by Poppy Romero
He turned to leave, then hesitated, turning back to her.
“If I do not see you again, please know that my life will be lessened for knowing that you exist, but are not mine.”
And with that he walked out, leaving Camille staring open mouthed as she watched him go.
At first she'd been mad at his assumption, mad that he had so easily twisted her round his finger. She flushed as she pictured how she must have looked to the rest of the bar. Sitting there, drinking his expensive champagne and laughing along with him.
And then, as sure as he had predicted, they started coming over. The businessmen. The bored and the lonely, trying to pretend to be interested in her. Clumsily flirting and dodging their way around the question the mysterious stranger had been so shockingly up-front about.
After the first two, she sighed and told the next one she wasn't a prostitute. He didn't even bother staying to protest his innocence. After that she had another glass of expensive champagne, and sighed.
There was nothing for it. She grabbed the neck of the champagne bottle and caught the barman's attention.
And so, she found herself stood outside the door to his room, a slight sting in her knuckles from over-zealously rapping on the door.
At first, she worried that he might not have heard, or that he was asleep. Or that he’d open the door, and it’d be some kind of trick, a bet among the rich and idle of upper Manhattan.
She checked the card to make sure she had the correct door number. It was right, but as she double checked she noticed a label across the bottom - R. Armand.
So he had a surname at least.
But still no answer. She turned on her heel and was ready to storm out of the hotel, march to the consulate and demand a flight home. As she spun, she heard the handle click, and the door opened behind her.
“Camille.”
She turned to see him stood in the doorway, one hand on the frame, smiling at her. Not a grin of satisfaction, nor of triumph, nor the smug grin she’d been half expecting. If he had, she might have turned round and walked away.
Instead he just seemed genuinely relieved to see her.
“You forgot your card, Mr Armand.” She said, holding it up. Maybe it was the champagne and the disappointment of the sleazy businessmen at the bar, but she felt a little relieved to see him too.
“I see that. How forgetful of me, and how kind of you to think of me.”
She walked down the hall toward him, card outstretched in front of her. Each step seemed to ring out down the hallway, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor.
As she reached him, he reached out and put his hand over hers.
“So very kind. Would you like to come inside?”
Camille paused. She managed to hold her resolve as she looked up into his searching gaze, but inside she was trembling. This was the moment of decision. Continue to chase this mystery, or retreat back to her room, never to know?
She looked down at their hands. “I don’t… I can’t promise anything will happen.”
He smiled reassuringly. “It has already happened. Can’t you feel it?”
He slid his hand up the side of her throat, cupping the back of her neck as his lips met hers. Camille fell into the kiss, placing a hand on his broad chest as she gently pressed against his body.
They kissed in the doorway. Their hands ran over each other’s bodies, clutching and searching.
Camille pushed against his chest, and they stepped back into the room.
The increase in the quality of the décor was not limited to the corridor. Clearly the upper floors of the hotel were for higher paying guests. At Camille’s level, the room decoration had been minimalist and functional. Up here, the room positively oozed luxury.
Armand's suite was soft lit from decorative wall sconces above the bed, and the coving was inlaid with gold. Smooth, light music played in the background making the whole room seem like it was created just for this moment. Even the bed was a king-size four poster, and it didn’t even take up a quarter of the room.
In the opposite corner stood a full length mirror, in which Camille saw her reflection. For a moment she was taken aback by the stark contrast of her red dress in the muted, elegant luxury of the room.
From behind her, she felt a hand snake round her hips. The mysterious Mr Armand pulled her back gently, and she felt a bulge pressing against her hips as he did so. She bit her lip nervously, and looked down at his hand. “So how do you normally do this?”
He took a step back, looking her up and down. “Turn around.”
She turned to face him, letting his eyes wander over every inch of her body, inspecting her. He took another step back, and sat down in an armchair, looking at her. She’d never felt so naked and exposed in front of another person before.
“Place your coat and bag on the chair, please.” His voice was soft when he said it, but there was a hitch of excitement in his throat. She did as he asked, and turned to face him again.
“So, how do we do this?”
“The way this normally goes, is the prostitute defines her limits - what she is, and is not agreeable to. If I find those limitations agreeable, she will name a price. Based on the price and the limitations, I will then offer her more money to remove some of the limitations. We reach an accord, and then we stick to what we have agreed.”
She shook her head. “You make it sound so businesslike.”
He shrugged. “Business is just negotiation. We must both be sure we are getting what we want.”
“And what do you want?”
He stood, and looked her up and down once more. “I want to consume you. I want to breathe in your scent as I feel my skin on yours. I want to hear your moans, taste you on my lips, see your hips writhe against me. I want you to be a part of every sense I have tonight.”
Just hearing him describe the experience was driving her wild, but she reminded herself to at least be a little sensible.
“I um... I use condoms. You know, that's... that's an absolute.”
She had half expected him to argue, but he nodded matter of factly. “That makes sense.”
