It Was in the Cards

Something occurred to me that day.

It stuck so clearly in my mind because it was around three o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon and I was on my way home at the time. Class had just gotten out and I was waiting at the bus stop, having just lit up a smoke and casually glanced across the street. My eye fixed on this foxy little blonde babe standing there. You see she was sorta bent over near the park bench pulling up her pantyhose. And damn if she didn't give a shit who saw her either. The way she was standing, her perky little ass was kinda waving over at me as she shifted her weight to get the pantyhose up.

I even got a glimpse of her soft pink bits.

Mmm, she was looking good enough to eat, and well, you know how a guy's mind wanders from thinking 'nice ass' to 'wonder what she'd be like in bed?' Well it isn't really a big leap.

I was feeling pretty horny and the girl I was dating was away for three whole weeks.

Of those three weeks, two weeks had already passed and even a stiff breeze could've made me hard by that point.

The problem is that the girl I was dating could be an uppity little thing sometimes, but at the time she really had me whipped for sure. She had an excellent, tight pussy and did she know how to use it! And she didn't believe in sharing if you know what I mean, which meant I was left with strict orders to keep my dick to myself while she was gone, and that as you can probably tell from stories is a difficult thing for me to do. But fuck me if until that point I hadn't done exactly as she ordered. I was just aching for a good roll in the hay. I felt a little sorry for myself as I watched that ass slowly proceed down the street and around the corner, and considered it one of life's great missed opportunities.

That's when it hit me like a ton of bricks out of the blue. I wanted to pay for sex.

I felt a little like a kid who is suddenly told he can have anything he wants. It was so anonymous. I got a tingly feeling of anticipation and a ball of anticipation formed in my stomach. There would be no hassles, no entanglements with women, no morning after problems; all you did was just pay the bill and go. Of course, speaking to boost my ego and defend my manhood, it's not like I was really that hard up or anything. I mean I could get a girl if I wanted a lay right? I had plenty of notches on my belt. But I'd gotten a few hookers before from time to time when the occasion demanded it while in the Marines.

Still, it was illicit and illegal. And at that point, being a law student, breaking the law seemed the most attractive part of the deal.

So that settled it.

Why not give it a shot? Chalk it up to a story to tell my grandsons. But I emphatically did not want one of those strung out, pimped out hags that you see on street corners. No, I wanted something a lot higher class. Someone who would show up as an inconspicuous entry on a credit card statement after a discrete phone call.

I could make that happen though, I had no fear.

So with this plan of action in mind, that was when another thought struck me, well it was really a train of thought, but whatever. I wanted a fantasy. It's not like my type has too many fantasies after all. Or if we do they don't tend to be very fancy. I'm a strong believer in getting laid, don't get me wrong. I mean, I could imagine myself on some Caribbean island in a hot tub with a bunch of gorgeous island vixens, but I'm just as happy with a girl who lays back on the bed and wants me to do all the heavy lifting. I was in my twenties and guys in their twenties are mostly just looking for a place to deposit their load.

So, anyway, back to my train of thought.

When I got home I was horny as hell, so I settled down to surf an erotic porn site to alleviate some of the sexual tension produced from my earlier thoughts: you know by reading some erotica, looking at some porn pics, jacking off, that sort of thing.

Probably like what you're doing right now.

Some of the stories I was reading seemed very familiar to me: the fraternity gangbangs especially. Been there, done that. Plenty of times. Pussy in college had been great and plentiful at the frat house and I kinda missed those days. Then of course there was story after story about exotic one night stands. Been there, done that too. Then my mouse stopped on one of those 'poker' stories. You know the ones: some guys get together for a friendly game, some male bonding, whatever, and one of the wives or girlfriends is gracious enough to spread her pussy lips open for all the lucky guys to get their rocks off.

As if that would ever happen outside of a porno.

But this is where the prostitute might come in handy. And lucky for me if I didn't have a regular card game going with some fellow buddies of mine from school.

