Artful Attractions (3 page)

The overnight part doesn’t work with our group. I imagine if Brian was convinced to let this be an all-nighter he’s been paid a shit load of money. He wouldn’t allow it with just anybody but he’s fully aware that I enjoy my time with Joseph.

“I have a present for you before you leave tomorrow. So don’t forget to take it.” He smiles and then places the head of his cock at my hole and pushes it slightly in. I wiggle under the perfect amount of pressure.

We screw all night long. He is like a damn machine. His cock pounding into me and coming over eight times. It’s crazy really. I’ve never met a man like him. He ate my pussy into ten toe curling orgasms and fingered me for six more. I was delirious with being overly satisfied by the time we fell asleep. It only took a few seconds and I was out. Now it’s morning and we just fucked again. My pussy is sore but it’s a good kind of aching. The kind of pain only a perfect dick like his could give me.

He rolls off of me and throws the come filled condom onto the floor.

“Damn Ty, you’re amazing,” he breathes.

I roll onto my side and slap my hand onto his chest, a pins and needle sensation burns my palm. “You’re the perfect one,” I huff trying to catch my breath.

He sits up and slides out of the bed. Damn, that ass of his is perfect. It has dimples and smooth muscle. I could just bite it.

Opening the closet he takes out a white box and brings it over to the bed. Sitting it down beside me.

“What’s that?” I ask gazing over it.

“This my dear is one of two presents,” he explains sliding it over to me, pressing it against my naked stomach.

“I don’t need a present Joseph. I just enjoy the sex. That’s a lot in itself.”

“Nonsense. My lover is going to get presents and I expect her to enjoy them too.”  A sly smile perks up at the corners of his delectable mouth. “Now open it, or I will be forced to fuck you silly, again,” he chuckles, standing next to the bed in all his tall muscled glory. Yum.

I wiggle a brow and bite my lip innocently. “Well….Can I have both?” I smile.

He looks down, my gaze follows, and instantly his cock springs to attention.

“I guess he wants you again. You’re going to kill me, my dear.” He winks. “But I guess… if you insist.”

I giggle playfully and I reach over and pull another condom out of the drawer. We’re running low.

I open it and he shoves it over his cock and pushes me to the bed slamming his cock into my tender hole. I scream out in pain.

“It aches, doesn’t it?” He asks warmly.

I nod.

“I guess I will take it easy,” he pouts. Joseph isn’t much for tenderness in the sex department. And I’m not complaining one bit. 

“It’s okay, you can fuck me hard.” I say, egging him on. I don’t want him to cancel next week if he’s unsatisfied with my performance.

“Baby, I’m not doing that. That hole is mine to take care of and fuck. I don’t want to hurt it. I want to pleasure it.” He pushes in further and I wince, it’s really sore. He pulls it out and I shoot up and grasp it in my hand, not wanting him to go.

Nicely, he pulls my hand from his cock.

“Babe, it’s okay. I know you’re sore,” he says and I try to reach out and stroke him. If I can’t fuck him, I can make him come. But he stops me, by swatting my hand away.

“I don’t want that. The only place I want is between those perfect legs. I will save my come and raging boner for you next week.”

I sigh a big sigh of relief and my shoulders relax.

He chuckles. “You thought if you didn’t please me again that I’d cancel?”

I nod and bite my lip again, combing my hair with my fingers.

He tugs my bottom lips with the soft pads of his fingertips. “Babe, you’re going to have to do a hell of a lot more than be sore for me not to come see you. I’ve been hooked for nine months. The more I see you the more I need to see you. You’re the only damn thing I look forward to during the week. Well you and my kids. But that’s all.”

I smile brightly and blush. How can he be so sweet to a hired escort? I don’t get it. But he’s adorable.

“Now open your present.” He pushes the box against me again and pulls off the condom with his other hand. It snaps loudly and echoes in the room. Those damn things fit him tight. Maybe I should bring them the next time. He didn’t provide the XL’s for himself, like he should.

