Suddenly the receptionist or whatever she was, spoke to me again. “I’m so sorry Ms Cameron. Something has just come to my attention. We can’t keep your appointment for tomorrow night. I know it’s short notice, but would it be possible to change your appointment, from tomorrow night at 10pm to 9pm tonight?”
At her words, my eyes shot to the nearest clock, which happened to be the cuckoo clock on the wall. It was almost 5pm. That gave me four hours before they’d arrive.
I swallowed around another lump in my throat. Funny how I’d been reasonably calm about tomorrow night, but this sudden change, had me nearly shitting myself. Did I bite the bullet, and do this in four hours, or chicken out and cancel?
‘Fuck it woman, grow a spine,’ the voice in my head sounded scathing.
“That will be fine.” I heard myself say, surprisingly calmly too.
“That’s wonderful news. I’ll get that contract ready within the hour to send to you, so please look out for it, sign it, and get it back to me before the studs are due to arrive.”
I assured her I would do that, and after her telling me to have a good evening, we hung up. The moment I was off the phone, the reality of what I’d done hit me. I had two men, two strangers, coming here in four…hours…time that would make it their life’s mission, to make me come; hopefully more than once.
As frightening as it was, I was kind of glad for the appointment time change. Mel had only left a few hours ago. She would definitely be gone for tonight at least. She said two days, but that might only end up being one, if her mother drove her so insane, she had to run from there, to stop from possibly committing murder.
Of course the downside, of them coming tonight, was it gave me little time, to mentally prepare for this. Still, maybe that was a good thing? No time to talk myself out of it.
At that moment, my laptop pinged, and I went to open emails, quickly finding the one for Dial A Stud. I printed the two page contract out, signed it, scanned it and emailed it back.
Another glance at the clock showed, I had just over three hours to go, before the men arrived. I had to eat, shower, make myself look presentable for them, and find something to wear. Bloody hell, I wasn’t even leaving the house, but I was worried about what to wear. These men were paid to pleasure me, but what if they didn’t like me? Men were different to women. A woman could fake it if she had to. A man, due to the way he was made had to get an erection, to fuck a woman. Did these studs ever have a problem getting it up? I rolled my eyes, at the path my thoughts were on. They couldn’t have a problem or they’d be crappy studs. They couldn’t be trigger happy men either. Trigger happy men, were what I called men, who were easily aroused and inclined to come too fast, or prematurely.
No, they wouldn’t make good studs either, so maybe they used drugs to ‘assist’ their performance? Was it possible they used Viagra? I had no idea if they only had to do this once a night, once a week, or whether they could have multiple women to run around servicing in a day. Did that mean the men were bisexual, and would have sex with other men?
I groaned, too many thoughts, too many possibilities, and really not something I should be worrying about. I was doing this one time, just once. I could afford it, but it would be crazy to pay those kinds of prices for sex, numerous times. Apart from the whole eventually going broke thing, the sex would have to be remarkable, to justify spending thousands of dollars to get it.
I looked over at the clock again, and realised I was eating away the time, with idle speculation and pointless worrying. I needed to eat, get ready and drink wine. Not too much. If I got drunk, that might make them cancel on me. I just needed enough, to mellow me out, enough that I wasn’t too spooked, by the time they arrived.
“Ugh, please be good looking.” I said quietly. Surely that was a given though, doing what they did? Still with masks on, I wouldn’t see their faces properly, so they would have to have bodies on them, to have my panties melting right off me. For a brief moment, Dan came to mind, but as quickly as I thought of him, I pushed those thoughts back down again. He was just an incredibly sexy stranger, who had entered my life briefly. He was not someone I should be thinking about. Not when I had two men arriving in less than three hours to service me.
With that thought running through my head, I made my way to the kitchen to grab something to eat, and give the wine something to soak into, so I would be just nicely relaxed for the boys, not falling over drunk and no slurring.
I wanted to appear like this was no big deal for me, and I had to try and appear, at least a little sophisticated. I was naturally accident prone though. My parents obviously hated me calling me Grace. I was about as graceful as an elephant on roller skates.
