Rome

Dinner progresses through a lot more taste sensations, firsts, and laughs for Carlene. I think she’s well on her way to becoming a convertee to Japanese cuisine. She’s also taken a liking to Champagne, and has more than helped me do justice to this fine bottle of wine.

One thing I’m certain of, Carlene’s a great sport and happy to try things if the opportunity presents itself. I’m coming to realize with her, it’s very much a case of you don’t know, what you don’t know which has limited her experiences, rather than her not being willing to try new things. The more I get to know her, the more it becomes evident about the sort of life she’s lived. She’s been very cut off from many things that most people, and certainly I, take for granted every day.

We’re walking back to the hotel hand in hand, when she hits me with a question that surprises me, although I am getting accustomed to Carlene’s direct approach.

“How old are you, Rome?”

“Thirty-eight. Why?”

“I was wondering. There’s nothing about you on the Perfect Gentleman website. I guess you’re kind of a mystery. All the other guys had a write-up.”

Shit, she’s been looking for me? I really try to stay in the moment and keep the focus on the experience rather than the fact this is what I do for a living. Some women find being with an escort exciting, for others, it pulls them out of the moment and more often than not, can be a mood killer.

“I haven’t been taking clients for about six months, so they removed me from the site.” Almost correct. I removed myself—semantics.

“How come you haven’t been working?”

This one, I’m pleased I can answer truthfully. “I decided to take a break for a bit.”

“Why?” shoots from her mouth, then she realizes how presumptuous that sounds and visibly cringes. I’m about to break one of my own rules, and my common sense doesn’t seem to be able to do a damned thing to stop my mouth wanting to answer her question.

“I know it might not seem like it, but this job can be very emotionally and physically draining. I needed some time out to think about what I wanted and just recharge the batteries. Not everyone is as easy to get along with as you.”

“Thank you!” she says with a surprised laugh. We walk on for a few more steps. “I can’t say I really understand what you’re saying. However, I can certainly recognize it could be a very difficult job. I’m sure there are a lot of expectations on you.”

I leave that one alone…the last thing I want to do is potentially turn things to a conversation about how I have sex with other women. No, we don’t need to go there. I’m treading on very dangerous ground. If Carlene keeps asking questions, I’ll probably keep answering her directly, which is worrying. For me, Carlene has fast become almost like a truth serum.

“How do you do it?”

I’m not quite sure what she’s asking me. “Do what?”

Then she stiffens beside me. “Have sex with women you’re not attracted to? That must happen, surely?”

Of all the questions, she could have asked me…why this one? The one I hate and few women actually ask because of their own insecurities. Oz is different, she expects an answer, because she’s curious. She’s also clueless to how attractive I find her—a total breath of fresh air for me.

“Even with women I’m not ordinarily attracted to, I can generally find something about them physically or personality wise that is attractive to me. I focus on that.”

I watch her nod, the lamp light casting a yellowy glow around her head.

“Oz, I don’t want to talk about the job or other aspects of it. I know it can be intriguing when you haven’t been exposed to it before, but right now, I just want to focus on you—us, and the here and now. I know you might think it’s a brush off. It’s not. I can honestly say, I’m having a great time with you, and I find you very easy to be around and very attractive. Can you live with that?”

She looks at me a little skeptically. I can tell she’s running her bullshit meter over me, and I’m not sure what conclusion she’s come to.

I said enough. Quickly, I’m becoming torn. There’s a fine line we walk as escorts. In two-week’s time, I will likely never see this woman again. The decision is hers. If she chooses to never see me again, I want to leave her with beautiful, fond memories of our time together, not a broken heart. Broken hearts are another occupational hazard—women becoming emotionally attached to us, this can and does happen, particularly when we’re on extended engagements.

She pauses to look out over the ocean at a boat passing by still mulling over my question. I stop with her and wait for her answer. “I can live with this, Rome. We’ll just know of it as Rome and Carlene’s US adventure and leave it at that.”

I wrap an arm around her shoulders. Carlene, however, surprises me. She slides her arm around my waist and moves in and places her head against my chest. It’s the first time she’s made a move on me.

“I like that idea and the name.” I tighten my arms around her.

We stand there for a few long moments. I figure Carlene hasn’t had a lot of human contact since her husband passed, and a hug is something I can certainly give her. It feels more like she’s seeking affection and intimacy rather than something more sexual right now.

She leans back a fraction to look up at me.

“I think I’d like you to kiss me now, Rome. Isn’t that what happens on dates?”

This is new? Or is it?

“It certainly is, particularly when the woman is as gorgeous as you.”