I pull the pink bows string and it falls from the package. I lift the lid slowly. Holy cow! He did not! There’s a beautiful silk pink nightgown and robe set. It’s stunning and I slide my hands over it. It’s silky smooth and utterly perfect. I hurl myself across the bed and wrap my arms around his neck, crushing my lips to his. He smiles big and kisses me back, chuckling in his throat. I pull back. My body on his lap and he cups my ass with his hands.

“I guess my baby likes my gift,” he states with a loving smile, his eyes sparkling in the early morning sun just seeping through the windows of our suite.

“It’s perfect.” I kiss him again.

“I want you to bring it next week. I’ll give Brian the details. I want you to stay with me again. I loved sleeping next to you, Ty.” He tucks my hair out of my face and kisses my cheek with his warm supple lips.

“I liked it too.”

“Baby, your other gift is in there too. But open it once I get dressed and leave. I’ve got ten minutes and I’ve got to get to work,” he says, gazing over to the clock next to the bed. “You stay here if you’d like, order room service please. Checkout is at eleven but I can have them push it to one if you’d like,” He says and kisses my cheek again.

Damn, I’ve had him as a client for months and this is the best night we’ve had together so far. It just keeps getting better and better, since the beginning. The first night was a short date. He was nervous and we had sex once in a dull room at the Holiday Inn. Ever since then it’s progressively gotten more elaborate, the frequency has increased, and the amount of sex we have is out of this world.

“Thank you.” I smile and slide off his lap. He jumps up and throws on a fresh suit from the closet, tosses his dirty clothes into his rolling suitcase, and grabs his briefcase. Five minutes later he’s kissing my cheek and heading out the door.

As soon as he leaves I jump onto the bed and pullout a white envelope from inside the box. I peel back the top.

Oh my god!

A bunch of money falls into my lap in hundred dollar bills. I pick them up and count them twice. Three thousand dollars as a tip and a small note on a half sheet of copy paper.

Tylah,

Thank you for spending an evening with me. It was perfect as always. I miss seeing you, so I will make sure this becomes a weekly venture. The money is not to buy you. But to show how much I appreciate you and how much your sweetness means to me.

Xoxoxo--- Joseph

I jump out of the bed naked and grab my cell out of my purse. I call Brian.

“Hello, I’m surprised you’re up already,” Brian says when he answers. I can hear the smile in his voice.

“How much did Joseph pay you for a night with me?” I blurt.

“A lot. Your cut is eight.”

“Eight? As in thousand?!” I nearly scream.

“Yes, eight thousand, Alexis,” he snickers. “Joseph loves spending time with you. I told him no over nighters and then he offered me ten grand. I couldn’t say no. I would have if I knew you didn’t like him too. But I know he’s the perfect regular for you. So I decided to let it slide and let him be the one to surprise you with it. No other woman is allowed to have overnight partners. I make this clear to all of you. Lulu has asked me to allow it numerous times. But Joseph is my only exception. Period. It’s not safe to allow my girls to stay out with strangers that we barely know. We have some regulars but they don’t come around frequently, and none of them treat my girls as nice as Joseph treats you.”

“Lulu’s a bitch, an annoying one. But thanks. I really enjoyed myself. I can’t believe he paid that kind of money to spend time with me. And he left me a three thousand dollar tip and an expensive nighty.”

He whistles, impressed. “Yep, I knew he liked you. We know he’s got the money Alexis. It’s not that hard to fathom that you’re gorgeous and great in bed. I get premium prices for you.”

I blush even though he can’t see me. After four years of doing this you’d think I’d get used to the compliments. The genuine sweet ones. But it’s not the case. Feeling like a piece of meat, I’m used to. Men talking down to me or wanting me to just please them. I can handle that. It happens weekly. But true honesty and sweetness is a rarity in this business. We get hot men and men who will talk to us like a person. But the sex part is almost always one sided. That’s what makes it so great that Becka and I live together; we know what we each go through. It would be hard if my roomy was a dog groomer or some shit. Two Escorts under one roof sounds strange but it’s a perfect setup. We compare notes nightly.

