A 21st Century Courtesan Read online

  And soon I sense that first raw edge. Pleasure ripples through me in long, undulating waves. Almost there.

  Joshua …

  Oh, yes, his cock driving into me, his mouth on mine. He tastes like good scotch: that smooth, that silky. His tongue in my mouth, his cock deep inside me, and I'm nearly coming now … ah, yes,

  My hips arch into the vibrator, my sex clenches … and then, nothing.

  No!

  I bury the vibrator deeper, angle it harder, and my climax starts again, that heaviness weighing down on my belly, simmering, spreading. But once more it tapers off, disappears.

  Fuck!

  I almost want to cry. But I take a deep breath, picture his face again.

  His mouth is one of the hottest things I've ever seen. Yes, imagine that mouth between my thighs, licking my damp slit, sucking on my clit, hard and steady, just the way I like it. And his big hands gripping my hips, holding me down.

  Yes…

  Warm and wet and sucking …

  My body is shaking so damn hard with the need to come, I can barely hold the vibrator. I grip harder, thrust it in and out, moving my hips in time. There is sweat on the back of my neck, between my breasts, between my thighs. If he were here with me, he'd be slippery with my sweat, his face buried in my soaking wet mound, loving my shaved pussy.

  A long surge of pleasure running through me. My elusive orgasm builds once more, higher and higher. I squeeze my eyes shut tight, see his face, his tongue in my mouth and in my pussy at the same time, his cock plunging into me, his hands on my breasts, squeezing my nipples.

  Oh, yes!

  I reach for that peak, pleasure shivering through me, and poise on the edge.

  Joshua!

  I tremble, begin to come.

  Ah, yes …

  And it's gone, as if it never existed. And I am defeated once more.

  God damn it!

  I really do want to cry now. But I knew this is how it would end. It always does. I am always left panting and weak with unmet need.

  Too bad I can't pick up the phone, call one of my clients. But we never, ever do that.

  I want to throw the vibrator across the room. But I set it on the night table and throw the covers back instead, get out of bed and walk naked to the kitchen. I'm having that damn drink.

  I pour the gin and take it back to bed with me, sitting up against the pillows, my body still shivering with need that will not be met tonight. And along with it, that sense of revulsion I have on those rare occasions when I allow myself to drink like this: to comfort myself, to use the alcohol. But I'm drinking it anyway.

  The moonlight is coming through the heavy paned windows, washing the room in silver. Everything looks surreal in the moonlight. Everything feels surreal to me: the aching desire in my body, the memory of the opera tonight. It's almost as though none of it ever happened. Maybe it didn't. I almost want to get up again and look for his card in my purse.

  But it may as well have never happened, for all the good it'll do me. Because I cannot become involved with this man. Impossible. Fucking impossible. This is the condition of my life, and I have to accept it. I have accepted it.

  God damn it.

  THE SUN WAKES ME. I squint into the light, roll over, and pull my pillow over my head. I swear my sex is still quivering with need. So hard I have to squeeze my thighs together, trying to make it go away. No use.

  I dreamed of him last night. I don't remember much, just a dark writhing of naked flesh, his face, his mouth. My fingers reaching out to touch it, those lush lips, then him taking my fingers into his mouth, that exquisite moist heat.

  God.

  I really need to stop.

  I need to work, is what I need to do.

  I roll out of bed and check my messages. One from Deirdre, letting me know Louis wants to see me. Apparently he tried to reach me last night, but my cell was off while I was at the opera. My regulars can usually reach me directly, but they know what to do if I'm not available enough for them: call Deirdre and have her get me, or find them another girl.

  Deirdre is my madam, I suppose you would call her, although we who work for her call her The Broker. She's a cold woman, but she does her job incredibly well. She is elegant, sophisticated, has connections in the highest circles. She's more than fair to us. We make plenty of money for her; she should be. And she's not the type to resent the private gifts our clients give us: jewelry, designer clothes, even extra cash. She knows that her clients are satisfied when her girls are happy.

  So, it's to be Louis today. I'm happy about that. I adore Louis. He's one of my favorites. He's sweet to me, and the most sensual of lovers. The fact that he's blind probably has something to do with that.

  I don't pity him, which is why he asks for me, again and again. He's a strong man, a smart man; there's nothing to pity if you look beyond his inability to see. And he's ridiculously rich. His gifts to me are always extravagant. In fact, the car I currently drive was from Louis after a particularly long weekend of debauchery at his weekend house in Palm Springs. But today I need him more for the sex than anything else.

  My body is buzzing again, alive, ready. In the shower I run my hands over my slick skin, between my thighs, and shiver with anticipation.

  Yes, think about Louis, my client. Don't think of Joshua Spencer.

  But of course he is all I can think of.

  I'm to see Louis at lunch today, so I don't have much time. I put my makeup on, even though he can't see it. I always look my best. I would never consider leaving the house if I didn't. A woman in my position can't afford to risk that.

  I dress in a soft knit wrap dress because it feels lovely and it'll be fun for him to take off. And beneath it, a lacy bra and G-string. Louis loves me in a G-string. He likes to go down on me, to fuck me without having to take it off.

  I slip into a pair of heeled sandals and grab my purse and my keys. Outside it's warm and sunny, the air filled with the tangy scent of the eucalyptus trees that grow all over these canyons. I love living in the Hollywood Hills. There is an utter sense of privacy here, yet I can feel the hum of energy from the city below. Maybe it's all in my head. But I love it. It is the exact opposite of the deathly dull environment I was raised in. And as much as I hate to think about my past, I like to revel in the sensation of that utter contrast.

  My slick little black Mercedes coupe is in the driveway, and I slide in behind the wheel. It starts with its customary purr. Taking in a long breath, I inhale the new leather scent, mixed now with the scent of the trees outside.

  I hit the button which opens the gates to my property and back out of the drive, shifting as I swing down the road. It's a short drive to Beverly Hills and I'm early, but I want to stop and pick up a loaf of Louis's favorite bread at this little Italian bakery in my neighborhood.

  I'm there in only moments. The bakery smells like heaven, and I realize I'm hungry. I hope a lunch date means lunch today, along with the sex. I should have eaten a little something before I left the house. I'm not thinking today. I can blame it on my slight hangover, but I know that's not what it's about.

  I really need to get Joshua out of my head before I get into bed with Louis.

  You see, this is one reason why a relationship doesn't work for a woman in my position. It makes us lose focus.

  The guy behind the bakery counter asks what I want. He's one of those pretty gay boys, all smooth skin and wide, glossy eyes. He's flirting with me, anyway, which is one reason why I adore gay men. My body heats up a little in response; I can feel my nipples going hard just watching his mouth move as he asks me what I want.

  God, I'm in bad shape. My dear Louis is going to get the fuck of his life.

  I get my bread and leave, make the short drive to Louis's house. Although calling it a house is a bit absurd. This place is a mansion, of the classic Beverly Hills variety. A large colonial, with soaring white columns, a large, circular drive with a fountain in the middle, the water splashing, gleaming in the sun.
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  Louis's valet, Thomas, answers the door. His face is expressionless, as always. He knows exactly who and what I am. If he has an opinion about it, it never shows on his stony features. He leads me to the back terrace overlooking the garden and the pool. The table is gorgeously set with china and crystal, a lovely centerpiece filled with enormous Casablanca lilies. Their perfume would be a bit overwhelming if we weren't outside.

  Louis's gardens are beautiful, and it's a shame he can't enjoy the view. But he's had his gardeners plant fragrant roses, rosemary, tuberose, everything that smells good, so that the air is always perfumed.

  He is already seated at the table, but ever the gentleman, he rises as I step outside, a moment before the first click of my heels on the patio.

  “Louis, how lovely! I didn't expect to see you today. I'm so glad you called.”

  “I'm glad you were available. I had a cancellation and hoped you would make time for me.”

  He reaches out and I put my hand in his. That first tingle, just from the warmth of his touch. I truly like Louis. He's a wonderful man, a longtime client, so gentle, so kind. Far too alone.

