Sunday passed quickly. Andrew dropped me off on his way to work and I spent most of the day studying. When it was time to get ready, I sighed and got into the shower, reluctant to go back to my "real" life.
My body felt much better and almost all of the welts had faded away. There was still a little bit of bruising on my ass and my clit still hurt if too much pressure was applied, but all in all, I was pretty confident I'd be able to perform that night without too much trouble.
I only hoped I was getting an easy client like Beverly had promised, but it was impossible to tell from the outfit. I was wearing a loose, one piece shift with nothing underneath. It was very comfortable and didn't press on any of the remaining sore spots, but it would also only take one movement to take it off or even just shove it up out of the way.
I could only sigh and put my trust in a woman who had no love for me at all.
"Marri, your client is here." It was Beverly's voice, and that brought a mix of apprehension and reassurance.
I padded down the stairs barefoot and saw an average-looking blond guy standing there with Beverly. There was nothing menacing about him and when he smiled, his face crinkled, actually making him look kind of cute.
"Marri, this is Dirk, your client for the evening."
"Hi," Dirk said, glancing around, his eyes wide with amazement.
"Hello. Shall we go upstairs?" I asked.
"Sure."
"Dirk, enjoy yourself," Beverly said as she turned away.
We watched her go back into the office before I led him up to my room. He was still looking around in awe, staring at all of the paintings on the walls and at the large crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
When he saw the ornate bed, he said, "Damn, that's friggin' huge!"
I couldn't help laughing. "That's what I thought when I first saw it, too."
He blushed and didn't say anything else, so I went over to the bed and sat down. He looked at me, the first glimmer of lust crossing his face. Since it didn't look like he would be volunteering any information, I decided to take matters into my own hands.
"So, what are you in the mood for?" I asked, leaning back onto my elbows with my legs crossed at the ankles so he couldn't see all the way up the dress.
He ran his hand through his hair nervously and licked his lips. I had the distinct impression he wasn't used to a place like this. But it wasn't my business to learn his life story. He was my client. He'd paid to have some sort of sex with me, and that's exactly what he was going to get.
If he ever opened his mouth and told me what he wanted, that is.
I decided to make conversation to try and draw him out. "Is this your first time here?"
"It's that obvious?"
"You just seem so amazed by everything."
"I'm only out here on business. When I reserved my room at the hotel down the street, the guy told me I should come here for a good time. I guess I just didn't picture everything being so classy."
"Well, if you came here for a good time," I pressed, uncrossing my legs but keeping them together, "what are you up for?"
He blushed again, making me think that maybe I was being too aggressive. But I was tired and didn't want to play twenty questions all night. Remembering something I'd read about men and how they communicate, I laid back all the way, breaking the eye contact. I laced my hands together demurely on my stomach and waited a few seconds before talking again.
"A lot of guys are embarrassed to ask for what they want," I began, using some of the techniques I'd learned along the way at school, "but they really shouldn't be. Sexuality is nothing to be ashamed of. No human desire is bad or wrong as long as no one gets hurt."
How true.
"My girlfriend," he began, but then he backpedaled like he was ashamed to be cheating on her, something I wasn't sure was a good trait since he was obviously planning on doing it anyway, "I mean, the girls back home are kind of stuffy, you know? They don't like to try things."
"Like what?"
"Well, they'll get on top and everything..."
"But?"
"But she, I mean they, won't give blowjobs. Says something about it being dirty, something that 'good girls' won't do," he said, the words coming all out in a rush, like saying them caused him pain or something.
I smiled. A blowjob? Hell, Beverly hadn't been kidding. I could give head with the best of them.
I sat up and looked at him, still smiling. "If you want me to suck your cock, honey, you have to take off your pants."
He started unbuckling his belt and quickly opened his button and yanked the zipper down. He shoved the pants down around his ankles and pushed down his boxers.
It was actually a fairly funny sight since his shirt was partly covering his stiff dick, making it look like the material had some kind of bulging tumor. But I didn't laugh or even smile.
If the man wanted a blowjob, I'd give it to him.
I stood up and dropped to my knees in front of him, pushing his shirt out of the way so I was directly in front of his tool. I wrapped my hand around it and looked up at him, my head tipped slightly to one side seductively.
"Nice dick you got there," I said, giving it a quick flick with my tongue under the head. He groaned and his knees nearly buckled. I decided he needed to sit down before he fell on me.
"Why don't you go get in the chair?"