Ben, Joel, Nate and I had all started law school together two years before this tale begins. We just hit it off, although we were all different ages. Nate and Joel were the young'uns, just out of undergrad, and fresh-faced in their early twenties. Ben and I had both come to the law from having previous careers, such as they were. Ben, in his early thirties, had done all kinds of business stuff before deciding he wanted to be something more. I had been in my mid-twenties at the start and just finished with my time in the service.

We were all the same type. We all got talking about some hot little honey at orientation and, well, the rest is history.

Since the first week of orientation we'd been having our Thursday night poker games. It was fun, nickel and dime stuff mostly, but it was a relaxing diversion from, say, torts or contract law. In three years though nothing discussed during a game had gone any further than just talk, and since it was always a strictly boys only thing, none of our ladies ever joined us.

However, maybe we could have a little fun this week.

* * *

I did my research with a couple of guys I knew that were connected to a hotel. Most of those guys have the number of some good escort services for the benefit of their special male guests, as opposed to just dialing 1-800-HOT-BABE. I dialed up the discreet number that I'd been given and after working through the preliminaries, asked the 'receptionist' for a gal who could handle a full crowd.

"Mmmm, no problem, sir," came the breathy reply, "Our girls will do anything for the right price."

"Great," I said, "Look, I'm kinda throwing a little party and well, not anything too wild, just a few friends right...there's four of us altogether...but I was sort of wondering...do you have a girl who's, well, who can maybe whip up some, well, some appetizers or whatever...you know, maybe someone who can cook?"

The woman on the other line paused for a second.

"You want someone to cook for you?" she asked, a little incredulously.

"No," I responded hastily, "Not cook exactly, just help me make some appetizers, it's our poker night."

The breathy voice on the other end of the laughed out loud.

"How precious!" she said, "Honey, is your girlfriend out of town or something? There are cheaper ways to handle the hors d'oeuvres, mister, like go to the store for instance...buy some soda and chips."

"Look, lady," I said, "I can handle the beer and the pretzels, I just thought, you know, maybe we could have a little fun with whipped cream or something. Plus it gives me an excuse to explain why there is a girl in my apartment."

"Well, I see," she said, suddenly back to business, "It's not one of the usual requests, but I think I can guarantee you someone who can at least boil water. Now what else are you looking for?"

I decided on a blonde, since that girl at the bus stop had inspired this whole thing anyway, even if I am partial to brunettes myself. Nice tits and nice ass, pretty much covered the rest anyway. What did this woman think I was doing, casting a porn movie or something? I wanted a red-blooded woman who wasn't physically revolting, how hard can that be? Once the details were out of the way all I had to do was prepay and wait.

* * *

A day later, just like clockwork, the doorbell rang at six o'clock sharp. The woman facing me from the other side of my apartment door was really much more than even I had hoped for. She came up to my shoulder. Her hair was a beautiful honey brown sort of color, not blonde at all really, but who was complaining? Not me!

I liked this better.

She wore a long trench coat, but it was unbuttoned, and I could see underneath she was wearing a nice slinky little red number that hugged her body, showing off all the curves of her ample breasts and thighs. Oh, yeah, I thought as I surveyed the taper of her elegant thigh as it slid all the way down the back of her shapely legs.

She could see me checking her out, like I hadn't been so obvious anyway. She smiled up at me.

"They told me to dress sexy, but elegant," she said nonplussed, but friendly.

She swept into the apartment in slow motion, and sidled right up to me, reaching out with a finger to stroke my left nipple, and then dragged her fingers down my chest and six-pack. As ticklish as I am, I was suddenly struck with a case of the giggles.

Grinning, she murmured into my chest, moving even closer, "Do you want to just get started?"

I laughed and then realized what she must have thought. I was standing there in nothing but a towel, running late that night I had just got out of the shower only five minutes before the bell rang. Hell, my bare chest was still damp, and droplets of water were running down the muscles of my chest and abs.

"Ummm," I said, hastily reappraising my situation, "No, darlin, tempting as it may be. I think maybe you're too pretty to get all messed up so early. 'Sides the boys aren't here yet."

"Oh," she said taking a step back, "They didn't mention that there'd be more than one."

"Is that a problem?" I asked.

"Not at all," she replied, setting her purse down on the couch and taking off her coat, looking around, "You purchased the flat rate plan."