Either way, I’m very happy to oblige. I’ve kept things light today after our kiss this morning. I wanted to give her the opportunity to get to know me and feel comfortable at her own speed, today.

I lower my lips to hers, and this time, I don’t have to coax her to open for me. She’s eagerly waiting to join me. It’s a long, slow kiss. A kiss of discovery, one where I take the time to learn what makes her breath hitch and her hips press into me harder.

Her hand roams across my back, and her fingernails create hot trails even through my shirt. It’s her time to learn me as well.

I cup my palm around the back of her head and stroke her cheek with my thumb as I leisurely hold the contact. It’s a kiss that could easily build into much more, if I let my body loose with what it really wants to do.

She’s not ready for that intense sort of loving with me yet. I know better than to scare her off. Carlene has made the first move, and I’m returning her trust with a kiss filled with sincerity and passion, albeit while still being well in control. Our lips part, then briefly come together for a couple of teasing pecks.

A long, keening moan slips from her throat.

“Enjoy that?” I rub my hands up and down her arms.

She looks up into my eyes “Very much.” A few seconds later, she rests her head on my chest again, and I wonder what she’s thinking.

“Come on, let’s head back to the hotel.” I take her hand, and we stroll the remainder of the short distance.

Back in the room, she kicks off her shoes as soon as we’re through the door. She walks over to the sofa and sinks into the plush cushions. I move over to the sliding doors which open onto the balcony. The heavy black-out curtains are still pulled to the side, and the light gauzy curtains cover the glass.

I open the doors to let some fresh air in.

“Good idea, I prefer the fresh air to the air-conditioning. I try to leave the doors open at home to catch the ocean breeze.”

I glance at my watch, the night is still early. Too early to head to bed to sleep and late enough to be awkward. A quick scan of the counter making up the kitchenette in the corner, confirms the Champagne and strawberries I’d requested this afternoon have been delivered.

Time for a little concerted seduction. What surprises me even more is my body wired with anticipation. Is this anticipation new or is it just the product of me coming off a long break?

I move across to the closet and take out one of the luxurious hotel bathrobes, then pass it to Carlene.

“Here, Oz, go change out of your clothes into this. I’m going to give you a massage tonight.” I make it a statement rather than a question. I don’t want to open a discussion about it. Carlene doesn’t need an opportunity to refuse something pleasurable out of fear, something I’m happily offering.

Tentatively, she takes the robe from me, all the while looking up at me with her big, expressive eyes. I can see the indecision and feel her nervous energy. I can also see the desire and the curiosity, even if she isn’t acknowledging it or running with it quite yet. It’s there. That’s enough for now.

I offer her my hand to pull her up from the comfy spot on the sofa. She grasps it, with only the slightest of hesitations, which pleases me.

“Go get changed, sweetheart. I promise, you’re going to really enjoy this.”

She gives me a shy smile and moves off to the bathroom. “I trust you, Rome.”

Surprisingly, her words mean the world to me. It really does matter to me what she thinks and feels. I’m really starting to like Carlene as a person and not just as a client. This is new for me; in the past, I’ve always been able to pigeon hole my clients in my head.

I wonder just how dangerous my new epiphany is to me as I take out the small pouch I use to carry my massage supplies in, when I travel. The benefit of driving for these couple of weeks means I’ve been able to bring my portable massage table, which I quickly set up. I’m pleased to see housekeeping has dropped in the stack of towels I requested.

Now, all that’s left to do is dim the lights to just the soft bedside lamps and pour the Champagne. To set the mood a little more, I light a vanilla and musk scented candle I had in my little bag of tricks and Bluetooth my iPhone to the speakers I carry. I have the perfect playlist for this.

Carlene emerges from the bathroom just as I’m filling the second flute with Champagne.

“Was that a Champagne cork I heard popping?” She looks delicious. Her face is devoid of makeup, and her hair’s a little tussled. The look suits her perfectly, although I doubt she realizes it.

“It sure is, baby. Come get a glass.”

I lift a glass in offer but don’t move. I want her to come to me. She crosses the distance with anticipation in her eyes. The mood is building around us. The air has suddenly developed its own energy in the room. There’s now a feeling of anticipation surrounding us.

Our fingers briefly brush as she takes the flute from me, and a zap of electricity sparks between us. She felt it too, based on the little start her body gives. I watch her bring the cool, golden liquid to her lips and sip as I do the same.

“Good?”

She nods, not taking her eyes from me.

“It’s going to get better.” Her breath hitches, and I silently cheer a little. I’m going to love unravelling her.

