He found me un-funny, chucking a pillow in my direction, but immediately climbed from the bed to shower and change. He emerged from the small bathroom in tight jeans and a snug t-shirt that provided a lovely view of his upper body. He looked fantastic and I told him so.
“For a guy pushing 30?” he asked with a snit in his voice.
I rolled my eyes, “Well yeah but guys who are 20 don’t usually look like you either. Stop being a girl.” He smiled smugly at my compliment. I was already dressed in short khakis and a white tank top. My hair was pulled through a baseball cap and I’d foregone fashion for white anklets and a pair of Nikes. Decklan shook his head at the disassembly of his hard work, earning a healthy laugh from me.
We went to breakfast and I couldn’t believe the amount of food the man ate. I was in awe. Where did it go?
We walked to the front of the hotel to catch the tram to Epcot. There were so many people and it was still warm, but we had fun. No matter what an ass he could be sometimes, we obviously made a gorgeous couple. Men and women stared openly at us. Decklan was a big kid when he was alone and not trying so hard to impress people. We enjoyed lunch in Mexico and laughed together on Spaceship Earth.
After the park, we returned to the hotel to shower and change before heading to a great jazz club with delicious Cajun cooking.
I was wearing a slinky red mini dress and “I am so gonna kill myself” heels…both of which Decklan had picked for me previously. That fact was not lost on him. I was wearing delicate jewelry accented with rubies and when he stepped behind me to fasten the necklace clasp, I broke out in goose bumps. It was a dead giveaway of my physical attraction to him and he didn’t pretend not to notice.
We enjoyed a long dinner of spicy gumbo with a dark roux and dirty rice. We talked about things we’d never talked about before and I definitely drank more than my tolerance can typically handle. I was surprised when another cab was hailed and we went dancing.
The salsa club was dimly lit. Smoke hovered in the air closest to the door and it was mixed with a scent I could closest describe as sexual. It was hot and the dance floor was packed with bodies flowing to the fast music.
Decklan pulled me to the middle of the room and paused a moment, just staring at me. When the next number started, he pulled me tight to his chest and guided me in a dance I’d known for years to the pounding and fast-paced rhythm. He was a great partner and I rarely had the chance to work a dance floor like I used to.
We were getting a lot of attention again from both genders and it was making me horny. At one point, there were men on either side of me, women on either side of him and a lot of people looking to get laid.
After a couple of hours, we excused ourselves and found barstools, where we collapsed in fits of laughter. We both shone with sweat from the grinding and sexual closeness of our multiple partners.
Once our fellow dancers realized we weren’t coming back, they’d latched onto one another greedily. Midnight causes choosy people to lower their standards for the sake of getting off. I sipped a bottle of water and Decklan drank a ‘Rita on the rocks.
We talked but he looked distracted. He was watching my chest. I looked down just in time to see one droplet of sweat disappear into my cleavage…hell, that would have turned anyone on. He was wearing linen pants and a Bahama Jack shirt that looked fantastic on him.
Linen pants do not conceal how a man might be feeling. His hard-on was obvious, I noticed it, and he didn’t care that I did. I smiled and shook my head at his boldness. It never ceased to amaze me.
Decklan occasionally smoked cigars and I asked to try one when he lit up at the bar. He watched it move to my mouth and back a couple of times before saying, “There is something so sexy about watching you smoke that.”
He leaned towards me and kissed my bare shoulder. “Other people here agree with me.” I glanced around to see several men watching me like prey and thought how predictable they all were.
We went back to dancing when they played some salsa and collapsed in a cab around two in the morning. When we got back to the hotel both of us showered and I changed into sleepwear. Decklan wore boxer briefs which confirmed almost all the details of his body I’d considered before.
I was surprised, and maybe a little disappointed, when he didn’t try to charm me into sex. We watched Terminator while Decklan teased me mercilessly for considering it a romance. He felt it was a hard core action flick and I disagreed. The whole point of the story was love and the sacrifices you made for the sake of it.
