Girl For Rent: A Dark Romantic Comedy

by Dark Angel

  The man smiles. "Can I buy you a drink?"

  I laugh. "Sure, why not. There's no harm in one drink, is there?"

  The man orders me a drink and then extends his hand for a shake. ”I’m Rick, what's your name, beautiful?"

  "My name isn't 'Beautiful' but you can call me Christina.”

  As he extends his hand, I see the flash of his wedding ring, and recoil at the thought of this man married—his wife at home, possibly a handful of kids. Just another dirt bag, I think. I knew his type back from my years at the Spearmint Rhino. The kind of man who would head to the strip club minutes after his wife brought home their first child. But maybe this wasn't the case. Maybe he and his wife have an open relationship—swingers. I bite my lip and decided to hear him out. It is too soon to judge.

  I notice his gaze scanning my thighs, my ass, and my breasts—everything except my face. He doesn’t seem shy about it either.

  "My face is up here," I say with a laugh.

  The man stares at me for a moment, and an awkward silence sits in the air.

  "Right," he says.

  Rick takes a swig of his whiskey and asks, "How much?"

  "What do you mean?" I ask. "You mean, how much are these drinks? I'm sure they're expensive. It's a Vegas clu—"

  Before I can finish, Rick interjects with a soft laugh, "You know what I mean. I like the games though. Would $1,000 work for the next couple of hours? I know women of your…quality…are usually a lot more. Latex is okay, right?"

  I can barely suppress my shock. I ask, almost too loudly, "Why on earth do you think I'm a prostitute?"

  Rick shoves one hand in his pocket, leans back in his stool with eyes wide in shock, and answers, "Well, you are a gorgeous middle-aged woman sitting alone at a bar in Vegas, flirting with me in a playful way.” He runs his hands through his hair, looks around, and strokes his chin before continuing. "I'm so, so sorry. I can't believe I just offered a woman on vacation at a bar $1,000 for sex. I'm so sorry for the misunderstanding.”

  "I'm not here on vacation," I reply, because this stuns me and I can’t seem to think of anything else to say. "I'm here on business."

  I can’t help but wonder how is it that a complete stranger is offering me $1,000 for sex. My knee-jerk reaction is that this is repulsive, but then I start wondering. If I let him fuck me for a couple of hours, I would have $1,000 cash in hand. Given Rick’s age, would he even last two hours? How hard can it be…and yes I know what I said? It will be a lot of money, especially with the budget crunch I have right now. But what am I thinking? I’m not a prostitute. Why am I even considering this?

  Just as soon as I dismiss the thought, I reconsider. Rick would be wearing a condom. I would insist on that. It would be safe. No one would know and for just a little bit of effort, I’d have actual damn money right now.

  Rick, still visibly shaken and confused, takes out his wallet. He opens the fold and reaches for money to pay the bar tab. A plethora of $100 bills spill out of the leather of his wallet.

  I take notice of the money. There must be thousands in that fold. Just this once, I think. If I fuck this guy tonight, my financial problems will be solved. I'll have enough money to maintain my life—spa dates, wine, clothes, daily non-fat lattes, the whole thing. And it's not like I'm being unsafe if he's wearing a condom, right? I wouldn't actually be touching his cock inside my body. Like the old saying goes, "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas." No one would ever know that I did this, or that I am broke.

  My mind contemplates all of these thoughts while Rick stands up to walk away.

  Before he can exit and without any further thought, I tap him on the back.

  Rick turns around.

  I lean into his ear and whisper, "I was just joking, honey. I love to tease. Let's go up to you’re your room. Are you staying at this hotel?"

  "In fact, yes I am," he smiles, his relaxed composure returning.

  6

  Christina

  I follow Rick to his room. It is a premium room, lucky number 77, in the East Tower overlooking the Bellagio fountains that dance in choreographed moves like a thousand cocks coming in synchronicity. A pornographic ballet. It is one hell of a modern room with an electric blue couch, a white chaise lounge, and a queen-sized bed with oversized pillows and gold duvet.

