A/N: Update ladies and gents. As always, apologies for the length of time between them, but I hope this one was worth the wait. This chapter is for my FFF baby and my greatest muse, the Princess Shanny! Hope you girls enjoy!!
Warning: This chapter contains strong sexual references and a fairly racy sex scene. Its not too bad though, I promise
Please R & R!!
A client once asked me do I consider myself to be gay.
That's a tough question. At the time, I found it mildly insulting that I'm giving this dude a world class blow job and he wants to know my sexual preference. I must be losing my touch.
But it's actually an interesting thought. I mean, I'm pretty loose when it comes to defining sexuality. Well, I'm loose when it comes to a lot of things but that's beside the point. I think the idea of being gay has become yet another pigeon hole for people to push you into. I'll be honest with you. I'll sleep with almost anyone. Male, female or in between. Orientations don't mean too much to me, it's the person that interests me. My own clientele tend to drift more towards men, but that's just how it works out. It doesn't mean I don't get the same thrill from being with a woman.
I guess if I had to define sexuality, it all boils down to one thing. Relationships. Who is it at the end of everything, that you want to take home and have as part of your life? If it's a woman, you're straight. If it's a guy, you're gay. Simplistic maybe, but that's my theory. Guys who book me can be the dirtiest sexual perverts for those two hours during which we're a tangle of limbs. But when it's over, they go home to their wives and girlfriends and slot right back into the perfect, 'American family picture' life. The fact that they love to fuck a guy three ways from Sunday doesn't matter. The key point to remember is that they don't want to have a relationship with a guy.
Not everyone will agree with me, but that's how I think on it. And it's what I tell the clients who are nervous about being with a dude. Just because you want to abuse my sexy little body, doesn't mean you're queer. It just means that you appreciate the inherent beauty in the male form. And my form happens to be pretty fine, if I do say so myself.
Hang on, I didn't answer the question did I? Do I consider myself gay?
Honestly, no I don't. But then I don't consider myself straight either. Confused? Let me see if I can explain. I have to be something, right? I'm obviously not asexual, considering the amount of people I sleep with. But like I said, to me sexuality is defined by relationships. Well I wouldn't have a relationship for love nor money. They are destructive, life sucking things that ruin a person's life. I'm sure I already said I'm not built to have a relationship. I swear I'm physically, emotionally and mentally unable to be with just one person. I'm just not. October and relationships do not work. Trust me when I tell you that. It never ends well.
I don't know what made me think of all that. I guess it must be because I'm puzzling out this Jeff Hardy character that I was telling you about. For a guy who is in the papers every day for screwing any female with a pulse, its strange to me how much he loves men. He's never booked me before, but I checked out his profile earlier today and he's been with a lot guys on the books. I like to do that, check the profiles of my clients. It gives me a clue into who they are, and where they're coming. Checking out Jeff's, I can see he's blazed a trail through the male employees of Blush.
No, seriously. A hell of a lot of them. In fact, I may be the only guy he hasn't been with yet. He's done a few of the girls too, but not many. I suppose you wouldn't pay for the gender you literally have on tap. But the fact he doesn't seem like relationship material makes me wonder if Mr. Hardy and I have more in common than I first thought. Maybe, like me, he just enjoys connecting with people on nothing more than a physical level.
God, I am so full of shit.
So anyway, you were asking me how the night went right? Well, I'll say this much for Mr. Hardy. His punctuality leaves a hell of a lot to be desired. He was twenty minutes late. That might not mean a whole lot, but it does when I was left alone fending off the advances of the bug-eyed, pot-bellied guy at the other end of the bar. Seriously. I wouldn't even if the dude paid me. And that's saying something.
Other than the fact that I'm a stickler for good manners, I should never be left alone to my own devices near alcohol. Simply put, I don't mix well with the hooch. I'm a total lightweight and everyone at Blush knows it. In fact, it was my best friend April Blush who once told me after one glass of white wine, I'm anybodies. After two glasses, I'm everybody's!
Sad. But true.
Thankfully, my low tolerance wouldn't be problem that evening. I spotted Jeff before he did me. He isn't exactly a guy you'd expect to blend in, not least because of the vibrant shade of purple his hair had been coloured. It hung down on either side of his face, the tips just grazing below his perfect cheek bones. I took just a moment to study his face, and I was certain this guy was worth the wait. His eyes were a vast ocean of green, inquisitive and yet soulful. You'd have to see them to believe it. It was like there was so much going on behind them, it would take an entire lifetime to figure it all out. But you wouldn't mind because the end would be worth it.
