by Rylee Swann
I think I’m about to find out if it really is possible to die of embarrassment.
Does he know what’s going on? Can he see? Is he as shocked as I am? It’s not like this is some dark and seedy bar. It’s an expensive four-star hotel.
Michael pushes aside my hand, the one that tried to stop him from groping me, as the bartender pops open Michael’s beer and pours me a fresh glass. He places new napkins in front of us and sets the drinks down. He then takes the check and makes a notation on it. Just when I think he’s finally leaving, he grabs a bowl and pours some peanuts into it.
Kill me now. Is he stalling because he wants to watch?
Michael is thrusting harder now, tracing the outline of my clit with his fingers even as he takes my drink and holds it to my lips. I make a little gurgling sound in my throat as I take a sip, Michael’s fingers even more insistent as they probe me, and he lowers his face to my neck and nuzzles there.
I close my eyes to the sensations. I’m letting him do this to me. It’s my choice. I could stop him at any time. It’s not just about wanting… needing the job. I’m thriving on his touch. I’ve forgotten about who might be able to see what’s going on. I don’t want him to stop.
And that’s when he stops.
Leans back in his stool and smiles at me.
My eyes pop open, and I try to get my mouth working enough to ask him to continue, but he stops me with a question.
“Let’s go into the dining room, shall we?”
I nod dumbly as his lip curls into a smirk. He knows very well what effect he’s had on me.
He stands, and I follow suit, looking to him to lead the way, but he’s not finished with me. He takes my hand and guides it to his cock, pressing it against his steel length. It’s big, and it’s stiff, and it’s throbbing with need. For me.
He takes his hand away, leaving mine alone on his shaft, watching me closely. Waiting to see what I’ll do.
If they weren’t before, I know people must be looking at us now. We’ve just stood up, which is an attention getter in itself, but now we’re just standing here, unmoving. They must be wondering, watching, catching on.
Seconds tick by before I run my hand down his rigid length. Just once, then I snatch my hand back and step away.
He laughs and reaches again for my hand, and I balk until I realize that he’s seriously planning on leading me to the restaurant. Which is a blessing and a curse.
I’m suddenly famished. And not just for food.
CHAPTER 3
“Did you enjoy that?” Michael asks as he holds out my chair.
“I ummm… I don’t know.”
He sits across from me, and I notice his small frown. “That’s a lazy answer. It’s an important question. Did you enjoy it?”
What does he want from me? This is the worst job interview ever.
“It was embarrassing,” I confess, my hands twisting together.
He nods and waits for me to continue.
“But it was also… I don’t know. A bit of a thrill.” I feel my face heating with this admission.
“Good.” He nods again. “Would you do something for me?” It’s my turn to nod. “Stand up.”
My legs shake as I stand. I look around the dining room. Almost all the tables are filled, and the wait staff bustles around, taking orders, and delivering delicacies. One entire side of the room is made up of windows that overlook the boardwalk. It’s also crowded with people taking advantage of a lovely spring evening.
He crooks a finger at me. “Come here.” On stiff legs, I walk around the table to him and lick my dry lips, fearful of what he’ll ask next. He looks up into my eyes and holds his gaze steady with mine. “Rub my cock.”
I stare at him, my mouth dropping open. “Are you serious?” He hadn’t whispered, and I’m dying inside, wondering how many people heard what he said.
He reaches up and caresses my cheek, and I know I still want him. I can’t deny the attraction. His slightest touch sucks all the oxygen from the room, and I wish for a moment that we are back at the bar so he can continue his wicked fondling of me.
“If you can’t do this then there’s no point in moving on to the next stage of this interview.”
I force myself not to look around. I don’t want to know how many people are watching. It’s like not looking down when you’re climbing a mountain.
With a pretense of whispering in his ear, I bend down and rest my hand on his chest. Very slowly, I slide it down until I’m cupping him. He twitches, and I almost pull back, but I haven’t rubbed it yet. He told me to rub.