“Take another sip, beautiful. I’m going to set you up on my table now.” I motion with a nod of my head to where I’ve set up the table between the bed and the balcony doors.

“Where did that come from?” she asks in astonishment.

“Just a little something I brought with me. Why don’t you let me help you up onto the table?” Before she has time to think or argue, I remove the glass from her hand and place it on the counter beside mine for later.

Carlene spins around and looks wary. “What do you want me to do?”

I step in and draw her into my arms for a hug. “I’m going to loosen this robe, then you’re going to lay on your front, okay.” I keep her pressed to me with one arm, while I use my other hand between us to undo the sash she’s knotted to secure it.

My lips touch to her neck just below her ear in a light, teasing kiss. “Slide up onto the bed for me, Carlene. I want to run my hands all over you.”

“Rome!” She sucks in a breath as she says my name, and I feel the intake of her breath, right down to my toes.

“Shh, sweetheart, it’s fine. You’re going to love this. I promise.” I gently turn her and urge her to the bed, like I asked. I let her arrange herself modestly, to feel more comfortable.

As I expect, Carlene does it ensuring there’s not a glimpse of anything inappropriate or interesting. When she settles, the robe is undone, and she still has her arms through the sleeves. That isn’t going to work for me at all, but I don’t want to spook her before we begin.

“Comfortable?”

“Yes.” Comes out on a labored breath.

“You don’t sound certain, Oz. Relax, it’s going to be fine.”

I grab a couple of the big, folded towels from the counter and open one up. Then before she has a chance to protest, I run it up over the backs of her legs, under the robe, to her shoulders. I repeat the process with another towel to cover from her waist down to mid-thigh.

Next, I peel the robe from her arms and throw it on a chair to the side.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

That got the robe out of my way. I understand this experience is unsettling, I just need her to trust me and go with it.

Every muscle in her body has tensed, although she hasn’t uttered a word or a sound and I wonder if she’s frozen in fear. This is obviously so far out of her comfort zone, and I’m going to enjoy smashing through her barriers.

The underwear I felt as I slid the towels into place has to go as well. I want her naked. The nakedness can wait for a moment, though. All in good time, and I have plenty of it.

“Do you have any nut allergies I need to know about?”

“No? Why?”

“The oil I’m going to use has an almond base. It’s great for massage.” I pour a liberal amount into my palm and rub my hands together and then run them up her calves, then back down over her feet and right to the tips of her toes, coating all her silky skin as I go.

I pick up her left foot and start massaging just like I did last night. She has pretty feet. Cute, straight little toes and an elegant arch to her foot, running into thin, shapely ankles. There’s no color adorning her toenails, and I make a mental note to make sure she gets a pedicure this trip, as well. I’ll enjoy seeing those toes a deep red or maybe something fun, like a sassy blue.

As I work my thumbs into the balls of her feet, I can see her start to relax and let me do my thing. My hands on her feet are non-threatening and almost hypnotizing to her once she’s relaxed enough.

I trail the tips of my fingers lightly over the soles of her feet before I start to work on her firm calves.

She shivers, and I decide this is the perfect opportunity to start a little conversation. Over the last couple of days, I’ve been working up a plan on how I’m going to approach her voyage of sexual discovery as much as I’m showing her the sights of my home country.

It’s all going to be about testing and trialing with Carlene. I just have to get her to agree to it on her terms. She wants it, but doesn’t know how to admit it or ask for it.

“Is that shiver because you’re ticklish or to let me know you’re wanting something more?” I throw out there in a low voice, not much more than a whisper.

“Um, ticklish,” she squeaks.

Not buying it, I run my fingertips down her calves then use a firm stroke upwards on her thighs to just under the towel. I concentrated my efforts on the backs of her thighs, slowly edging up each stroke but not approaching inner thigh territory, just yet.

“How does that feel, Oz?”

“Good, really good.”

“Not too hard?”

“No, perfect.”

I run my hands firmly up the outside of her thighs for a few long strokes until she relaxes under my hands. Each time, I go just a little higher, until finally I reach the edge of her panties.

She stiffens a little, and rather than stop or back away, I just keep my movements the same—retracing the same territory, letting her get comfortable with the feel of my hands on her. A few seconds later, she relaxes again for me.

Then I get a little bolder again, by her standards, not mine, and run my hands straight under the sides of her panties at her hips. Again, I give her time to get used to the idea for a few strokes of my hands. On the next stroke, I turn very bold and hook my thumbs into the fabric and smoothly slide them the length of her legs and off before she even realizes what I’m doing.

“Rome!” It’s a feeble protest that sounds more like a moan to me than any real attempt to stop me.

