Traffic Girl Jess Ch 08

Author's Note: Thanks for reading, everyone! Looking forward to further development on this debaucherous ride. Keep voting and keep the feedback coming!

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Jess smiled as she considered the two thick, long lines of cocaine in front of her.

"Getting ready for work?" I asked with a laugh.

"Mike likes when I show up high," she said, referring to her client that Thursday evening.

"Coked up Jess is still my favorite Jess," I said and kissed the top of her head.

With incredible ease, the first line disappeared up her delicate nose.

"Oh, god, this is such good shit," she said. "It's hard for me to believe that I used to put up with mediocre coke for so long." She inhaled the second line, unphased that almost a gram of cocaine had just gone up her nose.

"Money and connections always work out," I told her.

"Rita is a great connection," she said.

"Your Uber is here," I said. As was our tradition, I walked her to the car.

Jess's escort business was small but bustling. She had six clients, if you counted her sugar daddy Jonathan Summers, who she still saw once a week. Three of the others were Summers's business associates, and the other two were referrals from that original core of three. So, as it stood, Jess usually had three to five appointments per week. She had dropped to part-time at the plastic surgeon's office because her side hustle provided ample money, and she wanted flexibility to schedule her appointments so it didn't interfere too much with our relationship. On average, she cleared about $7,500 in cash each week during the three months she had been operating. It was our epic, dirty secret.

Work had been a grind for me lately, so I took the opportunity while Jess was gone to have a little wine and zone out watching TV. I was on track to retire in nine months, and I was fastidious about ensuring nothing derailed that goal.

I was absently scrolling through my phone when a surprising number popped up. I accepted the call and put it on speaker.

"Kelly!" I said. "It's been such a long time! How are you?"

"Good, John, I'm good," she said. "Just living that LA life. You know how it is."

"I wish I did!" I said with overt enthusiasm. "But maybe one day soon." I laughed. "It's actually fantastic that you called. I had some ... business related advice I was curious about."

"Oh?" Kelly said. "Are you branching out into a cash business?" It was her turn to laugh.

"Something like that," I said. "So what's up?"

"We need to talk, John," she said.

My heart dropped through my stomach. "About?" I said.

"Kat," she said.

"Okay," I said. "But you know I haven't really talked to her in more than a year. Jess does, pretty regularly actually, and Rita does. But it's been a long time." I didn't mention that I watched her broadcasts most mornings, and it had seemed to me she was doing just fine. There was no crack in her bubbly TV facade.

"She was just out here for a visit," Kelly said. "She is miserable and in a bad place. I need your help."

"Okay," I repeated.

"Is now a good time? Because I could really use you," she said.

"It's a great time," I said, clicking off the TV and pouring a fresh glass of wine. "Jess is out ... working on that ... business opportunity." I could almost hear Kelly's eyes pop wide open.

"Oh my," she said. "We do have a lot to catch up on!"

"Get me up to speed," I said. "You know how much I love Kat. What's going on?"

"Well, I know you know about the pregnancy and the miscarriage," she said.

"Right," I affirmed.

"It crushed her," she said. "She was in a funk for a long time, but she started to pull out of it. She's been doing pretty well. She got baby fever, and she and James have been trying again for most of the year."

"I didn't know that," I said, and it cut more than I had expected.

"They have," she said. "Well, a couple months ago, they went to a fertility specialist, and it turns out that James is nearly sterile." She paused and let that hang there for a moment. "Not completely. But his sperm count is incredibly low."

"So that means," I said and trailed off.

"Right, we both know what that means, or what it almost certainly means," she said. A heavy silence came over the call. "James is Mister Optimistic. He says that if it happened once, it can happen again."

"He doesn't have a clue," I said.

"Totally clueless," she said.

"And?" I said.

"Kat spiraled when she found out," Kelly said. "She had stayed clean the whole time. She's off the wagon. She wanted to do some really crazy shit while she was visiting me. I was able to keep her in check. But I can't do it for long. And I can't do it alone."

"I can help," I said instantly. It was a reflexive response.

"Thank you," she said. "She's not happy, John. She misses you. Now she knows for sure it was your baby, and she's longing for you more than ever. She feels like she's made the wrong choices."

I didn't know what to say, so I remained silent.

"How is Jess?" Kelly asked.

"Really good," I said. "Amazing, actually. She's got a little entrepreneur inside her."

"Sounds like that's not all that's inside her!" she joked.

"Touché," I said with a laugh. "How is your business holding up?"

"Oh, you know," she said in her easy manner, "there's never a lack of interest for whores in LA."

"It's a town built on free trade," I said. "I'll tell you what. Why don't we catch up on the business front another time. I'm just going to reach out to Kat now. Maybe I can see what's going on and just jump feet-first into this."

We said our goodbyes and hung up. I debated whether to call or text Kat. I opted for the latter.

"Hey stranger," I wrote, "just talked to Kelly, and it made me miss you more than I do every day. Maybe we can catch up when you get a chance?" I put down my phone and waited for a response.

I sat, lost in thought, until Jess returned. She had worn a skin tight white cocktail dress. Her makeup was whorish. She looked the part so brilliantly. She walked inside with a million-dollar smile and straddled my legs on the couch. She dropped a wad of $100 bills in my lap.

"Do you want to count them?" she said in a seductive tone. Her skin was hot to the touch. "See how good a whore your girlfriend is."

There were twenty bills. "Not bad," I whistled. "You weren't even there for two hours."

"And he didn't even get off," she said. "We just did lines, and he got coke dick and could barely get it up. I sucked him for twenty minutes, and he was just like, it's not happening, head on out." She laughed.

"How much blow did you do?" I asked.

"A couple grams probably," she said and rolled her eyes. She was really high. "I know what you're going to say. Don't worry. No more for me tonight. I should probably take a couple weeks off from it. Can I get a glass of that?" She pointed to my wine and talked extremely fast.

"Of course," I said and walked to the kitchen to get her a glass. When I returned with it, she had her skirt above her hips and was absent-mindedly playing with the strings of pussy juice that came off her aroused mound.

I dropped to my knees. I wanted to taste her. Her cunt tasted sweet, and she was horny. She put her hands behind my head and shoved my face into her pussy. I ate her with enthusiasm, feeling her clit harden against my tongue. When Jess did this much cocaine, she became insatiable sexually. I knew my night would be a quest to satisfy her need for multiple orgasms. My oral skills were up to the task. The mild buzz from the wine that had set in gave me unusual focus.

Over the years, I probably had spent dozens of hours eating out Jess. I could find her g-spot without effort. It was easy, especially when she was high, to make her cum three or more times in rapid succession. I sensed that Jess was sexually frustrated after her appointment, damming up her desire and need to a high level. There was no buildup to my oral attention that night. I dove right in and hit her g-spot almost immediately. Within ten minutes, she was ascending toward the pinnacle of multiple orgasms. I was determined in my licking and fingering of her.

"Oh ... oh baby!" Jess cried. "Oh! Oh! Don't stop!"

I increased my pace, sensing her reaching a crest from which there was no return. She boiled over, cumming long and hard, with a second, third, and, improbably, a fourth orgasm immediately behind it. I sensed something different as she came, so I simply kept going. She was begging me to stop, but I kept up my tongue assault on her clit and fingers rubbing her g-spot. She shoved her hips into my face, and exploded into another trio of orgasms. I still refused to stop, and she built up one more time. I could sense something new and massive behind this mountain of pleasure. So I kept things going like a machine. And then it happened.

Jess erupted. She came louder and more intensely than I had ever felt. Of all the thousands of orgasms I had given her, this was without a doubt a new zenith. Then her pussy overflowed. She squirted, crying out in a piercing scream of pleasure that hit a new octave. She squirted on me and the couch, gushing juices, and collapsed, her body quivering and chest heaving.

"Oh my god," she panted. "Holy fuck. I can't believe it! You fucker! You made me squirt!"

I moved in for a hungry kiss.

"That was so fucking hot," I said.

"I've never, ever cum like that before," she said. "I don't know what you did to me. Babe! Holy shit! Look at this mess!"

I looked at her with hungry eyes.

"I don't care," I said. "I'm going to fuck you."

I pinned her back on the couch, pushing her legs above her head. Her pussy and thighs were obscenely wet.

"I'm so sensitive," she said. "Be gentle."

"I don't think so," I said with a grin.

I took the length of my pulsating, erect cock and glided it between her soaking wet pussy lips. It bumped across her clit, which made her shudder. I did this over and over until she was groaning in pleasure again. Then I plunged in. It was a long, easy stroke that knocked against the spongy flesh of her cervix. I was possessed by desire. Getting Jess to squirt had awakened something in me. I wanted to fuck her like a piece of meat and show her how turned on it had made me. She could sense it, too.

"Harder," she begged.

My hips slammed against her thighs, my hands taking her ankles and pushing them higher over her head.

"Harder!" she demanded again.

"I'll show you how a whore gets fucked," I growled.

"Yes!" she yelled. "Fuck your whore!"

I glimpsed the stack of $100 bills next to us and got an idea. I took them and showered them over her, haphazardly covering our sticky bodies with money.

"You're a fucking whore," I said, my eyes locked on hers.

Jess smiled. "I'm a real whore," she said. "I'll fuck anyone who pays me. I want the money, and I need to be used."

"You love it," I said.

"I do love it," she said, her breath ragged. "I love fucking for money. I love the power. I should do coke and fuck for money every day."

It was too much for me. I pounded into her cunt and let loose my cum. A wave of warmth swept over Jess, and she moaned contentedly. I collapsed on top of her, and we kissed.

"That's my special treat, though," I said. "Filling your cunt with cum."

She smiled wickedly. "Unless someone pays me enough," she said. "Or has a really big dick. Or just does what he wants."

My cock twitched inside her again.

"You like that, don't you?" Jess said. "I'm not just a whore. I'm a dirty whore."

"I love you," I said.

We uncoupled. It had been an intense fuck. I was spent. I poured us two glasses of water and refilled our wine glasses.

"So I had an interesting phone call while you were gone," I said.

"What was that?" Jess asked.

"It was from Kelly, Kat's friend in LA," I said.

"Really?" she said with genuine surprise.

"She's worried about Kat, and she asked me to help," I said.

I replayed the conversation with Kelly for Jess.

"Has Kat responded?" Jess asked. I shook my head.

"When was the last time you heard from her?" I asked.

"A couple days ago," she said. "Has she responded to you?"

"She hadn't," I said. "But I was distracted for a little bit." I gave her nipple a playful tweak, then looked for my phone.

A lump formed in my throat when I looked at the screen.

"Can we meet for a drink?" Kat had written back.