There’s a healthy demand for more of this story. So I’m going to do my best to keep writing it. I hope you all enjoy it!
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The next day I spend with Kelly. We went to my gym around 11, went to breakfast and then we got dressed (we showered up at the gym), and caught a silly movie in the afternoon. Dinner, this time on Kelly, and then we went back to my place and had some great sex together. Sounds pretty great, doesn’t it?
Eh. There were problems already, and we’d only been seeing each other a short period of time, and I was finding my mind wandering. I met Vanessa the night before when we worked together with one of my clients. She was a call girl, high end like me, and after we had a threesome with Sam (my client), we went for a few drinks, a bite to eat, and pleasant conversation. We found we had a lot in common in our backgrounds as well as cultural interests, plus we were both baseball and football fans, while Kelly didn’t like team sports.
I was calling Vanessa once or twice a week, or she was calling me, though we hadn’t been out socially so far. I liked talking to her, as she was the only woman (or man) I knew that I could talk to openly about my work and know there was no judgement on her part. She was doing the same thing, except she was a woman working with men. So we could easily relate to our work problems, along with other issues. I wanted to take her out, but between each of our schedules, there wasn’t a lot of time where we had the same days off. The only day we did have in common was Tuesdays, and I had those reserved for Kelly at night, assuming she didn’t work late. I really did want to get together with Vanessa.
My biggest problem with Kelly was she kept saying how it was too early to make any sort of commitment to each other, which would almost certainly require me to stop working as an escort/gigolo, a ‘job’ I was very well paid for and from which I was saving quite a lot of money. Kelly, who was rich (we met through her very wealthy mother; read Part 1) didn’t understand the appeal of making a lot of money for me, a middle-class guy from Brooklyn. When I started working in this field, I was facing the prospect of going to grad school for psychology and taking on tens of thousands of dollars or more in debt. I was undecided about a career in psychology, but I would be able to pay easily if I went back to school now. Her inability to understand this was annoying. And then, that Sunday night, she pissed me off.
We were lying in bed at her place after sex, very relaxed and slipping towards sleep, when she said “You know, Paul, if you stopped working that awful job, it wouldn’t cost you any money out of your pocket. I could easily replace however much you needed each week. I’m rich on my own. My father left me a lot of money when he died. I could make up what you’d lose every week for as long as you need until you find proper employment.”
I sat upright in the bed, very quickly. “Kelly, what do you think I am? Some sort of kept man? I’ll just sit around, waiting on your beck and call, run your errands and then fuck you when you want? Until you decide when I can go out and find a job?” I was furious and she could see it.
“No, Paul! You wouldn’t have to do anything! Just stop screwing around with all those women. I don’t want to share you.” Her eyes were welling up with tears. “Paul, darling… I love you.” The tears were falling down her cheeks, along her neck and one, improbably, fell along her left breast and clung to her pink nipple, just hanging on.
Gentler now. “Kelly, look, I appreciate how you feel. But I’m not just going to take money from you. First of all, I don’t need your money. I have money set aside. I wouldn’t take money to just be someone’s personal gigolo. Not yours, not anyone’s, not even your moms. I work with whom I want, when I want. You called my job “awful”. I might have thought like that before I started. But honestly, I like what I do. Sure, sex is a factor, but that’s not why. I’ve met some wonderful ladies over the years, and I am a help and a comfort to them. I listen to them in a way their husbands never do or did. And I’m sorry to hurt you this way, but I don’t love you, Kelly. Not in the way you want. I love you as my friend, I care about you, and I want you to be happy. But I don’t love you like I think about my future with you. I don’t feel that way, and I don’t know if I ever will. This is the first time I’ve had a personal relationship with a woman in a long time, and it feels good inside. And to be honest, I really hate what you said about my job. I like what I’m doing. I’m living a life I never thought I’d have. Maybe that makes me shallow. I’m comfortable with my life, for now.” I looked at her with some defiance.
She was crying hard now. “Sure, you like your life! You fuck every piece of ass who can afford your fee! You’re just a low person, selling yourself! A fucking whore!”
“Kelly,” I said very softly, maybe so it would sting, “we met because you hired this “whore” to do something for you no other man was able to do. Maybe because you were such a closed-up bitch.” Shit, not my proudest moment of my life, exactly. But she really hurt me and pissed me off.
I got out of bed and got dressed quickly. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” she challenged, pure venom in her voice now.
“I’m leaving. I don’ t think we should see each other for a while. I’ve seen what you really think of me, and I don’t exactly like it.” I buttoned up my shirt and sat on the bed to put on my socks and shoes.
“If you leave here, I’ll tell my mom what we’ve been doing behind her back! She’ll drop you like a bad habit! Your best ‘customer’!” She looked positively manic. And like she wasn’t kidding.
“You do what you have to do. I’d hate to have to stop working with your mother. She treats me with respect in a way you seem to be incapable of doing. You know what I think? I think you can cum with me, something no other man has been able to do for you, and you’re terrified of losing that. That you won’t be able to find it with another man. You shouldn’t worry about that, Kelly. I think you can if you want to. In any case, you and I are done. I won’t be coming back. I’ll send you your things on Monday.”
“Go, get out! You’re nothing but a whore! Go fuck your old ladies! You’re incapable of loving anyone! You want to know why your relationship with your parents is shit? Because YOU’RE shit! A shitty person! You cheap son of….” I didn’t hear the rest; by then the door to her apartment was closed behind me and I went into the middle of the night and called for an Uber.
On the ride home, I thought. A lot. Some of what I said to Kelly needed to be said; she was treating me not like a boyfriend but as a personal employee, paid to be at her exclusive call. And calling me a ‘whore’ really hurt, maybe because there was some truth to it. But the word is so pejorative. She could have made her point in a nicer way. So could I. I hurt her. I don’t like hurting people in any manner.
Tired as I was when I got home, I didn’t get much sleep that night. I was bothered both by Kelly’s behavior as well as my own. I decided I would call her at work when I woke up and try to at least make things friendly between us. I set my alarm for 10 and eventually drifted off to sleep.
I didn’t make it to 10. A little after 9 I got a call from Kelly, who was crying. “I didn’t go to work today, Paul. I didn’t sleep last night and I’m a wreck today.”
I felt bad right away. “I didn’t get a lot of sleep either. I said some pretty horrible things to you last night…well, early this morning, actually. I’m sorry for how I spoke to you, Kelly. I’m not proud of myself.”
“I started it all, Paul. The fact is, I don’t like what you do for a living, even though it’s how we met. I get jealous of you being with all those other women. Especially my own mother. It’s just too much to deal with. It would be hard enough if you had a traditional job and were just dating other women. My feelings are getting strong for you. I mean, you made me feel something I thought I’d never experience. And I think I got over-attached because of it. But I don’t think we should see each other, Paul. You and your job, you and my mom…. it’s just way too much. If we kept seeing each other, it would turn into a fight every time. If you want to stay as friends, that’s good for me. But I can’t have an intimate relationship with you.” She wasn’t crying anymore, but I could hear her breathing deeply. Nervous.
I closed my eyes and sighed with relief. She was thinking much like I was. “Kelly, thanks for being so kind about this. I was going to call you a little later at work and say much the same things, from my side of course. As things are, I don’t think this makes for a good relationship. But I would like to be friends. Maybe get lunch sometimes or have a day together when I take some time off. I think it will be better for us.”
“And don’t worry, I’m not going to tell my mom about us, aside from being friends. There’s no point anymore, and I don’t want to take anything away from her. You make her happy, Paul. It’s still strange to me, but I just care about her being happy.”
“You’re a gem, Kelly. Really. We can meet later for dinner if you want to return each other’s things. I’m buying.”
“You’re damn right you’re buying!” She said it with a laugh, and that made the ache in my chest go away. This would be better for us. If we could keep things friendly, of course. And that opened the door for me to call Vanessa. From that one evening, I felt a real chemistry between us. But I wasn’t going to call that day. It could wait a few days, after I considered it carefully.