I turned to look at the time on my bedside clock, and felt nerves tighten my stomach, when I saw it was only forty minutes until the studs, were due to arrive.
I should have asked Miss Gushy for their names, but I’d forgotten to, once that man in the background had turned up, and then the appointment had been changed.
My attention returned to my reflection in the mirror. I’d worked on myself, with all the dedication, of an ‘A’ grade student studying for an exam.
I’d made myself up to give my eyes a more exotic look. Well, that was the plan anyway. Whether I’d succeeded, I had no idea. I didn’t have Mel here to give me the thumbs up, or thumbs down.
I wore a deep brown eye shadow, lash lengthening mascara, light blush, eyeliner and a coral coloured lipstick. I’d debated on the lipstick, but decided, that if they were like others in their profession, they wouldn’t kiss me on the lips anyway. Of course my vast experience on this subject came from me watching Pretty Woman, one of my all-time favourite movies.
Still, to wear lipstick, or not to wear lipstick, was the least of my problems. What to wear was my biggest one. What did a client wear for a double fuck? Did I dress more formally now and have them tear my clothes off and ravage me? I wish! Or was it a more relaxed, orchestrated affair, and they systematically undressed me, and then did their thing?
“How the fuck would I know.” I muttered to myself again. All I knew, was I needed to get my ass into gear, or I’d be answering the door nude at this rate.
I began a frantic rummage, in my cupboards and drawers, and then I saw it. It was brand new, one of those things I’d bought on impulse, then realised I’d probably never wear it, unless I was in a committed relationship. My track record for committed relationships wasn’t so good, so of course I’d had no opportunity to wear it. I snorted at that. No, my track record for committed relationships was worse, than not good, it sucked.
I pulled the blood red and black leather corset set, out of my drawer and held the pieces up. The corset was predominantly black with red piping. It closed up the front, with a series of buckles that were cinched up as loose or as tight, as I wanted them.
There were delicate black lace panties, with red ribbons threaded through them. They were pure lace, so totally see through, and I was glad that I’d only had a Brazilian wax, a few days ago.
The corset had the suspenders attached, so I could wear the black fishnet stockings with it, to complete the ensemble.
Slowly I dressed, all the time wondering if this was all such a good idea. The first tentacles of worry were setting in. I was starting to get cold feet.
When I was dressed and saw myself in the mirror, I gaped. For a woman with larger boobs and wider hips, I guess I didn’t look half bad. Mel told me all the time, I had the kind of figure to bring a man to his knees, but it was hard to shake the cruel taunts, from the kids when I’d been in school. I’d shed a lot of weight since then, but I still held onto all those insecurities from my childhood.
I smoothed sweat dampened hands down the front of my corset, before stepping closer to the mirror to check my makeup, and to do something with my hair.
Before I started trying to style my waves into something that might be considered alluring, I slipped a blood red, satin robe on over my corset, and tied the
belt as firmly around my waist as I could.
A quick glance at the clock showed, I had just ten short minutes, assuming they were on time of course. My heart began to gallop in my chest as my anxiety rose. I couldn’t even breathe properly. I was going into full on panic mode.
Suddenly I couldn’t remember why I was doing this. Why this had seemed like a good idea. I swear I managed to run through every possible emotion before I mentally slapped myself.
Glaring at my image in the mirror, I stared into my eyes reflected back at me. “Live a little, live a lot, fuck a lot, have some fun, and grow some fucking balls.” I told myself, and my own personal pep talk seemed to work. I instantly felt calmer. I could do this.
I quickly brushed my hair, fluffing the soft brown waves over my shoulders. Under the light, there were strands that glinted, with a reddish hue amongst the brown. My hair was another one of my better features, and men seemed to like it. Well, they liked to tug on it when I was sucking on their cocks, or they liked to see it wrapped around their cocks on occasion.
