by Various
Afterwards, whenever we talked about Tabby, Ray would say, ‘She was hot, but you were the hottest,’ as every good lover should, and I said the same to him, of course, except I called him bad. On future dates, we’d talk about how the three of us had lain there together, after we’d all come, tangled up and naked, the smile on Tabby’s face utterly serene. Perhaps this moment sowed the seed that gave Ray and me the guts to fall in love – the gift of what she gave us, and what we’d been giving her.
As it happened, we met her again two years later, quite by accident in a London bar. A beautiful redhead was with her, arm draped around my old teacher’s shoulders. While we drank together, Tabby couldn’t stop touching me – my knee, my arm, my hair.
‘You’re different,’ I told her.
She grinned. ‘Thanks to you.’
‘Later, you can express your gratitude,’ I joked.
And, of course, she did.
Soul of Discretion
by Mary Borsellino
One of the reasons I’m in such high demand as a concierge is because of my excellent qualifications. I have an MBA, I’m licensed to drive every kind of vehicle in the standard hotel fleet, and I’m proficient in eight languages. I can hold numerous detailed schedules at the same time in my head, but always keep the computer’s records up-to-date as well.
Basically, I’m the PA from heaven for an entire hotel’s worth of people.
The other reason is that as well as having exemplary levels of competence, I’m extremely discreet. I wouldn’t have been able to achieve one without the other: you think all that schooling pays for itself? While I’m certainly smart enough that I could’ve earned a scholarship without too much trouble, I’ve always preferred to make my own plans and do things on my own terms. So I became a call girl.
Not the kind you see in the tabloids and on the news from time to time, the beautiful, sculpted young things who’ve been caught in the bed of a political leader. No. I was the kind who was so good at what she did that no newspaper or TV crew ever got even an inkling that I was anywhere near the clients I worked for. Cultured, elegant, sexually acrobatic, and very, very good at staying out of sight.
I don’t do that any more, because now that I’m a concierge I can make just as much money without nearly so much outlay on my reproductive health and personal grooming. I never have a hair out of place as a concierge, but I also don’t have to spend hundreds of dollars a month keeping my hair strictly confined to my head. I figured at 28 it was probably time to have at least a little bit of pubic hair for a change.
And it isn’t as if I’ve left the life behind entirely. I still have just as many high-end maître ds and shady cocaine suppliers in my speed-dial as I ever did, only now I call them on behalf of hotel guests instead of clients, and my cut of the take is higher.
I still have a lot of the same friends that I met in that old life as well, so from time to time my phone rings quietly in the pocket of my impeccable grey suit jacket, and I hear a variation of the call I received last week. Of course, matters don’t always turn out as they did on that occasion.
‘Cara, you absolutely cannot pass this up, I swear to God.’
‘Mm-hm?’ I asked noncommittally. I hadn’t spoken to Mitchell in a while, but I’d been turning down “once in a lifetime chances” ever since the day I quit the business. I couldn’t imagine anything that’d be different about this one.
‘An old buddy of mine is tour managing for Liam Lucifer and he needs a girl at the hotel tonight. He doesn’t want to ask the guest services desk there – too many bad experiences with people selling stories to the tabloids, you know how it is. So my buddy gets Liam to call me, because my buddy knows I can find a girl who’s good to keep her mouth shut. Nobody’s better at that than you, Cara. You’re cream of the crop.’
‘I’m not even part of the “crop” any more, Mitch,’ I retorted. ‘And Liam Lucifer’s the biggest rock star in the world right now. I’m sure he can get a hundred girls just as hot as me from the groupie pool for nothing.’
‘No can do. They’d blog the whole thing before they’d left the room. Liam values his privacy pretty highly. Highly enough to pay top dollar.’
I want to make it absolutely clear before I go any further that I’ve never let my work life overlap with my home life. The second that happens is the second things start to get messy.
