Part 1 - A Call to Action
"Dammit." Adam said "I'm so sorry babe." and he rolled away from Emily onto his back, his erection quickly subsiding.
"It's okay, really." Emily said, grabbing her discarded panties to wipe his cum off of her inner thighs. "You've been under a lot of stress sweetheart. I understand."
But Adam could hear the disappointment in her voice, so he offered quickly "You want me to go down on you? Or we could use one of our toys?"
Emily shook her head a little sadly, not meeting his eyes. "No. The moment is kind of gone for me." She sighed, got up from the bed and walked to the bathroom. "I'm going to clean up. I have an early call tomorrow."
The next morning, they were standing at the center island in their kitchen having coffee. The sun was streaming in, the Manhattan sunrise glinting off their stainless-steel Viking appliances. Adam was reading his emails on his laptop, trying not to meet Emily's eyes. Emily was peering at him over the rim of her coffee cup.
"Busy day today?" she asked.
Adam shrugged. "No busier than usual, meaning of course it's a dumpster fire."
Emily nodded, but asked "Do you maybe have time for lunch?"
Adam could hear the hopeful note in her voice "Ahhh... hang on." he said, quickly shifting some meetings on his calendar to open up some whitespace. "How about 11:30 to 12:00? Does that work for you?"
She pecked him on the cheek and said "Sure. See you back here." and she padded in her bare feet across the shiny hardwood floor towards her home office. Adam admired her slim figure, tight behind and long, muscled dancers' legs as she retreated down the hallway, her long braid swaying behind her. He snapped his laptop shut, sighed, grabbed his coffee and headed towards his home office on the other side of the apartment.
Emily and Adam were a successful couple living in a high end apartment in the Lenox Hill part of Manhattan. Adam was a very successful literary agent. Emily was a former principal Broadway dancer and had worked her connections after she left the stage to become an actor's agent and quickly built a large and lucrative clientele. They had money, a lot of friends, good and supportive families and a beautiful apartment... everything really. There was just one small problem... Adam's premature ejaculations.
It's not as if they had just started. Adam had the issue since college, and it had cost him a couple of relationships. He had tried everything: medication, meditation, cock rings, numbing creams and injections. Some had been nominally effective but there were side effects to almost all of them and, frankly, weren't great for romance or spontaneity. So, he compensated. He became an expert at oral sex, one girlfriend even telling him he ate pussy better than a girl. He kept a small collection of dildoes and vibrators as stand-ins. He had even accepted a couple of open relationships just to make sure that the girl got a decent fucking now and again.
And, two years ago, he met Emily at a book reading of one of her client's autobiographies. Ten years his senior and a very levelheaded woman, she shared his passion for literature, art, film, live theater and cooking fine cuisine. He challenged her intellectually, made her laugh and treated her like a queen, showering her with gifts, vacations and love. So, she overlooked his issue and moved in with him. They hadn't taken the step to marriage, and she didn't really need that from a financial standpoint, she was fine on her own. But she hadn't been fucked to orgasm since and it was becoming a problem for her, and Adam knew it. And the more he worried about it, the worse it got. Pretty much every time they were making love, the moment the head of his cock got anywhere near her hand, mouth or pussy, boom. He had even cum once just from the friction of the sheets as he ate her out.
So, over a Door Dash poke bowl lunch in their cozy breakfast nook, she said "Adam, can we talk about last night?"
Adam sighed; he knew this was coming. "Emily, I'm sorry. I've told you that I have tried everything. I know it's a problem. I just was hoping you could... you know... live with it." And here he choked up a little. "I just.... don't want to lose you over this."
Emily set down her bowl and fork, leaned forward over the table, and took Adam's hands. "Oh, Bunches.... noooo. I love you. I just want to help you, and help us!"
Adam stared down into his poke bowl, the humiliation of this too much for him "Babe, I've tried everything... everything.... I just can't help it!"
"Well, maybe not.... everything."
Adam looked up at her, a question on this face. She went on "I have this friend, a girl I used to dance with. She... specializes in this sort of thing."
Adam shook his head "No, no more doctors for this."
"She's not a doctor. She's sort of a... well...let's call her a sex therapist."
"What do you mean 'call her a sex therapist'? Is she licensed or what?"
Emily laughed. "Well, you can't really get licensed for what Veronica does. Adam, Veronica is a high-end escort and dominatrix."
Adam pulled his hands away from Emily's and sat back in his chair, staring at her in disbelief. "So, you're telling me that getting tied up, humiliated and whipped by a latex clad woman is going to help?? Don't you think I feel sufficiently humiliated over not being able to fuck my girl with my own dick?" He stood up and began to pace. "Jesus Emily, where is your head at? Have you gone nuts from not getting massively fucked in almost two years?"
