'Green suede boots is what I'll keep my mind on', thought Zoe and marched inside the Drake Hotel with a determined step. 'The ones in the Bloomingdale's.
Tall, reaching over the knee with a half-circled hole above the heel. Sexy and sassy.' She carefully avoided the looks of the receptionists, who were too busy to pay her any attention anyway.
There seemed to be a slight traffic jam in front of the elevators and she wished she could have taken the stairs. If only she knew where the staircase was without having to look for it and so drawing attention to herself. The security guard standing in the corner next to the huge leaved plant scanned her with his eyes and then looked away.
Zoe sighed in relief. Of course employees of the hotel weren't oblivious to escort service girls conducting business in their midst, but it was always advisable not to draw attention. This was her first time at the Drake and her face was as of yet unknown to the staff. Crowd in front of the elevators dispersed somewhat and she was grateful to be able to join a few people and take the next ride up. She was late and didn't like that. She always considered punctuality a virtue and it was no different even in this particular line of work.
If only she could calm down and stop being so very nervous. Granted, it had only been two months since she joined the Golden Coast Escort Service, but even so, having dealt with some fifteen customers in the past eight weeks, she thought she'd be feeling calmer by now. Once she'd laid eyes on the man her heartbeat would slow down somewhat. Her hands would stop shaking after she took a sip of the first drink that was inevitably always offered. This was not some side street operation, which is what she would never lower herself to anyway.
It was only the means by which she would put herself through school. Waiting tables or mixing designer coffees at Starbucks was all nice and good, but it didn't pay nearly enough and she needed a lot of time for her studies. An occasional fuck for money was much more profitable and it didn't compare to the other jobs in time saving. Besides putting herself through school and having enough money for the rent, escorting also left her with plenty of means to indulge in luxuries that she couldn't afford for the past two years.
Luxuries like obscenely expensive green suede boots in one of the Bloomingdale's storefront displays. She didn't need them, of course, but she would have them now.
She kept her eyes on the row of the rounded numbers over the sliding door, wishing that she were out of the claustrophobic little box. She discretely peeped at her companions and smiled at the young liftboy dressed in livery, reminding her of a monkey frequently seen in the movies with the story developing in exotic locations.
'Am I going to your room?' She thought when her eyes paused on an obese, fifty-something man who struggled to breathe, clearly uncomfortable inside the tight suit and tie. 'I hope not,' went through her mind and she immediately regretted the thought. This particular man resembled her first John and he had been kind to her. He sweated too much and groaned too loud while fucking her doggie style and keeping an eye on the porn DVD, which he insisted they watched as foreplay.
Despite that, he was nice and had tipped her generously on top of the price that had been prearranged by the agency. 'What about you?' She looked at the tall and nervous, bespectacled man of undeterminable age with unruly mop of hair. He looked pasty as if the palms of his hands were continuously clammy, giving people a fishy squeeze when shaking their hands. He was wearing a wrinkled gray suit with a pink power shirt and a loud, abstractly patterned tie that didn't match.
'A salesman', she concluded. 'You?' Her eyes landed on the last in the group, a tall, handsome black man with carefully dreadlocked hair. Even from afar she could smell the masculine scent of his cologne. He was an impeccable dresser with manicured hands and clothes that were obviously expensive.
As if feeling her stare he turned and looked at her, giving her a wide smile. She blushed and looked away. Of course none of these men were her date.
She mentally smirked over the unfortunate pick of the word. Even though everybody called it a date that would be the last she would describe it as.
Rather a transaction for the services rendered or something to that effect, certainly not a date. The handsome man continued to stare at her and she became uncomfortably self-conscious. She didn't look like a hooker, which was the client's specific request. She was to wear normal clothes (she picked a light, flowery mini dress, very appropriate for the hot Chicago summer), no clown make up (light mascara and a few generous sprays of expensive perfume was all she went with) and basically she was to look more like a librarian than the prostitute she really was, even though she tried not to think of herself as such.
Escort service was quite a misleading term. Out of all dates that she had had, only one required an actual escorting involving a cocktail party thrown by one of the biggest advertising agencies in the city.
All the rest were purely about sex. Blow job, hand job, straight sex and anal, a client demanding to be called "daddy", taking liberties of calling her "bitch" or "slut".
