The Escort Trilogy (Books 1-3)

by Ashley Love

  I smiled. "Don't try to understand me, Troy. I'm a woman."

  He laughed sharply, lowering his head for a moment. "Got me there."

  The waitress returned with his drink. I told her we needed some more time with the menu. Troy looked back up once we were alone again.

  "Tell me this is only what I think it is," he said.

  I recognized those words, the same ones I had said to him so long ago. "And what do you think it is?" I asked.

  His eyes held mine. "That this is just a beautiful young woman who wants to return to what she loves," he said. "And not some attempt to get back at me for a mistake."

  I took in his face, his expressions, the slight and subtle play of his emotions. He was afraid of me, I realized. Afraid of what I knew, and that I could ruin him because of it.

  "We all make mistakes, Troy," I said. "I don't want to dwell on them anymore. I just want to go back to being alive."

  He stared for a long moment, trying to decide if I was being serious or just bullshitting him. I gave him time, letting him look, letting him read me. Finally, he nodded slowly.

  "All right."

  The rest of our lunch was thankfully less tense, although there were moments in which either Troy or I fell silent, not knowing what to say. He told me that Jenny had just turned twenty. She and her fiancé Ross had gone to Spain for a week to celebrate. I gave him an abbreviated account of the holidays at home, and we shared a few stories about the season.

  I didn't understand why, at the time, but being with Troy, talking about family and friends and hearth and home...it was strangely arousing. Or perhaps it was the fact that I was with him again, after being away for so long, and hearing his voice, reading his gorgeous dark eyes...

  He followed me to my hotel room. We rode the elevator in silence, neither one of us wanting to take the chance at ruining the moment by speaking. Once through the door, I headed past the bed, dropping my jacket to the floor and pulling my shirt over my head. I unzipped and pushed down my jeans, stepped out of my panties. Naked except for my jewelry, I stood before the uncurtained balcony door, tracing my fingers along the line of frost on the other side.

  I sighed when Troy's hands slid up my sides, from my slender hips, along my tapered waist, to my breasts. His strong hands cupped them, squeezing gently. I leaned back against him, feeling his nakedness. I placed my hands over his and urged him on. His touch was incredible.

  He kissed and gently sucked at the base of my neck, his fingers playing across my nipples. My puffy areolas swelled and grew darker. I felt his stiff penis gently prodding between my cheeks. I was unbearably aroused. I reached back between us, feeling the stiffness of him, the slick fluid that oozed from within. Troy shuddered slightly against me as my expert fingers tickled and massaged him. My instincts had not faded.

  Troy pushed me against the glass door and kissed his way down my back. I was sighing and moaning softly, anticipating the feel, the love of him. I arched my back and panted hotly on the window when his tongue slipped between my cheeks, tasting me, licking up and down places that had not been touched in ages. I arched my back and pushed back, giving him better access.

  My orgasm didn't take long. In over two months, I hadn't even masturbated. The ache for release that I felt was undeniable. And with Troy's caressing tongue, his probing fingers, his warm breath and soft sighs between my legs....

  I shook and moaned when I came, reaching back to grip his head and keep his mouth where I wanted it, where I needed it. Troy kept sucking me, lightly scratching his fingertips up and down my thighs. I panted with each subsequent orgasm, until the window before me was all but completely obscured from my hot breath.

  Consumed with raw desire, I shoved Troy back onto the floor and turned around. He stared up at me, his face impassioned and slick from my juices. I straddled him quickly, sucking his lips with my own, tasting my own tangy cum as I reached down and guided his stiff penis inside me.

  We both groaned at the reunion, the sexual marriage of dick and pussy. He kneaded and massaged my breasts as I bounced up and down on him, shoving his magnificent cock as deep as it would go. He watched me with eyes that were both amazed and grateful, staring into my soul as I gave him every ounce of my passion, my lust...my love.

  "Oh, Allie!" he cried.

  "Oh, Troy! Troy!"

