(This is my first story submitted here. Please be gentle. I started this story several years ago. I wasn't sure I was going to submit it. I want to thank TheKiss for helping me with my grammar. Any errors left behind are my own fault.)
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The door opens letting in bright light and cheering, muffled slightly and coming from the stage. He walks into the dressing room, beads of sweat freckle his brow, and grabs a towel from a nearby rack. He's dressed in a black suit, simple and plain, with a white dress shirt unbuttoned halfway. His tie is probably in the hands of a lucky fan that fought her way to the front of the stage and caught it out in the audience.
He barely glances my way; nothing shows on his solemn face, then turns to grab a water bottle. He turns back towards me this time lingering on the exposed skin at my throat where my robe is open.
"Take it off, please." His voice is barely louder than a whisper and gravelly from singing several songs.
I untie the belt of my silk red robe and let it slide off of my skin. He watches as inches of my flesh are exposed, all his for the taking. He downs the water quickly and sets the bottle down on the bar, then walks over to stand in front of me. His cool breath ghosts over me, caressing my nipples and causing them to peak. He seems fascinated with my face; I thought he was going to touch me but he changes his mind.
"Kneel."
I get down on my knees and look up at him. I can't help the small shiver that runs down my spine as he pulls his zipper down.
He takes out his cock and wastes no time grabbing the back of my head somewhat gently and nudging the tip against my parted lips. He's clean, all of my clients are tested, but I still have a hard time swallowing a stranger's come, even after all this time. I open my mouth and look up expecting to find a smug expression on his face but his head is thrown back, eyes closed, and he's breathing deeply. I realize then that he's not like my last client, and focus on the task at hand.
His cock is long, cut and smooth. I can't quite fit all of him in, but I try to make up for it with my enthusiasm. I eagerly bob my head and moan a little, I close my eyes and imagine sucking off my first boyfriend in high school. He was about this size and I remember what he liked and how he would reward me if I got him off. I feel my mouth begin to water and a small drop of saliva escapes down the side of my mouth as his cock pulls out too far then slams back in. He begins to thrust his hips a little and I find a steady rhythm to focus on.
He comes silently, no moans, no shakes, just a few quick spurts of cum hit the back of my throat. I swallow quickly and try not to cough. He pulls out and releases his hold on the back of my head. He opens his eyes a little and looks down at me; his right hand caresses the left side of my face, lingering on the ends of my hair. There is a ghost of a smile on his lips as he puts his sated cock back into his pants and smoothes out the wrinkles before speaking, this time even softer than before.
"Get dressed and meet me outside."
Then he leaves. I begin to wonder what I have done wrong. I am hired for the month. I'm not sure what he expects of me but I don't think him leaving so quickly is a good sign. I play the event over and over in my mind but give up. Nothing is wrong I'm just being paranoid. He probably just wanted a quick release after a long show.
When Freddy told me about him I wasn't familiar with his work but I quickly discovered his popularity. Freddy said that this man didn't need to use call girls, he could usually just get whatever girl he wanted, but apparently he needed someone he could 'trust.' I almost laughed when Freddy said that; even though I was one of his most loyal girls, how could anyone trust a hooker? Maybe it wasn't the trust so much as, 'no strings attached.' Despite the fact that a doe-eyed fan would be eager to please, they usually want more than just casual fucking.
I reach for my bag and notice that there is a dress hanging on the closet door. It's my size and a light, shimmering lavender. It isn't too fancy and it suits my taste. I know it can't be a coincidence, so I slip it on, zip it in the back, opting not to wear a bra when I look at the mirror and see how low it is, the bra I have in my bag would show. I slip on my white lace French cut panties and white heels. I flip my shoulder length auburn hair forward and back in one swift motion fluffing it up a little to give it some volume. I look at myself in the mirror and think I look good. The dress fits perfectly, the hem reaches just below the knee and there is a slit running up the side three inches. My legs are tanned and shimmering from the lotion I had put on earlier. I pause and stare at the long scar on my right thigh and bite my lip remembering how I acquired it. No, I shake my head and force myself to smile. I won't think about that today. I reach for a water bottle and drink the cool liquid, blinking back a few tears.
When I open the door there is a limousine driver waiting to escort me outside. He grabs my bag and starts walking towards the back entrance. I follow, curious as to where I am being driven. When I slip inside the limo I see my client sitting across from me sipping from another water bottle, this time his shirt is buttoned up more and he smiles. He really is rather cute.
"Does the dress fit?"
I smile lazily back at him. "Yes, perfect. How did you know my size?"
"Fred told me."
"Ah, I see. Where are we going?"
He seems to become more serious and straightens up in his seat. I wonder why he's so uptight. Hopefully I will be able to fix that.
"'Opal,' a club. I want you to be there but don't act like you're with me, can you do that?"
I sigh, leaning over the space between us. He needs to loosen up, and I know how to do just that. I run my hand up his thigh. "Of course. You don't want anyone to know you're with a prostitute?"
His eyes glaze over a little more, the further my hand wanders up his thigh. He inhales sharply when I brush the back of my fingers against his sensitive cock.
He clears his throat. "Something like that."
I smile. "Don't worry. I get it." I kneel over in front of him and wrap my arms around his neck. He stiffens a little but doesn't push me away. I look into his eyes and see something. I can't quite put my finger on what it is, but he seems to be nervous when I brush my lips against his, then kiss him softly.
He lifts his hands and places them on my back, rubbing up and down slowly. I can feel his warm breath touch my cheek then he whispers in my ear, "I have some rules I want to discuss with you after this party. But, I will tell you one now. Don't touch me unless I ask you to." He grabs my waist and gently pushes me away from his chest.
I quickly get up and sit back down across from him, feeling as though I've just been slapped. He grabs his drink and downs the liquid quickly. I feel scared that Freddy has lied to me, that this man is going to be like the last, but I will go to the club and then politely leave, saying I can't go through with it. This man might even be relieved. He doesn't seem to like me that much; surely there is another girl who can satisfy him.
The car stops and the driver opens the door to let him out then closes it. He circles the bar then lets me out at a back entrance. I'm immediately let in. The club is packed with expensively dressed upper class and there are a few celebrities. I walk my way to the bar and order a vodka tonic. I slide myself onto a barstool and watch the bartender pour me a glass. I try to think about the trip I am planning to go on in the fall. Maybe I can take it early. I certainly deserve a vacation. I wouldn't have taken this new client if it weren't for Freddy's insistence that I wouldn't be hurt again, and it would be 'easy money' that I could spend on my trip. But it is too soon.
The bartender hands me my drink and smiles. "Enjoy."
I thank him and turn around on my stool. I can see the dance floor, littered with people grinding to the music. I recognize a few pros out on the floor and smile to myself. I take a small sip from my drink and feel the alcohol warming my throat. I close my eyes for a moment, listening to the music and relaxing a little, when someone places a hand on my shoulder. My eyes bolt open with shock, I'm afraid it might be him but when my eyes focus it's my good friend, a fellow pro who works on the other side. "Jack!"
"Hey, Evelyn! I'm sorry if I startled you; I saw you and had to say hi."
"No! I'm glad you did. It's been a while. Are you working?"