Once I was satisfied with how it looked, and overall I guess I was projecting about as much sexy and seductive as I, not so graceful Grace could, I slipped on a pair of strappy black heels.
When I looked in the mirror again, I could see the tension on my face. Hell, I was beyond tension, I was shitting myself. I should be happy, but I was too busy, trying not to have a panic attack right now. Hopefully these studs were good at their jobs, because then I’d be an ecstatically happy Grace, and I so badly wanted to be a happy Grace.
I was down to a few minutes now, which just gave me time to dash to the kitchen. I grabbed the wine bottle and furtively looked around the room, as if expecting to be caught in the act. Rolling my eyes at my own stupidity, I raised the bottle to my lips, and had just gulped down a couple of what I hoped would be calming mouthfuls, when I heard the doorbell. Fuck, it was show time.
I quickly put the wine away, dabbed at my lips to remove any drops clinging to my lipstick, fluffed my hair, yet again and on shaky legs, walked to the front door.
I don’t know what I expected when I opened the door. I had no idea what these studs would look like. If they would come in suits, if they would be dressed in robes, hell, I had no idea. The only thing I knew for sure; was that they would be wearing masks.
The first thing I noticed, when I opened my door, to the two men who stood under the dim lighting of my front verandah light, was that they were seriously tall.
At this stage, I had no idea just how tall because I was having trouble raising my eyes beyond a pair of very strong looking thighs before me. They were covered in snug fitting black jeans and held in place by a broad black belt.
I wasn’t so timid, that I didn’t take the time, for my eyes to register a nice sized bulge, in those black jeans, which certainly showed a lot of promise, of what was to come. That made me blanch slightly, when I realised one of those cocks had to make it, into unchartered territory, and that was my ass. I made a mental note to check them out later. He with the smaller dick would win the game of ‘Who’s going up Gracie’s ass?’
Slowly I raised my eyes over a flat stomach, broad chest and a lot of muscles. They were covered by a black t-shirt, which was a crime in itself. A chest like that should never be covered. Hell, this man had a chest on him, unlike anything I’d ever seen before. I hadn’t seen a chest like that in real, ever.
I kept going up a l deeply tanned neck, a chin with that few day’s growth kind of thing happening, surprisingly beautiful lips for a man, a straight nose that clearly had never been broken and then, the mask.
The mask was a surprise. I felt like I was trapped in the old movie my mother used to watch years ago. Zorro, since this stud’s mask was very Zorro looking in appearance. It was also surprisingly hot, no, scrap that, it was hot as hell. So were the piercing blue eyes staring down at me.
I gasped at the sight of them. They were incredibly intense, and such a deep shade of blue, I was torn between not wanting to look away, and being overwhelmed by them, and needing to turn away.
Of course it was possible they weren’t real. If these studs wanted to keep their identities a secret, then coloured contacts might be in play here. I mean, seriously, did anyone have eyes that deep a blue?
The hair I could see around the mask was a dark, kind of dirty shade of blonde. He wore it cut shorter on the sides and back, but it was longer on top.
“Hello there sugar. You gonna leave us standing here all night, or invite us in?” Blondie spoke with what sounded like, a trace of an American accent. He was big, blonde, tanned like someone who spent a lot of time in the sun, and when he smiled at me, his teeth looked dazzlingly white, against his sun kissed skin.
I blushed. “Shit, sorry, oops, dammit, fuck sorry.” The words tumbled from my lips like a train wreck of expletives. ‘Great start Gracie,’ the voice in my head chastised me.
“Oh don’t you go worrying your sweet little self.” He reached out, and took a hold of my shoulders, to gently lift me to one side, so he could step into my home. He stopped to bend down and drop a kiss on my cheek, and I sucked in a deep breath, almost swooning at how delicious he smelled.
Fuck me; Blondie was gorgeous, well, what I could see of him. Things were definitely looking up for the evening.
As he straightened and walked into the house, my eyes shifted to the second stud, who’d said nothing since they’d arrived on my doorstep.
Wanting to savour the experience, and wondering if it was a case of saving the best until last, I started at his feet and worked my way up.