  I toppled over backward, slapping my hands to the floor and thrusting my breasts to the ceiling as I rode him hard, my body quaking in orgasm. I squeezed his length inside me, urging him to cum, wanting to feel it inside me.

  Troy gasped aloud when he erupted, arching his back deeply and feeding my womb. I felt every thick, hot, intense jet of his semen, and squeezed and fucked him harder to milk his dick of every precious drop. His orgasm inspired my own, and I screeched my way through it. Troy winced, holding out as long as he could, wanting to give me the sensations I so desperately craved.

  I finally stopped moving, panting, catching my breath as Troy did the same. I felt refueled, my libido screaming for more. Slipping off him, his wet dick slapping to his abdomen, I doubled over and slid down, sucking him deep into my mouth, all the way to the root. I moaned at tasting him, sucking the residue of his orgasm, tasting our mingled fluid around his dick. Troy grunted, almost in pain, gripping my head in his hands.

  I felt his thick cum dripping out from inside me, to the floor below. I reached down and smeared my fingers in the stuff, then wiped it along his shaft as I sucked up and down. Troy remained hard, either inspired or intimidated by my sexuality, I wasn't sure which. It really didn't matter.

  "Jesus, Allie," he panted, recovering, shaking slightly from aftershocks as I massaged the head of his cock with my lips.

  "Mmm," I moaned, and took my mouth off him, stroking his shaft with my slick hand. "I love you, Troy," I whispered.

  He made a choking sound then, one that sounded like surrender. And for the first time, I saw a tear drip from his eye.

  We made love all night and all the following day, taking breaks only to answer the knock from room service, and to smoke, drink, and sleep. We didn't really talk all that much; there was really no need to. Aside from all the little details of our lives, we had said all there was to say. Troy and I somehow understood each other on a deeper level than most.

  Late that second night, I lay in bed, unashamedly nude, curled up on my side as I watched him get dressed. He didn't want to leave, that much I could tell; but if he stayed, it meant giving in even more to me than he already had. And he had already given me too much.

  I didn't need to hear his words to the effect to know that he loved me. Yet, even with that realization, and my own proclamations, I knew that I would never have Troy the way I wanted. I would never be his wife, would never bear his children. And as before, I was content with that. It just seemed right that our love existed the way it did.

  He didn't say anything as he left. He just smiled, with a look of complete adoration on his handsome face, and I smiled back. I didn't cry when the door closed.

  7

  Unlike Troy, Cleo was not as surprised to hear from me again, although that was probably because he had told her I was back before I called. Still, she evidenced some concern.

  "Are you sure you want to come back?" she asked me.

  "Yes," I said. "I'm positive. I'm ready, Cleo."

  She sighed into the phone. "All right, well...when do you want to start?"

  "Give me a week," I said. "I need to get settled in."

  I had come back just a few days before the start of the spring semester. I managed to sign up for all the classes I had dropped out of, and needed the time to buy books and supplies, and find a new apartment. The place I chose was a slightly overpriced one bedroom apartment not far from campus. I hired some movers to transfer my furniture and boxes from storage to the new place.

  I only signed a six-month lease. Something told me I wouldn't be around for longer than that.

  I started taking da
tes as soon as I was comfortable with my classes and my new apartment. That first night, clad in a tight green dress and glittering with jewelry, I answered the door to see a thankfully familiar face.

  "Miss Yvette?"

  I smiled. "Hi, Logan."

  He smiled back, eyes drifting over me. "You look beautiful," he said, then smiled again. "But then, that's a given."

  I reached up and touched his face. He didn't flinch. "You're so sweet," I said.

  He gently took my hand away, reminding me of our places. His eyes were strong and serious when he asked, "Are you sure you're ready?"

  I nodded without hesitation. "I'm ready. Especially now."

  Logan pursed his lips for a moment. If he was capable, I swear he would have blushed. He held up a new, tiny black phone. "Hang on to this."

  I took it, dropped it into my purse. "I will," I said, then smiled once more. "Show the way, Logan."

