Hello and welcome to my readers. Thank you for your votes, PC's, e-mails and selecting my stories for your Favorites listings. It is certainly appreciated. The following is my entry in the Halloween Story Contest 2009. Enjoy. Be sure to read the multitude of stories entered in this contest. There are numerous fine authors represented here.
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The elevator chimes, the door slides open and I emerge. A man and a woman are standing there. I smile at them and he smiles back. The woman, no doubt his wife, frowns and pulls him into the elevator. As the door closes I can feel his eyes on me. Marjorie chose this dress for me this evening. She wants her girls to look both sexy and sophisticated as she runs an upscale service.
The black silk emphasizes my full breasts and rounded buttocks. My shoulders are bare, my long hair cascading over them in auburn waves. The short hem on the dress emphasizes my shapely thighs and calves, the strappy stilettos on my feet complete the picture. I wear a minimum of makeup, giving me that well scrubbed innocent look.
I stride confidently down the thickly carpeted hall, looking for room 849. The Monticello is one of the older hotels in the city, but has retained it's air of elegance and comfort. I have not been here before, so I smiled at everyone as I strutted through the lobby, heels clicking on the marble, passing by the front desk and to the elevators as if I belonged there. I was not challenged.
I reach the room I'm seeking and knock. The latch clicks and the door swings open. My client appears to be in his early forties, tall and fair haired. He's wearing a blue terrycloth bathrobe with the hotel's wreath and crest embroidered on the pocket. His feet are bare.
I smile and say "Good evening, Mr. Burroughs. I'm Sandra, Premiere Escort Service."
He seems embarrassed as he invites me in. I see a wine bottle and two glasses on the table next to the couch. Good, he's a gentleman. It distresses me when I am treated poorly, although I smile and go along with it. It's all part of the job.
We sit next to each other. My dress rides up and he steals a look at my thighs. He pours a glass and offers it to me. I notice his hand quivers slightly; he's nervous. How cute.
We sip our wine and make small talk. He has already paid the fee and he has me for the night, so there is no hurry. I ask him why he's nervous. I already knew his answer, "I've never done this sort of thing before."
I slide closer and kiss him softly on the lips. He returns it with a sudden ardor born of renewed confidence. We kiss and hug and his arousal grows. I ease away and unzip my dress, exposing my breasts to his lustful gaze. I am proud of the way they jut out, firm and high, nipples like pink thumbs.
He nurses on them as a hungry baby. Men are so interesting. They hold a fascination for breasts. He is no exception. I moan appreciatively and pull him against their pillowed softness. He is so eager. It is exciting.
I untie his robe. He is naked underneath. For his age, his body is still lean and muscular, with the beginnings of love handles about his waist. His cock is already hard, long and thick, pre cum glistening on the velvet tip.
