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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to events or people, living, dead, or fictional is entirely unintended. Sexual activity should occur only between consenting adults in the absence of coercion. What is sexy in fantasy may be appalling in reality; do not confuse the one for the other.
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I leaned in towards the mirror, carefully brushing color onto my lips. The bathroom was quiet, testifying to the quality of the hotel's sound proofing. The only real sound was the hiss of quick breaths through my nose and the pounding of my heart. Some of that could be chalked up to my hurry in getting here and getting ready, but a lot of it was knowledge of what was coming next.
I'd been having a perfectly normal Monday morning in my office with no classes to teach. Usually that meant time to grade, prep classes for later in the week, take care of committee work, and maybe if I was lucky do a little research and writing. All in all it was one of my most productive days. But then the phone rang. Not taking my eyes from the lecture I was preparing, I brought the phone to one ear.
"Dr. Drake, I'm glad I caught you," I heard Dean Franks say, and my heart caught in my throat.
Dean Franks was important to everyone in my college, but he was especially important to me. Ever since I had fucked my way into my job he had used my creative approach to career mobility to his own advantage. From time to time he would call on me to perform services for important and influential persons, like large donors, or simply to entertain his cronies. And once a week I had a standing meeting to service him in his office. If I refused, my husband, Mike, would find out exactly what kind of woman he'd married.
It wasn't time for one of our mandatory weekly meetings, which could only mean that he had another little job for me. As he explained I felt my stomach curdle. Like most large universities, our athletic department generated an enormous amount of revenue, both directly, by selling tickets and merchandise, as well as indirectly, by acting as a focus for alumni commitment and therefore alumni giving. Like many large universities, we had head coaches who earned higher salaries than our President did, much less the faculty in general, and were rather more popular with the alumni and trustees as well. Never mind that these days many of our athletes only showed up to class to maintain eligibility to play, and cared far more about the draft into the big leagues than they did about earning a degree. Oh, there were still plenty of scholar athletes actually deserving of the term, but it seemed like there were fewer every year. And when you put all that together, the result was inevitable: what the athletic department needed, or more often wanted, it tended to get.
In this case, what the athletic department WANTED was a way to entertain, and recruit, three visiting athletes. This was a chance for us to sign some major talent, or so I was told, and ultimately it was worth a lot of money to the university. And a big part of that entertainment was supposed to be pretty young women who would be very accommodating, and very discrete.
"The problem is that they can't get here," he growled, "I don't know why, Coach Johns wasn't very clear, but it sounds like their flights got all screwed up. Why we're paying for pussy to be flown in when there's so much of it here for free, I will never know. Whatever. We've got the athletes, we've got the room, we've got two hours on the schedule, but we don't have any entertainment for them."
I felt my face heating, "You can't expect me to do it? They're students, or might be! I'm probably old enough to be their mother!"
"No, but it's close, and I absolutely expect you to do it! Coach Johns is on the President's ass about it, and the President is on my ass, which means that either those three young men are going to be on YOUR ass, or there are going to be consequences."
I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. I didn't know exactly what those consequences would be, but somehow I doubted that I'd like them any better than the current arrangement. And if the head of the athletic department and the president were sitting behind this demand, well, "no" wasn't really an option.
"Fine. Tell me when and where."
I could hear him grinning as he answered, "When and where is about an hour from now in the university hotel."
"An hour?!" I yelped.
"Your teaching schedule is clear so that's no issue. There'll be a key at the front desk; tell them your name is Tiffany and you're picking up a key for room 402. They'll know what to do."
He paused for a moment and then continued.
"Get moving and get this done. Your job is to make those three as excited as possible about signing with us. Don't fuck it up, or I'll have YOU fucking the equestrian team. And I don't mean the riders!"
Before I could respond I heard the click of him hanging up. My eyes rolled at that hyperbole about the horses. Still, whatever he came up with, I was certain not to like it.
An hour sounded like plenty of time, since I was already on campus, but I hadn't been expecting to see anyone today. Somehow I didn't think my worn but comfy slacks and wool sweater would do me any favors. I took off for home to get clothes, makeup, and a few other essentials. Then a mad dash back to campus and over to the university hotel. Mike and I lived close to work but, even so, I was asking for the key with less than twenty minutes to go.
When I opened the room I found a suite, with a sitting area, a separate bedroom, and a bathroom, but I didn't have time to really take it in. I just noticed the couch and pair of arm chairs, not to mention the tastefully generic artwork, as I closed myself in the bathroom and frantically tried to get ready. Fifteen minutes isn't a lot of time to go from "frumpy" to "fuck me" but, surveying myself in the mirror, I thought I'd done a reasonably good job.
The slacks and sweater were gone, replaced with a flowing dress of thin, lightweight fabric in teal with a paisley pattern. The dress came down to my ankles and was empire-waisted beneath my bust, but the neckline was a plunging-v held together at the top by strings knotted behind my neck. You could see exposed flesh from my neck all the way down to the bottom of my sternum, with my cleavage on prominent display. In the rear my dress plunged even deeper, open from my neck to just above my ass, leaving my entire back exposed. No bra was going to work under this number, but I'd thrown on a matching blue thong. I'd bought this dress for my honeymoon and remembered well how Mike's eyes had lit up when he saw me in it, as well as how thoroughly he'd fucked me after taking me out of it. I could only hope that after so many years, it still had some of that magic.
I hadn't bothered to bring any fancy shoes, mostly because I was in a hurry, but had enough makeup to give myself red lips and long, dark lashes. My shoulder length auburn hair I left hanging down my back with a clip holding it in place. I turned left then right, surveying my handiwork and decided it was good enough.
I froze as I heard a click, followed by the door opening and closing. I could hear male voices chatting indistinctly through the door. It looked like my time was up. I took a deep breath, straightened my spine, and stepped out of the bathroom, dress swirling around my ankles.
Three men turned to look as I stepped into the room. I put on my best hostess smile and waved at them cheerfully.
"Hello! My name is Lana-"
'Why the hell did I use my real name?' a part of my mind screamed, 'What happened to Tiffany?!'
"-and I'm here to take care of you during your visit."
I crossed the room confidently and held out my hand, "If you would tell me your names and sports?"
'Do escorts introduce themselves like this?' I thought frantically, 'What the hell am I doing?'
