by L. L. Ash
“You just can’t make fun of me and my bags,” she told me, beginning to wipe off the mascara and eyeliner.
I watched her as she figuratively and literally dropped the wall of perception around her. My experience with women told me one very clear thing regarding makeup, and it was that they judged their beauty on it. Evidently, they didn’t see the beauty in simplicity with the skin, eyes and lashes they were born with.
But I did.
And when Adele turned around from the mirror, all shy and embarrassed, all I saw was a goddess.
“You are beautiful,” I whispered to her, taking her clean, fresh face in my hands again.
Her lips popped open in surprise and I couldn’t help it. I had to lean down and kiss her.
The kiss surprised her further, but she let me do it. She let me have that moment of purity between us.
“You’re going to make me cry,” she laughed tearfully as I pulled away from her again.
“If that makes you cry, then no man has ever truly given you what you deserve, malishka.”
“And I suppose you will?”
“If you’ll let me,” I murmured, stealing another taste of her lips before backing away, pulling my suit coat off my shoulders.
“Do you really sleep in the nude?” she asked, following me to the bedroom again.
“Sometimes,” I nodded, draping my jacket over the back of a chair and going for the buttons of my shirt next.
“It’s still early,” she said after a minute, watching every movement of my fingers as I undressed.
“What do you have in mind?” I asked, feeling a spark of hope that maybe she’d changed her mind and wanted to have sex after all.
It’d sure do a number on helping me gain normalcy back. She had me on a tightrope, holding off from me all this time.
“Maybe we could watch a movie or something?” she questioned instead of stated.
“Get it going,” I agreed simply and slipped my shoes off before dropping my slacks.
Her eyes fluttered from the TV to my always interestingly printed underwear.
“Do you always wear characters on your boxers?” she asked with a grin.
“I may be a grown up, and I may fuck for a living, but there is nothing in this world that will make me turn to simple, bland, solid print underwear.”
Adele laughed as I winked at her, then turned back to picking a movie.
Shedding my socks too, I crawled into her big bed and sighed as whatever amazing mattress she had cradled my hard body like a cloud.
“How about this?” she asked, glancing at me over her shoulder.
“Sure,” I agreed, not even bothering to tear my eyes off her silhouette long enough to see what she was talking about.
Sound started from the TV and she moved back, settling in beside me against the plush headboard.
“Thanks for being here with me,” she whispered.
“I don’t want to be anywhere else,” I admitted, digging my nose into her hair.
It smelled amazing.
Adele watched the movie and I watched her, even as she fell asleep before it was even over.
Sometimes it sucks getting old. Luckily she had me to tuck her in and turn the TV off for her.
Settling her into the mattress beside me, I slipped one leg between hers and pulled her into me until her cheek was flush against my chest.
I could get used to this. The feeling of her skin on mine...it was addictive.
With my stubbly chin sticking to her hair like velcro, I closed my eyes and slept.
Adele
I wasn’t entirely sure when I realized that I had another body in my bed.
It certainly wasn’t when I opened my eyes lazily to another pair staring back at me.
There was a moment, at some point, when the wet dream I was having turned into reality and I felt a mouth down between my legs, the blankets shifting with every movement from the body underneath.
A loud, unabashed moan escaped my mouth, knees spreading apart further as I dug under the covers for that thick, dirty blond hair.
He moaned back, the vibrations from his throat spiking through me as I pulled harshly on the strands between my fingers.
Hands digging into my thighs, he devoured until I was right there, teetering on the edge.
A hand snaked up, loosening its grip on my leg to move up my belly and grasp onto a breast in one slow, brutal squeeze. Fingers found my already peaked nipple and quickly pinched, twisting and pulling until I was thrown unceremoniously over the edge with a shudder and a scream.
“You taste like salted caramel,” he mumbled from beneath the blanket. “And roses, and...”
My thighs pinching his head to shut him up.
Being compared to food was totally ruining my moment.
He peeked out from under the blankets, hair wild and free with a big grin on his dew-kissed lips, chin shimmering with my wetness in the early morning light.
The morning after the last time we fell asleep together was weird and uncomfortable, but today, this moment...I could bottle it up and save it forever, just to reminisce in the pure magic that washed through me at the sight of him and the feeling pulsing through me.
“Good morning,” he said, pressing a kiss to my cheek.
“It is now,” I laughed quietly, watching his face break out in pride.
“I tried. I really did. But I couldn’t wait any longer to taste you again.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m not mad,” I flopped back into my pillows.
Serge followed, laying his head next to mine and pressing his hand to my belly.
The fingers of that hand twitched, then began to move as he explored my stomach and ribs, slipping slowly up to my breasts again.
“You’re absolutely perfect, you know that?” he breathed in my ear as his hand kept a slow, sensuous motion going to, first the left, then the right breast.
“I’m not having sex with you,” I told him in response, hoping to just get that out there so he didn’t ask.