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So you know by now, I’d been working for Diana Royce for over three years at that point. I was her most reliable and trusted employee (I heard that from her own lips), she raised my rate to all new clients, though the existing regulars were paying what they had been, for the time being, at least. Inflation hits all businesses sooner or later. I wasn’t worried about my regulars objecting when the time came. None were on a tight budget.
Most of my appointments were with regulars or semi-regulars by then. I had a few openings when a new client came along, and Diana always checked with me before I took on anyone new. I got a lot of respect from her, which I appreciated greatly. So I listened when she called me Tuesday to see if I’d be willing to take a new client, a potentially trying one, for Wednesday afternoon. “She might be difficult to deal with, Paul. From what she told me, she’s a fairly bitter woman and I can understand why she feels that way.”
“Ok, Diana. You have me intrigued. What can you tell me about her?
“Her name is Rivkah Liebowitz. She used to be a member of one of the Orthodox Jewish communities in Brooklyn, until six years ago. A couple of years before that, she was married and a mother to six children. Living as their community requires, a loyal wife and mother and strict about observing her faith. Then she had a horrible accident in the kitchen of her home. She got burned, all over her left arm, up her neck and to some extent, her face. I didn’t see her, so I don’t know how bad the scarring is at this point. Anyway, after she recovered, her husband all but abandoned her. Some of the men in those communities aren’t exactly the most loving and warm husbands to begin with, and he just stopped caring about her. But he wanted the children. In that world, the men get what they want. He presented her with a religious divorce and took their kids. That was by far the worst thing. She doesn’t see her children, not for years now. And then she was so sad, no one wanted to be around her. She was ‘encouraged’ to leave. Her husband was a wealthy jeweler and he paid her a sizable amount to go away. She’s 52, she lives on the Lower East Side. She’s never had a good sexual relationship in her life and she wants to see what it’s like, and if a man can be attracted to her.”
I closed my eyes and ached for that poor woman. Growing up in Brooklyn with friends of all faiths, I had heard some pretty awful things about the Ultra-Orthodox and how they treat women, including their wives. This was a terrible story to hear.
“Diana, I feel horrible for her. I’ve read some things about life in that community, so I know a little about how she was raised. Go ahead, make the appointment. Don’t charge her the new rates, but don’t give her a discount either. She might feel it’s being done out of pity, and that would only hurt her worse.”
“She doesn’t have an account, so she’ll pay you directly. You know what’s appropriate. Do whatever you think is right. You’re not the only one who feels awful for her.” So Diana set the appointment for 2 on Wednesday at Rivkah’s apartment on Clinton Street off Delancy, on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. There was still a Jewish community there, though not a strict Orthodox one. Rivkah could feel like she was among her own people to some degree, as I found out when I met her.
I was prompt, as always, when I knocked on her door. Rivkah opened the door and said “You must be Paul. I’m Rivkah. Please come in.” Very polite, but very reserved. She didn’t smile, didn’t extend her hand. She turned and walked into the small apartment, and I followed. “Please sit down” she said, again with little animation.
“Thank you, Rivkah. It’s nice to meet you.” I offered my hand, but she didn’t reach back. We both sat down, and I got a good look at her. She looked her age, at the least. Almost all the women I met did what they could to look their best. Some were heavier than others, some were plainer. They all used make-up, all got their hair styled regularly, got their nails done, etc. Even when we weren’t going out in public, looking their best made them feel good about themselves and they liked looking good for me, like they had been doing for men since they started dating years ago. There was no such attempt by Rivkah. How much of that was a cultural thing and how much was her giving up on herself, I don’t know.
Her hair was uncolored and not styled, giving it a mousy brown look, though it was clean. No make-up, so her face was very pale because she didn’t go out much. She relied on deliveries for most of her needs. Her clothes kind of draped over her body. From her face, she looked like she was kind of thin, maybe skinny. She just wasn’t taking care of herself. And there were the obvious scars. The left side of her face had some of that melt-look you see on burn victims, but not nearly as bad as her left arm, which was badly burned and scarred. Why she didn’t get plastic surgery, I couldn’t imagine. Like Diana, I felt awful for her. Her family, her community treated her like shit. I was determined to do what I could for her, to show her that her life wasn’t over.
I tried to engage her in conversation, but she answered in mostly one-word answers. I thought for a minute and said “Rivkah, it’s a nice warm day outside. What do you say to going out for a bite to eat? Maybe some pizza or a cafe where we could get a sandwich or a salad. Come on, I’m treating.”
“No, I don’t go out, Paul. I’m kind of hideous. I don’t like to be seen.”
“Rivkah, you’re hardly “hideous”. You have some scars. I won’t lie to you and say they’re hardly noticeable. But Rivkah, we all have scars. Every one of us. Yours are just on the outside. Most of us carry ours on the inside, where they hurt worse. Come with me. Some children might look, but most people won’t give a damn.” I stood up and held out my hand.
She tossed it over in her head for a few minutes before she said “Only if I pay. You’re my guest, Paul.” She even tried to smile a little, which brought out a big smile on my face.
We went to the street, where there were a lot of private stores and small restaurants, nothing even close to fancy. It was a nice day, warm and mostly sunny, and I convinced her to walk about six blocks with me to Katz’s Delicatessen, famous for their hand-cut pastrami sandwiches and for the famous scene in the movie “When Harry Met Sally” where Meg Ryan fakes an orgasm and the old woman nearby says “I’ll have what she’s having.” We ordered our sandwiches and talked. And we talked. And talked. Years of suppressed conversation came spilling out from Rivkah as we ate. I asked a few questions here and there to keep her talking. Some of it was bitter resentment over how her husband, to whom she devoted herself, left her after her accident, how he took her kids. I encouraged her to look into hiring a lawyer.
“I would think a good lawyer could argue before a judge that you were coerced to give up custody of your children at a time when you were at your lowest. I know judges here give the religious courts a lot of leeway. But if you got a fair-minded judge, you might have a chance to get your parental rights restored, at least for your children that are still minors. It’s a chance, at least.”
She shared a small smile, more than she shared all afternoon. “They don’t even know me anymore, Paul. You’re so sweet to listen to me go on and on. You’re a fine young man. You remind me of my oldest, Moses, who’s older than you. He’s 32 now. Working for his father.” She got sad and I held her hand across the table and gave it a gentle squeeze. I left the subject of her children alone after that.
By the time we walked back to her apartment, it was after 4, the time our appointment was supposed to end. I didn’t have a later appointment that night. And we hadn’t done what I had been primarily hired for.
In her apartment, Rivkah said “Paul, this was such a nice afternoon. A little painful, but mostly pleasant. And you’re such sweet company. Let me get you your money so you can be on your way.”
I took her hand and stopped her. “Why? We haven’t done what you hired me for, Rivkah. I’m not in a rush. And I haven’t earned any money yet.”
She paused, unsure what to say next. Finally, “Paul, you don’t have to do this. I had a very good time with you already. And I know I’m not an attractive woman. I’m plain and I’ve got these scars…”
“Who says you’re not attractive? I didn’t. I think you could be lovely. Beautiful.” I stepped closer and touched her cheek, her scarred cheek. “Sexy, even. Desirable.” I moved to kiss her lips and she pulled back a little.
“No, I’m not. I appreciate what you’re trying to do for me, but I know what I am, and who I am.”
“Rivkah, I firmly believe every woman is beautiful in her own way, unless she has a cruel inner self. And that is certainly not you. I wish life was better to you. I don’t understand a man like your husband. I won’t even try. Now, if you still want to go to bed with me, I’m more than willing. I want us both to have a great time.” I took her hand and gave it a nice, firm squeeze, and then I kissed her lips, which were trembling. “I know you’re nervous. I know this can be a little scary for a woman who’s only been with one man in her life. And that was more than a few years ago. But trust me. There is nothing about sex that’s changed since you last slept with a man. We’ll go at your pace.”
