My Father's Dirty Friend

by Ava Carpenter

Chapter 7

  Stacy

  In my dream, I am running through the hotel, my feet beating down hard, silent on the thick carpet. I have no idea where I am going but it feels as if I am aimlessly drifting through the place, a cavernous network that I can’t escape from.

  There is a stirring in my bed that I am dimly aware of, moving the sheets in the subtlest of ways. The sound of the hotel is like a staccato wind in this dreamscape, whispering at first through the corridors like some vague sign of life before increasing in volume, expanding upon itself, growing louder still until it is a deafening pulse that fills my ears.

  My right ear begins to ring with this pulse as the dream itself begins to drift away into a dark haze and I start to return to reality. I’m laying on my side in my bed, my right ear continues to pulse with a strange sound even as I awaken.

  Then, as my body slowly returns to my conscious control, I can sense the source of this sound as I open my mouth expecting to yawn. Instead, the tiniest of moans escapes from between my lips.

  I fully awaken in bed to find my chest heaving, my breasts rising and falling with my rapid breath, the sound of each inhale and exhale heavy in my ear, mixing with that pulsing sound that continues to emanate from somewhere nearby.

  I roll over onto my back and open my eyes and again I let out a loud moan that I try to stifle with my hand. My legs are drawing up toward me, raising the sheets, and its now that I consciously feel the pulse deep within my nether.

  The toy inside me is on.

  At first, I slide my hand down to confirm it, the feeling of my own fingers playing ever downward toward my mound only increasing the sensitivity that pulses throughout my body. My fingertip brushes against the external part of the toy and my nail vibrates in turn, even this gentle touch is enough to push the outer part firmer against my clit and I bite my lip in response.

  Mason…

  I become even more aware of myself now as I look across the room, through the open bathroom door, and into the mirror beyond. There I am in the reflection, sitting up in bed, my legs up and spread, my knees arching the sheets. My naked breasts move ever so slightly in response to the feelings that ripple throughout my body.

  The toy deep inside me begins to range throughout a programmed sequence of alternating speed and intensity that drives my very flesh crazy and I throw my head back as the vibrations wash over me. I moan loudly, desperately wanting to bring my hands to my nether, to alleviate or even adjust, to have a little control, but that just reminds me that the whole point is exactly that: I don’t have any control.

  Mason has control right now. The thought echoes through my mind, and it turns me on even more as I breathe heavily through the vibrations that ratchet ever higher in intensity.

  I bring my hands to my breasts and cup them, playing my fingers around my sensitive, erect nipples, watching myself in the mirror as I do so. The toy begins a slow, long sequence of pulses not unlike the kind that first woke me up and my pussy responds in kind, squeezing against it with every movement.

  Mason is fucking me, I tell myself and I imagine him in the bed with me, his cock inside me, stroking my inner walls with the flesh of his shaft. The thought alone makes my pussy wetter, that feeling of wrongness only makes my clit ache and I can feel my juices wet my inner thighs as I squirm hard on the bed, holding my own breasts against my body as my only support, my legs kicking out before me as the toy — as Mason — pushes me over the edge and I come hard, throwing my head back and almost scream from the torturous pleasure.

  My body seeks a reprieve from the pleasure as I tremble on the bed, but the toy continues to vibrate for what seems like the longest minute of my life before it finally settles down and I can regain control of my breath. I lay trembling in the bed, still clutching my breasts tightly against me, my nipples still hard against my hands, slowly bringing my labored breathing down to a calmer repetition.

  The entire bed is a mess, the sheets crumpled and twisted by my legs in the throes of my orgasm. When I have the energy I slip out of bed and carefully remove the toy from inside me and set it aside. It is pink and smooth and quite large and curved in just the right way that I find it no surprise it was able to hit me in all the right areas. Most of all it seems like it costs a lot of money; Mason seemingly spares no expense regarding these matters.

