Infatuation

by Jade Taylor

  “Did Katriona tell you what I like?”

  “No,” I told him, suddenly worried that she’d set me up, that he’d want something really kinky, that she wanted to see me mess this up.

  But I was determined not to.

  “Come, lie here.” He pulled me over so I was in the middle of the bed, then sat between my legs. “I want to see you touch yourself.”

  Now I could see him getting harder, and I squirmed beneath his gaze, his eyes hot on my bare cunt. I started caressing my side, my stomach, my thighs, but he was having none of that, and pulled my hands down to my cunt.

  “Stop that,” he instructed me, his hand sliding between my lips, “You are wet enough. Show me.” I opened myself up to him, feeling my clit become exposed, feeling his eyes upon me.

  I looked at his cock, completely hard now.

  As I started touching myself I saw his hand go to his cock, slowly rubbing it. Although Katriona had mentioned faking I didn’t see it being a problem for me.

  My fingers were slick with my juices as I teased my clit, and I couldn’t help but moan as I slid a finger inside me, and he moaned his encouragement.

  One of my hands moved to my breasts, to pinch my nipples, but he grabbed my wrist hard and moved my hand back to my cunt.

  “No,” he told me harshly, holding my hand in place with his free hand as he continued wanking before me.

  I’d never seen a man wank before.

  His hand was quicker than my hand would be, holding his cock firmly, and I could see the strain on his face as he grew closer to orgasm.

  I wanted to suck him off, but every time I tried to move he pushed me back down, forcing me to continue touching myself.

  I couldn’t believe the situation, and as his eyes met mine I knew I was going to come.

  I could feel myself getting slicker, see how fast his hand was moving over his cock, see his look of fierce concentration, and I couldn’t take it anymore.

  I came hard.

  He watched me, studying my face for signs I’m faking, watched me as I shook beneath my touch, wishing he would fuck me instead of this stupid game.

  Instead I watched him come, his spunk falling across my stomach.

  He stood and threw a towel at me, then headed for the bathroom.

  “Leave now,” he called back, and I hurriedly wiped myself off and dressed quickly.

  I couldn’t go straight back down to her, couldn’t bear seeing her face, explaining to her what happened, and so I headed for the ladies toilets, straightening my clothes and tidying myself up, quickly reapplying the make-up to my flushed face.

  How did she do this?

  It felt so weird, that my life had changed somehow, that although I hadn’t done anything I didn’t want to and knew I was in control, that somehow despite that I’ve shown Patrick something so personal that I can never take back.

  I opened my bag and quickly counted the money.

  It was almost more than I earned in a month.

  I went back to the bar, back to her, wanting more than money, wanting her approval.

  She was sat in exactly the same position, still smoking, my drink still waiting, so confident I would return.

  I sat down, wanting so badly to drain my drink, but still so worried what she would think of me, not wanting her to call me scared.

  “Okay?” she asked, her voice teasing and her eyebrow raised.

  “Of course,” I lied, as if I let men watch me with me masturbate every day, as if taking money for something so personal were nothing.

  She passed me my drink, and I drained it as if she had given me permission.

  I felt like I would do whatever she asked.

  It felt almost like love, whatever it was between us, but even then I knew that it is something oh-so-much darker.

  “So what’s his deal?” I asked innocently, wishing she would touch me, wishing her hands could calm the turmoil inside.

  “He’s lonely, what can I say? He travels a lot, but he’s married, and thinks that this doesn’t count as infidelity. It’s like he thinks if he doesn’t touch then it doesn’t count.”

  I don’t tell her that he touched me.

  “So you were okay?” she asked again, and for a second it seemed her guard was dropped, her voice softer as she places her hand on mine.

  “I was fine,” I laughed, all bravado now it was over, not thinking about how the hell I was going to face Craig later, how I was going to feel the next time he touched me. “No big deal.”

  She laughed at me. “I suppose he is an easy one to start with.”

  “I’m not starting,” I told her; I had no idea what that was but it definitely a one-off.

  “I could find you more men,” she told me, blowing smoke rings at my sudden cowardice.

  “That was enough.” I tried to laugh, but it sounded hollow even to me. “I guess that makes you my pimp.”

  She turned hard suddenly again, her eyes cold as she replied, “Then you owe me twenty per cent.”

  I was chilled; how could she change so quickly?

  “Take it all,” I told her, throwing the envelope down, not giving a shit as the money scattered across the table.

  If that was all she cared about then she could pick it up.

  Chapter Three

  I knew that I shouldn’t go back.

  It was obvious enough, she wasn’t the proverbial tart with a heart; she was just a tart.

  I couldn’t ever be friends with her, let alone anything else.

  And I didn’t want to be just friends.

  So I knew I should walk away. That would have been the sensible option.

  But that just wasn’t me.

  I managed eight weeks, and counted every day.

  She saw me as soon as I walked into the bar, her eyes widening in surprise as she chose to ignore me and turned back to her companion.