“That’s not true for me. I have done some reading since I was divorced, and there’s a lot I wasn’t even aware of. I read about… oral sex, and I barely ever heard about it. I don’t think I want to try it. I don’t think I’ve ever had an orgasm. I never tried it for myself; the Bible forbids it. I just want to have sex with a man who will try to make me feel something.” She was beet red, ashamed about even talking about it. The way some men treat women they’re supposed to love.
“We won’t do anything you don’t want to do, Rivkah. And I understand what you’re talking about. My name, Paul Miller, is actually a pseudonym. I don’t share my real name, but I’m from Brooklyn and I have a number of Jewish friends. So I know a little of what you’re talking about.” I took her hands in mine and made sure we were making eye contact. “We’ll take things very slow. It’s called foreplay, building up…”
“I know what foreplay is, Paul. I read about it. Are you sure you want to do this with me? I really don’t know anything about sex.”
“You’ll learn, Rivkah. So much of this is instinctive and comes naturally if you just let yourself go with it. I’ll do my best to make us both feel good.” I stood up and pulled her up with me with a light touch. She did want to try. I could see it on her face. I’m good at reading people.
“Before I change my mind…” she said as she led me to her bedroom. I undressed for her, letting her see a naked man for the first time in her life. It was harder for her to disrobe in front of me, but I gently coaxed her and soon she was as naked as I was. She didn’t have a good body. She wasn’t heavy, but her muscles weren’t toned. She had kind of let herself go over the years, plus she was a mother six times over. But I can find beauty in any woman, and as we kissed over and over on her bed, I became erect, and she was getting aroused as she was touched for the first time in her life in a loving way. I caressed her breasts, and I lightly sucked her nipples, something her husband never did for her, or for himself. After a while we made love nice and slow, and Rivkah’s passion kept growing as I kissed her repeatedly, on her face and neck. And I paid special attention to her breasts, which were heavy and pale. Her nipples were sensitive, and the attention kept making her hotter. I made sure I held out, delaying my own orgasm, until Rivkah finally came. It was a surprise for her, something she never felt before, and she absolutely loved it. She was loud, her breathing was uneven and shallow. Her body got stiff and then shook wildly.
When she was through her climax, she kissed me, taking the initiative for the first time, not a deep kiss, but almost maternal in a way. Appreciative. “Paul, I’ve never felt that before! Never anything so good in my life.” Her legs were around me, but she was getting tired. She just wasn’t in shape to keep going much longer. She was covered in perspiration and was trying to catch her breath. “Thank you so much. So much.” And she cried. She lost so much time in her life. She hadn’t had much reason to be happy in years.
“You’re very welcome, Rivkah. I enjoy giving my clients pleasure. Yes, this pays me very well, but I do like making women feel good, not just from sex, from affection as well.” I eased out from her body, still obviously hard.
“You didn’t, um, finish, Paul. I don’t know what to do for you. I can’t let you leave like that. It would be a sin.” She clearly felt very sincere about this.
“Tell you what. If you have a little hand lotion or moisturizer, you could use your hand and I’ll guide you through it. It can be a lot of fun.”
She took a small bottle of lotion from her night table, and I showed her how to use her hand to make a man feel very good. She was a little clumsy, being unfamiliar with a man’s penis, but she was willing and when I came on her tummy, she giggled from the unfamiliar sensation of warmth and stickiness on her belly.
When I cleaned up and dressed, I told Rivkah what my fee was and she brought me an envelope of cash, something I rarely had to deal with. She even went to tip me, but I stopped her. “That won’t be necessary, Rivkah. It was my pleasure to do this with you.”
“Do you accept a gratuity from your other women, Paul?”
“Yes” I admitted. “But it’s not required.”
“Well, if you accept it from other’s you’ll accept it from me. I don’t want to be treated any different from any other woman.” I accepted her money with a bit of a sheepish smile.
Before I left, I held her hands in mine and said “Rivkah, one word of advice. Don’t let this be your only time. I don’t mean with me. I’m saying go on a dating site, or maybe a friend can introduce you to a good man. Don’t shut yourself down. You know you have it in you to enjoy sex. And more importantly, you know you can enjoy sharing your inner self with a man. Follow up. Try to meet a man, or even two or three. You’re still a young woman. Enjoy your life. And try to find a lawyer who can help you see your children. Forget your scars. A good man won’t care. They’ll only care about who you are inside.” With that, I kissed her as a lover, and she returned it enthusiastically.
She had tears in her eyes as she said goodbye, and I was out the door, over an hour late, but I didn’t charge her for the time. I’m supposed to, but Diana wouldn’t know. She might have even understood. Rivkah never called for me again. I’d like to think it’s because she decided to seek a more traditional relationship.
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The Tuesday after Kelly and I ended things, I called Vanessa, in the afternoon. She almost always worked nights, and her nights off she often went out with friends, so she was not an early riser. She’d get up around 11 and go to the gym in her building, so afternoons were best to get in touch with her. By this point, we were pretty close, and both of us desired more. It was hardly just that we both had the same kind of jobs. We got along naturally. As I mentioned, we had a lot in common, so we had plenty to talk about.
She picked up the phone and she was genuinely pleased to hear from me. We had been talking regularly since we met that night a month before, but we hadn’t seen each other since. I hadn’t had the time.
After catching up a bit, Vanessa said “So, Paul, what’s new with you? Keeping busy?”
“Work is always busy. Just like you. But Kelly and I ended things.”
“Oh, I’m sorry” she replied, not sounding all that sorry. In fact, she sounded delighted. “Mind if I ask what happened?”
“You know, I told you she looks down on what I do for a living. It’s not that surprising, really. I think most women wouldn’t like it. It made her feel threatened. And I just got tired of it, we had a fight, and we both agreed we weren’t right for each other. How this will affect how I relate with Anita, I have no idea. But I’m free, and to be honest, you’ve been on my mind since the night we met.”
“Funny. You’ve been on my mind as well. I’ve been wanting to see you since then. Is that what you’ve been thinking about?” Her voice had a very seductive lilt; there was little doubt what was on her mind.
“Oh, most definitely. I was wondering if you’d like to go out to dinner with me tonight.”
“I have a better idea. Why don’t you come to my place for dinner? I’m a very good cook and I have some mofongo marinating in the fridge. It should be delicious by now.” (Mofongo is a Puerto Rican dish that is also popular throughout the Caribbean part of Latin America, made from plantains, meat and various spices)
“I’ve never had it, but I’ve heard good things. Is it very spicy? I like a little spice but not too much.”
“It’s a little bit spicy, not too much. We can have something spicier afterwards.” She was teasing me, and very effectively.
“MMMM sounds like something I can’t say no to. Should I bring white or red wine?”
“White, the mofongo is with chicken. You can bring anything else you like. Something hot, preferably.” God, she was making me hot.
We agreed I’d be there at 7:30, giving us both plenty of time to get ourselves together. During the day, I went for a haircut and shave, and then took it easy until it was time to get dressed and arrange for an Uber. I was actually a little nervous, even though I had technically had sex with her via the threesome we had at Samantha Waterman’s over a month before. But this was very different, just the two of us and, assuming we’d have sex, it would be based on our needs and desires, not someone else’s. And despite the fact that we’d been talking at least once a week for that past month, this was kind of a first date situation. Anything could happen, good or bad.
As I was in the habit of doing, I got there a little early and just killed time out front of her building on East 33rd Street, off 3rd Avenue. Then I went in and the doorman announced me, and up I went to her apartment on the 9th floor, with my stomach both empty and doing somersaults. In other words, I was hungry and nervous.
Vanessa greeted me at the door, casually dressed like I was in simple slacks and a nice blouse and an apron protecting her clothes. “I’m so glad you called, Paul! And that you’re here!” I moved to kiss her lightly, and she more than willingly returned the kiss.