  My date that evening was a funny little man named Milton Godfrey. From the moment we met in his hotel room, he made me laugh. He was a round-bodied little guy who had shaved off what little hair he had left on his head and spoke with extreme self-confidence and verve. He had a quick wit and a sense of humor that switched back and forth from crude bathroom jokes to high-brow complexity.

  I was not surprised when Milton took me to see a famous comedian on tour following dinner. Milton seemed to regard comedy as a high art. He was so endearing and raucous that I couldn't help but want to hang off him, just to share his zeal for life.

  The comedian we saw was popularly known for his cheesy one-liners on a popular amateur video show, and I was not prepared for his decidedly raw and adult humor. At one point, since Milton and I sat so close to the stage, he made comments about the difference in our ages, and my appearance, and remarked that he wished he was a 'fat old man with money.'

  "Let me know if you wanna see what a real funny dick tastes like, honey!" he said into the microphone as he ogled me from the stage.

  I was blushing deeply and convulsing in laughter at that point, and barely managed to blurt out, "I will!"

  The comedian looked at Milton and said, "Sir, I salute you. And if I read about you in the obituaries tomorrow, I won't be surprised."

  Milton was a good sport. "Neither will I!" he yelled.

  By the time we got back to his limo, all the sexual innuendo had taken it's toll. Once the door was closed, I rolled over and straddled Milton's lap, giving him a hungry look.

  "Can I tickle your funny bone, now?" I said in my most sultry, slutty way, as I began unzipping his slacks.

  He stared at me with lust in his eyes as I scooted down his body and fished out his stiff, sleek dick, rubbing it all around my cheeks and mouth. "No more jokes, then?" he asked.

  I licked up and down his rigid pole and kissed the underside of the slippery head, tasting his sticky cream. "You can, if you want. Just no dumb blonde jokes."

  Milton chuckled. "Well, there goes my repertoire...mmm.."

  It was late February when I saw her again. I had been reluctant to call Mya since my return, not sure of what to say. We had talked a few times over the phone during my 'break,' and the subject of my coming back had never really been addressed. And since I had returned to the vocation that Mya obviously had problems with, I was even more reluctant to let her know I was back.

  But that afternoon, as I sat at one of the outdoor stone benches in the Quad, fate seemed to have decided for us.

  I saw her walking amongst a group of girls, chatting with Julie, and I watched them walk past me. Mya suddenly stopped, glanced back my way. Her lips parted and her eyes widened.

  "Allie?"

  I managed a smile. "Hi, Mya."

  She grinned then, a happy, 'I can't believe it's you!' splitting of her face, and ran up to greet me. I just managed to stand in time to meet her charge. We hugged, and kissed, and hugged some more. I squeezed her tight, never more aware than I was at that moment of how much I had missed her.

  "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, pulling back with a hurt look. "Damn it, Allie! I'm your best friend, aren't I?"

  I smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry," I said. "I-I wanted to call you, I just..."

  Mya gave me a big smile. "Hey, it doesn't matter. I know it's been rough on you. If I can't understand that, what kind of friend am I?"

  I was touched by her apparently total acceptance. "Thanks, Mya," I said. "That means a lot to me."

  She bit her lip and grabbed my hand. "Hey, come on. We're all gonna go get fat on ice cream sundaes and see a chick-flick."

  I squirmed a little, glancing at the other girls who were watching us with interest. I noticed the sympathetic smile Julie gave me, and remembered what Mya had told me about her.

  "Come on," urged Mya, pulling on my hands. "You can't possibly have anything better to do!"

  I laughed. "You know what? You're absolutely right."

  8

  It was the morning of April 7th. I could never forget that day no matter how much I wanted to. I awoke around ten, felling pleasantly tired after my latest date. He had been a very robust man, strong, stocky, and obviously lacking for female attention. He was pretty straight-laced and didn't speak much throughout the evening, but once he got me back to his hotel room...

