The Man Who Would Pay

The Man Who Would Pay

Lawrence was a beautiful young man. Well-spoken, olive-skinned, and dark eyes. He was a man who should grace the cover of magazines, not work as a technician in a factory. We all thought the same. There wasn't a girl in the office, or probably the whole factory who didn't get wet knickers when he was round.

I was a few years younger than I knew him to be. I wasn't exactly sure how old he was. Twenty-eight or nine. I was twenty-two. Almost. Another month and I would be. That didn't seem like such a huge gap to me. And I knew I was fanciable. What I struggled with was why Lawrence seemed not to notice.

I wasn't a classic beauty. I did have nice legs but my tits were too small and I'd have liked my arse to be a little smaller. The boyfriends of my past had seemed to like it though. They'd all taken great delight in banging me from behind so that they could admire it. I'd thought of getting a tattoo across the small of my back to make the view more interesting. But I hadn't summoned up the courage as of yet. Plus I didn't like the idea that it might be labelled a tramp stamp.

And of course, I had my crowning glory. A mass of long ginger red hair. It made me stand out from the crowd. There were six other girls in the office. All equally as young and attractive as me in their different ways. It was my hair that made me noticeable. Except to Lawrence.

"So don't you ever go out to a club to get laid?"

I was virtually sprawled across my desk in the sales office trying to look seductive as not for the first time, I tried to get Lawrence to see me as more than the sales girl in the office.

"No."

"So what do you do for sex? It'll be an absolute waste if you're going to tell me you sit at home jerking off."

He smiled but still gave me no explanation.

"Do you ever think about me when you do?"

Now he laughed which deflated my ego a little.

"I don't sit around jerking off. There's other ways to get sex. Ones that don't need the complications of relationships."

I shrugged.

"Like how?"

"Never you mind."

He laughed at me as he turned away, his blue lab coat swished around him making him appear even hotter as he headed through the double glass doors to return to the factory downstairs.

"Wasting your time with him, Danica. We've all tried."

I looked over at Marie. She was grinning at my latest blatant attempt to woe the hottest guy in the company. The others had watched, but it was Marie who sat close enough for a ringside seat of my efforts.

"I don't get it. He openly admits he doesn't have a girlfriend. And he's obviously not gay."

Marie shrugged.

"Don't ask me. I virtually ate his face off at the Christmas party two years ago. He still didn't want to know."

"What? You're engaged."

"I wasn't then. And I might not have been if he'd taken the bait. He didn't though. So I had to make do with poor old Ady."

"Jesus, Marie. If you're not his type, who is?"

Marie was the hot blonde. If I was honest, she was the one who could probably take a guy off me if she wanted. The lads liked blondes best. And she had bigger tits than me.

"Well, no one here. And I'm sorry to say, that includes you, Danica. He's a mystery. Perhaps he's an Adonis sent by the gods to tease us. Or one of Satan's temptations before the... what's it called? That thing the American religious types go on about?"

"The Rapture?"

"Yeah. That's it. Where everyone disappears."

"Only the good ones. So I'll still be here."

I sniggered.

"I think you're right on about his purpose in life. He exists only to give us all damp knickers."

Marie smirked at me.

"Nah. That's just you."

I settled back on my chair. I did have damp knickers, and now they were uncomfortable.

I was more determined than ever after that to get Lawrence's attention. I started wearing shorter skirts and tighter tops. Office etiquette wasn't that strong and it'd always been a bit of a fashion parade, so I could push the boundaries quite a bit without being frowned on.

My bare legs looked great in low heels and attracted attention whenever I walked through the factory. The question was, did Lawrence notice?

"How do I look?

Got this skirt in a sale. Fifty per cent off."

I held myself straight and did a twirl to show off my tight black ribbed knit top and the houndstooth skirt that hardly covered my panties.

Lawrence glanced me over but lacked any hunger for me in those dark eyes.

"Very nice."

I gave him my disdainful look.

"Nice? That it? Not hot? Or stunning? Or let me..."

I giggled and swayed like a naughty schoolgirl. Lawrence kept his eyes on my face.

"Nice. As in pleasant."

"You're teasing me now."

I glanced around the lab. Lots of equipment I didn't understand to test out products. Cold and clinical. I could see why Lawrence liked working here. It reflected his persona. But there had to be a warmth in there somewhere. I'd find it eventually.