  Rick takes his wallet from his back pocket, opens the fold, and counts out 10 $100 bills. He kicks off his boots and puts the money on the dresser for me to see. We look at each other, look at the money, and then look back at each other again. An awkward silence hangs in the air like two clumsy giraffes embraced in a dance.

  It dawns on me that I am supposed to be the professional in this situation and I need to take charge. It is my job to seduce him, and not the other way around. I take a few sultry steps toward him, swinging my hips, and flipping my blonde hair over one shoulder. I place my hands on the man's chest, rubbing up and down and then in small circles until I reach his shirt buttons, undoing the top ones slowly. I tug at his collar. I run my fingers through his hair and behind his ears.

  It feels robotic with the man standing there, giving no hint of emotion. Am I doing the right thing? The last time I had sex, it was with my stepson, David, and it was passionate. My body heats up just thinking about how David touched me, and I don’t feel any guilt or shame. Not about fucking my stepson, and not about taking money to fuck this stranger, Rick. I let the new heat flushing my skin course through my veins and push me forward to seducing Rick even better.

  I lean into Rick’s neck, giving it a few nibbles, moving my lips and tongue a bit higher until I reach his ear, gently sucking on one lobe. I continue to stroke his chest and then his inner thighs.

  Rick excitedly reaches for my breasts. He rolls one nipple between his fingers, almost too hard and I brace myself, but then he grabs a full breast, massaging it like his life depends on it. I find myself melting into his embrace as erotic flashbacks of David touching me play out in the back of my mind.

  I begin to loosen up and let my instincts take over and my fantasies of David pull me under. I rhythmically rub Rick’s cock beneath his pants, and I can feel it swell and harden under my touch. I undo his belt.

  "How do you want it, baby?" I purr into his ear.

  Rick can barely answer manages to stammer out, "I want you on top, riding me with your pussy wrapped around my cock and squeezing it.”

  I like a man who knows what he wants. While he is old enough to be my father, I can’t help but let my thoughts of David arouse me and enjoy that a man finds me attractive.

  When Rick’s hands start to undress me, I don’t resist. He slowly unzips the back of my green dress. I can almost hear the teeth of the zipper unlocking one by one, because Rick’s movements are so slow and methodical. He begins by slipping my dress off of my shoulders, then peeling the gown to my waist, and past my hips until it falls to the floor. He then reaches for my black lace bra, unhooking the back in one movement. Once he removes the bra, my breasts spill out. No matter how old I might feel, I am proud of my breasts. They are big but not too big, round, firm, and full. Rick leans into my breasts with his mouth, carefully sucking each nipple and rolling them between his fingers until they’re taut and hard, aching to be touched more. He gives them an extra squeeze before sliding his hands down my sides, across my hips, and onto my inner thighs.

  As his hands creep closer to my pussy, I remember the condom.

  "You do have a condom, right?" I ask, keeping my voice seductive. "We need to put that on."

  Rick finishes unhooking his belt and slides his pants down to his knees in an eager rush, his hard cock stabbing out of his boxers.

  "It's next to the alarm clock," he replies. "Raspberry flavored."

  I haven’t encountered flavored condoms since the freebies I received at Planned Parenthood as a teenager. It almost makes me laugh. But killing two birds with one stone, I grab the condom, rip open the package and place it in my mouth. I walk toward Rick on my knees with my mouth slightl
y ajar, hoping he likes this little display I’m giving him. I think for $1000 he deserves more than the condom being thrown at him to use, and I’m kind of thrilled to be doing something so wrong.

  I yank down his boxers, lower my mouth to his cock, and position the condom on the tip of his cock, throbbing now with need. Slowly, I unroll the latex, partly with my lips, and then by applying more pressure with my tongue, down the shaft. Once fully unrolled, I started to suck, tugging on the skin of his balls, massaging them between my fingers, grabbing his shaft and lowering my mouth in methodical motions.

  Rick reaches for the back of my head and forces me deeper down his shaft until Rick is so hard and so deep in my mouth that I can barely hold back my gag reflex. I pull my head off his cock and look up at him, stroking my inner thighs and giving him my best fuck-me eyes. I don’t want to actually suck his cock right now, flavored condom or not.

  "I want to be inside of you so bad," he whimpers.