“They were in my way,” I state, as I draw my hands over the area without the protection or the annoyance of the panties. This time, I don’t stroke my hands downward along her outer thighs. Instead, I bring my hands inward over the curve of her backside, until they meet.

I nonchalantly flick the towel up to uncover her ass. Her body tenses and she sucks in an audible breath, but she doesn’t protest. Probably too shocked.

With each continued stroke, I feel her relax a fraction. Once she’s more comfortable, I add a little more pressure and focus on her upper thighs and the rounded globes of her ass. There’s still a little apprehension there, I can feel it in her muscles under my hands, but no protests, which is an excellent sign.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” I coax.

“Yeeeaaaah.”

I run my hands down her thighs again; this time, I focus a little more on the inner thigh area. Just like before, I only go halfway to start with before extending my strokes a little higher each time.

“Spread your legs for me a little, Oz, I want to get every muscle.” I lean over her so my breath tickles her neck as my voice caresses her ears.

She sucks in a sharp breath and does as I ask. I add a little more oil to my palms and slide them right up to her pussy but carefully avoid touching her there, as tempting as it is.

Timing is everything in seduction, and it isn’t the right time just yet.

I keep up my firm strokes to her inner thighs, then I lighten off the pressure a little and turn up the heat to sensual.

I can see her pussy starting to swell and sheen with her building need. She’ll be a lot wetter before I finally touch her. I realize I’m licking my lips with anticipation.

To finish her legs, I trail my finger-tips lightly over them, and her body jolts and wriggles at the sensation.

“That was you shivering because you definitely want something more. Patience, Oz.” I don’t want her answer or protest. I just want her to think on my words as I continue with what I’m doing.

I replace the towel over her ass but settle it very low. Then I whip off the towel covering her back and rub my hands straight up the center of her spine and enjoy the way her muscles ripple a little under my touch.

Right from the start, it’s been obvious Carlene takes care of herself and has an active lifestyle. She isn’t fitness model fit or fashion model thin. Rather, toned with the right amount of curves, exactly where a real woman should have them.

The swell of her breasts are playing peek-a-boo on her sides and teasing me. For now, I’ll let them play their games. Soon, I’ll catch them, and then it will be me playing my games.

Time to take things to the next level.

I lean forward on the next long stroke up her back to her shoulders and whisper in her ear, “What do you like a man to do to you, Carlene?”

“Umm…” she pauses for a few moments unsure what to say in return to my question, “you seem to have a pretty good handle on it. The last couple of days have been great.”

Little minx. “Thank you. That’s the safe answer, though, beautiful. Now give me the truth. I want to know how you like to be touched, kissed, licked, sucked, fucked.”

Her rib cage expands, and her shoulders tense.

“Relax, there’s nothing wrong with telling a lover what you want, how you like to be loved. I’d like you to tell me, I want to make everything special between us.”

Carlene releases the breath she’s been holding, and I work

my hands over her shoulders and up the sides of her neck waiting for her to answer me.

Carlene

“Feeling a little shy, Oz?” he prompts.

I’m still trying to process what he asked me.

Oh, my God! How do I answer such a question?

I’ve never talked about my sex life and what I like with anyone. Not even with Phillip. We’d just done it.

Rome continues to run his magical hands over my back and shoulders. Every touch is driving me mad, slowly mad with want. I probably should have called a halt to this long ago, but it just feels too good. So naughty but so right at the same time. I can feel him enjoying my inability to answer his question.

“Yeess,” I finally manage to hiss out rather than elaborate.

“That surprises me, Oz. An up front, independent woman like yourself should never be uncomfortable asking for what she wants.”

Eeeeek! If he only knew. I’m not those things, am I?

“How about I go first? I’ll tell you what I’m feeling and what I like, would that make things easier?”

“Yeess.” I breathe again with relief at him taking the lead.

“Let me tell you about how I feel having my hands on you like this, your body sleek and slippery with oil I’ve rubbed into you. Do you know what it does to me, Carlene?”

His voice is hypnotic. Barely more than a low whisper, but with the ragged edge of want tempered by the smooth baritone.

“What?” Did I whisper the word or had I just imagined it?

“It makes me hard with need for you, Oz, so hard.”

“It does…?” The thought catches in my throat, and I wonder at the integrity of his words.

“Yes, you don’t believe me, do you?” His hands slip down my arms, and his chest skims my back. He catches my hand at the end of the stroke and moves it backward until our joined hands cover the unmistakable length of his desire safely hidden behind his casual slacks.