“You’re killing me here,” he whined for just a moment before moving onto his side and propping himself up with his elbow.
Just like that, the little triangles of my nightgown sank down, his fingers pushing the fabric underneath the flesh of one breast as his mouth descended over one pert nipple.
The sensation split down every single limb, radiating right between my legs where it still throbbed from his earlier attentions.
“I need to...get in the...shower...” I was gasping between each nibble and suckle.
“Is that an invitation?” he asked, removing his mouth long enough to mumble the words.
“No,” I told him and he dropped back down to tease the other nipple next.
“You’re not...getting in my...pants.”
I felt him grin against my skin before going back to what he was doing.
A hand slipped back down and sank immediately between my thighs. My back arched and that shoved my breast further into his mouth. I was groaning again now, breath stuttering with each inhale as his fingers moved, the heel of his hand rubbing against my sensitized clit until I was bucking and coming again.
Clamping around his fingers, I wondered if sex would be this good. How big was he?
I could so easily find out. All I had to do was say yes and he’d descend on me like a rabid beast, but I couldn’t. Not yet, at least. Whether I was paying him or not, it had to mean something.
This meant something, I could feel it in the way he worshiped my body and stared so deeply into my eyes.
Finally my lungs heaved a sigh of relief and his fingers moved away from me, mouth leaving my nipples wet, swollen and a little sore.
“You get in the shower and I’ll get coffee going,” he said before kissing me once and climbing out of bed.
Never in the history of ever had a man gone down on me and not expected some kind of reciprocation.
My Serge was definitely a different sort, and I loved it more than I could say.
Stepping into the shower after he left, I reminded myself of why he was a different sort.
Because I was paying him to be different.
Maybe I’d pay for a boyfriend forever.
The thought didn’t have such a bad ring to it, honestly.
When I made it downstairs, Serge was back in his suit, his shirt half buttoned and tie hanging loose from his upturned collar. I saw his jacket hanging on one of the stools at the kitchen island, shoes on the floor underneath.
He looked good in my kitchen.
“I don’t care if you don’t like breakfast. I know how to cook eggs, so you’re eating them,” he told me when I approached.
“Yes sir,” I grinned, slipping on my heels for the day.
He glanced over at me, then did a double take, long and slow that time.
“You look good in green, Adele.” he hummed.
I was in an emerald green wrap sweater dress. Something we’d sold from our channel that I’d bothered to keep. Paired with my patent leather black pumps, it looked like the perfect baby of dressy and casual.
“Noted,” I touched his arm as I reached past him to get my favorite mug.
“Hello Ms. Wilder!” my cleaning lady, Esmeralda came into the house.
Both me and Serge jerked our vision over to her in surprise.
And we weren’t the only ones surprised. When Esmerelda saw Serge, she about had a heart attack.
“Oh my! A gentleman!” she pressed her hand to her plump chest.
Great. Evidently my love life was so depressing that even my housekeeper knew that having a man around was a strange occurrence.
“Hello Esmeralda,” I called to her. “Good morning.”
“Good morning!” she called back and moved to the sink to start on dishes.
“Hey, your housekeeper is nicer than mine. My girl gives me attitude.”
“Only because of how often she’s changing your sheets,” I whispered near his ear before walking away with my coffee.
Serge watched me with narrowed eyes as he chuckled.
I just rolled my eyes, poured my cream, and placed my typical cube of sugar in my cup.
While Esmeralda was busy with dishes, I moved over to my purse, still sitting on the other end of the island, and pulled out the yellow envelope.
Inconspicuously moving to Serge’s coat, I slipped it into the breast pocket.
Good. Now he was paid for the next month.
After dumping two carefully prepared scrambled eggs onto a plate, he pushed me into a seat at the table and kissed my head, sliding the plate in front of me.
“Eat. I’ll see you later,” he told me, buttoning up his shirt the rest of the way.
“How later?” I asked.
“When you call,” he lifted an eyebrow.
I nodded and took a bite of perfectly creamy, fluffy eggs.
Ohhhh yeah…
Gathering his jacket, he must have felt the heft of the envelope because he looked confused for a moment before opening his coat to find the thick envelope peeking out.
His eyebrows shot up and he looked at Esmerelda to make sure she wasn’t watching, then he came to me and kissed me, murmuring into my ear.
“You didn’t have to pay me already.”
“I wanted to. Prove I’m worthy of your trust on that count.”
He just tilted his mouth in a little half smile before saying, “See you later, sexy.”
Strolling out of my house in the same clothes he’d arrived in, I couldn’t help the possession that rolled through me. After waking me up with oral and giving me two orgasms, then making me breakfast and coffee? I wanted to live the rest of my life like that.
Maybe, just maybe I could…
Chapter Fourteen
Adele
I didn’t wait too long before calling him over to me again. He couldn’t come that same evening because he had clients, but he came the next night, and the next, and the next. Soon, I felt almost as if it really were a relationship. Like he really was my boyfriend.
