by Belle Aurora
Curious,
Quinn
Whoa. Too deep. Especially for…
I checked the time on my cell.
…Especially for 8:29 a.m. And so I lied.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: On the run.
Sorry, I’m on the way to work.
Talk later?
Maya x
His response made my stomach flip around.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE: On the run.
Talking to you over the past few days has been a treat. You don’t need an invitation, Maya.
If you get bored with your day, text me at 732-757-2922.
Always got time,
Quinn
It was a bad idea. I knew I shouldn’t, but I was too far-gone in all that was Matt Quinn. Switching from email to text, I wrote:
Me: Now you have my number too. Maya x
Not a second passed before I got a response.
Quinn: Good. Now get to work, woman.
Obviously, I didn’t get to work. Instead, I called DFT, and when reception answered, I made my request.
“Hi, I’m wondering if you can tell me what Quinn’s schedule is looking like for next week sometime?”
The receptionist sounded very motherly when she responded, “I’m sorry, dear, but he’s booked out up until next month. He’s quite popular. Perhaps there’s another one of our boys who will suit you? Sorry, dear, what did you say your name was?”
Well, damn. I’d known he would be popular, just not that popular. Crestfallen, I mumbled, “Mia—” I forced a coughing fit before smacking my head and giving my false name. “Uh…Maya. My name is Maya.”
The receptionist took on a cheery tone. “Well, as a matter of fact, Maya, he’s just had a cancellation this very moment. How does Sunday night at six pm sound?”
Oh, God, what luck! I jumped on the opportunity. “Yes! Absolutely, book me in please.”
The receptionist chuckled. “I thought you’d say that.” Another moment and she added, “Great. You’re booked in. If you’ll provide an email address, I’ll send through all the details, along with a questionnaire of your preferences. I’ll also require a credit card with a limit of two thousand dollars or more that is not within three months of expiry. And, for safety reasons, I will need you to scan and email through a valid form of identification.”
Identification?
I blanched. No. I suddenly couldn’t do this. If Quinn saw my ID, he’d know who I was and would never take me on as a client. Swallowing hard, I stuttered, “I-i-identification?”
I heard the smile in the receptionist’s voice when she responded, “Yes, ma’am.” I was just about to cancel, when she said, “Honey, we don’t expect you to book under your real name. A lot of women don’t for a number of reasons. But before you withdraw, I’ll let you know that no one will see your identification. No one but me. The boys don’t have access to my email, and once I receive the picture, I print it and add it to the others, put it under lock and key, and then the email is deleted. At DFT, we pride ourselves on our discretion. We’ve never had a breach of security. Not once.”
I hesitated. “I don’t know—”
But I was cut off by, “You wouldn’t believe our client list. Not even if I told you. Government officials, celebrities, pop stars…and you’ll never find out who.”
Well, that did it. “Okay. Right. Okay. Here’s my email.”
I prattled off my email and credit card details, sent off a scanned picture of my identification, and waited. I didn’t wait long before I received an email from Candace at DFT confirming my reservation with Quinn.
I stared at that email a long while, my stomach turning and my heart racing, then I ran to my bedroom window, opened it, and let the cool morning air calm my anxious stomach.
This was really happening.
Matt Quinn was going to have sex with me. I was both scared stupid and excited beyond belief.
Chapter Eight
Quinn
It had been two days since I had last spoken to Maya. She just sort of…disappeared. Went off the radar.
I understood it. Between work, a social life, and everything else in-between, life can be overwhelmingly busy.
Take me, for example.
For the next three nights, I was booked morning and night. I normally worked six days, taking one job a day, but turning down a regular client was worse than rearranging a scheduled day. I found that cancelling on a client or being unable to provide a service within a two-day window from the day requested was bad for business. If I cancelled enough or my schedule was too full, clients went elsewhere.