It's his lips that got me. They're full and look velvety soft - the definition of kissable. But that's not what made my skin tingle. It's the ring that gleams proudly at the centre of his bottom lip. The way it pierces the skin of his chin which looks so tanned from days being in the southern sunshine. Sweet Jesus. I had to start looking away from that piercing or I would have been propping the bar up myself. Look Ma! No hands!
Both of his eyes fell on me at once. Seemingly sizing up his options, Jeff moved effortlessly towards me. If other people in the bar recognised him, they certainly didn't show it. No-one other than me seemed interested in his arrival at all. How, I don't know. Just his appearance is mesmerising.
As he made the final approach, his steps got slower and slower. I watched him study my face, taking in every detail as though he was trying to commit it to memory. His own expression gave nothing away, the dark eyebrows were only slightly furrowed in concentration. Finally, he slid into the barstool next to me. He didn't look in my direction straight away, rather he ordered himself a drink. A whiskey. Interesting choice. I had him pegged as a beer from the bottle type, but I was pleasantly surprised.
After a sip of the amber liquid, he spoke. I honestly could have blown my load at that very moment. His voice was like pure sex. A deep, almost gravely timber, with just a slight drawl at that the end suggesting southern roots. Absolute perfection.
So much for not propping up the bar.
"October?"
"Jeff?"
He turned slightly in his seat, fixing those green eyes on me. I smiled warmly, doing my best to appear as open and welcoming as possible. You'd be surprised at how nervous clients get before the first meeting. Even people who have used our services before quite often get flustered. I could see the question in his eyes, the one all clients have - how do I greet my hooker? Does he shake my hand, or is that too informal considering what we're meeting for? Would a hug be too familiar perhaps considering we've never met? Is a kiss on the cheek too much too soon? Would that make him presumptuous? I could almost hear the question buzzing around in his head, and I wanted to giggle.
I had to suppress the smile as the inner conflict seemed to resolve itself before my eyes. My Hardy boy settled for a slight nod of his head in my direction.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," he explained, "I got caught up with a guy from the record label. You know how these corporate types can get."
I smiled graciously, secretly wanting him to say any word with a vowel again. "Don't worry about it Jeff. You're here now." I smiled again, and he visibly relaxed ever so slightly.
A tip for you prospective hookers out there. It is never the clients fault. If they're late, you don't care. If they can't get it up/wet? Totally your fault. If they tear your clothes? You never liked that top anyway. You're catching my drift here, right? Yes, you might have an issue with any of the above, but that's why we charge extras. We make the clients as comfortable as possible, and I pride myself on the level of customer service I provide.
That's the meet and greet kind of customer service you perverts, not the sex. Although I do pride myself on giving an excellent service with that too.
"So," Jeff began, downing his shot of whiskey in one gulp, "you want to get out of here?"
Straight down to business. I love this dude already. Some guys like to have a conversation before we screw. Like if they kid themselves that they're getting to know the guy behind the hooker, somehow it makes the entire thing less morally reprehensible? Whatever. I ain't paid to be a therapist.
Jeff isn't one of these guys thank god. He was anxious to get me upstairs and have his wicked way with me. And who am I to disagree? I downed what was left of my white wine in the hope that I could still walk in a convincing straight line afterward. It wouldn't do for a client to see me that inebriated, even if that was only my first glass.
Note to self: Get a fucking tolerance to alcohol.
He was obviously pleased as he stood up from the stool, allowing me to step past him. C'mon October, one foot in front of the other. As I walked, I brushed past him. I felt his body tense at the contact and I smiled. He was right behind me as I walked through the bar, heading to the lobby. Normally, someone being this close is a total invasion of personal space, but I didn't mind. When you've got someone as hot as Jeff Hardy breathing down your neck, you'll welcome his feet crashing into the back of your ankles.
His desire was tangible from behind me. His eyes burned into my back and I honestly wondered if we'd make it to the elevator before he jumped me on the marble floor. Hell, I'm not apposed to that. I doubt anyone else would be either considering how criminally sexy the guy is.
We just about made it to the elevator and got to the right floor. It was Jeff's turn to lead the way, and I could tell it took everything he had not to take me in the elevator. I did that once, with a client. In an elevator. He rode me senseless between floors two and twenty four. Thank god no-one else needed the carriage at that moment. I can only imagine what the press would have said had they seen that congressman balls deep in a rent boy…
Jeff slid the key card into the door, and led me into the room. Jeff obviously does well for himself, considering he had the presidential suite. Ugly red sheets on the bed seemed to bleed against the bright white walls. It was giving me a headache, but I smiled and commented on the room. Or maybe it was the alcohol making my head woozy. Who cares, right? When are we going to get to the sex you ask?