  Oh. My. God. The man had stamina like you wouldn't believe, coupled with an impressive dick to surpass Troy's. He had wanted to 'go around the world' as he put it, and I realized just what he meant when he took me every way I had ever conceived, including a couple of positions I had never heard of. His favorite position was what he called 'Froggy,' in which we both squatted on the bed while he shoved his fat cock inside me from behind.

  I don't think I ever came as much in one night as I did with that man. I literally stumbled to the Lincoln the following morning, prompting Logan to ask me if everything was all right.

  "Everything's fine," I sighed, lighting a cigarette as I collapsed in the back of the car. "Just take me home."

  I was glad that I didn't have a date lined up for the evening. It was a Sunday, and I anticipated doing nothing more than watching TV and call up Mya for a late lunch. I soaked in the tub for a while, washed my hair, and slipped on a silk robe once I got out. I couldn't stop smiling as I cracked open a bottle of strawberry vodka and mixed a cocktail. Yeah, I know, it was one in the afternoon and I hadn't had anything to eat. Sue me.

  I was watching some Law & Order reruns when the knock came. I frowned. It wasn't Mya, or Troy, or Cleo, or even Logan, I knew. They all had their own knocks. This one was loud, hard, business-like. I wondered if I should answer.

  I peered through the peep-hole, and saw two men standing on my doorstep. One was middle-aged, the other young and professionally handsome. Both wore suits.

  I frowned, considered again about ignoring their presence. Then the good-looking one knocked again.

  "Miss Green!"

  I sighed. Obviously not Jehovah's Witnesses, I thought, and turned the locks. I pulled open the door just a crack. "Can I help you?" I said innocently.

  The pretty-boy one looked me over, stealing a glimpse between the folds of my robe. "Alyssa Green?" he asked.

  I clutched my robe closed, giving the lecher a look. "She's not home," I said.

  The older one, his suit well-worn and threadbare, gave me an annoyed look. "Save the act, Miss Green," he said gruffly. "We're not here to arrest you."

  I didn't budge, and looked back at the younger one. "What do you want?"

  He smirked, reached inside his jacket, producing a slim billfold that he snapped open. "Arni Detweiler," he said, as if I should know the name. "From the District Attorney's office. This is Detective Sam Clay—"

  "Lieutenant Detective," corrected the older one.

  "We'd like to ask you some questions about Troy Holloway," finished the younger one.

  I stiffened. "I don't know anyone by that name," I said, and started to close the door. The detective's strong hand smacked ag
ainst it.

  "Miss Green," said Detweiler in a condescending tone. "Don't make things harder on yourself. All we want is a few answers. That's all."

  My eyes darted back and forth between them, noting the way they were both trying to sneak peeks at me. "Fine," I said, and stepped back. "Wipe your shoes."

  I went to my couch and sat down, not fixing the flimsy fabric of my robe as it slipped off my thighs. I sat with my legs together, and knew that if I shifted my thighs even the slightest bit, my entire vagina would be on display. The two men picked up on that right away.

  "Nice place," Arni commented, as the detective closed the door. "Lots of space."

  I sighed, leaning forward, not caring that the majority of my cleavage was revealed as I reached for my cigarettes. I snapped the case open, took out a smoke, and lit it with the matching gold lighter. The two men seemed to be hanging on my every move.

  "What do you want?" I asked again. I didn't like these two men, the younger one in particular. There was something...greasy about him. But then, he was a lawyer.

  "Just a few questions," said Arni. "You have any coffee?"

  I fixed him a look, letting him know he was not welcome. "No."

  He pursed his lips and took out a notepad. "All right, you wanna be all business about it—"

  "Maybe if you weren't too obvious about looking at my tits, I might be more friendly," I said.

  Arni coughed slightly, his cheeks glowing red. Beside him, the detective chuckled.

  The attorney gritted his teeth and looked down at his notepad. "Where, uh, where were you last Holloween?" he asked.

  I felt a rise of anxiety. "I was home," I said. "Um...I wasn't feeling too well."

  I heard the detective mutter under his breath. "Bullshit."

  "Did you know a man named Sean Jackson?" continued Arni.

  I set my jaw, grinding my teeth. "No.”