Divine Job Benefits Ch. 03

Tags up front: Aphrodite, goddess, magic, fantasy, enhancement, airport sex, strip club, stripper, love at first fuck, lingerie, lapdance, oral.

*****

Her name was Eleni, and she was beautiful. Scott figured this stunning, charming woman had to be a model, or perhaps an actress, but he couldn't know for sure. He didn't speak French and she spoke almost no English. They were barely sure of one another's names. Yet for a little over an hour, spent together in Heathrow Airport, they were wildly, passionately in love...or at least deeply in lust.

Their courtship amounted to only some looks in the lounge that went from shy to coy to sultry and flirtatious. The few words they managed were stumbling, but all taken in good humor. They spent most of their short relationship fucking with abandon in a small but clean and comfortable restroom in an airline club lounge at Heathrow Airport. Eleni sat on the bathroom counter, her skirt and panties laid aside nearby, with her legs spread wide to receive Scott as he impaled her endlessly.

Sometimes they kissed. Other times, they simply looked at one another in wonder and communicated in gasps and moans and through touch. Midway through their entirely physical romance, Eleni leaned back against the mirror and opened up her shirt to let him feast his eyes upon the rest of her dark brown body. She received his lustful gaze and the caress of his hands with a confidence that transcended language.

He couldn't truly know how good he made her feel beyond the obvious. Despite all the compliments and comments she received about her beauty, Eleni didn't actually think of herself as all that special. With Scott, she felt differently. She'd only "met" him in the airport, and they shared almost no words, but she trusted him, adored him, and welcomed everything about him. She felt safe with him. She came for him twice.

A third climax came on as she heard his voice waver and saw his eyes tremble. It brought out the same reaction in her. Their approaching orgasm left them both weak and helpless to shared need. Scott fucked her even harder, just as she wanted to ask him but could not because her mouth couldn't form the words. She felt every burst of his cock inside her—not a common thing in her experience—and the first set her off. Eleni whimpered in pleasure and in gratitude as her body shook and her pussy tightened around him. Scott slammed into her one last time and then held her tightly as he came inside her.

Eventually, her reactions subsided. She trailed soothing kisses down his neck as he stroked her hair. They eased back from their climax, kissed deeply, and then offered one another smiles that were good humored and no longer shy. "Thank you," he whispered to her, just as she said, "Merci."

He let her down off the counter. She turned to gather her clothes while he stepped away, pulling his pants up from around his ankles and sorting himself out. He realized that he might want to clean himself up just a bit before securing everything again. Already way ahead of him on that score, Eleni handed him one of the towels—terrycloth in here, reminding him what a high-class place this lounge was—and almost turned back to her own concerns, but then she stopped again.

"Scott," she said, putting her hand on his chest. He looked up, blinking. She pushed him against the wall, knelt, and said, "Merci" again before taking his cock into her mouth. Scott gasped and watched in bliss as she sucked him off, looking up at him as she worked him and conveying shameless, lustful gratitude. She even took the towel from his hand and rubbed it all around his groin, cleaning him off while she pleasured him. Despite his newfound stamina and confidence, she had him completely helpless until she finished. Then she rose and kissed him deeply.

She had her skirt on again before Scott could reciprocate. Somehow he knew that was her plan. She wanted to walk out of here with the score tilted. He blinked away his awe, buttoned up his pants again and replaced his shirt while she made quick use of the swanky bathroom's complimentary mouthwash, and then said her name one more time. "Eleni." He liked the sound of it.

She turned back, dressed and ready to go. Eleni smiled at him one more time, holding her small purse in her hand. From one of the exterior pockets, she pulled a glossy business card and handed it to him. He couldn't understand all the text, but he could read the phone numbers and figure out the rest. She gave him a shy shrug and said something in French. He figured it was either, "Learn a little French," or maybe, "Just in case," or perhaps, "You never know."

Scott wished he could reciprocate. He slipped the card into his pants pocket. Eleni reached back to the counter behind her to offer him one more kinky favor. She put her discarded lace panties in his hand, gave him one last passionate kiss, and then turned away. Scott all but swooned as she strutted out of the bathroom like a boss.

He waited before reaching for the door to give her a chance to get clear rather than letting people see them walk out together. When he opened up, he found a man there, perhaps a couple of decades older, who grunted out a "Pardon me," with an English accent before they slipped past one another. Scott heard a woman's voice in French, but it was over the PA system. He guessed it was the announcement of a flight that was boarding soon, and sure enough he saw Eleni—carrying a larger shoulder bag and accompanied by several men and women—as she left the bar. She threw a quick glance over her shoulder toward the restroom and saw him there, offering one last happy smile, and then she was gone.

"...flight 223 to New York will begin boarding in just a moment," announced a different voice. Scott knew exactly who he had to thank for his perfect timing. His carry-on bag sat behind the bar, thanks to a much less paranoid attitude about such things than in the States. As soon as he collected it and paid up his tab, he was off, and found himself in line for his flight as they called for first class passengers.