I started asking myself that too as he moved to the mini bar. Jeff poured himself another whiskey, and I tried to keep the bemused expression off my face. He offered the glass to me, but I just shook my head. Not interested in alcohol dude, I just want in your pants.
Jeff took a seat on the bed, shrugging himself out of the jacket he had been wearing. Beneath it was just a simple black vest, exposing all of his arms and part of his shoulders. He obviously worked out, but wasn't all 'roid head which is definitely sexy in my book. I have a thing for shoulders, necks and back you see. Jeff's were perfect. Wide shoulders and a strong back, with toned but big arms.
Realising I was staring perhaps a little too much, I slowly took a seat next to Jeff. Unbuttoning my jacket, I smiled into his nervous face. He blushed softly, and took a big gulp of whiskey.
This is another problem us escorts have. The first touch. It sounds silly, considering we're about five seconds away from Jeff abusing my prostate, but it happens every time. It's actually quite difficult, touching the client for the first time. Some people just pounce on them and start pawing away. I like to be a little more refined that that. Jeff isn't going to touch me first, so I have to figure out a way to grope him without it being obvious that we're here to screw.
In my experience, the first touch dictates the rest of the night. If the illusion of randomness of our meeting they've created in their head is destroyed, nine times out of ten, they get cold feet and back out of the whole evening. It doesn't matter all that much to me, considering I get paid either way. But I figure I'm here to provide a service and it's only fair that the client gets what they paid for.
Besides, I really want this guy.
I pretended not to notice the tremble of Jeff's hand as he sipped the alcohol. My eyes tumbled over his body, looking for my way to make contact.
Bingo
"Wow, that's an amazing tattoo Jeff."My voice was low, with just the right amount of sultry flair. The tips of my fingers gently touched his arm. They traced their way up over his arm, as though they could feel the texture of the design beneath. Gently, I eased my entire hand over his arm until I was cupping his bicep.
My hand wandered further, until I could feel his neck. The thumb stroked down the pulse I found there whilst my finger played with his purple locks. Jeff froze for a moment, the glass inches from his lips. His eyes however, were firmly locked on me. I could tell by the look I'd achieved my goal. The touch was enough to break the ice and arouse Jeff to the point where he overcame any final inhibitions.
Maybe it was the alcohol, but I was totally caught off guard as Jeff leaped towards me. The glass tumbled to a complete shatter on the floor, me along with it! Jeff's larger frame pressed against me with such force he knocked us completely off the bed.
Jeff was unfazed, landing on top of me with grunt. My wrists were pinned on either side of my head by his hands as he began to devour my neck. His knees nudged my legs apart, his hips grinding between my thighs. Well I do declare, Jeff is pleased to see me.
He let go of my wrist, and grabbed a handful of my hair. Pulling it sharply back, my neck was forced to arch, exposing my throat to Jeff's tongue and lips. His teeth grazed my skin, his tongue lapping at me like I was the fountain of youth whilst his other hand wandered down my body to grab my package. Obviously he was pleased with what he found, as his groaned into my mouth as his kissed me.
His mouth was insistent, his tongue forcing its way past my lips play with my own. He explored my mouth with burning demand, tasting every last part of me. He pulled back abruptly, and span me around to lay down on front.
I have to admit, I was impressed as he ripped my shirt off me from behind, tossing it behind him to start work on my pants. They were off me without so much as a bat of an eyelid from me, my shoes being pulled from my feet with just as much fervour.
Jeff moaned as he registered the pink lace underwear I had on. His mouth burned into my back, raining kiss over my shoulders and down my spine as his hand kneaded my hips. I don't even know if he bothered to undress as he moved the panties aside to expose my ass.
As I felt his hardness pressing against me, I knew this was going to hurt. Considering how frantic Jeff was to spear me, not to mention how unprepared I was for his manhood, I made a mental note to cancel all clients for tomorrow. I was definitely going to need time to recover from this. Oh, April was going to love this one when I told her all about it tomorrow.
I'll give Jeff his due, after he was finished impaling me with his rather large member, he massaged my aching opening with his warm tongue. He worked me over gently with care, and I actually felt better for it. He even offered to get me off bless him, but I smiled and said it wasn't necessary. Quite honestly, I don't think my prostate could have taken any more stimulation that night. As it was, walking was going to be a serious issue the following day.
Still, it's as I always say. It's not a good night unless it ends in anal bruising, right?
Stay beautiful baby.
