An Entitled Nobody

Her English was better than conversational, but not perfect; she was well off enough to hire an intermediary to handle her appointments. Her "gift" list was even more extravagant, with many French designers he had never heard of. To play it safe, he decided against a clothing gift, and instead purchased a bottle of Vintage Moet Champagne.

He contacted the intermediary, and made an appointment. He was scheduled for Thursday evening at the Obsidian Hotel.

That was the past. Now for the future. The scotch had won the battle over his mind, and made this analysis very, very simple. He was going to go upstairs to a room number listed in her upcoming text, straighten his hair, knock on the door, and follow the rabbit down the hole.

His second-to-last sip of his second double, he received the anticipated text. 'Give me 5 mins. Room 1235, beautiful view ;).' His heart fluttered; this was going to happen, he affirmed to himself.

He stared at his remaining scotch. Most of the amber nectar was gone, and what remained was ice water with a hint of alcohol in solution. The light yellow hue of the drink suggested to him he had one last sip. He took it into his mouth, letting the cold from the ice and alcohol from the scotch battle to excite his tongue. Over time, the heat dissipating from his tongue reached equilibrium with the cold liquid, priming his slightly numb tongue to activate from the remaining carbs of the scotch. His tongue battled the harsh environment of the drying effect from the alcohol and rehydrating from the dense solvent. When he finally felt a tingle on his tongue from what he was certain was the alcohol, he opened his throat and swallowed the expensive, smooth concoction. Immediately, his mind jumpstarted and overtook the slaughter from the alcohol to remind him of his nerves. He paid his tab, and walked away.

As he was heading towards the elevator, he visited the restroom. After utilizing the urinal, he washed his hands thoroughly, and used a wet towel to freshen his pink, flush face. He could feel the heat resonating in his puffed cheeks. He had showered before arriving at the hotel, but the bar was warm, to provide safe haven from the snowy roads outside. He took a big breath, staring at the eyes peering at him in the mirror. His mind was again clear, as his thoughts disappeared down the sink drain. His hands were steady, and his breath was normal. He reminded himself, 'you can do this.'

He looked himself over to ensure he was presentable. He was dressed elegantly. He had on black, pin-striped dress slacks, a soft grey button-up shirt with poplin collar, a green/grey striped silk tie, and pin-stripe matching 2-button coat. It was the same suit he had used on countless failed interviews.

He stepped out, and waited anxiously at the elevator. When it arrived, he stepped in, and pressed the button for floor 12. No one else entered the elevator. It was faster than he expected, Einstein again failing him. When he reached his floor, he followed the sign towards his appointment. He found it at the end of the hall and knocked twice, confidently.

She opened the door. Her eyes quickly looked him up and down. Her mouth showed a convincing smile. She turned slightly to let him enter, mouthing "come in." She placed a do not disturb sign on the outer handle, closed the door, and turned the deadbolt.

His eyes first scanned the room, half expecting something out of place that would define the situation for what it was. He took in a deep breath, noting that it looked like an ordinary hotel room with a live-in suitcase placed in the far corner. Slowly, his senses started coming in. He heard soft R&B playing, the greatest hits of Seal. He relished in the beautiful view of the nightlights of the city. All the curtains were drawn, and the view was magnificent. The room was full of her fragrance. A keen nose would place the smell with Chanel No. 5. But his was not a keen, cultured nose.

Finally, contact. He felt a light, feminine hand placed on his shoulder. He instinctively turned around, and before he could realize, her arms were around him in a somewhat awkward embrace. She held her position close to him, with her arms wrapped around his tall, solid, square frame. His neurons started to process the situation, and he wrapped his hands around her waist. His nose nuzzled her neck, and he breathed in more of that same aroma. It was sensory overload and he could again feel his neurons freezing up.

They broke their embrace, and she walked over to the table, where she took a seat on the sofa, quickly crossing her legs. His nerves again spurted some processing power, and he remembered the gifts. He pulled out a thick but inconspicuous white, security-grade no. 10 envelope and placed it on the nearest side table, and awkwardly looked at her and provided a pathetic nod. He then opened his sling, and pulled out the Champagne. He said, "I figured this would be a great way to celebrate."

