© 2022, All rights reserved -- mimaster
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Ann was swimming laps, the majority of her morning workout already completed. She was in the outside pool of the Sheraton again, the temperature even warmer than the day before. It was going to reach an unseasonable 77 degrees later that afternoon, the normal temperature for that time of year somewhere in the low 60s. She was in heaven.
She'd woken up in a daze, not remembering where she was. It took a bit to gather her faculties, the knock on the door that announced room service startling her. The young woman let herself in and left the tray on the table near the window of the living room, excusing herself quickly. Ann could smell the strong coffee calling out to her from the bedroom. Against her better judgment she got out of the comfortable, yet well-used bed.
"I smell like sex," she moaned happily as she popped a couple of aspirin. Eating the light breakfast fare, she tried to process everything that happened the night before. It was a bit of a blur, and she wasn't sure it all hadn't been some kind of perverted sexual dream. Eyeing her clutch, she recalled setting it on the table, right after she'd settled with Alphonso, who'd been acting as her pimp in the roleplaying fantasy Neil had created for her.
At least that's what she thought. Rifling through the small purse, she pulled out a wad of cash. Unable to resist, she countered her portion of what she'd earned.
"Jesus... that's really four hundred dollars!" she exclaimed as she counted the bills again.
Stuffing the cash back into her purse, she did the reverse math; the night all coming back to her in a rush. She owed the hotel for the room and the food; a total of $200 a night for four nights stay in a plush hotel suite on a busy spring weekend. All the meals were being brought to her, either to her room, or poolside. And she had a masseuse coming to her room every day. Considering all of that, the price per night seemed like a bargain.
Alphonso insisted that she cover all her expenses as soon as she could, leaving everything she made during the balance of her weekend as profit. Well, not exactly everything. Half of everything. Handing him the cash for the hotel meant her take for the night was actually twelve hundred dollars. And with her being made to pay for the organizational skills and on site protection of her pimp, to the tune of fifty percent of everything she made, that meant she was with eight different people over nine hours, and grossed twenty-four hundred.
"God, I'm an actual fucking whore," she giggled.
That wasn't the only payment she made to Alphonso, though. Yes, he walked out of the room with twelve hundred in cash in his pocket, $240 of which would go to Heather as the event coordinator for the weekend. But there was the matter of another debt Ann owed.
Her morning workout had gone smoothly, at least until she got on the stationary bike. Her rear end was sore, having been spanked for fingering his ass when she sucked him off the first time. He gave her fifty swats with his strong bare hand, going back and forth between her tight cheeks. She took most of it, but began crying heavily toward the end. He ignored her emotional response, making her suck him again immediately after he stopped to remind her who she belonged to.
She had only herself to blame. She'd literally begged him to hold her accountable during the weekend. She wanted the experience to be as authentic as possible, and it seemed logical that a man that had numerous women in his fold might have to physically discipline them from time to time in order to keep them in line. At least that's how she envisioned how her relationship with Andre should be. And it was perfect.
Standing a bit sideways, she looked over her shoulder into one of the full length mirrors of the gym. She'd just finished riding the bike, and she was rubbing her behind, checking for marks. Her skin still stung to the touch, but thankfully the redness was gone. Plus, she rarely bruised from a spanking or a paddling. It would take a whip, crop or switch to inflict that kind of damage. She smirked, thinking of the raised welts and reddish-purple bruising that lasted for a little over a week after her last stay in the dungeon.
"I love that feeling," she sighed, still thankful that she didn't have them at the moment. It would ruin the image of the person she had become for the weekend adventure she was on.
Moving to do her pull ups, she focused past the pain of her ass, looking to continue creating the burn she craved from a good workout. She was in a groove, her body going up and down effortlessly as she crossed her ankles. She could feel the muscles firing in her back and shoulders, and it brought a smile. But her morning routine was interrupted by another visitor to the gym. The older man that shared an elevator with her the day before. Ann had flirted with him, but didn't pursue. She'd let the encounter die when she reached her floor, heeding the instructions she'd received regarding her weekend as Rachel, the prostitute. She could interact with the guests of the hotel. Even flirt. But she wasn't to entice one to come to her room.