“I’m glad I called you as well. I can’t tell you how often I’ve thought about you, since that night. I’m glad you were free tonight. And a home cooked meal….I don’t get much of home cooking unless I do it myself. I’ll have to have you over for dinner some night.”
“A man who can cook! I don’t know many of those besides some chefs I know.” We moved into the kitchen, where Vanessa was making a salad to go with dinner, which was heating up and smelled delicious.
“Anything I can do to help?” I asked as she chopped up some peppers.
“Try my dressing. I made it myself.” She put a dab of an oil-vinegar mix on a spoon and I sampled it. Delicious! It had some zest to it and a touch of an orange flavor that mixed very well together.
“That’s great, Vanessa! Homemade mofongo, your own salad dressing… do you make a lot of Dominican dishes or other things as well?”
“I can cook almost anything. My mother was an excellent cook and worked at a local restaurant in Washington Heights (a neighborhood in Upper Manhattan with a large Dominican population), but she also worked in other places all over the city. She learned Italian, French, pub fare, and she taught me. It’s one of the few happy memories I have from my youth.” She left it at that and I didn’t push. Things were still new between us and it didn’t feel like the time to get too deep into this. Besides, my own childhood was hardly happy, except for my grandmother. So we kept things lighter for the time.
When we sat to eat, she served me this large portion, more than I planned to eat, but it was so good I easily finished every bite. It was a little spicier than I was used to, but I adjusted with a little help from the wine. All during dinner, we talked comfortably, and we told humorous stories that kept us laughing, sometimes uproariously. We also deliberately avoided talking about work. We did that sometimes on the phone when situations made us feel down, but for that night, we wanted to keep things easy.
After dinner, after I helped her clean up (her kitchen was spotless), we went into her living room and took the rest of the wine with us. At first, we were quiet, kind of flirting with our eyes and smiles. “So, Paul, what are you thinking about?”
“Honestly, I’m having the nicest evening I’ve had in a long time. If you don’t mind me saying it, I think you’re the most fun, the most interesting woman I’ve ever seen socially. I know, we’re possibly in for a complicated relationship but I’d like to try. All the times we’ve talked over the last month made me think about this possibility more and more.”
“Paul, I’ve wanted this since that night we met. We had great sex with Sam, no question. But the best part of that night was when we went out afterwards, when we were able to talk. I can talk to my girlfriends about most things. My closest friends know what I’m doing to earn a living because they’re in the same line. You’re the first man I can talk to about it, and I’m glad to have someone in my life I can be open with. No judgements from you, like you’ll get none from me.” She shuffled closer to me and
kept moving until our bodies were touching. “But if I may be honest with you as well, I don’t want to talk anymore for now. There are other things we can do with our mouths.” And she kissed me hard, pushing me on my back on the couch as she got on top of me.
“I think I’ll shut up now” I said with a low gasp as our lips went back to moving together and our tongues began to dance. Vanessa was aggressive and sexy and sensuous, and in no time at all my body responded to her. My breathing was rapid, a slight sheen of perspiration developed on my skin, and I was as hard as I had ever been in my life. This was nothing like when I get aroused for a client, nor even like when I was aroused for Kelly. My body felt like I was on fire as we shed our clothes right there on Vanessa’s couch.
When we got to our underthings, Vanessa was wearing a nice white lace bra and panties, but nothing overly sexy. I had on a basic pair or black boxer-briefs. But our lust for each other was like two suns colliding. “Here” I managed to blurt out, meaning we would screw right there on the couch.
“Here” she agreed, and not another intelligible word was spoken for the next fifteen minutes. We kept kissing aggressively, all over each other’s upper body and face. When we got her bra off, my face was covered by her big, brown tits with much darker areolas and nipples. Nipples that were just begging to be suckled and suckle I did. I licked her melons all over, the size and shape of cantaloupes, and soft, naturally so. No fakes here. I suckled hard while my hand pushed on her pussy over her panties, which were becoming fragrant with her natural essence.
In the meantime, she was applying expert pressure to my cock and balls through my briefs as she moaned sharply. We were kissing so hard we almost drew blood from each other’s lips. When I pulled off her panties, when she tugged down my shorts, we almost tore the material in our mutual desperation. And when Vanessa planted her pussy down along my cock, rough and quick, we both grunted loud enough to wake the dead.
In no time, her broad ass was slamming down on my thighs, making spanking sounds of flesh on flesh, her perfect, huge tits were bouncing with each stroke, and I pulled her down
so those mounds were crushed on my hairy chest as we kissed and bit lightly at each other. In other words, we were fucking with raw, animal lust. My hands were all over her body from her ass up along her back and then to her tits, massaging them roughly with my thumbs on her thick nipples. It was far and away the most amazing fuck I ever shared in my life. And I thought it was the same for Vanessa.
It felt like it lasted for hours, but it really was maybe ten minutes. We were sweating freely, moving together in almost perfect sync as if we were made to fuck each other. Vanessa bit her lower lip and thrust her tits out as she arched her back. Her orgasm was intense and her pussy, already impressively snug, squeezed my cock when she rubbed her clit. A minute later I came, flooding her pussy with hot cream, making us a sticky mess.
Vanessa was sprawled on top of me, breathing hard, even harder than me, since she was doing most of the work. My arms were around her and her head was nestled in between my neck and shoulder, where I could feel the heat of her breath. My hands slid effortlessly all over her body. I turned my head a little so we could kiss, softer now, much softer than before. We couldn’t move right then, even when we felt our combined juices leaking from her pussy, down my balls and onto the couch. She’d have to get it cleaned. Fuck it. It was hardly important.
Finally, we were back to being ourselves, enough so we were giggling, not embarrassed, rather in comfortable joy. I spoke first. I came up with the witty remark, “Wow!” I know, I’m a clever conversationalist.
“Wow indeed, Baby. You’re a real ‘semental’!”
“‘Semental’? My Spanish is kind of rusty. Practically non-existent.” I smiled as I kissed her nose.
“A Stallion, Baby. I haven’t been fucked like that in a long time.”
“Oh, I doubt that. Some of those men out there must be pretty talented.”
“They’re strictly business, Paul. I rarely get off with any of them. I know you have to get turned on and cum with your clients. I try to shut out mine. It’s easier for me that way. But I don’t do that in my private life. And you were amazing.” A big kiss this time.
“You were awesome as well, Darling. I haven’t felt that…. intensity… in years. You know I get off with my clients. I have to; it’s kind of expected. But it’s nothing like this. Like you.”
We slowly disengaged, trying to limit how much of a mess we made of the couch. Some stains were inevitable. “Vanessa, is this couch Scotch-Guarded? I think we kind of abused it. Oh my God, we didn’t use a condom!” I got kind of panicked, the couch becoming the last thing to be concerned about.
“To answer your question, yes, the couch is stain protected. I’ll get a damp towel and take care of it. And regarding your deep fear there, I’m on the pill. I won’t get pregnant, and I’m assuming we both get regularly tested for everything else. Just in case the condom leaks.” She smiled but didn’t laugh. Accidents with condoms was nothing for either of us to laugh about. More so for her than me.
I helped her clean up the living room, naked, but neither of us felt self-conscious. We’d been naked a couple of times together now, and we were seen that way by many others before. It creates a certain degree of comfort with oneself.
After things were tidy, we stood together, a little unsure of our next step. I touched her cheek and traced my fingers along her plump, red lips. “Vanessa, I hope you’re not done for the evening. I would love to stay and see what else we both enjoy together.”
She kissed my hand, then my fingers, each separately. It was incredibly sensuous, and a small sound of pleasure escaped my lips. She then took my hand and held it down at her side. “I’m glad you don’t want to leave, Paul. I was expecting more from you tonight. I can’t speak for you, but I have a very large ‘appetite’, if you know what I mean. It’s been a long time since I had a man to satiate it.” Her sexy smile was so fucking hot and I could feel my cock rising again without even being touched.