"I think you're hot," I said softly, running my fingertips over an aluminium-topped workbench. I imagined leaning over it while he banged me furiously from behind.

"I'm told you're not alone in that. But I don't think about it."

"Never? You don't think about Marie and her tits? Or Melanie? Or... me?"

He folded his arms and gave that infuriating grin of his. Amusement but no desire.

"I test things. I don't test my attractiveness to the people I work with."

"You could test me any time you like."

"I'm sure I could, and it's very flattering. Thank you. But I already told you. I don't date."

"Yeah. About that. How do you get off if you don't date?

I bet you have some hot fit girl hidden away don't you?"

Could he have a secret girlfriend no one knew about? Possible. He didn't say much about his private life.

"No. No supermodel waiting at home."

I was failing. Again.

"But you do get some? Don't you?"

"Whenever I want. You don't need to worry about me."

"How? If you don't date, how do you get a shag?"

"It's a secret."

That damn infuriating smile again. It made me feel like a child.

"You have a sex doll."

I turned for the door in annoyance that I'd made no inroads again. I wiggled my arse as I walked away.

"Trust me. The real thing is much better."

Fuck it. How was he so immune? I'd moved past flirting and was offering to fuck him, and he still wasn't biting.

I had been intrigued by Lawrence's cryptic response to my questions and I couldn't let it go. I was on it again the next time I saw him. And the time after that. I think I was wearing him down when a week or so later I sat on his desk in the lab swinging my legs.

"So when did you last have a girlfriend?"

I shuffled closer, purposely drawing his eyes to my bare flesh where my pleated skirt had ridden up. If I parted my legs even just a little, he'd have a clear view of my cameltoe. I was tempted.

"When did you last stroke smooth thighs... like mine?"

Lawrence remained in his chair, but he looked. He didn't even hide it. It made me tingle with excitement. I wanted to open my legs. To let him see my damp panties. I held that thought in check. Too cheap.

"I don't have girlfriends."

"Are you gay?"

"No. I'm not gay."

"Asexual?"

He was laughing.

"No. I'm not that either."

"So how can you not have girlfriends?"

"I don't need them."

I burst out laughing at that.

"Of course you do. Everyone needs someone. How else do you get your balls emptied?"

"You're very forward aren't you."

"Not usually. But you're frustrating me. Driving me nuts."

"Why's that?"

I reddened.

"Because I want you to take me out and you won't ask. I'm not ugly am I?"

Again that smug amusement.

"No. You're not ugly. The opposite in fact."

"So why won't you ask me out? I'll do it on a first date. I mean, I don't usually, but I would with you."

What the fuck. Nothing else was working. He could skip the drinks and small talk if he wanted. I was desperate.

"You're very nice and that's a great offer. But I just don't date."

I rolled my eyes in disbelief.

"Oh come on, Lawrence. You're not a virgin, are you? I could fix that."

"No. I'm not that either."

I hadn't thought for one moment he might be.

"So what then?

Is it some trauma you don't want to talk about? You can tell me. I won't tell anyone."

He held his hands up.

"Okay. I surrender. I'll tell you. It's no secret anyway.

I pay for it."

For a moment I was stunned into silence, wondering if I'd heard right.

"You do what?"

"I pay. Once, maybe twice a month I book a prostitute and get myself... relieved. No complications. No messing around with dates or having to consider other people's problems. I just pick a pretty girl online and book her. She comes round. I hand the money over and bam. Thank you, ma'am. Everyone happy."

I studied his face looking for the punchline. Then I burst into a snigger.

"You're joking, right?"

"No. You asked. I told you."

I was flabbergasted.

"Why on earth would you pay for sex when you could have any girl you want? I mean. Look at you. You're fucking gorgeous. There isn't a girl in this office that wouldn't fall head over heels for you."

"I know. But you all come with baggage. Emotions. You're all needy in some way. That's not an insult. It's just a reality of life. You're looking for boyfriends. Future husbands. Fathers of children. I just want to meet a basic need and get on with my life."

"Jesus. That's a bit heavy. I just thought we could go for a drink."

"See. Get to know me. Spark up a connection. Next thing you're asking me to come round every Friday night. Then dinner with the parents. That's how it progresses. Even if you don't think that far ahead. It's in your nature."

I half laughed, trying to get my head around what he was saying.

"Isn't that what everyone does? It's er... normal."

