[A shorter story today, and it's more focused on developing characters and plot lines. There is a spicy bit towards the end, so if you're just looking to pop off, scroll away or find somewhere else to release the beast. Thanks for reading. Feedback and suggestions are welcomed btw. Wanting to improve my writing skills, especially focusing on dialogue and grounding the whole thing in reality. Hope you enjoy!]
Have you ever had the wind knocked out of you? Whether getting nailed in the solar plexus, your child kicking you in the balls, or losing all your hard work when the computer crashes? It's the crushing forced acceptance of a defeat you know is not permanent yet from which it feels like you'll never recover. I hope you have not experienced it.
On the other hand, I do hope you've had the pleasure of having your breath taken away. Standing on the mountain top, hearing the opening orchestral swell of Les Mis, or holding your child for the first time? It's the overwhelming yet gentle dawning of Heaven meeting Earth after a long life lived in purgatory.
When I woke up today, I was excited. I was embarking on a new adventure. I had been a financial advisor, massage therapist, and business owner. But today I was going to be something else.
An escort.
One of my clients, Veronica Wells had hired me to come to her office and give her a signature massage, something I had developed for my therapy clinic creatively named "Therapy with Tre." I know, I'm a genius. Look, no one can be artistic and an expert of the female orgasm. That would be unfair.
So I brought my normal supplies as well as some Velcro straps. I had given Veronica a choice. Either she could have a normal signature massage where she would cum as many times as her body could handle or I could dominate her. She promptly indicated the latter. So I stripped her, bound her, and fucked her. I was so thorough in my efforts that I had to change clothes and wash my massage table with soap and water in order to get all the liquid evidence of her pleasure cleaned up.
Afterwards she took me on a little journey through her office where she introduced me to her two best friends (who happened to also be her employees) who also wanted to experience my talents. The first was a woman in her late 30s named Khadijah. She was from Iran and her husband has passed away a few years ago. Apparently she wasn't so devout a Muslim because she wanted me to fulfill her dead husband's duties and give her the physical pleasure and intimacy that my signature massages were geared towards.
As we walked to her other friend's office, Veronica made it clear that while I was supposed to make her friends feel as wonderful as was possible, I wasn't supposed to do for them what I had done for her. She had staked a claim on my dick and I was honestly thrilled. The woman had used her 20ish years of adulthood well and had learned how to please a man. I was planning on showing her how grateful I was next week when I returned to her office.
But then I saw Veronica's friend.
In one instant I was both heartbroken and captivated. The most beautiful woman I had ever seen was standing at the window overlooking the tall buildings that composed downtown. If I was a painter, this image before me would have been my magnum opus. As it was, I stood gawking like a ten year old boy walking into the Louvre for the first time.
Soft curly hair floated down over her shoulders with a top knot bunched up with a hair clip. Neither skinny nor fat, she was a woman. Her backside was honestly the best I've ever seen, and my highschool best friend was a volleyball player. She was wearing gray slacks and a sleeveless white button up blouse. A jacket hung off the back of her chair that matched her pants. As she turned to look at us, a defined jaw, angled nose, and striking green eyes drew me in further. Her lips were kissable but not Kardashian in nature. Her smile had hints of mirth and orneriness but broadcast kindness. The redness in her hair and eyebrows promised a fire to change the world. And when she welcomed us in and said hello? The warmth and confidence in her voice melted my heart.
All of this I could tell from a single glance. What I would later confirm were those character qualities I guessed at from first look. She was kind. Considerate. Friendly and warm to strangers, sassy and hilarious with her friends. She was everything I could barely have dreamed of in a woman.
So why did I tell you I was heartbroken after such a description? Because the name plate on her desk said: Catherine Wells.
Wells. She was related to Veronica. She couldn't be Veronica's daughter, at least not biological. She looked to be about my age or a little older. I hoped she wasn't Veronica's step daughter or anything like that. It's one thing to have open and transparent conversations about sex with your kids, but hooking them up with your personal escort seemed icky on a whole different level.
I managed to catch my breath and have the sound of the world rush back to my ears just in time to hear Veronica.
"Tre? Did you hear me?"
"Uh, sorry. Um. What did you say?"
The goddess in front of me smirked. She knew which cat had gotten my tongue.
"I said, I'll let you introduce yourself. Silly boy."
"Oh, sorry. Hi, how are you? I'm Trent. I mean, Tre. Everyone calls me that. Um. How are you?"
"You said that already," she chuckled. "I'm quite fine, Trent. It's nice to meet you." She glided towards me and shook my hand. Her grip was gentle but it was still a good handshake. My god, was this woman perfect?
"It's," I had to cough to find my voice, "great to meet you too." Her smile lit up the room.
"So this is the man of a thousand orgasms, huh?"
