A Coming Of Angels

As expected, the trick hadn't batted an eye when the tantalizing temptress offered to show him "areal good time"for $250. She tucked the cash into her ample cleavage with practiced tease, slid into the supple leather passenger seat, and closed the precision-engineered door with an effortlessclick.As the Porsche pulled out into the evening traffic, she guided her 'date' back to her motel room. All the while, her own anticipation grew, commensurate with his, as she massaged the massive bulge in his expensive, tailored slacks.

It was supposed to be strictly business. They knew that. It was supposed to be strictly sex. They knew that. It was supposed to be strictly physical. They knew that. Whatneitherknew was how to rein in the surging electricity between them. Any thoughts of "emotional detachment" were forgotten in that first explosive coupling. He was all she craved in a man, and then some. She was the embodiment of all his dreams, and then some. She wanted him again and again; he desired the same. Each fought the same inner demons, their heads battling with their hormones, even as they reached for their shared Nirvana.

The tantalizing tart reminded herself; this one was just a 'date' like all the others. Soon, he would have enough of her, get up, and go back to his beautiful home, beautiful wife, beautifullife,as all the others had. Still, she had her cravings; if she hadn't gotten the money up front, she might have done him all night for free, caught up in the rapture of sex with such an Adonis.

He had no illusions; he knew he was just another 'trick' to her. He had paid her to get his rocks off and she had. Oh, God, had sheever! It didn't seem like she was ever going tostop!He felt he had found what had been missing from his life all these yearsand didn't want to let her go. "This is crazy,"he thought."It couldn't work. She is a child, not even out of her teens. I mean nothing to her. Only one more thing would make her perfect. OK, two more things...."For the first time in his life, he wasn't sure what to do.

Dawn was breaking before they did. Somewhere along the way, they had introduced themselves; Chaz and Marísa. There was an awkward moment as each seemed to defer to the other to make the next move. As he began making motions to get up, the thoroughly-ravished seductress's well-honed instincts took over. She impulsively grabbed her paramour by his cock – which instantly sprang to life – pulled him to her and looked him straight in the eye. "This belongs tomenow,"she intoned. "Don't eventhinkof sticking it in some other bitch's cunt. You want it? You come tome. Ihave what you need, and always will – for aprice."

Her words struckexactlythe right chord in the arousedAnglo'sears. In a daze, he extracted ten $100 bills from his wallet, rolled them up, and slipped them into her ample cleavage. No words were necessary on his part; the look in his eyes said it all. Even so, he told her to call it a "retainer" for future services. She rewarded him with a soul-searing kiss, grinding her body against his.

The wicked wanton extracted a business card from her purse. The cards had been a suggestion from the girls she worked with, one of two they claimed would pay for themselves many times over in business "on the side". Her choice had been sinfully extravagant; heavy stock with a shiny clayed surface, embossed with a blossoming red rose above a centered, scripted legend:

Marísa Duarte

Specialties

The telephone number in the lower-right corner was that of the answering service which fielded her calls – a must in the days before pagers and cell phones and thesecondof her "business expenses". She jotted the address of the club, her personal phone number (she regarded the phone in her room as such) and the words "CALL ME!".

After he was safely out of earshot, her reaction wasanythingbut indifferent. The auburn-haired enchantress leaned backward against the door, planted a passionate kiss on the bundle of $100 bills, extended it arm's-length into the air, and let out a whoop of joy in celebration of striking gold. She didn't know if she would ever see him again; tricks will promise you anything, then disappear off the face of the earth. If she didn't, the night had beenmarvilloso– and she was that much closer to her goal, as well. But maybe, justmaybe.... She dared not put a voice to her wish, for fear of hexing it.

"Chaz" appeared in the audience that same night. She almost fell off the catwalk in shock and delight. The first visit begat a second, a third, an endless string of nights. Each was the same; she danced for dozens of men, yetonly for him. He was her most devoted admirer and most generous tipper. After her shift ended, they left (discreetly separate, per club rules) and rekindled their mutual lust.