Not complicated; I can handle complicated just fine. That’s practically in my job description. Messy, though, I don’t like. So it’s always been my policy to avoid clients I have any kind of emotion about. If I’ve slept with a candidate, I don’t vote in the election. Things like that.
Liam Lucifer’s album had been in my car stereo ever since it came out. I knew the words to every song within the first week. The photo of Liam on the CD cover showed him with his lip curled in a sneer and a streak of red greasepaint down over his forehead and one eye, like a punk rock David Bowie. I wanted to knot my fingers in the thick, black curls of his hair and bite at the lush fullness of his lip.
When I’d been an escort, those thoughts alone would have been more than enough reason for me to turn down Mitchell’s offer. But I wasn’t an escort any more, and there was nothing to stop me from dabbling in a little illicit fun with my favourite rock star, and making a mint while I was at it.
‘OK. But you owe me one, Mitch.’
I still have some of my old clothes, but quickly decided not to wear any of them. My work as a concierge has necessitated more than enough evening wear and high heels, and it seemed sensible for my mental health not to mix up my former life with my current one. Even if I was getting dressed up to go have a lot of sex in exchange for a lot of money.
I caught a cab to the hotel Mitchell had given me the name of, and nodded hello to the concierge at work behind his counter in the lobby. Privately I agreed with Mitchell’s assessment of him – he didn’t look like someone who’d be able to resist sweet-talk from a tabloid writer.
Liam answered his own door, and was alone in his suite. His dark hair was damp from the shower, his rock-star make-up scrubbed from his unexpectedly freckled face. His T-shirt and jeans looked broken-in and comfortable, and not much like the clothes I was used to seeing on jobs like this.
Of course, I’d never had a job quite like this one before, really.
‘Hey! Cara, right?’ he said, beckoning me inside and closing the door. ‘There’s all kinds of drinks in the minibar if you want any, and I’ve got some weed in my luggage somewhere if you want that.’
I decided it would be a good idea to use the same policy I’d had when I was a call girl: no intoxicants on the job. I smiled and shook my head.
‘Is a cheque OK? I can get cash out but you’ll have to give me a minute to go down to the ATM.’
I noticed that his feet were bare, toenails painted a dark iridescent blue. A small reminder that the affable, attractive man in front of me was a bona fide rock-and-roll superstar.
‘A cheque’s fine,’ I assured him, reaching one of my hands behind me to catch the top of the zipper on the low backline of my dress, parting the teeth slowly so the thin shoulder straps would slip down in one graceful motion.
‘I’ve left the amount blank. Mitchell told me that’s what you prefer. So you can add up all the things we do after we’re done and just write in the total yourself.’
‘It’s simpler that way,’ I explained, taking the offered check and slipping it into my oversized beaded purse, which was otherwise full of condoms, lubricants, and a few of my favourite sex toys. I noticed Liam’s eyes light up at the sight of the light leather flogger.
A teasing smirk played at his full lips. ‘But what if there’s something I want and I need to check if I can afford it before we do it?’
I smirked right back, letting my dress slide down my body and pool, discarded, around my ankles and feet. ‘If you need to check, you can’t afford it.’
Liam gave me a long, appreciative look, taking in my suspender stockings and
silk panties, the half-cup bra which left my hard pink nipples exposed above the thin edge of lace.
‘First course is definitely oral,’ he declared, pulling his T-shirt up over his head. No tattoos, another scatter of those surprising freckles, one nipple pierced with a simple steel barbell. Good muscle tone.
‘Sure,’ I said, going to my bag and pulling out one of the flavoured condoms. Liam put his hand on my arm, stopping me as I moved to tear the wrapper open.
‘Rubbers are non-negoti–’ I started to say before Liam shook his head, cutting me off.
‘Oh, no, no, of course. I just meant … I want to go down on you. Is that allowed?’
I gave a pointed glance down at his body. He’d removed his jeans and was completely naked now, and his impressive cock was very visibly interested in the circumstances. My heart rate picked up a little at the thought of that thick, warm flesh in my mouth, and I had to remind myself sternly that that wasn’t what he wanted. Oh well, maybe later.