“Feel my cock, baby? That’s you, all you. I know you’re feeling it too, even if you’re not ready to admit it to me, yet.” His hand leaves mine, still lightly cupping him through the material of his trousers and returns to rubbing tantalizing circles over my shoulders.

He’s silent for a few moments, and I’m torn between the feel of his hands on my back and the torment of having my fingers lightly brushing against his erection. I want to feel the length of him, learn his size and shape, how he likes to be touched, but uncertainty plagues me.

Rome leans down to where my neck is exposed and breathes in my ear. “Open my pants, Oz. Do it, baby. I know you want to. I want you to.”

Having Rome demand it of me changes something in my head. Before I can take the time to think, I act in direct compliance to his request.

My fingers fumble one-handed with the catch and zip before I succeed. His hand travels down the length of my arm again to my hand, where he runs his fingers over the back of my hand right to my fingertips then over my palm before working his way back to my bicep.

“Now take my cock out and hold me in your fist.”

Something in his voice brokers no retreat. Once again, I don’t think—I do because he asks me to. The length of his engorged flesh eases the elastic of his boxer briefs away from his body, allowing me to easily push his underwear down and do as he has asked.

Then realization hits.

Rome is only the second man I’d ever touched intimately.

What do I do now?

Before I have time to think too much, he removes the conundrum from me. “Close your fingers tighter, Oz. Let me feel you gripping me.” I do as he asks, and I feel his fingers snaking down to close over mine. “Firmer, like this, baby. You’re not going to hurt me. Feels better.” This time, I can clearly hear his breath hitching, and he leans forward and kisses the shell of my ear.

“Stroke me, Oz.” And now I realize why he smoothly coated my hand in a light layer of oil a moment ago. His hand moves over mine as he guides and shows me what he likes.

“That’s it gorgeous, just like that.” His hand moves off mine and up my arm again as I continue to repeat the stroke he taught me seconds ago.

“Feels so good.” And I believe him. I can hear it in the tone of his voice and feel it in the hard steel covered in the smoothest, softest skin in my hand. He’s getting even longer and harder in my fist with every stroke.

I’m giving this to him, making him feel like this.

“Twist your wrist at the end of the stroke.” I do as he asks, and immediately, I’m rewarded with the hiss of his breath sucking in sharply.

I pause. Have I done something wrong?

His hand covers mine once again. “So good, do it again just like this.” He guides me through one stroke then let’s me do the next by myself.

With each stroke, he gives a little moan or something to let me know he’s enjoying what I’m doing to him.

Then he catches my hand again, halting my strokes any further.

“Enough for the moment. Now it’s your turn, Oz. Turn over.”

What?

“Roll over, baby, and let me finish what I’ve started.” Is he referring to the massage or the huge amount of need for him he’s created in me?

“The towel…” He stills my motioning hand with his.

“Is not needed.” And he gently uses the connection of our joined hands to roll me over. I go willingly, albeit filled with both uncertainty and also a deep-seated desire for him.

He leans down and presses his lips to mine briefly. They’re warm, soft, and reassuring. Exactly what I need to build my confidence right now.

As much as I notice his eyes scan the length of my naked body, I also feel it. It’s intense, and I have to fight the urge to cover up, but I instinctively know he’ll only convince me otherwise.

“You’re beautiful. Let me worship you a little more, Oz.” I drop my eyes from his, immediately missing the privacy I enjoyed before, as he worked on my back.

He leans forward and nabs a little kiss from my lips. “Eyes on me, Carlene.” With that, he steps back and toes off his shoes and casually peels off his socks. Then he undoes the top two buttons of his shirt before reaching behind to pull it straight over his head. It’s almost as if he can’t wait to get naked for me.

Me.

This is somehow all for me.

His torso is magnificent. Tanned, toned, and each muscle, individually defined. I’m certain he could easily pose as a model for an anatomy class, if the mood struck.

He pauses with his hands at the low waist of his pants.

“Ready?” It’s the last step, almost as if there’s no going back. No putting the lid back on Pandora’s box, so to speak.

“Yes,” I breath. I want to see the sculpture complete. I want to see the length of him I’d felt in my hand a few moments ago.

Those intense brown eyes of his never leave mine as he pushes the fabric down his thighs and steps out of both his pants and underwear.

Then he nods, and I knew what he wants. It’s time to look. I take a long blink, almost bracing myself for the full effect of the picture…and I need to.

His cock is long and proud, just a smidge short of hitting his belly button. Almost as if it is standing tall, demanding my touch and attention. He stands with his legs about shoulder-width apart, enduring my tentative inspection.