I spent all of this morning relaxing at the Waldorf eating room service like Joseph suggested. I took a dip in the whirlpool tub and I cleaned myself up with the few odds and ends in my purse before disembarking on my hour long journey back to Queens. I hadn’t even called Becka to tell her about the all-nighter. But once I got home she shoved me down on my black wrought iron canopy bed and forced me to tell her every detail. She’s never had a regular like I have Joseph. She has Mike, a guy who comes around when he strikes it hot enough at work and uses all of his bonuses on her. Three weeks in a row he’ll book her six or seven times until the money train rolls out and then he comes back for more five or so months later when he accumulates more cash. It’s been an on-again, off-again thing the past two and a half years. He’s not rich like Joseph and I’m not exactly sure what he does. Neither is Becka.

Tonight Becka and I have clients again. It’s Friday night so of course it’s one of our busiest evenings. I can’t remember the last time I actually had a Friday night all to myself. I have a client by the name of John tonight. It’s another Gala opening I am attending with him. No specifics of what he expects or wants. Only that he’s sending a car to claim me around six. Another rule for our protection stated in our contract with Brian is that no client can pick us up from home. We meet them on Astoria Boulevard. This way they can’t locate our homes but are aware we live in Queens. Not all of us live here. But our apartment is nicer than the rest of the women we work with and we save enough money that eventually we’ll buy a condo in Manhattan. Last month I pulled in a little over ten grand. All of which is tax free. I haven’t filed a tax return since I was a cocktail waitress four years ago when Brian recruited me. Keeping under the radar with the tax man has its perks.

“You going wig or no wig tonight?” Becka asks, standing next to me in the bathroom. We’re showered now; its hair and makeup time, as we stand in front of our oversized rectangular mirror and double vanity sink, wearing only bras and panties.

I shrug and return to putting my foundation primer on. “Probably normal hair. He didn’t ask for anything specific. I hate those things anyhow, they make my head itch... You?”

“I’ve got a game night at my client’s friend’s house. His name is Brian also. But my guess is he’s using his piggy bank or mommy and daddy’s cash to pay for tonight. Brian informed me he’s only twenty-one. I’m staying blonde but I’m stuck wearing daisy duke shorts, heels and a stupid sports jersey. Slutting it up with a child tonight, I suppose.” She chuckles and continues painting on her eye shadow. Her blonde hair up in a clip to keep it off her angelic face as she paints herself into a glamorous sex goddess.

“Yeah well, Brian never told me how old John is. He’s probably eighty, uses a cane and needs Viagra.” I bust up laughing and she snorts holding one back. Presumably, so she doesn’t ruin the last ten minutes she’s used to perfect her eye makeup.

“If his name is John I’m sure he’s fifty, not eighty. Eighty would mean he’s a Bill or a Fred,” she explains with a straight face, leaning over the sink to dab glitter over her finished eye makeup.

I roll my eyes. “No it doesn’t, there are plenty of old Johns. And old David’s, Michael’s and all those other names that have been around forever. They’re in the bible. Duh.” I resist the urge to smack her in the forehead for her stupidity. Becka’s great but she’s definitely not the sharpest tool in the shed. I’m intelligent, not over the top sixteen hundred S.A.T smart. But I carry a lot more in way of intellectual charisma than she does. She works the sex appeal like a diamond and I work the brain. Ok, and the sex appeal too. But she’s way hotter. She’s got fuck-me plastered across her forehead. Even the way she sway’s her hips when she walks screams take-me-now.

She finishes her makeup and I mine. We both make our way into my bedroom and pull out tonight’s ensembles. I’m going artsy with mass sex appeal. In my deep fuchsia pink strapless sweetheart neckline dress, that’s tight, but from the bottom bust down it has massive amounts of ruffles. It screams modern and sexy with an eye-catching color. Not your classic little black dress. That doesn’t work when you’re trying to grab the attention of your date. It’s okay to have them gawk at other women, they’re men and they’re single. But as an escort it’s our duty to hold their attention and play with their heads. The one between their ears and the one in their pants. That’s why I get paid the big bucks. I’m pairing my dress with a pair of silver teardrop earrings and matte silver four inch platforms. I’m strutting some serious hotness.  It’s hard not to feel sexy in a va-va-voom dress and twelve hundred dollar Christian Louboutin heels. I, of course bought them used on eBay for three hundred. But dressing for the part is in my job description. Walmart sweats and sneakers won’t cut it for exclusive Gala events. Although at times I wish they did.