His feet were in heavy looking black boots, and they were huge. They were seriously large feet, and if the thing about the size of a man’s feet relating to cock size was true, I was going to be torn in two.
I raised my eyes, and gaped at what he was wearing. Dammit, the man had inadvertently found my weakness, leather. He was wearing leather pants that hugged his long legs, in ways that nearly had me salivating. His legs went on and on, but finally I reached his groin, and again, took note of his bulge. Ok, so the studs from Dial A Stud appeared to be all well hung.
I let my eyes drift higher, and again I gaped at what I was seeing. He didn’t have a shirt on. All he wore was a black leather vest, which was open. He also had a strip of leather tied around each wrist, like cuffs or something. They were broad, a good few inches wide. I wasn’t sure what they were for, but they certainly didn’t detract from the overall, gorgeous specimen of a man, standing before me.
I continued with the visual journey of his body, nearly panting at the sheer perfection of it, but when I saw his stomach, I closed my mouth quickly; suddenly worried I might end up drooling. His skin was lightly tanned, or of an olive complexion. There was no hair on him from what I could see. He had abs unlike anything I’d ever seen. Surely he had to be holding his stomach tight to impress me? Well, it was working, I was impressed.
I reached out, wanting to put my hands on him, needing to feel his warm, smooth skin beneath my fingers. I desperately wanted to trace every ridge and crevice of those bulging muscles, but when I realised what I was about to do, I dropped my hand, suddenly embarrassed.
Instead, I continued my perusal of his body, my eyes lifting to his chest, and it was like being confronted by an impenetrable wall. The man was muscle on top of muscle. His pectoral muscles bulged, and even his nipples were hard, making me long to touch them. He had wide shoulders, bulging biceps; the man probably had his own force field.
He was free of hair, so he must wax his chest, but his skin was not completely clear. I could see a tattoo that seemed to pass, from one side of his chest, to the other. It possibly went further, but the leather vest obstructed my view, beyond what I could see through the opening. The tattoo looked like a strand of barbed wire, and I stared at it for a moment, wondering what his motivation had been for that.
Almost reluctantly, my eyes moved up higher. It wasn’t that I felt I’d be disappointed by what I saw, mo
re I would be sad to be finished, my visual exploration, of these fine examples of the male body.
He had a strong looking neck, which was adorned by a heavy linked gold chain. I moved past it, to a very masculine looking jaw, darkened by a five o’clock shadow.
I felt myself start to melt, when I saw his full, sensual, beautiful lips. When one corner lifted, a dimple flashed in his cheek, and I nearly ended up on the floor. Damn, he couldn’t be real, Blondie couldn’t be real. I had to be dreaming, surely? Men like these two didn’t exist for real, did they?
Chapter Five
My eyes shifted from one to the other briefly, taking in the sheer masculine beauty, standing before me. I mentally shrugged my shoulders. They were standing in my home, so they had to be real; unless I was sleeping, and just dreaming all this? Better check to be sure I suppose. I pinched myself, gasping at the small pain and then turned to the studs. They were still standing there; this was real.
Finally I lifted my eyes to stud number two’s face, and gasped, probably loud enough for him to hear. I couldn’t see his face, because he too wore a mask like Blondie’s one, but because of his more European appearance, he really could pass for Zorro.
He was staring down at me, with eyes that sent a jolt through me. Damn, they were a deep chocolate brown and strangely familiar. They were just like Dan’s, the man from the club.
That was crazy though, it couldn’t be Dan. I must have had him so firmly rooted in my brain; I was imagining this man looked like him. Of course with the mask covering most of his face, it was hard to tell.
Dan’s hair had been slicked back in a ponytail; this man’s hair was loose and reasonably long. It fell to his shoulders in soft waves, and shone with a glossy sheen, under my entry lights. It looked black, but I think it was actually a really dark brown, and looking at him, he was like a dark version of Fabio, the man who used to be on every romance book years ago.
Dial a Stud: Dante's Story Page 5