She nodded, his agreement strengthening her resolve. “OK. Like you said in the bar, this is just... this is just a fantasy. You don't own me. I don't want any rough stuff.”
He cocked his head to one side. “Rough stuff?”
She gulped. “You know. Pain. If I tell you to stop, you stop.”
He stared at the floor. The intensity of his gaze worried Camille, but then he looked up, a spark of amused curiosity in his eyes.
“No pain. But if I might make a suggestion?”
“You might. I don't have to accept it.”
A grin crossed his lips playfully. “Good. But if I stray, please warn me with the word 'buttercup.”
She laughed. “Buttercup?”
He shrugged. “It has... connotations for me, this word. It stands out. If you say it, I will stop. It makes it simpler not to spoil the mood.”
“I know what a safe word is, Mr Armand.”
He looked surprised for a moment, before a smile broke across his face. “Well now. Full of surprises. What else?”
She let out a deep sigh. “The money. Is it just part of the fantasy, or...”
Armand held up a finger. “I said at the bar that this is an exchange of value. What you are offering is extremely valuable to me. More so than that bottle of champagne, at least.”
He took a step closer, taking her hand in his. “Do not undersell yourself, Camille.”
She flushed, her heartbeat making her giddy. “Five hundred?”
He frowned. “I said more valuable than the champagne. You are no common streetwalker Camille. Luxury services require a luxury price-tag.”
She laughed. “Is it strange to find yourself negotiating up?”
“No stranger than it is to hear someone so beautiful undervalue it.”
“So where is the limit? A thousand? A hundred thousand? A million?”
“One million would not be unachievable.”
She nodded, feeling like she might pass out – if he was genuine about this, this went beyond holiday money. This was life changing.
She nodded, unable to speak for a moment. “Is there anything else?”
He cocked his head to one side. “I want to know why.”
She looked down. “You know why.”
He raised his hand to her chin and lifted her face until their eyes met. “Not the money. The money is... I have it, and you need it. Why you knocked on that door, why you accepted my invitation, this is something else.”
She sighed as his finger stroked lightly down the line of her neck. “Because you intrigue me, Mr Armand. So shockingly forthright about everything.”
“Because I call things what they are?”
“No because...” For a moment Camille bit her lip. Then almost relieved, she breathed out and just let it come out. “Because there's so much bullshit in two people just being together. You cut through it. You told me you wanted me, and after I thought about what you said, I agreed. I think I see it now. The money is... It reflects the value passing between us. But beside that, there is something animal in me that wants something animal in you, Mr Armand.”
He nodded, and walked across the room toward her. She felt her pulse quicken in anticipation. There were a thousand tiny hints about the way he padded slowly toward her that gave away his power. The way he straightened the line of his suit with his fingertips automatically. The silken swish of his shoes against the carpet. His gaze boring into hers as she stood before him. This was it.
She had joked with Helen about finding a Fifty-Shades billionaire who could fund a Fifth Avenue shopping spree. She'd just never dreamed it would be quite so direct an exchange.
There again, Camille thought, she was starting to come round to Mr Armand's way of thinking. As she put her arms around his shoulders and he laid his upon her hips, she thought to herself that the important thing was that he was not buying her, she was selling him something. And that thought gave her the confidence to kiss him again.
Their lips barely brushed at first, hers parting slightly as she laid each kiss on the light stubble of his upper lip. As her mouth opened to him, he caught her lower lip gently between his, sucking gently.
She felt his fingertips making small circles against her lower back. Her hips began to sway against him as he held her. She felt his tongue slip into her mouth, lapping against hers as their pace began to increase.
She could feel him hardening against her, pressing into her thigh as he pulled her body against his. Their lips parted and her head fell back with a moan of pleasure. She felt the power of the effect her body was having on this man, this mysterious man.
His breath was hot on her neck. One by one a trail of kisses fell upon her throat, the nape of her neck, her collarbone. Between his relentless, passionate assault on her neck and his stiffness pressing urgently at her, Camille's head was spinning with arousal.
Armand pulled away, and looked into her eyes.
“Will you undress?”
She blushed, and nodded, biting a finger. He took a step back and sat on the bed, watching.
She stepped out of the heels, kicking them to one side by the door. For a moment she thought of reaching behind her for the zip of her dress, but then she had an idea. She turned, and backed toward Armand.
“Could you?” She asked, demurely.
“Of course.” He replied, the smile on his face evident from his voice.
She closed her eyes, and felt a pair of warm hands lightly brush down her upper back. She felt a gentle tug on the fabric of her dress, and the zip started to slowly fall lower and lower, exposing her lower back. As the zip reached the end, she suddenly felt the heat of his breath on her back as he started laying a trail of kisses down the exposed flesh.
She shivered with pleasure, and let the dress slowly slide to the floor.
“Well... we are full of surprises, aren't we?”
Camille grinned. In the time it had taken her to decide to pursue Mr Armand's offer, she'd popped back up to her room and found the lingerie she'd worn for the club last night. Her black hold-ups matched the silk underwear and lacy bra she now turned to him to reveal.