Sure, it was hectic, but I had downtime. Sundays were my day, my recoup. So you could guess I was a little surprised to find that Candy had booked Maya in for next Sunday. Normally, I’d be pissed. Sundays were my one day to be normal. I should’ve been angry. And somehow, I wasn’t. I didn’t mind sharing my Sunday with Maya. In fact, I was looking forward to it. No nerves, no anxiety. It was a nice feeling.
I spent the afternoon walking the beach and prepping for one of my regulars. I subconsciously kept my eye on my cell, hoping she would text me, but she didn’t. Shit. After one day of conversation, I already missed talking to her.
I needed to get my head in the game.
“Oh, God, Quinn,” moaned Annie as I held her calves, her ankles resting on my shoulders while I thrust into her tight, wet heat.
Annie was nearing forty and liked to make it as if we were both married and having an affair. She was married, and asked that I dress in formal attire for our meetings. She loved a sense of urgency. As soon as I stepped into the hotel room she acquired, I pushed her against the wall, kissing her pretty pink lips savagely. Annie was short and petite with striking features and perfectly coifed blonde hair.
For a woman with surprisingly perfect appearance, she wanted to be mussed.
Annie huffed and puffed while gripping my half-open shirt. We always only partially undressed. It was the way Annie looked at it; I desired her so much that I couldn’t even wait to get her clothes off before I fucked her senseless.
She’d flung my suit jacket off me when I’d had her against the wall, and started to unbutton my crisp white shirt. I managed to loosen my tie before I’d fallen to my knees, lifting the hem of her dress to her hips, squeezing her ass and removing her silky red panties with my teeth.
Annie was so small that I picked her up with no effort at all and threw her on the bed. I discreetly placed the foil packet to my mouth and used my teeth to rip it open, and then I placed the condom on my cock before entering a trembling Annie in one single thrust.
I had a good time with her, but it wasn’t fun. It was just work.
As I plowed into her, I couldn’t help but think about Maya. I wanted it to be fun with her. I’d never had a client who treated me as a friend. This would be different. I simply couldn’t wait to meet her.
Thinking of Maya had my balls drawing tight. It was stupid, really. I didn’t even know what she looked like!
Annie worked herself with her fingers, panting. Pushing her hand away, I replaced it with my own. Her hard nub was dying for attention. I’d have to shower it with kisses to make up for what I was about to do. “Oh, fuck, Annie. You got me so hot. I’m gonna come.”
Her pussy tightened around me like a vise. I used my thumb to rub gentle circles over her clit. Once Annie started moaning over and over, I knew what she needed.
More.
I rubbed harder and faster, murmuring, “Yeah, baby, almost there,” and “Fuck, you feel so good.”
A minute later, Annie’s back arched off the bed as she let out a throaty shout. “Oh, oh, oh!”
The moment I felt her pulsating orgasm, I was gone. My heart raced. I closed my eyes as my spine tingled, and almost immediately, I groaned through my release, gripping Annie’s calves harder than I
should have.
I never wasted time after the deed was done. Looking down at a smiling Annie, I winked at her, pulled out, and walked to the bathroom to clean up.
Walking out of the bathroom, I saw Annie was waiting for me on the bed, still dressed. “Well, that was amazingly chaotic.”
I smiled down at her. “Glad you liked it, Annie.”
She reached forward and wrapped her hand around my tie. “My husband will be home soon.”
As she pulled me down to her, I said the words I’d uttered countless times before. “Then let’s make this count.”
I pulled my car into my driveway and yawned. I showered at the hotel before I’d left, so luckily, all I needed to do was get out of the penguin suit before I fell into my pillow.
As I walked into my apartment, I felt vibrations in my pocket.
Maya: Question time! a) Boxers or briefs? b) Salty or sweet?
Tired as I was, I couldn’t help the smile that crossed my face.
I undressed, groaned, and lay on my bed.
Me: Boxers. Gotta let my boys breathe. And, I can’t decide. I love potato chips as much as I love chocolate. I’m gonna call it a tie. My turn. 1) Flowers or candy? 2) A phone call from your mother or being stuck in traffic?