Just like his torso, Rome’s legs are perfectly matched to the rest of his physique. Strong thighs and hard, defined calves. I could look at him for hours and never get bored. His body is an artwork.

Without thinking, I circle my finger in the air, and he quirks an eyebrow and tosses a smile my way before doing as I asked.

His back matches his front. Wide, developed shoulders flow into a muscled lower back and a butt that fills out his jeans to perfection.

He’s definitely the perfect, in perfect gentleman.

Playfully, he strikes a body building pose, showing off his biceps and even more muscle development in his back and shoulders. It’s the sort of hard, dense muscle that has been built over years of concerted effort.

Rome turns back with a seductive smile. “Do I pass inspection, Oz?”

I let out a little laugh. “You know you do.”

“Good, because it’s time I did a little more inspecting of my own.” He grabs the bottle of oil from the counter and pours a little into his hands before stepping back over to the bed.

His hands begin at the tops of my shoulders and work from my biceps down over the slope of my chest but avoid my breasts. I’ve learned already, Rome is a master of creating anticipation with his hands.

“Your skin is perfect, Oz. Barely even a freckle. It’s so beautiful, I want to kiss you everywhere. Feast on you.” He’s back to using the mesmerizing combination of his hands and voice. It’s deadly to my hormones and any self-control I may have.

Each stroke of his hands move them closer and closer to my breasts. Suddenly, having his hands on them is what I want and need more than anything.

Surely, he must know how much I want his hands there? My nipples are hard little pebbles almost yelling, but rather than give me what I want, his hands skim down my sides and linger momentarily on the outside curves of my breasts.

Just when I think he’s going to ease the ache and touch them, he slides his hands underneath and runs the length of my ribs to my hips and across my stomach.

I can’t stop the little annoyed puff of air from escaping my mouth.

“What’s up, Oz? Did you want something?” He does that sexy little eyebrow raise in unison with the corner of his lips to tease me further.

Then, as if nothing has happened, he continues rubbing my belly lightly and down over my thighs. “You know you only have to ask, and I’ll give you whatever you want. I want to give you everything.” The sound of his voice is intoxicating. His eyes are focused on the movement of his hands as he spoke, until finally they flip up to meet my gaze.

“Ask me, Carlene.”

It’s a challenge, a dare, and a promise all rolled into one.

My throat burns, and my chest squeezes tight. I’ve never asked for anything in the bedroom before. Just gone along with whatever Phillip wanted. This is so different, Rome wants to know, and now, it seems ridiculous not telling him even if it is embarrassing to me.

“Put your hands on my breasts, Rome,” I manage to whisper.

A satisfied smile slips into place on his face, and he eases his hands back up my thighs over my stomach and straight up and over each breast.

The slide of his palms over my distended nipples rips a breath and a groan from me as I feel my empty center squeeze in both need and frustration.

“Good, make some noise for me. I like to know I’m hitting all the right spots.” He draws his hands back, and I think I might have whimpered a little more. “I have a hunch being vocal about what you want and feel is not something you’re familiar with. With me, I want to hear it all, know it all. Give me all of your pleasure, Oz. Talk to me. There’s no bigger turn on for me.”

There’s something so huge building in my body. I ignored it at first. Very quickly, it’s become too strong, too enticing— now I have to have it.

Rome has been relentlessly tempting me. My resistance is all but gone.

“Please, Rome,” wobbles from my lips.

“Please what, Carlene?”

My throat closes up, and I can’t form the words; years of accepted silence has rendered me mute. His eyes lock onto mine, and it’s as if he can read the silent screams of my soul.

“You want me to suck those pretty nipples that are standing so tall and straight for me, don’t you?”

I nod. “Yes.”

Relief at his words and choice to relinquish the hard line he was taking mixes with need—so much need.

“It’ll be my pleasure, baby, and it will be yours, too.”

He lowers his head to where his hands are on my breasts. His hands morph from administering a massage to cupping my breasts and offering up their fullness into his hungry mouth.

I can’t remember it ever feeling like this. His tongue laves at my nipple before he twists it with his dexterous lips and then finally draws in for a hard suck.

The most amazing jolt of pleasure passes through me. My body is hot and needy. In need of more of whatever he wants to do to me. Whatever pleasure he can give me.

The fingers of his other hand toy with the nipple of my other breast, and my hips rock up toward him, seeking his body. Needing him more and more.

His hand slips downward from my breast and rest on my mound before stroking me with a feather light touch. So light, I almost wonder whether I am imagining it.

