Warning Order

Watching through the peephole, Angelina bounded into view, dark and distorted by the fisheye lens. I went to open the door, but she was too quick, landing several knocks before I managed to twist the knob. I barely got the door ajar before she brushed past me into my living room.

"Um, hi," I breathed. "How are you?"

"Fine thanks," she mumbled, fishing around in her black leather handbag. "You're paying by card?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry." I slipped the Gold Mastercard from my pocket and handed it over.

She didn't look at me as she took it, instead focussing her attention on operating the portable EFTPOS machine, beeping away at the keypad. She brushed the ringlets of raven hair away from her heavily made up eyes, then swiped my card.

"I need your PIN." She thrust the EFTPOS machine at me.

I took it and tapped in my code. I tried to make eye contact when I handed it back, but Angelina was avoiding my gaze, her head slightly tilted and the ends of her dark, curly hair tickling at the left shoulder of her black crop jacket. The EFTPOS machine spat out a receipt with a high-pitched, electric grind, and she tore it off and handed it over along with my credit card.

I checked that the total read $250 as I slipped both into my pocket. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No thanks, I'm okay." She looked down the hall. "That's your bedroom?"

"Yeah, on the left." I followed her, revelling in the spectacular curve of her ass in that black mini as she walked off.

Angelina peeled off her crop jacket as she marched into my bedroom, dropping it on the floor in the corner. Putting her handbag on the bedside table, she picked up the phone and announced, "I've just got to call the studio and let them know I'm here."

I nodded, familiar with the procedure. She turned her back to me as she spoke, and stepped down out of her stilettos, losing a couple of inches in height so she was a good head and shoulders shorter than me. Hanging up, she turned around and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her skirt, and staring at my chest, she wiggled it down over the delicious flare of her hips, revealing a skimpy pair of black panties. Angelina was stunning. Her creamy skin was flawless, and contrasted brilliantly with her dark features and the black singlet that struggled to contain her breasts.

"Mmm," she purred when I peeled off my t-shirt, strutting over to me. She pressed her fingertips into my abs, pressing hard against the muscles as she drew her fingers down to my fly.

I sniffed at the frangipani scent of her hair as she undid my jeans. Angelina pulled them, along with my jocks, down my thighs, causing my cock to bounce free between us. She followed my pants to the floor, squatting in front of me. Rather clinically, she held my erect shaft with one hand while she inspected my balls with the other for any visible sign of sexually transmitted infection.

"You look fine," she said matter of factly, rising to her feet.

"Yeah, I had a new one put in last week," I smiled, but she didn't care for my banter.

Angelina pushed me back onto the bed, and I scooted backwards as she crawled on top of me, until I was sitting up against the bedhead. Straddling my waist, my cock grinding into her panty-clad pussy, she crossed her arms and slipped her singlet off. I barely got a look at her amazing breasts before she grabbed my head and smothered me between them.

The left side of my face throbbed with pain at the rough contact, and I struggled to breathe. I got my hands up to her soft globes, each full breast spilling out of my grasp. I tried to push her back slightly, so I could get control of her and maybe get one of the nipples that was flicking against my fingers into my mouth. But the bear hug she had on my skull was too tight, so all I could kiss was her sternum.

I was actually getting turned off by how sexually aggressive she was.

"Do you like my tits?" She released her grip on my head, allowing me to breathe. "They're real, you know?"

"They're beautiful," I replied, trying to say the right thing regardless.

With the space I had, I started planting little kisses on her collar bone while I kneaded the soft flesh of her breasts, causing her nipples to harden beneath my caressing thumbs. I kissed my way up her neck, marvelling in the smooth tightness of her nineteen year old skin. A moan caught in the back of her throat as I flicked my tongue across the soft spot behind her ear.

I moved in to kiss her, but she turned her face away. When she brought it back, I tried again, but with the same result.

"You don't kiss?" I whispered, receiving a shake of her head by way of reply. I tried to contain my sigh, but to no avail. Desperate to salvage the situation, I asked, "Can I go down on you?"

Angelina nodded, flicking her dark curls across my face. I tapped her thigh and leaned forward, forcing her to scramble backwards. She lay down on her back along the foot of the bed, and I crawled over the top of her.

