Chapter 1 โ Getting Down To Business
Casey Darden, M.D. never worked for the woman herself. Hard and fast rule. It must be her friends, a member of the family, her lover or her spouse who hired him. They must pay and keep the fee secret from the woman being treated. But he never set the fee. He left it open for the client to decide. If she received full value; if the woman he had treated was now fully capable of unbridled passion, they were free to pay what they felt that was worth. Almost never had he been disappointed. Almost never had they been disappointed. Fortunately, many of his clients were very wealthy.
Casey's modus operandi was not to create a romantic relationship with the woman. Though he was never certain at first whether or not she knew he had been hired, he managed to let her know that he was there for her. Like a private masseur, like a personal trainer, like a bodyguard, a life counselor. He gave her his card after a nice long talk and then he went away. Give her time to call him back if she wanted the service. So far, nobody had turned it down. He always did his best to signal from the beginning that he was the kind of man who enjoyed a woman's body but did not make long-term commitments. It was true, both personally and professionally. But it was also a balancing act. Few women that he knew liked to feel they were being used, unless that state of humiliation was a turn on.
He had had a couple of cases like that, but the objective had been to bring her back to self-assured, confident sexuality. Most of his cases were women who as a result of trauma, appearance, age, or upbringing had locked up their sex and forgot how to find it. So in a sense he was a detective. He had to work hard to find, first, the crypt or bound chest in which they had hidden their treasures and then to help them to unlock the secret place and display the jewels.
Those who did not know him well but had heard of his profession often thought he had the perfect cushy job. Nothing could be easier. And look at the perks. He didn't try to explain that he was not a gigolo. His task was not to supply eye candy for bored divorcรฉes, nor to tumble into the sack on demand. His job description was simple, "to help a woman with little desire for sex to want lots of good sex." But most of the work was not done in the bedroom. Most women of his acquaintance, and those he had read about needed sex to occur in a setting that was right for it.
There were few like his college buddy Lani Detrich who just went for it when they felt a tickle and stepped away from it without an afterthought. She was his Muse, the one who had started the whole business. He had bumped into her in an Internet cafรฉ one afternoon about five years after they had left Med School. They had a comfortable chat about what they were doing. At that time he was just finishing his residency and she had landed a job as assistant marketing director for a lighting firm. They made a lunch date for a few days later.
He arrived at her office about fifteen minutes early and figured he would have to wait in the comfortable lobby for a bit. It had nice big tan leather chairs and Aberrataz southwestern prints on the wall. But when he started to pick up a magazine the receptionist, soft spoken and in filmy pastels, told him to just go to the conference room and tap on the door.
He did and someone opened it. Lani was in mid sentence of a PowerPointยฎ presentation about some new lighting installation at a boutique hotel. She continued for a couple of phrases but then stopped, apologized to the suits who seemed to be the clients, told them to grab a coffee break, dodged around the conference table, and took him firmly by the arm. She planted a gentle kiss behind his right ear and murmured, "God, I'm glad you got here now. I've been thinking too much about our lunch and not the hotel project. You're going to need to help me."
Using his elbow like the rudder of a small sailboat she steered him through the lobby, past the averted eyes of the receptionist and down a short corridor to an emergency exit door. The alarm had a key and she unlocked it. He was a bit surprised that the lone key was already in her hand. Pushing him through the door she slammed it behind them. With a hand in the middle of his chest she shoved him over until his back was against the landing wall. "Stay there please!" she whispered with a big smile. She was wearing a simple, elegant pinstriped suit with a mid-thigh fitting skirt. She grabbed the hem and pulled it up to her waist revealing stockings with tight lace tops and a lacy thong. Quickly she slipped the thong off and tucked it into the pocket of his jacket. "You can keep those."
Hunkering in front of him, she neatly unzipped his fly, undid the belt and the button and let his pants fall around his ankles.
"Spread your legs a little, thanks. Hmm, I guess you're not quite ready. Let me help." His cock was about at half-mast and, depending on circumstance, was ready to go up or down.
She knelt on the crumpled fabric between his legs. She was a tall woman and her face came just to the right spot.
"You let me know if I am even a little bit too rough."
She took two beautifully manicured fingers and lifted his loose sac gently to her lips, slowly engulfing one tender egg. She sucked on it as though it was the softest chocolate truffle.
"Mmm," low and deep in her throat. "Mmm."
The flagstaff rose to full length and as it did the purple plum of a head squeezed out of the tight foreskin. The length of it lay across her cheek and pushed up toward her temple. A fine clear bead appeared at the tip. After a moment it melted into the fine sweat on the pale skin at the roots of her red-brown hair.
"Ah!" He cried out. Her lips were strong and had pulled just a bit hard. As though to apologize she let her tongue gently wash the nut that was now beginning to do its work, clenching up toward his body where it could release its busy cargo.
Out in the corridor he heard the clatter of cups and the wheels on the coffee cart as it headed to the conference room. Two admin assists chattered about a sale down the block at the Gap. He felt his excitement lessen a bit.
"Please! Stay with me." She begged. "Just a little more of this, now, OK?"
She took his member tenderly in her left hand and gave it a little squeeze. The head stretched larger and her eyes got bigger. A little moan escaped as his tender knob disappeared into her open smile, stretched wide. His butt clenched and he almost lost it. She looked up through big wet disappointed eyes. Then her lips pulled down tight on him almost to the point of pain, sucking hard. She smiled around the shaft knowing he could wait if she did this.
It was hard, and it was difficult. He made a 'no' noise when she started to massage the head with her tongue, knowing that would send him over the edge. So she very, very slowly sucked it into her throat, her nostrils spreading very wide, as though to help, and at the same time suck his man-smell deep into her. She didn't stop until her lips were against his body burrowed in curling hair, her chin against his balls.
To lock him to her, she slid her left hand around and under his balls, letting her long middle finger press firmly on that magic spot just behind them. The hall outside was quiet now.
The hum of air conditioning came from up the stairwell. He heard a very tiny lapping sound and realized she must be caressing herself. Little shivers began to move up her body and he felt her throat clench. Small moans oozed around his cock.
It was too much. He cried out. He had to let go. He wanted to pour a quart of hot spunk deep into her throat.
But with a great gasp she tugged his cock from her mouth.
"Wait, wait, please wait! Hold tight. Let me go first."