Diary of a High Price Escort Ch. 26

The Uber ride to my place gave me time to reflect on the events of last night and, more importantly, this morning. Mitch was sincere about wanting an exclusive arrangement with me, and to be honest; I was sorry to disappoint him. I knew deep down that becoming his kept woman wouldn't last. Sooner or later, he'd either resign his position on Johnston's staff or reconcile with his estranged wife leaving me alone and without the advantage of being one of Daddy's top earners.

I had made the right choice; not only would I be able to grow my nest egg, but I'd continue to satisfy my cravings for a variety of men in my life. I paid the Uber driver with a couple of crisp "C" notes and slipped out of his sedan curbside at my condo. It was a gray, gloomy day, with a wintery nip in the air. Once safely inside, I changed into a pair of loose-fitting sweats and a baggy sleeveless cotton tee shirt, planning a relaxing Sunday in my new home.

Starting my laptop, I wanted to send my report to Daddy, but I spent a little time shopping for a better desk and office chair before logging into my email. I found something I liked online, but some assembly was required even though it included free delivery. I'm sure I could talk Dick Stark into the task of assembling the desk and chair, but at this point, I didn't want to give my lustful neighbor any reason to expect me to return the favor. I found the same desk at a local office supply store for a few dollars more and noted its location.

After refilling my coffee mug, I logged onto my calendar, filled in the financial information about my Saturday night appointment, and marked myself as available for the next seven days. Next, I composed an email to Daddy, explaining that my night with Mitch had been delightful for the client and me. I reported that the client had offered me an exclusive arrangement but that I had rejected his offer. I also asked Daddy not to schedule me for any appointments in the near future with any other political clients. I clicked send, but rather than logging off; I minimized the program.

Glancing out the window, I was surprised to see a light snow falling, having already coated the trees and shrubs with a layer of white. I didn't have a snow shovel, so I hoped this early winter storm wouldn't amount to anything serious.

I putzed around the apartment for the remainder of the morning, often checking on how much snow had fallen. In the past, my car would have been safely tucked away in the garage, but now my shiny red SUV was collecting a coating of snow. "Fuck," I remarked, knowing I didn't have a snow brush or even a broom to clear the icy layer from my car.

I decided to venture outside to see how deep the snow had become. Slipping on a pair of sneakers, I donned my fluffy white ski jacket and a ball cap and headed downstairs. Stepping outside, I was happy to find that the snow wasn't accumulating on the walkways as much as the landscaping, but if it continued all day, Monday morning could be pretty messy. As I approached the sidewalk, I was greeted by Dick Stark, who was already sweeping the snow off our common walk.

"Angel, so nice to see you," he said, stopping his work.

"Hiya Dick," I answered.

As he started sweeping again, he said, "I like to stay ahead of the snow keep it clear before it gets too deep."

I glanced toward my SUV, which already had an inch or two of snow piled up on it. "I'm a little unprepared for winter weather. I don't have a broom or a snow brush to clean my car," I remarked.

He grinned at me and replied, "I can take care of the walkway, and if it continues, I'd be happy to clear your car in the morning."

"You're too kind, Dick," I answered.

He paused again and leaned on his broom, "The association maintenance department does a great job plowing the streets; they plow one side and then give us all a chance to move our cars before coming around again to plow the other," Dick explained.

"That's good to know; I've never had to shovel out my car before," I said.

"You just have to listen for the plows and then get out and move your car," he added.

I kept him company as he quickly swept the narrow walkway to my door, and as he finished, I thought about inviting him in for a cup of coffee but decided against that and instead said, "Thank you so much, Dick." I tried to give him a friendly hug, but Mr. Stark wanted more and wrapped his arms around me and hugged me firmly, making sure to press his body against my chest.

"Be seeing you soon, Angel," he said as he started for the front of the building.

As I closed my door, I thought to myself, "Not too soon, Dick." I've been around enough dicks to recognize the telltale signs of lust in his voice, and his tight hug pretty much confirmed that at some point in the future, he'd be making a serious play to get in my pants.

By mid-afternoon, the snow lightened up with just a few flakes still falling from the grey sky. I decided to check my email, knowing I'd not have to deal with a wintery mess Monday morning.