"Exactly. Normal. I fully admit it's probably me who isn't normal. I don't need an emotional crutch."

"So what do you need?"

His eyes fixed on me. Deep brown wells of intelligence. But he was right when I looked. There was none of the watery-eyed softness. No emotion. Just that intelligence. Almost cold. But I still felt the buzz of desire.

"Honestly?

I just want my dick expertly sucked."

I stared at him. All I saw was absolute seriousness.

"Ha.

Well, I suppose that's honest."

I couldn't think what to say after that and the silence became awkward.

"Fuck, Lawrence. I have no come back for that." I said eventually.

"You're not supposed to. It's just how I live my life."

I left the lab in slight shock. How was I supposed to compete with that worldview?

When I saw Lawrence again, I couldn't resist taking up the conversation once more.

"So, how much does it cost to get your dick sucked?"

Lawrence looked up from the test he was running. Something involving a water tank and making lots of notes on a clipboard. He didn't even baulk. Instead, he just took up the conversation as if we'd never stopped the day before.

"Depends. Probably around a hundred for a young girl. A MILF might be a bit cheaper. Seventy or eighty."

"Which do you prefer? Young or old?"

I was intrigued.

He sat back.

"Again. It depends on what mood I'm in. I like a bit of variety."

"What age range?"

He shrugged. Twenty to forty. The oldest I've had was approaching fifty. Nice though. I don't pay for uglies."

I didn't imagine he did. And there were plenty of fit women around in their forties and fifties.

"And that's all you do? Get your dick sucked? Or do you fuck them as well?"

"Not usually."

"So you just... have them blow you off and show them to the door?"

"Yep."

"But you could get that for free."

"I could. But it wouldn't be honest. It'd involve lying, pretending I wanted something I didn't."

"A relationship you mean?"

"Yeah. And then I'd have to deal with tears and recriminations."

"And what if a girl was willing to... knowing that was all it was."

Christ, I was damp. It was a struggle not to fidget and give myself away.

"That wouldn't seem fair. I'm happier paying. No guilt if it's a transaction. Paying for a service so to speak."

The tingle in me leapt exponentially and I felt my stomach turn summersaults. My next words came from nowhere, shocking even me.

"Pay me a hundred and I'll do it."

Lawrence just regarded me like I was mad.

"And you'd leave after and never mention it again?"

"Yes."

I was trembling.

Lawrence laughed.

"You're not a prostitute. You couldn't do it."

I felt angered.

"Yes, I could."

"And why would you?"

I went quiet again. I couldn't answer that. Why would I? I didn't know. He might have my head swooning, but Lawrence wasn't the only guy around. And he'd made clear there was nothing there for me.

"I just would."

I turned and walked away suddenly not wanting to carry on with this talk.

I thought nothing of it when I saw the message flash up from Lawrence. I expected something work-related and clicked on it as I did any other.

"Booking for Friday evening. Seven PM. Price as agreed. Address to be supplied on confirmation of acceptance."

I felt the eyes of the office on me at my loud gasp of shock. I didn't look up, not wanting to explain. Jesus fuck. Lawrence was actually offering to pay me to suck his dick.

My thighs trembled at the thought of making myself into a whore. Fuck. I'd offered. But could I do it? My head raced with wild thoughts. Without a doubt, I would shag him on a date. But it was true that I'd be expecting more. I was looking for a relationship. Even if it was only casual. But that wasn't what was on offer. Jesus fuck. What had I started?

I closed the message quickly and got on with my work before anyone came up behind me and saw it.

Marie was looking over at me.

"What's wrong?"

I knew I was colouring up.

"Nothing. Just someone pissing about."

I hurried to the restroom to avoid her prying any further. I sat on the toilet for a good five minutes, flustered and waiting for my heat to die down. I even considered rubbing one out to ease my agony. Eventually, it passed and I went back to work.

It was a good hour or more before I looked at the message from Lawrence again. Time I hadn't been able to think straight. I'd almost screwed up an order on screen from one of our customers because I couldn't concentrate.

I read it again to convince myself it was real. No of course he didn't mean to pay me. It was a joke. A way of asking me around to his. Yeah, he probably expected sex. So did I. So no problem there. I replied.

"Order confirmed."

I was shaking as I pressed send. Jesus fuck. I stared at the screen in shock. A moment later another message popped up. His address.

I glanced across at Marie where she was deep in conversation with a customer. One up to me.