  She was dressed very smartly, matching the professional appearance of her companion.

  Her client.

  He must have been mid-fifties, old, too old, to be with her. He looked like the kind of man that if I’d been nearer I’d have seen his nasal hair, the kind of man who’d now reached the age when he was losing the hair on his head and it was start starting to sprout in other stranger places.

  He was so pink too, like a newborn, and I couldn’t understand how she could tolerate having his burnt-looking hands so close to her alabaster perfection.

  How she could stand to think of him panting above her, the awful vision of his old wrinkled dick pushing inside her, his wet breath on her face?

  Apart from the money.

  But that night I had plenty of money.

  All the time I’d been trying to stay away, all the time I’d been avoiding Craig, so afraid that his touch would make me think of her and prove him wanting, that his affection would remind me of my betrayal, I’d been working overtime.

  And now I was ready.

  I went to the bar, ignoring the barman looking at me, and ordered a vodka.

  She had noticed me, I was sure, as soon as I walked in the room, but as I watched her in the mirror behind the bar she made sure not to look in my direction.

  I turned on my bar stool, watching her more obviously now.

  “Jenni!” she exclaimed, finally and begrudgingly meeting my gaze. “I haven’t seen you in forever! How are you?”

  Her companion looked confused, and I knew my expression was not one of someone bumping into a long lost friend, but he put on a tolerant smile and went with her charade.

  She turned to him, “I was just going to go freshen up, Jenni do you want to catch up with me while I do?”

  I nodded, sliding from the bar stool, wondering what she wanted to say while he wasn’t listening.


  She kept her smile on until we entered the very posh toilets, then roughly shoved me up against the wall.

  “What the hell are you doing? You can’t just come here and glare at my clients!”

  I stood still, shaking, scared at her outburst.

  She seemed to calm down somewhat as she pulled away from me, and slumped against the wall.

  “I don’t know what you want from me,” she sighed.

  The money felt heavy in my handbag, but I knew that if I took it out I would never see her again.

  I couldn’t take that thought.

  So I did what I always had to do with her; I lied.

  “I want to work for you,” I said, figuring that was the only way I could be closer to her.

  “Why?” she asked, obviously not believing me.

  “Some excitement,” I told her. “My life is boring, and you make me excited.” That at least was true.

  “Ride a roller coaster,” she teased, but she seemed less angry. “Watch some horror films.”

  A woman walked in to the toilets, and Kat shot her a look which instantly made her turn around and walk away.

  I smiled at her.

  “So what films do you like?” I asked, desperate to know more about her, something real I could take home with me.

  “Black and white films,” she said, and I smiled; the first time I’d seen her I remembered how I thought how much she reminded me of a heroine from one.

  “Casablanca, An Affair To Remember, Moulin Rouge.”

  I said nothing about the obvious comparison between her and Satine.

  “You like tragic romances then?” I asked.

  “All romance is tragic,” she said flippantly.

  I pushed.

  “Why? What’s wrong with believing in happy ever after?”

  She laughed wryly. “What’s happy ever after? Getting a mortgage and a cat?”

  I noticed she didn’t say the usual 2.4 kids, but didn’t want to ask why; again something told me that was somewhere I shouldn’t go, that if I did the conversation would soon be shut down.

  A conversation with Kat felt like walking a tightrope at times.

  “Why not?”

  “Life’s not like that,” she said sadly. “But it’s nice that you believe it can be.”

  She stroked my hair affectionately.

  “Nice?” I repeated, offended; it seemed so patronising.

  “Yes,” she said. “Nice. You’re nice.” She leant over and kissed me, long and slow, her hands around my waist and pulling me closer.

  She made me lose my breath.

  She pulled away once more. “I like you. You can work for me if you’re sure about it. Give me your number.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure,” I agreed as she handed me her phone and I quickly put in my details. I then started back-tracking almost immediately. “Some fun ones though.”

  She laughed. “You mean not like that guy outside.”

  I grimaced at the thought of fucking him.

  “He’s not that bad,” she said seriously. “He’s just lonely and crap at talking to women. If he talked to women the way he talked to me he’d have them all falling at his feet, but he worries about his looks, he loses his confidence, and he can’t talk to women at all.”

  She stroked my hair once more. “You shouldn’t be so judgemental; your house of bricks is rapidly becoming a house made of glass.”

  Kat walked, away, leaving me deflated.

  This was not how I’d planned for the evening to go, but then, with Kat, nothing ever worked out the way I planned.

  I went back to the bar, but she wasn’t there, so I sat for a while, watching the crowd, nursing another vodka.

  When I got home Craig was already in bed. Silently I crawled into bed next to him, thinking he was asleep.

  When he rolled over to sleepily spoon me I didn’t protest for once; it was good to have someone holding me.

  I felt his cock harden but he didn’t make a move, obviously worrying about being rejected again.

  I pushed my bum against him, rubbing against him, hearing him sigh.

  “Jenni,” he said, and moved as if to roll me over to face him.

