Penny's Worth

Parts per Million

The surfer carried his board onto the beach and buried its tail into the soft sand so that it stood upright. I was thankful that he was in the process of putting on a pair of long shorts as I approached. That would make our introductions less awkward.

"Hi, my name's Stella. I wanted to ask you something." I smiled pleasantly and used a sweet friendly non-confrontational tone.

"Hello, Stella, nice to meet you. I'm Ryan. Beautiful day, isn't it? What would you like to ask?" He had a friendly smile, in which the right corner of his mouth rose slightly higher than the other.

I thought he was very sexy and natural. He could also speak in more than a few simple grunts, so we were off to a good start. "Do you see my friend down the beach? She's been coming here for years." I pointed in her direction; Quinn looked down as if she was about to hide her head in the sand. Still she obeyed my command not to move.

"Oh, sure. I recognize her. I've seen her around. She's very cute."

So far, so good. "Do you believe in fate?"

"I've never really put much thought into it, but I guess it can happen. What about you?"

I shook my head. "Not at all. I'm married, so I'm asking for my friend, who didn't put me up to this. Another question that you can answer yes or no. Are you married, gay, in a committed relationship, not interested or just think this situation is too weird?"

He listened and processed my inquiry. "Ah, no to all of that." His smile grew.

"OK. Back to fate. Fate might have the two of you meet and see if you'd hit it off. It also might have the two of you alone on the beach until we all grow old. Would you be interested in meeting her and seeing if you'd want to take things from there? No guarantees of anything else, just a meeting."

Ryan laughed aloud. "Sure, I'd like to meet your friend."

I motioned him along with me and we walked toward Quinn. She looked embarrassed and continued to sit there in the nude.

"Have you ever considered you might be a part of fate? It somehow chose you for this?"

"I'm just a busybody. I get enough philosophy for my friend. She has a theory behind everything."

We approached, and Quinn stood. I could see how uncomfortable she was. She quickly pulled on her shorts and tee.

"This is Ryan." I left the rest up to them.

He started the conversation. "I'm pleased to finally get an opportunity to talk to you. Stella wanted us to meet, but didn't give me your name."

I wanted her to say something. She looked at me nervously. She'd never heard my real name before. For a woman who dealt with dozens of men each week, this was something she seemed for want of a better term, shy about.

At last, she spoke. "Hi, I'm Miriam. This is awkward, isn't it?"

"It is at that. But, fate or Stella seems to want to put us in touch today. Who am I to try to argue with either of them?"

My eyes must have sparkled. He could not only speak, but he had a sense of humor.

"So, how do you manage to get to the beach so often during the day? Do you work nights?" Quinn was if nothing, direct and to the point.

"I'm an emergency-room physician. Thoracic surgery, mostly. I work the night shifts. I come here because it keeps me sane to forget the day to day pressures."

I beamed. Busboy, ha. Quinn began to ignore me.

"I'm in real estate investment, among other business interests." I could see she was impressed by what I dragged back. I began a brief walk along the shore. They could handle their own fate now.

By the time Quinn and I left the beach, her attitude had changed. She seemed like the cat that had swallowed the cannery, especially when I tried to pump her for information.

"Do you think you'll go out with Ryan?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"Did he get your phone number or did you get his?"

"We may talk at some point."

"I didn't know your real name was Miriam. I'll always think of you as Quinn."

"I didn't know you're a Stella. I'll never think of you now as anything else."

"You told him you're in real estate?"

"I am. I invested heavily in rental property, especially during the market crash. I own well over a million dollars' worth in condos I lease out."

"There's a lot I never knew about you."

"You just had to ask. However, I never said I'd answer."

~ ~ ~

Room 425; a place I never thought I'd see again. I arrived at the scheduled time and not one second before. I made sure the money was on the table, before I began. "Just so you guys know the only reason I'm here is because I'm being paid to be in the room with this bitch." It might as well have been said, it showed on my face.

"Now ladies, you just need to relax. Come on, kiss and makeup," said Mike, the cute brother. They'd finally been introduced to me. Darleen was the last person I wanted to kiss, but I glanced at the money and puckered up.

"You can use your tongue, if you want." The harpy made it sound like a challenge.

We both stood in the middle of the room dressed only in panties. I put my lips to hers and ran my tongue past her lips. Our kiss was dramatically open mouthed for benefit of our two viewers. In our French kiss, my tongue searched for hers, but she made the effort not to meet mine. You fucking alley cat, this is such an unprofessional snub; I fumed silently to myself.

