bills. He pressed them into my hand.
“I don’t want more money,” I insisted.
“Take it, please,” he said.
I took the money, said, “Thank you,” kissed him quickly on his cheek and walked home.
On the walk home, I marveled at having an extra two hundred dollars in my purse. I had gone to the movies looking for sex and found… what? Sex? Not really. True, John and I had sex but it wasn’t anything to write home about. I didn’t even have a small orgasm.
What was it then? A new hobby? A profession? Was it really that easy? Two hundred to let some guy maul my breasts for an hour and a quick fuck afterwards? Everything I’d ever heard about prostitution was that it wasn’t that easy. Meeting strange men in strange environments, some with aggressive, or even violent, tendencies wasn’t the ideal profession.
But the money seemed good. Maybe the payoff was worth the risk.
Other than unpredictable clients, what were the risks? Injury? Disease? Pregnancy? Reputation?
All seemed manageable. If I carefully chose my clients and took reasonable precautions, like medical checkups and birth control, it could be exciting and profitable.
I needed time to think. I also needed more experience. Next Thursday, I was going to the movies again.
Work all week was mundane and boring. My attitude buoyed as Thursday progressed. After work, I took a leisurely shower, dressed modestly and headed for the theater.
Inside, I spotted a well constructed man sitting alone on the side of the theater. Casually, I sat next to him. He looked at me, probably wondering why, with all the empty seats in the theater, I sat next to him. Minutes later, I gave him his first clue. I put my hand on his thigh.
He looked at me. I smiled. He smiled. I squeezed his thigh. He put his hand on my thigh.
I moved my hand toward his family jewelry box. He tried to slide his hand between my legs but my skirt impeded his progress. I put my hand on his crotch, where I noticed his burgeoning erection, to encourage him. His hand slid down to the hem of my skirt and settled on my skin below the hem and above my knee.
I put a hand on his hand and squeezed my legs together. He looked at me, confused at the mixed signals.
“Two hundred,” I said.
He jerked his hand away and slapped my hand from his crotch. “Get away from me, you skank, before I call the manager,” he snarled.
I stood up. I smiled. “Sorry to have to leave you without relief,” I said and walked away.
Back in the lobby, I considered what had just happened. I had no clue that he would react so violently. He seemed to be fine with the direction I was leading him until I mentioned money. Maybe he was fine with a little on the side but truly offended of the thought of paying for it. Or, maybe I just hadn’t warmed him up enough to overcome his resistance to the price. Maybe a blow job before mentioning money would have changed the outcome. I’d never know.
I moved through the lobby to the aisle on the other side of the theater. A gentleman in a suit was sitting alone about halfway down the aisle. As I walked toward him, I realized he was older than I first thought, maybe in his early fifties. He looked clean cut, self assured and successful. I wondered if he’d have a problem when the subject of price arose.
I sat next to him. He glanced in my direction and then refocused on the movie. I wiggled in my seat to get comfortable and remind him that he was no longer alone. I put up the arm rest between us. He looked at me. His look lingered. I smiled. He smiled and returned his attention to the screen.
I looked at the screen and put my hand on his thigh. Peripherally, I saw him look at me again. I focused on the movie. Eventually, he looked away but he made no move to remove my hand from his thigh. I squeezed his thigh and moved my hand closer to my target.
He looked at me again. “What’s going on here?” he asked.
I looked at him as if I didn’t know he was talking to me. “What?” I said.
He put his hand on top of my hand on his thigh. “What’s the goal here?” he asked.
I looked him in the eye. He was focused on me without a hint of disapproval. I thought he could handle the truth.
“I love to fuck,” I said honestly.
“I could have inferred that,” he responded. “What’s the catch?”
“Nothing money can’t resolve,” I informed him.
“Watch the movie,” he said. He returned his focus to the screen, removed his hand from on top of mine and left my hand in place.
“I have other opportunities,” I said.
“You’re on the clock,” he said simply.
I watched the movie.
I let my hand explore as I watched the movie. He shifted in his seat occasionally, either to improve his comfort or my access. When the movie was over we exited the theater. We lingered outside.
“So,” he said. “What’s the usual arrangement?”
I got a good look at him for the first time. His suit fit perfectly and his shoes looked expensive.
“Almost anything that doesn’t hurt or leave a mark,” I said.
“I was thinking more about the financial arrangement,” he explained.
“Two hundred,” I said.
“All night?” he asked.
“As long as it takes,” I said.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Ann,” I said.