I resumed my gentle kisses behind her ear, before making my way along her jawline, then down her throat. I was still amazed by how smooth her skin felt against my lips. My wonder continued as I climbed the soft peak of her right breast. I sucked her hard nub into my mouth, spiralling my tongue around the pucker of her areola, while I rolled her other nipple between my thumb and forefinger.

Squeezing her breasts together, I took her other nipple into my mouth, gently chewing on both, before releasing the first to my pinching fingers. I suckled her proud point, softly biting down and flicking the end with my tongue. It seemed to do the trick, eliciting a long moan from her as she arched her back beneath me.

For the first time since I had gained control, I felt her encouragement as her hand caressed my back. I looked up at her, but her head was back, and her eyes closed. I snorted a laugh as she pushed down on my shoulders, directing me towards her pussy.

"What?"

"You obviously want me to go somewhere?" I smiled.

Angelina ignored me, sinking back into the bed with a purr as I began my journey across her taut stomach. I ran my hands down her smooth curves ahead of my kisses, registering every tactile sensation, until I firmly held her hips. Taking in the sight, I then pressed my lips to her mound through her black, lace panties.

I dug my fingers in around the waistband of her underwear, and she lifted her ass off the bed to let me pull them down. When her fully shaven slit came into view, I flushed with warmth. No longer able to take my time, I yanked her panties down her long legs and threw them over my shoulder in a frenzy.

I grabbed her slender legs behind the knees and splayed them apart as I settled in a kneeling crouch between them. Angelina's pussy was so unbelievably pretty. Her delicate, pink folds glistened with her arousal. I licked the length of her slit with the flat of my tongue, causing her to twitch. And I repeated the process over and over.

Burrowing the tip of my tongue between her labia, I gouged up towards her clit. She gasped at the contact with her sensitive button, and I began to focus my attention there, flicking and swirling and sucking. Angelina bucked her hips underneath me, moaning loudly.

I slowly eased my finger inside her, but before I got to the first knuckle, she tightly gripped my wrist. I looked up at her, finally achieving eye contact for the first time since we had met.

"Don't put your fingers in me." Her tone was serious, without the slightest hint of arousal or shortness of breath.

I had no issue respecting her wishes, but I was starting to get annoyed. This wasn't what I wanted.

But before I had time to talk myself out of anything, Angelina pulled my head back between her legs. Pussy's pussy, I thought as I continued working her clit with my mouth. I kept my hands on her creamy inner thighs and ate her out for all I was worth. Eventually her moans reached a violent crescendo as her gyrating hips bucked in wild spasms.

I sat back on my heels, wondering if I had actually made her come, or she was just keeping to schedule. Regretting my decision to call Langtrees, I watched her crawl over to the bedside table to retrieve a condom from her handbag.

My father's voice echoed in my ears: never pass a toilet; never trust a fart; and never waste an erection. Sound advice, I thought. And as long as I had paid for the hour, I might as well see this through.

Angelina's ass was a perfect ripe peach bent over in front of me. I couldn't help but reach out and grope her, squeezing the firm flesh of her left buttock. But she sidestepped on her knees out of my reach with a sigh, causing me to parrot her frustration.

Then my uncle's advice invaded my thoughts as I watched her struggle to get the condom on me. He had been in the Navy, and the mantra those blokes lived by seemed frightfully apt. On his first day in, he had been told to sleep with an Australian prostitute, so he knew what zero out of ten felt like. I couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah, I know," Angelina chuckled. "I need the big ones." She went back to her handbag for another condom, oblivious to what I was really thinking.

At least she was making the effort to flatter me. The standard ones fit just fine, I knew. The younger girls often played this game. As long as she didn't drag it out to the point I lost my erection.

Thankfully she didn't. Instead, she pinched the tip and rolled the condom down my shaft to the base, wanking me with her hand to spread the lube. Once I was suited up, Angelina lay back across the foot of the bed, pulling me between her legs and guiding the tip of my cock to her opening.

I wriggled my mushroom head past her pussy lips, then let my weight slowly sink my full length inside her. I could feel the warm pressure of her snatch around my cock, and her smooth thighs around my hips, but the "extra large" Can't-Feel-Shits from Trojan were definitely taking the shine off. Pulling out an inch or two to check that it was at least staying in place, I began to slowly fuck her. Angelina groaned as I bottomed out at the end of each stroke, my balls adding the slapping percussion against her ass.