At first it had been just a prolonged fling. He was richer, better-looking, better-mannered, andbetter-equipped than most 'dates', but she didn't read anything more into it. She did not even know his last name. He knew hers, from the card she had given him, but never dwelled on it. She had the private telephone number he had given her, but never used it. There was no need; he was callingher several times a day and she adored the attention.

There was an unspoken agreement between them, to live for the moment and not have any unreasonable expectations for the future. She knew the rules; apparently, so did he. She enjoyed the hours spent with this handsome, unpretentiousAnglo,knowing his boundless generosity would soon enable her to obtain her cherished 'boob job'. She had not approached him on the subject, not knowing what his reaction would be. WithAnglos,it could go either way; they could be either wildly enthusiastic about the prospect or Puritanically opposed to such "fakery". She didn't want to rock the boat just yet, but if she played him carefully, she might even persuade him to finance the surgery outright, saving the money he had already given her as a nice bonus.

The days and nights became a blur of passions yearned, sated, then yearned anew. Marísa marveled at this amazing man of means who apparently didnada for a living. He had told her little about himself, but he was obviously well-known and held in the highest esteem by the local elite. She was unnerved as he took her to decidedly high-class restaurants, clubs, even shops along the fabledRodeo Drive,where well-to-do people greeted Chaz on a first-name basis.She could only imagine the kind of life he led. He had not spoken of a wife or family, but the men in her life rarely did. An absurd notion repeatedly tugged at her consciousness:if he married her, she could get her boob job, instant legal residency AND respectability.Each time, Marísa dismissed the thought as an insane delusion, only to have it return, teasing her.

On one occasion, the pair had encountered an acquaintance of Chaz's while they awaited seating atMa Maison.The polished, patrician woman had flirted with Chaz right in front of her, ignoring the ravishing Redhead as if she were a mere decoration on Chaz's muscular arm. The snub had been subtle, as such women were wont to do, but Marísa had instantly picked up on it. Chaz had spoken of these women before and his derisive label for the breed had stuck in her mind:society sluts.

He had been gracious, even cordial, in their repartee – and imperceptibly tightened his grip on Marísa's arm, bringing her closer to him. He introduced theLatinato the inconsiderate ingénue, addressing his paramour as "Sweetheart" and presenting her as though the two of them had been together forever. Marísa was enormously flattered by his response – and mortally offended by the temerity of the cunt's affront.

That the teen temptress flashed a less-than-sincere smile, as well as her long, elegant fingernails, was both instinctive and cautionary to her would-be rival. If Chaz had left her side for even a moment, the comely courtesan would have ripped the hussy's eyes out of her skull with her crimson talons. Just then, themaitre d'announced their table and Chaz deftly defused the situation by excusing them from his admirer.

In retrospect, that animalistic reaction – and the realization of its cause - stunned Marísa. She had been instantly, insanelyjealous of even the smallest bit of attention Chaz had paid the bitch, and possessive – no,territorial– of Chaz himself. She had never felt this intensity of emotion before, not even in the old days in theDistrícta Federál,when anotherputaput the moves on one of her dates. And Chaz had risen to her defense like, like...like a knight in shining armor!

Marísa knew at that moment she was falling in love with him. Her imagined machinations aimed at insuring legitimacy, residency, even her cherished boob job now seemed inconsequential; she wantedhim!Even now she harbored thoughts, hopes,prayersof making him hers alone - buthow? She had now seen the face of the competition – and the teen tart was afraid.

Marísa had shared everything about her whirlwind romance with Lola. Now she broached the subject of a "makeover", reasoning that if she, Marísa, became more like the elegant women that inhabited Chaz's world, she would have a better chance of keeping him. Lola recoiled in disgust at the suggestion. She placed her hands on her younger friend's shoulders, held her close, and looked her in the eye.

"Querída, I love you like my own flesh and blood. You know how I feel about your whoring around, how much it frightens me. But you are what you are; flashy, provocative, aputa,who lives for the thrill of flaunting yourself for all to see. This man has been good to you, is goodforyou, and I want you to be happy with him.