I hit send then waited.
Maya: Ha! @ letting the boys breathe. Ew. Um, neither. No flowers or candy. I prefer something original. Flowers are so 1800s and/or funeral. Candy is just sad. And although I love my mom…I’ll take the traffic :/ Okay, now me. a) Dogs or cats? b) Malaysia or France?
I chuckled at her response then typed quickly.
Me: I don’t have any pets, but I’d be a cat guy. I love dogs, but they’re too needy, and I have commitment issues ;) Also, I’ve been to both, and Malaysia kicks ass. Ooh, this is getting interesting. 1) Breakfast or dinner? 2) Superman or Spiderman?
I suddenly wasn’t tired anymore.
Maya: Breakfast, for sure. I could eat a dozen pancakes at a time, as long as they’re drowned in butter and syrup. And neither, I was more a Wolverine gal. Mmmm, pancakes. Great. Now I’m hungry.
I knew she hadn’t meant it as a hint, but I took the inch she gave.
Me: I know a place downtown. I could pick you up? We could eat and question each other face-to-face…
I predicted what she’d say before she said it.
Maya: Goodnight, Quinn x
I sighed and shook my head. It seemed I was a pushy bastard.
Me: Night, Maya. Sweet dreams x
It was ten days till Sunday. I fought to roll my eyes at myself. I was counting down the days. Talk about sad.
I needed to get out more.
Chapter nine
Mia
“I know you’ve only been here a few days, sweetie, but would it kill you to visit more often?” asked my mom in that guilt-tripping way only a mother can conjure.
“I don’t have a car yet, Ma. I promise to visit you four…no, two times a week when I get a car,” I uttered while touching her shoulder in a placating gesture.
We moved around each other in the kitchen in a most comfortable way. While she made sandwiches, I opened the pantry and fished out a bag of potato chips. The moment I did, I thought of Quinn. So there I stood, staring at some chips, smiling like an idiot. Shaking my head to clear it, I took the juice out of the fridge and placed it on the counter.
Mom kissed my cheek as she passed me. “Well, I’m glad you’re home, Mia. I missed you.”
Then I really did feel guilt.
My mother was a sweet woman, a kind, God-fearing woman, who went to church once during the week and on Sundays too. But sometimes, she was just too much. I preferred to remain drama-free and, not surprisingly, my time away at college and away from Mom was perfectly lacking in excitement.
Her drama usually came in the form of being too mothering, too needy, and trying to set me up with every man she deemed good enough. To this day, I had yet to attend a single date my mother had organized, and she still persisted. However, there was that one time I came home from college to find an extra addition at the table. Poor Marty. I spent the evening apologizing to him with my eyes. Needless to say, I never saw him again.
We sat at the table, and while Mom served the sandwiches, I opened the bag of potato chips. Mom poured our drinks and we started to eat. She watched me carefully with her hawk-eye vision. “Have you lost more weight?”
Chewing slowly, I nodded.
She sighed. “I don’t think that’s healthy, Mia.”
I fought to roll my eyes. This was one of those overbearing times. “I started to lose weight because my doctor told me I had started to develop sleep apnea, Mom. That’s a very dangerous condition caused by being overweight. He told me what I needed to lose, and I haven’t even reached my goal weight yet.” She eyed me still, so I reassured her, “I’m the healthiest I’ve been. And I feel good.”
She almost pouted. “I thought you looked very sweet when you were husky.”
Then I did roll my eyes. “I wasn’t husky, Ma. I was fat.”
The front door opened. “Ma?”
Harry was here. I silently thanked God for helping me share the mother-load, pun intended.
Mom stood and beamed. “We’re in the kitchen, honey. Come sit. I’ll make you some lunch.”
Harry walked through the door wearing his basketball gear. He spotted me and waltzed over, snatching the other half of my sandwich off my plate and eating half of it in one bite.