And I want to.
I want to sink to my knees and take him into my mouth before straddling his lap and connecting our bodies. I want to ride him until the longing he’s created inside me is satisfied.
That scares me. Who am I?
I’m apparently a girl who runs her hand down a stranger’s lap, watching the hard lines of his face soften as he makes a low, pleased sound in the back of his throat. Emboldened, I do it once more before taking my hand away.
I watch him swallow and collect himself, shifting in his seat.
He motions for me to retake my seat, and I gladly do, sinking into it and wondering if I could disappear beneath the table. “You never told me your name.”
“Is Michael your real name?” I ask by way of replying.
He laughs. “Tell me your name, truth or lie.” He leans in. “When we’re in the throes of passion, I need something to call out.” He looks at me, waiting, that pleased little cocky smile plastered on his face again.
“I don’t know a thing about you.”
“And I already know a great deal about you… except for your name. C’mon, give.”
“What do you know about me?” Anything to steer the conversation away from my name. I don’t know why giving it to Michael is such a big deal, but it is.
“Alright, alright.” He raises his hands in mock defeat. “I’ll play along with you… for now.” Again he gives me that appraising up and down stare. I glance down at myself to make sure I’m still dressed. I don’t feel like I am.
A waitress arrives, and we order. The meals are expensive. Everything on the menu is expensive.
When she’s gone, Michael continues. “You need money. That makes you unemployed.” I nod and motion for him to continue. “You’re divorced. You’ve had your heart broken. Recently. You look much younger than you are, so I’d put you at thirty-five, forty.”
I stare at him in open-mouthed bafflement. He laughs and reaches out with a finger and places it under my chin to help me close it back up. “How… how’d you do that?”
“How old are you? Was I close?”
“I’m thirty-seven. Close enough. How’d you do that? How’d you know?”
He shrugs. “I can read people. It’s a gift. Now. Your name?”
I bat my eyelashes at him. “You can’t divine it from thin air?”
“And you’re still playing hard to get? This is starting to weary me.”
“Kim,” I blurt out quickly. A game is a game, but I don’t want him to lose interest.
“Kim,” he repeats. “Good. Let’s enjoy our meal.”
The salad arrives, and I stab a tomato with my fork. Michael says little during this course; it’s almost like he’s trying to make me uncomfortable. Eating isn’t very glamorous, and I get that he’s giving me the voyeur experience, staring at me while I shove the first food besides toxic noodles in my face.
Thankfully, when the main course arrives, he starts to loosen up and talk. The small talk is innocuous, and I get the feeling that on Michael’s part, it’s practiced. I wonder how many interviews he’s already held.
“Was I the first to answer your ad?”
Do I really want to know? This just leaves it open for him to compare me to others.
“No,” he says. “There have been others before you.”
I don’t know if he means other interviews or others that he’s hired, but this time I ke
ep my mouth shut and don’t ask for details.
“Are you, ummm… safe?” I laugh a bit in embarrassment. “I mean…”
“It’s alright, Kim, I know what you mean. Yes, I’m safe. I’m not here to rape you or harm you in any way. I’m sizing you up for a legitimate job that will pay well if I hire you. It’s not exactly a job that you can write home about, but I can promise you a lot of fun.”
I chew my bottom lip, wondering how honest men who pay women for kinky fun are.
He laughs, reading my mind. “There’s no way to know if I’m telling the truth except to go through with it, correct?”
I laugh a little too. “Yeah.”
He sets his fork down and leans forward to look at me intently. “Is this interview finished?”
“No, no!” I answer without hesitation, and in that moment, I know he’s won me over. I want the job. If he’s another Craig’s List Killer, I’ve made a very poor decision.
He smiles. “Are you finished with your meal?”
I look down at my almost empty plate. I ate too much, especially for someone who needs to lose at least twenty pounds. I wipe my mouth with a cloth napkin and nod. “Yes. It was delicious. Thank you.”
“Good. Then let’s go upstairs and fuck. What do you say?”