“You’re so responsive, baby. I could get you off with just playing with your breasts, couldn’t I?” Maybe I’m imagining his fingers down there? There’s no smugness to his words, just assured confidence. What he suggested has never happened to me before. Already I have no doubt with him, and what he is making me feel, it would all be true.

He pulls back abruptly, and before I know it, he has an arm under my knees and another around my shoulders lifting me from the table. Two steps, and he places me gently on the bed. A second later, he moves the pillows from the top of the bed to within reach and stands back looking down at me.

“That table’s no place to have the orgasm I’m going to give you.” A whimper escapes from my throat, and I can see the heat in his eyes. “I want you comfortable and safe when you thrash and buck for me the first time. You with me on this?”

“Yeess,” I manage, and a, “hurry, Rome,” surprises me even more.

“Relax, I’ve got this.”

He grasps my ankles and startles me a little by pulling me down the mattress as he drops to his knees between my legs at the end of the bed.

Then he hooks my legs over his shoulders, and I freeze and desperately try to squeeze my legs closed. This isn’t what I expected and so out of my comfort zone.

“What are you doing, Rome?” I squawk.

His head lifts, and our eyes meet. I read nothing but patience.

“I’m about to lick and suck on your pussy until I bring you so much pleasure, you scream for me to stop. Why, what are you worried about?”

My mind wars with me. Can I let him? Should I? It sounds so…

Every muscle in my body has tensed, and my heart is pounding so hard, I can hear it thudding in my ears.

“I’m not…” I can’t finish.

“You’re not what?” he presses gently, never moving from where he is.

This is so hard. How do I tell him? My face is burning with embarrassment, and I have no idea how to tell him.

“You’ve never really had a man go down on you before, have you, Carlene?”

“We didn’t do that…” came blurting out. “He didn’t like it.”

“What about you, Oz? Do you like it?” Rome insists.

“I don’t know...” I manage around my tongue, which feels like it’s stuck to the roof of my mouth.

Rome slips my thighs from his shoulders and climbs up onto the bed with me. His arms embrace me, and his lips meet mine softly. There’s a comfort and reassurance to his touch on my body, and I can feel my apprehension begin to slip from me, until I’m soft in his arms once again.

He pulls back a little and looks at me as he pushes a strand of my hair back behind my ear. “Sorry, Carlene, I moved too quickly. I should have given you more time. I got too eager to taste you. I never want you to feel unsure with me.”

“Too eager to taste you.”

Can that possibly be true?

I’m so unsure but have to know. “You really mean what you said? You really want to do that? I’ve wanted to but...”

Phillip had never liked to do it and had made me feel awkward to even suggest it, so I’d let it go. It wasn’t worth getting into with him.

“Yeah, I do, baby. It’s about one of the greatest gifts a woman can give to a man.”

Isn’t it the other way around? Phillip had made me feel like I was being unreasonable. Rome picks up on the confusion I’m feeling and gives me a slow smile as he strokes a finger over my cheek.

“It’s our egos, you know. Nothing is as good for the male ego as delivering a mind-blowing orgasm to a woman. It makes us feel accomplished and beat-your-chest male. No better feeling. And I haven’t come across a woman yet that doesn’t like her pussy being eaten. So, I’m thinking it’s a very safe bet you’re going to love it. I know what I’m doing, Oz, and I’d really enjoy giving you this pleasure. Will you let me?”

Oh, my God, I’m so far out of my league, but how can I refuse an offer like that?

“Do it, Rome,” I say with a lot more confidence than I feel.

He chuckles. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

Rome

Her husband should be horse-whipped, but I can’t really come out and say that, now can I? What I can do is show her exactly what she’s been missing and just how much she can enjoy it.

And I fucking love the steel with which she told me to just do it. A little more confidence in the bedroom, and this woman is going to be smoking hot. This is one of those times that I really hate other dudes. I’d bet my Lakers season tickets, Carlene has had nothing but straight, missionary, vanilla sex. If she’s managed an orgasm that way, then the woman is innately talented.

Right now, I need to recover some ground. I broke the mood by moving too quickly. Never skip steps when you’re with a new woman and you don’t know their comfort zones, triggers, or history. Age is no factor in telling experience.

Rookie move, Rome.

Stupid thing is, my cock is straining to be inside her. That never happens. It’s normally exactly the opposite with most clients, and I have no trouble pounding away until I get them there. When I finally do get inside her, I’m going to be using every last trick I know to keep from coming until she does.

Her body shivers a little as I run my hands down her sides, and she curls into me tighter. Yeah, it won’t take much to have her right back there. She’s so damned responsive, and I have a feeling her ex has never taken advantage of it—for both of their benefits. Such a pity. Oh well, I’m about to change all that and I have every intention of making the most of everything she gives me. It would be sacrilege to do anything else.

