I sat across his naked buttocks, rubbing his back, and could not help but rub my warm, tender clitoris into his flesh. Intermittently, I reached down to kiss him while he turned his head to the side. My working woman's fingers were thorough and rough with his muscles and he howled with delight, inciting my amusement. When I turned myself around to straddle him the other way, I massaged his thighs and calves, his toes and his ankles.
“I love you, Noah,” I told him, with my heart bursting for him.
He rolled and faced me. He found only my pussy before his eyes.
“You are really wet.”
“Your fault,” I said.
He curled his tongue and folded it inside me, devouring his effect on me. He did not quite bring me to orgasm. He moved up behind me on his knees and wetted my breasts, my stomach, my throat; slaking me with oil. He pushed me over and massaged my buttocks with strong strokes.
“I am so hot for you, Noah. I love you. I love your body.”
“Charley, I love you.”
He had gotten me so relaxed and so well-lubed, he entered me without a worry and we slid together without care. He wrapped his arms tightly around my breasts and it was magical.
Afterward I admitted to him, “It scares me how much we feel for one another.”
“I know, darling,” and he held his arms around me tighter. “I never, ever… I just… never thought anything would happen like this, for me, in this manner…”
“I know. Neither of us sought this,” I told him.
We locked limbs and torsos and tongues and I tried to rid myself of all the pain, burying myself between his grasp.
In the bed that night, his warmth and structure comforting me beyond compare, I cried with happiness. I did not need to know about his life. In truth, I did not want to know. This was about an arrangement that would keep us both at a happy median, and I figured that was more than most dare dream of.
Yet in the recesses of my mind, I knew, I would much rather have just sailed off into the sunset with him. But I was under his command and I dare not cross him. I resolved to give myself up but I didn't know how much I had yet to learn about the traps and pitfalls of love and desire.
Chapter XVII
The Morning After
I asked how he knew I was the Chambermaid. He said a friend of his had told him about me. He was thinking about asking for my number from said friend the night we met ‒ when the real me happened upon him anyway. He might never have made that call to reception to complain about the tub. I may never have been the one to go up and tell him he was a rude so-and-so. He might never have called upon the Chambermaid's services, with that bad back having put him in such a foul mood. To me, it all seemed like fate's own way of ensuring our meeting ‒ and certainly it seemed as though he and I were indeed doomed and had not a chance of going against what was meant to be. As the saying goes, “someone up there was laughing at our expense”. We were now utterly bonded and doomed to be miserable without one another.
I asked how he figured me out. He had noticed the ring on my middle finger that first night. It was my signature ring and I had put it on after finishing work. I only ever wore it out of hours but as I said, I'd been derailed and pressed upon by that poor receptionist to deal with the ruffian that was now my lover. He would have known to which house I belonged and that I may well indeed be the Chambermaid that so many men amongst his kind of circles spoke of in dark, quiet country clubs after hours. He said that he had almost decided that one night and one fuck with me was enough, but that when he was back in town he felt, no, was compelled even, to seek me out again.
The morning after our first night in my flat, we were back in the bath again. We had already breakfasted on quails eggs, caviar and melba toast, bucks fizz and a 69 on the kitchen floor. He had one commitment that day in the afternoon and had cancelled all the rest of his meetings to be with me. He said all the other engagements were “fanciful and meaningless” so he had instructed his PA to go in his stead and take notes. Anyway, yes, the conversation in the steaming tub went a little something like this (with his hand holding his sore cock while I rubbed ointment on the grazes of my breasts):
“So, what do you do for these jackasses? Fella who told me about you, whatshisname, erm, Ralph…”
“Ralph Hart?”
I remembered him. He was one of those from the Lodge.
Noah nodded.
“Him?” I chuckled, revealing, “Tiny cock. Teeny, tiny, tiny, poor love. I taught him how to perfect the tantric tongue thrust however. I am sure that pleased his wife a little.”
Noah coughed on his own breath, choking himself silly, and told me, “He's got massive balls though! In board meetings, you can see the ladies… they can't help but notice how tight his trousers are!”
“Yep, big balls… compensating methinks. No man with a wanger of size and girth can comfortably go around in the kecks he gets away with!”
We laughed uproariously.
“So, Ralphy baby… he told me you performed… what did he say… how did he put it…?” Noah thought long and hard, searching for the exact words.
“Someone's showing their age,” I remarked.
He splashed me with a great big paw's breadth of bathwater and I gasped with laughter.
“Fucker,” I told him, wiping my eyes clear.
“Anyway, yeah, what he said was, 'She will ensure you are never sexually dissatisfied ever again and leave you in no doubt that you need never call on another escort ever again, once you've had her.’ Yep, that's what he said.”
“And so, you automatically assumed that the Chambermaid was offering the sex of your life and the kicks you'd always been searching for and the biggest tits of any woman you'd ever met and the tightest pussy and the cutest ass and the biggest, most luscious lips of anyone that had ever existed on this plane of earth…”
“Err, yep, but then, that's you, isn't it?” he asked, nervously.
“Well, yes, my darling, it is,” I joked.