“Thanks. You can call me John.”
“Really?” I asked.
“I regret the obvious innuendos but it really is John,” he insisted.
“Ok. Hi John.”
“Walk with me.”
We walked in the direction of the motel. When he turned into the motel, I stopped.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“You don’t seem like the kind of guy that would stay in a place like this,” I suggested.
“You’re right. I’m not,” confirmed John. “However, it’s the best available on short notice and within reasonable distance of where I’m needed in the morning,” he explained.
John led me to a room in the back of the motel. It was larger than the other rooms, almost a suite with a sitting area separate from the bed area.
“Nice,” I said in spite of the worn look of the furnishings.
“You really think so?” asked John.
“Compared to the rest of the place,” I said.
“You’re familiar with the rest of the place?” John asked.
“On occasion,” I admitted.
“You don’t seem like the kind of woman who would do business in this kind of place,” John said.
“It’s appropriate if I go to the movies,” I suggested.
John nodded in understanding and sat on the sofa at the end of the room and crossed his legs. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s see your stuff.”
“You want me to get undressed?” I asked.
“It is what you do, isn’t it?” he asked in return.
“It’s true, I usually end up naked but it’s usually a function of joint activity. I’m not a show up, fuck and collect my money kind of woman. I like to make my visits something of a relationship. Everyone should have a happy ending and that includes me. Anyway, I can’t do a strip tease justice without a stripper pole,” I joked.
John laughed with me. “I guess we’ll just have to do it the old fashioned way.”
John stood up and took off his suit jacket. He handed it to me. I noticed the Armani label as I folded it neatly and laid it on a nearby chair. “What do you say, we just take turns?” he asked.
I did a quick count. “That works is you take two turns to my one,” I stated.
He did his own quick count. “You have a point,” he agreed. “Let me even the score.”
He sat on the edge of the bed and removed his impeccably shined leather shoes. Removing his calf length socks wasn’t as easy but he managed, tucked his socks into his shoes, set them aside and stood in front of me again. “Who goes first?” he asked.
I figured that we were even and whoever went first would be the first to lose. However, even if John went first, I’d be the first to show intimate skin. That actually wasn’t a bad outcome. I was proud of my breasts and keeping my panties on while he flexed his penis in front of me had some appeal. “You do,” I responded.
“Nice try,” he said.
When I looked confused, he pointed to my feet. I was still wearing my sandals.
“Oops,” I said and kicked off my sandals.
“Thanks,” he said. “So, I have to take off my shirt first?” he asked.
“That’s how it usually happens,” I said.
“Do I do it or do you want to do it?” he asked.
I thought for a second. If I undressed him, he’d undress me and that always made me wet. “I’ll do it,” I said.
John smiled as I pulled his shirt from inside his trousers, unbuttoned it and began to slide it off his shoulders. When I stepped closer to reach over his shoulders, he put his hands on my cheeks and kissed me.
I never kissed my partners. As improbable as it seems, kissing was more erotic than fucking to me. Somehow, being face to face, close enough to kiss, was more intimate than being face to cock or face to pussy. Breathing each other’s air was more profound than swapping bodily fluids. However, this was different. I knew that John wanted something more than just a sexual release. He wanted this to be different, meaningful, and kissing me was his way to tell me that this was something more than just a business deal.
When the shock subsided, I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him back. Within seconds, we were not only breathing each other’s air, we were swapping bodily fluids. John paused for a second, completed removing his shirt and pulled off his t-shirt. Then he pulled my shirt off over my head without unbuttoning it while I unhooked my bra and let it fall to the floor.
We kissed for a long time, our bare chests pressing together and our groins grinding against each other. I don’t remember how we ended up naked and it didn’t matter. What mattered was we were naked and still grinding against each other. We fell back on the bed, my legs spread and John was inside me. He pushed inside me until he could go no further and began to stroke in and out, like a starving man at a buffet feeding himself with both hands.
I welcomed him inside me. I pulled him to me as tightly as I’d ever pulled in anyone else. I filled his plate and, as he consumed me, I kept piling on. I rolled us over and straddled him, pumping up and down on him, as hungry as he was. I watched his face, his eyes closed and his jaw set in a vice like grimace, determined not to end our coupling too soon.
But, he lost control and erupted inside me. He ejaculated hard. He pumped so much I wondered if he would ever stop. His semen was running out of me, across his thighs and onto the duvet cover.
We shifted away from the mess on the bed and lay alongside each other, content and at ease with each other. I hadn’t cum but I knew it was there waiting for me and John was going to deliver it.
