Dial a Stud: Dante's Story (5 page)

Desperate to stop thinking about eyes like the finest Belgium chocolate and a body that would make the average man green with envy, I snatched up the newspaper one evening while Mel was busy finishing off some formatting for a new, up and coming local author.

Thumbing through it, my eyes fell on that ad. That ad, the very same ad Mel had read to me the other night before we’d gone out and I’d met Mr Sex on Legs. It was the ad for Dial A Stud.

The following day just as I was putting a couple of sandwiches together for Mel and myself; she came rushing into the kitchen, looking a little frayed around the edges. She didn’t say anything immediately, just watched me put the finishing touches on them. She should consider herself fortunate, that it was only sandwiches I was making. I could handle them. It was only when I tried to cook, that it turned out some totally inedible goo.

“So are you going to just stand there admiring my culinary skills, or are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” I finally asked.

Mel snorted. “I love you Gracie girl, but let’s not turn this into something we know it’s not. Yes, you can make a great sandwich but every other food known to mankind? Not so much.”

I grinned at her. “Do you want to eat these, or should I give them to you as an enema?” I asked her, my voice syrupy sweet.

“Eww Grace, you can be so disgusting sometimes. Good luck getting it up there anyway. My ass is as virginal as the day I was born, and it will take someone who is a much smoother talker than you, to get anything up there.” She gave a dramatic toss of her head. “Now that you can take to the bank.”

I laughed and handed her a plate with her sandwich on it. “So what’s up? Don’t tell me nothing, I can tell there is.”

She sighed. “It’s mum, she called. Seems there’s some kind of family drama taking place and I’ve been summoned home. I’m leaving in an hour, and I’ll be gone two days.” She took a mouthful of her sandwich, before looking up at me, from her position at the breakfast bar. “Can you be good while I’m gone, or should I slap a chastity belt on you before I go?”

I rolled my eyes. “Really Mel, I’m not a child. What do you think I’m going to do while you’re gone? I’m not going to have an orgy or anything.”

Melanie grunted from behind her sandwich. “I’m not worried about you having an orgy.” She said once she’d swallowed the food in her mouth. “I’m more concerned that you’ll run to the club in search of Mr Stud from the other night. You can walk away from him my girl, but I know you think about him almost constantly. The noise from your brain makes it hard to concentrate on work, plus I’m sure I’ve heard that familiar buzz coming from your room, you know, from B.O.B?” She waved her half eaten sandwich at me. “You’ve been giving yourself such a work out that if masturbation was an Olympic sport you’d break the fucking world record.”

Strangely I felt colour heat my cheeks. “Well what are you doing walking the hallways at night? Are you some kind of crazed stalker or are you sleep walking? Maybe it’s all those horror movies you used to watch; you think you’re a ghost haunting the halls at night?”

“Just be careful while I’m gone Gracie. I’m a sucker for a good looking man too, but you know they’re your weakness. He’s your weakness. Promise me you won’t go there looking for him until I get home at least. Please Grace, wait until I’m home again and can watch your back for you. We take care of one another, you know that. His looks blindside you but don’t let him lead you into temptation.”

I stared at her for a while before bringing my hands together, as if in prayer. I dropped my head forward so Mel couldn’t see my expression. “Yes Sister Melanie.” I said demurely.

“Oh fuck you.” She snapped before bursting out laughing. “Just keep that man out from between your legs until I get home.” She dropped her plate into the sink. “Now I’m going to pack and reluctantly get out of here.”

I watched her leave the room and instantly my expression sobered. I hated that Mel was going away now. It was terrible timing for me. She knew me well and knew it was a bad time to leave me alone. I was a 24 year old woman, successful, intelligent but not when it came to men. Without her here to control me, I was likely to do as she said, run to the club to hunt the man down.

I was still sitting there, having a huge internal battle with myself when Mel rushed in again, dressed and ready to leave for her parents’ place.

