When I arrived in Hudson, I realized Jane wasn't kidding when she'd called it a small town. There wasn't even a Walmart. There were a few mom and pop stores, a general store, a few chain restaurants and a local ice cream parlor. I'm a big city guy. I'm going to fucking hate it here.
It's only my second night here but I need to escape. The apartment I'm renting is warm, and its air conditioning sucks. I'll have to just check in to the penthouse suite at the Ritz; I'm not going to slum it when I don't need to.
The college is paying for my accommodations, and I don't want to be rude and leave a bad first impression by turning down their offer, so I'll just pretend I'm still staying here, while secretly checking into the hotel.
But first, I have an itch that needs scratched. And I have an idea that these New York City girls are just the ones to do it.
I take the train into New York City. In Boston I'd been to a club called The Exchange, where a gentleman could buy anything he'd like from the young ladies who worked there. I liked to buy everything.
But Boston is a small town for those who live there and word had gotten out. I'd been warned to stop frequenting it, lest the students or their parents hear about it and get the wrong idea about me. Which would actually be the right idea about me, but what the fuck ever. I'd done what I could to help improve my reputation but it still was never enough.
I suppose the one good thing about being an hour and a half train ride away from the great metropolis of New York City was that I could be anonymous and maintain my privacy. I doubt many people from Hudson College went into the city often and if they did, I doubt they'd have a reason to visit The Exchange.
When I arrive, I notice that this club is even bigger and more opulent than the one in Boston. It features luxurious décor and staff that lines up to serve me as soon as I enter.
"Mr. Masters," an older, attractive woman says, as she takes my arm and pulls me towards the back of the stage, where women are getting dressed and putting on make up. "My name is Melissa. It's nice to meet you. And it's so nice to have you here in our New York City club. We have been anxiously awaiting your arrival."
And my money, I think. She's probably the "madam" of this club— an older woman who knows the ropes and shows the younger women around, while ensuring that the clientele is happy. She's probably heard what a big spender I am.
"Please let us know if there's a certain woman who catches your eye," she says. "We want to make sure that she's prepared to sell everything you might want to buy."
These clubs escape prostitution laws by letting the girls sell different things: anything from a coffee date to practically a week of being chained up as someone's sex slave is for sale. Of course, they don't put it into those exact words when they're up on the auction block. They use different colored bracelets to signify the different levels of "companionship" each girl is selling.
As I look at the girls in different stage of undress— some are completely naked— one does, in fact, catch my eye. She's talking to another woman, and she doesn't look like she belongs here. She's wearing a long black skirt and a flowery hippy type blouse.
Her green eyes look innocent, and I want to see them peering up at me as I shove my cock in her mouth. Her long, luxurious hair is piled high on top her head. It's curly and red and I want to slowly unravel it between my fingers and then mess it up while I fuck her until she's sweaty and exhausted.
"That one," I tell her, pointing at the girl. "I'd like her."
Melissa looks a big surprised, blinking and then pointing as well.
"That one there?"
"Yes," I tell her.
"I'll be… very blunt with you, Mr. Masters," she says, shaking her head. "She is brand new, and we're having difficulty ascertaining whether she'd be suitable material for our club."
"She's suitable," I tell her. "She suits me. I want her."
She clears her throat. Why are women always clearing their throats around me?
"Okay," she says. "I'll make it happen. Why don't you go to the bar to get a drink and make yourself comfortable?"
"That's alright," I tell her. "I'll take a seat. And I'll be waiting to buy that girl right there."
I take one last look at her long legs and high hips before heading to the front of the auditorium. She's just my type: curvy and full-figured, with some athletic tone to her as well. And she looks like such an innocent little thing, like she was dropped as a cherubic angel from Heaven.
I can't wait to corrupt her. To possess her. To satisfy her until she's screaming my name and wishing she was mine for good.
But I only ever see anyone once. So I'll have to disappoint her, by giving her the fucking of her life and then leaving her to deal with life without me and my huge cock.