“Ann,” he said. “I’m sorry that was so brief. I wanted more but my body wanted something else.”
“Two things,” I responded. “First, that was incredible. Never have I felt such passion, such intensity. It was perfect,” I concluded.
“But I owe you,” John said.
“No you don’t,” I insisted. “That was for you. Just you. I’m ecstatic that I could give that to you. Next time is for me,” I added.
“Second,” I said before he could respond. “Ann isn’t my real name. It’s my working name. My nom de guerre. Here, with you, right now, is not work. My real name is Tiffany.”
“Tiffany,” John repeated as if he were rolling it around in his mind, getting comfortable with it. “Ann. Tiffany. Seems backward. Ann should be your real name and Tiffany your working name.”
“Blame my mother,” I said. “I don’t think she thought I’d become what I am, but her choice of names was prescient.”
“And what are you?” John asked.
“Lots of things,” I answered. “A prostitute, a street walker, a call girl, a hooker or a whore. Whatever fits.”
“Tiffany,” John said. “You’re none of those types of woman,” he insisted.
“Then what am I?” I asked.
“How about a beautiful woman with a strong sexual urge and the skill and confidence to share and bring sexual satisfaction to others,” John suggested.
“But I ask for money,” I reminded him.
“A mere pittance of what it’s worth,” commented John. “No different than a tip a diner gives to a waitress who delivers an exquisite meal. It doesn’t change who she is. She’s still a woman and so are you. The only difference is the composition of the meal.”
I thought about what he said for a moment. “Thank you,” I said.
“You’re welcome,” he said.
Then we made love. Beautiful, prolonged love. Something way beyond what a diner would give to a waitress and John delivered everything I was waiting for, several times.
Exhausted, I napped curled up in his arms. I woke with John running his fingers through my hair and looking at me.
“What?” I asked.
“Tiffany,” he said. “I have a reputation of being impulsive and decisive. I’m also an excellent judge of character. I follow my instincts and I’m usually right.”
“Okay,” I said.
“I’m about to do it again,” he said seriously.
I sat on the bed with my legs in an easy Lotus pose, prepared to listen. John sat with his back against the headboard of the bed and his legs extended in front of him. The fact that we were still naked didn’t seem to have an effect on what was about to be a serious conversation.
“Okay,” said John. “Some background. I’m the CEO of a large international manufacturing company.”
He waited for my reaction to his revelation. I nodded. He continued.
“Over the past decade, we’ve made business decisions that shifted most of our manufacturing overseas. The business climate has changed and now it’s time to bring it back to the US.”
Another pause. Another nod.
“What I’m about to tell you, you cannot share with anyone. Absolutely no one. If the information should leak, it would have an immediate impact on what I’m working on and cost my company many millions of dollars. Also, you may not use the information to enrich yourself, or anyone else. It’s not public information and it would be illegal to disclose it or use it to make a profit. It’s illegal for me to even tell you about it. We could both go to jail if anyone made money using the information. Understand?”
I put on my most serious face, something that was difficult since I had been watching his penis twitch as he talked. “Yes,” I said.
“Your little town,” John continued, “is home to a large, abandoned property at the eastern edge of town. We’re in negotiation with the owners to buy it.”
“You mean the old Claxon building?” I asked.
“That’s the place,” confirmed John.
“What would you, or anyone else for that matter, want with that old relic?” I wondered.
“We’re not interested in the building,” John explained. “We want the hundred and thirty-five acres it stands on. Assuming we’re successful in buying the land, we’ll tear down the existing building and build a new, modern manufacturing building.”
“That makes sense,” I commented.
“It probably won’t surprise you, but there’s not a single suitable hotel within sixty miles of this place. The nearest is in the city south of here. That’s why I’m staying here, nearby while I’m negotiating with the owner. I’m also keeping a low profile so he doesn’t know who I represent. This place helps with that too. I think we’ll have a deal in the next day or so. If that happens, the logistics of moving forward will be a nightmare without a decent hotel nearby to accommodate the staff and engineers that will be coming here.”
“I can see that,” I agreed.
“We’ve already started discussion with a number of hotel chains to build something nearby, within twenty miles. We’ll need considerable housing during construction and later, when we commence operations. In the near term, during planning and while the hotel is under construction, we need an interim solution.”
“Okay,” I said.
“That’s where you come in,” said John.
“How’s that?” I asked.