I guarded the half in my hands by eating quickly and garbling, “Hey!”
Harry garbled back. Stuffing the last piece in his mouth, he somehow muttered, “C’mon, Mia. I’m so hungry.” I understood what he said, even though it came out, ‘G’mon, M’a. I’mf ser ‘ungry.’
Taking a big bite of my sandwich, Harry went to snatch the remainder away, but I slapped his hand. He turned to Mom. “Ma, Mia hit me.”
Without looking up from her sandwich-making, Mom muttered distractedly, “Mia, be nice to your brother.”
He held out his hand for my sandwich. I took the bag of chips from the table and threw them at him. He was a monster when he was hungry. Taking a handful of chips, he shoved them into his mouth, moaning and crunching away.
My phone vibrated on the table. I checked it discreetly.
Quinn: What’s the deal with ‘bless you?’ I mean, a person sneezes and you say ‘bless you.’ Do we even have that kind of authority?
I snorted a laugh, choking on my sandwich. Coughing until my eyes watered, I sipped at my juice, ignoring the piece of bread lodged in my nasal cavity, and responded.
Me: That’s a good point. Next time I hear someone say ‘bless you,’ I’m going to ask for their divine credentials.
Before I placed my phone down, I got a response.
Quinn: I know, right? See? I knew you’d get it. x
At that very moment, my mother sneezed. My brother uttered, “Bless you.” And without missing a beat, I turned to him and stated, “I’m going to need to see your qualifications.” Then I laughed.
Mom placed another sandwich in front of me and two in front of my brother, and sat to resume eating. “How was work, honey?”
Harry shrugged. “Work is work, Ma. I’m underpaid and overworked. It’s as good as it can be.”
Harry worked as a bartender at one of the local city haunts, Wild Fire. It wasn’t quite a bar, but it also wasn’t a club; it was something in-between, where you could go for a beer, or a glass of wine, or a cocktail, and you could even order a meal. They did it all. Harry worked well into the early hours of the morning most nights and slept almost all day. The lucky bastard.
It also probably helped that Harry loved women. Every time he sent me photos while I was in college, there was a newer, younger, prettier version of the last girl perched on his lap. It was obvious these women were nothing but a bit of fun. I knew this, because if they had been more, Harry would want us to meet her, to approve of her. I knew my brother well, and he did not want to settle d
own. Not yet anyway.
Harry’s phone chimed and, still eating, he took it out of his pocket and checked it. He responded quickly then announced, “Quinn’s coming over.”
Already finished with her sandwich, Mom stood, kissing Harry’s head as she passed. “Of course. I’ll make him something to eat. You boys are helpless at feeding yourselves.”
My face had paled. Quinn was coming here? I tried to play it cool, but my heart was thumping in my chest. “He’s coming here? When?” And why?
Harry leaned back in his chair, patting his full stomach. “Yeah, sometimes he meets me here and we go play a round of ball. He said he was ten minutes away.”
Shit. Oh, God. Shit.
I stood up so fast that my chair almost tipped backwards. “Darn, is that the time? I forgot I have a-a-a…thing. I have to go.” Walking forward, I kissed my mother on the cheek and slapped my brother across the back of the head. Harry scowled at me while Mom called out, “Wait! How will you get home?”
Opening the front door, I yelled out, “Bus!” and then I was gone.
Crap.
That was close.
It took me two buses and a fair walk to get home, and when I finally did, I was exhausted. I opened my apartment and then checked my phone. There was a message waiting.
Harry: What is up with you? You were so weird today. Even more than usual.
Closing the door behind me, I replied with a smirk.
Me: I have my period.
My phone chimed and I laughed as I read the response.
Harry: This conversation never happened.
I guessed that was the text message version of blocking one’s ears and yelling, ‘La-la-la-la-la-la-la!’
That’ll teach him.
My afternoon passed quickly. I spoke to my one college friend, Wanda, a journalism major who was currently working for a local news station in Chicago. Our basic conversation went like this: