by Sebastian Ex
I slide my jeans down and sit on the closed toilet lid. Closing my eyes, I can’t get away from the blazing blue eyes of the hot waitress at the café – the way her tits strained beneath her shirt, and how her mouth curved in such a sensual way.
The pre-cum is already forming on the tip of my hardened cock, just enough to lubricate my right hand. Gently, I grip my hard-on and start stroking the shaft.
I imagine the waitress on her knees, mouth open as I hold her gaze and her long lashes fluttering up at me as she licks her lips.
“Finger your pussy, babe,” I say, encouraging her as her supple lips wrap around me. Her hand slips beneath her skirt and she presses two fingers inside her wet and desperate pussy.
The thumb of my left hand begins to roll over the head of my cock, rimming the slit as more pre-cum leaks out. My right hand grips the shaft more tightly and masterfully I stroke up and down.
I see Ella walk into the storeroom where the waitress eagerly awaits my cum. “Can I join in?” she asks as she kneels beside the waitress.
“Of course, little kitten,” I murmur. My cock is swelling in my hand.
“You’re so sexy,” the waitress says, smiling, and leans over to kiss Ella. Ella’s tongue peeks out as she sweetly licks the waitress’s lips.
The girls kiss. I weave one of my hands in each one’s hair as I encourage them to keep kissing. “Take her tit out, Ella and suck on her nipple,” I instruct. My voice comes out in a throaty croak.
Obediently, Ella bends her head. The waitress offers her enhanced tits to Ella. Ella sucks one of her nipples and the waitress arches her back to push it into Ella’s mouth.
I open my eyes to see I’m stroking my cock fast and hard.
I watch Ella as she devours the waitress. “Take your fingers out of your pussy and let Ella lick them clean.” The waitress stops riding her fingers and offers them to Ella. Ella hums as she tastes the waitress from her own fingers.
“Can I suck you, Matt?” Ella asks sweetly. When I nod, her mouth seals over my cock, and she begins to suck, bobbing her head rapidly. Her tongue curls around the tip, probing the slit as she tastes me and takes me in her full pink lips.
My left hand fists in her hair, while I cup her around the nape of her neck with my right hand. She moans as I thrust savagely into her mouth. Saliva escapes from the corners of her mouth as I use her for my own pleasure. Skillfully, her scorching tongue licks the underside of my cock then moves lower to draw both of my balls into her hot, wet mouth.
“I’m gonna come,” I groan.
I open my eyes and grab for the toilet paper to shoot my load into. My heart’s beating fast and I just sit for a moment thinking how much I wanted that fantasy to be true. Not so much the waitress, but how much I’d love to see Ella completely submit to me, to have her on her knees and begging me to use her for her and my pleasure.
I clean up and go wash my hands.
The fantasy is still dancing merrily in my mind. A beautiful Ella, poised and refined as she waits on her knees for me.
I leave the restroom and go to the café to grab a coffee before I go to retrieve Ella from the salon.
My iPhone battery is almost dead, only because I’ve been searching the net trying to find any information I can about Ella. But with what I suspect is a fake surname, and virtually nothing else to go on, I’m pretty much wasting my time. I call a tow truck and give the driver directions to her car, telling them to deliver it to the club’s parking lot.
As I walk back into the salon, I look for Ella but I don’t see her anywhere. “Ella,” I call for her.
“She’s in the back getting her eyebrows waxed. She won’t be too long. Please take a seat,” says the stylist who cut Ella’s hair.
“Why don’t I go ahead and pay? That way we can leave when she’s through.”
“Sure.” We both walk over to the cash register and a sales assistant rings it up. “It comes to eighty-five dollars.”
“Before I pay, can you also add some of whatever shampoo and other stuff you used in her hair? And do you sell hairdryers and whatever else she may need?” The sales assistant smiles at me, and gets an armful of things Ella may need.