She kissed me, hugged me, gave me yet another lecture on the foolishness of running after hot and sexy men, and hurried off again, leaving a cloud of her perfume in her wake.

After she’d left, I got up, cleaned the kitchen and wandered through the house, unsure what to do with myself next.

I managed to make it through the next few hours doing just that too, a big fat, nothing. Well, not entirely nothing. I had a couple of glasses of wine, sat around feeling sorry for myself, and tried not to think about him. It wasn’t really any surprise that it wasn’t working too well for me either.

“Stop this shit Grace.” I snapped at myself. “Think about something else. You don’t need a man who looks like he should be hiring himself out for stud duty; you need a nice, dependable, maybe even a little kind of boring, man.” I scoffed. “No, scrap that. No man at all, would make life so much easier.” I laughed at my words. “Well, life’s just peachy then, because there is no fucking man. No man that won’t potentially break your heart girlie.”

I took another sip of my drink and stared at the clock, watching the second hand turning slowly. I’m sure it was turning slower than normal. It was mocking me and teasing me. Good chance it was trying to make me break.

I shook my head. “You’re losing it girl. Talking to yourself; accusing the clock of sabotaging time.”

I knew why though. I needed a man. No, I needed sex. Nice uncomplicated sex. I could use sex with some hot stud, sex with a man who would blow my socks right off my feet, if I’d been wearing them. I needed a man to fuck my damn brains out and for once to make it mind blowing. I wanted to have the orgasm to end all orgasms. I wanted to experience something more than what they called the mini death. I wanted to think I was going to die from pleasure unlike anything I’d ever experienced. I wanted my dreams, my fantasies; I wanted the orgasm of champions, whatever the hell that was. I just wanted to come from sex with a man; a real, living, breathing, man. Not a piece of plastic that vibrated, no matter how pretty it was, or how long it could go before a battery change.

I threw my head back on the lounge and wallowed a little longer in my miserable, self-pitying state of mind. I wasn’t sure how long I sat like that, head back, eyes closed before an idea began to form in my brain.

I cranked one eye open, as if expecting to see Mel standing over me, with an accusing look on her face, because she’d read my mind. Of course she wasn’t there, but that didn’t stop me, from seeing her accusing face in my head. Still, that was just in my head, not for real, and in an act of childish defiance, I stuck my tongue out at my imaginary Mel.

Sitting up again, I picked up the newspaper that was still lying open, on the coffee table, at ‘that’ ad. I don’t know how many times I read it, letting the words sink in. The more I read it, the more my desire to find out just what Dial A Stud was, increased.

Tossing the paper down again, I stood up and headed for the kitchen, to get another glass of wine. As I drank it, I began to wear a track in the carpet, as I paced back and forth, in front of the huge floor to ceiling windows of the living room.

My eyes kept moving to the newspaper and I wondered; could I do it? Much as I was drawn to Dan from the club, I knew, deep inside I knew, going there would not be a wise move.

That didn’t stop me from wanting to have some great sex though. Again my eyes drifted to the open newspaper. Maybe getting a professional in, whose job it was to make me come, was a better option. He’d do his thing; I’d do my thing, hopefully more than once too. He’d get paid and go away, leaving me to bask in the afterglow of hopefully, more than one orgasm. 

“Stop being such a bloody chicken girl.” I chastised myself.

With a deep breath, I straightened, downed the last mouthful of wine, and with determined strides, I walked over to the newspaper and snatched it up. I grabbed my mobile phone in my other hand and before I could think this through too much and for too long, I began to dial. As soon as the phone started to ring, I panicked and hung up.

I made another couple of laps of the living room, before mentally slapping myself. This was ridiculous. I could do this. I was a business woman. It was just a call. I didn’t have to do anything if I didn’t like the sound of it. Plus it was quite possible, that there would not be any neon sign that lit up, and no sirens going off, to announce to anyone close enough to hear it, that I was calling what was probably basically just a unisex whore house. My secret would be safe, well unless someone pulled my phone records, but seriously, who would do that?