“So are you getting a ride from your new young boyfriend? You sexy cougar.” I make a sensual cat noise. “Or are you taking the bus?” I ask Becka, turning around from sliding on my heels. She’s already dressed in her slutty sports outfit. Men will be drooling over her. Like always.

She frowns. “He’s picking me up personally on Astoria.”

“Awe, now isn’t that sweet. Hope he’s got a big cock. That’ll keep you happy.” I’m bursting at the seams with sarcasm.

“Yep, twenty-one usually results in a two pump chump. With my luck I won’t have to sleep with him at all, if he gets too hammered. Young men and alcohol as you know typically ends in whiskey dick. Which I’m okay with. I think I’d rather screw an experienced fifty-year-old than a frat boy with daddy issues.”

I can’t help but laugh at her. Not that I don’t agree. It’s very true. The stamina physically when you’re twenty one is great and all. But when you back it up with a two minute sex session, it falls seriously under par. Plus, they don’t tip and they are more likely to grope you inappropriately in front of friends. Older men last forever in bed. True, a lot of them can’t fuck all night like animals unless you’re a rarity like Joseph, but they do make decent lovers. Long enough to get you off a few times at least.

We do our nightly overlook, where I check her makeup and clothes and she does the same in return. Then we stock our purses with the necessities; condoms are number one. Believe it or not, you’d be surprised how many men don’t bring them along. I don’t quite know if they expect an escort to provide them, or they think if they forget we’d allow them to bareback it. I’m sorry but I refuse to sleep with a man without a condom. They suck in terms of pleasure for both sexes. But I don’t want anything I can’t wash off in the morning. Plus, the sad truth is I’m twenty-five and slept with more than probably twenty women put together. I know that sounds terrible but it’s the truth. And I’ve never slept with a man without him sleeved. No unprotected sex for me, not even when I was a teenager. Mainly because in my house growing up, my sisters and I had the ‘cool’ mom. She’d always leave condoms on the counters, try to talk sex with us and not in the parental way. It was always about pleasure and positions with her. Shit, I even remember a time when my mom and I discussed tips on how to give the best blow jobs. My father, god love him, would unequivocally consider it a mortal sin to speak the word sex in front of me, let alone discuss the art of it. Complete polar opposites those two, no wonder they ended up divorced when I was eight.

The next item on the purse list is lube. I always carry two little throw-and-go packs. It’s occasionally damn near impossible to get my juices flowing. So when in doubt, lube the pussy up good. Becka and I have an entire section in our linen closet devoted to our work essentials. Some people need paper clips and fountain pens. We stock up on condoms; all shapes, sizes, colors and flavors. Lube; always water based for easier clean up. Flushable wipes; for cleanup too. Chapstick; because believe it or not your lips get dry after sucking a cock for long periods of time. Tylenol; for obvious reasons, but you’d be surprised how many times my wrist has cramped up from jacking a dick. And lighters; men smoke and it’s only courteous to help your date light up. It might be cliché but it’s a turn-on for most men. Just like opening a bottle of beer for them or picking lint off their shirts. Men are simplistic creatures. The sooner a woman learns that, the better. They love food, their specific hobbies, sex and ego stroking. It’s that simple. If a man likes fishing, you pretend to like it too. Same goes for sports, art, reading, cars and the list goes on and on. If you don’t know enough about it to pretend, you work the innocence card and convince them to educate you instead.

The best dates are with clients you’re attracted too, have things in common with or they spoil you. Winning all three and you’ve seriously hit the Holy Grail in our line of work. Although attraction is my number one choice out of the three. I know it probably should be spoiling because this is a money for pleasure business after all. But I want a man I actually like to look at. It makes it easier to get wet between the legs and they make you want to do a better job. And more effort equals more tips. Trust me, I’ve had to pick up all these ins and outs over the past four years. Before I worked for Brian, I was shoveling less than a grand in a month. Now I’m a high roller and I get to eat out for free a few times a week. Not bad for a part time gig.