A Fine Profession (The Chambermaid's Tales Part One)

by Sarah Michelle Lynch

  “I only want one thing between your painted lips later,” he said, and I was seized by a flood of warmth in my belly.

  I whispered in his ear in a dulcet tone, “You do have a lovely pink cock. I have the rouge in my purse. We can use it later if you like. To defile that pinkness.”

  “Why are we here?” he asked, annoyed, “we're wasting time!”

  “We need sustenance for later,” I assured him, “plus, we've yet to try foreplay.”

  “I'm beginning to realise why,” he choked, shifting his crotch a little. The jacket was a necessity, I realised, as he brought it over his jeans.

  “I'm glad I wore more than a thong, otherwise this seat would be drenched,” I muttered, trying to speak through pursed lips.

  Everyone was staring at the hot couple almost making love with their eyes and their words. I felt they were trying to read my lips. I looked down at my lap and smiled coyly. But out of nowhere, the adrenalin left me and I felt daunted, imagining the eyes and the whispers. My face must have darkened and he noticed.

  “Please don't do that. Don't,” he demanded, murmuring right in my ear. His warm breath brought me back, instantly reassuring me. He teased his nose through my hair and told me with hot whispers, “I recognise that look. But trust me, you're the most beautiful woman in this city.”

  “It's not what you think, Noah…” I said, his name poetry on my lips. I loved his name. I knew he loved me saying it.

  “What is it then?” he asked, offering me infinite comfort with his soft stare.

  “It's a long story, I really wouldn't know where to start,” I explained.

  Truthfully, I simply felt that with that compulsive chemistry between us and an obvious affinity of sorts, we shouldn't have been thinking about rushing a nice meal together to spend precious minutes in bed. That made me nervous. I wondered whether it was too late to ask for more from him after the way we had started off, not to mention my nocturnal habits before we met…

  “Charlotte, I'm a little older than you, yes? We both know that. So take it from me… in my experience, just go with the flow. Life is too short. If we analyse this, we'll ruin it. Trust me. Let's just have fun. It couldn't be any simpler than that.”

  The part of me that once believed this with such ferocity was now being peeled away. That I had bought a dress for this man and agreed to eat out with him were huge leaps for me, but obviously, he was totally unaware of this. I had forgotten how easily I could betray myself sometimes.

  “Okay, I agree. I do, really, it's just… you know.”

  He placed his drink down and picked up my hand, turning it over to trace my palm with his fingertip. He stared at the scars. Hence the long sleeves. He drew my wrist up and kissed the contusions, briefly, before covering me up again. He assessed my response but before anything else could be said, we were called to our table.

  The food was delicious and miraculous, arriving course after course, so we had not much time in between to talk. We were both ravenous and scoffed like pigs at the trough, shovelling our food down to get the hell out of there. In between telling him about all the weird and wonderful things that went on in hotels, he held my palm and drew lustful phrases with his fingertip. Big lips. Big tits. Suck me. Dip me. Cum. Cock. I'm hard. I can smell your pussy. Hot bitch. One of the things he drew was piss on me. This sparked an idea and so, in my guile, I went to the bathroom, squatted over the well-used bog, and mopped my pussy dry with a wad of paper. That same paper I pressed into his hand as I came back to the table and kissed his cheek before sitting back down. He tucked it into his pocket quickly but some minutes later, after everyone went back to their own meals following my little strut between the tables, he took out his tissue and said to me, “Darling, this is very good stuff, but my nose is flowing!”

  He made a complete show of it, blowing and breathing into the wad deeply. I stared at him over my glass of Indian lager, animatedly eyeing him. My foot had been creeping up toward his cock all night, beneath the tablecloth. It was rock solid most of the time. I felt sure my nipples were so hard that they were poking their shape out of my dress, even through the padded Wonderbra. In the loo, the paper had absorbed a lot of pussy juices that had slaked my crotch and no doubt my pheromones had just added another kick to his arousal as he inhaled those and the molecules of urine. I took his palm and ran my dainty finger around it, slowly communicating: go wank off and bring me a souvenir.

