When She Was Good

by Tristan Taormino

  I was such an exhibitionist that I quickly became Ann’s top girl, and I was bringing in so much money that I didn’t even mind the commission Ann took for booking my clients. After all, she was keeping me safe, screening all the clients and making sure I never got hurt, and she was also smart enough to keep me from getting busted. I had regular clients, money invested in an IRA, and lived fairly luxuriously in exchange for sex. My parents thought I was the front desk manager at a hotel, and I certainly spent enough time in them to know the ins and outs in case they ever questioned me.

  And yet as I knocked on the door of the woman’s hotel room, I didn’t really know what to expect. I had actually never had a female client before. Sure, sometimes couples would rent me out, but it was usually more for the purpose of two-on-one, with little or no contact between the woman and me. I figured this would make for a nice change, though. It had been a busy week, and my jaw was sore. This trick would probably be almost restful for me!

  The woman who opened the door looked to be around thirty, with huge green eyes and short, dark hair. Her tank top showed off toned arms, and she eyed me suspiciously. I cleared my throat.

  “I’m Maya,” I said meaningfully. “Are you ready for dinner?” She looked me up and down and nodded, opening the door wider to let me pass. It was a pretty swanky hotel room, with a king-size bed. There were no personal articles that I could see, other than a shopping bag that sat on the table by the window. I smiled, recognizing the logo on the bag from the Pleasure Chest.

  I waited expectantly to be told what to do. The woman seemed uncomfortable with my stare, strange considering she was the one in charge here. She seemed to realize that I was getting antsy, and she blushed a little. She pulled a small tray and a baggie out of the nightstand drawer, and started breaking up weed for a joint.

  “I need to relax a little first,” she said. “I don’t usually have sex with strangers. Why don’t you dance for me for a while, while I roll this?”

  I knew that this particular hotel had all those satellite music channels on the TV, and I reached for the remote control. “What kind of music do you like?” I asked her. She gave me a smartass look that clearly said she didn’t give a shit, so I chose some sensual, electronica-style stuff and got to work. I took off my dress and started swaying my hips to the music. She lit up the joint and settled back on the foot of the bed, watching me. I could see the appreciation in her eyes, and for good reason! I was wearing black lace and black stilettos. There was a mirror spanning the wall behind the headboard, so I could see my reflection behind her. Shiny red hair swept down to my shoulder blades. I kept it dyed this coppery shade, figuring L.A. already had too many blondes, and I had Brazilian waxes done frequently enough that none of my customers had any way of knowing I wasn’t a natural redhead.

  I peeled off my bra as I danced, cupping my breasts in my hands and squeezing them together. She offered me the joint and I took a long drag, exhaling as I handed it back to her. It was good shit, and I hoped no one in the neighboring rooms would smell it. I unhooked the thigh-high stockings from my garter belt, then turned around to give her an excellent view of my ass as I slid the garter and thong down my hips. I stepped out of them and left them on the floor, then turned back around, so that she could take in everything she was paying for.

  Her eyes were heavy-lidded now, from the smoke and from lust as she gazed at me hungrily. She was definitely relaxed now.

  “So,” I asked huskily, “what is it you would like from me? You aren’t paying all that money just to look.”

  Her jaw clenched for a moment, like whatever she was about to say was difficult for her. “I want from you what I can’t ask my girlfriend for,” she said finally. “I want you to top me.” Seeing that this wasn’t quite registering with me, she sighed and said, “It’s a power thing, okay? I’m a top, always have been, and I can’t bottom to my girl without swallowing a lot of pride. I’m not willing to do that. So I hired you. You will do what I tell you to do, and I’ll get it out of my system. Got it?”

  I was, until that day, blissfully ignorant of the top-and-bottom terminology, but I thought I understood what she was asking for. I knew all about power and pride, and I smiled, knowing I could strike the right balance to please her. She pulled off her tank top, revealing small firm breasts with lovely dark nipples. She stood to unbutton her pants and said, “Go get that bag off the table, and put on what’s in it.” The items in the bag turned out to be a black harness and a dildo that I estimated to be roughly ten inches long and three inches thick. I was accustomed to wearing all kinds of costumes in my line of work, but till now, none of them ever involved a gigantic rubber dick! It took me a few minutes to figure out how to put on the contraption properly, but I managed and returned to the bed, where she lay waiting. I found my reflection to be strangely erotic, the juxtaposition of the strap-on and my bald pussy underneath.