“I’m pretty hungry myself. And I can tell you what I’d like for my first course, but I’d rather show you.” With that she turned and pulled me to the back where her bedroom was. She let me use her bathroom first, then she disappeared inside for her turn.
“Be patient for me, Baby. We’re going to have such a good time tonight.” She turned to go into her bathroom, then turned back as something came to her. “I know you usually work on Wednesdays. Do you have an earlier appointment? Or just in the evening?”
“One, tomorrow night. After 8. So I’m not in a rush, if that’s where you’re going with this.”
“Perfect. I’ll make sure you’re fully recovered by then.” She chuckled as she closed the door and I just made myself comfortable on her King-sized bed. I looked around the room, expensively decorated like the rest of her apartment, and like my own. Our jobs gave us both a very comfortable living, if you can do it and deal with the psychological issues.
After almost twenty minutes, Vanessa joined me. Talk about being worth waiting for! When we had that first encounter in her living room, her underwear was nice and simple, not something you could really call ‘lingerie’. But now she was dressed up like she would be for a client. A really GOOD client.
I’d seen women in all manner of lingerie over the last few years. Mostly expensive bra and panty sets, sometimes stockings and heels. Some women like to dress it up for sex; it makes them feel sexier and beautiful, and they know the effect it often has on a man. Sometimes garter belts, peignoirs…. all sorts of things. But I never saw anyone wearing what Vanessa had on. She was naked on top, and her big, full tits had just a slight bit of sag, just enough to make her look like a woman and not a girl. But from her tummy to her hips she had on a panty brief that looked like a control-top garment, snug to keep the tummy flat, and then tight all around her hips and ass… and over her pussy. It had straps attached to lace stockings, like a garter belt, all of it in purple. She also had on 4-inch heels, giving her legs and ass an incredible shape. She had also done up her make-up, so her eyes were highlighted, and her lips were coated with a light pink lipstick.
I got off the bed and my cock led me forward to Vanessa. She was a goddess, incredibly sexual. Gorgeous in a very naughty way. I struggled to find words to say.
“Cat got your tongue, Baby? Or perhaps I should say ‘pussy’ got your tongue?” She laughed, knowing well the effect she had on me. She had it on hundreds of men over the years.
“I can’t believe how beautiful you are. I mean, you were beautiful before. I think you’re always beautiful. But this… I can’t even describe how fucking hot you are!”
Vanessa ran her hands very slowly up and down her body. I told you earlier she chose the name Vanessa as in the porn legend Vanessa Del Rio. But she really reminded me of Eva Mendes. Her sexuality was raw. “Thank you, Baby. You’re so fucking handsome yourself.” We embraced and kissed and kept kissing for a long time as our bodies rubbed together. Earlier, on the couch, was about pure heat and need being released. This was seduction, slow and sexy, naughty. I picked her up from under her ass and then my hands shifted to the bottom of her thighs. We kept kissing as I carried her to her bed, and I fell on top of her, and my cock was trapped between us. It was rubbing on the lace covering her tummy, freely leaking a thin, small stream of my lubrication. ”
“I told you before I was hungry” I growled, a sexy sound that made her tremble a little. “I just trying to figure out how to get you out of that thing so I can taste how sweet you are.”
We rolled so I was on my back and Vanessa was like a warm blanket on top of me. “You don’t have to get this off. I have a very special seamstress who made sure this has easy access so I can keep this on. It pleases most of the clients, and I’m sure it will please both of us.” While we kissed I reached between us and found an opening that was cut into the garment and expertly sewn like a crotchless panty. It was nice and long, from her anus to where her mound began.
“Damn, this is incredibly sexy. But you have to wear things like this for work all the time. Why are you wearing it for me? I wouldn’t want to make you feel like you have to. Not for me. I think you’re beautiful without the outfit. Though I love it.”
“That’s why I’m wearing it. You love it. And honestly, I love it too. I love wearing all sorts of lingerie in my personal life, even when I’m not working. I love the way it makes me feel empowered, sexy, and in charge. And you can eat my pussy and fuck me, including my ass in this. A number of other things I own as well. My seamstress is much like we are. She never tells anyone’s secrets, and she doesn’t judge. Now, do you want to keep talking about this? Or are you going to eat me like you said. I like to be teased, but only to a point.” Her expression told me she was horny and in need.
“I love to tease. But I love to fulfill my promises as well.” I flipped her onto her back and we kissed with tons of passion. From her lips down her throat, down between her heavy tits. Covering her full mounds with my lips, with little bites, especially on her nipples. Her chest was heaving with her deep breaths as I freed those soft, billowy brown mounds. My right hand was between her thighs, and my fingers found her gash. Two fingers went in easy, causing Vanessa to lift her ass off the bed and squeeze my digits. I curled my fingers to rub her G-spot and she cried out as she came.
“Eat me, Baby! Eat my hot cunt for me!” She pushed my head down until I was between her legs and my tongue was lashing her smooth mound and her pulsing clit. “Yes, you bastard! Suck my clit, my lips, suck it all!” Damn, she was blazing hot, and wickedly nasty when she wanted to be. I pulled out my fingers and ate her thoroughly, using my tongue and lips in all sorts of ways. Things I learned from the various women I’d slept with over the years as I discovered what felt best for Vanessa. What gave her the most pleasure as she spewed her dirty talk. Her nylon covered thighs rubbed my face and her tits were shaking as she tugged roughly on her nipples. Soon she was cumming again, soaking my face and down to my neck.
I picked up my head, rubbing her pussy with the tips of my fingers. “You have such a sweet pussy, my sexy bitch! Like sugar! I think I’m going to call you my Sugar. Or maybe my Sucre!”
“That means ‘sweet’, Baby. Sugar is ‘azucar’.”
“I like Sucre better. Because you are sweet. Your pussy and your lips. And your heart. Mi Sucre.”
I moved up so we were next to each other again, and we kissed a little gentler than before. “Maybe I should call you ‘azucar’, because you remind me of sugar. But for now, you’re my Baby. Or my sexy bastard.” We laughed together as my cock kept poking her hip. I was so hard I could have cum right then with just a few strokes along my dick. But I wanted to sample her other treats first. “Why don’t you sit up and spread your legs nice and wide for me? I’m going to give you the best blowjob you’re ever had in your life. Baby.” She said it like a sex demon took over her mind.
I moved into position as she knelt on the floor next to the bed, right between my legs. “I don’t know, Sucre. That’s a pretty tall order to fill. I get head from at least five women a week, you know.” I was teasing her as well as challenging her.
“I bet I have more practice than all of them put together. You’re going to think you’re living in heaven. Do you want me to go slow and tease you, Baby? Or do you like it hot and dirty? I can give you whatever you like.” She let her medium length hair tickle my thighs and tummy as well as the head of my cock. It was driving me a little crazy and making it hard for me to concentrate. “Which would you like, Baby?” Vanessa asked again.
“Huh? Oh, um…. why don’t you decide for me? I know I’ll love whatever you do to me, like I love what you’re doing now.” I did love it. It was maddening and amazing at the same time.
“Ok, Baby. My choice.” I felt her tongue flick out over my balls, tasting the smallest sample of the wrinkles of my scrotum. Her fingers were supporting my balls, and I squiggled around, just a little bit while Vanessa’s tongue started exploring the contours of my dick.
“Oh fuck me….” I whispered.
She moved her head slightly away from my cock. “Maybe later, or tomorrow morning. Right now, I’d rather blow you, Baby” she replied with a chuckle. She returned to what she had been doing. Using the tip of her tongue, Vanessa traced every vein that was close to the surface area, but she hadn’t touched the head of my cock yet. And still, she had me shaking like a leaf on a tree in a storm.