“The total now comes to two hundred and twenty-three dollars.” I hand over my credit card, she scans it, I sign the slip and I sit back down to wait for her.
I grab a chick magazine and mindlessly flick through it. My God, what is this shit women read? Who cares who’s pregnant, who’s lost ten pounds, and who’s broken up with their partner? I feel like I’ve just killed some brain cells, and all I’ve done is flick through a stupid magazine.
“I’m ready,” says Ella as she stands in front of me.
I look up, and I’m speechless. She looks stunning. Her hair is cut and it has some red highlight shit in it, her eyebrows aren’t horrible and bushy anymore and she looks lovely. “You look gorgeous,” I blurt, not even bothering to hide what I think of her.
“It’s the haircut.” She hides her face.
“Yeah I know.” She cringes. Man, don’t I feel like a dick. “But it’s also you.” I try to correct what I said before Ella retreats into the quiet little kitten she was originally.
“What’s that?” She points to one of the two bags sitting beside me on the ground.
“I nearly forgot them because I was stunned by how beautiful you look. A hairdryer, shampoo and conditioner.”
She leans over to me and whispers, “But it’s expensive here. I could’ve gotten cheap shampoo from Walmart.”
“Again, you’re concerning yourself with something which is none of your business. If I want to buy you these things, I will. You don’t control me, or the way I spend my money. Understand?” She nods her head and holds out her hand. “What?” I ask.
“I’ll carry the bags. You’ve done more than enough to help me, it’s the least I can do.”
I shoo her hand away, roll my eyes, and we leave the store. “Let’s go. We still have to go to Walmart, and you need to cook us lunch and get ready so we can go to work. And…” I look at my watch and notice we’re running behind schedule. “We only have five hours to do that all in. Oh, I also called a tow truck to go get your car and take it back to the club. I’ll have my mechanic drop in to see what can be done to fix it.”
“Thank you…for everything you’ve done.”
I look at her over my shoulder as we head toward the car and I see it. Right then, her expressive brown eyes are speaking volumes, the words of gratitude tumbling from them. She’s desperate to let go, to finally allow her walls to crumble, tired of hiding behind the barriers she’s built.
Her eyes tell such an intense story of hurt and betrayal. It’s all there, behind the brown, deep inside her soul.
Seven
“You banging her?” Brandon asks as we sit in the VIP section and have a drink.
“Who?”
“The new girl, Ellen.”
“Ella,” I correct him.
“You’re not banging her, but you want to, right?”
“What are you talking about?” Tony the choreographer has changed the show around, dropped some things he said weren’t working and added things he thinks will work. Tonight’s the first night the new show goes live, and when Tony does change things, Brandon and I watch it. The worst thing we can do is leave total control to Tony. This is Brandon’s and my club, and if we don’t like the entertainment, Tony had better go back to the drawing board.
In saying that, Tony’s only ever given us shit twice since he came to work for us. Each time, we told him we hated it, he defended his choices, and in the end, he changed it. Tony’s incredibly talented. He’s choreographed for movies and stage shows. We know the quality of his work, so we really don’t need to micromanage him. But ultimately, this is our club and we want to make sure it runs smoothly from the stage, to the bar, to the cleaning crew.
I oversee most of those components. Brandon trusts me, and knows I won’t do anything that will cause issues.
Brandon Edwards has been my best friend since we were seniors in high school. He was the brainy guy who was good at sports, I was the brainy guy who was wild, reckless, and good with women. We formed a friendship the night we discovered at a party that we were both fucking the same chick.
It came to blows, and we exchanged punches. I had a broken nose; we both had a few bruises. But we ended up agreeing the girl wasn’t worth the argument she’d probably set up in the first place.
Instead, we agreed to fuck her together, and then dump her ass. She sucked me while Brandon pounded into her pussy. Her entire body was bobbing up and down, and she was enjoying Brandon’s cock so much she could barely concentrate on giving me head.
I knew she loved to be butt-fucked, so we switched it around. I sat on the bed, and she lowered her ass onto my lubed-up cock, and I held her legs open with mine so Brandon could fuck her pussy. It was the first time I’d had a threesome, and although Brandon and I were teenagers and didn’t really know what we were doing, we still had fun.
After we both came, we left her on the bed and went back to my place. I grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and we drank. Mom and Dad were asleep, so they had no idea about the beer. Since then, Brandon and I have enjoyed a strong friendship. We trust each other like brothers, and we’ve got each other’s backs.
Do we fuck each other? Hell no, we’re not bi. But we certainly like to fuck a woman (and sometimes more than one woman) together.
“The girl, the one you can’t take your eyes off,” Brandon says, bringing me back to the here and now.
“I’m watching the show.”
“Like hell you are. Your eyes haven’t left her the entire time she’s been out there.”
“You know what I was thinking about?”
“Avoiding the question. Nice one, dickhead.”
“I was thinking about the first time we fucked that chick from school together. What was her name? Ashley? Angela? Whatever.”
“God, yes, I remember her. Man, she was a lousy lay.”
“I know. We were pretty lame back then, too.” I lift my glass and find it’s empty. I barely look around to summon whoever’s on duty tonight when Dianne is already standing beside me.
“Sir, your Ardbeg Scotch. Mr. Edwards, I have another beer for you.”
“No more for me, thanks Dianne. Just bring me a club soda,” Brandon says as he hands her his empty beer bottle.
“Not drinking?” I ask. “You going to see Penny after we close?”
He shakes his head. “Nope, she’s coming here. Wanna stick around so we can enjoy her together?”
My eyes go to Ella who’s clearing empty martini glasses from a table. She looks up to see me staring at her and I see a small smile turn up the corners of her glossy pink lips. “Nah, I’m going to take Ella home.”
“So you are screwing her?”
“No, nothing like that.” My eyes remain glued to Ella. I sit back and bring my ankle up to my opposite knee. I can’t help but watch her, the way her body moves, how her hips sway slightly as she pirouettes on the spot to reach for another table. “She’s living with me.”
“What the hell? Living with you? When did this all happen?”
“Long story, but basically she’s my live-in housekeeper and cook.”
“No chance that’s all she is. Brother, you wanna fuck her. I can see it in the way you’re watching her.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“Yeah, right. Then stay tonight and let’s show Penny what we can do.”
“Not interested, my friend. Not interested.”
“Your cock not working?”
“It’s working fine.” Damn it, it’s working too well. I’m always hard around Ella.
“What do you see in her? She’s skinny and skittish. Not your usual type at all.”
I look at her again, but now she’s walking toward the kitchen with all the dirty dishes and glasses. “I like her.” I don’t tell him I have a feeling she’s in some kind of trouble, because it’s not my story to tell.
“Well.” Brandon stands and claps a hand to my shoulder. “If you change your mind, Penny will be here in half an hour. I may use your office. I’d like to lay her out tied to a desk, and mine’s too messy.” He walks away with a smirk.
“I’m locking my door so you can’t pollute my office with your cum.”
He throws his head back in a laugh, raises a hand over his shoulder and gives me our brotherly greeting and universal signal to go fuck myself.
I keep watching the show, and a few moments later, Ella’s standing beside me. I reach for her, so I can wrap my arm around her hips and draw her close to me and have her sit on my lap. I want to touch her, to run my hands down her body and have her arch into my hand, wanting the feel of them on her body as much as I want to touch her.
“Can I get your glass, Matt?” she asks as she reaches for my tumbler.
“I’m not finished yet, but sit. I need to talk to you about your car.”
“What’s happening with my car?”
“It’s a piece of shit. My mechanic came and took a look at it. He says it’ll cost more to fix than it’s worth.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Lots of stuff, but the main problem is that you cracked the engine by not putting water or oil in it.”
“That doesn’t sound too good.”
“That’s because it’s not. You’ll need a new car.”
Her shoulders slump forward and she looks off into the distance blankly. “I can’t afford a new car. I could barely afford to feed myself. In fact, I don’t feed myself; you do.”
“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.” As she leans over to pick up Brandon’s empty glass, her leg brushes up against mine. Ella swings her head around to look at me, and my gaze goes to where we’re touching. It’s like they say in those stupid romantic books women go crazy for. Instant electricity where our legs touch.
Ella looks at me once again, and when I go to move my hand to put it on hers, she jumps back and shakes her head at me. “No way,” she says, picking up her serving tray and walking away.
Eight
Ella’s been living with me for three weeks. She been cooking and keeping the penthouse clean when she’s not at work.
The best part is, I make sure she has dinner then dessert, and now her face doesn’t look so gaunt and angular. She’s got attractive color in her cheeks, her hair looks amazing and she actually looks healthy.
And since that night in the club, Brandon has been relentlessly trying to get me to play with him and Penny. The problem is whenever I think of fucking Penny, it does nothing for my cock.
I’m sitting in my study going over last month’s figures Brandon sent through, when I can sense Ella. She’s super quiet. She’s slowly opening up to me in the smallest of ways, but the other thing I’ve loved most about the last three weeks is she’s smiling more than she was when I first met her.
“Matt, look at this,” she calls at me from the doorway.
“I’m busy. What is it?” I say as I continue to look over the figures.
“Here.” She’s come in to stand beside me and the top button of her jeans which won’t reach the buttonhole. Her shirt’s pulled up, and I can see the gorgeous expanse of her flat tummy. But there are scars on her stomach too, old ones, with a faded appearance.
“What the hell is this?” I half-bark at her as I stand to my feet so quickly my office chair rolls back. “What is this?” I ask again, as I lift her t-shirt up to just below her breasts, exposing more of her stomach.
There are shiny pink lines all across it, straight welts that are now healed but are still slightly raised.
“It’s nothing,” she says as she tries to step away and lower her shirt.
Ella’s eyes are wild with an intense panic. She’s not ashamed, it’s fear.
My body reacted to seeing those scars and knowing she’d been hurt. It did something to me. The upwelling of feelings set my blood boil
ing and my heart pounding faster. If I get my hands on the fucker who marked her, I’m sure I’ll rip his fucking head off.
“Don’t run,” I say to her, trying to lower my voice so as not to upset her any more than she already is.
“Just…please.” She turns and runs down the hall, and I give chase.
The rock sitting in the pit of my stomach tells me I need to find out what’s going on with her, I’ve been patient long enough. But because of her agitated behavior, my mind warns me not to pursue her.
I’ve never been too good at listening to the voice of reason, though.
Just as I reach her room, the door slams shut, and for the first time since she’s been living here, I hear the sound of the lock as she seals herself in…or maybe, locks me out.
Afraid of losing my temper, I turn and pull my fist back and slam it into the drywall beside her bedroom door. As if that’s not stupid enough, once I’ve put my fist through the wall, I bring my fist out and smash through it again. Bits of the wall flake away and the pain lets me know I’ve hurt my hand.
“What did you do?” Ella shrieks as she opens the door. Her eyes go to my fist which has a couple of drops of blood on the knuckles, then at the wall and back to me.
“You need to tell me right now how you got those scars. Who did that to you?” I can’t hold back, my rage is rising again and I’m afraid of what I might do next.
“The ones on my stomach are a few years old.” Her eyes find the floor. I’ve noticed that about her; whenever she’s embarrassed or frightened, she avoids looking at me.
“Wait, what? The ones on your stomach? How many more scars do you have?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m safe now.”
Ella’s face blanks. Except for a hard swallow, she remains impassive to what I’ve asked and detached from her responses. I search her eyes again, and realize just how tightly she holding the lock on her past.