It had taken her a while to get used to it all, but now she found herself to be bothered by it less and less. A job like all the rest, it had its drawbacks, however, she was rewarded royally.
The elevator stopped on the ninth floor and only after everybody present turned to her, she realized that it was her exit. She stumbled out into the corridor, feeling somewhat foolish.
It was not a day for being clumsy, the careful orders of the client told her that much. He sounded like a no-nonsense man and she was determined to make the best of impressions. After all, she was still in the testing period as it was explained to her and she was to make no mistakes in order to be able to remain with the agency.
Zoe looked to the left and then to the right as if checking out the invisible traffic. She tried to orient herself and inevitably took the wrong turn the first time around.
Finally, having found the room number that was given to her by the agency, she slid the fake Gucci bag onto her shoulder, ruffled her hair and then smoothed it down and out of the habit rather than need quickly lifted one arm, took a sniff and did the same with the other one.
Chicago was unreasonably hot this summer and sweating profusely was just an inevitable part of having to leave the cool confinements of her studio apartment. Satisfied that the scent of soap, deodorant and perfume were the only ones detectable, she took a deep breath, for a moment closing her eyes and softly rapped on the door. The hall where she stood knocking was quiet and free of any guests, which she was immensely grateful for. Sounds of television were all that was audible from one of the rooms farther down the corridor.
She waited for almost a minute and then knocked again, this time with a little more force. Banging would be quite improper, she decided and she'd stand here for a few more minutes before she gave up and called the agency.
She was certain someone was in the room, however. Just as she was about to try her luck for the third time, the door swung open, startling her. "Ah!" said the man standing in the room, clad in a white bathrobe, too thick for the oppressive heat that was enveloping the city outside.
"You're late!" he said and Zoe swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, the cab got stuck in the traffic." She lied, unwilling to explain that where she lived not many taxies were about and it had taken her quite sometime before she managed to flag one down. "No matter! Come in, please." Said the man in a very deep and husky voice with a melodic English accent, the combination of the three making it quite sexy to her ears. He was tall and athletic looking. Despite the thick bathrobe she got a feeling that he must have had a habit of vigorous workout.
His black hair was short and slicked back; she noticed the water beads on his exposed skin. He must have just stepped out of the shower. Normally her dates were in the evening, this one was in the middle of the morning, making her feel somewhat odd.
"Have a drink." He pointed to the bar and a small fridge in the corner of the room, grabbing a towel and rubbing his hair with it. His dark eyes were measuring her up and down as if in judgment. "Would you like me to fix you a drink?" she asked as she headed for the bar. "Nah," he said and laughed. His laughter struck her as odd.
"I don't drink for one, and I only need to get my rocks off before I head out for a dreadfully boring meeting." The statement made her wince.
They were both well aware why she was here. She was simply someone to give physical pleasure without the annoying foreplay of dinner and courtship. No pretences of romance or even affection. She was a prostitute and she was well aware of it, but she hated when that was pointed out to her so bluntly.
She would have to toughen up soon or it would get to her eventually, she knew that. "I'm just having a Coke." She said and bent over carefully, pushing her ass towards the man. "What's your name?" Asked the man when she straightened back up. She turned around and found him standing a few feet away, still rubbing his hair and staring at her intently. She was satisfied to realize that he liked what he saw; it was evident in his almost black eyes.
"What do you want it to be?" she asked and smiled, lifting the can to her lips and trying to look as seductive as a person possibly could drinking a soft drink.
The feeling of foolishness overwhelmed her. "I don't care one way or the other," said the man dismissively and turned around, heading for the bathroom. "If you're a good fuck, I might ask for you again. I always like to know what I'm getting, I'm not a very adventurous type." All business, just like she thought and doubted his last statement was true. She also had a suspicion this would be straight sex, probably a blowjob to start off with, but no kinky shit that she was always afraid of.
Especially at this time of the day, she didn't feel like performing any exceptional athleticism. "I'm Zoe," she hurried, taking a step after the man who by now disappeared into the bathroom. She mentally chastised herself for the clumsiness. Everything she did so far seemed to be off. The entire set of circumstance was playing against her confidence.
The "job" taking place in the middle of the morning; the guy was very good looking, handsome really and obviously completely unfazed by the fact that he is just about to pay for sex. Many a time she would encounter her Johns nervous and behaving as if they didn't quite know how to begin.