Around four, we finally drifted off to sleep.
The sun was just peeking through the hotel blinds when he awakened to the sensation of my mouth wrapped around his cock. Who the hell was I kidding? I climbed between his legs, pulled down his boxers, and slowing circled the head of a member that was practically perfect in every way.
His eyes opened drowsily as the first droplets of pre-come appeared at the tip. They were riveted on me as I began licking up one side and down the other of his rock hard dick. When I took the head and a good portion of the shaft into my warm mouth, he sighed and clutched the sheet beneath him in white-knuckled fists.
I find fellatio to be the most erotic act a woman can perform on a man. It is also a complete power trip. I took his dick to the back of my throat, using my tongue to caress the underside as I sucked it. I held all the power and I loved it.
I played and explored for a while before getting serious, and when I did, I moved Decklan’s hand to the back of my head so he could set the rhythm. His fist tangled in my hair and he pumped into me with his hips as he applied pressure to the back of my head.
His lips barely formed the words, “Oh my god, Sarah.”
I had to trust Decklan to allow this and it was strange that I did. To let him fuck me in the mouth at his own pace and strength was very intimate and I was shocked when he didn’t abuse the privilege. I felt him starting to come and began massaging his balls to get more of a reaction.
His upper body rose off the bed as he exploded into my mouth, his abs going rock hard. I sucked faster and harder, milking every drop of come from him. I lifted my head, wiped a drop of come from the corner of my lips, and licked it from my fingers with a smile.
After he climbed down from the ceiling, he returned the favor. Men perform oral sex so differently than women, though both feel fantastic. I love to watch anyone’s head between my legs but Decklan was better than most men at paying attention to what was going on down there. He licked me like an ice cream cone he wanted to savor. He took his time and looked like he truly enjoyed it; not as if he was just doing what he thought he had to.
We were well matched sexually. Both of us had more experience than the average person and didn’t need to perform like circus bears for one another. I was off the clock after all.
When Decklan made me come twice, I climbed astride his thighs and rolled on the condom I’d left waiting near my pillow. I lifted his cock to my pussy and settled down onto it; gradually taking him deep and feeling a strange shift in myself to have him connected to my body.
As I slowly glided up and down his cock, I realized it was sex at its’ simplest. I enjoyed the feel of him inside me and I made it last. At one point, I leaned forward and whispered, “Daisy Duke is very pleased.”
The reminder of our first meeting brought a laugh before getting my mouth attacked by his. His lips were firm and warm and it was obvious he enjoyed kissing.
He was caressing my nipples when I felt the building of my own orgasm. As I tossed my head back and dropped my arms behind my hips to the bed, he gripped me firmly and slammed himself upward, stroking into me with a force I’d rarely experienced in this position.
“Harder!” I cried softly. “Perfect…oh yes…Decklan…”
As I came, the muscles in his stomach and thighs tightened and he joined me. He was clutching my body as tightly to him as possible; his strong hands pressed into the smooth flesh of my waist. I could feel the hair on his thighs against t
he back of mine. His textures, his movements, as a man were just so different. It was something I honestly missed when I was with women.
I was relaxed. There was no planning or forethought in my movements, my words, or my responses. I took my pleasure because I knew he would take his. We were on equal footing.
Not that I faked it for my clients…I never stooped to that. I was turned on by their preferences and quirks. Still, in the deep recesses of my mind, I never forgot they were paying me to be there.
We fell asleep and woke a couple of hours later. Decklan was spooned against my back and entered me from behind, stroking in and out in a lazy rhythm. His hard hands caressed my breasts and fondled my clit until I came again. He was kissing my neck when he joined me and both of us drifted almost immediately back to sleep.
Hours later we talked while we got dressed and I packed my stuff for the trip back to South Florida. After I’d loaded it onto my bike, we walked to the small hotel diner and ordered breakfast. I ate grits and toast; he put away a stack of pancakes, bacon, sausage, four eggs, and three cups of coffee. I just didn’t get it.