The rest of the week was one of turmoil for me. I saw Lawrence several times when he came up to the office. Not once did he acknowledge our date. He was just his usual technician self, dealing with queries and logging test results.

I got used to it, responding professionally. But all the while, I was quaking inside. Fully aware of what would happen on Friday evening.

At home, I was a horny mess thinking about it. I went to bed early both nights to avoid my brother seeing me fidgeting in the chair. It was bad enough he knew I masturbated, he couldn't not with our thin walls, without having him watch me while I was on heat. He was eighteen and as far as I knew, still a virgin.

And masturbate I did. My head was full of Lawrence deciding I was the girl for him. I ran scenarios in my head like little movies. I imagined us having sex and his falling for me. And to have any chance of sleeping, I humped my pillow until it was sopping with my juices and I came with muffled whimpers that advertised my excitement far too much to a brother laying one cardboard thin wall away.

Before I knew it, it was Friday. I raced home and hogged the bathroom before getting dressed. I chose my clothes carefully. Matching lace underwear I kept especially for occasions when I expected to be getting down and dirty. A tasteful skirt. Not so short, but easy to remove. And a tight buttoned top that made the most of my tits.

I was doing my makeup when Daniel appeared.

"Got a date?"

He smirked at me.

"So what if I have?

And get out of my room."

He didn't move from the doorway and I carried on, applying a subtle lip gloss.

"Who is he?"

"Just someone from work."

"You look nice. Must be someone special."

"You'll know if and when I bring him home to meet Mum and Dad."

Christ. Isn't that what Lawrence said happens? My head was two steps in front and already in danger of expecting more than he had promised. Fuck. He hadn't promised anything. Apart from a hundred pounds in payment for a blow job. But that was a joke. Perhaps not the prostitutes, but I didn't think he'd treat me as one. We were workmates.

Lawrence was wearing a dressing gown when he answered the door. It was a shock, and for a moment I thought that perhaps I hadn't been expected to appear.

"Come in."

"Didn't feel the need to dress for the occasion?"

"Seems a little pointless when it's coming off."

I smelt him as soon as I stepped inside. Freshly showered, scented with a masculine body spray. It was wonderful. Indeed, the whole house carried a clean smell. Clinical but not unpleasant.

"Wow. And you said I was forward."

I followed him through to his living area. His home wasn't a surprise given his attitude to sex and life in general. I hadn't given it thought, but it was obvious when I saw it. Minimalist. A computer geeks home. Everything controlled by...

"Alexa. Lights to fifty per cent."

The lighting dropped, softening the room.

"Nice," I observed as I glanced around.

He had a laptop open on the table. Had he been working?

"Hundred pounds. Cash.

As we agreed."

My attention jumped back to him as he held up the money. I hadn't actually expected that. Lawrence hardly acknowledged me as the friend and colleague I thought of us as. To him, I was a stranger tonight. I was suddenly seeing that. I was going to be a business transaction just like he'd said. Oh fuck. That unbalanced me a little and I didn't know how to respond. I stayed quiet, just taking the money on autopilot.

It felt weird. Somehow I hadn't expected him to be serious. I'd convinced myself it was all a bit of a joke. That he'd offer me a drink and we'd talk. The money started to focus my mind on how we were seeing things differently.

Cash for a blow job. That was what he'd said. Anything else existed only in the fantasies I'd acted out in my head and on my battered pillow. I trembled as I put the notes in my bag. I was grasping that the evening was going to pan out much more as he saw it than I did. Yet somehow, I still didn't want to back out.

I felt I was crossing a line. I suppose I was. It was the moment this whole thing ceased being a joke, or a fantasy. It was the point where I became that thing no one wanted to be described as. A prostitute. A whore.

No. It would change later. When we got intimate. He was testing me.

"So. How does this thing work?" I laughed nervously.

Lawrence glanced me up and down as if seeing me for the first time. Assessing me.

"I'd like it if you got naked." He said matter-of-factly.

That was another jolt to my nerves. It was expected that I would just strip and do it. If I had been a prostitute, I suppose it wouldn't have fazed me. But I wasn't. Not really. I wasn't a wallflower either. But I was used to something a little more romantic. A slow build. Touching and caressing. Talking sweetly. My experience was one of mutually rising libidos where clothes were lost slowly in mutual discovery.

"Er... okay.