Her hot breath was hitting the glans on the head, and it was like surrounding my whole body in warmth. Then, finally, her lips, so full and soft and moist, made contact with the spongy texture of the crown, and she applied just a little suction, right where all those nerve endings gathered. She alternated between wet licks and hot sucking, and I couldn’t stop squirming around. She was right, she was the best I ever had.
My fingers tangled and twisted in her jet-black hair, expensively coiffed. Vanessa looked up at me, smiling with her eyes, and my look back down at her was full of adoration. Up and down, her tongue swirling slowly, then rapidly, making my dick jump involuntarily.
She took her mouth off my cock and jerked it in her hand, nice and soft. “Talk dirty to me, Baby. Tell me what a great cocksucker I am. Say anything you want to me. Just don’t call me a whore.” We made an agreement with our eyes and Vanessa went back on the attack.
“Suck it, my hot little bitch. Suck it like it’s your favorite all day sucker. You give incredible head, Sucre. Fucking incredible!” Her head was moving faster, her lips gliding over the head and shaft while she tickled my big balls, which were churning. “My dirty little cocksucker! Don’t fucking stop, don’t stop…!” She pushed all the way so my head was in her throat and that did it for me. I shot a heavy load of cum, thick ropes that she easily swallowed, one after another. She kept sucking, not letting me go, until she was sure she got every single drop of my seed. Meanwhile, my body felt like my strings were cut and I fell back onto the mattress.
Vanessa got up and leaned over me, kissing my forehead. She smiled, sweet and self-satisfied. “You look very happy, Baby.”
“Uh huh” was all I could say. But I know I was smiling warmly and I touched her thigh affectionately.
“I’m going to the bathroom and rinse out my mouth. I want to be able to kiss you.”
“So? Kiss me. You don’t have to go anywhere.”
“I just thought…. men don’t like to kiss with sperm in my mouth. At least none I’ve ever been with before.”
I reached for her and brought her to me so her body was on my own and I kissed her, no peck on the lips, but a full on deep and passionate kiss. I could taste my semen on her tongue and lips, but it didn’t bother me. Some of my clients kissed me like that after a blowjob and I found out a while ago that I didn’t mind. In fact, it was kind of kinky, and kinky rarely bothered me.
After a long embrace, our lips separated, and Vanessa said “Wow. You give great kiss” and we laughed together, a warm laugh that by itself brought us a little closer together. We kept laughing as she got out of that outfit. I’m sure it was kind of tight and uncomfortable after a while. After we each used the bathroom, Vanessa put on a simple and pretty white nightgown while I slipped on my shorts. “I hope you’re planning to spend the night, Baby. I like waking up with a man in the morning. Especially such a handsome man.” She kissed me repeatedly, short and sweet pecks on the lips.
“I’d love to spend the night. I just have to get going by around 1 tomorrow. I have to do some things before I work tomorrow night.
“That works for me. I also have appointments tomorrow.” We were a little quiet as we settled into her bed. We had a couple of things to talk over before we went to sleep. Vanessa snuggled close; we were tired but not sleepy yet. “Baby, we’re not going to have a problem if we keep seeing each other? You know, between our social life and our jobs. It could make things difficult.”
“I don’t think so, not for now, at least. First, we’re just starting out, we’re not committed. Not yet, anyways. We’re at the casual, friendly stage. Plus, we’re both doing the same work. We understand each other, that we’re not doing our jobs to get laid. I admit, I have to feel something to climax with mine. But it’s kind of mechanical in a way for me. A few of my regulars are close to me. Some of the ones I’ve met, under rough circumstances for them (Rivkah, for example)… well, I feel like I’m helping them with something much more than companionship for a night out or just for sex. Are any of your clients like that, or are they all just men seeking sex in whatever way they prefer?”
“Most of them just want some sort of sex, fantasy fulfillment, so on. But a few have issues of loneliness, they feel in need of a few hours of female companionship. I feel bad for some of them, and I can open my heart to them. But I almost never share what’s in MY heart. That’s my personal business, to be shared with my friends and my lovers if we get close. Like you and I are getting.”
“I share very little of my life with mine either, except when I might have to build some trust between us, to help them open up. I share as little as possible. The one exception is Anita. I told you, Kelly’s mom. My first client, and my best one. Friday night’s are for her, most weeks. But she’s an exception.”
We were quiet for a while, settling down to go to sleep, when Vanessa asked me one more thing. “Paul, are you interested in something more between us? More than just friends with benefits?” I didn’t see her face from that angle, but I was sure she was very wide-eyed, waiting for the answer.
“I don’t know what will happen, any more than you do, Sucre. I can say I wouldn’t have given you such a pet name if I didn’t feel you satisfy something much more than friends with bennies. I don’t know how this will work out if we become something more. If we start falling for each other.” Nothing in response. But there was a bit of tension, electric, between us.
Vanessa raised her head from my chest, and I could see deep into her soul, right through her eyes. “Paul, Baby, I know it’s late. But I want to make love with you. Not fuck. I mean love.” I touched her cheek, warm and lovely, and we kissed as true lovers, moving together, kissing over and over as our hand, s touched in the most tender ways, before she lifted her nightgown just enough for me to get between her legs and ease myself inside her. We both gasped from the amazing sensation, a sensation we had yet to share with each other before that moment.
Despite the hour, we took our time, finding our rhythm, nice and slow and amazing. Her legs were around my thighs, our lips sought each other over and over, and as we gradually built up to our respective orgasms, we both felt something much deeper than friendship in our hearts. Vanessa was whimpering and I was moaning, we kept kissing, dozens of wonderful kisses. I was there, but I held back my climax until My Sweet was ready to join me, about a minute or so. When we came, together, it was the most powerful orgasm either of us experienced that evening, even with the blazing hot fuck and the great oral sex we had shared earlier. We were both so warm, and we shared the most tender kisses as we eased down from the peak.
“I really do like you, Sucre. A lot. I think we could be headed for something special here.”
She touched my cheek, then let her nails lightly scrape down along my neck. “I think so too, Baby. I hope so. If we do, we’ll work the rest out. For now, though, come, sleep with me.” We nurtured each other and slept very peacefully. There was reason to feel the future was promising. But we were a ways from there. For the moment, it was time to just enjoy each other.
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The next few days passed as normal for both Vanessa and myself, meaning we both saw clients. For her, that usually meant 3 each evening while for me it was usually one per night, sometimes one in the afternoon and one at night. We both served the very top end clients, people who could afford thousands of dollars for a few hours of our time for whatever they wanted (within reason). It was mostly sex for Vanessa; most of her clients were married and couldn’t afford to be seen in public with a young woman, pro or not. My clients were more of a mix. Some were married and just sought sex, while others were older single women, seeking an escort for society functions (though we had to be discreet in public) and usually sex afterwards. It’s not an equal world in the way men and women are treated, unfortunately. In any case, we both earned around the same amount a week. A lot more than I ever thought I could earn in any job.
I again adjusted my scheduled days with Diana so I could spend most of my time off with Vanessa. Diana was mildly annoyed, figuring there was a woman in my life, but it was my life to live. She didn’t want to alienate me; I was one of her best earners. But she figured that if I got too close to someone, I would start thinking about doing something else with my life. She was probably right.
About three weeks after Vanessa and I started seeing each other, she asked if I wanted to go out dancing with her on Tuesday night. It was a good night for us to have a late night; we both were off on Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays, so going out on Tuesday meant no work for either of us the next day. We could stay out dancing as late as we wanted. And she knew a club up in Washington Heights, upper Manhattan, where she grew up, La Fortuna.
“I really love dancing” Vanessa said the night before at my place. I cooked dinner for her, garlic chicken stewed with vegetables and fresh, crusty bread. She was delighted to be with a man who could cook. “It’s Latin, obviously. You said you like to dance. Do you know how to move to the Latin Beat?” she asked with a seductive smile. I loved her smile. It made her beautiful face even more gorgeous.