He was walking me to my bike when I realized I didn’t know how he’d gotten to Orlando. When I asked where his car was, he pointed to a stunning Harley parked next to my little Honda. “You’re kidding! You drive a motorcycle? I never knew that!”
“No, I drive a 1968 Harley Sportster…there’s a difference.” He laughed at my slight offense as I checked her out. She would have been too heavy for me but she was gorgeous with an aqua blue retro paint job and chrome that glistened in the sun.
“I am duly impressed,” I said, and meant it. “She’s beautiful, Decklan.” I strapped my duffle to the back and went to grab my own helmet. I turned to meet his gaze, feeling the need to clear the air between us. “You know things can’t change between us, right?”
He looked a little regretful, but nodded. “I know. You’re nine years younger than me and nowhere near ready for a regular life…you’re having too much fun.” He ran the back of his hand along my cheek. “But you were wonderful, you’re beautiful, and I’m sorry for being such an ass.” As he leaned forward to kiss my lips, I stretched to meet him.
“Decklan, you’re nowhere near ready to settle down either but nine years isn’t that big of a deal when I already feel forty most days. And for the record, I think you’re a wonderful person, just a little arrogant.” I gave him a shrug and added, “If everyone looked as pretty as you, you wouldn’t be justified, but they don’t…you stand out. You should enjoy it.”
I kissed him aggressively before stepping back to say, “But stop obsessing about your age. You fuck like you’re eighteen and eat pussy like a lesbian…you’re good to go.” With a wink, I climbed on my bike and waited as he did the same.
We rode back to South Florida and reality.
We got near my exit and he waved as I turned off. After my mini vacation things went back to normal. Well, as normal as things ever were for someone like me. When we separated, I wasn’t sad or upset. I took my time with Decklan for what it was…a pleasure I’d been curious about for a long time.
No strings, no hard feelings, no games.
Chapter Eleven – The Bartender
November 1999
Calipatria Ciminelli was gorgeous. She was a professional female body builder and taught aerobics a couple of days a week. She’d lost her parents to cancer a couple of months apart in her teens and consequently inherited a massive trust fund she’d used to buy a house and secure her future.
A lot of people considered her lucky to which she would reply, “I’d live in a shack and happily work my ass off if I could have my parents back.”
She didn’t need to work, but she did. Flash bartending paid her every day bills. She was part of the South Beach scene, moving to the newest and hottest clubs as the previous “hot spots” faded into memory.
Bar owners wanted her because she was honest…but it didn’t hurt that she had an amazing body and won bartending competitions all over Florida, the Keys, and nearby getaway locations like Jamaica and the Bahamas. The customers didn’t just come for the booze…they came for the view.
She was 5’6” and hard from head to toe. Her breasts were reasonably sized and accentuated her tiny waist. Her chestnut hair was always plaited down her back and she had huge brown eyes and some of the longest lashes I’d ever seen.
The work attire at her current beach bar was a barely-there bikini top, tiny ass-hugging bike shorts, and sparkling white Reeboks. Brilliantly white teeth and a deep olive skin tone gave the overall impression of a beach bunny fabricated from every man’s fantasy.
When Tria contacted Vivienne originally, her specifications were very clear. She wanted someone who could handle what she liked. The escort prior to me that Vivienne sent her came back needing a chiropractor and sporting bruises on her ass. Vivienne decided to let me give it a shot.
I’m usually down for anything but I admit a little nervousness. Ezbeth hadn’t fared well with Tria, but she was a fragile thing that probably bruised if she pinched herself. I was not that way at all. I figured if it was too much, I’d let Vivienne know. But honestly, if I couldn’t take what Tria dished out, there wasn’t another escort on her staff who would be able to.
The night of our first meeting, I was expected at her house. It was a gorgeous two-story sitting on two acres of property in the middle of Davie, known in South Florida as horse country. It had a stone exterior and a huge enclosed deck in the back.
When I arrived, Katie opened the door of the car and said quietly, “Sarah, I’ll tell you honestly, this woman has a little more kink than necessary. If you need me, call me.”
