About a year later in spring
Water runs in the streets and over the curbs after the third day of constant rain has overloaded the storm drains and the river, pregnant with melted snow, offers no relief. I have just closed something I have been working on for a year and a half and I have delighted my co-workers with the number of ways I have been able to cover up what is a colossal deception of our counterparty. I have nothing to do with the rest of my afternoon and nowhere to go. How to celebrate yet another corporate caper?
May I suggest an afternoon of blindingly inappropriate extramarital intimate physical activity culminating in ejaculation and generous tips? I turn to see Gentle dressed up like a waiter in a five-star restaurant, notepad open. Where's Wicked?
He's on personal leave. That thing we did last week that put our company's counterparty into bankruptcy got him noticed at the Home Office and he's gone in to get a commendation or something.
Our counterparty was more gullible than a trailerpark imbecile. As far as accomplishments go, that carries the same amount of difficulty credits as, say, seducing a dead sheep. However, as Gentle reminds me, that IS the sort of thing demons like to put on their resumes. It's just gonna be he and I for today, so let's see what he can come up with. Judging from the way my dick is hanging limp in my trousers, I don't expect much, but I do know whom to call.
The first call is to a little establishment located, by the machinations of the dark celestial forces that oversee this particular city, right next door to my office. Hi, remember me and my terrible accent? Yes, of course. I want to come over in an hour or so with a lady friend, what are the options? Eight hands, full non-intimate contact, costs such and such, you can have privacy after the program. Deal.
The second call is to Jasmine. Hi, great to hear from you, sure I can come to such and such address in an hour, what are we going to do? Okay, I'll trust you...
On the street, coming into the café, she is dressed not to provoke attention. Simple coat, sensible boots, dark skirt, hat covering her hair. She smiles, we have an obligatory cup of coffee, and I explain a little of what is going to happen in hushed tones. She nods in agreement. She shows me that she has brought the scarves. I did not ask her to. Gentle is smsing Wicked "Yes, you were right..."
A two minute walk and we are ringing the doorbell to an unmarked apartment in a nondescript building. The first floor is a shoe store, post office, hardware store and lunch place. The entryway to the apartments is around the back, and then there's a stairwell, dilapidated and redolent of old piss, the same graffiti essentially as in Jasmine's block: Eminem is KOOL, Rap is Dogshit. A girl opens the door and leads us in.
I assume that girls in the industry, even if unacquainted, are fairly capable of spotting each other. Jasmine, of course, as the guest has no trouble understanding what the girls here are and what they do. What I wonder is whether they have her pegged as a pro or just some girlfriend of mine. It turns me on to think that she is so demure and so polite that they don't make her as a colleague.
In this house, the rules of the crew are at work. One of the older girls is called the Mama – either because she has been promoted permanently or because that mama on the train I told you about came to visit for a couple of days. She leads us in to a living room with over-soft furniture, takes our shoes and coats, and tells us that the girls will be coming in two seconds. She claps her hands and about eight girls walk in, dressed in cheap summer resort outfits. They are all different – tall, short, curly hair, straight, one in a crew cut. The busty ones show off their chests as much as possible. The shier ones stand to the side. I introduce myself and Jasmine and ask for their names, and for each one to tell me something about herself. I do this to remember the names:
#1, shy and at the end, emaciated, tells me she likes Martini. Until I moved here, I did not know that vermouth could be drunk straight. Pass.
#2, chubby and smiling, tells me it's her birthday today. Possible.
#3, tall and athletic, strong veined hands, tells me she likes the rain. Possible.
#4, stout and dykey, shoulders like a boxer, tells me she just got back from Egypt and that's why she's tan. Probable.
#5, the curviest and most vivacious, smiles at Jasmine and tells me – still looking at Jasmine -- she thinks I am a very lucky man. Definite.
#6, bookish looking even if dressed in cutoff jeans and a bra, looks at her feet and tells me she's always been afraid of spiders. That makes her more of a pussy than my children, but I like the whole "librarian who has to yank pud to feed her pet birds" look. Possible.
#7 , shy of her big nose, tells me she has been in the capital a year and loves it. I don't believe her on either count. Pass.
#8, at the other end, has small breasts with nipples that push through two layers of clothing. I don't listen to what she says, she's already a Definite.
I ask them to give us a minute and send Mama back in five minutes. Gentle has his own ideas of whom to pick but I ignore him. I turn to Jasmine and ask her. She won't choose. But I held her hand during the cattle call, and watched her out of the corner of my eye. The girl definitely is not gay, but her hand tightened when #5 looked at her, and she ran her thumb over the back of my hand when #3 introduced herself. I also watched her look up and down over the Mama, and the girl with the closest body type to Mama is #8. #4 has the closest skin tone to Jasmine's. I run those numbers by her and she nods in agreement. Mama walks in, gets the names, walks out and two seconds later in walks #5.
Within a crew, there is always a leader, and she is the one who brings you in. The two of us are brought to a room with dimmed lights, a music player, a chair in the corner and a large Ikea bed from the cheap end of the catalogue. 5 asks 3 to take Jasmine for her shower, and when she leaves, she asks me what I want. I've been here before, alone (usually) and so she knows I know the basic no-nos – the guests can touch or lick a girl's breast, any orifice is off limits, sex is forbidden with the girls in the room, the girls will not play with each other unless the guest has specifically purchased that program. That does, however, leave a lot. So I tell her what I'd like to see; she asks me if Jasmine is going to be all right with it and I show her the bag of scarves. She smiles and the other two girls get to work. Jasmine comes back a few minutes later and 8 is sent to give me my shower.
When I get back, Jasmine is naked on the bed, head resting to the side on her folded hands, smiling at me. 3 and 5 are on either side of her back, working her spine down to her butt and 4 is doing the feet and legs. She is gleaming with oil. They are naked as well. 5 invites me to lay down next to them, and 8 with the titanium nipples leads me over, lays me down, and works my shoulders and spine. Jasmine and I are purring.
How are you, Jasmine? I ask.
Excellent, she sighs.
I've told 5 that you are going to do anything you are told to do, that's right isn't it?
Jasmine nods.
They need to hear you say it, darling.
Jasmine smiles. I'll do whatever I am told, 5, she says.
5 smiles. This is a game she knows how to play.
I watch them arouse her. It starts slowly, following whispered clues from 5: part her legs, or fingertip-feather down the arms. Jasmine is patient and she does not buck when 5 sits on her back and holds her hands as 3 leans on her legs and 4 runs one fingertip from the tail bone to the anus and perineum and back; Jasmine only hisses and smiles at me, closing her eyes. Meanwhile 8 is doing the same to me and I am hardening.
5 keeps a watch by the bed and after fifteen minutes have passed, she takes the bandanna I gave her and she blindfolds Jasmine, then tells her to roll over. The scarves are already fixed to the corners of the bed. I watch from the side of the bed, rock hard as four naked girls pull her extremities to the corners and hitch her down simultaneously. They hum in tune to the song on the CD player as they fasten her down. The sexiest part is 5, telegraphing orders to the other three – pass it twice around the wrist before you make the knot, re-tighten the loops around the corner once the ankle is tight – and winking at me, making me wonder who is really providing the service to whom here?
