The Sex Surrogate

by Gadziala, Jessica

  “But I want to,” I said, pushing up and looking down at him.

  “Fuck me,” he said, bringing a hand up to the side of my face for a second. “You're perfect just how you are, okay? Don't let anyone try to convince you otherwise.” He paused. “Not even yourself.”

  Oh, the flood of warm and gushy that filled my chest and belly sure felt real right then.

  I gave him a small smile, leaning and pressing my lips to his, then putting my leg on the other side of his body to straddle him so I could kiss my way down like I had been thinking of doing. “Wait,” he said, grabbing me. “Let a man enjoy the view for a second,” he said, smiling. His hands moved up my belly, over my ribs, then gently covered my breasts, running his thumbs over my nipples. “Perfect,” he said again.

  I slid down his body, going down onto my forearms as I kissed his neck, between his pecs, down the center of his abdominals, the muscles jerking slightly underneath the contact. Chase reached down, taking my hair and brushing it toward one side of my head, then holding it in his hand, not pulling, just keeping it out of the way so he could watch. My mouth reached his waistband and I pushed myself up to balance on my knees as I worked his belt off, then unfastened his slacks. My hands went underneath the waistband of them and his underwear, pulling up and downward until they slid and revealed what I was looking for.

  Up close, it somehow managed to be just as perfect as I had thought. Thick, long, smooth.

  “Ava...”

  “Let a woman enjoy the view for a second,” I said, smiling, and was rewarded by a long, appreciative laugh.

  My hand reached out, taking his length and stroking down to the base, pulling him upward toward my mouth.

  This was new.

  Not in the way that I had never given oral sex before, but in the method. Usually (and I guess it said a lot of the guys I dated), I was freaking out. So they just... took over. They held the back of my neck hard and just... slammed their cocks into my throat. No finesse. No desire to please them. Just being used.

  This wasn't that.

  This was me wanting to taste him. To hear his groans. This was me wanting to know what he tasted like, just as he wanted to know how I tasted. This was just as much for my pleasure as it was for his.

  And that made me feel powerful.

  And it was new and exciting.

  I leaned forward, stroking my tongue over the smooth head, his hand pulling involuntarily at my hair. Encouraged, I closed my mouth around him, stroking slowly downward, taking my time to get to know every solid inch of him. I felt my gag reflex object, swallowing against it, letting it settle, and moving further down. Until I felt him press up hard against the back of my throat.

  “Holy... fuck... Ava...”

  I let my eyes drift upward, finding his and he exhaled his breath sharply. Watching him, I moved slowly back upward, sucking hard, then running my tongue over the head again. His mouth parted, cursing under his breath, watching me so intensely that I knew I was doing a pretty damn good job. I starting moving up and down, faster, sucking harder, twisting my mouth around, letting his cock hit my throat at every downward stroke. My hand slipped away, unneeded, and stroked gently over his balls.

  I could have done it forever. Despite the neck ache, despite the sore jaw. I would have happily sucked him into the next year, listening to his breathing get more and more ragged, watching his eyes close, then open because he didn't want to miss the show, feeling his hand dig into my neck, hard enough for there to be marks in the morning. I was so absorbed in him and his desire that there was nothing else in the world.

  “Ava...” his voice held a warning. “I'm gonna come, if you don't want...”

  But I did want.

  Oh, how I wanted.

  I flicked my tongue over the head quickly then took him to the hilt and he came hard, his body going rigid, his hand grabbing my neck, the other one slamming down on the top of my head. The taste of his desire filled my mouth and I swallowed greedily until there was nothing left. I held him deep for a moment, then moved ever so slowly back upward, sucking at the tip, then kissing my way back up toward his neck.

  His hands reached out to stop me from scooting to my favorite spot, cradling my face and pulling it up. “Ava...”

  “I did good, didn't I?” I asked, a proud smile toying at my lips.