I opened my eyes in a narrow slit. Darleen was staring at me fisheyed. "Forget it. She's just trying to creep me out." I broke off our embrace. "I'll just lick her cunt and get on with this show."

Bob, the other Brovloski pointed toward my panties. The front had already gotten soaked from my juices. "You must have enjoyed something about the kiss, you're totally excited."

Damn it. He was right. As much as I despised this fuck princess, there was something about angry intimacy with her that got my motor revving. "She just gets my emotions going. I guess my twat can't distinguish between lust and loathe."

Both men laughed and rubbed my dripping cunt through the panties. Darleen insisted in running her hand inside them and then putting a finger saturated with my fluid into her mouth.

"She's not faking it. She may say she hates me, but I think she still has the hots for me." Word had somehow gotten out about how I was initially so taken by her exquisite sensuality at the WHORE-PAC benefit that it had gotten back to her.

"She actually said she wanted to turn bi just for little old me. Can you believe I'd ever take her as a lover? She's such a streetwalker."

I'd learned early on; the term streetwalker is a supreme insult among the professional workers here. Quinn completely looked down at those low caste members of our trade. "They give us a bad name," I'd heard her say more than once.

"Up yours, skank. I didn't realize what a plastic filled woodworker you are." I flashed my middle figure directly into her face. A woodworker, is a pro that does nothing but lay there and allow the John to do all the work. It was an accurate description of Darleen.

"Well, why don't you just go ahead and eat me." She slid her panties down to her heels and kicked them off, before sitting on the bed and spreading her legs. As commanded, I bent down in front of her, placing a hand firmly on top of each thigh. I buried my head between her freckled legs and went to work. She maintained a broad smile across her yapper.

From the dirty hoe's cunt, I felt a thick glob of sperm being pulled into my mouth.

"Oh, I forgot to mention, the boys here have been fucking me for the last hour. I didn't have time to clean up. I didn't think you'd mind, especially given your own lack of hygiene.

I pulled away. The semen was running down my saturated chin. "You unprofessional bitch," is the last thing I can clearly remember shouting at her. I spontaneously came in a shockingly unexpected rush of raw emotion. From there, I can only recall both men holding me down and taking turns fucking me repeatedly. They switched turns in my pussy as Darleen sat on the bed and hurled insults at me.

The more the harpy insulted me, the quicker I came. I wanted to retort, but I was too busy begging them not to stop humping away at my fevered pink palace. I couldn't tell if I had one prolonged organism or it was simply a series of intensive climaxes back to back. I was out of my head with pure lust for cock, and a burning distain for Darleen.

By the time I fully regained my senses, both brothers had their cocks buried in my inflamed pussy and shot their loads simultaneously.

Darleen looked at her watch and stated, "Well, Sugar, I guess your times up. The boys have gotten their fill of you. Why don't you put on your cheap lingerie and trot back to your cut-rate little room?"

I was almost ready to do exactly that, when I decided not to allow the ice queen to get the best of me. "Not, yet, you old rasp. Not til I get you off. My treat boys."

Darleen spread her legs on the bed again. "If you want to waste your time, go right ahead."

I dove in and ignored the drying spunk on her vulva. I used the round and around the clit technique Quinn had taught me. It took ten minutes, but she began to moan in what was probably the first real blast off she'd had in days. She began cursing at me.

I stood and dressed. "By the way, Darleen, Quinn taught me how to get a woman off." I shot an icy stare toward her.

"You two are like putting a pair of Siamese fighting fish in a jar. That was fantastic," Mike said.

Before I departed, we each received a generous tip. I repeatedly counted the money on the ride down to my cut-rate little room. It was generous compensation. An outrageous haul, really. Even five times that amount would not be enough to get me to work with Darleen again.

~ ~ ~

Freshly scrubbed and disinfected, an hour later, I sat at the hotel bar, drinking a vodka tonic to wash Darleen out of my mind.

"Excuse me, Señorita, I was hoping to make your acquaintance." The speaker was a distinguished looking gentleman in an expensive business suit and a polished appearance. He offered to refresh my drink.

"I already have a drink, and you don't. Why don't I buy you what I'm having?"

He laughed at our sudden role reversal. "My name is Emile Suárez. I will insist on buying the second round."

We wound up having that second round, but not at the bar. Instead, the drinks were delivered to the Presidential suite, and we enjoyed them in his bed.

~ ~ ~ End of Chapter 5 of 12 ~ ~ ~