"Are you okay?" Despite everything, I still wanted to make sure she was all right.

"Uh-huh," she grunted beneath me through closed eyes.

Angelina was easily the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, let alone had sex with. However, the complete absence of any emotional connection with her whatsoever, and the desensitising effect of the condom kept me in a kind of sexual no man's land. I fucked her non-stop for well over half an hour, according to the occasional glances at my alarm clock.

With our time together drawing to a close, I picked up my pace, slamming into her slippery cunt like an animal. The sweat was pouring off me, and Angelina's heavy breasts jiggled frictionlessly between us. The slurping, slapping grunting mess of our sex assaulted my ears as I fucked her, until finally, I felt that familiar tingle that signalled my release.

"I'm going to come!" I groaned.

Angelina gave no reply, instead just holding herself in place with her arms and legs wrapped around me.

My orgasm was unremarkable, gently easing over me like a warm, wet blanket. I barely felt the cum oozing from my cock into the condom.

They can't all be mind-blowing, I thought, as I lay spent on top of her. When I regained my breath, I reached between us to grab the base of the condom, making sure it didn't come off inside her when I slipped out.

"Can I have a shower?" Angelina broke the silence as soon as I rolled off her.

I held out my hand, helping her up off the bed, and led her into the ensuite. She was a strikingly beautiful woman, and her smeared makeup and dark ringlets of hair plastered to her forehead only made her look more so. But after I pointed out the fresh towels and toiletries, she shut the door on me, denying me the chance to watch her while she showered.

I pulled on my jeans and sat on the bed while I waited for her. "What the fuck am I doing?" I sighed to myself. This wasn't the life affirming experience I was hoping for. But more often than not, it wasn't, I chided myself. I knew that.

Angelina came out of the bathroom wrapped in a white towel. Her raven hair was returned to its former glory and her makeup had been reapplied. She found her panties over by the wardrobe, and slipped them on underneath the towel. Then turning her back to me, she dropped the towel and put her black singlet back on.

"This isn't all I do, you know?" She turned around to face me, stepping into her skirt and shimmying it up her shapely legs. "I'm just doing this while I'm studying. I actually go to Murdoch University."

"What do you study?" I smiled, feeling bad for her that she felt it necessary to justify herself. I can't remember what her answer was. And it honestly doesn't matter. What does, is that I felt all the more alone for having spent time with her.

The phone rang as she shrugged on her crop jacket. It was Langtrees calling to let us know that my time was up, and to see if I wanted to extend. Angelina took the handset and confirmed that she was all right, and that there would be no extension.

"The driver's downstairs," she announced, returning the handset to its cradle. She stepped up into her heels and strode out into the living area.

I followed, unable to resist glancing down at her perfect ass as she walked to the front door. "Thank you," I said as she pulled it open.

Angelina turned on the landing to face me as I stood at the threshold, still without my shirt. She was an expert at avoiding eye contact, but she managed a tight smile and a half-assed wave before she bounced off down the stairs.

I let the door swing shut, then allowed my forehead to fall against the wood. After a minute or two, I spun around and rested with my back to the door, before slowly sliding to the floor and hugging my knees.

I just wanted someone to hold. Someone to hold me. Instead, I ended up fucking an insecure, nineteen year old prostitute.

"Fucking good one!" I threw my head back, banging it painfully into the door. "Ahh! Motherfucker!"

My grumbling stomach finally shook me loose from my self-pity. I got up from the floor, threw on my black t-shirt and a pair of boots, and wandered over to Cicerello's for some fish and chips. The place was heaving, as usual. There was no trouble finding a seat though, given nobody wanted to sit next to the tall, sweaty, bruised up thug in black. But the self-proclaimed world's finest went down nicely with a couple of beers.

Back at my place, I tried to distract myself by watching some cheesy sitcoms I had taped earlier during the week. And for the most part, it worked. But when the shows ended, I was back at square one, overcome with loneliness.

"Don't do it," I sighed to no one.

But it was hopeless. Of course I was going to do it.

"Hello. Langtrees. How can we help you?"

When I hung up, Donna was thirty minutes away. Once again that night, I was a study of frenetic, domestic activity. I removed the doona cover, still wet with sweat and pussy. By the earthiness of the aroma, it seemed that Angelina had at least enjoyed herself. The new one went on easily enough, and I smoothed down the thick stripes of navy blue and white, giving my bedroom a somewhat beachy vibe.

