RYAN
I can hear music coming from her room. It’s not playing loudly enough for me to be sure but I swear she’s listen to “Girls Just Want To Have Fun.” I wouldn’t have taken her for a Cindy Lauper fan but I guess that tune gets enough airplay for everyone to know it.
I wish I could see what she’s doing. I imagine her dancing around and singing into her hair brush. In my mind she’s wearing little pink pajama shorts and a skimpy little top, her hair is loose and wavy and she’s singing with anger and passion in her voice.
My office has never seemed duller or stuffier and I’ve never wanted to be in here less than I do right now.
The music goes quiet. My ears are pricked up to hear what she plays next but instead I hear the click of a door being opened and the soft pad of feet on carpet.
“Ryan.” Jessie’s voice is timid as though she’s worried I won’t respond positively to her seeking me out. I’ve told her my office is out of bounds and I don’t want to be seen to be breaking that rule straight away. There are too many things in here that I wouldn’t want her to find.
I make my way into the hallway and find her dressed in light gray soft-looking pajamas with cream lace edging. They skim over her curves and her blonde hair is loose and cascading over her shoulders. She looks like a combination of the girl next door and a Victoria’s Secret model, and for a moment I don’t know what to say to her. Innocent beauty like hers isn’t something you come across every day and certainly not what you expect from someone who does kind of job she does. She should be hard. She should be sexy and obvious, but she isn’t.
If I’d met Jessie in high school, she would have been the kind of girl I would have dated.
“Is there anything you want from me?” she asks. I see her cheeks pink at the question and I know what it probably took for her to come out and ask me this.
I’m not going to tell her no because I brought her here for a reason. I need the things she can give me, the things she signed up for when she took my money. If I say no now, it’ll only make it harder to say yes tomorrow. If I say no now, she’ll wonder what’s going to happen for the next month. Things need to be clear for both of us.
I lead her into my suite, closing the door softly behind us and I take a seat on my Chesterfield chair. She stands glancing around the room and I wonder what she thinks of the way it is in here. I had it redecorated after Corina passed. It’s a man’s room now; dark wood, brown and tan leather, big bed with crisp white sheets. While her attention is elsewhere I take the moment to tell her what I want.
“Take off your clothes, Jessie.” My voice is gravelly and low. As I say the words my cock twitches. There’s something so fucking arousing about telling a woman what to do. I don’t say that in a misogynistic way although it probably sounds it. I’d like it just as much if she ordered me to do the same. It’s about knowing what you want and not being afraid to seek it out. It’s about that frisson in the moment when the order hangs there and the person being ordered decides what they are going to do next.
She could say no. I watch her blink slowly as she takes in what I’ve said. She does this every day for multiple men so it’s nothing shocking or new. I wonder if it feels different to do it for me, away from her working environment where she has house rules and security to keep her safe. The house rules would prevent me from touching her but there are no rules here outside of her own limitations.
She doesn’t look at me as she slides one of the thin straps of her camisole over the smooth rounded curve of her shoulder. Her eyes fix on the hand that is starting to carry out my request as though she sees it as a traitorous thing. The top of her right breast is bared and I lick my lips because everything about her looks so soft and warm. I could bury my face between her breasts and inhale. I imagine that she smells of vanilla or something soft and floral. Her other hand works on the other strap and then the fabric drops around her waist.
Her body is beautiful. Not perfect like the photoshopped images they print in men’s magazines and that’s what makes me want to look at her even more. Her breasts are natural and tear-drop shaped with the tiniest dusting of freckles, and her nipples are pink-tipped and rosy. My mouth waters as they harden in the cool air of the room.
She pushes the camisole down along with the waistband of her pants. Her stomach is gently rounded as I remembered from the club, her hips wide and her thighs strong-looking. She’s not wearing any underwear so I get my first glimpse of the patch of hair between her legs; blonde like her head, and neatly trimmed. I’m completely hard now and I make a show of adjusting myself. Although she’s not looking me in the eye I can tell she sees. Everything drops to the floor and she steps out of the fabric pool. It’s only then that she looks up at me.
There was nothing about what she did that was showy or sexy like she would do in the club. It’s as though, now she’s away from that environment, she’s become her true self and I like that so much better.
And her eyes. They are expectant, maybe tinged with a little fear.
“Turn around,” I say. She does a slow turn, cocking her leg slightly in a way that makes the whole thing so damn sexy. My fingers itch to press into her rounded firmness but that isn’t going to happen tonight.
“Come closer,” I tell her. She walks, shoulders back until she’s standing just in front of me. I lean forward so that my face is an inch from her stomach. Her skin prickles with goose bumps as my breath gusts across it. I breathe in, inhaling the scent of her skin. I expect fragrance but there is nothing but her own intoxicating smell. Her belly quivers, her feet shifting slightly as though she expects me to touch her.
I want to. Oh how I want to.
I could slide my hands up the inside of her thighs and touch that place that I know could bring me so much pleasure. I could kiss her stomach and drop my mouth lower so I could taste her. I could do all of these things because I’ve paid her to be here and she would let me.
But I don’t.
“You can go to your room now,” I say.
Her eyes flash with something that looks like a mixture of relief and hurt. Does she feel rejected? That wasn’t my intention.
I like to get what I want. I’m used to being able to. But I don’t want this to be easy for either of us.
She turns and bends to collect her pajamas. Oh, fuck. I get a flash of pink that makes my cock kick between my legs. She must know what she’s showing me and that turns me on even more. This girl. She’s like the best mix of naughty and nice. Innocent with a side of vixen. Is there any better combination?
“Good night,” she says as she leaves the room. I note that she’d rather risk being seen by the staff than staying to dress in front of me. That little detail interests me a lot.
“Good night, Jessie. I hope you sleep well.”
Then she’s gone, and I’m alone once again, but for the first time in a long time I feel alive.