I replaced the condom in my bag and drew out a dental dam instead, handing it to Liam and then bending to remove my stockings and panties before moving towards the lushly decorated king-sized bed.
‘You’ve got pubic hair, thank God,’ Liam noted appreciatively, kneeling at the end of the bed and parting my bare legs where I sat at the edge. ‘I didn’t expect that, but I hoped. I hate playing when there’s no grass on the field, you know?’
‘I know that’s a terrible phrase nobody should utter,’ I told him, helping him put the dam in place.
Liam was serious about the task before him from the moment he lowered his head. I’ve had my share of cunnilingus, both giving and receiving, and it was clear to me that Liam Lucifer is one of those people who truly loves eating out a woman.
He used his fingers, lips, teeth, tongue, nose; nuzzling up and down my inner lips as they plumped with heat and parted, moist and slick under their thin latex sheet. He teased my clit with the very tips of his fingers, light enough and slow enough that after a while of this attention my thighs began to shake and my hips began to buck, aching for more and firmer contact.
‘Fuck, fuck, harder, yes,’ I groaned out through clenched teeth, arching my back. I could feel my orgasm, fluttering like a huge winged creature, just beyond my grasp. ‘Fuck, your mouth is so fucking good.’
Liam lapped and sucked at me with an urgency of his own now, one of his hands wrapped around his cock and stroking at a rapid, sloppy pace. He was moaning against me, the vibrations pulsing through every one of my nerve-endings and dragging my climax out of me with a choked cry. Liam followed with a peak of his own just a few seconds later, panting hotly against my thigh, mouth slack with desire and well used with pressure against my flesh.
He grinned up at me, a happy, well-fucked rock star. ‘Satisfactory beginning?’ he asked.
I nodded, motioning for him to clean himself off and join me on the bed. ‘What else would you like to do, once we’ve caught our breath?’
He grabbed a bottle of water from the minibar, taking a few big swallows, sweat gleaming on his throat as he tipped his head back.
‘You do pegging? he checked. I nodded again. ‘Then pegging, thanks. Maybe a handjob or a blowjob just beforehand, to get me relaxed. A little flogging after, when I’m high enough on sex to want the pain. Your tits are fucking amazing, so I might fuck them later if I have any spunk left in me by then.’ He laughed lightly. ‘And some good old missionary with you on top to finish. How’s that sound?’
‘An excellent selection. I like a man who knows what he wants.’
‘And I like a woman who can provide it,’ Liam countered. ‘Mitchell wasn’t sure if he’d be able to get you. I’m very glad he did.’
‘I wasn’t certain at first,’ I confessed. ‘I don’t do this all that often any more. You’re an exception.’
‘What made you decide to agree?’
I gave him my most mysterious smile. ‘I’m sure Mitchell told you that my best talent is for keeping secrets, Mr Lucifer. Some things, a lady never tells.’
Personal Trainer
by K D Grace
The only people named Hawk are either on the pages of sleazy romance novels or in testosterone-crazed shoot-’em-up films. Hawk Sturgis looks like he could fit the bill in either case. His blond hair is a military buzz cut. His trousers are army surplus camouflage tucked into boots that look like they weigh several kilos each. The Rambo look is pulled together with a khaki muscle shirt that, for all I know, could be painted across hard pecs and washboard abs. I look him up and down thinking he’s good looking in a strange GI Joe sort of way. And he looks me up and down like a drill sergeant with a new recruit, one he’s not particularly pleased with.
Because he has insisted we meet at five in the morning, and it’s still dark outside, I’m already mentally asking myself if I really want to do this. Then he barks. ‘Davis, Penelope.’