I scrubbed hard at myself with the sea sponge, desperate to get every last trace of Angelina off me. I was almost rabbit-punching at my face with my toothbrush, ignoring the pain of my lip while scouring every nook and cranny of my mouth. My dark hair shone in the mirror, and another misting of Armani finished the job. With the towels replaced, I threw on a black button-up shirt and rolled the sleeves to just below my elbows.

The intercom buzzed twice out in the living room before I had finished getting dressed. I snatched up a pair of tan cargos and skipped out to answer it.

"Hey, it's Donna," she sang when I answered.

"Hey," I smiled back, already hopeful from the friendly tone of her voice. "Come on up, top floor."

I clumsily hopped into my pants and wrestled to get the button through the hole. Holding the door open, I stepped out onto the landing and looked down at the other one half a flight below me. The worn charcoal carpet was starkly illuminated by the overhead fluorescent lighting in the stairwell.

The beat of Donna's footsteps changed as she climbed the stairs from the level below. Her scruffy, bleach-blonde mop came into view first, hanging just above her bare shoulders. As more of her rose above the banister, I could see she was poured into a white, strapless evening gown. As she turned on the landing below me, her tanned, slender leg protruded from the split in her dress that ran halfway up her thigh.

"Hey," she beamed up at me, her big, blue eyes twinkling. She stopped a moment, framed by the full length window behind her and the contrasting darkness of night it held back. She tilted her head, and her lips pressed together in a crooked smile. "Your fly's undone."

I closed my eyes against the burn in my cheeks and sighed. Leaning back against the spring loaded door, I quickly zipped up under the sound of Donna's approaching giggle.

"Smooth," she grinned on her arrival to the top of the stairs. She floated over to me with her hand extended. "I'm Donna. It's lovely to meet you."

I introduced myself as I took her hand. She sandwiched mine between hers and used me as a lever to pull herself in, craning up and planting a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth. Her pink lips spread into a warm smile beneath those sparkling, blue eyes.

Then her brow furrowed as she sucked air in through puckered lips. "Ooo, what happened?" She very gently put her hand up to the side of my face and gingerly traced my swollen cheekbone with the pad of her thumb. Then trailing down, she lightly caressed my bottom lip with her index and middle fingers.

"Tough day at the office," I breathed as I ushered Donna inside my apartment. I was impressed. She had only known me thirty seconds, and she had already shown me more attention than Angelina had in an entire hour.

"What do you do?" she frowned, concerned.

"I'm in the Army."

"Oh." Her face immediately softened and her smile returned. She was obviously satisfied I wasn't some dangerous thug.

When I offered her a drink, she opted for a beer, and called back to base while I poured out a couple of glasses.

With the clock started, she took one of the beers from me and held it up. "To new friends."

"To new friends," I smiled back at her, clinking my glass against hers.

We held each other's gaze as we drank. When I lowered my glass, Donna wrinkled her nose. Placing her drink on the kitchen bench, she stepped over, pressing her lithe form against me, then wiped the foam from my top lip with her finger. I was transfixed as she seductively sucked her finger into her mouth, then licked her lips.

I nearly dropped my beer.

Her eyes twinkled and her smile turned playful. She reached up again, this time touching her finger underneath my chin and pushing my mouth closed, making us both laugh.

"Would you like to get everything sorted out so we can relax and get to know each other?"

"Great idea," I smiled, reaching into my pocket for my Mastercard. Then I realised it was still in my jeans in the dirty clothes basket. Blushing, I bounded down the hall to retrieve it. When I returned, I saw that Donna was holding a flimsy carbon copy slip, the kind used in old fashioned imprint machines. "No EFTPOS?"

"I'm old school," she smiled. "I'm really sorry, but do you have a pen?" She picked up her beer and followed me down to the study.

I grabbed a pen from the desk and turned to see her surveying the group of three framed photos on the opposite wall. The one on the left was an overhead shot of my patrol in a rigid inflatable boat, pulling alongside a submarine. The middle frame was a patrol photo from East Timor, with the six of us in khaki camouflage and weapons, posing in front of a Blackhawk helicopter. And the last one was Fang and I in our black fire suits on top of the Olympic stadium a few hours before the Opening Ceremony, and my moment of truth.