"The change you propose issonot you. You would despise it in a week. More to the point, I thinkhewould despise itinmediatamente.From what you have told me, he could have his pick of such women anytime he chooses. If that were his desire, would he be spending all his time -y dinero - on you?Me paréce que no. Even if he were just...como se dice...'slumming', it wouldn't matter what you look like; he would return to his world and his kind anyway.

"My advice to you is,be yourself. That is what attracted him to you in the first place. That is what will make him stay – if he is to stay at all.Venga,let me show you what I think hereallywants."

Marísa danced at the club that night. Lola's ministrations had had the desired effect –on everyone. Even the dazzling dancer herself was aroused by the cosmetologist's enchanting, erotic 'creation'. Taking her best friend's admonition to heart, Marísa slipped into her first dance costume - and the persona that fit her best; that of the libertine, streetwise strumpet who lived for carnal pleasure and could not be satisfied byany one man. It was that incarnation that drove most men wild in the past; it would be thatputaon which she would now hang her hopes for the future. Theputa knew she would have sex withsomeonethat night, whether Chaz or another. Against that knowledge, she tucked a spare motel room key into an inner pouch in her garter, designed for just such a purpose.

The teen temptress's "come-hither" seductive appeal and sensual body movements struck the audience like a bomb. She had no time to look for Chaz; she was overwhelmed by requests for table dances, lap dances – and more. One tall, muscular black man just kept slipping twenty-dollar bills into her garter until she promised him his requested 'couch dance' in the V.I.P. suite upstairs.

Club rules were explicit; dancers werenot allowedto have sex with patrons on club premises. Still, there were exceptions to any rule – or at least ways to get around it – and this man wasreally attractive,on a par with Chaz. Surreptitiously, shielded from view between their bodies, his hands were not to be denied their gentle, yet insistent exploration of her most private parts. The lovelyLatinawas already halfway to Paradise as they mounted the stairs. Her suitor was not far behind.

The sensual siren spied Chaz as she descended the steps from the second floor. She excused herself from her patron with a flourish of more-than-casual affection and made her way towards her lover's table. En route, she stopped to flirt with other guests, acceding to a request for a lap dance barely ten feet from hernovio.Herbodyteased, taunted, aroused the enraptured man; hereyesdrifted past his ear, locking onto a pair of Baby Blues she knew all too well.

She stood before him at last, having run the gauntlet of aroused patrons. She herself was in a heightened state of arousal; so much so, she made no attempt to hide the glistening wet spot in the crotch of her skimpy costume. She had intended topunish Chaz, make him jealous of the other men's affections – just as she had been jealous of thebimba rica who had come on to him in the restaurant.

One glance at his crotch suggested anentirely different reaction to her pandering proclivities. Accepting his proffered $100 bill, she granted him a blistering lap dance, admonishing himnot to touch her,as per club rules. As she writhed against his body, she made certain he could feel her wetness, hinting it wasnot her wetness alonethat he felt.

The wayward wench, filled with sudden inspiration, barraged her paramour with a stream-of-consciousness patter about her just-completed intimate interlude in the V.I.P. suite. Fact was liberally interspersed with fiction, yet Chaz was none the wiser. She felt, rather than saw his obvious anatomical response. Marisa began to see a pattern she recognized from the past – and thoroughly relished. Perhaps it was not justthe lookthat turned Chaz on. For the first time, the young woman dared to believe she reallycould make thisnorteño hers alone. She would be taking an awful risk, but one way or another, shehadto find out.

She slipped the room key into his pants pocket, lingering oh-so-lovingly on his aroused manhood. She whispered breathily in his ear, instructing him to go to her motel room and wait for her there. Her instructions went on explicitly, ending with a warning: "You are not the only game in town,mi corazón.Do it my way, or...."

With that, she ended the dance and walked away, not even looking back. She made her way directly to the table of the black man she had danced for earlier. Alighting on his lap, she encircled his neck with her arms and whispered in his ear as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Hugging him tightly, shethenlooked back to Chaz, fixing his gaze with her own. He received her unspoken message clearly. He left the club, following her instructions as explicitly as she had voiced them. He wasn't sure how long he waited before she arrived. All he knew wasshe wasn't alone.

