Vicki's Viewpoint Chapter 2
The clatter of the older Mercedes-Benz diesel brought me to peak through the curtain of my bedroom window. I smiled and watched as Mr. Schmidt went through his ritual. He placed his glasses on the dashboard; placed his wallet in the glove box and locked it; placed his cell phone under the front seat; and then examined himself in the rearview mirror. The routine was always the same. Moments later there was a sharp rap at the door.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Schmidt," I said as I opened the door while standing behind it. "Come in, come in. It is so good to see you."
"Ah, my sweet little angel, I like how you play hide and seek." he chided with a laugh. "You know you are to call me Arnold." The game had begun. He peaked around the door and reached out towards me. "Oh I see you have on my favorite robe. Thank you. Thank you. You are too kind to this old man. You always make my dreams come true."
I grasped his hands, pulled him inside, and kissed him on either cheek. Before me, there stood a short bald man in his late seventies. He was dressed in a tweed three-piece suit complete with a gold watch fob across his belly and heavy brogue shoes. He handed me a small purple, plastic bag. It contained his regular donation, a small box of hand-made chocolates, and a yellow rose bud. His daughter owned a chocolate shop. The flower was from the garden shop he started over 30 years ago. He still spent some time each day there even though his son currently ran it.
I took the bag and placed it on the table by the door as I lead him into the bedroom. There I helped him off with his shoes and suit. I neatly folded his clothes over the chair by the window and placed his brogues at the side on the floor. As usual, just before he lay down on the bed, he gave me instructions on how to lay his tie over the arm of the chair. Once everything was in place, I turned to face him.
The site before me was comical. I bit my lip to ensure that I did not laugh aloud. There in the centre of my Queen bed was the wizened frame of Arnold. He was naked except for his bright red plaid boxer shorts and his black calf length socks, which were held up by garters. His arms stretched up to invite me and then he patted the bed with his left hand to show me where he wanted me to kneel. As I knelt beside him, he reached out and pulled at the drawstring of my silk robe. I allowed it to slip down my shoulders and expose my breasts to his view, but I did not remove my arms from the sleeves. His lips parted slightly and he smiled as he gazed at my breasts.
My hand deftly slipped through the fly of his underwear and found his penis. I curled my fingers around his flaccid member and began to massage and rub it. Arnold emitted a soft cough and a groan. I could fell his body relax and his cock begin to respond. I slowly increased my rhythm and pressure. I saw the muscles in his face begin to relax. His eyes closed and a smile spread across his face.
When I saw that his breath was coming in quick pants and that his leg muscles were beginning to stiffen, I quickly removed my hand. Slipping my fingers under the elastic of the waistband, I swiftly pulled down his boxer shorts to expose his now stiff and rampant dick. I re-adjusted my kneeling position and bent slightly forward so that Arnold had a better view of my tits. The final stage of the rub and tug had begun in earnest. Arnold arched his neck and his eyes widened. They flicked between my hand movements and the bounce of my breasts. His body tensed and Arnold emitted a series of soft coughs and grunts as ropes of thick cum splashed onto his belly.
The rattle and chug of Arnold's diesel disappeared down the driveway. The entire visit, including the hot towel clean up and helping him dress, had taken less than half an hour. I retrieved the neatly folded bills from the plastic bag and placed them in the ice cream tub in the freezer. I could hear one of the decadent chocolate truffles calling out to me from the box. While preparing coffee and a snack of cheese, smoked salmon, and crackers, I indulged in a chocolate fix.
On my veranda, I laid back in my chaise lounge enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon sun my coffee and my snack. Through the screen of the patio door, I could hear my cell phone ring. I ignored it, choosing to pamper myself in the luxury of controlling my own time.
I had fallen asleep on the recliner on the veranda and was now in the bath removing the early evening chill and relaxing. Leaning back on my inflatable pillow, I watch the bubbles swim around my nipples that poked through the water like little brown islands. My submerged hands were delicately playing with my pubic hair and clit. I was enjoying the sensations when my cell phone rang. Out of habit, I had taken it with me into the bathroom and placed it open in the towel basket beside the tub. The number on the screen was not one that I recognized. New clients were always welcome. I dried my hands and picked up the phone. I could never relax for long.
The apartment, located in one of those quadrangle complexes made up of a series of buildings, was hard to find. The numbers were poorly lit and difficult to read. I telephoned and received detailed instructions that took me right to the door. Before knocking on number 116, I quickly checked my outfit.
I had chosen a simple black, V-neck cocktail dress, red leather pumps, matching purse, and a red cocktail jacket. I looked very classy and elegant. When he opened the door, it was apparent from the expression on his face that my client agreed with my evaluation. Unfortunately, he was not equally chic.
"Welcome, welcome Vicki. I'm so pleased to meet you. I'm Terry." Terry looked like the typical ex-college hockey player. A muscular six-foot fame was now going to pot as he entered his mid thirties. Bright steel blue eyes beamed through wire rimmed glasses and a broad smile painted his ruddy face with a combination of happiness and eager anticipation. Unfortunately, he wore a Budweiser T-shirt and blue jeans with tattered cuffs. Somehow, from his voice on the phone I had expected more.