“Just tell me what it is you do then, so we can set the guidelines.”
“Well, at Hambleton Lodge, I prepared men for their partners. Got them going a bit. Spanked them… a bit. When I left the fold, they missed me so I started offering them my service at the hotel, discreetly of course. I make them feel comfortable and at ease. A lot of women book me for their partners and we agree terms beforehand. Sometimes I offer sexual counselling to the men. I teach them exactly how to make their ladies cum and cum and cum. But there's a lot more to it than that. Everyone is individual.”
“So Ralph probably advised me to seek you, knowing I was having marital issues, etcetera.”
“I am afraid so, you were had.”
“Oh. So, I only got full sex because you were you? And I was me…” His mouth was full of sarcasm.
“Seems so, my dear. Seems so. Lucked out that time didn't you? Getting free sex from the mistress of all pleasure and sexual education?”
He scoffed and splashed water everywhere, throwing his weight around in mock annoyance. I loved it when he got all growly. He never looked sexier. He was a massive hunk of man meat for me to lose myself under. God I loved him.
“Listen, I have a talent for playing a part, that's it. I found a way of living out fantasies and getting my kicks. I suppose some might call it escort work, but it is more than that. Tasteful and arty. Mutual and consensual. Tends to be that I only fuck if I really like them… or if their wives insist on it. Anyway, I wear the ring, though I left the Lodge a while ago. When I wear it, it reminds me of who I can be, of who I am when I want to be…”
“So, it was the ring? That made you screw me?” He chuckled.
“Nope,” I giggled, “it was your rudeness to Rochelle and my stupid professional care. And your cock. And balls. And perhaps I was without a date for that night because he had put his back out and forgotten to call me up…”
We were laughing so much, both of us, tittering and hiding behind our hands and looking anywhere b
ut at each other. This method of smoothing over the truth would come to annoy me eventually, though.
“So, what does the job entail exactly? And why stay scrubbing bogs?”
“Well, I've written down some of my thoughts and encounters.”
I retrieved the notebook I kept by the bath and gave him the list. I had written it out a while ago, just in case I ever got lost and needed to remind myself of the rules. They were classic scenarios I could always go back to if needed.
“You'll write about this in a memoir one day, you will. I can see it now. This is ingenious stuff. Man, you must have those boys in the palm of your hands, and no wonder…”
“I know,” I said, secretly feeling a little unhappy at his glee.
I was the novelty, already: the fix of wet dreams and all manner of wank material.
He muttered, “From now on, you'll not let anyone hit you but me. You'll not fuck any of them, either. You'll make them suffer so much, telling them you only serve one bastard and that's me. You serve me and only me with your heart and your pussy and that's all I ask of you, Charley. Oh, and, tell me everything you do with them. I want to know it all.”
“Fine Noah, that is fine with me. But I have one question…”
“Yeah?”
“Are you ready to go anal? I promise, I shall be gentle with your virginal arsehole.”
“Okay, Charley.”
I reached for the small pair of pink knickers at the side of the bath that were attached to a strap-on, and motioned for us to get out of the water. I put the knickers on and could feel the cold cum he'd left behind from double fucking me a little while earlier. He got on all fours and the most dramatic thing happened. The scene and his response made me cum without even touching myself. I imagined what Noah thought when he drilled me in the same way and the thoughts drove me to such a result.
Later, after we bathed some more and cleaned up, I found him rummaging where he should not have been.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Learning about you. Investigating,” he said.
“There are certain things you can't touch,” I warned.
Noah had found a shoebox I kept underneath the bedside table, full of photos of Alex and I, plus ticket stubs, concert wristbands, playbills, programmes, the odd bit of cheap merchandise he had forced me to purchase at those events and some cards and bits Alex had given me.
“Your friend was a model, or something, was he?” Noah asked, pawing through the pictures. There was no jealousy in my lover's tone of voice or facial expression. That wasn't how Noah was. He was logistical.
“No. He managed the hotel. Plus, he suffered from low self-esteem. Modelling would have killed him, if the date rapist hadn't.”
Noah frowned. He tried to work through all the information I had just given him. He did not believe some of it, or it did not filter through his cerebral systems easily.
“How do you know someone meant to rape him? They might have just been trying to nick his wallet?”
“I don't know, Noah. Maybe because he was a catch. Why not just nick his wallet while he's not looking!”
I had gotten irate and was aghast at Noah's insensitivity. Why was he saying these things? I wondered.
“I think labels like low self-esteem are bull,” Noah said. “To make people feel special. Singular. To give them a reason for being wasters.”
“Well, you would, wouldn't you? Given you're an insensitive brute.”
I marched off to the bathroom and slammed the door, taking a photo of Alex and I at the rowing lake with me. Two minutes later, Noah crept in and knelt by my side as I sat on the edge of the bath staring at my friend and I, looking so happy together.
“Sorry,” he said. “Maybe I am cold sometimes but it's just because if I sat down and thought about all my problems, I would go mad.”
“Please remember in future that there are those weaker than you, Noah. Crushing people is not what I do for a living, nor would ever want to.”
“I don't crush people. I either make them rich or I don't,” he said.
“Well, I wish life was that simple for the rest of us.”
“I just don't believe in lingering on shit. I move on quick.”
“Fair enough. Move on then,” I told him, trying to stop my tears.
“No, no, silly,” Noah said gently, taking my hand. He kissed it and pressed my palm to his cheek. I closed my eyes and melted.
“Do you miss him?” Noah asked.
“Yes. Every day.”
“I don't really know what it's like to lose someone. I can't imagine.”
“You don't want to, Noah.”
“This is why you chose to lead the lifestyle. Because of the tragedy.”
“Yes and no,” I said, taking the box from him to put it all back and look over a few things myself. I wanted to tell Noah that the Chambermaid was in fact simply an escape from who I was. A character I played to forget myself. Not an excuse to live excessively. Just someone who protected me from harm.
I thought of a way to try and explain it to him, taking his hand in mine.
“If you didn't have your business, if you were a low-paid worker perhaps, or maybe… you even lost everything, how would that make you feel about yourself? How would you cope? Would you still feel powerful and masculine? Or would you lose a sense of that?”
“You think that I am powerful and masculine?” he asked throatily, nuzzling my neck.
“Just answer me,” I said softly. “Would you feel as sexy or as powerful if you weren't Noah Yeardley, the shark of the business world?”
“I guess not, baby. Though, the two don't go hand-in-hand. My time with you is separate to work. It has to be. Maybe if it was just fucking here, I could incorporate you in my world. But, it's a lot more, isn't it? And perhaps I shall never know what it is like to have my identity stripped from me, but I imagine I would be happy enough with you and a low-level job, if it came to it. If it came to…”
“Yeah, you'd make me work instead…”
“Oh baby,” he growled, into my ear. “I love you. Let's savour every moment together.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “But leave Alex out of this. He is my past. You are the future.”
He nodded and glanced at the photo in my hand.
“There are a lot of good memories there, I'd say. Some pretty decent experiences. Hell, if I had the time, I'd like to soak up some more culture on occasion.”
“We can, if you like. Whenever you want. But my favourite thing to do is read. I love to read. I also love to be read to.”
Noah snaked his arms around my torso, while I sheltered myself in a leopard-print silk slip. He moved up close, kissed my neck and breathed in my scents.
“You're the wonder I never asked for nor deserved but now find myself unable to live without, all because the lady loves. And, she knows opera and football… fuck, I'm lucky,” he groaned.
I gave him my own version of poetry. “Bury your fingers in my belly, Noah. I need you again.”
He removed my slip and stroked his hands all over me, worshipfully. He was beginning to really understand what worked for me and I hit the highest note of my life as I suffered multiple orgasms at the stroke of his rough touch. It got better and better between us.
“I may be a brute, but I'm not insensitive when it comes to you,” he said, planting an exquisite kiss on my cheek. I re-dressed and we got back in bed. He read some passages from Antony and Cleopatra to me, with me buried in his arms all the while.
Chambermaid's Rule No.3
Anticipation Is Paramount
My Initiate this day deserved a harsh lesson. He seemed so certain of my compliance and I was determined to thwart all his hopes.
“Tell me again, why are we doing this?” he asked.
“Were you not advised, it is not wise to question, but to simply administer to me in whatever manner I deem necessary, in order for you to receive the service in its purest, most effective form.”
�
��Why do you talk like that?” the disobedient man asked.
“If you question me again, I will leave. I have no cause or desire to be here with you. I ask your silence now and if it is broken, I will end our time abruptly.”
He nodded, subservient.
“Now, sir, please, let me just get comfortable.”
The Initiate was tied at the wrists and ankles, splayed and bound on his back, completely naked. His pale body was fresh and blemish-free. He was young and lithe, very tall and slender. He was impetuous and naive, however; possibly an ambitious man of my own age, who had already made significant steps up the rung of his chosen ladder. I knew the type. He was attractive and ripe for the plucking, but this was always the way. I always had to resist; proving my love for my Master.
On the towel I had laid down beside his body was a dish containing feminine shave gel, a two-blade lady razor and another dish filled with fresh, warm water.
I peeled my lace thong away, wriggling out of it deftly, before stretching a foot out toward the bed to display myself to him.
“What do you think, a little overgrown?”
My pubis was barely covered by a millimetre of hair. This was about control.
He nodded once more, gulping, twitching in his nether region.
“Your absolute silence will be rewarded, in time, mon cher. Now, umm, I think we are ready, almost…”
I reached for the riding crop and tested its quality, thrashing it against the air. He heard the whoosh, the sinister threat, and jumped, desperate to keep his mouth shut. I reached out, tracing the weapon along the length of his manhood, smiling sadistically.
“You are gifted with a long member, my dear. We would not want that to change.”
He violently shook his head from side to side, gasping, almost in shock at the thought of the pain that I might inflict. I licked my lips in anticipation.
“Hush, my darling, we have no need of that… yet.”
He lay there pallid, eyes bulging, fearful of my wickedness.
A Fine Profession (The Chambermaid's Tales Part One) Page 21