My inbox contained two emails, both from Daddy. I opened the oldest; first, he wrote, "Angel, thank you so much for your report on the Saturday night appointment. I'm glad to hear that the client was satisfied with your service, which is normal with every one of your clients. I very much appreciate you informing me of his offer of exclusivity, and I'm happy that you rejected his offer. I've lost more than a few employees to this kind of offer in the past. Your loyalty to the company is duly noted. As requested, I'll refrain from scheduling appointments involving any of the swamp rats inside the beltway in the future. Thanks again, Daddy."

I smiled to myself, knowing that once again I scored points with my boss.

Daddy's second email was about an appointment. "Angel, I've received a request for an appointment tomorrow evening. The client hosts a high-stakes card game on Monday evenings and needs a classy lady to serve as a bartender for his guests. These gentlemen would certainly be considered high rollers. While the client is ultimately responsible for payment, I'm sure his guests would be very appreciative of a sophisticated mixologist. Since you've already indicated your availability, I've taken the liberty of scheduling you for this appointment. You are to arrive at his place by eight. The address is 137 Oak Ridge Lane, Winchester. The client has made no request for your attire, so I'll let you decide what is appropriate. Daddy."

While my experience with mixing drinks is somewhat limited, I was reasonably confident I could handle most of what these card players would request, and I replied to Daddy confirming I'd be happy to take this appointment.

After having a bite to eat, I decided to again check the weather before sunset and found that most of the snow had already melted off my car. I'd be good to go for Monday evening. I decided to spend my Sunday evening pampering myself with a relaxing bubble bath, adding a splash of moisturizing oil to my favorite strawberry bubble mix. While the tub filled, I gathered some candles, poured myself a glass of chardonnay, and laid out a satin pajama set. With a candle at each corner of my soaking tub and my wine placed where I could easily reach it, I dimmed the bathroom lights, slipped out of my sweats and cotton tee shirt, and stepped into the tub. As I settled into the bubbly water, I reached out and turned the spigot off. My body was surrounded by relaxing warmth, the soothing oil and strawberry scent helping me enjoy the soak. As the light of day diminished, my bathroom sparkled with the light of my candles, and I started soothing my body with my hands. Beneath the froth of bubbles, my hands moved over every part of my legs and then moved up to softly caress my flat stomach, finally reaching my big soft tits. My nipples reacted and grew taut, reminding me of the bubble bath Mitch, and I had shared in Cancun. With his gentle caresses and solid cock in mind, I lowered my hands to my loins, beginning with my clit, which I slowly caressed. His memory turned me on, and as I dipped a couple of fingers between my smooth labia recalling the sensation of having his rock-hard cock penetrate me. I closed my eyes and began fingering myself with more force, thinking but not saying his name. As my breath grew shallower and my fingers moved faster, I quickly brought myself to a self-induced orgasm, leaving me panting and quivering in ecstasy. As I recovered, relaxing in that warm, soothing soak, I wondered how long it would take for his memory to fade, replaced by new memories of another man's strong, vibrant cock.

I stepped out of the tub, patted myself dry and slipped into my satin pajama set, blew out the candles, and then curled up in bed feeling smooth and fresh. I closed my eyes, imagining being with several high rollers tomorrow night.

As gray and gloomy Sunday had been, Monday dawned bright and sunny, quickly melting away the coating of snow from the trees and shrubs. I brewed a pot of coffee and made a couple of pieces of toast. I was already contemplating the appropriate attire for my appointment that night.

Perhaps something akin to a French maids costume with frilly layers on a short skirt, and a tight form-fitting top to accent my big tits and deep cleavage would give the players something to contemplate other than their cards. An outfit this tempting could be taken as an invitation for them to play me instead of poker. My instructions from Daddy were to handle their drinks, not their cocks, at least for the beginning of the evening. Something less suggestive but still alluring was called for. What I needed was a dress that gave the appearance of a demure, modest, and even shy woman initially but could be adjusted as the evening passed to reveal more and represent a more aggressive, shameless personality. To contrast my long blonde locks and milky white skin, I knew that black would be the color of the night. As I flipped through the black dresses in my closet, I came upon a clingy wrap-around number that I recall fitting my form perfectly.

"Let's see how this looks," I thought as I slipped out of my satin pajamas and removed the dress from the hanger.