“I’ve never been to a Latin club before, but I have good rhythm when it comes to dancing. The last few years, I’ve mostly been to functions where the dances are either slow or some medium paced Rock music. I’m sure you could teach me what I need to know” I flirted with her as she helped me clear the table after dinner. That night we were just going to a movie, a mellow evening which we both needed after our work week was done. The job had its stresses, more for her than me. Some of her clients could be very demanding and emotionally cruel. A quiet night was just what we needed.
Tuesday we started getting ready after 8PM. The club didn’t really get going until at least 10PM during the week, and even later on the weekend. Not that we had time on the weekend. But on a Tuesday, Vanessa told me it was busy but not jam packed, and her friends Marisol and Carmen also had the next day off from work. Carmen worked with Vanessa for Stacey and the two of them sometimes worked together when a man wanted two women. Marisol was a Dominatrix, in effect, a specialist. The three of them had grown into good friends.
By 10 we were ready to go, me in one of my now many dark suits and Vanessa in a killer little black dress, with a pearl choker around her throat. With her dark red lipstick, she looked like a different person. She looked the way she did the night we met at Samantha’s, except she was dressed to go dancing. We kissed lightly, teasing each other, until it was time to go downstairs to meet our Uber.
On the way uptown, Vanessa let me know we were just going for drinks and dancing, but there were nights someone, usually a man, would take a premium table for ‘bottle service’, meaning getting a bottle of premium vodka, usually, plus mixers etc. for about $2000, plus a 20% gratuity added on. A second bottle would cost another $600.
“You’ve got to be kidding! That’s some expensive night out! I’ve been leading this quiet life on my days off, letting my body recover, while you love the night life.”
Vanessa laughed in that light way she had that turned me on. “I’m a woman, Baby. I don’t pay for it. You should know that. Besides, I love going out with my friends and dancing the night away. I don’t go looking to meet men, except for a dance partner. They invite me to have a drink with them, but I never have more than one with anyone I meet. I don’t feel obligated that way.”
“Well, in my life the last three years, the ladies do all the paying. Until I started seeing Kelly, and now you, I haven’t picked up a check in all that time. It felt strange at first; now it’s almost second nature. But out with you, my beautiful, sexy lady, along with her almost as beautiful friends, I’m sure I can pick up the check. No problem at all, Darling.” I pulled her closer and kissed her neck as she laughed and tilted her head to give me more room.
“Mmm I love the way you do that, Baby. It gets me nice and wet” she whispered so the driver couldn’t hear. “This is going to be a fun night. Now and later.” She gripped my thigh, very close to where my cock rested, making it stir a little before she thankfully backed off.
We went inside the club, which was fairly busy though not jammed, and Vanessa looked around briefly before she spotted two very beautiful women over by the bar, and she waved with a big smile and shout out to them. She pulled me along and after they all hugged and kissed cheeks, I was introduced to Carmen, a bubbly, tall and slender beauty with red tinted hair, and Marisol, who was a little more reserved, average height and a little rounder in the middle, and lovely. She was the Dominatrix.
After the introductions and we shook hands, I decided to get one of those private tables. It wouldn’t have been possible on the weekend without a reservation in advance, but during the week I could get one from the Maitre’d for a couple of grand. It seemed kind of ridiculous to me, all that money for a bottle of vodka plus mixers…and service, of course. We had a private waitress who put the bottle of Belvedere into an ice bucket and kept bringing clean glasses and replaced the mixers when they were empty. The service was a nice touch.
The four of us drank and we laughed as they told stories about each other. I danced with Vanessa a number of times, dances that were fast, others nice and slow, and all of them were sexualized. Flirty didn’t even come close to describing how sexually charged the atmosphere was between us. It was all I could do to keep from getting the most obvious erection imaginable.
I danced with her friends a couple of times, flirty, but that’s where it stopped for me. It sounds weird coming from me, considering the career I was in, but I’m not the cheating type. What I did for work was just that, work. It had nothing to do with my relationship with Vanessa, and it was the same for her. For us, our jobs were no different than if we were accountants.
After a few hours of dancing and drinking (and into our second bottle), I was feeling pretty drunk, much more than I had been since I graduated college six years before. I waved off any more drinks. Vanessa put her hand on my thigh under the table, then moved it to my cock, which responded as you might expect. Drunk or not, I was horny, and she knew it. She was feeling it as well. Marisol was dancing with some guy, and Carmen was sitting on my other side from Vanessa, touching my knee. I was kissing Vanessa lustily while Carmen licked my ear. “Come with us” Vanessa said, simply, before sliding out of the booth and taking my hand, leading me towards the bathrooms with Carmen right behind us.
We went beyond the bathrooms to where a big man, clearly a bouncer, stood outside a non-descript door in a dark part of the room. Vanessa pulled a $100 bill from her purse, and he made it disappear in his pocket with a move that would have impressed Houdini. He opened the door and said one word, with a bare whisper: “Six” and the three of us were in a dark corridor with doors on either side. We went to room six, and stepped inside, moving a little drunkenly and laughing softly. There was a long red couch inside and not much else. We sat down, me again in the middle of the two gorgeous, sensuous women.
If I had been sober, I don’t think I would have let myself be with both women. In my private life, as far back as I could remember, I never was the fuck around type. If I was with someone in a serious way, I never slept with someone else. Threesomes never were even discussed. So the only times I was with two women were a few times in college and then a few times for a client. Vanessa and I never actually discussed our level of commitment, but it was kind of implied that we were a couple. We spent most of our days off together, and neither of us saw anyone else. Work didn’t count, as I’ve said.
I was loose enough to accept whatever happened, but not loose enough to make the first move, just in case I was misinterpreting the situation. I shouldn’t have worried. In seconds, Carmen was kissing me, lots of tongue, and her hands were moving all over my chest. Vanessa was nibbling on my ear, whispering things, like “You like kissing her, Baby? She’s got an amazing mouth. You’re going to think you died and went to heaven tonight. My hot, sexy man.” She was undoing my pants, freeing my pulsing cock from its confines.
Some guys, when they get drunk, can’t get it up with a crane. Others get hard, harder than normal, but they have trouble getting off. I fit into that last category. I got hard like Spanish steel, but it could take me a lifetime to get off. But I’d never been in this situation before.
In no time at all, Carmen was bent over my lap and sucking my cock, practically in a frenzy. No teasing, no slow approach. Just blowing me like she had a minute to get me to cum. But that wasn’t going to happen. When I’m sober, I can control myself well. It’s a necessary talent in my line of work. And when I’m drunk, I didn’t have to try too hard to keep from cumming. Soon, Vanessa was down on her knees, licking my balls while her friend was consuming my cock. My hand found Carmens tits, nice and shapely with protruding nipples that made her squirm each time I pinched them. Vanessa was right. I did think I was in heaven.
After a few minutes, Carmen moved up, kissed me hard again, and then moved so she was straddling my hips, facing away from me, her skirt up around her hips. She pulled her white lace panties aside and, while Vanessa held my dick straight up, Carmen sat down on my lap. Her pussy was wet, warm, and slippery. Pretty fucking tight, too. I grabbed her ass, helping her move up and down my shaft as Vanessa kept licking my balls, my dick, and Carmen’s clit. She moved smoothly along that path, making a meal of us.
“Fuck me, fuck me, FUCK ME, PAPI!” Carmen was crying out as she pounded me repeatedly. “Spank my ass, and do it hard!” I swatted her big, round cheeks a number of times, and her long red hair was moving wildly around her head, as if it was caught in a tornado. Vanessa stopped licking us, choosing instead to watch us with her fingers in her own dripping cunt, right down the front of her panties. She was a true sight to be seen.