“There’s a fairly large condominium development about fifteen miles south of here, on the northern edge of the commuting distance to the city. It’s also reasonably well placed for our purposes.”
“You’re going to buy some condominiums, aren’t you?” I stated.
“Got it on the first try,” John said.
“How does that involve me?” I asked.
I need someone to manage the condos,” John said.
“Why do I think there’s more to it than just managing the condos?” I questioned.
“There is,” admitted John. “Most of the early arrivals will be men and they’ll be away from home for long periods at a time.”
“And they’re going to need someone to go to the movies with them,” I concluded.
John laughed. “Don’t turn me in to the EEOC, but that’s exactly what I meant.”
“How does that make me anything other than just another whore?” I asked.
“You’ll be an employee,” said John.
“You hire whores?” I asked.
“No I hire Directors of Accommodations,” said John.
“Directors with benefits,” I stated.
“Not entirely,” John explained. “You will have the only decision on who you go to the movies with.”
“Assuming I’m interested, and I’m not saying I am, what’s the rest of the deal?”
Okay,” he agreed. “First, you’ll be a salaried employee. Director level employees start at $15,000 a month, are bonus eligible and get annual stock options. I’ll save you the arithmetic, that’s $180,000 a year. That means you’ll get a W-2 at the end of the year and have to file a tax return.
“Second, you’ll live in one of the condos, rent free. You’ll have a budget and can furnish it however you wish. All the other expenses, heat, light, gas, water, food, alcohol, are your expenses.
“Third, all of the units will be two bedrooms, including yours. That means, you might have a roommate on occasion if all the other units are occupied.
“Fourth, we’re planning eight units with a maximum occupancy of two staff per bedroom. That’s a maximum of thirty occupants with two in your second bedroom.
“Fifth, your responsibilities include management of the condo units, arranging for repairs as necessary and scheduling the occupancy and allocation of units to residents. Some of the residents will be women and I assume there might be issues related to assignment of units. You will be responsible for managing conflicts.
“Finally, you are not responsible for entertaining any of the residents, including taking them to the movies. However, if you and a resident share a movie, any tips they offer you are yours to keep. I don’t even want to know who or how much, nor do I care how you report them to the government.”
John paused and waited for me to say something. I thought about what he had said.
“And you can justify all this with your board of directors?” I asked.
“It’s already approved,” he stated. “I’ll just add it to the capital budget the board has already approved for construction of the new factory.”
“And after the factory is up and running?” I asked.
“We’ll still need accommodation for visiting employees, clients and potential clients. We’ll spread the expenses between the marketing and operating budgets,” John said.
“Including me?” I asked.
“Including you,” he insisted. “I think you may become a valuable asset in helping us land new clients and keeping current ones.”
“You mean, I take them to the movies?” I asked.
“Not if the movie doesn’t appeal to you,” John insisted. “However, our sales people do have a commission program. We could make you part of that.”
“You just made all that up on the spur of the moment, didn’t you?” I asked.
“I did,” John admitted, “but I meant every word of it.”
“If I were to believe you, when would I start?” I asked.
John looked at his watch. “About six hours ago,” he said.
“I already have a job,” I reminded him. “I wouldn’t feel right about suddenly quitting.”
“Not a problem,” insisted John. “Give them a reasonable letter of resignation. You decide how much lead time you need. Two weeks, four weeks. Whatever works for you and them. Either way, you’re on my payroll already.”
“How can you make all this just happen?” I asked.
“I’m the CEO. I tell someone to make it happen and, like magic, it gets done.”
“Okay,” I conceded. “Do we shake hands to seal the deal?”
“I was thinking about a movie,” John said.
I woke Friday morning alone in the bed. I could hear the shower in the bathroom. John was already up and about.
I knocked on the bathroom door. “Yes,” called out John over the sound of the shower.
“I need to pee,” I said.
“So, come in and pee,” John called.
“In front of you?” I asked.
“Or behind me,” he called. “It’s not a big deal given how we spent the night.”
He was right. He had his face between my legs more than once over night and he nuzzled my urethra with his nose. There wasn’t much left to be shy about. I entered the bathroom and peed. He never looked at me. I flushed the toilet and considered joining him in the shower.
“Whatever you’re thinking, it’ll have to wait. As much as I’d love to have you join me in the shower, I just don’t have the time this morning. I have an important meeting and I expect to close the deal this morning,” John shared.
“Tonight then?” I asked.
“Don’t tempt me,” said John. “I have to head back to the office and get things started but I’ll be back soon and I’ll have Janice with me.”