  “No, baby,” he said, shaking his head. “Sweet, sweet girl. That wasn't good. That was fucking phenomenal,” he said, stroking my cheeks, running his finger over my lips. Like he couldn't get enough of touching me.

  There was a swelling in my chest, strong, unmistakable. Even if someone had ever felt it before, they knew it when it happened. A warmth, a fullness. Foreign yet somehow familiar. Love. It was love. I was sooooo in fake love with Dr. Chase Hudson.

  But it didn't feel fake.

  And I wasn't going to ruin it.

  So I moved to lay in the center of his chest, next to the heart I felt so attached to, my legs on the outer side of his, and just... drifted into the feeling.

  His arms went tight around me. And we both were just... there. Awake. Lost in our own thoughts, holding onto one another like it would be the last time.

  Eventually, I fell asleep.

  I woke up later to Chase's hands swatting my ass. That was my wake-up call. I started, pushing up off his chest with sleepy eyes. “What?” I grumbled.

  “Nothin',” he said, looking almost... coy. “I just wanted you to wake up.”

  “What for?”

  The slow growing devilish grin made me wish I hadn't asked.

  “I'm going to taste you again,” he said casually, but the grin didn't go away.

  “Why do I feel like there's a hitch?”

  “This time you're going to ride my face.”

  Oh, hell no.

  No.

  That just didn't even sound sexy.

  “And at the same time you're going to suck my cock again.”

  Well, that made it moderately better.

  “Chase...”

  “You don't like it, we stop. No questions asked. Let's give it a try, okay?”

  Was it really even possible to say no to him?

  “Okay.”

  “Alright,” he said, scooting down on the bed a little. “Why don't you turn and straddle me. Get started. I get the feeling you'd be more comfortable with that.”

  “Yeah.”

  So then I swiveled, straddling him facing his feet, letting him guide my legs back until I was where he wanted me (and trying really, really hard to not think what he was face to face with. His hands went on my hips and I quickly leaned down and started to take him in my mouth. It wasn't long until his hands pressed me down and I felt his tongue find my clit.

  And any original objections to the position flew away.

  I was shrugging back into my clothes later. A lot later. Sometime after two AM. Chase was back in his slacks and was in the process of buttoning his shirt.

  “I need to see you tomorrow.”

  “What?” I asked, sure I misheard him.

  “For the next session. Tomorrow.”

  Right. Session. Because I was a client.

  Back to the real world, Ava.

  And also...

  holy

  fuck.

  The next session was the sixth session.

  The sixth session was the sex session.

  He was going to be inside me.

  I felt my head shaking.

  “No?” he asked, brows drawing together. “Why? What's the matter? Are you nervous? Because we should talk about it then, babe.”

  “No... I, ah, I have plans to go out with a coworker. Shay,” I added, not knowing why I needed to make it clear she was female. “She's been pestering me and I finally agreed.”

  “That's great, baby,” he said, but looked almost... disappointed? “Okay. Monday night. At seven.”

  Monday at seven. Okay. No need to freak out. Yeah
, that was a joke. I was gonna freak.

  After the Session

  Alright. Went to bed. Tried not to freak out. Woke up, tried again. Showered, dressed, left the house. Tried again. All day at work, I kept freaking trying.

  And it didn't work.

  It was going to be the longest weekend of my life.

  But, I reminded myself as I showered and prepared some dinner, I was going out. I was going to get a distraction that would, hopefully, pull me out of my anxiety fueled funk. Hell, I was going to drink until I forgot about if that needed to happen.

  “Are you eating a salad?” Jake asked, crossing his arms over his, yet again, bare chest.

  “Are you scoffing at me? You're the one always picking at me to eat better.”

  “Yeah, on a day to day basis, not before a night out.”

  “What the hell difference does it make?”

  “Oh, my poor poor nightlife virgin,” he said, shaking his head, moving to take my salad bowl and put it in the fridge.

  “How about tell me what you mean without being so condescending?”

  “You need to put something in your stomach for the booze to settle on. Hamburgers. Fries. Pizza. Something greasy and filling. I know you. You'll be on your ass after two drinks if you go in on an empty stomach.”