Out of the coat, she looked even better standing there in just the dress. Hell, she'd probably look good in anything, or out of it for that matter.

"So what was this about cooking?" she inquired with a mischievous grin, "They did mention something about snacks."

"Well, it's our game night...cards," I told her, indicating the table that had the poker chips and cards laid out on it, all ready to go.

"I see," she said sagely, and then she moved up to me, pressing right up to my chest.

"Can't have all you boys go hungry can we?" she said, sounding very matronly, "Well why don't you show me the kitchen?"

I walked her through the short distance from where we had been standing to the little kitchenette that off of the large dinning room/living room. The kitchen counters were stocked with all sorts of munchies for the party. Now I had partially lied, I could cook, and well. I'm not a professional chef or anything, but I had started with hobo stew in cub scouts, and my mother insisted that I learn more from there, as she had said, with all her Cajun practicality, that it would impress women.

And she hadn't been wrong so far. But my skills, culinary or otherwise, weren't the point of this party though.

She expertly examined the various bags and boxes on the counter.

"I think I can throw together a few odds and ends," she told me, "When is this shindig supposed to start anyway?"

"The guys'll be here 'round seven-thirty or eight," I said, "Wanna beer or something?"

She nodded and I turned around to open the fridge and pulled out two cold ones, opening them up.

"Cheers," she said, clanking the neck of her bottle against mine, and then she took an enthusiastic and yet somehow delicate swig from the neck of the bottle as I took one as well, far less refined in my own movements. I never took my eyes off of her the whole time.

My back was against the fridge and I was thinking of someway to move us from awkward into casual, if that was possible. I needed to remind myself that this wasn't some girl that I had met at a frat party. She was in fact going to show up as an itemized expense next month. But as if reading my thoughts she put her beer down and came up to my much bigger body, moving into me as she had done earlier.

Without any warning she placed her hand on my towel, cupping my package underneath.

"Something to look forward too," she murmured, moving in to give me a long, hard kiss.

I had heard somewhere that professional escorts didn't kiss. Or had that been in a movie? Well my new friend seemed to have none of those sorts of inhibitions whatsoever; she was engaged in some serious tonsil hockey.

Even if I'd wanted too I was incapable of suppressing any response. The little soldier perked right up and she pulled back feeling my bulge and smiled up at me. In a flash she was down on her knees on the linoleum floor. She unwrapped my hip-hugging towel, and my nearly ten inch boner sprang up like a hose.

"Impressive," she murmured, "I love it when they're big! It's always such a pleasant surprise."

Clearly undaunted she took hold of me with both hands proceeded to take me into her mouth, giving my cock an incredible going over. She started by laying a soft kiss on the underside at that sensitive spot near the head. And with one hand holding me steady at the base, her tongue lapped over my balls and shaft, causing all sorts of pleasant shivers to run throughout my body. Just when I thought maybe she couldn't do one better she gently took my balls, each one at a time, into her mouth and rolled them around like they were lollipops. Then she alternated that with stroking my steely shaft and running her tongue magically over the sensitive foreskin, and then swirled her tongue around the head.

The size of my shaft didn't faze her in the least.

Something about the criminal nature of the act made me more aroused and excited than I'd been during many a past blowjob. I was so stirred up and hard that I was actually hurting, but in a good way. She obviously had lots of practice, and of course she was not one to disappoint. Taking the head of my cock, she slowly began to deep throat as much of my length and girth as was physically possible for her to stuff inside her mouth, stretching her jaw as my cock slipped further inside. I watched it disappear inch by silky inch until she'd swallowed about half of it. As she pulled it back out her saliva clung to my dick making it shine like the top of the Chrysler Building. Her free hand worked to keep massaging my twins, and I felt so slippery and wet in the confines of her moist mouth. Her other hand slowly twisted around the base of my shaft.

I was getting hotter and hotter, and I felt my ball sack start to contract in anticipation. I wasn't sure how long I'd be able to restrain myself. She continued her up and down motion on my manhood working me like the pro that she was. But she must have felt the tensing in her mouth as my balls tightened up. Suddenly I couldn't hold back any longer, with a grunt, the feeling started low in the base of my legs and washed over me.