My mouth drops open as I fumble for words. This time, I’m saved by someone who stops next to our table. “She’s a winner, man. A little on the chubby side but look at those tits.”
What the hell? I turn in my seat to see the runner up in the pick-Michael-out-from-the-crowd contest earlier. The one with the Lacoste polo shirt.
“I did.” Michael chuckles and looks at me. “This is Jack, a friend of mine. He’ll be the first one to watch us fuck.” He gauges my open-mouthed reaction and looks up at Jack. “This is Kim. We were just heading upstairs, isn’t that right?”
“I… umm… wait. You? One of the newspaper men? You’re going to watch?” I glare at him. “In that case, you better apologize.”
Jack winks at me, and it pushes all the wrong buttons. I open my mouth to spit out some more anger, but this insulting friend of Michael’s beats me to the punch.
“Ah, so you don’t like being called chubby? Alright, then, terribly sorry for pointing it out.”
I expel a breath of exasperation, but Michael cuts in.
“Jack, stop being an ass.”
The ass starts to laugh. It’s a boyish and appealing sound. “Right on, I’m going to enjoy watching this one, Mikey. Damn straight I am. She’s fiery.” His eyes land on my breasts and stay there. “Did he tell you he’s a sucker for breasts? Me, I’m more of an ass man. Not that I’m gonna mind seeing your tits worked over. Damn, Mikey. You lucked out this time, didn’t ya?”
Michael stands up and offers me his hand. I take it in dumbfounded silence and get up too. I can’t believe I’m living this conversation. “Jack’s a little crass, but you’ll get used to him. Normally, you wouldn’t speak or get to know the voyeurs, but Jack is a friend and helps me with the trial runs.”
“Yeah, well, I might be a little overweight, but he’s no god’s gift either,” I say loud enough for Jack to hear. In reality, Jack isn’t ugly, just normal average looking, but I’d never tell him that now. I’m still nervous about all this. “Is he going to watch now?”
Jack laughs and wiggles his eyebrows at me. “Not tonight, Kimmy. Tonight, you get Michael all to yourself. You gotta feel each other out… pardon the pun, before you start performing for customers.” He winks, waves to Michael and disappears into the crowded restaurant.
Still holding my hand, Michael leads me toward the exit. “Don’t mind him.” He gives my hand a little reassuring squeeze. “But he’s right. I can’t put you in front of paying customers until I know you’ll be alright.”
“Oh,” is all I can think to say. I’m letting him lead me across the room to the elevator, and we’re going to have sex. I’m nervous, no denying that, but I’m hella excited too. I’m about to jump into bed with the hottest guy in the hotel, maybe even the entire planet. Even better? I’ve got just enough of a wine buzz to get me through this stage of my very strange job interview. And just enough of a wine buzz to let me forget the business part and just have fun.
I’m going to have sex. Yay me!
CHAPTER 4
Michael
Two hours before…
The title of my ad is the bait — Question-For exhibitionists who possibly need some doe - m4w
It’s intriguing and crazy enough to entice the right person to click and learn the dirty details. I know the ad in and out because I wrote it. And, Jesus, how I agonized over the wording the first time I placed it on Craig’s List.
Can you fuck a fit white male while being watched for doe?
If so, write for details and tell me if you are truly capable of doing this.
Originally, instead of “fit white male” I’d written “older white male” because it’s the truth, and by nature, I’m an honest guy. I found out soon enough that it didn’t work. Most of the women who would even consider my proposal want a fit young guy. And at thirty-nine, when I started this three years ago, I didn’t fit the bill. They wanted twenty-somethings, so I had to lure them in and then hook them when we were face to face.
And it worked. Over and over.
Must be my scintillating personality.
Or maybe there are just a lot of horny women because I’ve found to my surprised pleasure that there are enough girls out there ready, willing, and able to accommodate me.
Men too.
Let’s not forget about them. The twisted fucks who want to watch.
What a sick world.
Thank god.