After Carmen came, Vanessa quickly got onto the couch and bent over with her face in Carmen’s spread open pussy. Her big ass was up in the air, calling to me, and I got behind her and pulled the string and crotch of her little panties aside. She was so fucking wet my dick just slid in like a knife cutting into jelly, but so much tighter. I was fucking Vanessa hard and fast and she was lapping away at Carmen’s bare, swollen lips. Vanessa came twice all over my cock, Carmen got off again, but I couldn’t get there. I wanted to, I NEEDED to, but it was like I was numb from the alcohol. I was sweating so much between the fucking and the booze, my tailored shirt was clinging to my body.
Vanessa turned her head towards me and said “What’s wrong, Baby? Can’t cum? You’re making me a little sore.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Sucre.” I pulled out, my dick dripping of her juices and a little of my own precum. I was hot, sticky all over. I did need to cum, but I felt wiped out, tired as hell. “Darling, let’s go home, please? I’m just not getting there, not tonight.”
“Sure, Baby. We just need a few minutes to straighten up. Go use the Men’s room and meet me in a few minutes.” She kissed me on the lips, Carmen pecked my cheek, and we all got right enough to duck into the bathrooms, just outside from those private rooms.
After I peed (I really had to go!), I stood by the mirror with other men coming in and out, some giving me a knowing wink or a slap on the back. Between how I looked and how I smelled, they knew what I’d been doing, if not the specifics. I looked at myself, and I admit, I had some questions about what just happened. As I said, Vanessa and I never really defined our relationship, but what happened seemed to be the type of thing that happens in a casual situation. I thought we meant more to each other than that. I even thought I was on my way to loving her.
I ordered an Uber and we dropped both Marisol and Carmen off at their buildings, one nearby the club, the other not far from where I lived in Hell’s Kitchen (West 50s), we went back to my place, where Vanessa’s things were from earlier. By the time we got in, we were both sobering up, and the atmosphere between us was quiet, even a little tense. In my bedroom, as we disrobed, Vanessa said “Baby, do you need some help? Are you still horny? You must be aching there.” She said it with real concern for my comfort. She was a very sweet and warm woman for those she cared about.
“Yeah, I am feeling like I have blue balls, but there’s something we need to talk about.”
“I guess i can figure out what’s on your mind. Tell you what, we need to get cleaned up properly. Let’s take a shower, I’ll relieve your ‘problem’, quickly, and then before we go to sleep we can talk. Promise.” She leaned up and kissed me, a short but very tender kiss.
“Deal” I agreed. We got naked, got into my large shower stall, and Vanessa soaped me up all over as I did for her. We kissed with a lot of desire as she stroked my slick cock, jerking me slow, then quick, then slow again. After a few minutes I was ready again, and this time, when she twisted her hand all around the head of my cock, I let loose a small river of my cum, hitting her right on her tummy. It was a huge relief by then, one I desperately needed.
We dried off, put on some very simple sleepwear, and climbed into bed, both of us damn tired. It was almost 4 by then, late by just about everyone’s standards. Vanessa cuddled up into my arms. “Baby, I know I said we’d talk about this after we cleaned up. But it’s so late, and I know you’re as tired as I am. Is there any chance we can talk about it over breakfast? Or at least coffee? I’m pretty tired.”
“So am I, Sucre. But we do have to talk. There are some things I’m feeling…. unsure about.”
“I understand, Baby. I feel the same way. Goodnight for now. I love you.” She kissed my cheek and turned over to go to sleep. Like she didn’t just lay a bomb in my brain. I was buzzed, tired, and more than a little confused. Vanessa went right to sleep. I tossed and turned for at least an hour before sleep finally came.
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The next morning, we didn’t get up until a little before noon. We probably could have slept later, but my bladder was bursting, and me crawling out of bed woke Vanessa up. After using the bathroom, we went into the kitchen and turned on the coffee, then sat down and waited, thinking about what we wanted to say to each other.
We were sipping coffee, dealing with the dull aches in our heads. I broke the silence that was stifling the room. “Vanessa, I’ll go first. I’m curious as to why you had Carmen join us in a threesome in that back room. I would never have initiated it, I never would have risked hurting your feelings by doing that. Don’t get me wrong; both your friends are beautiful women, and you know a threesome doesn’t bother me; that how we met, after all, though in a ‘professional’ manner. And if we were more casual, it would have been a lot of fun. It WAS a lot of fun. But I never would have suggested it to you, and I don’t know why we did it.”
Vanessa sipped a little more coffee, thinking about her answer. After ten seconds or more, she said “Baby, I’m not 100% sure. I doubt I would have done it if we were all sober. But we were pretty drunk, and you know I’m bi. Carmen is a woman I’ve had sex with in the past, and when you were dancing with Marisol, she let me know how hot she thought you were. Maybe if we were committed to each other, I would have just let it go. But we’ve never discussed it. My inhibitions were down, she was hot for you. And I sensed you wouldn’t mind. I’m sorry, I wish I had been more sober.” She started leaking streams of tears down both her cheeks, her lovely eyes magnified by the tears that were still forming. My heart ached seeing her like that, worried she might have screwed up our good thing.
I pushed back in my chair, making some room, and I patted my lap, inviting her to sit there. Vanessa moved quickly, as if she thought I might change my mind. Her arms were around the back of my neck and mine were around her waist as we kissed a couple of times. “Sucre, I’m not upset. More confused than anything. I think it’s safe to say we’re both libertines when it comes to sex and being judgmental about it. I kind of wish you asked, but honestly, drunk as I was, I have no idea what I would have said. And if I was sober, I might have said yes, as long as we understand something. But I have to ask you a question first. When we went to bed last night, were you serious when you told me you loved me?”
She paled a bit, as much as a woman with brown skin, such perfect skin, could pale. “I said that? I thought I was dreaming. Oh, God! Baby, I don’t know what to say.” She cried harder and buried her face on my shoulder.
“Were you serious, Sucre? Do you feel that way, deep inside your soul?”
“I can’t say it, not unless I know what you’re feeling, Paul. I never would have said it first if I hadn’t been drinking.” I could read between the lines there. I knew what she felt. Now it was my turn.
“Vanessa, please look at me. I want to see your eyes when I say this.” She looked up into my face, sniffling but not crying any longer. “I love you, Sucre. I’ve been thinking about it for a little while. I was also afraid to tell you. I didn’t want to be rejected.”
Vanessa tightened her arms around my neck and kissed me, a big, wet, delicious kiss. “I love you too, Baby. Are you sure you love me? Really sure, mi amor?”
“I am sure. I love you, my Darling. Are you sure?”
“YES! Baby, I love you so much!” More kisses, lots more, of all kinds. Small pecks and big smooches and everything in between. We held each other for what seemed like forever, a very wonderful forever. “I’m sorry about last night, I never should have set that up with Carmen!”
“Shhhh, don’t be upset about that, Sucre. You weren’t trying to hurt me or anything. we all had a good time. I don’t know if I’d object in the future, but only if we make that decision with each other. That’s really something we’ll need to discuss, whether that would be something we do together, but not now. Down the road a ways. Right now, I want to take you back to bed and do some wonderful things together before I take you out for brunch. Would you mind?”
“Are you crazy? You’re asking if I mind being taken to bed by my love? Take me already, Baby!” Instead of leading her, I reached under her thighs and lifted her while she wrapped her legs around my waist. I just carried her back into the bedroom, where we kind of tore off each other’s sleepwear before making love together, passionately and lovingly at the same time. It was hot, sexy, and it was beautiful, all at the same time.
We were laying together, very, very happy and satisfied, even more so than usual. Our stomachs both started growling, and as we were about to get up to clean up and get dressed, something came to mind. Something that could be a huge problem. I took Vanessa’s hand and held it with great tenderness. “Sweetheart…. what are we going to do about our jobs? Do you think we can make this relationship, a committed relationship, work while we continue to do our jobs?” I had no idea, and from the look on Vanessa’s face, she didn’t have a clue either.
I was glad to love Vanessa; I was thrilled to love her. Seeing each other casually and working wasn’t all that difficult. Loving each other….. who the hell knew?
Who the hell knew?
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