  Behind me, the alarm clock begins to beep and I manage to kill it before it gets off its fifth high pitched tone. Mason has managed to wake me right around my normal time and I realize I should have expected as much; his inquiry last night on what time my shift started today left me curious.

  I move to the bathroom on unsteady legs and step into the shower. The hot water blasting my skin awakens me completely, rejuvenating my stamina. As I rinse my hair I think of the dinner I shared with Mason the previous night. The thought of bending over his knee, the sudden touch of his fingers against my flesh had sent goosebumps across my body that I could still feel even now.

  Fantasies of whatever Mason might have in store for me today swirl in my thoughts after I get out of the shower and towel myself down. Does he even have anything planned? Again the self-doubt creeps back into my thoughts, manifesting deep into my mood.

  Dinner had been wonderful and we were able to catch up on the missed time since we last saw each other. But I swear I could sense something in his eyes, that he looked me over continually. Hell, he had practically undressed me with that unflinching gaze of his — even before he’d decided to bend me over his knee.

  As I dress I make sure to slide the toy back inside me, my eyes squeezed shut as I feel its girth penetrate me, my mind wandering to the size of Mason’s erect member pushing against my thigh when he’d spanked me. He had told me to wear the toy all day and I was completely willing to follow his orders to the letter.

  I pull on my apron, finding myself having to breathe in a little in order for it to fit. At least Mason had liked what I looked like squeezed into this thing. I look at myself in the mirror, standing this way and that, getting a feel for the shape of my body. Before Mason I was desperate to try and lose some weight, to tighten up, but there really hadn’t been much of an incentive. And besides, I liked being this way, this is me, who I am. If he liked me this way also, all the power to him.

  On the way to storage to grab my cart, I pass by many guests and employees. For the first few minutes, I lower my head as I pass, mutter a muffled acknowledgment, the shame of wearing a vibrating toy that could spring to life at any moment heavy on my outlook.

  But soon that feeling of shame begins to disappear, and it is being replaced with a new feeling, something that is sexual and raw and appealing. I feel almost like I am more in control of my life than ever before, fully knowing how paradoxical that is considering my orgasms are currently at the sole whim of Mason’s mood.

  With this newfound confidence, I gather my cart and my things and begin my shift, cleaning my way through rooms on the third floor first. I daydream my way through it, the trash collecting, the dusting, the sheet changing, but all the while there are only dirty thoughts in my head.

  And they all involve Mason Lockwood.

  It is almost two hours later when I am moving through the second floor and I stop to chat to Rachel, one of the other cleaners. She is a nice and quiet older woman and we seem to get on just fine. As I’m talking to her about the most recent episode of a science fiction television show my phone begins to vibrate in my pocket and I almost have a small seizure of panic. Rachel asks me if I’m all right, that my face suddenly drained all color, and I tell her I am as I gasp for air and read the text message on my phone.

  Presence requested, front desk.

  Rachel laughs and tells me I must have gotten a complaint. She winks though I’m not sure she is being completely serious. I push my cart to the side and jam it against the wall out of the way and give Rachel a quick wave when I step onto the elevator and head to the lobby.

  On any other day, I would be legitimately worried right now, but someth
ing hopeful in the pit of my stomach is keeping it from churning completely. Instead, I feel a sexual anxiety, my mind already deciding that all this is somehow something to do with Mason.

  The lobby is busy with guests bustling around, mostly those awful dawdler's that are checking out at the last minute. I deftly navigate my way through the crowd of people and luggage and reach the front desk where I am quickly flagged down by the concierge.

  “Ms. Bradley,” he says quietly. “You have a car waiting for you, right outside. Management has cleared your shift.”

  Before I can even begin to question what exactly he is talking about he slides off to one side to deal with a guest who is dolling out complaints by the mouthful.

  Car? What?

  I walk to the front door and look through the glass and sitting there among the other cars is a huge black stretched limo. The driver is idling right outside it, standing against the side of the vehicle and making small chat with people that pass him.