Not so in this particular case.
"Are you here on business?" she asked into the doorway of the bathroom, carefully scanning the bedroom where she stood. The make up dresser was full of small, exotic and inevitably expensive looking cologne, lotions and other things some of which she had no idea what they were. A laptop was standing open on the coffee table, the screen saver covering its contents. There was not a sock or any other piece of garment thrown about. Everything seemed to be folded carefully in little piles.
The room was absolutely immaculate, exactly as the man had appeared. "I don't have a lot of time." Floated the voice from the bathroom. "I need to be on my way in fifteen minutes, so why don't you get ready?" Now, Zoe regretted her choice of Coke instead of something stronger.
The nervousness didn't leave her and she felt just as jumpy as she did the first time she knocked on the John's hotel room door. Sun bathed the room with its powerful rays and it felt as if there was nowhere to hide, no intimacy, just a simple fuck, which after all she was here for, still a slight pretence of closeness never went amiss.
Careful not to tip the can full of sticky fluid over, she placed it on the coffee table next to the laptop and reached behind her, unzipping her light summer dress. She let it slide off her body and stepped out of, leaving it in a heap on the floor. Kicking off her shoes, she was ready. Pussy clean shaven, brand new red underwear from Victoria's Secret and her hair hanging loose to the mid of her back should be okay, she hoped.
Now that she had seen the man, she doubted herself more than ever. Again, she told herself off quietly. This was not a beauty pageant, so why the nervousness? She turned towards the bathroom in anticipation and was startled to realize that the man had been leaning against the doorframe for a while, carefully observing her.
"Take it all off, please." He said and she obeyed. 'So much for the sexy presentation', she thought and smiled at him sweetly. He undid his robe, but didn't take it off. Just as she expected, his body was strong and muscular, bronze tan was covering his entire skin, without any telltale signs of whiteness where the swimming trunks would normally block the sun. 'Very nice', she thought and almost gasped at the size of his cock.
It was fairly big, nothing out of the ordinary; what did make her eyes widen was the thickness of it. It could have easily compared to the size of her wrist, it appeared huge.
To her great relief, she noticed a condom in place, which she would have asked for had it not been there already. "Something wrong?" he asked and she noted a cynical smirk on his face. "No, of course not." she hurried and looked around the room. "Where do…" she began and started for the neatly made up bed.
"No, no…" he walked over to her. He grabbed her by the shoulder and his touch sent a gentle electric shock-type of sensation down her body, not at all unpleasant. "Over here." He pointed to the chair that stood next to the window, which looked out onto the Lake Michigan, giving an observer a breathtaking view of the city's North Shore, complete with parks, beaches and sailboats. "Just bend over." Keeping her eye on the beautiful view, she walked over to the chair and with a heavy heart bent over, placing the palms of her hands on the seat.
She felt very vulnerable like that, exposed to the mercy of a strange man, no matter how handsome and sophisticated he was. For a moment, she wished she was out there, on the beach, sponging the sun, rather than forcing her skin breaking out in goose bumps due to the very efficient air conditioning.
"Mmmm," said the man when she positioned herself as it was required. "Not a hair in sight, I like that." He said and looking over her shoulder, she gave him a weak smile. Still wearing his robe, he simply spread it open, grabbed his cock with one hand and with the other tapped her pussy.
She quietly cursed herself for not using the lubricant. Her insides must have been bone dry and the man didn't leave any room for a warm up. She saw him step closer and felt his thighs brushing against hers.
When he positioned his cock against her pussy she looked away, diverting her gaze onto the beach where she wanted to be. Grabbing her by the hips he pulled himself up and despite the dryness managed to enter her in one clean stroke. She gasped and almost cried out when the pain shot through her insides.
Despite his explanation that he was short on time, she had hoped that it wouldn't go quite this fast.
She would need but a minute to be ready for him, but now it was too late. She felt as if a baseball bat had been inserted inside of her, it seemed that big. She closed her eyes tight, trying not to whimper, but failed. Despite the discomfort however, his huge cock felt good inside her pussy and the whimper slowly changed into a moan, which again she tried to subdue.
She never showed any pleasure to the client, even though once before she almost reached an orgasm. "So," said the man, speaking casually as if he was grading the papers, not fucking a prostitute. "Let's start with a cliché, shall we?" "Mhm?" was all she managed. "What is a nice little girl like you doing fucking dirty old men like me?" he didn't sound as if he was catching his breath.