  The idea was cataclysmic. He was aching to take the edge off his desire and my suggestion was considered for perhaps a millisecond, before he got up and dashed off to the toilet. Minutes later, he returned with glass in hand, cupping it as if he were so drunk he was hanging on to it as ballast. I soon realised he was hiding the contents therein. He came to my side, handed me the glass, and kissed the top of my head whispering, “Bottoms up.”

  I threw it down my neck instantly. It was salty and warm, sticking to my teeth, so I knocked back some beer and we got up to go. Noah pressed a few £20 notes into a waiter's hand and put his hand firmly on my arse, leading me out. We ran toward the hotel, desperation now gripping us so that neither of us could talk. In the lift, we frantically kissed and his hand snaked under my dress to press against my sodden panties. The journey was quick and not enough time to give me what I wanted.

  In the room, he threw me down on the bed, hitched my dress up and pulled my panties to the side. He licked and sucked on my pussy furiously and I screamed and ached with joy. I came so quickly. In my delirium, as I caught my breath afterward, I didn't realise his cock had been unleashed and was waiting for me already. He held out the rouge and was on his knees. I painted my lips exaggeratedly and reached for his member. I grabbed his buttocks, digging my nails in tightly. I yanked him toward me and thrust his cock in my mouth. It was the first time I had ever performed fellatio. I had never thought of doing it before because I didn't think I would enjoy it. However, I was so mad with lust for Noah that I wanted to, so desperately. The only way I could bear his sizeable organ was if he gave it to me himself, and he did, forcing his way inside my throat. I somehow found the strength to administer to his girth and length, venturing to a place deep inside my mind, where discomfort and pain did not exist. I simply thought of the delicious taste of his skin; the salty-sweet pre-cum lubricating his shaft; my full, blood-red lips tattooing him; the big balls rocking against my chin gently. I grabbed those glands, which were protected by silken, blonde fur, and squeezed, sensing there was not much left to give. I swished my tongue around his nobhead, gaining a sense of every contour of the glans and foreskin.

  “Am I doing okay?” I asked.

  “Just… yep… don't stop.”

  “I've never sucked a man before.”

  “You're pretty good at it.”

  It got to the point where I needed him to end my agony. It was too large and vicious to toy with for long inside my mouth. My fingers dug into his cheeks to arouse him further. He thrust deliberately, delighted and enthralled, holding his hands in my hair and repeating how luxuriously I devoured his cock. I wanted him to slake my throat with his sperm and juices, to feed me with his very life force. He was a masculine, towering male, hovering over me, controlled by my very will and under my command.

  “I love your thick sex,” I shrilled, grabbing the base with my fist, pumping and sucking, telling him, “cum down my throat. Fill me with your cum. I love it.”

  I was absolutely desperate for him to end my torment, of having this wonderful organ between my teeth, almost begging me to clamp down on it and chew the very essence from within. It was delicious and violent, painful and delirium-inducing. The skin of that cock was like satin! I placed my finger over his anus, pressed, and wiggled inside. I reached for his small G-spot and grazed it. His eyes bulged. He started moaning loudly, like a teenager, thrusting in my direction wildly. He held on to my shoulders, having an out-of-body experience. He howled like a beast, the very animal he might once have been stirring deep within his groin, his familiar seed sp
illing down my throat, hot and sharp, received thankfully and stored.

  I withdrew, held my arms around him, pressing my cheek against his thigh. It had all been such an ordeal for us both. I kissed a swinging, helpless hand, grabbing it between my own. We were both expelled. He pulled me up into his arms, lifting me towards his body, kissing me. He was the finest kisser of anyone I had ever met. This man's mouth matched my own, meeting mine equally.

  “I'll fill the fucking paddling pool,” he said, and laughed, heading to the bathroom.

  I sniggered and crawled up the bed, intending to rest a moment, but fell into a deep, weary sleep.

  In the dead of night, I woke with a fright, wondering where I was. Noah was behind me, cradling me; he had taken off my dress. For a moment it felt as though I was still asleep. The thought skated across my frontal lobes: You've been dreaming. You may well be dreaming this whole thing.

  He stirred. “Charlotte, baby, go back to sleep.”

  “I should go home.”

  “I don't think so, you're not leaving me.”

  Waking with him like that was staggering. He wrapped his arms all around me and buried his face in my hair. That thing happened in my stomach again to make me feel unnerved and comforted all at the same time. He smelt fresh from the Heaven Scents bath he had been forced to take alone and it reignited my senses.

  “I can't stay here. I work here.”

  “Next time I'll come to yours then,” he said, stroking my forearms.

  I was sated by his promise, whether it was false or not. I rolled over and gazed into his eyes. I thought for an instant that I saw someone I'd known my whole life. I stroked his cheek and his hair, cooing as our mouths touched. We moved closer. I wrapped a leg over him and he shrouded my back with his arms. His body was solid and warm and our chemistry compounded. My cheeks burned already. I felt small in his arms and he pulled me on top. I looked down on him, smoothing his hair from his forehead. We laughed for a moment, smiling mischievously at one another, so happy to wake to each other's faces. Our giggles were stifled by a realisation much more potent: we couldn't ignore the depth of our connection any longer, though it pained me to let him into my heart.

  I teased my tongue between his full, parted lips and he shut his eyes, sucking back his own urges. He couldn't believe his luck. When our mouths touched, I can only liken it to satin strokes turning to violent, razor-sharp compression. I hungered for him desperately. I was mad with desire and I wanted to take back control. I grasped his hands and forced them above his head, keeping my fingers loosely wrapped around his. His thumbs subconsciously stroked the backs of my hands. I lay out against his body so that my feet touched the mid-section of his shins. I kissed his throat for the first time, exploring his thick, masculine landscape, placing gentle kisses across his stubbly, tense skin.

  “Don't stop, Charley.”

  “You smell pretty. Almost like a former lover of mine. She was nice.”

  He groaned.

  I couldn't help but sample a small, pink nipple of his, teasing him in a painful manner that he liked to test out on me. He almost choked on lustful urges. I bit his large biceps and bade him keep his eyes closed as I took my nibbles up and down his arms. Our bodies were starting to stick together with sweat. His fingers tightened around mine. I kissed his shut lids and felt his long lashes against my mouth. I licked sweat from his forehead and groaned. I writhed against him, moaning deeply, with severe desire. I planted a dainty kiss on his mouth and his eyes opened. I released his hands and they found their way to my back and behind. I kissed him again, gently, and we stared into each other's eyes still.

  “Noah, I feel happy with you,” I said, and my voice carried softly around the peaceful room. I could not help telling him.

  “Your body is amazing,” he said, trying to reach for my lips, but I backed away to tease him.

  He rolled and lay partially on top of me, holding his arms beneath me. He pressed deep, French kisses into my mouth, lingering over my tongue. My fingers busied themselves all over the thick muscle of his back. I gasped and quaked and we kissed faster and with more longing. I shifted my legs and arms all around him. We were beginning to make love for the first time. He broke off to start with my fingers, kissing each of them, before marvelling at my wrists, my forearms, shoulders, breasts and navel. I watched him and felt so enamoured; my girlish giggles turning to an aching yearning to have him as my own. I rubbed my feet up and down his body while he worshipped me and felt loath to let him move even an inch away from me. The shining white light of the alarm clock was reflected in his eyes so that his pupils seemed to be sparkling. I could see his boyish, cheeky grin had been replaced by a look of longing; his chin and mouth now spread with awe. He groaned whilst he took his mouth across my body with careful movements that made me swoon. I fell so easily for his tricks and lay back.

  Flipping me over, he kissed the length of my spine, my shoulder blades and the nape of my neck. Oh how my slit swelled and gaped and seeped with longing. I longed for him to be inside me. He kissed my lower back and his hands massaged my buttocks, all the while telling me how succulent and tender each part of me was. I jumped and shuddered at his caresses. I felt certain that when it came to the bedroom, we were compatible. He lifted my haunches, spread my bum cheeks, and began rimming me. I moaned primitively and rubbed my clitoris. He put his fingers inside me, so gently seeking out my soft pressure points, and I suffered the most merciless pleasure as our busy fingertips collided around my pelvis.