  It can’t be this car… I think to myself but I am already stepping out onto the street, dimly aware that I am still dressed in my maid uniform. I descend the steps two at a time, in a rush to dis-confirm what is happening, but suddenly come to a halt a few feet from the car when the driver steps to the rear door and opens it to reveal Mason lounging in the back.

  “Stace,” Mason says as he leans out of the limo. “Get in, we’re going on a little adventure.”

  “But—” is all I can manage to say.

  “Don’t worry, I’ve cleared your shift for you. Come on, are you getting in, Stace?”

  I look at the driver and he simply smiles at me and gestures his hand toward the limo interior. “I guess so,” I say to Mason and duck inside the limo.

  The driver closes the door behind me. The interior is huge, the biggest limo I have ever seen. The inside screen is up and so dark that I can’t even see the driver from back here. And it’s empty save for myself and Mason. I look at him and he lounges back in the seat again, and I can’t blame him: the seat is so soft and comfortable I wish it were my bed.

  Mason smiles at me and I smile back, speechless. I can see he is wearing one of his expensive, tight suits again and he looks impeccable. I’m about to say something to break the silence when Mason reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone and holds it up, smiling brightly. I can feel the blood rush to my face but I smile just the same.

  Alone in the back of this limo with Mason Lockwood, my body is firing to life all over again. He had already made me come hard in my bed.

  And he wasn’t even in the room.

  Chapter 8

  Mason

  As the limo pulls away from the curb I turn my attention back to Stacy. She is gazing out the tinted window alongside her and I can almost feel the excitement emanating from her body.

  Soon the Bradley Hotel is far behind us and we are coasting through the city. I take the bottle of wine from the ice bucket on the drink rack and pour a drink for both of us. Stacy takes hers with a smile, brings the glass to her lips and takes the smallest, cutest sip I have ever seen.

  “Thank you,” she says quietly.

  She turns her attention back to the window and tries to gaze upward at the skyscrapers that pass by. This sense of wonderment and adventure that she always seems to display reveals her exploratory side, and this is somewhat of a turn on. When she first got in I had made a joke about the vibrator, but now I sit here wondering if she had indeed kept wearing it like I requested.

  Something at the back of my mind tells me that she has.

  I swirl the wine in my glass absentmindedly while these thoughts are in my head. Only her voice brings me back to this very moment.

  “Where are we going?” Stacy asks.

  “We’re going on an adventure,” I tell her.

  Her eyes shine brighter. “Is it far?”

  That depends, I think to myself. “Perhaps,” is all I say in reply.

  She nods her head, almost for her own benefit, then she looks toward the partition glass separating us from the driver. “Is that one-way glass,” she asks.

  “Indeed it is,” I tell her. “Soundproof, as well.”

  She smiles. “That’s really cool.”

  “I need this privacy for whenever I’m doing business calls on the road,” I explain. “Among other things.”

  Stacy seems to mull this over. “Other things,” she repeats and lets her gaze fall back to the window at her side. I try not to stare at her but find the irresistible urge to take in her body while she is distracted. Suddenly, she turns to me and I draw my eyes from her plump chest and settle on hers as she speaks.

  “Wait, where are we going? Look at my clothes!” Stacy says, only too aware now of wearing her maid outfit.

  I laugh. “It’s fine, Stace, we’re only taking a drive around the city.”

  “Oh,” she says dejectedly. “I grew up in this city, Mason, you know that. I’ve seen it before.”

  I lean toward her. “But have you ever seen the best parts of the city, Stace? And in such a fine automobile?”

  She gives the interior a quick glance. “Well, I don’t know, now,” she chides, “my dad has had lots of limos. Maybe not as big and fancy as this one. I mean, what is that thing?” She points toward a horizontal panel centered in the floor.

  “It’s my escape hatch.”

  She looks me dead in the eye. “You’re kidding.”

  “No, really, it’s my escape hatch. I am a billionaire, after all, Stace.”