Inquisitively, in a moderate alto, French influenced voice, she asked "Oh. What are we celebrating?" She offered a magazine cover smile.

Being as vague as possible, he replied assuredly, "the first step in a new direction."

She quickly stood up, grabbed the bottle from him and replaced a half-empty bottle of Chardonnay in an ice bucket. There were 2 clean white wine glasses near the bucket. Was this evidence of a previous client? Or did she need a little lubrication for the night's events? He dare not ask; rules were rules.

"So, how has your day been?" She asked him, as she took her seat. She motioned for him to sit next to her on the spacious sofa.

Taking his seat, he replied, "it was alright. Finished up a little early at work, and took care of some last minute things at home."

"I see... And what do you do?"

"I do medical research. I work on heart disease models."

"Wow, that's fascinating. I could never imagine running a scientific lab. Biology was never my strong suit in university." He chose not to correct her generous projections.

"Yea. What about you? What have you been up to?" Speaking to her was making him a little more comfortable. He was finally able to admire her appearance.

He tried to focus his gaze into her green eyes as best he could, but at the same time really soak in her look. She was exactly the woman on the website, only saturated. She was a Pirelli pin-up filled with protein, carbs, and lipids (however few they may be). She was a firecracker condensed in a sugar cube.

She was wearing a white blouse with over-exaggerated ruffles, and a long, black pencil skirt. The skirt was sitting well above her belly button, and stopped short of her knees. She appropriately crossed her legs, exposing her smooth, creamy stems. Her calves were sculpted with precision; she had to be a runner. She was wearing black pumps with a modest 2" heel. Her hair was perfectly tame, as if it had been done professionally. Every curl and wave was in the exact position it was supposed to be. The outward vectors of her hair were proportional to her head and shoulders. She had very light makeup on, as her natural beauty didn't require much, if any. She did have on burgundy lipstick, and her lips moved quickly as she spoke of her days events.

Every last detail of her appearance must have been scrutinized until she achieved perfection. She not only achieved it, she had exceeded it. The perfect 10 scale did not apply to her. And she knew it. She teased with the boundaries, in control of the game.

She had a skill to talk about nothing, and do so using as many words as possible, filling the air with pleasant, French-toned sounds. He found himself nodding and responding with a "yea" very frequently. After a length paragraph, she stopped, and replied, "You're cute."

With that she leaned in and kissed him. It was a short kiss, but started to create a stirring in his boxer briefs. It was a very passive kiss, in which he felt very little force coming from her vector. And yet, she was the one initiating. She got up and went to grab the Champagne, and he stayed on the sofa to reminisce about her lips. They were very soft. But they were full and warm. Her lower lip hung over her chin defying the rules of gravity. Newton himself would have second-guessed his most prized accomplishments.

She brought the bottle back, with the 2 glasses. She handed the bottle to him to open, and stated, "Let's loosen up a bit. It's time to have some fun."

He agreed, and returned the kiss. He guessed correctly that this too was a game. He just had to play along. After all he was spending so much money for a short amount of time; it was time to enjoy it. He popped the bottle and poured 2 glasses.

"A toast?" she asked.

"Ok. Let's just keep it simple. To an eventful night." They clanged glasses, and took a sip. He leaned in and laid another kiss on her lips. This time, he intended to hold it a little longer, and get a taste of her tongue. He quickly parted his lips, and tasted the bubbles still fizzing on her tongue. She playfully returned the intensity of the kiss momentarily, and broke away, flashing a naughty smile. She seemed to like games.

They returned to conversation and Champagne. She started to talk about a recent shopping trip, and went on about some of the celebrities she ran into. She liked to name drop, probably because it made her feel accomplished. She compared herself indirectly to them, and how much prettier they were. He played along and reassured her that she was very sexy.

After a refill on the Champagne, she continued talking about her interest in art. She considered herself an artist, and enjoyed painting. Then, again, out of nowhere, she blurted, "Let's move over to the bed shall we? This sofa just isn't comfortable anymore." Her green eyes sparkled, and she lightly bit her bottom lip.