“Janice?”
“My wife,” John explained.
“You’re married?” I asked immediately concerned.
“I am and don’t you worry,” said John. “Janice and I have an open relationship. It suits both of us and we frequently introduce our partners to each other. Janice, in particular, wants to meet my lovers.”
“She wants to meet me?” I asked.
“She doesn’t know it yet, but I guarantee she’ll be as passionate with you as I am,” informed John.
“Passionate with me,” I repeated. “Are you suggesting she will want a sexual relationship with me?”
“Of course,” said John. “You do have sexual relationships with women, don’t you?”
I hadn’t and I’d never thought about it. However, there was no way I was going to derail the deal John was offering me. “Sure,” I said. “But never with the wife of one of my clients.”
“Great. You’re going to love Janice,” John concluded.
John dressed and headed for his meeting. I dressed, went home, changed and headed for work. The first thing I did was track down my supervisor and resign giving him two weeks’ notice. He objected and offered me a raise to stay. The $40,000 dollars a year he offered me was less than I would be making in less than three months.
That done, I headed for my desk and began to prepare to leave permanently.
I talked with John that evening. I told him I had resigned. He told me he had reached an agreement to buy the property outside of town and was immersed in the planning to get things started. He arranged for me to fly up to his corporate headquarters over the next weekend to complete the paperwork needed to get me on the payroll. He told me I could stay with him and meet Janice at the same time.
After the world wind of Thursday and Friday, I was looking at a boring weekend and last full week at work. I’d already decided, as much as I wanted to get laid, that I wasn’t going to the movies on Thursday evening. I was uneasy about meeting Janice and my imagination was running on steroids. I had no, zilch, experience in sex with another woman.
I’m not sure why, but I called Starr in Portland on Saturday morning. Starr answered the phone with a sleepy, “Hello.”
“Good morning, Starr,” I said.
“Tiffany? Is that you? Have you any idea what time it is?” asked Starr.
“Nine thirty,” I said.
“Maybe where you are,” said Starr. “Here it’s seven thirty. I’ve barely had four hours sleep. What’s so important that it couldn’t have waited until a decent hour?”
“Jeez Starr,” I apologized. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about the time difference. It’s just that I had to talk to somebody about what’s been happening to me in the last couple of days. Go back to sleep. I’ll call back later.”
“No. No,” said Starr. “I’m awake now. Lay it on me.”
I filled in Starr in detail about the events of the last two days. “Damn girl,” she said. “You’ve fallen into it. Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” I said. “But I’m feeling that I’m over my head and could use some help.”
“And you called me,” said Starr. “How could I help?”
“I’ve had several thoughts but the real load won’t happen for at least a couple of weeks. My first challenge, however, is next weekend,” I revealed.
“When you fly up to sign on?” asked Starr.
“Not that specifically,” I clarified. “Staying with John while I’m there is more concerning.”
“And Janice,” stated Starr.
“And Janice,” I agreed.
“So,” commented Starr, “you’re contemplating sex with another woman, you need some practice and you thought of me.”
I couldn’t say anything.
“Awkward, huh?” asked Starr.
“I don’t know if you could help but I hoped you might know someone who could,” I danced.
“Just ask straight out,” said Starr.
“Ask what?” I procrastinated.
“That you want to fuck me,” said Starr.
“I want to fuck you,” I whispered.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” asked Starr.
“Now that I’ve said it,” I agreed.
“I have to dance tonight but then I’m free until Thursday,” suggested Starr.
“Then you’ll help me?” I asked.
“I’ll fuck you,” said Starr. “If it helps you then that’s a bonus. Pick me up at the airport Sunday afternoon. I’ll book a flight and text you the information.”
The weekend dragged until I picked up Starr Sunday afternoon, then things accelerated. Starr looked different to me. I hadn’t seen her in months. Her tits looked larger and her legs longer. Maybe it was the low scooped blouse she wore or the heels and extremely short shorts that did little to hide her anatomy. I got wet just watching her walk to the car at the airport.
We stopped for something to eat on the way back from the airport. I sat opposite her in a booth, distracted watching her breasts as she ate. She noticed.
“Like these babies?” she asked, bouncing them in both hands.
“I do,” I admitted. “They seem different than when we worked together.”
“I got them from a plastic surgeon in a barter deal. I fucked him and brought a stud I know to fuck his wife. He installed these a week later. His wife dropped by about six weeks after that to check them out. I checked hers out as well.”
“And your legs?” I asked.
“Oh. Dancer’s legs. You’d be surprised how much energy it takes to dance. Does wonders for your legs.
“You dance and strip?” I asked.
“Oh yeah. All the way. I’m popular and the tips are tremendous. Most of the girls earn over a grand on the weekends.”
“And you?” I asked.
“Like I said, I’m popular. A few months ago I started this thing using ping pong balls. The johns love it.”
“I don’t get it,” I said.
“You’d be surprised how far I can shoot a ping pong ball into the audience using only my pelvic muscles,” Starr explained.
“Sounds like something I’d like to see,” I commented.
“That’s not the best of it,” said Starr. “If someone catches one they get to reload. If they catch it in their mouth, they get to reload without hands.”
“Shit,” I said. “They allow that in Portland?” I asked.
“Nobody’s complained so far,” Starr asserted. “The chief of police was the first guy to catch one in his mouth.”
We got back to my place early evening. “Same place,” commented Starr.
“That’s about to change,” I said. “Meanwhile, we have to set up the sleeping arrangements.”
“I don’t think that’s going to be problem,” said Starr. She turned me around and kissed me on the lips.
Shocked at the sudden kiss, I stood still for a moment. “Do that again,” I said.
Starr kissed me again. This time, I grabbed her neck and pulled her against my body. Her mouth was open and my tongue exploded into her mouth. Eventually, the kiss ended with both of us panting from lack of oxygen.
“Damn woman,” panted Starr. “I thought you didn’t have any experience kissing a woman.”
“You started it,” I responded. “Kissing is kissing but kissing you is different,” I added. “Firm but softer and gentler in many ways and you taste different than a man.”
“And that’s just the kissing,” said Starr. “Wait ’til we get to the really intimate stuff.”
A few minutes later, we were deep into the intimate stuff. We had gone into the bedroom and undressed each other, exploring the exposed body parts as we went. Starr’s breasts were my first attraction. They were firmer and lighter than my own. I lay Starr on the bed and buried my face in her breasts, kissing her nipples and sucking them until they were blushingly pink.
“You like them?” asked Starr.
“I do,” I admitted.
“You can have your own,” she commented. “Any size, any shape.”
I rolled over and held my own breasts. “No thank you,” I said. “I like these tits very much. They’ve served me well and I’ve never had a complaint.”
“You’re right,” agreed Starr. “You have incredible breasts. Why mess with perfection?”
The rest of Starr’s body was equally fascinating. I knew and loved my own body as well as any woman knew her body but exploring the similarities of another woman’s body, with a focus on the differences, was exhilarating.
For example, my labia were short and narrow. My inner lips were visible when I stood in front of the mirror. Starr’s, on the other hand, were large and touched in the middle, hiding her inner labia from view unless her major labia were separated with my fingers.
My pubic hair was trimmed to a uniform length and the edges straight. Starr had shaved her pubic hair to a narrow triangle pointing to her sweet spot, a design she explained was a professional requirement. The customers in the gentlemen’s club preferred it that way and sometimes needed direction.
In addition, we tasted differently. We tasted each other and shared our taste sensations with each other. We agreed that Starr tasted more salty than I but I flowed more copiously when aroused. Starr’s vagina was also larger than mine, something she attributed to the fact that she was a larger woman and the frequent use of ping pong balls in her performances. It also meant she could handle larger men than I could without pain.
Rectally, we were both virgins, something neither of us was anxious to change although we did experiment with fingers in both ass and pussy at the same time.
Later, cuddled with each other was additional pleasure. Resting with my face on her breasts was vastly superior to similar positions with men, even men with well developed pectorals.
I went to work reluctantly on Monday morning. My boss met me in the office reception area. “Tiffany,” he said. “We talked about your position over the weekend and decided you should leave immediately.”
I told him it was unexpected and I wanted to fulfill my commitment to work the two weeks even though, inside, I was overjoyed.
“We’re concerned that your hanging around after you’ve quit could be a distraction to the others in the office and think it would be better for all of us if you left immediately. Of course, we’ll honor your two weeks’ notice and pay you for it.”
I put on my best disappointed attitude and headed for my office to empty my desk after grabbing a couple of banker’s boxes for my personal stuff. Packing my things didn’t go unnoticed by the other women. One after the other they dropped in to see what was up and I wasn’t hesitant to tell them that I had quit. Several of them wished me well and others encouraged me and wished they had my courage. We all agreed to meet at Sal’s after work, a pub on the corner up from the office.
I got mildly drunk that night. I hinted at the nature of my new employment managing the condos, omitting the details about the movies. One of the older married women, Carla, hugged me, wished me well and, in a moment of drunken affection, kissed me. That kiss reminded me of my night with Starr and kindled something in Carla. Carla was a big breasted, dark haired beauty with a deep emotional streak.
I took Carla home with me that night, introduced her to Starr and we tried to restrain our delight when she called her husband to explain why she was staying in the city that night. It was a hell of a going away party. Carla made sure I had her contact information and made me promise to show her my new digs when I was settled.
Starr stayed until Thursday morning. Wednesday, we had a serious discussion. I suggested that she could move back from Portland and share the company condo with me. I was certain that the number of staff using the condos in the future would be more than I could handle and going to the movies would be more profitable than dancing. She’d have no expenses except sharing the utility bills, food and alcohol. I even suggested that she bring her ping pong balls with her.
“You can really make all that happen?” Starr asked.
“No guarantees,” I said, “but I think I can convince John. I sure he’ll see the logic in it and agree I would need assistance. After all, how many movies can one gal see?”
“If you can work it out with John, I’ll consider it,” Starr committed.
Starr flew home Thursday afternoon and I flew to see John and Janice Friday morning. I was no longer uneasy about meeting Janice. John met me at the airport and I signed all the papers making me an employee with executive benefits. Other benefits were implied and unwritten.
John and I met Janice at a nearby restaurant. Everything John had told me about her was understated. Just watching her large breasts move under the form tight black turtle neck sweater as she breathed distracted me enough that I almost forgot to eat. The tight jeans and strapless heels she wore only added to my fascination. I realized that I had a strong preference for large breasted women, first Starr, then Carla and now Janice. I anticipated a more intimate introduction later in the evening.
Both John and Janice noticed my distraction. Janice laughed and pushed her chest in my direction, accentuating her breasts. “I can’t help it,” she said. “It’s inherited. My mother had huge breasts. I hope they’re not too intimidating.”
“Not at all,” I said. “Actually, I find myself strangely envious.”
Janice paused for a moment. I hoped she was considering the implications of what I said. She looked at my breasts. “You’re not without your own enviable attributes, but you can have these whenever you wish.”
That seemed to me to have only one meaning.
I managed to finish my meal even though I was wet just thinking about how the rest of the evening might play out. John drove us both back to their house where I was to spend the next three nights. I didn’t know what I expected, John being the CEO and all, but this wasn’t it. John and Janice lived in a monstrous log house on easily twenty acres of land. It had an isolated, rustic look.
Inside was another surprise. Everything that the outside didn’t have, the inside overcompensated for. The entire house was equipped with, not futuristic, but midcentury modern, Scandinavian designed furniture and appliances. We entered into a huge room with a conversation pit dominated by a huge fireplace on one end and a theater-like area with double width seating and a nine foot curved screen television on the other end.
I followed John into the kitchen while Janice settled into an oversized sofa in front of the fireplace. The kitchen had every necessary appliance known to man, or woman, and a few more, all in brushed stainless finish. John pulled a large Simon Pearce, blown glass pitcher from a cabinet, half filled it with Agalima margarita mix and eyeballed half as much Lunazul tequila. He added a couple of handfuls of ice and stirred it all with a glass paddle.
He took the pitcher in one hand and a decanter of chocolate brown liquid in the other. He told me to grab glasses from another cabinet and headed for the conversation pit where Janice was waiting. I followed him with three glasses.
John paused for a second on the way into the room to dim the lights and put the pitcher and decanter on the ironwood coffee table centered between the three matching sofas. I added the glasses and stood wondering where I should sit. Two things were apparent. John chose not to sit next to Janice and Janice had removed her sweater.
Janice, sitting pretty in her perfectly fitted, almost transparent bra, patted the sofa next to her, inviting me to sit. I sat. “What’s in the pitcher?” she asked John.
“Margaritas,” he replied. “The other is Nocino.”
“Oooh,” said Janice. “Sweet and tart or sweet and bitter. I think I’m going to opt for the sweet and tart tonight.”
I wondered if her choice was foreshadowing the rest of the evening and I wondered who the tart would be.
Janice turned to me. “I hope you’ll forgive my informality. The sweater was overly warm and starting to irritate.”
I was having trouble taking my eyes off her breasts. Her bra provided support but very little else. Her breasts were firm, without visible flaws and her nipples stood out prominently in the center of each tit. “You’re fine,” I managed to say. “There’s no reason you should be uncomfortable in your own home.”
Sitting there, I was afraid I was going to stain both my jeans and the sofa. I got up and walked over to a glass wall overlooking a large patio. It was dark, the stars brilliant in the sky and the half moon providing minimal light. I could see a large pool opposite the patio and the shadow of a mountain range in the distance.
John said something to Janice and left the room. Janice came over to me and stood behind me. Her hands settled on my shoulders. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Yes,” I nodded in agreement.
Her hands slid down to my waist. “It’s even more beautiful with you standing in front of it,” stated Janice.
I didn’t answer. I was speechless, shivering in spite of the warmth of the room, as her hands slid up my body until they cupped my breasts. She kissed my neck above my shoulder and I almost came.
She turned me around and kissed my lips. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was she was no longer wearing her bra. Her breasts were calling me and I didn’t resist when she pulled my mouth to her nipple. Her hands slid up my back under my shirt and unhooked my bra. When I stood up, she pulled my shirt off over my head. My bra fell to the floor and my breasts bounced until she held them in her hands. When she bent over and sucked on my nipple, I came in my pants.
Janice noticed. How could she miss it. I was shaking all over and twisting my body trying to clamp my legs together to stop the unstoppable.
“You liked that, didn’t you?” she asked.
“I did,” I said breathlessly.
“We need to get you out of those sticky pants,” she said as she began to undo my jeans. I didn’t resist and even helped her. I stood in front of her, naked and thin fluid running down my inner thigh.
Janice stepped back and looked up and down my body, backlit by the moon through the glass window. “John has excellent taste in women,” she commented. “But you exceed all my expectations. You’re absolutely gorgeous. John doesn’t deserve you.”
She began to fumble with the buttons on her jeans. “Help me with these please,” she asked.
I got on my knees in front of her, pulled her jeans down her legs and helped remove them from her feet. I then pulled the bikini panties she wore off as well. The gusset of her panties was as wet as mine.
I have no idea what I was thinking, but I was unable to not stare at the tremoring hairless lips of her pussy with the tiny drops of glistening liquid hanging off them. I grabbed her hips and pressed my face between her legs. My tongue collected the droplets and then my lips found her clitoris. Something about her flavor intrigued me but I couldn’t identify it.
Janice gasped, grabbed my head for support and then fell backward onto the floor. She wrapped her legs around my head and pulled my hair. Her orgasm was as sudden as my attack.
I lay with my head on her abdomen. “Fuck, woman,” she panted out. “What did you do to me?”
I didn’t respond. I considered it a rhetorical question. I didn’t think she needed me to explain to her what she already knew. I reached up and fondled her breast, rolling her nipple between my fingers.
“You don’t quit, do you?” she asked.
“Not unless you do,” I said. “And even then, I’ll try to talk you out of quitting.”
She rolled us over and straddled my waist, a damp spot gathering just below my navel. I reached up and fondled both her breasts.
“We need to take this upstairs,” she said.
She stood up and helped me up. The room was empty except for us. “Where’s John?” I asked.
“He went upstairs. He said he had stuff to do and we needed time to know each other better,” Janice explained.
“Very considerate of him,” I said.
“And self serving,” said Janice. “He’s counting on both of us thanking him later.”
“Separately or together?” I asked.
“Yes,” said Janice simply. She took my hand and led me up the stairs from the foyer.
The master bedroom was beyond huge. A bed, larger than any I’d ever seen dominated the space. It had to be at least twenty feet square.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Janice commented.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” I agreed.
“We had it specially made,” explained Janice. The edges are all king sized mattresses and the center is a water bed,” she described. “The sheets have to be specially made and are outlandishly expensive.”
“Sounds like fun,” I said. “Where’s John?”
“There are four other bedrooms,” explained Janice. “I assume he’s in one of them.” She pointed to a nearby door. “The bathroom’s through there if you have to pee or anything else.”
“Thank you,” I said and headed for the bathroom.
The bathroom was another surprise, although I should have expected it. The glass walled walk in shower had six shower heads on two levels and a pair of hand held shower wands. It was large enough for a volleyball team. The nearby Jacuzzi tub was large enough for the volleyball team and their coaches. The toilet sat next to a bidet opposite the twin sinks with a large mirror on the wall over them.
I walked in and sat on the toilet. I hadn’t realized that Janice had walked in behind me.
“Don’t bother to get up,” she said and headed for a sink.
“What the hell?” I thought. I peed, dried and flushed. I walked over to the other sink to wash my hands.