In spite of myself, I snap to attention. My friend, Alison, warned me Hawk’s methods are unorthodox. I think about Alison, all sleek and slender and glowing in her miniscule new swimsuit, and I grit my teeth. Getting up in the middle of the night may take some getting used to, but if it’ll get me looking hot in my new bikini for the summer hols, I can live with it. And if Alison’s fab new body is any indication of what the man can do, well, I can learn to salute. ‘Call me Penny, please.’
He studies me from under tightly drawn brows. ‘Barnet tells me you want to hire my services.’
‘Barnet? Oh, Alison. Right. I do, yes. Come in. Tea? Coffee? Water?’
‘No. Nothing. Barnet says you want the standard beach job. ’Zat right?’
‘The standard beach job?’
He stops in the centre of the lounge and folds pile driver arms across his chest, giving me a tight-faced look that lets me know in no uncertain terms my ignorance is insufferable. ‘Beach? Bathing costume?’ His enormous hands drop to his hips, and he takes a step closer. ‘You don’t want to look like a lard-arse in your new bikini. ’Zat it?’
I blush hard. ‘That about sums it up, yes.’
He gives me another disapproving onceover, like he can see every extra inch of pale, unfit flesh hiding beneath my baggy gym suit. ‘Gonna cost you a hundred quid an hour,’ he says.
I grab for the arm of the sofa like I’ve been gut punched. ‘A hundred quid an hour?’
He nods.
‘That’s a little out of my price range.’
‘You get what you pay for,’ he says.
‘I understand that, of course, I do.’ I offer an anaemic smile. ‘It’s just, well, Alison said you were affordable. That’s all.’
He holds me in his cold blue stare. ‘Barnet was on the contingency plan. That’s a different matter altogether, more demanding.’
I’m up at five in the fucking morning. How much more demanding can it be, I wonder. ‘But it’s more affordable?’ I ask.
He shrugs. ‘There are certain terms and conditions. Certain arrangements to be taken into account.’
‘Tell me,’ I say, feeling my heart hammering in my throat. I do not want to go to the beach this summer hiding behind a wrap or a sloppy T-shirt.
‘Here are the terms.’ He moves a step closer. ‘You do exactly as I say at all times, and if you don’t, you take the consequences without complaint. You do that, and I guarantee results by the end of our contract period.’
‘OK,’ I nod. ‘And if I do exactly what you say to the end of our contract period, then what does it cost?’
He looks at me like I’m an imbecile. ‘That is the cost.’
‘That’s all? That’s it. I just have to do as you say?’
‘Exactly as I say. At all times.’
‘So, what’s the catch?’
He folds his arms across his chest again and glares down at me. ‘Look, do you want the contingency plan or not? If not, stop wasting my time. I got paying clients.’ He turns toward the door.
‘All right! All right. If you can get me the results you got for
Alis ... for Barnet then I’ll take the contingency plan.’
I’m expecting a handshake or a ‘You won’t regret it,’ or something. Instead, he holds me in a cast-iron gaze until I start to squirm, folding my arms across my breasts, feeling like maybe he has X-ray vision. At last he speaks. ‘You sure you’re up for this level of commitment?’
‘Yes, of course I am. I mean if Barnet can do it, surely I can do it, Mr Sturgis, Hawk.’
He grinds his teeth and his jaw clenches like a vice grip. ‘You will address me as “sir” for the duration of our association, Davis. Are we clear?’
I square my shoulders even more square. ‘Yes, sir, we’re clear.’
‘You will do exactly as I say.’
‘Sir, yes, sir.’
‘You will not question my authority. Ever. You got that?’
‘Sir, yes, sir.’
He moves nose to nose with me, practically breathing fire. ‘This is no joke, Davis. Man’s body is his temple. Keeping it fit and healthy is serious business.’
‘Yes, sir.’ I figure now might not be the best time to tell him I’m not a man. Surely he must have noticed that – me with the tits and long hair and lippy and all.
‘Good. Then we start now. I got a gym I use not far from here. This early we have it to ourselves, but only for an hour, so move your arse.’ He nods towards the door.