  But I didn’t want to look at him, I wanted him to hold me, to comfort me, but if I had to look at him the guilt would be too much to bear.

  “Kiss my neck,” I told him, and he moved back to kiss the back of my neck and my shoulders.

  I remembered how we used to be together as he pulled down my pants, and started stroking my bum.

  He’d always had a thing about my bum, sometimes more than my boobs.

  His hand moved lower, and, finding me wet already, he slid his cock inside me.

  This was how it used to be; my pants around my knees and us both half asleep, his cock slow and steady, his calm rhythm driving me wild with anticipation as my orgasm built.

  I moved back against him, trying to make him go faster, but he held his pace.

  It almost felt like making love.

  Slowly I felt the tingle between my legs grow stronger, his cock steadily rubbing against my G-spot, keeping his rhythm even as I moaned at him to go harder, faster.

  I shook as I came.

  He came seconds later, holding me tight.

  “Don’t,” I said as he went to move away, to clean up, his cock already softening inside me. “Just stay like this a little longer.”

  “Okay,” he said, kissing my hair. “Okay.”

  We fell asleep like that, and for the first time in a long time, my dreams we not filled with Kat.

  Chapter Four

  “I have a new client for you.”

  We were in the disabled toilet at the hotel; she had text me the day before to tell me what time to be there and I hadn’t even questioned it.

  She knelt down in front of me and lifted my skirt.

  “He might be a little difficult.”

  I swallowed, not sure if the lump in my throat and my heart beating faster as the thought of the difficult client or her face being so close to my cunt that I could feel her breath upon me.

  “You don’t have to do this,” she told me as her hands slid up my legs to hook around the sides of my new lace thong.

  “You can always change your mind,” she told me, as she slowly pulled my underwear down.

  I don’t know what it was about her, but I was wet already.

  “No, I want to,” I replied lifting my feet up so she could take my thong off, so eagerly trying to impress.

  “Okay,” she said, quickly standing up, all business now. She reached into her bag and squirted something from a spray bottle on her finger, then, quickly parting my legs, she rubbed it on my cunt.

  There’s no need, I wanted to tell her, thinking it was lube, I don’t need any after you taking off my panties, after seeing you on your knees before me, face so close to my clit.

  But I said nothing, the moment had passed.

  “He’s on room 109, here’s the key.” I took it dumbly. “Come find me afterwards, I’m in Suite 276.”

  For a moment I wondered why, if she had a suite, we were doing this in a public toilet, but I didn’t have time to question her as she quickly unlocked the door and walked away.

  I stumbled out as if I’d been in a darkened room and the light was blinding my eyes.

  As I walked away I realised I was almost uncomfortably turned on. I walked through the hotel lobby slowly, surrounded by people in classy dresses and full on suits, all dressed up for a respectable night out, and just the sensation of walking was making my clit throb so urgently I wanted to pull my skirt up again and touch myself right there and then.

  What the fuck had she put on me?

  I pretended to be pr
ofessional, focus on the lift, on getting to the room, to focus on thinking about the difficult client who was going to get the best fuck he’s ever had, paid for or not.

  I opened the door soundlessly and stepped into the barely lit room, closing it discretely behind me.

  I walked to the bedroom and found the client lying naked on the bed, already stroking his impressive erection.

  It was Mikey, the moron from the first night I had met Kat.

  He smiled at my obvious shock.

  “She didn’t tell you? How rude.”

  It was, but I didn’t care. My clit was tingling and I needed a release, and though it was obvious he expected me to flounce out in disgust or start some sort of argument, that was the last thing on my mind.

  He was fit, handsome and hard, and if he’d have just shut the fuck up, he’d have been damn near enough perfect.

  I slowly pulled up my skirt, and now it was his turn to look surprised. He evidently didn’t need me to put on a show to get him going, but that was not my intent anyway.

  I just needed to touch myself.

  I slid my finger between swollen lips, and watched as the hand tightly fisted around his cock slowed as he watched me stroke my clit. I was slick and swollen and I knew he could see my juices on my fingers, even i the half light.

  Already my fingers were moving faster, my head full of fantasies, full of the thought of how Kat removed my panties, her touching me with whatever magical cream she had used and I was close to coming already.

  “I’m not paying to watch some whore having a wank!” he spluttered, sounding laughably indignant even though his hand still kept moving around his cock.

  “So stop me,” I told him.

  He was up and off the bed quicker than I had expected, and just as quickly pushed me back onto it. Then my wrists were pinned above me as he ripped open my shirt. Just as roughly he pulled at my bra, tugging hard until my breasts were bare. He was breathing hard, and even though I felt like I should be mad at him for treating me that way, I wasn’t.

  Being so rough had just made me even more turned on.

  Then his hand went to my breasts, squeezing them with no thought to how I felt, pinching my nipples so that I cried out in a mixture of pleasure and pain. I should tell him to stop, I thought, before this goes too far, before I relinquished all pretence of any control.