Until that next night, almost a week into our paid relationship. Serge said he couldn’t come over until after his six o’clock appointment, but he said he’d head over afterwards and would bring takeout.
So, I just meandered around my house, having gone home early to make sure I was fresh and ready when he arrived.
Tonight was the night.
I was going to have sex with my escort.
Serge came barging into the house almost half an hour late.
“I’m so sorry, malishka. My appointment ran over.”
He smelled like cigarettes and some other woman’s perfume.
“I grabbed dinner, but I just need to take a shower really quick...”
Jealousy bloomed through my entire body.
He was late because he was too busy fucking another girl.
Of course he was. He was with a client.
And he’s a prostitute, my brain added in there, just for fun.
He’d just been balls deep in another girl and was now there, kissing my cheek as if nothing had happened.
“Go ahead,” I choked, moving away from him.
He noticed. He always noticed.
“Be down soon,” he told me with worried eyes before bounding up the stairs.
Now he was almost as familiar with my home as his own, with how much time he’d spent in it lately.
By the time Serge came back down the stairs in just a pair of sweats he’d brought beforehand, I had worked myself up into a frenzy.
Obviously I knew what he did when he wasn’t with me. Obviously there weren’t any secrets between us.
I payed him for his time and so did other women.
But why did it feel so real? Why did he feel so real every time he held me, touched me, or kissed me?
“Fuck...what’s going on in your head, Ad.”
I cringed.
“I think...I think I need you to go home, Serge.”
“Malishka…” he breathed, taking me into his arms and pressing me into his chest.
“What I’m feeling isn’t fair, but it's real. I-I need you to go home.”
“Fuck...I should have just showered at home...”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” I pushed away from him. “This little bubble we created had to be broken at some point. You have sex for a living, Serge, and at some point I think I forgot that. This was a good reminder.”
“Malishka… please don’t...”
“I’ll call you another time,” I told him, interrupting.
He sighed heavily and pressed his fingers through his damp hair.
“Alright. If that’s what you really want,” he said finally, face reflecting a mixture of anger and regret.
He went back upstairs and got his things, then came down and headed to the door.
“What’s her name, Serge?” I asked as he pulled the door open.
“Which one? Tonight?”
The words stung the moment they touched my ears.
“Yes. Tonight.”
“Most of my girls have NDAs of their own… I can’t...”
“Serge!” I shouted and his eyes snapped up to mine in surprise.
“Maggie,” he said finally. “And she’s seventy-five. Her husband died and she finds comfort in me.”
He looked down with a pained face before slipping out the door.
Oh God…
What have I done?
Serge
Maggie was literally my only girl who didn’t have an NDA, so luckily, I could mention her to Adele.
Not that it made it any better.
I didn’t know what I was thinking...showing up at her home smelling like another woman.
It’s prostitution 101. Smell like you, not who you've entertained.
“Fuck!” I growled into my bed, hitting the pillows a couple times to try and release the frustration I had building up.
I’d already spent the past two hours at the gym trying to work off my anger, but it
didn’t even touch it.
With one stupid, bonehead move, I probably just lost her.
What exactly I’d lost, I couldn’t begin trying to decode. So much of me was wrapped up in her, but there I was, awake, alone, tired and lonely. I wanted her in my arms. I wanted to be wrapped around her and smell her hair, see her true face without the mask she applied before entering the world.
But I didn’t deserve her, and she probably knew that now, if she hadn’t figured it out before.
The last few days had been...heaven. Being with her so much, owning part of her like she owned parts of me...eating together, sleeping together, cuddling and talking in the dark…
At the risk of sounding like a hopeless romantic, I was totally smitten. The lifestyle that we lived together was a dream.
But unfortunately, all dreams shattered eventually, coming to an end at the worst times. Usually right before you get to the good part.
It was a full week of nothing from Adele. She did her thing and I did mine.
And when I said ‘did my thing’ I really meant that I ‘did my clients’.
A dozen women in one week, each and every one as meaningless as the last. Sex and orgasms and women screaming my name...but there was no pleasure.
Fucking was even starting to become a chore.
The girls would show up, get their fill as fast as I could manage, then I sent them on their way, rarely filling the entire hour, which a few of them complained about.
And Maggie? Maggie could tell something was off at our next appointment.
“What’s going on with you?” she asked me, sounding eerily similar to Adele when she would ask the same question.
“Nothing, baby,” I smiled at her, pretending that I wasn’t being torn apart on the inside.
She crossed her arms over her chest, the bitch-face women kept on hand only for stupid or stubborn men, appearing on her face for the first time in our entire history together.
“I’m not taking no for an answer, Serge. Now, tell me what is bothering you.”
Holy shit… She'd never once called me by my real name before.
“Maggie, baby, this time is about you...” I tried deflecting but she straightened her spine further, metaphorically digging in her heels.