The fabric felt luxurious against my naked flesh and concealed my tits while revealing only a hint of soft cleavage when tied tightly around my waist. It was the perfect length, stopping just above my knees, but when I stepped, the hemline parted to show off a little my thigh.

"Perfect," I thought, imagining a lacy bra, panties and garter clasped to dark silk stockings, and a pair of more modest three-inch heels. It was just what I'd thought about as appropriate for a group of high rollers.

This appointment was scheduled for eight o'clock, and to ensure my prompt arrival, I mapped out the route from my place to the client's home and noted the drive time as one hour and thirty-eight minutes. Daddy hadn't mentioned how many players would be attending. But I assumed a minimum of four which meant I'd not only be kept busy serving their drinks but might enjoy having all three of my holes filled with rock-hard cock later in the evening, an idea that served to build my anticipation as the time for me to begin preparations approached.

After showering, shaving my loins, and applying my favorite body lotion, I sat down at my make-up table. I already knew that I'd be wearing a ruby red shade of lip gloss, but other than that sexy color, the remainder of my make-up would be guided by my choice of black as the predominant color to give me a sultry appearance for the evening. I applied a light gray shade of eye shadow, adding a matching color to my eyebrows. I outlined my eyes with a darker, almost black eyeliner and finished with black mascara to enhance and lengthen my eyelashes. With my lips shimmering with ruby red lip gloss, I completed that part of my preparations.

Moving to my long blonde locks, I used my curling iron to form tight ringlets and then brushed them out to give my hair a wavy flowing appearance.

I love lacy black lingerie and chose a set that covered everything but still made me feel sexy. Every man appreciates silk hose, which often are ruined while having sex, and as I carefully guided my legs into my last pair, I made a mental note that I'd need to resupply my stocking drawer soon. I slipped on my shoes and moved to my full-length mirror to survey my appearance. Seductive came to mind, and I was confident that once I removed my dress, I'd be turning the assembled group of high rollers into rock-hard cunt hounds.

I tied my dress firmly around my waist and again checked the mirror to confirm my appearance was what I had planned, demure and modest. Placing my essentials in a purse with a long shoulder strap, I grabbed my coat, a long white winter overcoat that reached mid-calf. I could have wasted twenty minutes before I left but decided I would wait outside in my car if I arrived early. Traffic was light, and I arrived outside 137 Oak Ridge Lane a little before seven-thirty. The house, a modern two-story, had a three-car garage attached to one end. Since the driveway was empty, I assumed none of the players had arrived yet. About quarter of eight, I noticed the middle garage door open, and just as the vehicle backed out, a large black SUV pulled into the driveway. I watched as the driver of the SUV got out and leaned down at the passenger side door of the other vehicle. It was a relatively short conversation, and the car backed out of the driveway. I got a good look at the driver, a woman perhaps in her mid-fifties with rather short brunette hair. Apparently, she had no interest in her husband's Monday night card game and was off to amuse herself in other ways.

A moment later, a second car pulled into the driveway, a sporty little coupe that stopped next to the SUV. I watched as the driver exited the vehicle, but in the fading, light couldn't get a good look at him. I waited until he walked inside without knocking and then pulled my car in, parking on the opposite side of the first car.

I took a moment to check my make-up in the visor mirror and touched up my lip gloss before slipping out and walking toward the front door. I could hear the doorbell ring from inside and stepped back, waiting for a response. The porch light came on, and the door slowly opened.

"You must be Angel," the silver-haired gentleman said.

"I am, and you are?" I asked.

"I'm Hugh; this is my place," he replied, letting me know he was the client.

"Nice to meet you, Hugh," I answered as he stepped back and waved his hand, inviting me inside.

"Let me help you with your coat," Hugh said as I stepped past him.

I undid the belt of my coat and placed my purse on the floor beside me as Hugh slipped the coat off my shoulders.

"Oh my," he remarked as he got the first glimpse of my body.

Hugh placed my coat on one of the foyer chairs and moved around to stand before me. His broad smile reaffirming that he'd made an excellent choice to help host his Monday night card game.

I just smiled at him as his eyes roamed down over my body.

"My game room is downstairs," Hugh announced as he led me toward a door that opened toward the basement.