"Fuck," I warned her, "I'm cumming!"

I let it all out. And I fell back against the fridge.

My cock was sunk as far back as it would fit into the warm confines of her mouth. She milked me of every last drop. And the juice poured out like a hose, spraying the back of her throat. It was an amazing sensation.

I could feel my dick going limp in record time, as if my cock had been drained of its very life force. Usually I was pretty resilient and could keep an erection pretty much straight through three orgasms without rebound time in between, but I didn't have the strength at that moment to move, let alone cum again.

With a flip of her hand through her silky smooth hair, she stood up and took a deep chug of her beer to wash down my aftertaste.

"Mmmm, that was good," she said causally glancing at the clock, "But I think you'd better get ready. Your friends will be here soon."

"Jesus Fucking Christ," I said, "What the hell was that?"

She gave me a real knowing shit-eating grin, then turned away to begin her preparations with the groceries.

"What the hell is your name anyway?" I asked, finally getting my breath back.

"You can call me Sheila, hot stuff," she said with a glance over her shoulder, "Now go cover up that tight little ass."

* * *

This was going to be one hell of a night if that blowjob had been any indication! It took me a few minutes of recovery time sitting on my bed, before I finally got my second wind and pulled some clothes on.

I decided on a pair of shorts and a tank top since I wasn't planning on staying in my clothes all that long anyway, and it was one of those unusually hot Indian Summer nights that an early New England autumn can throw at you.

May as well be as comfortable as possible.

By the time I checked on Sheila and had given her instructions for the night, it was drawing closer to that starting point. She had made short work on the snacks and there were all sorts of good eats for us set out and ready to go.

The doorbell rang a few minutes later.

I opened it to find Nate and Joel standing waiting. They always seemed to travel in a pair for some reason. Probably 'cause they lived in the same dorm down at the university.

"Dude," said Nate, "You kept us waiting long enough."

They burst into the apartment with the usual macho formalities, handshakes and some backslapping.

It was Joel who first realized something was going on though.

"Dude," he said, in an awed sort of tone, "Who's here man? Whose coat is that?"

"That, my friends, belongs to Sheila and she is in the kitchen."

"Shit, man," said Nate in a loud whisper, which was meant to convey a conspiratorial quality, but failed miserably, "Are you cheating on Lisa? You dog!"

I told them the cover story that Sheila and I had met earlier in the week and she had agreed to come over and 'take care' of me in my hour of need. They were young and gullible and bought it hook, line and sinker.

I introduced them to Sheila. She was clearly closer to Ben's and my age, but she made sure she did just the right amount of flirting to turn on Nate and Joel without being a total slut. As far as they knew there was nothing unusual in her being here, except for the fact we never had girls on a poker night.

Ben as usual was running late, but soon he too showed up and before long we gathered round the table for a hand of cards. Ben took in the explanation of Sheila's presence with a sort of knowing look, but didn't say any more about it.

Sheila was perhaps a little more distracting than the familiar images of naked women on the well used deck of playing cards were. However, she didn't overtly do anything to show any of us her hand, so to speak. Filling in as my perfect little hostess, she obligingly fetched snacks and beers for the first hour like we planned.

Now we four guys weren't the types who play all night long.

There was usually a point after a dozen or so hands, depending on how many beers we had drunk at that point, where we sort of gave up on the game and started shooting the shit. Frankly, that was the magic moment that Sheila and I had been aiming for.

Considering his hand, Ben said in an offhand manner and to no one in particular, "Damn, Sheila looks good enough to eat."

She was in the kitchen at this point, but I'm sure she heard his comment as she was meant to.

"I'll say, bro," said Nate enthusiastically.

"Mmmm," said Joel, suavely, inclining his head toward the kitchen and calling out to Sheila, "I bet you'd taste real sweet after all these snacks."

There was no response from the kitchen. From our angle at the table it seemed like she was messing with something in the cupboards.

I watched her for a minute, my attention wandering from the game. My eyes were intent on the curve of her legs up under the hem of her dress. My imagination was starting to run wild and my mind kept jogging back to our earlier encounter.