I lost my last girl three weeks ago. She told me she was dating some guy and that it wasn’t serious, and then… bam! She’s getting married. I call bullshit. It won’t last. How can it? Love doesn’t exist. It’s all a charade. A mirage. A big, empty, soul-sucking hole promoted by clever marketers, so you’ll sink three months salary into a ten karat ball and chain.
Right, so anyway, enough of that.
Sitting in an upscale hotel in Long Beach, New York, I wait for my latest mark. I like Long Beach, and I have a few high-end real estate properties here. I like any place near the ocean. Too bad I’m debating leaving before she gets here.
Do I really want to go through this again?
Who am I kidding? I miss screwing a hot chick while some sick, slobbering fuck watches.
Besides, I’ve already set everything up. I’ve given the newspapers to the pigeons and told them I was playing a trick on a blind date. And they bought it. They buy it every time.
Sad, really. Because it’s a mean joke. If it was a blind date, these guys wouldn’t mind, and would even think it’s funny that this girl won’t know which guy she’s meeting. I’m hanging her out to dry, and these guys love it.
I sigh and nod to my best friend, who’s playing one of the pigeons this time. Why Jack sticks with me, I’ll never understand. He’s a lawyer, so maybe he’s got a thing for down and out head cases.
I fit that bill.
As much as I bust his balls, he’s a good man, and I don’t know where the hell I’d be without him. He put back the pieces when Humpty Dumpty fell off the wall.
In case that isn’t clear, I’m Humpty.
And when I fell, I cracked hard. Wanted to die, didn’t want to be put back together. Jack didn’t care what I wanted, so he got out the duct tape and glue, then patched me up.
I don’t know if I’m better off.
After all, what normal person sits in a hotel bar waiting for a stranger to arrive so he can decide if he’ll pay her to fuck him while creeps watch.
Fuck, what does it matter? I already lost everything.
Tossing back my drink, I feel myself being sucked into the past. And then…
She walks in, and my heart — that cold, black, dead thing in my chest — starts beating.
Jesus, where’d that sappy shit come fro
m?
How’s this instead?
An angel just walked in and is heading right for me.
She’s gorgeous, a goddess. An angel. Dare I clip her wings?
What the fuck?
I want to run. Should run.
From the corner of my eye, I see Jack grinning from ear to ear. He knows, but I have to play it cool. I need a new Ex, an exhibitionist. Ironic, isn’t it?
But, she’s too perfect. Jesus, look at her. She’s already seen the pigeons, and her smile, that beautiful, shy, embarrassed smile, grows on those sweet cherub cheeks. She’s a little older than the typical marks who answer my ad, and I’m lost. There’s no turning back now. I’m supposed to hook her, but I’m the one dangling on the line. My heart is doing some weird thumping thing. I want it to stop, so I take a deep breath and put that practiced, knowing, arrogant smirk on my face and watch her.
She figures out that it’s me much faster than most of the others ever did. She takes ownership of the stool next to me, and my throat closes up, my mouth losing the ability to produce saliva.
“Nice trick,” she says, and I take a sip of my beer to clear the cotton from my mouth. Her voice is hardening my cock.
“You’re late.” Gotta play the hardass, and I silently give thanks that my voice doesn’t come out sounding like a croak.
I’ve made her uncomfortable, and she’s rambling on about why she’s late. I inhale and let it out slowly. We’re on equal footing now. We’re both off balance.
I desperately want to kiss her.
What the fuck?
“How did you know it was me?” I ask, trying to maintain my cool and keep command of this meeting.
“Lucky guess?”
She makes me smile, and I don’t like how fast my heart is beating. Am I having a heart attack? I would actually prefer that to what I think is actually happening. She’s staring at me, and it’s my turn to say something. I can’t just sit here with my dick in my hand.
“No, come on, really. Tell me.” Smile, remember to smile. Be charming. Be arrogant. You got this, Mike.
“Did you know that your dimples show when you smile like that?”