“Does this please you, Mr Armand?”
“Very much so, Camille. Can you not tell?”
Camille looked down at the bulge against the inside of his trouser leg. She bit her lip and knelt in front of him.
“You poor, poor thing. I've been teasing you all night, haven't I?”
“You have been beautiful, that is all. I am the one with the problem.”
Camille flushed, and slid her hand up the inside of his thigh. “And I'm sure I can come up with a solution for you.”
Armand grinned, his thighs parting a little. “I am open to suggestions.”
Her hand reached the bulge, and she let a fingertip glide along its impressive length. “Then let me make a suggestion.”
She reached for his flies, pulling them down slowly with one hand, pressing against his manhood with the other. She could feel it twitch against the palm of her hand, as though straining to burst free and greet her.
“After all Mr Armand, you were kind enough to undo me and pepper me with a few kisses.” She reached inside, and with a little work, eased his enormous erection free of its prison. “Allow me to do the same.”
His penis was a thing of beauty. Poking free of his suit, it was a brief glimpse of the man inside. It was harder than a rock, harder than it had felt pressing against her thigh. Harder than it had felt against her hand while constrained. She gasped and looked up at him, eyes wide.
“Oh Mr Armand, I didn't realise you had such a big... problem!” She grasped it around the base with one hand, marvelling at the fact that there was enough for her to get a second hand around the tip.
Perhaps I should be paying him, she thought.
The hand around the base of his erection smoothed out across his stomach. She began squeezing and stroking his length, teasing it with her thumb. She lowered her head towards it. It smelled musky, but faintly of the shower gel she had smelled earlier in the bar.
Just as he had kissed her earlier, Camille began by letting her lips brush lightly across the exposed flesh of his engorged penis. She felt a thrill pass through her with every twitch, every involuntary thrust of his hips. As she kissed and nibbled at the underside, her hand lightly cradled the shaft, her thumb stroking the tip.
She looked up to see Armand's eyes closed with blissful pleasure. For half a moment she worried she would have bored him. She doubted that an HR assistant from England could be as much of a turn on as a pro, but his face was an absolute picture. Head back and eyes closed, groaning with pleasure, he ran his hands through her hair.
She moved her mouth up toward the tip of his cock, delicately running her tongue along the outline of a vein. She pulled back slightly just before reaching the exposed head, and licked her lips.
“Am I doing OK?” She cooed playfully, sliding her fingers around him and kneading him in her hand.
He groaned. “You are better than I had even hoped. Please, continue.”
She slipped her head back down towards his penis. You're the boss she thought, as she pressed her tongue against the underside of his head. Her hot breath made it pulse with arousal.
She could sympathise with his craving. Her own body was aching for release now. After the frustration of the rest of the night and the sudden, unexpected seduction from Mr Armand, she could almost feel the heat radiating from between her thighs. Now, kneeling between his legs, teasing him with her mouth, she could barely restrain herself from tearing at her own clothes and mounting him like an animal.
But that was not how the game was played. Instead, she slipped a finger between her thighs and began stroking the sensitiv
e flesh there, running a fingernail along the wet groove in the middle of her panties.
If she wanted Mr Armand inside of her, she was going to have to give him a little extra encouragement. She laid her tongue flat against the underside of his cock and slowly slid her mouth down over it. He sighed, and ran his hand up the back of her neck as she enveloped his throbbing head completely.
His hand tightened around her hair, and gently pressed downwards, making her lips sink down the hardened length of his stiff manhood. It pressed insistently at the roof of her mouth, salty and warm.
Armand groaned. Camille could feel his arousal as her finger began to massage between her thighs. She drew him further and further into her mouth, marvelling at his stiffness.
His hand tightened around her hair and she felt him pull her head away from his penis. She looked up, the head of his penis slipping out from between her lips with a wet pop.
“Please, stand.” He ordered. Camille obediently rose to her feet, and stood before him.
He stood for a second, looking her up and down as though appraising her. She marvelled at the way that even his slow removal of his suit jacket simmered with power. He walked round her side, and his penis brushed against the exposed flesh of Camille's thigh. She shivered, still savouring the sensation of it in her mouth.
“Such elegance... You are a thing to be admired... to be savoured slowly.” He ran a finger down her spine, between her shoulder-blades, and over the clasp of her bra.
“Such elegance... but to see you undone?”
He twisted his finger around the clasp, and unhooked it.
“I think that would be more befitting, wouldn't you?”
Camille nodded as she felt his hands slide up her back, over her shoulders, and gently nudge the straps over her shoulders. She let the bra fall to the floor. Though the room was warm and welcoming, her skin rippled with goose-flesh.
Armand walked round the front, admiring her. Admiring his purchase, she thought, as his eyes flickered up and down her body appreciatively. His eyes lingered on her breasts as a smile played across his lips.
“Yes,” He said, almost to himself, “Wonderful.”