  She was propped up against the pillows, with her legs straight out and barely parted. I stood there, feeling slightly ridiculous in my costume, and she said, “I didn’t bring any lube. So you’re going to have to eat me first.” And she drew up her knees, spreading her thighs for me and displaying a neatly-trimmed cunt with a fat, pink clit. I had never gone down on a woman, and I wasn’t about to ask her how to pleasure her. I knew what I liked, and I figured I would just let my instincts guide me.

  My hair brushed her thighs as I lowered my head to her pussy. I had to stay crouched over the bed on my knees to keep the dildo from disemboweling me. I used my thumbs to separate her lips, and then belatedly thought about protection. I always had condoms with me, but that wasn’t going to help me here. I knew I should ask her if she had saran wrap, or something, but I didn’t quite know how to bring it up without killing the mood.

  She sensed my hesitation, and looked at me wryly. “I promise you I’m clean. If you don’t believe me, we can end this now, and I’ll pay you for the dance.” I knew better than to ever take a client’s word for anything, and I knew that Ann would kill me if I caught something. But I could smell the juices emanating from her pussy, and they stirred a hunger in me that I didn’t expect to feel for another woman. I had always liked my own scent, but I had attributed it to narcissism. I was surprised to realize I wanted to taste her, wanted to see what this was like. And even though I knew I was being stupid, I believed her.

  I ran my tongue across her clit and she gave a jolt like I had touched her with a cattle prod. She tasted sweet and salty, and I lapped at her like a cat. She moaned and writhed, and I fought to keep at it, pinning her legs down with my arms. The ache in my jaw became more pronounced, but I didn’t care—this was a matter of pride. I had a reputation for impeccable customer service to maintain, and I was determined to get it right on the first try. She was dripping now, soaking my face, and I could feel myself getting wet along with her. I pulled her clit into my mouth, sucking and nibbling on it, until she put a hand on my forehead to push me away. Gasping for breath, she said, “I want you to fuck me now.”

  I positioned myself between her legs and guided the head of the dick into her. I had figured that this would be a pretty mechanical act for me, since I would be fucking her with a piece of rubber and therefore wouldn’t really feel anything. I hadn’t counted on the pressure of the dildo on my already throbbing clit as I pushed inside of her. I also hadn’t anticipated the thrill I felt as I watched her cunt stretch to accommodate what I was shoving into it. She gritted her teeth as I slid the dick all the way into her, grinding my hips so she could feel the soft leather of the harness against her sensitive clit. She looked up at me and I smiled, just a little, before pulling back out. I did so quickly, and the cock was so thick that her pussy made a pop sound, like it was a bottle of wine being uncorked.

  For the first time in my life, I was not on the receiving end, and I was enjoying it more than I had ever expected to. Here was this woman who was so stone-minded she wouldn’t let her own girlfriend fuck her, and she was totally in my power. Even t
hough she was paying me, I felt like I owned her ass.

  As I plunged into her again, I leaned down to bite her left nipple. When she yelped, I laughed. We found a good rhythm and she started lifting up to meet my thrusts, her eyes closed, grunting. I knew I was supposed to be following her orders, but I had the feeling I was in charge now, and decided to test the waters a little. I slowed down, and finally came to a halt with the dick still buried inside her. She opened her eyes and looked at me murderously, and I said sharply, “You said you wanted to be topped? Well, I’m going to fuck you so you won’t forget it anytime soon.” I pulled out of her and sat back on my heels. “Turn over,” I ordered. She glared up at me, defiantly, and I smiled. This woman wasn’t accustomed to taking orders in bed, but that was what she had hired me for, after all.

  “If you want it,” I teased maliciously, “you’ll do what I tell you to do. Turn over, now.” Her angry eyes betrayed her, showed a flicker of appreciation and respect, and she rolled over. With her on her knees and elbows her ass pointed up to me like an offering, and I reached beneath her to tickle her clit with my fingernail, like I was strumming a guitar. She jerked, and I used my free hand to guide the head of the dick back inside of her. Then I grabbed her hips and pulled her down onto me, impaling her with a force that made her groan and lose her balance.

  She put her hands flat on the bed, and pushed herself back so that she resembled a dog squatting on my lap. Her eyes met mine in the mirror, and she blushed at the image of herself at the mercy of a stranger. She looked away, but I grabbed her chin and jerked it back up to face her reflection.

  “Don’t look away,” I whispered to her. “I want you to ride me like a good girl, and we are both gonna watch you get yourself off in the mirror.” She bit down on her lower lip, but her eyes didn’t stray from the mirror as she started to slide herself up and down in my lap. I could feel my own wetness seeping down my legs as her motions pressed the base of the dick against me, and I spread my legs just a bit further, relishing the pressure on my clit as she gained momentum.

  I watched her in the mirror, her green eyes wild, her breasts bouncing, and a sheen of sweat glistening on her body. Her eyes were on me again, and I felt a rush at the thought of being the only one who got to see her like this, losing control with me the way she wouldn’t let herself with her own girlfriend. She was panting as she got herself closer, closer…and then her entire body was shaking with spasms. She let out a bellow as she came, and I grabbed the base of the dick and moved it in a circular motion around my clit, until I was coming along with her, each of us staring at the other in the mirror.

  She fell forward onto the bed, and I sprawled next to her. We were both quiet as our breathing returned to normal. I unstrapped the harness and set the contraption on the nightstand. My movements were clumsy—it was rare for me to get off with a client.

  She rolled over and gave me a silly grin, embarrassed now that it was over. I smiled back at her, and forced myself to return to professional mode. Sitting up, I said, “Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

  “Shit, no,” she replied. “I think I’ll need some time to recover from that.” Still a little shaky at the knees, I got dressed. When I inspected the envelope of cash she handed me, I found almost double the going rate. I raised my eyebrows at her, and she said, “I’ll call for you again. When I do, I’ll expect you to be available.” She nodded at the harness and dildo, still on the nightstand. “Take that with you, and bring it next time. And don’t even think about using it on anyone else.”

  She had regained her veneer of control now, and I didn’t say anything, merely smiled as I packed the goodies into my bag. I winked at her on the way out the door, and smiled through the entire cab ride home. I got out my cell phone to call Ann and let her know to put my newest client on the VIP list. When she answered, Ann said, “Hey, how’s my top girl?” I chuckled at my title; Ann didn’t know the half of it.

  AND THE STARS NEVER RISE

  Missy Leach

  Lee recognized the dented hood of her coworker’s car and swerved into a spot directly in front of a fire hydrant to see what was going down. She jumped out of her pickup truck, bag in tow, and tried to look casual as she scanned for any meter maids. No parking enforcement was around, but she spotted the competition easily enough: her rival colleague, and five additional guys in various states of cleanliness from other firms. From behind a low wall circling a parking lot, her coworker was crouched uncomfortably near a pile of trash. Lee chuckled, remembering the shot she got last week of an angry woman bashing his hood in with the right half of a pair of Jimmy Choo heels. Yeah, Lee had photographic evidence of the perpetrator, but no way was she going to share it with that moron. She turned toward the restaurant, trying to spot the newest victim of his clumsy pestering.

  Annabel sat at a small table on the porch at Urth, skimming the scant personals section of the Weekly and absentmindedly sipping a cup of black Manhattan Mudd. She touched up her lipstick, and then crossed one leg over the other, scratching under the pink bow on her left instep. It was cool in the shade, so she huddled in the late afternoon sun, trying to make her goose bumps go away. What is wrong with me? Annabel thought. Lost in contemplation, she jumped when the waiter brought her cheesecake out. She ate the strawberries off the top of the cheesecake and tried to dismiss the feeling that she was being watched.

  “You’re being hosed right now,” said a low voice from the other side of her table.

  Annabel dropped her paper in shock. Despite the oddness of the situation, Annabel looked at the person across from her the way she looked at any boy—shoes first. Satisfied with the pole climbers, she assessed Lee’s hair. Short everywhere except for the top, a raffish mop looking like it was styled for a Smiths video.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said you’re being hosed. They’re taking your picture.” At Annabel’s confused expression, Lee threw a beauty pageant wave at her competition across the street. Without putting down his camera, Lee’s coworker gave her a rude gesture and shouted something indecipherable.

  Lee’s smirk revealed a single dimple on her right cheek. “I suggest you head home before any of these assholes gets a close-up of you reading the Women Seeking Women ads.”

  Without thanking her, Annabel grabbed her purse and jumped up, almost knocking her coffee over. She walked as quickly as she could to her car, trying to look like she wasn’t running. She thought she heard clicking shutters behind her, but when she looked around, she didn’t see anyone. Her hand shook as she jammed the button on her keychain to unlock her car door.

  Annabel drove a block away and parked again, too upset to drive any farther. What the hell was going on? Should she call the cops? After a few minutes of listening to her radio, she calmed down considerably, and actually giggled to herself. What was she thinking? No one was there to photograph her. It was probably just some line that cute dyke used to pick up girls. Yeah, there were photographers, but of course there were, this was West Hollywood. There was probably someone famous sitting next to her at lunch. Damn it! Annabel could be so dense. Why didn’t she flirt back instead of being skittish? She drove home in a considerably worse mood.

  Lee sat on Annabel’s front steps and rooted through her bag. What was taking that girl so long to get home? Lee carefully removed her borrowed white Canon telephoto lens and switched it with the kit lens that came with her camera. Maybe this exclusive would get her the cash to buy her own telephoto lens, possibly a cheaper Tamron.

  Annabel’s emotions clashed when she saw Lee sitting on her steps. Suddenly, she didn’t want the thing she’d been pining for.

  “Who are you?” Annabel hissed. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  Lee stood up. This wasn’t going quite as easily as she had planned it.

  “My name is Lee. I’m…well, I guess you could say I’m one of the paparazzi.”

  Annabel glared up at her and repeated her last question. “What the fuck are you doi
ng here?”

  Lee decided that for once honesty might be the best approach. “Listen, just let me get this exclusive, just one shot of you in your apartment, and I’ll explain everything and I promise to never inconvenience you again.”

  Annabel pushed past Lee in shock. She wasn’t exactly afraid of this cute butch in cuffed Levi’s and boots, but she wasn’t sure what she should do in this odd situation, either.

  “Please,” Lee asked quietly. She looked into Annabel’s eyes and tried to appear as meek as possible.

  “Fine, come in, no pictures unless I say, though. I just want to know what this is all about,” Annabel said.

  Lee picked up her bag, hung her camera around her neck, and followed Annabel into the apartment. She took a seat on the knockoff Eames sofa and looked around the small living room, trying to find an interesting backdrop.

  “Stay there,” Annabel warned her, and went into the kitchen and returned with two Anchor Steams. Lee was fidgeting intently with her camera. She looked surprised at the proffered beer, but then grinned and quaffed it.

  “Now, what is going on? Are you a stalker or something?” Annabel asked, not believing it could be true.

  “No. I told you. I take pictures of famous people,” Lee replied.

  “Ha. I’m not famous. So what’s really going on?”

  “Okay,” Lee drew a deep breath. “You aren’t famous. Yet. But you will be once the news comes out about your girlfriend. Your girlfriend is named Angel, right? Listen, you know that reality show she went away to do last month? You haven’t heard from her yet, have you? Rumor is from some idiot camera guy that she’s going to win it. And once that final episode airs, Angel is going to be famous. And so are you. Because the tabloids know all about you two. We know about the types of clubs you go to together and what goes on in those clubs, and since we got the tip, we’ve been following you. Because everyone in the world is going to want to know about Angel and her kinky lover.”