“Just grow yourself a set.” I growled at myself then laughed. Now that would throw a spanner in the works, if I did grow a set of balls.

Before I could overthink it all again, I hit redial and this time I waited while the phone rang. Once, twice, three times it rang and when someone answered on the fourth ring, I shit myself. Not literally, just figuratively. I found myself suddenly struggling to swallow around what felt like a throat drier than the Sahara Desert.

“Dial A Stud Services, how may I help you?” A woman’s voice nearly sang the words at me, and I cringed slightly. Nothing put me off more, than people who were so enthusiastic in their greeting, that it seemed like dealing with a customer was the highlight of their entire life. If this was how it was going to be, this was shaping up to be cheesy.

“Umm, I’m not sure why I called. I saw your ad in the paper, and I was wondering, just what it’s all about and how much?”

There was a pause on the end of the line for a moment.

“Well we have a small team of men and women, who are dedicated to bringing you, whatever your heart desires sexually. If you have a fantasy you’d like acted out, we can cater to your needs there. You can have just the one stud come to you, or a maximum of three. If you want a man or a woman, that is fine. If you would like more than one stud, you tell us the combination you desire. By that I mean, two men, one man, one woman, two women. You are only limited by your imagination, and how adventurous you are.” There was a pause from Miss Gushy. “So how does that sound? Does any of that interest you?”

“Umm…well…I…I…umm…I suppose so.” I finally managed to splutter. “How much?”

“Do you mean how much for our studs? Well that depends on what exactly you would like them to do, how many you require, how long you want them for?”

“Oh, ok.” The more I listened to this woman, the more I felt like I was turning into a moron. Not because of her, but the information she was giving me, was turning me into one. It was not only a little overwhelming, given I didn’t generally pick up a sexual partner on the phone, but kind of embarrassing too.

“How…how many studs do you have working for you?”

“We have a diverse team here at Dial A Stud. There are nine men and six women. We get more female customers than men to be honest. I think there are more women either dissatisfied with their sex lives, or wanting to fulfil a fantasy, and decide that getting professionals in, is a safer and more reliable option.”

I nodded at her words. They made sense, but when the line went really quiet, I realised the receptionist or whatever she was, couldn’t see me, so my nod meant nothing to her. She would be waiting for me to say something.

“Umm, yeah, I can relate. So many men, big promises, little return.” I muttered and heard the woman’s polite laughter come over the line.

“I sense you’re unsure of what to expect from our studs, so why don’t you tell me why you called? What would you like from our studs? Tell me your fantasy.”

I gave a short burst of uncomfortable laughter. “I…well…I…this isn’t easy.” I stammered. “Two men.” I nearly shouted those words to her as if I thought saying them quickly and loudly would ease my embarrassment.

“Ah, you know that’s a common request from the ladies. They want to experience two sexy men at once. Of course the difference with our studs, you get men who not only look good, but they know what to do to please a woman.”

Listening to her words over the phone, suddenly made me feel aroused. I could see those men in my mind’s eye, and just like that, my embarrassment was gone. Fuck it, I wanted to do this. I was going to book the men in.

Dammit, I was going to do this; to hell with it. Time to have some great sex, and not mediocre sex, like I got from most men I picked up.

Of course my enthusiasm died slightly when I thought of Mel. She would be back in two days. If I couldn’t get the studs over before she got back, I wouldn’t be able to do this. If the idea of sleeping with Dan threw her into a mini tailspin, then I didn’t want to think about, what she'd make of me not only calling Dial A Stud, but booking in two men to come and have their way with me.

“I…I was wondering when the earliest would be, that I could make an appointment for the two studs please? Also how much, will it cost me?” I realised I’d better find out how much, because although I wanted some great, orgasmic sex, I wasn’t interested in going broke to get it.

“How many hours would you like our studs for? The minimum time is one hour, but we recommend longer than that. Unless you’re quite comfortable around strangers, it’s better to go with a couple of hours at least. It just helps to build up a bit of a rapport with your studs.”