  “Sit down, Val, and eat with me. Are you hungry?”

  “Yes, I'm starving. I brought some of that Italian bread you like.” I hand it to his valet, who will take it into the kitchen and have it sliced for us.

  “I thought I smelled it. You're an angel, Val.”

  He settles back into his chair gracefully, as he does everything. He is a large man, a bit bulky, yet still elegant in his demeanor. He's not particularly attractive, but that doesn't matter to me. He has an average face, his eyes covered with dark glasses. Good teeth, thinning brown hair. But it's his hands I love. They are the most sensitive hands, as though he can almost see with them. They really are his eyes, I suppose. His touch is entirely unique. Incredibly knowing, tender.

  I give a long shiver of need.

  Lunch is served, a nicely done salad with grilled salmon, a little white wine. I don't bother to ask about the vintage; Louis is a gourmand and I know it will be superb. It is.

  As we eat we chat about his business, how tired he is of it, how he'll retire soon. Louis has been threatening to retire as long as I've known him. But he won't do it until he must, I'm sure. He needs to feel needed, useful. That's part of my job.

  I reach out and touch his hand.

  “Have you had time to digest, Louis?”

  He smiles, turns toward me. “I ate lightly on purpose, Val. Just enough to fuel me.”

  “Then take me inside and fuck me. Please?”

  “Such dirty talk, Val.”

  But his smile broadens, and I really can hardly wait. I'm throbbing all over simply anticipating it.

  He stands and I take his hand, and he leads me into the house. His bedroom is on the first floor, a large room with an enormous bed in the center. One of those grand affairs you'd expect to find in a mansion, with four ornately carved posts soaring toward the vaulted ceiling. Everything is done in creamy shades on silk and velvet, the lovely textures that make his world come alive. Beautiful against the dark wood.

  He sits on the end of the bed and I go to him, pull his hands to my face. He spends a moment exploring my features, as he always does.

  “I'll have an extra gift for you today, Val, for coming on such short notice.”

  “Oh, I intend to,” I joke, making him smile once more.

  His fingers dip between my lips, and I pull them into my mouth, sucking on them. My dream from last night flashes through my head: Joshua Spencer's wet mouth wrapped around my own fingers, pulling, sucking. Ah …

  I am soaked already.

  “That's so good, Val,” Louis tells me, his voice gone quiet. “But I want my cock there.”

  “So do I,” I tell him, dropping to my knees and opening his trousers to release his hard flesh.

  Louis's cock is a nice size, perhaps a bit larger than average. Only half hard now, but I'll take care of that quickly enough.

  I lower my head and blow on it. I know he loves that, the feel of my warm breath on his flesh. His cock stirs, and I smile to myself. There is such a sense of power in what we can do to a man. They truly are powerless at times like this. I could ask him for anything. But all I want is his touch today, his cock. And of course, the knowledge that I will be paid for my services. But today it could be a dollar.

  I lean closer and breathe him in. He is all clean soap and a hint of aftershave. His skin is sweet as I take the head into my mouth. I linger there, curling my tongue around his hardening flesh, teasing him. I hear him moan above me.

  “Ah, that's it, Val.” A gentle hand goes into my hair, and he runs his fingers through it. “So soft,” he murmurs. “Your hair, your mouth …”

  I pull him in deeper and begin to suck, curling my hand under his balls, fondling them gently.

  “You're going to make me come too soon, Val. You know how much I love that.”

  I pull back for a moment to ask him, “Do you want me to stop? Or do you want to come in my mouth, Louis?”

  “If you keep talking to me like that, I'm going to come all over your face, you minx.” He chuckles.

  He's really a good boy. A little bit of dirtiness goes a long way with him.

  “Tell me how you want it, Louis.”

  “I want you to suck me for another minute or two, then I want to lick you. I want to feel you come. And then I want to screw you, come inside you.”

  Yes, a good boy. He never says “fuck.”

  “You're the boss, Louis. Your wish is my command.”

  I bend over him once more and really go to work, sucking hard, sliding his shaft in and out of my mouth, taking him deep into my throat, until he's moaning, squirming. Until I know he's nearly coming. I stop.