He didn't sound as if he was making any effort in fucking at all. "I…" she gasped again, trying to compose herself, holding onto the chair for dear life. "I need the money." The man gave out a raspy laughter.
"For school." She added as if this would soften his criticism somewhat. "Oh, don't worry." He said and continued to pump in and out slowly. "If I had a pussy, I'd be selling it for money, too. I don't hold it against you." 'Oh, that's a relief,' she smirked to herself. The man had an odd way of fucking, at least she thought so. Even though she couldn't see around her hips, she would have sworn that he didn't bury his entire cock inside of her.
It seemed as if only the huge head of it was inserted and he was moving it an inch in and an inch out, each time almost pulling out, but not quite. The sheer width of the cock made her wince each time he moved, but at the same time and this was the most unbelievable realization, she felt instantly turned on, feeling her pussy slowly lubricating itself, making it easier for the intruder to slide in and out, and giving her great pleasure.
It couldn't have been more than a minute of this kind of exercise and she felt her legs trembling in effort to keep her up, his big body keeping them apart at an uncomfortable angle.
The man still didn't voice any kind of pleasure, while Zoe began moaning loudly, somewhat ashamed. She didn't want him to know how much she enjoyed it, especially since she getting paid for it.
"You like that?" he asked and she turned around, facing him, stunned at how smooth and effort free his handsome face looked. "You got a big cock." She gasped and as if on a cue, he pushed in farther, making her voice a loud O. "I know." He laughed and Zoe became aware that it would take her just a few more of his strokes and she'd be squealing with pleasure, exactly as she hoped she wouldn't do. "I'm almost done, don't worry." He said and despite the coolness of his tone, she felt as if a hot flash had swept over her naked body.
The pumping became more intensified. He didn't go deeper, but sped up the pace and she could only do so much to keep herself in a bent over position and not falling over like a drunken fool.
"Oh, God…" she uttered, ceasing to care that this was just a job and it was not required of her to enjoy it. And enjoyed it, she did. Thoroughly. Even though at first it seemed like it was going to be one of those hard pressed things that would leave her sore for days. She looked down between her legs and saw his balls swinging, softly slapping the lips of her pussy. The muscles on his long legs were now bulging through his deeply tanned skin and she felt the grip of his fingers on her hips tighten.
She couldn't quite swear on it, but she thought she heard him let out a soft moan.
The head of his big cock was rubbing against the one spot inside her pussy most men tend to ignore and it drove her crazy. She grabbed the chair harder, worrying that she might break off her carefully manicured nails, but not really caring. "I'm just about to cum," he whispered and she felt the same was happening to her. This time, there was shortness of breath in his voice and she appreciated it. "Here it comes, here it comes, baby…" he said and as if those words had pushed her over the brink, she felt her pussy explode in waves of tingling pleasure, spreading down her legs and up her body, slamming inside her head and for a moment blinding her.
She heard a scream and it had taken her a moment to realize that it came out of her own throat. He pulled out of her and she heard an unmistakable slap of the latex as he freed his cock of the condom. A second later, she felt hot drops of his sperm hitting her ass cheeks and back. This time, he groaned like a laborer lifting a heavy piece of steel. Weak as she felt after the orgasm, which was stronger than any she had had in a long time, she almost fell over as he leaned his weight against her, rubbing her back gently.
"Okay!" he said and his voice was empty of any feeling or shortness of breath, which was evident only a moment ago. She felt him step away from her and something soft covered her body, making her jerk in surprise.
"Use my robe. Please, don't stain the carpet." He said and by the time she looked behind her he disappeared inside the bathroom. She heard the water running and his voice in a half yell. "I have a couple of bitchy meetings this week, do you think you'll be available?" She straightened up and wiped herself off with the snow-white bathrobe. Her back was hurting as if she had just been picking up strawberries for hours, a backbreaking work that she became familiar with in childhood.
"Yeah, sure." She yelled back and began looking for her clothes. "Good." He said and she heard the glass shower door slide. "I'll call the agency, then." She wanted to say something. Anything. She wanted to let him know that despite this being a job like all the rest, it was still a bit more special. "You can let yourself out." He said and she clicked her tongue. 'Nope. Just a job like any other.'