“Give me your hand, Carlene.” She does as I ask, and I guide her hand down to my cock. “Do you know how sexy it was when you told me to go down on you, baby? Fucking sexy. Feel how hard I am, that’s all for you. Just a look in your eyes and a few words and here I am, so damn hot for you”

I kiss her, a demanding kiss. One where I push straight into her mouth and start stroking at her tongue with mine. Her body nudges at me, wanting to be closer. I slide my hand down over her and pull her knee up and over my hip. It’s a position I love.

From here, I can kiss her on the mouth, her neck, her breasts, all the while having her feeling safe and connected to me. I can also use my hand to play with her pussy until I decide when I’ll let her orgasm.

“That better, Oz?” Her eyes look a little dazed, and I kiss a trail across her jaw and down her neck to where our bodies touch. I trail a hand over her waist and trace my way to the crack of her ass which causes her to shiver in my arms but not retreat.

I use movements very similar to what I did when massaging her before. She instinctively pulls her arm back to give me access to her lush breast, which I immediately read as an invitation to suck on her hard nipple.

Her breath hitches as I suck, and I get a little bolder with my fingers, this time stroking through the slickness of her pussy a few times before tracing around her pronounced clit. She’s turned on and feeling it all in a good way.

“Baby, you’re so wet for me, and I’m going to love licking all that up. It’s going to taste so good.” I slip a finger inside, and she immediately locks down on me. This pussy is going to feel incredible when I finally get there. I add another finger gently and start to slowly move them in and out of her, hitting all the spots I know will send her wild for me.

“You love my fingers, don’t you?” I lightly flick her clit with my thumb a couple of times. “Imagine how good it’s going to feel when it’s my tongue on your clit.”

She sucks a breath between her teeth and locks her arms around me harder. I use my chest to push her to her back, then suck more deeply on her nipple. She’s getting wetter and wetter under my hand.

I want her almost to the point of orgasm when I first put my mouth on her. That way, she won’t panic about taking too long to build. She’ll be too gone with reaching for her orgasm to be self-conscious.

“That’s it baby, you’re so wet, and I love it. Tell me how it feels Oz, I need to know.”

A garbled ”so good,” comes forth from her throat and I start a line of kisses down her belly south to meet my hand. I keep my strokes inside her slow and consistent, and her hips are seeking more from me by the second.

Not yet, baby, not yet.

I dip my tongue into her belly button, and she squeals at the surprise.

“That’s it, Oz, let me hear what you like.”

As my mouth travels lower, I can feel her stiffening under me more, and her breathing has changed to audible pants. Music to my ears. Close, very close.

I nudge at her thigh with my shoulder, and like magic, she drops her thighs to open right up for me, not an ounce of resistance to be seen. There’s no fancy grooming down here, just a patch of tight light brown curls—so no fuss and Carlene. I place a series of kisses that drop me lower, and her hips rock up to meet my mouth in a move I’m sure she has no idea she’s executing.

The first touch of my tongue against her clit has her slamming her hips swiftly up to my face, and I take advantage by holding her to me with some gentle suction.

“Ahhhh…Rome.”

I gently brush my tongue against the stiff little nub a few more times, and just like magic, her whole body stiffens before plunging into the rolling waves of orgasm. Her tight pussy locking hard on my fingers with each spasm and a high pitched squeal transitions into a groan as I back off for a couple of seconds before repeating over and over.

“Please, Rome. I can’t take any more.” She pants and pushes at my head with her hand and tries to pull her hips from my grasp.

I give her one last kiss to her mound and slide back up to join her. She immediately rolls into me and snuggles her head against my chest.

“I hope you liked that Oz, because next time, I’m going to spend a lot more time down there. I’ll build it from the beginning, give you a proper full pussy worshipping.”

She doesn’t say anything at first, just shivers at my words which I interpret as a good sign. Then she lifts her head and looks me directly in the eye.

“You were right, Rome. I don’t like it, I love it, and you can do that to me anytime you want.” She’s so open and honest, it strikes a pang in the middle of my heart.

And right there is why I love my job. I also know this woman is one hell of a walking contradiction. This is a woman who’s had a life worth of heartache and disappointment she needs to unload.

Some people are psychologists, others are psychics, and some are just damned intuitive. Me, my skill is reading people through sex and touch. And Carlene is a woman who is so bottled up sexually and emotionally, she just needs someone to let the genie out—release the pressure and let her be true to herself.

And I’m pretty sure I know exactly how to do just that.