by Bonnie Dee
Monica exhaled and murmured, “God, I can’t believe this is happening.”
He sat on the edge of the bed and reached for the waistband of her skirt. In moments he had taken off the rest of her clothes and tossed them aside. Cool air and Ryan’s hot eyes caressed her nude body. Her flesh burned feverishly from head to toe.
He smoothed his hands up and down her thighs, moving a little higher with each stroke. “You’re beautiful.”
His eyes glittered in the candles’ glow. She might be paying him to make love to her, but the desire in his eyes was real and at that moment, Monica felt beautiful. Maybe it was weak of her to need a man’s approving gaze to grant her beauty. A person was supposed to be confident in her own inner beauty and all that. But it certainly didn’t hurt her ego to hear Ryan praise her.
He nudged her legs apart and crawled between them, lowering his face to her pussy. She reclined against her pillows and watched him breathe her in, her heart beating so hard she feared it might burst through her chest. And then he leaned and kissed across her twitching belly and over her quivering thighs. He nibbled and kissed all around her neatly trimmed pussy, making her throb with the desire for touch.
She arched her hips and whimpered in frustration, but he continued his evasive dance until she finally begged, “Please.”
Ryan smiled as he parted her folds to reveal her clit. He licked it with a slow stroke of his tongue, then another, before descending lower and delving deep into her cleft. Monica jerked and cried out at the sensual assault. It had been so long since a man had touched her down there. His tongue was amazing, incredible, as he returned to flicking it over her clit. She wanted more. She wanted everything.
Ryan worked his finger inside her, crooking it and massaging while still lapping her clit. She rose into his hand and mouth, following his lead as she had when they’d danced. Already she felt herself spiraling up higher and higher.
“Right there. Yes!” She bucked up hard, convulsing. Her cry resounded through the quiet room. Her body twitched as waves of bliss slowly receded. Her chest heaved until breathing slowed and finally she lay still.
Ryan kissed her mound and slid up her body to look down into her eyes. “Was that good?”
“That was ... unbelievable. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” His voice was husky, eyes burning with heat and hunger. His cock brushed against her clit and a fresh wave of tingles erupted. “Do you want more?”
She suddenly realized she must let him know what she wanted before he would go farther. Her pussy yawned, aching to be filled. “Yes. Please, go on.”
He groaned quietly and the hair on her nape rose. She reached out for him and pulled him down for a kiss. He tasted of her, musky and rich and his body slid over hers, cock bumping against her entrance.
Ryan pulled away. “Just a second.” He rolled to the side, reached over the edge of the bed for his jeans and produced a condom. After he’d put it on, he glanced at Monica. “Do you prefer to be on top?”
“No. This is good.” She reached for him again, pulling him back over her. She sighed as his warm, heavy body blanketed her. “It feels so nice.”
“Good.” His expression was intent, a slight frown creasing his brow as he reached between them and guided his cock to her opening. When he pushed inside, he closed his eyes and exhaled.
Monica felt needed and wanted to earn more of his sighs and groans. Tilting her pelvis, she grabbed his ass and urged him deeper. She sighed her own satisfaction as he filled her. Sliding her hands up his back, she marveled at the strength coursing through his tense muscles.
His weight was braced on his arms, biceps corded as he rocked against her. He moved in and out slowly, filling her in deep, satisfying ways no vibrator could equal, then pulling almost all the way out before thrusting again. His thick cock stretched her with every stroke, and he slowly gained speed, building urgency in her. The shimmers of her orgasm were still lying in her like shiny scattered bits of mercury which began to coalesce again.
Monica gripped his cock inside and arched to meet him on each thrust. She’d never been able to achieve an orgasm without oral stimulation, but now she felt something beginning to blossom. With every thrust, he hit a place deep within her that made her whimper. Ryan’s slow pumping became hard pounding, and his groans grew louder as he lost himself in her.