  He wasn't wrong. I had a twelve year old's tolerance for alcohol. Two drinks and I was super buzzed. Three and I was on the verge of being a mess. Four... I was home in bed because I could never get past four.

  “Alright. How about you order food?” I suggested, shrugging. “Use my credit card. I am going to go dry my hair. Shay should be here in like... half an hour.”

  When I walked out of the bathroom, the kitchen counter was full of food. And I mean full. Like he intended to feed an entire freaking high school football team instead of two people.

  “What is...” the knock at the door interrupted me and I rushed over to answer it.

  In rushed Shay, her face bare for the first time since I had known her, dressed in a loose t-shirt and leggings. She had an enormous makeup kit in one hand, a yellow food store bag hanging off her wrist, and four dresses in her other hand.

  “Oh, is that grease?” she asked, pushing in like she had been in my apartment a hundred times before. “Good thinking. We need some lining... oh,” she said, spotting Jake. “Well... hello,” she said in the most overtly flirtatious tone possible.

  “Don't bother,” I said, taking the dresses from her and draping them across the back of the couch, “he's pretty but he's an asshole.”

  “Oh, girl, but those are the best kind of men. I'm Shay,” she said, walking over to him. “Nice adonis belt.”

  “You should see what's below it.”

  Oh my god.

  They were not flirting.

  That was only going to end in violent, awful flames.

  “All talk,” Shay said, smirking.

  “You want a little preview?” he asked, reaching for his waistband.

  “Regardless of what she may want, there will be no nudity in my kitchen,” I said, shaking my head at them.

  “You're literally being a cock block right now,” Jake complained.

  “Don't worry. Shay will be here for a while. You can flash her when I'm not looking,” I said, going to the bags of food. “So what did you get?”

  “Everything,” Jake said, shrugging. “Burgers, fries, mozzarella sticks, onion rings, fried chicken...”

  “I'm not gonna be able to fit in any of those dresses,” I complained, reaching for plates.

  “Better a little bloated than passed out on a bar floor,” Jake said and I silently agreed.

  We ate for a long time, Shay insisting it would be absolutely ridiculous to show up at a club before ten anyway. Then she dragged me into the bathroom, laying out makeup and hair products all over the sink counter, taking out a straightening iron and leaving it to heat up in the sink. “Not for me, obviously,” she said, gesturing toward her dreadlocks. “I want to see what your hair looks like real straight.”

  I dragged a stool from the kitchen and sat down. “Alright, do what you will,” I told her, closing my eyes slightly.

  Apparently, what Shay “willed” took over an hour and a half of primping. My hair was straightened, then straightened again, then a third time just to make sure. My face was dabbed, patted, brushed with... god knew what. My eyelashes were curled then had endless coats of mascara applied. Lipstick was put on, blotted, then taken off to try a different shade.

  “Alright,” she said, stepping back, the tube of lipstick in one hand, the top in the other. She squinted at me. “Yeah,” she nodded, smiling slowly. “That's good.”

  “Let me look...” I started to say, getting off my seat which had been killing my ass for the last half hour.

  “No,” she said, pushing my shoulder back down. “You don't get to see until you are dressed.

  “Fine,” I grumbled, sitting back down. “What about your makeup?”

  “Oh, yeah, give me five,” she said, turning to the mirror.

  Then she literally took five minutes. Five. After all she put me through. She applied a little powder, lined her eyes, and put on a coat of lip gloss and she was done. Flawless as per usual.

  She grabbed the dresses off the door, finding the one she wanted: a bright eye-grabbing red number, sleeveless, skin tight, short, with a visible zipper running up one side. She confidently stripped out of her clothes, standing in front of me in her thong and strapless bra for a long moment before slipping into her dress. And she was nothing short of billboard worthy.