She led the way, holding his hand, pulling him along. She sat him on the bed. She laid her hands on his knees, spreading them, coming close, and placing her lips on his. Again, it was a short kiss. Her lips did almost no work against his. She parted and leaned back licking at his upper lip. Coupled with the anticipation of what was to come, he could feel himself getting more excited. The dress slacks were becoming uncomfortable.

She took a step back, and stepped out of her heels. She twirled, and playfully jiggled her hips, enhancing the teasing mood. First to come off was her skirt. She started to unzip it from her left side. She stated,"I hope you like my lingerie. I wasn't sure what color you'd prefer, so I kept it simple." She tried her best to build suspense, and he only feigned playing along. The Champagne helped with that.

The skirt came off, exposing a very intricate baby blue lace thong. It reminded him of the gift he had purchased for the previous whore. Of course, her thong alone made the previous set he bought comparable to fruit of the looms. Maybe it was a good move he didn't purchase a set for her.

She stepped closer to him, and mounted his right thigh. She got as close to him as she could. She again kissed him, but this time with more force. Her lips were not as soft as they had been, and her aggression was showing. She sucked on his lower lip, and pulled on it. When she released it, he leaned forward to reciprocate, kissing her intently to retaliate with a show of dominance. He watched as her lips grew even redder, the blood outshining her lipstick shade.

She leaned in again, and whispered in his ear, "Can you feel how wet you've got me? I've always been turned on by the strong, silent type." Was she lying? Her extremities certainly did feel warm and moist on his thigh.

She quickly kissed him again, and dismounted. She turned around, giving him a view of her toned ass. The thong certainly did her curves justice. His eyes were fixed at the curvature of her cheeks. There wasn't an ounce of cellulite. He didn't even realize she was unbuttoning her blouse.

She removed the blouse as she turned around, giving him a new view of her matching bra. It was just as intricate as the bottoms, and did wonders pushing up her breasts, creating soft cleavage. She again mounted his thigh and pushed her cleavage into his chest. She kissed him with a little more fire again, and his hands started to explore her ass. Her soft skin was quivering under his hands. Why would she have to be nervous? Perhaps, it was his intent gaze, examining every inch of her. He tried to calm her, "I think you look beautiful."

She replied, "You're not here to think. Just enjoy." Her words were now whispers, and were followed by that million dollar smile. Her confidence was back. He realized she needed control of the situation. It had to be what got her off. Probably what was getting her so wet. Her having control over a wealthy, powerful man. If only she knew the truth.

She started on his clothes. She wanted to take her time with him. She unbuttoned his shirt, and pulled the fabric over his shoulders, kissing and licking her way up his arms and shoulders to his neck. She pulled the shirt from his pants, and pushed it off his body, using it to playfully handcuff his hands behind him. She was certainly very playful. She continued to kiss down his neck to his chest. Though he was no athlete, his pecs were in shape, and carried only trace amount of fat onto his stomach. He was sure to shave his chest before the meeting, to accentuate the work he put into maintaining a strong core. She kissed her way all over his chest and stomach, using her tongue lightly on his nipples. She would occasionally stop to look back into his eyes, teasing him with a naughty smile. She ran her hands through her hair as she reached his waist.

Teasingly, she placed a finger under the waist of his trousers, and asked, "This is always my favorite part." Now that definitely had to be fake, he thought.

She unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers, slowly lowering them down and off his legs. His underwear wasn't nearly as sexy as hers. Hell, they weren't sexy at all. They were boring. Just grey boxer briefs.

She pulled his boxer briefs off, and immediately took his cock into her moist mouth. He had always maintained a sense of confidence in his cock. Though it was average length, and slightly above-average girth, he knew how to use it. His slight curvature worked in his favor, and hers.

From the reviews, she wasn't much of a cock sucker. She did her duties but there was nothing to write home about. And this was certainly the case, he thought. However, one thing he didn't account for was the view. The view of the city only a few feet from him was an eyesore compared to the beauty between his legs. Sucking his thick cock really accentuated her high cheek bones. Her slight dimples popped out every so often as she tried to create a vacuum between his cock and her plump, red lips. The sparkle in her green eyes outshone the sun. She was hungry, and there was nothing more erotic than an off-the-scale 11 devouring one's manhood.