Emily said calmly "Adam, sit down and listen please. I'm honestly trying to help here." and then her voice took on an edge "And yes, if you want the truth, not getting 'massively fucked' is starting to become a little bit of an issue." and here her voice softened "Bunches, that's why I want to do something before it becomes a big issue. I love you Adam, I want to be with you. But this.... thing... it could eventually come between us. It upsets you just as much as it does me, and you know it."
Adam slumped back down into the chair, ran his hands through his thick brown hair and sighed deeply "Emily, it's not even legal. What would happen if it got out that I was using the services of a prostitute? My clients would disappear overnight."
Emily chuckled "Adam, you can be so naive at times. I'll bet at least one of your clients has used an escort service before, maybe even Veronica! I know mine have! That's what people with money do sometimes. And Veronica isn't some street whore. Her apartment is nicer than ours! She only works with the most elite clients and is very discrete. Everything is done by cash only and she comes to your location. So, no traceable records. Does that change your opinion?"
Adam sat there silently, trying to understand what he was hearing. His girlfriend was asking him to go to a hooker. "You seem to know a surprising amount about her business." he said
Emily sat back, took a deep breath, and said "Adam, Veronica and I were lovers for a couple of years when we were both dancing. The breakup was mutual and amicable. We've stayed in touch. We had lunch a couple of weeks ago and I was telling her about you and how happy I was. Then..." she sighed "... she jokingly asked whether the sex was as good as it was between her and I. I kind of broke down and.... told her about our problem." Adam started to react, but Emily held up her hand" Let me finish please. It turns out Veronica has some... techniques... that she thinks might help you."
Adam was numb with disbelief "You're a lesbian??"
At this Emily raised her chin and looked at him hard "Technically I'm bi. And before you ask, I never told you because it never came up. A lot of dancers are gay and bi Adam. Fuck, you're from New York. This shouldn't be a shock."
Adam held his head in his hands, resting his elbows on the table. "Emily, this has been a lot to take in over poke."
A simple white business card slid into his view "Here's Veronica's card. What happens next is up to you." She stood up, kissed him on the back of his neck and whispered into his ear "Love you Bunches." and she went back to her office.
He mumbled "Don't call me Bunches", completing their old joke.
Part 2
Adam sat in his office the next morning spinning the card in his hand. It was in ivory linen paper, heavy weight, gold embossed edges and stamped in gold embossed letters, Lucida maybe, 36 font, it said Veronica. Underneath in smaller font, not embossed it read "Personal Consultant - Referrals Only" and beneath that a phone number. "Impressive for a hooker." he said to himself.
The night before he and Emily had spooned on the couch on their patio, listening to jazz and drinking wine talking about their day. They didn't have a view of either Central Park or the River from their place, but they were on a nice block in the center part of Lenox Hill so they didn't get much noise from the FDR. The only sound on this balmy summer night was the normal, constant rumble of Manhattan.
Neither one of them brought up their conversation at lunch. They talked about their day, their clients and just enjoyed each other's company. Emily was in yoga pants and a sports bra, Adam in loose running pants and no shirt. Emily set her glass down on the marble table in front of the couch and nestled back into Adam's arms. She was tall, 5'11 with the lithe body and long limbs of a dancer. But she fit nicely against Adam's 6'3" muscular frame and, unless he was in ridiculous heels, she didn't tower over him when they were out in public. She hummed along with the soft jazz. Adam loved her voice, she could have been a singer but opted for dancing instead. She was slowly rocking her hips to the music, and her tight ass was rubbing up against Adam's cock, which was starting to respond. Adam said "Babe?"
Emily chuckled "Oooh, somethings happening huh?" Adam started to get anxious. He didn't want a repeat of the night before.
"I... uhm..."
She took one of his hands and guided it down to the front waistband of her yoga pants and said "You owe me one mister."
So he obligingly slipped his hand into her tight pants and fingered her to a gentle orgasm.
Afterwards she sighed and said softly "Please think about what we talked about."
So he was thinking, and thinking. Emily was the best thing that ever happened to him. She loved him and wouldn't steer him wrong. On the other hand, this was technically prostitution. What if it got out? What if he got arrested? What if his MOTHER found out?!?! Her little Queens Catholic School heart wouldn't survive it. But...he knew he couldn't do nothing, not and keep Emily. "Fuck it" he said out loud, picked up his iPhone, and dialed. Two rings, three rings.. "If no answer by four rings I'm hanging up" he thought. Then a rich feminine voice with a slight Spanish accent came on.
"You've reached Veronica. Leave your first name, phone number and the first name of the person who referred you." Beeeep.