  “Okay, I brought a few for you, but I know the one you should wear. Now,” she said, her voice getting serious, turning down the music like what she was about to say was super important, “I know you usually have a very... um... conservative style. So you are just going to have to take a deep breath, put on your big girl panties, and get over it. Though,” she said, grabbing the dress, “You're probably better going panty-less in this.”

  “That's not gonna happen.”

  She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Get your clothes off.”

  Oh. So I wasn't going to get to change in private. Well, okay. I mean... I could do it. She did it. I tried not to think that she did it because she was literally perfect as I reached to take of my shirt and pants.

  “Okay, thong works,” she said, nodding at my near-nudity. “Okay, I want to be surprised,” she said, handing me the dress and clapping her hands. “I know it's going to be perfect, but I want to see the big reveal so I am going to wait in the living room. Be careful not to get your makeup on it,” she warned and was out the door.

  I looked at the dress. It was electric blue and looked like it was going to fit like a second skin. Two small straps. The bust slightly scalloped so that it would dip a bit between my breasts. I turned it, finding a huge cut out in the shape of heart in the back. So, apparently, I wasn't allowed to wear normal panties... or a bra.

  I took a deep breath, deciding to try to go with the flow, taking off my bra, and sliding in. Luckily, there was a small shelf bra inside, providing a bit of support and keeping my nipples out of sight. I shimmied the dress up, slipping the straps into place, finding the hem didn't even come half way down my thigh.

  I took a deep breath, moving the remaining dresses off the back of the door so I could get a look in the full-length mirror attached to it.

  And... damn.

  I wasn't one for vanity (in fact, it was usually crushing insecurity), but Shay had worked fucking magic. My hair fell in straight sheets around my shoulders. And the makeup that seemed like it was going to be caked-on and over the top, was actually pretty understated. My lids had cat-eye liner, my lashes darkened to make them pop, a tiny bit of pink to my pale cheeks, and some bright red lipstick.

  The dress looked great, hugging of bust and hip, making them the highlights, rouching slightly so you couldn't see every movement of skin underneath.

&
nbsp; “I'm growing old out here,” Shay called and I shook my head, turning off the straightener, squirting a spray of the perfume Jake had bought me over my chest, and opening the door.

  “Daaaaammn,” Shay said, smiling and nodding.

  “Holy fuck, Ava, that you?” Jake asked, walking to stand next to Shay, fully dressed in slacks and a button-up.

  “Why are you dressed?” I asked, suspicious.

  “I'm coming with.”

  “Oh, like hell...”

  “Hey,” he said, holding up a hand. “I was told that if I am in your life and I care about you, I have to do better. So I think that means being a chaperone to make sure you don't get stupid drunk and go home with some sleezebag.”

  “Oh, bullshit. You just want to convince Shay to come back here with you.”

  “Yeah, well, that too...”

  “You're impossible.”

  “Hey it works out better,” Shay insisted, grabbing her purse and pulling out two wallets, one small and one normal. She took out cash, and ID, a condom, and two sticks of gum from the big one and put them in the small one. “He can hold our wallets,” she said, handing hers to him and he easily tucked it in his pocket.

  “Fine,” I said, going to find something small to put my stuff in. Minus the condom. Add in a single serve packet of aspirin. “We ready?” I asked, reaching for a coat.

  “No coats,” Shay and Jake said at the same time.

  “It's cold out!” I objected. “I don't want to stand in line in the middle of fall in glorified underwear.

  “Oh, honey,” Shay said, shaking her head, “we won't be waiting on any lines.”

  And we didn't. As soon as we got out of the cab, Shay grabbed my hand and pulled me to the door, giving the security guard a soul sucking smile... and in we went. They didn't even bother to check out Ids.

  “First is first,” Jake declared, a hand at each of our backs, guiding us toward the bar. “Drinks.”

  And then I was plied with liquor.

  The night was a bit of a blur after the first two drinks. A shot (Jake insisted we take before anything else, toasting to a good night), then a martini. Jake disappeared and Shay dragged me to the dance floor, promising to keep the creeps away.