As we walked down the carpeted stairs, I wondered if the others would be Hugh's age, which I estimated to be mid-fifties.

His game room was expansive and included a shuffleboard, several pinball games, a full-size pool table, and of course, a lavish-looking card table. In one corner, there was a fully stocked bar with four stools. The two players that had already arrived were seated at the bar.

Hugh placed one hand in the small of my back as he said, "Let me introduce you to my friends."

The sound of his voice drew the attention of the two men, who both spun their seats to watch as Hugh and I walked across the game room.

I smiled and made sure to step sensually, giving them a look at my silk-covered legs.

"Guys, this is Angel; she'll be our hostess for the evening," Hugh announced.

They appeared to be similar to Hugh in age, and as we came to a stop in front of them, Hugh let his hand slide down and gave my ass a gentle squeeze.

I extended my hand toward one of them, and he instantly took it, saying, "I'm Jeffrey; it's a pleasure to meet you, Angel,"

"Likewise, Jeff," I answered as his firm grip enveloped my delicate hand.

I turned my attention to the other player and asked, "And you are?"

He slipped off his stool and answered, "I'm Wayne, and you are an angel."

Wayne was a tower of a man, standing well over six feet five inches, and as he extended his massive hand toward me, my thought was how large his cock would be.

As he shook my hand using a gentler grip than Jeff, he looked toward Hugh and remarked, "You've outdone yourself this month Hugh."

"I found a new service," Hugh answered.

"Let me freshen up your drinks, gentlemen," I said as I walked around the bar.

All eyes followed my movement as I settled in at my workstation.

"What would you like, Hugh," I asked.

"A lager, please," he replied.

I found the small underbar refrigerator well-stocked with several types of beer and retrieved a bottle of lager for Hugh. While pouring his brew into a twelve-ounce mug, I looked toward Wayne and asked, "What's your pleasure, Wayne?"

A devilish grin appeared on his lips as he answered, "That depends on your talents, Angel."

I didn't want to let on about my talents this early in the evening and answered, "I was speaking about your drink of choice."

"Bourbon neat," he said, still wearing his lustful smile.

I poured a couple of shots of Jim Beam into a tumbler and placed his drink on a cocktail napkin in front of him, and said in a sexy tone of voice, "You're easy."

I turned my attention to Jeffrey, who instantly said, "Scotch on the rocks."

Smiling at him, I filled the same size tumbler with ice and poured Johnnie Walker nearly to the top. "Enjoy," I said as I placed his drink in front of him.

I stepped back and leaned against the back bar providing all three an opportunity to survey my shapely form and silk-covered legs.

"When do the games begin?" I asked no one in particular.

"As soon as Frankie arrives," Hugh responded.

"I'm here, I'm here," a voice was heard from the stairway.

I instantly looked to the stairs at the fourth player, a thirty-something Italian-looking man wearing a gray three-piece suit and a darker silk shirt that was open at the neck. Frankie was clean-shaven and very handsome.

As he made his way toward the bar, Wayne said, "It's about time."

I just kept my eyes fixed on him and flashed a broad, friendly smile.

He took the one remaining bar stool and then asked, "And you are?"

I extended my delicate hand toward him and answered, "I'm Angel."

As he shook my hand, I asked, "What would you like?"

"I'll have a gin and tonic for starters," Frankie replied, then licked his lips to express his interest in having me later.

I mixed his drink, found a fresh lime in the refrigerator, and as I sliced the fruit, glanced at him and returned his signal by licking some lime juice from my fingertips.

Having sized up the group of high rollers, I could only think that my tip for the evening might be multiplied four-fold if I played my cards correctly.

"Angel, can we trust you to serve as banker?" Hugh asked.

"Of course, what are the stakes?" I answered.

"Buy-in is twenty thousand, our game is five-card draw, and additional chips are purchased in increments of ten thousand," Hugh explained.

"Okay, I understand," I replied.

"You'll find racks of chips in that cabinet," he said, pointing toward an upper cabinet above the back bar.

As I retrieved four racks of chips, I said, "Gentlemen, I'll collect your buy-in here and deliver your chips to the table."

Each of the players placed their cash on the bar, and since this was a friendly game, I saw no need to count their money.