"No," she said. "This is a means to an end." Then to soften her words, she added, "I just hope all my clients will be gentlemen like you."
"You speak of the future," he said alertly. "As if your tenure in this profession was one of two things: that you have been with no gentlemen before, or," he said, holding up his finger to make his point, "that I am the first to be afforded your services." He looked at her thoughtfully, trying to read her face.
"You are very perceptive, Mr. Beaumont," she said with a smile. "I can see that I am going to have to stay on my toes around you."
He smiled in return, draping a huge arm across her shoulders and leading her to the walnut bar near the fireplace. "Suppose we have a drink," he suggested. "And then you can answer my question. Do you have a preference or will you drink what I'm having?"
"I'll have what you're having," she told him, sitting on a stool and watching as he poured large dollops of whiskey into ice-filled glasses.
"Now," he said, placing a drink before her and leaning his elbows on the bar to look directly into her eyes. "Which is it? Am I just one of a long line, or am I your first trick?"
Her eyes widened in surprise at his quick mind and updated choice of words. "Actually, Mr. Beau-"
"Call me Elliot."
"O.K, Elliot," she said, blushing for no good reason, and again for no good reason, she confessed, "Yes, you are my first trick."
A large grin spread itself comfortable on his features and he nodded enthusiastically. "I think I am going to like you," he prattled with obvious pleasure, and wetting his lips with his drink he invited, "Come. We are off to the bedroom. I'm really excited about this. I've never been with a virgin prostitute before." He laughed to take the sting from his words and came around the bar to her. "Don't worry about a thing," he assured her. "I don't bite, and I promise to be as gentle as possible."
She let herself be led, not quite knowing how to thank him for his courtly manner. She smiled up at him, dimpling her cheeks sweetly. "Thank you for making it so easy for me," she said in a small voice.
"I haven't let you off the hook yet, young lady," he kidded her, dropping his hand to her waist and pulling her close. "You are going to earn your money before this night is over, I can promise you that."
"With you," she answered brazenly, "it will be a labor of love."
"Yes," he bellowed, letting out a great howl of laughter. "I most certainly am going to enjoy you."
She caught a last glimpse of the shimmering lights below, suddenly remembering what he had said: the dreamers are out there, the wishers. Well, I'm not a wisher, she told herself, pressing against him and wrapping her arm around his waist. I'm a doer!
He suppressed a smile of anticipation as he held the door for her, allowing her to enter the bedroom before him. "Do you like it?" he asked innocently.
She stared around her in awed wonder. It was the biggest, wildest bedroom she had ever seen. The carefully made bed seemed acres across. The vibrant red covers had been drawn back for immediate occupancy, revealing, to her amazement, the scarlet silk sheets that reflected nonstop from die mirrors lining the walls and ceiling.
"Do you like it?" he repeated, moving close behind her and closing the door. "I call it the red room."
"I… I have never seen anything like it," she chirped excitedly, turning in all directions.
He watched patiently as she played before the countless reflections, moving, twisting, seeing herself from all angles, even going to the huge bed and looking up at the mirrored ceiling, imagining the view, the completely visible bodies squirming in erotic frenzy. And her role of prostitute was forgotten.
All that remained important was to see herself naked with a man, any man, widely open to him as he pounded away between her legs.
"I can't… I can't believe this," she stammered, turning back to him with a wide grin of merriment.
"Before this night is over," he promised, opening the velvet sash of his robe, "you'll know every dimple, every curve of your young body. You'll watch yourself performing in many, many different positions, doing many, many things, my dear."
"I can't wait," she gushed, anxiously kicking off her shoes.
"Stop!" he ordered in a tight voice. "We do this my way and my way alone." He stared hard at her, his eyes intent and angry. But then his face softened and a small smile of apology replaced the cold stare. "I must apologize, my dear. But you see, I have been doing this for years and I know what I want and how I want it done. You understand, I'm sure." He let his eyes linger on hers, making his meaning perfectly clear.
She was shocked by his sudden vehemence. "All right," she said softly, remembering this was not her lover. He is a client, she reminded herself, and my only role is to service clients, service them with anything and everything they want.
"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I only thought-"
"Don't think," he interrupted coldly, his face again demanding. "You're here to serve me. Remember that!" He pointed at her shoes. "Put those back on."
She quickly slipped into her high heels and stood doe-like, waiting for his next command, her intimidation stoking the coals of her mind, wanting to please him more than ever now.
"Come over here," he said hoarsely, throwing off his robe and standing with his huge hands on his naked hips.
She moved quickly to him. "Yes Sir," she said, completely cowed, her pussy quivering excitedly.
"Get on your knees," he ordered.
She obeyed instantly, dropping quickly to the carpeted floor, her mouth watering at the closeness of his heavy tool.
"Put your hands behind your back!"
She did, willingly, obeying completely and totally, keeping her intense brown eyes on the swaying cock only inches from her mouth.
"So you're a prostitute, huh?" he questioned, still angry that his routine had been interrupted. "Well, we'll see about that. Make it hard, prostitute!"
The name thrilled her. Her courtesan role was delicious, she thought, looking steadily at the hanging meat, thinking of Bobby and his demand that she be the absolute best, do anything Elliot Beaumont wanted, and of her promise that she would have him begging for more. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, wanting to caress the dormant rod, build it with her knowing mouth into a raging stoker for her quivering furnace. Her clitoris throbbed violently as she brought her hands around from behind to lift the already growing shaft to her hot mouth.
"No hands!" he stopped her.
She quickly drew back, hurriedly placing her hands behind her back again, obeying his order instantly, but with her body only. Her mind was seeing his rigid organ piercing the trembling lips of her cunt and pushing far into her soft belly.
"Suck it!" came the waited-for order.
Eagerly, she brought her face forward, surrounding his wide dick head with her soft lips, nibbling and wiggling at it until it plopped silently into her warm mouth. She groaned happily, pressing forward, gently nudging her chin against his loose balls, loving the taste of hot dick filling her mouth, enjoying the heady musk of his man-scent.
"Use your tongue!" he commanded, feeling his shaft completely engulfed in her hot mouth as she increased the whipping action of her tongue.
She felt it lengthening, throbbing as it grew, the burly tip an aphrodisiac to her lust as it stretched her jaws wide to accept the thick tool behind it. She willed it to hardness with her swirling tongue, feeling his heavy arrow of love pressing tightly into her throat. Her hungry cunt ached painfully as the minutes wore on, wanting his mighty tool to fathom the depths of her passion, to pound into her very being with long delicious strokes, wanting him to skewer her with his white-hot lance as it filled her churning stomach with rocket after exploding rocket of scalding cum.