I stepped out onto the cobbled drive and smiled at her, “I’ll be fine, Katie…no worries. If I don’t like it, I won’t go back.” I winked at her and straightened my top. I wore black leather pants and a lace up leather bustier snug as a second skin. I wore a pair of black boots that made me feel I could kick serious ass if the necessity arose. My hair had been straightened and pulled back in a smooth ponytail that swished against my back when I walked.
Tria answered the door in an outfit in red that matched mine. “I’m Sarah.” She looked incredibly fuckable. I was excited to see where things went but I already knew she had her game and it was played by her rules.
As her eyes caressed my entire body, she said, “Now you are more like it!” She stepped aside and unabashedly watched my ass as I entered her house. She shut the door and motioned for me to follow her to the kitchen.
“No offense, but the English Rose couldn’t handle me at all. I tried to make her feel better by easing up, but I could see how uncomfortable she was.” She capped a bottle of Corona, added a lime, and handed it to me. “You look more…capable.” I took the beer, and she smiled. “I know damn well you aren’t old enough to drink it, but it’ll hold you over until dinner. Do you like steak?”
She suddenly grabbed me around the waist and seated me on the slick granite countertop. I recovered from my shock and eyed her with more interest. She was looking more and more like a sexual and physical equal every second.
“Are you kidding? I was raised on a cattle ranch in Northeast Texas. Beef is hard to find that compares.” I took a sip from the bottle and watched her curves as she moved around the kitchen.
The bustier accentuated her hard stomach and I could see the amazing tone of her legs. She didn’t have an ounce of spare fat anywhere on her, and I appreciated a tight female body that didn’t look masculine.
“I have my beef delivered from a butcher out of Fort Worth. I always appreciate a good piece of meat and there are too damn many vegetarians around anymore.” She laughed as she prepared a fresh salad and mixed her own vinaigrette.
I was thrilled. She was comfortable cooking and I was impressed with her skills. “That looks delicious. Can I help with anything?”
She brought the glass salad bowl over and set it on the counter. “No help with anything yet. I just like h
aving your ass on my counter.” She pulled a casserole dish filled with roasted potatoes, garlic, and onion from the broiler and placed rib eyes on the inside grill.
The beer she was drinking gone, she took a sip from my bottle, and then leaned in to kiss me. We tasted like Corona, still my favorite beer. Ours was a firm kiss, not soft like many women enjoyed. She kissed like a man and it had an immediate effect on me.
Tria ran her nails up my leathered thigh. “This outfit is amazing. I didn’t think Vivienne would find what I wanted so quickly.” Her nail traced a line up my hip, my stomach, and along the underside of my breast. “You’re perfect in it.” She continued over my cleavage, made even more substantial with the bustier. “I want to feed you my favorite meal then swim naked in my pool…think you’ll enjoy that?”
I nodded and firmly caressed her nipple, pinching it hard through the fabric. Her look was priceless…like dinner might have to wait.
Tria stared at me for a long moment before stepping away and rubbing her hands together. “No, I need to eat. I’m training for competition and have to eat when my body tells me.”
As she made to turn away, she returned and stepped between my legs, grabbed my face in her hands, and kissed me again. She was even more demanding this time. My fist closed around a fistful of her hair, and I held her tight against me. She moaned and moved away again. Her eyes were half closed and filled with desire.
“Oh, yes. You are precisely what I’m looking for. You take exactly what you want, just like me. We’re going to have the most amazing time.”
When the steaks were a beautiful medium-rare, we took our plates out to her terrace. We ate to the sounds of crickets in her back yard. She never took her eyes off me. The food was phenomenal and her cleavage hovering above her plate was the perfect view.
After we finished eating, we sat and talked, sipping another beer and getting to know one another. Don’t get me wrong, my clients realized I was a call girl, and I certainly never forgot that fact. But most women like to get to know the people they’re fucking…even if they’re paying for it. Tria was no exception.
In the Service of Women Page 10