She understood the reasoning. It was too dangerous. Neil was orchestrating her fun from behind the scenes. Going out on her own to continue to perpetuate the ruse was too risky. The entire purpose of Alphonso being involved was to ensure she was safe if someone outside of their circle of friends was literally solicited to participate. Besides, she'd had sex with eight people the first night. There was no reason to believe that couldn't happen again later that evening, or Sunday as well. With Neil in charge, she knew she wouldn't be lacking in sexual partners.
Yet to the man now leering at her, she seemed available. He was intrigued, almost enamored. She could feel his eyes on her. Once again she was barely dressed, the yellow bikini hiding nothing. She was basically naked from behind, from where he was watching her.
She moved to a weight machine and began doing a strenuous set of thigh crunches. Pressing against the plate her feet were lodged against, the weights loaded onto the pulley system lifted up on the other side. It was the final part of her workout, concentrating on her lower body. Her admirer moved clumsily to a machine next to her, trying desperately to appear suave, but coming off as awkward. She smiled at him politely but said nothing. She kept concentrating on her breathing, yet she couldn't help but notice what incredible shape he was in. It was clear to her that he'd actually come to the gym to work out, and simply stumbled upon her being there. He put in real effort to look that way.
He was likely a little past fifty. His tan was authentic, not from simply lying in a booth during the winter, and she surmised he was likely from much further south. His salt and pepper hair was neatly trimmed, as was his stylish goatee. His tight workout shirt showed off some impressive definition, his chest and shoulders large and bulging as he did some curls. He was flexing his thighs at the same time, for no apparent reason other than to try and prove they existed. He was showing off, and she found that cute. She also noticed his shorts when she casually glanced in his direction; they did little to conceal what appeared to be a very nice bulge.
Yet Ann focused in on his finger, a wedding band shining in the florescent lighting. While that was a turn off from a personal standpoint, knowing what Neil had gone through, she was tasked with pretending to be working in a profession that thrived on that kind of man. It was a paradox, because she knew if she were to have someone show up in her room that was literally paying her for sex, she'd need to overlook such a transgression. And since she was deep into her character, she decided to acknowledge, yet ignore. Not that it mattered. She wasn't to pursue while in public.
That didn't mean he would back off though. Emboldened by their previous exchange in the elevator, he tried to pick up where she'd left off.
"You're really fit," he noted quietly, trying to strike up a conversation.
"So are you, handsome," she replied, offering a playful wink.
His ears perked up, and he pushed ahead. "I mean you really are. I've never seen a woman that could handle that much weight on a leg press."
"Huh... I didn't even check how much it was set on. I figured it was the same as yesterday."
"Really? You didn't check?"
"No. It's been my experience that not many people actually use gyms in hotels. I'm almost always alone whenever I work out in one."
"You act like you spend a lot of time in hotels."
"More than most people, I suppose."
"Really? What do you do?"
She looked at him, a slow shake of her head letting him know she wasn't going to be too forthcoming about her personal life. "Let's just say I'm in the entertainment industry and leave it at that."
"I'm sorry, I'm prying... "
She smirked. "No. Your trying to get me to tell you my name."
"Sorry. I'm Pete. Pete Haggerty."
"I'm gay."
"Gay... what?"
"Ha! Not my name. My orientation. Nice try though."
"Huh?"
"I'm a lesbian. I'm pretty sure I told you yesterday I'm not into guys."
"Funny. All I remember was you saying I'm cute."
"You are. Doesn't change things."
"But, didn't you say something about... going down?"
"Men. Flash them your tits, and they think they're seconds away from dipping their wicks in the candle wax."
"Why did you?"
"Why did I what? Flash you?"
"Yeah. I'm confused. You just did that to tease me?"
"I threw you a bone. You could already see them anyway. Pretty sure you could make out my pussy too with my bikini being that wet from swimming. I figured I'd give you something to go home and tell your wife about," she shrugged. Pete looked at his ring, toying with it. He started to say something, but checked himself. Ann smirked. "I'm glad you didn't try come up with some lame excuse for the ring, like you're recently widowed or something."
