A Private Dance Ch. 02

David stood dumbfounded with his clothes bundled in front of his naked midsection. "$10,000?" he answered. "For one night? That's... That's a lot of money, Miranda. But then that would make me a..."

"A wealthier man than you were twenty-fours hours ago." Miranda interrupted once more. "or I can write you a check for $2000 for the hour you've been here." She stood from the leather sofa, her legs sticking slightly from the sweat and excitement from David's performance. She crossed the room to David and draped her arms around his neck and built shoulders. "But, I would like it if you'd stay..." Miranda accentuated her position by pressing her mouth to David's and parting his lips with her moist tongue. David dropped the bundle of his clothes to the floor and wrapped his arms around Miranda's waist and back. He returned her kiss and swirled his tongue around hers as the new lovers continued their steamy kiss.

David broke the kiss and the two inhaled deeply, catching their breath. "So, is your room on the second or third floor?" David asked with a wicked grin.

Miranda stepped back from David's embrace and pulled the silk nightie over her head. She stood naked in front of David, her perky nipples, suddenly erect from the sudden exposure and arousal, pointed slightly upward, and her light brown pubes glistened with her womanly lubrication. "Not my room," she begged, "not this time. But we'll go to the second floor. There are more bedrooms there." She took David's hand and led him through the parlor to the spiral marble staircase. David watched Miranda's beautiful curves ascend the steps and delighted at the bounce in her ass as her clear plastic heels clicked on the stone stairs.

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Anthony sat at the desk in the security room staring intently at the camera monitors. One in particular: the camera monitor labeled Parlor 2. This monitor gave him the best view of the action in the room where Miranda and that stripper were playing around. Anthony watched as David shucked off his clothes then waved and bounced his pecker in his employer's face, just centimeters from her mouth! Then the son of a bitch actually stuck his cock in her mouth! Anthony stood from his chair ready to pounce on the naked stranger in the home he had sworn to protect, to save the woman he had sworn to protect. Mr. Mason, before he passed on, made Anthony swear to protect Mrs. Mason with his very life and that was his sole purpose in this existence. The stranger was big, but not as big as Anthony, and he could break him in two if angered sufficiently.

Anthony was about to take care of the naked interloper in the parlor when he saw Miranda move on the monitor. Did she just lick his cock?! He thought, frozen in his tracks in front of the TV screen. Anthony watched as the Andrews guy gathered up his clothing then stood mouth agape as Miranda first kissed the stripper passionately then took her nightgown off and stood as naked as the stranger was in the middle of the parlor floor. Anthony had seen Miranda nude before, on accident, of course, when Mr. Mason was still alive, and knew she had a firm little body. Anthony didn't lust after Miranda. He loved her but wasn't in love with her. She was his charge and he would defend her, to the death if necessary.

Anthony sat back down in his chair at the desk when he saw Miranda take the stranger's hand and lead him to the staircase. Anthony didn't need to watch any more of Parlor 2's monitor, or any other of the twenty-seven monitors to know what was going to happen next. She was going to fuck him, that damn stranger, in the bed that his friend Allen Mason and she shared before Mr. Mason died. There were no cameras in any of the bedrooms, but Anthony didn't need to see the actual deed. He sat fuming in the leather high-backed chair and became more enraged by the second at Miranda's betrayal to his employer, his friend, her dead husband. Anthony would teach this David Andrews a lesson, but it would wait until another time. For now, he sat at the desk, staring at the empty room on Parlor 2's monitor.

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