  He turned me over and crawled back on top of me. He smiled a cautious, shy beam. He seemed utterly gorgeous; his face shimmering with either blushes or amour, I could not tell in the dark. I threaded my fingers through his thick hair. He began kissing me again and I felt the stirrings once more. His tongue against mine sparked tremors in my heart and stomach that I had never encountered before. I reached my hands down to his fur-lined buttocks and stroked his body. He kissed my throat sensually and I knew this was going too far. I felt tears welling. It was too intense.

  “Your wife, you should try to make it work…”

  He tried to kiss me into silence, passionately pressing my own taste into my mouth, threading it around my own tongue. It was buttery and sweet, with an edge of cod liver oil, which I had routinely taken since a young age, on the recommendation of my mother, who had decided it could cure anything.

  He broke away and looked into my eyes, telling me with urgency, “I want to be inside you. I need to be with you. Please, Charlotte. This is, different, I…” and he kissed me more, ever incensing my further arousal, my delight, with his heavy, hard body against mine, trying to wriggle its way into position.

  My heart ached and cursed itself. His kisses were gentle, fervent and wonderful. His lips kissed as they spoke: with silken, well-spoken, occasional rough manners. I wanted him badly, it was true. Nothing matched the pleasure of a man's body within my own. Making love like that was something I veered away from, however. It scared me…

  “Just fuck me,” I said, but he was undeterred.

  He rolled me back on my side and held me close, pinning me against him. He held my hand against his cheek and shut his eyes, absorbing my touch. I stared at his face and thought his visage the most glorious thing I had ever beheld. He dotted soft kisses across my knuckles and murmured, “Sweet girl. Sweet darling.”

  He wrapped my arms around him and gifted me with a delicate kiss, landing his relaxed lips deftly against mine. I closed my eyes and my body shook. He took his time, kissing me playfully until I could not abide it any longer. I kissed him back. He groaned and tightened his grip around my back. Our licks were becoming frantic. He broke off to kiss my throat. I fought it. I did. But I could not stop myself from sinking.

  “Charlotte, please let me make love to you. Please.”

  I felt myself frown. I entertained leaving. It was becoming too much. He did not cease his pursuit.

  “Charley, please,” and I covered my eyes with my hands.


  He rolled me and pulled my bottom against his cock, rubbing himself between my buttocks. He reached one arm underneath my body and across my breasts. He kissed my neck as he had done the first night but this time I swooned.

  “Noah.”

  “Charley, you're the girl of my dreams. You are. You are,” he told me, right in my ear. I grasped at his hand and laced my fingers through his.

  He stroked my skin, telling me, “Like silken satin. Beautiful.”

  He dusted my arms and back with his fingertips so that I got goose pimples all over. He rubbed his nose in my hair and pressed his body against my back.

  “You should wear a rubber, but it's okay if you don't. I take contraceptives.”

  “Yes,” he moaned. He reached over to lift one breast and kiss it at the sensitive tip. He groaned deeply; so fulfilled, satisfied and pleased already, before getting into position. He entwined my legs with his and placed his cock at my cleft. He threaded his arms underneath me. He pulled my head back so I had to look at him and he was gawping with the anticipation of impending union. My own desire was frantic and my groin pulsed uncomfortably. I needed to have him inside me. His eyes wide, he looked into mine. I bit his bottom lip lightly and he slid inside. I threw my head back against him with ecstasy; a hot, thumping cock inside me, filling me to capacity. He kissed my mouth lingeringly and I succumbed. He licked my throat.

  “Charley.”

  “O…” My heart and stomach erupted with fire and I knew I loved him. There was no other way of clarifying my feeling. To be anything other than together would seem ludicrous forever more after that.

  Every movement made us both shiver and tense and we drew out the sensations together, grinding slowly. The words were on the tip of my tongue. It was torture containing them.