  “You’re shitting me, Mason, I know that look on your face.”

  “Okay, okay. You got me. It’s a television,” I say and pull my phone out of my pocket. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Stacy give just the slightest flinch at the sight of my phone. I quickly load the app I had created especially for my company limo and slide my finger on the screen. With an almost silent movement the floor panel unhinges and raises up and forward until its directly facing us, then the upholstered rectangle swivels around until a screen is facing us.

  “Voila,” I say.

  Stacy’s mouth is agape. “That is amazing,” she blurts out in laughter.

  “It gets all the best channels, satellite feed,” I explain. “But…”

  I press the button on the app again and the screen begins to fold away back to its original position. Stacy looks at me with a burning malice. “Hey,” she says, “I wanted to see it turned on.”

  I shake my head. “Stace we’re taking a drive to view the city, not watch television in the back seat,” I say.

  “Well,” Stacy pouts, “it would have been something interesting to watch when we’re stuck in traffic. Hey, why don’t you have cameras on this thing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She holds her hands up in the air like I’m the biggest fool in the world. “You have the television, right? Why don’t you have, like, cameras on the outside of the limo or on the roof, so you can watch outside? A 360-degree camera on the roof would be amazing!”

  I watch as she finishes talking then quickly sips on her wine. She is so excited for her idea she is practically jumping out of her seat. “Well,” I say quietly, “I never thought of that. But now I want it.”

  “Right!” Stace says knowingly. “That right there would be amazing.” She sits fully back in her seat again and looks out at the passing cityscape.

  We travel in silence for the next few minutes. I finish my wine and look to Stacy to find she is still cradling hers in her hands, her posture now slumped in the seat, her feet up, comfortable. From her furrowed brow she looks deep in thought but maybe, I realize, she is simply relaxed. Her breathing is steady and slow, her chest rises and falls in a lethargic rhythm; her swollen bosom bouncing ever so slightly with each movement.

  “Would you like a top up, Stace?” I offer.

  “No,” she smiles, “I’m fine. It’s way too early in the day to get even more than a little buzzed, you know?”

  I set my glass down next to the ice bucket.
“What do you want, Stace?” I ask her.

  She cranes her head to look at me. “Want?”

  “From life.”

  She laughs loudly. “Oh,” she says. “How about everything?”

  “Really?”

  Stacy thinks about it for a long moment, taking the question seriously. “No,” she finally says, “not everything. But something. Anything? No, that’s not right. How about I want the bare essentials?”

  “I’m afraid you lost me,” I tell her sheepishly.

  She sits up in the seat, hands before her like she is trying to palpate something physical in the air. “I want a great job that I like, something where I can be the boss, and it has to have great money, great money,” she almost giggles as she speaks. “Something constructive, you know?”

  “Creative.”

  “Yes, exactly,” she almost squeals with revelation. “Publishing. Working with writers, that kind of thing. I think I’d be good at that.” A few moments later her demeanor turns sour. “Of course,” she says solemnly, “my dad wants me to take over the hotel business. As the only child, I guess I have to.”

  “Family obligations…” I say.

  She nods. “Yes, exactly… Well, let’s not talk about that, I don’t want my future outlook ruining this nice drive,” she says.

  I agree and turn my attention back to the window. Through the gaps between the buildings, I can see the ocean beyond, the water an almost turquoise color under the late morning light.

  Stacy shifts in the seat next to me and I turn my attention to her and find her staring at me. She quickly glances away to the floor then back to her own window. The allure of her body attracts me again and I find myself staring at every part of her. Slowly, I pull my phone out of my pocket, load up the correct app and run my finger across the slider graphic on-screen.

  At first, Stacy doesn’t move, then she begins to squirm on the seat and she turns her head to lock her gaze on mine. Her lips part and her mouth opens only slightly to release the tiniest of moans. She continues to look me in the eye as I move the slider further, causing the vibrations inside her body to ratchet ever higher.