She continued rubbing her soft lips along his cock. She liked to tease his bell-shaped head, placing her tongue along the bottom ridge, and licking up to the slit. She looked up at him with another naughty smile. Quickly, she went straight down, taking his cock deep into her mouth, touching the back of her throat. She couldn't take all of him, but he appreciated the effort. Besides, he was never one for deep throating. He always preferred fucking over getting head.

She gave his cock one more kiss, licking off another appearance of pre-cum and stood up. She stepped back and started to gyrate her hips to the music. She reached back and popped off her bra. She slung it to the pile of her clothes, and walked towards him. Her breasts were smaller than he expected; the bra really did its job. Her nipples were a median tone between her creamy skin and dark hair, and were standing at full attention. She cupped her boobs, and tried to strike a sexy pose. It was the first time that night she appeared more of a whore than a model.

"I noticed you were really eyeing my ass. So I figured I'd let you do some of the unwrapping." She turned around, and bent over very slightly. She pulled her hair over her shoulder and gave him a wink and a smile, imitating the image from her site that required him to replace his keyboard. He decided to take his time with it. He started by kissing the shallow dimples in her waist. She wasn't ticklish and continued to hold her hair over her shoulder as she looked down on him, intently gazing the slow movement of his lips. He continued on, placing his lips over her ass, and eventually work his way down to her thighs. Her thighs were a little more sensitive, and he noticed her tilt her neck, looking up to the lights overhead.

He worked his way back up to where the waist band of her thong sat. He wrapped the waist band around his finger, and slowly started to pull down the thong, kissing every inch it traveled over. As it dropped to the floor, he slowly slid his hand between her thighs to really feel her wetness. The heat from her thighs was radiating, and she jumped slightly when his fingers grazed her pussy lips. From behind, he firmly added pressure to his fingers, rubbed the length of her pussy lips, penetrating the top layer and using the lubrication of her wetness to guide his direction. By then, his lips had worked their way down to her outer thighs, kissing and sucking on her chiseled thighs.

She pushed his head back and stated, "God my pussy is already on fire. I'm ready for your cock."

She mounted him on the bed, and grabbed his cock. She slipped a pre-lubricated condom onto his hardened prick. She aimed it at her pussy, and sat on it. Her facial expression showed appreciation for his cock. Her eyes intensified in lust, and her mouth parted slightly. Her eyebrows quickly rose. An inaudible "uhh" escaped her throat. He smiled, he had, even if briefly, gained control. He laid back and let her do the work. After all, she believed she was in control.

Her grinding quickly picked up. It quickly escalated from passionate fucking, to animalistic mounting. He admired her tight PC muscles as his cock head could feel the ridges in his pussy. After working up a good rhythm, she turned around, offering him a splendid view of her toned back gyrating. And her athletic ass bouncing up and down on his cock. He couldn't resist grabbing her hips.

She maintained her enhanced rhythm with his guiding hands, dropping down with harder and harder force. The bitch was enjoying it, he thought. She started to learn further back, trying to rub his head against her g-spot. From the reviews, he was informed she got incredibly wet from g-spot stimulation. He certainly felt little resistance sliding in. He focused his hands onto her wide, strong hips, helping to pull her onto his cock, creating more friction between his cock and her pussy wall. His fingers pushed aggressively into her creamy white skin. With it, her moaning quickly shifted from over-exaggerated, porn-like "fuck my pussy" and "god yea", to a slightly more believable mumble of French-accented gibberish.

She also started putting her whole body into it. She was rotating her hips aggressively, trying to rub every inch of her pussy walls on his cock. Her torso was gyrating, working her toned core. He could see the muscles in her abdomen contracting rapidly through a conveniently located mirror behind the bed. Had she placed it there? Her adequate breasts were bouncing slightly, her arms were bent to pull her hair up over her neck, her eyes were closed, and her lips were moving nonstop. The feeling of her slowly contracting pussy was nice, but he was much more enjoying the view. He convinced himself that she had to be enjoying herself.

He reached up and tried to cup her breasts, but was twice slapped away. She preferred cupping them herself. He didn't complain as it left his hands free to grab her toned ass. He even lightly slapped it, to see what would happen. She didn't object, and he did it again.