Like a tightly clenched fist, her desire unfurled finger by finger until the fist became a hand that was open and reaching out to grasp for something. This time when ecstasy broke inside her it was subtle and deep rather than the sharp intensity of her earlier orgasm. Her body clenched around Ryan, both inside and out and she felt the pulsing shudders as he came, too. She clung to him, her arms and legs grappled around him while passion coursed through them.
When those precious moments were over, Ryan collapsed onto her, resting his head against her breast. Monica stroked his hair, damp with sweat.
He pressed his lips to the side of her breast. “Thank you.”
This is afterglow, she thought. She’d either never felt it before or it had been so long since last time that she’d forgotten what it felt like. She wanted to lie here drowsing with him forever.
The word brought her sharply back to reality. This was not a forever situation, but a one time only deal. Her bliss dissipated and she was left feeling sad and empty. While still holding Ryan’s warm body in her arms, she could already feel him gone.
“Shall I stay a while or would you rather I leave?” he asked after a moment.
She wanted to wake with him in the morning, but time was literally money. She tried not to think how much a little post-coital cuddling might cost her. “It’s up to you.”
“I’m in no hurry. I’ll hang here a while if you don’t mind.” He paused then added, “No charge.”
“Please stay,” Monica said.
Chapter Four
In the early dawn, Ryan got up and dressed. He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned to kiss Monica’s shoulder. He brushed her hair back from her temple. “Thanks for making my first time so easy. Ask for me again.”
“I should see you out,” she murmured sleepily.
“I can find the way and I’ll lock up behind me. Sleep.” He rose and walked away, pausing in the doorway for one last look at her dark, tousled head on the pillow.
Sweet, pretty woman. Why was she reduced to hiring a date? But the agoraphobia issue kind of answered that.
Driving home from her house on nearly empty streets, his chest felt tight and constricted like the time he’d had pneumonia. Sleeping with Monica had been a very pleasant gig so why did gloom envelop him like the early morning fog?
Ryan entered his apartment and it seemed smaller, shabbier and colder than ever. When he flipped on the light, cockroaches skittered away to their dark holes. He tossed his keys on the table, shrugged out of his jacket, took a leak and rinsed his face in the bathroom sink then toppled into bed still clothed.
He stared at the spider web of cracks in the ceiling plaster and relived his first experience as a gigolo--hustler, whore, prostitute, fuck-toy. He had actually just had sex for money, sex with a woman who, under normal circumstances, he would call for a second date. He liked Monica. She was funny, a little quirky and completely adorable. He’d like to know her better and see her again. That was something he’d never expected when taking on this job.
“What the fuck? Grow up,” he snarled, stripping off his shirt and throwing it on the floor. He couldn’t lie here mooning about this woman. He had to get some sleep, wake up and squeeze in study time before his morning class. After that he had to make time to visit to Rose Arbor and see Gram. He hadn’t been in over two weeks what with work, school and his ailing Jeep.
He burrowed under the covers and squeezed his eyes shut, but his mind still raced. After visiting Gram he had to go to his phone sex job, which he hadn’t quit until he knew whether Labors of Love would pay off. Every second of every day was packed. Something was going to have to
give and he was damned if he’d let it be his college courses. At this rate it was going to take him years to get the Bachelor of Architecture degree he coveted.
Ryan covered his head with the pillow trying to stop his whirling thoughts. Maybe he should get a union card and work construction full time, give up on college and accept his blue-collar place in the world. At least then he could have some pride in his work instead of being ashamed of it.
He threw the pillow across the room where it bounced off the dresser and crawled out of bed to pad barefoot into the living room. He sat on the couch with his laptop warming his lap and opened his CAD program.
*
Bright morning light filtered through the living room blinds, highlighting the obituary section of the newspaper. Monica stared at it blindly as she walked on her treadmill. Her body may be getting exercise, but her mind was on her workout with Ryan last night.
The phone rang, interrupting her memories of sliding bodies and panting breaths, groans and sighs and whispers, and the slow deep thrust of his body into hers. Monica jerked and slowed her steps on the treadmill until it stopped before going to answer the phone.
“What were you doing last night?” Lisa asked without a greeting.
“What?” Monica flashed back to Ryan’s mouth on her pussy, his strong arms braced on either side of her, his cock moving inside her, and his face grimacing in bliss. “Uh, what?”
“Monica! I mean, why was your phone off the hook? I was trying to call all evening. What do you think about Mom and Dad’s plan to go to Hawaii? It’s way too expensive. We shouldn’t let them pay for our tickets, but doesn’t it sound like fun? This might be just what I need to get past all that crap with Steve. But it won’t be any fun if you don’t go too. Monica, you have to at least think about it. If you have some intensive sessions with Dr. Brewer, don’t you think you could get better? Like Mom says, you should begin by going outdoors again. Take it in baby steps.”
“You’ve been talking to Mom about me?”
“Think about it, Monica,” her sister used that wheedling tone she’d applied whenever she was determined to get her way. “You’ve had panic attacks ever since middle school but it wasn’t until after college when you had that horrible job you hated and Carl who treated you like shit, that you began freaking out every time you went out in public. Pretty soon you couldn’t even go to the mall with me and then you drew in like a turtle in a shell until you weren’t going anywhere.”
“Yeah. I know. Lived it,” Monica snapped. “Don’t need to be reminded.”
“The point is, if we work back in the opposite direction, you might get better again. You should aim for going to Barb’s shower. She’s our cousin. She’d love to see you and you wouldn’t have to stay long. Five minutes tops. Long enough to show Barb you cared enough to show up for her. Won’t you try?”
“I’ll think about it.”
“I know you’re just trying to get me off your back. Come on, Monica, you can’t live like this forever and you know it. Aren’t you ready for a change?”
Visions of the previous night flashed in Monica’s mind. “I said I’ll think about it. Stop pushing.”
“Well, that’s something.” Lisa had the grace to drop it after that. She filled Monica in on her impressions of their cousin’s fiancé.
After a while, Monica made an excuse to end the conversation. She hung up and thought about her talks with Mom and Lisa. Both of them were giving her the hard press. Baby steps, they said. But they had no idea she’d taken a giant step last night by having sex with a stranger. Talk about really stepping outside the box.
Maybe it was time to see if she could physically step outside as well.
She walked through the kitchen to the back door and paused with her hand on the knob. She drew a deep breath and opened the door.
A brisk breeze swept inside.
Monica stepped onto the back step and inhaled. Her pulse was steadily drumming but no stabbing bursts of fear clanged like cymbals. So far so good.
She stepped down onto the patio, the flat stones overgrown with grass. The weed-covered square that used to be her garden sent a pang of remorse through her. She used to tend it so faithfully, but now weeds were the only lush plants to fill the space.
She ventured a few steps into the yard, walking toward the garden plot. Her synapses clamored from all the foreign input of a new environment. It had been so long since she’d been outdoors that every sight, smell and sound was fresh and new. The dirt beneath her feet was rich and loamy. Exhaust fumes wafted from passing automobiles and the sweeter exhaust of someone’s dryer, smelled of fabric softener sheets.
So many small sounds mingled into one loud cacophony--bird calls, traffic noises, distant sirens, barking dogs and muffled televisions or radios. The wind raised goose bumps on her arms and she shivered as she wrapped her arms around her body.
Monica took another deep breath, enjoying the liberating sensation of simply standing outdoors in her own backyard. She paced the perimeter of her garden, remembering what it felt like to dig in the soil under the hot summer sun. And then abruptly, for no discernable reason, the wonderful feeling of freedom was overwhelming.
Her pulse sped up as the sense of the hugeness of the world engulfed her. She felt as if she’d sprinted down the block and back in seconds flat her heart was pounding so hard. She gasped for breath and despite the breeze, felt as if there was no air.
Recognizing her symptoms, she headed toward the house. Breathe slow, breathe steady, she mentally chanted, matching action to thought. Keep it together, Monica.
She would control her body and not let her body control her. But by the time she reached the house and slammed the door behind her she was shaking. She crumpled to her knees.
Her therapist, who specialized in anxiety disorders, had explained that although her condition was psychological, the symptoms were very real on a physical level. He’d explained she was genetically pre-disposed to anxiety attacks, as were sufferers of bi-polar syndrome or obsessive-compulsive disorder. Knowing that, didn’t make it any easier when people gave her the impression they thought she was an over-dramatic hypochondriac.
Monica sat with her forehead pressed to her knees until the waves of anxiety subsided, and then she began to cry--for the debilitating fears that kept her imprisoned in her house, for the loss of close personal relationships and for the game of make-believe she’d played with Ryan last night. She’d felt so happy in his company and deeply fulfilled by the sex. For a short time, it had been possible to imagine their connection was real.
But it wasn’t. She’d paid for his services and now she was alone again. The joy of those brief hours with Ryan only made the absence of it worse. She almost wished she’d never had the experience.
Almost.
Ask for me again. His parting words drifted through her mind.
Ryan was only a phone call away. But she couldn’t hire him again, could she? Her budget wouldn’t stand it and, she was afraid, neither could her heart.
*
Ryan turned into the drive of Rose Arbor that afternoon with a heavy heart. As much as he loved Gram, this was a depressing way to spend the afternoon. She didn’t recognize him at all any more. He tried to show her pictures from her photo album, but she batted it out of his hand and started yelling about Andrew, who had stolen her baseball mitt. He had no idea if it was some childhood memory or completely invented paranoia. The doctor was still working on finding the right combination of meds to keep Gram calm but not catatonic.
He stayed for an hour talking to her as if she still understood him, reminiscing about incidents in their life together. By the time he left, she seemed calmer, gazing at the wall as though looking out a window.
He kissed the papery skin of her cheek and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Bye, Gram. I’ll be back to visit soon.”
He was walking through the door when she called after him, “Ryan, feed the cat before you go out on your date. He won’t feed hi
mself and you were the one who wanted to get the damn thing.”
Ryan grinned, happy that she’d recognized him even if the memory was from the past. “Yes, ma’am.”
Traffic was a bear as he drove across town and he was later for his job at the call center. His supervisor, Bruce, reprimanded him before Ryan slid into the cubicle next to Jeannie. Her calls were always entertaining so he listened to her for a moment as he adjusted his earpiece.
“Oh, yeah, baby. I’m feelin’ it now. Your big, hard cock stuffed right up inside my hot, wet pussy. You fill me till it hurts you’re so big. I never had such a huge, fucking prick in all my life. I’m ridin’ you like a horse now, boy. Up and down so hard. Giddy up, you big stud.”
She waved at Ryan then continued polishing her fingernails.
“You want me to suck it instead? No problem. I’d do anything for you, baby. I want to be your sex toy, do everything to please you. Should I should call you Master? All right then, Master, I get down on my knees and beg you to give me a taste of your meat. But you tell me I’ve been a naughty girl and I have to beg harder if I want to suck you. I’m crying now, baby, telling you I can’t live without it. I need your hard, hot cock in my mouth right now or I’ll die. Then you finally let me take a taste and it’s so good--salty and sweet. I gobble your head then suck your whole huge cock into my mouth ‘til it’s halfway down my throat, gagging me. And then I suck and suck...”
Ryan grinned. Jeannie could keep up a constant stream of talk as long as it took to make her customer come. The longer the call, the more money they made, and Jeannie was an old pro at keeping clients on the phone.
Ryan tried to get comfortable in the crappy old office chair. He pulled one of his texts from his backpack hoping to get in some study time, which Bruce allowed as long as it didn’t interfere with taking calls. Afternoons weren’t as busy as late night, but a surprising number of calls came in at all times of day. Just as he was about to accept his first call, Ryan’s personal phone rang.