  "I want you in me," I reply, keeping his gaze as I slowly remove my black lace thong, the final barrier.

  "Get on top of me," Rick says. He reclines back on the electric blue couch. "Sit on my lap.”

  I walk over to Rick with a coy saunter. Lifting one heel over him, I mount him, lowering my mouth first to bite his shoulder, his neck, and his lower lip. Finally, I lowered my pussy over his cock, allowing him to enter me.

  He grasps my hips, grunting and thrusting as he rams his cock into me.

  "You're so fucking sexy," he moans. He grabs my hair, yanking it with each thrust. I grab my breasts, squeezing them together and throwing my head back for dramatic flair.

  Faster, faster, faster, Rick thrusts, and after a few quick bursts he stopped. His body relaxes into the couch, his hands dropped to his sides. "Fuck, that was good."

  I didn't come. How could I? The man didn't last long enough and this is a job. Sex with a stranger no less. But the sheer depravity of what I had done sent a thrill of pleasure up my spine. I had been desirable enough for someone to want to pay me $1000 so that I could treat him coldly, fuck him, use his bathroom, and then leave.

  I feel Rick get soft inside of me and while I don’t mind that the fucking is over, I still feel unsatisfied, and not just because I didn’t come. I dismount Rick and look around the luxurious hotel room – the height of decadence in the modern world. And here I am, a stepmother and I used to be a wife – reveling in my pure animalistic sexuality and thinking about the man I shouldn’t fuck, and want to more than anything. Accepting money from another man to sleep with him while I think about my stepson David. All to satisfy my greed for material possessions.

  I can feel my pussy begin to tingle as I think about how naughty and dirty I am being. At how I am acknowledging the sinful nature of the crimes that I am committing. It is starting to get me excited to the point that I need to do something about it. I know that I have to take matters into my own hands. Rick got what he paid for, and he’s done. The one that I want isn’t Rick, anyway.

  I walk to the bathroom and survey the toiletries—soaps, shampoos, and face soap. I decide to shower, and turned on the water to max heat, a temperature that might cleanse me of tonight but also will just add to the lust brewing within me. I let the water run over my body and feel the heightened sensation of pleasure as I run my fingers over my bare pussy.

  The man that I had fucked is long forgotten. But the act of recklessness has not. The act of bucking against society’s conventions is seared into my brain. The idea of being an actual slut is bouncing through my brain and exciting me.

  I begin to slowly massage my pussy lips. I shudder as I feel a wave of growing pleasure course through my spine.

  But wait, I think to myself. Not here. Not yet.

  Deciding to hold off on my pleasure until I’m alone, I concentrate on my shower.

  After showering, I towel dry and slip back into my green evening gown. When I return to the room, I find the old man sleeping, face down in the oversized pillows. He put his boxers back on with his socks pulled up to his knees. I detect a faint snore.

  This is when I really need a cigarette I think, despite the fact that I quit years ago. I look at the digital clock on the nightstand. It reads 12:54 a.m. It is late, way later than I ever stay up at home.

  I tap the man on the shoulder. "I have to go," I say.

  He opens his eyes and extends his hand. "Don't go," he says. "Stay a while. Order room service. It's on me."

  "Sorry, but I can't," I reply. "It's late."

  I walk over to the dresser, grab the $1,000, place it in my purse, and leave the room. There is something empowering about being used and leaving behind a man that wants more which makes me feel good. In fact, I realize that I crave more…just not from Rick. Not from anyone in particular. I want the money and the thrill.

  I can't believe it. I fuck a complete stranger and pocket $1,000 and because it thrills me, my mind begins to make future calculations. What if I do this again? I begin to wonder, and then quickly shut down those thoughts. This has to be the first and last time. I can’t just decide to become a prostitute.

  But that doesn’t stop me from feeling amazing. I fucked a guy and walked away with $1,000 cash in hand with no negative repercussions. It isn’t so bad. The sex wasn’t so good, but the experience was definitely not terrible. It could be worse. And besides, no one will ever know. This makes me feel powerful, desirable, and invincible.

  I can still hardly believe the turn of events. In just 24 hours, I, Christina Worthington, go from practicing yoga poses beside her home in the Hollywood Hills, managing a career as a hospitality events manager to, in the blink of an eye, driving to Las Vegas for a work-related hospitality convention. I am convinced by a co-worker to join her at a Vegas nightclub, and I meet a mysterious wealthy older man who asks me to sleep with him for $1,000. And beyond all conceivable conclusions, I agree to that man’s terms and go through with the deal. Could my day get any stranger?

  As if fate decided to answer me, I feel my phone vibrate the moment I step into my hotel room. I pull it out and see it is David.

  “Hey…I knew you were at your convention and I wanted to check in,” David says when I accept the FaceTime call.

  “Hey…,” I say with a smile. “Thanks for asking. I'm enjoying myself.”

  “Good,” David says. He’s looking at my cleavage in my dress and he’s not hiding the fact that he’s looking.

  I like it. I came back to my hotel room to masturbate to thoughts of him, and here he is.

  The familiar tingle I felt in the shower comes back to me and this time, I lay down on the couch, unceremoniously hiking up my dress until I am able to get two fingers massaging and stroking my pussy lips.

  David can only see my face, but he must know that I’m lying down now with less than appropriate intentions.

  I look him right in the eye and run my fingers up and down my pussy, teasing myself with how wicked this moment is.

  “Enjoying yourself,” David repeats. I know he’s onto me.

  “To thoughts of you,” I say, taking the total leap. He might dodge the innuendo, or I might get a digital assist, and right now I’m willing to take the risk.

  “Fuck, Christina,” David groans and I see his hand reach down. “My cock gets so fucking hard thinking about you. That dress is fucking stunning, but I’d love for you to take it off.”

  So David and I have passed the point of no return.

  Good. Today, I abandoned my morals. I may have started when I fucked David, but I signed the contract when another man’s cock came inside of me (in a condom) and I took $1000 for it. I came back to my room to masturbate to my stepson. Now, he’s masturbating with me.

  “Show me your cock. I wanna see you stroke it while I tell you what I wish you were here to do to me,” I say, already peeling off my dress as quickly as I can. I’m looking forward to being a sexual aggressor right now, and I don’t want to lose the filthy momentum that I seem to have.

  “Yes, fuck, god
your tits are so perfect,” David bites his lip and lowers the camera to his cock. I see his fist grip all 12 inches of throbbing cock, and already the head is glistening with pre-cum. “That lace bra needs ripping off, I wanna shred it off you with my teeth.” David pumps his cock harder.

  But I’ve got more. “Yeah, I want that. I want you to do the same with the little panties. I want you to pull them off me with one hand and shove them in my mouth, and make me taste how wet my pussy is because I want to fuck my stepson.” I lower the camera and show him my panties. I reveal the soaking wet triangle and push it aside to show him my bare pussy.

  “Fuck, Christina, god, your fucking pussy is so perfect. Do you wish I was rubbing this fat cock all over it?” He groans. “Ramming it inside you,” he adds.

  I’m panting. This is so fucking wrong, but all I feel is lust. All I want is to be filthier, nastier, and to come with my stepson while he watches me. I want him to come, too. I’m so turned on now that my pussy actually aches for release.

  “Baby, you’re breathing so hard,” David says.

  “So are you, stroking that big cock. Fuck, you felt so good inside of me,” I pant, locking eyes with him. “Yes, I want that cock rammed up inside me. I want your balls slapping my ass while you fuck me so hard I can’t breathe,” I say and I can barely breathe right now just thinking about him. Thinking about how he fucked me, thinking about how I wish David was fucking me right now, and thinking about how dirty what we're doing right now is. I see his cock twitch in his palm and I'm aching to be filled by him. I want to tell him every dirty thought I've ever had. It is like the floodgates have been unleashed — not just in my brazen dirty talk, but in how wet my pussy is.

  "You're so fucking wet. I want to lick your pussy and fuck it so hard," David says, his breathing ragged now. I see how hard his cock is and he squeezes it tighter. "Fuck, I'm gonna fucking come, fuuuck," he groans, and he pulls the phone back so that he doesn't come right on the screen, but there's a few pearlescent smears on the camera because the hot jets of cum he's spurting are just too much for him to have moved fast enough.