  “Ah,” he groans. “Perfect. Now I need to touch you, Val.”

  I stand up, and find I'm a bit shaky on my feet. And when he runs his hands over my body, goose bumps rise all over my skin. He smiles a little when he feels the soft texture of the dress. Untying it, he slides it from my body, his hands somehow never leaving my flesh. He explores me slowly, his fingers running over the lace of my bra, making my nipples harden into two stiff peaks. Then he moves lower, brushing the small lacy triangle between my thighs. I let out a sigh.

  “Eager today, Val?”

  “I'm so ready for you, Louis. Touch me and see.”

  He does, a gentle glide of fingers beneath my G-string and over my aching slit.

  “Very nice,” he says, his voice rough with lust, making me smile.

  His hands move back up my body, to my breasts, and he squeezes gently. Unfastening the clasp in the front, he slides the bra from my shoulders, and I feel gloriously free, almost as though the air itself is caressing my skin.

  But in moments it is Louis's clever hands, soft on my flesh. His touch is so gentle, and from another man I might find this frustrating, but with Louis it is always lovely. That slip and slide of his fingers over my skin, circling my nipples until they hurt. God, they hurt.

  “Suck on them, Louis,” I plead with him.

  He does just that, leaning in and taking one hard nub of flesh into his mouth. Ah, warm and wet and sweet, that sweep of his tongue. And I'm shivering, pleasure pouring through my system.

  He moves his mouth down my body, circles my waist with his soft hands, pulling me around and laying me down on the bed so that my legs hang over the edge. He goes down on his knees, and I tremble all over, waiting for his mouth between my thighs. A moment later he parts my legs wider, teases at the edge of the lacy G-string with his fingers, then pulls it aside. Using his tongue, he teases the very tip of my hardened clit, and I'm shivering, clenching already.

  “Yes, Louis. Lick me.”

  His tongue flicks against my clit again, then moves lower, licking at my swollen pussy lips.

  “Inside, Louis. Please.”

  I arch my hips, and he obliges, his soft, warm tongue dipping inside me. Pleasure seeps into me like water, li
ke the heat of his wet mouth.

  His hands are on my thighs, making little circles on my skin. I love when he does this; it's a dual sensation, as though I am being touched everywhere, making my skin hot, sensitive. It's a lovely sort of distraction from what he's doing to my pussy, so that I won't come too quickly.

  His fingers trace a long line down the insides of my legs, to my ankles. His fingertips skim the bones there, tickling a little, as his tongue laps at my clit, gently, featherlike, until I can hardly stand it.

  “Make me come, Louis. Make me come in your mouth. You know I love that. You know you love that.”

  He moans, his tone as gentle as everything else about him. And he licks me in a slow, steady rhythm, his fingers now teasing at the lips of my sex, adding to the sensation, layer upon layer. Pleasure swarms my system, and as the first wave of climax shivers over my skin, Joshua's face appears before me. And I let him be there, let it be him licking me gently to orgasm as the waves come crashing down on me. Pleasure courses through me, sharp, sharper, with Joshua's beautiful face in my mind, Joshua and the knowledge that it's Louis between my thighs. My paying client.

  I'm coming harder and harder, can't seem to stop. I'm shaking with the power of it, and Louis is moaning now along with me.

  Finally it's over. He lifts his head.

  “That was spectacular,” he says, his voice low.

  “Yes it was,” I agree. I don't have to tell him why. “You're going to fuck me now, aren't you, Louis?”

  “You are a very dirty girl, Val,” he says, chuckling. “But yes, I am.”

  I sit up and help him out of his clothes, taking a few moments to run my hand over his skin, making sure to keep that sensory contact with him while I grab a condom from my purse on the floor by my feet.

  When he's naked I pull him down on the bed and climb on top of him, slip the condom over his cock, then hold myself over his body, tucking the head inside me with my fingers. I leave just the head there for a moment, savoring that first sensation of fullness, needing more. I need to come again. Once wasn't nearly enough, not today.