Chapter 8

Brendon

The phone would not stop fucking ringing. Ring, ring, ring. Every damn minute of every hour.

Or, at least, that was what it felt like. It had probably only really rung a few times in the past hour or so, but I was highly irritable today and the fact that everyone and their dog seemed intent on crawling up my ass looking for the answers to inane questions didn't help things.

I answered the phone, trying not to let my temper leach into the receiver. I hung up a few minutes later, after passing the call back to my secretary to make arrangements for a meeting. Then I looked at the clock. I didn't clock out at the same time as everyone else, since I was the CEO and as such didn't run on anybody's schedule but my own. I usually stayed until the work was done, but today I felt like ducking out a little early. It was three, anyway. Nobody would miss me this late in the day.

I grabbed my things and left the office, making sure to let my secretary know to hold my calls until morning. I would not be available on my cell phone, nor would I be checking email. I was heading home for the day and officially cutting ties with the office until eight am.

Leaving for the day didn't provide much relief. The thoughts I had swirling through my head would antagonize me wherever I was. Office, home, out and about, it didn't matter. Everywhere I went I saw her face and my anxiety levels skyrocketed.

I couldn't stop thinking about Aurora, the beautiful girl whose pleasure-filled screams I now realized were completely genuine. They seemed genuine at the time too, but I thought she was a professional and that was how she operated. Now I knew better, and it made the whole encounter even hotter.

I hailed a cab outside the front doors of the building and gave the driver directions to my Brooklyn apartment building. He merged into the ever-present New York traffic, limping along with the rest of the growing rush hour crowd.

I was humiliated by what happened at the Fox, and far too proud to go back, but I thought about doing so every time I pictured Aurora's puffy red lips and verdant green eyes. She enjoyed the sex, but that didn't mean she enjoyed being mistaken for a hooker. She probably hated me. She probably regretted what happened.

I couldn't. Couldn't forget, couldn't regret. It was the best sex I'd had in years and the only way I could go back for more was in my own head. I'd been going there a lot recently, another reason to go home early. My agitation was in part because every time I thought of her—which was often—I got hard. I couldn't help it, and it was getting out of control. I needed to go home and release some tension the best way I knew how.

Why did the traffic have to be so goddamn slow?

When the cab finally slid up to the curb of my building, I handed the driver some cash and stepped out onto the blistering sidewalk. It was another hot one in the city. I couldn't wait to get into the luxurious air conditioning of my penthouse.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Ralston," said Bernie, my doorman. He held the door open for me and I nodded politely as I passed through.

"Same to you, Bernie."

The elevator took a long time, and my dick was getting restless. Since I knew I was close to being home, the need to stroke myself was snowballing. I kept envisioning Aurora's hair splayed across the pillow like a silk curtain, her plump tits and the way they felt like velvet in my mouth. I gritted my teeth through the discomfort and strode out of the elevator with purpose when it opened to my living room.

Finally. Home.

I sighed and slid out of my suit jacket, hanging it over the back of one of the dining room chairs as I passed. My tie went next. I was in my bedroom by the time I wrestled that off, so I let it drop to the floor. Pants, shoes, boxers—all gone a second later.

I laid out atop the sheets of my bed, my meat hot and heavy in my hand. I was so sensitive that it felt good just to be free from my pants. I was so horny that I couldn't help the excited shiver that ran down my spine.

Fuck. What I wouldn't do to have Aurora there with me now. In retrospect, she'd obviously been less experienced than I gave her credit for. The way her voice had wavered when she told me what she wanted, the way every move seemed to surprise and delight her... I wish I'd known at the time. But I knew now, and that was almost as good, except she wasn’t here.

I pictured her on her hands and knees, that beautiful pussy of hers high in the air. She'd beg me to fuck her, and it would sound so sinful coming from her innocent little lips that I'd have no choice but to do just that.

I stroked my hand down my shaft, imagining thrusting into her hot, tight core. She'd purr like a cat as I filled her, telling me just how good my dick felt. Or maybe she'd just moan, using that rasping, sexy voice of hers to make me quiver with lust. I stroked harder, slamming in and out of Aurora with force. I could almost see her tits swinging with each jerk of my hips, her hair falling over her face as she lowered her head.

The pleasure was intense. Using Aurora as my fantasy was having a profound effect on me, each stroke of my hand feeling better and better. In my head, she began thrusting back against my hips, and the room filled with the sounds of skin smacking against skin.

"Fuuck," I moaned, sweat prickling my brow. I was getting close. She was getting close too, and her backward thrusts became almost feverish.

My balls tightened against my body. My legs shook. And with a final strangled cry, I hit my climax like a brick wall. I lay there, panting, still thinking about Aurora's beautiful face. Still wishing I didn't have to fantasize at all, that I could just have her. If only life were that simple.

I cleaned myself up, then lay back against the pillows with a great sigh.

A couple hours later, just as I was finishing the pasta I made for dinner, Peter called. I hadn't talked to him since "the incident", but I couldn't tell whether I was more pissed off at him or myself. After all, shouldn't I know better than to take Peter's advice?

I answered the phone with a curt, "Hey."

"Hey sailor," Peter drawled, obviously a little drunk. "I'm heading out to a new place tonight and since you've finally given up being the world's most boring man, I thought I'd invite you too. It should be fun."

"If the only requirement for not being the world's most boring man is occasionally attending brothels, then I'm afraid that epithet stays."

"What? Didn't you go to the Fox?"

My jaw tensed and I leaned back in my chair, gazing over the table to the cityscape beyond. "I went, alright."

I proceeded to explain to him the events of that night, making sure to berate him as much as I could during the process. He was surprised to hear that such a royal mix-up had occurred, especially since the Fox was an old favorite of his.

"I know the Madame there," he said. "I can likely get you your money back."

"I don't want my money back," I said. "You're missing the point. It was humiliating."

"But did you have a nice time?"

My eyelid twitched. "Until I found out that the poor girl I slept with had no idea that she'd just become a prostitute, yes."

Peter laughed. It bothered me how he was never fazed by anything. Peter lived fast and hard, never making excuses or apologies.

"The place I'm going to tonight is not a hybrid brothel-hotel. No chance for a mix up."

"Not gonna happen," I replied. "From now on I'm going to stick to doing things the old-fashioned way."

"You're kidding me," Peter intoned. "You've got all the money in the world, and you won't spend a little on the pleasures of the flesh? The girls love it when they get clients like us because we're just as hot as we are horny. It'll be a real party, come on."

"I said no." My tone left no room for argument. Peter drove everyone to their end eventually, but at least he knew when to back off.

"Fine, fine. Suit yourself." He chuckled. "More for me."

"Knock yourself out. I'll talk to you later."

I hung up the phone, irritation surging through my veins like quicksilver. At least I didn't tell Peter that it wasn’t just the idea of the brothel that put me off, but the idea of sex with any woman who wasn't Aurora in general. One taste and I was now an addict, with no way to get my fix.

It would pass. These kinds of things always did. Or, at least, that's what I assumed to be true, having never experienced something like this before.

Only time would tell.