He could see everything; she had made sure of that. He had never seen her look so confident, self-assured, radiant – or desirable. The black calfskinbustier-style minidress looked to be molded to her voluptuous curves. She wore black seamed stockings which followed every contour of her shapely legs, ending in black calfskin ankle-strap sandals with six-inch stiletto heels.

The man was almost as tall as he; solid, if not as well-defined, skin glistening like polished mahogany. She accepted his money with practiced ease, placing it somewhere out of eyeshot. She returned, unzipped her dress, stepped out of it, and draped it neatly over the dresser. Still clad in garterbelt, stockings, and high heels, she stepped willingly, wantingly, into the man's embrace.

For what seemed like an eternity, Chaz watched the man take her, have her, use her. He listened to the bed creak, the man's guttural grunts and Marisa's screams and wails as they came again and again, knowing from his own experience she wasnotfaking. There wasnothing he could do about it.

When at last it was over and the man had left, Marisa lay on the bed, panting. After a time she got up, strode confidently to the ajar closet door and rolled it fully open on its tracks. Chaz was there, naked, handcuffed to the chair by ankles and wrists, just as she had instructed. She stood before him haughtily, defiantly, her stiletto-clad feet splayed. A dribble of cum oozed languidly down her inner thigh, tracing a lazy path over the top of her stocking. She did not have to ask Chaz's reaction to her "floor show"; his enormous, rock-hard erection spoke for him.

She straddled his lap and, with a contented sigh, impaled her cum-soaked pussy on his raging rod. The handcuff key dangled from an elastic band encircling her diminutive wrist. She felt no urgent need to use it yet. The temptress cupped her helpless lover's chin in one crimson-taloned hand and held his gaze with her own. "Bueno, mi amor,"she intoned."If it is putayou want, it is putayou will get – with a vengeance!" The rest of the night was sheer bliss.

From that moment on, Marisa immersed herself in the role that had been a lifetime in the making. She had been in the business long enough to know every man had a 'button', an all-consuming desire that, when pushed, crushed his pride, his ego, his will, and made him do things he would not otherwisedreamof doing. Apparently, the other women in Chaz's life didn't know – or care. But she knew – in fact,she had been his 'button' all along. To push it, all she had to do wasbe herself,just as Lola had admonished.

Instead of meeting him in the parking lot outside the club, she now had him pick her up in hooker bars where everyone knewheron a first-name basis. She would be dressed and made up brazenly, in a manner that bespoke her 'profession'. The salacious slut made certain a bevy of other men were fawning over her, pawing her oh-so-accessible body by the time he arrived. She would fix his gaze with her own, inviting him,daringhim to watch, to see howdesirableshe was, how easily other men could have her – for the right price. She also made sure everyone – including Chaz - understood he was just another 'date'; if he took her home, fine, if not....

Marisa delighted in devising new variations of the hooker-john game to please her lover. There were the more traditional 'dates' that required him to pick her up on one or another street corner – some in very high-profile, respectable locations. On a few delicious occasions, she mandated the 'pickup point' to be an upscale restaurant lounge or nightclub they had visited before as a couple.

With Lola's assistance, she now maxed out her whorish appearance and demeanor. She wore only the boldest, most provocative slutwear and skyscraper-stiletto-heeled shoes. Her makeup was far heavier, her hair more dramatic, her fingernails longer and more flashily decorated than even the current fashion trends would allow. The gold neck chains, multiple rings, and three-inch-hoop earrings completed the picture. If she had hung a neon sign around her neck flashing "PROSTITUTE", she could not have been more obvious.

All who saw them together would know withabsolute certaintythe true nature of their 'relationship' – which was exactly what the cunning cocktease had intended. The looks of scorn they received from the people who saw them ("Isn't that disgusting? Just look at how he flaunts that trollup!")became a turn-on for both of them. Chaz thrilled at having such a woman on his arm, in his life, and wantedeveryoneto be jealous. Marisa was equally thrilled to have such a man - on her own terms. After such a thrill, they coupled frantically, sometimes in very public places. He took her forcefully and exploded his cum inside her in torrents – just the way she liked her men.