Breanne's "arrangements" to help him with his flight out had gone well beyond making sure the hotel gave him a ride straight to the airport. She'd somehow upgraded his seat to first class, put him on the guest list at the airline's lounge and even made sure he found a prepaid phone and a prepaid Visa card loaded with several thousand dollars at the hotel's front desk. Once he was on the jetway leading to the plane, he re-read the note she'd left with the front desk: "No, you can't give this back. You're not allowed. But you can text or email me when you get settled again. Wedding or no, I may not be done with you yet. -B"

That little plastic card would solve so many of his problems. Given his perpetually-scraping-by standard of living, a few thousand dollars could make an incredible difference. His first reaction was disbelief, and even a little guilt. Then he remembered what Aphrodite had said to him, and that quashed any further analysis of Breanne's generosity. It was help from a friend. He accepted what he was given, decided to be grateful for it, and looked forward to talking to her again.

Scott strode down the jetway and onto the plane, smiling at his good fortune and looking forward to going home. He had things to take care of there that might not be all that pleasant for anyone, but settling up with those who'd wronged him would only be a minor speed bump contrasted with the "job" he had now. He still had so many questions and even a few doubts, but so far things looked wonderful. Again, he resolved to accept what he'd been given. He even thought, noticing a lovely, smiling stewardess, that he might have to make a point of that before the flight was over...

...until he glanced through the open door of the washroom at the front of the plane. Seriously? Scott thought. I could barely fit in there all alone! What are bigger people supposed to do? Mile high club my ass! Sighing, Scott settled into his seat and smiled at the elderly man who took up the chair next to his. At least he'd had a mild workout before getting on the plane. He might even manage a nap before this was all over.

* * *

In the end, the flight left him with too much time to think. Scott's tryst with Eleni filled him with good vibes, but he discovered even that sort of boost could only last so long into a trans-Atlantic flight...and layovers...and the cross-country flight back to the west coast. Flying first class took off only so much of the edge of travel. Scott's brief nap put mental distance between himself and his flings, but concerns and worries stuck with him.

Every wish-fulfilment story he knew turned out to be all about hubris, or the harm of careless power, or some other morality warning. Aphrodite wanted him to cast his cares to the wind and have fun, but that didn't dispel life's lessons and the expectations of society. Even some things Scott knew were bullshit still weighed on him. He was only human. All he had from his new boss were the simplest instructions: enjoy yourself.

The break from playtime turned his mind to other things to worry about: Catching up in school, settling up with his attackers, dealing with the professor who'd hung him out to dry on the trip. He also had to give notice at his job, which felt like a huge leap of faith. Breanne's gifts fixed a lot of his short-term problems. The long term remained unclear. Aphrodite promised him a life of adventure and spoke of "solving problems with his cock," but still...even mythic heroes needed to pay their bills, didn't they?

He took a cab home from the airport. Buses and shuttles were probably cheaper, but Scott didn't care. He had the money, for now at least, and he was ready to call his trip done. The driver wasn't chatty. Not far from home, he saw a glowing sign off one side of the freeway that caught his eye, and his imagination...and more.

Enchantments. He'd heard it left other strip clubs in the dust. Scott had never been to any. He couldn't afford that sort of night out. He'd heard over and over most strippers didn't really like their customers, too, and given the sort of crap they dealt with he couldn't blame them if it was true. Scott had no problem with anyone choosing to make a living through sex—especially not now, after the "career" he'd just taken on. The amount of shit women got for sex work always annoyed the hell out of him as rank hypocrisy.

Surprisingly, he felt a bit sad when the bright sign drifted out of view.

The cab brought him home to the Boathouse. The house lay just off a major thoroughfare, where an open window could let in the sounds of the occasional drunks from the nearby bars stumbling home and arguing loudly into the night. Most of the neighborhood was families of parents with children. The Boathouse was occupied by a family of choice, all in their twenties.

The lights were on as he made it to the front step, though the door was locked. He pulled the spare key from its hiding place behind the porch light. He wasn't finished with the locks before someone on the other side threw the deadbolt for him.

"Ohmygosh, Scott!" said Heather. His tiny, pretty housemate stood in the doorway in only a robe. "I forgot when you were gonna be home. How are you feeling?"

"I'm good," said Scott. It came out as a sigh of relief as he came through the door, though in truth he wasn't all that tired. "It's good to be home."

He didn't have to wait for a hug. As soon as the door was shut and his bags were on the floor, her arms were around him. "I'm glad you're back, too. And I'm glad you're okay."

Scott returned the hug, suddenly feeling acutely aware of Heather's deeply tanned body. She was small, but voluptuous. She didn't have much on underneath that robe besides her underwear, either. He could feel her bra under the fabric. When she pulled back, the robe nearly parted as if to offer him a show. Heather had to know, but she seemed perfectly at ease. Maybe this was another of Aphrodite's gifts?

...then he felt the stirring of his urges and a stiffening at his groin and wondered if it was more than that. He reminded himself sharply that she was Jack's girlfriend. Jack. His other friend and housemate.

"How are you?" Scott asked. "Is anyone else home?"

"No, it's just me right now. Chinh scored some movie passes for tonight, but it's a scary flick so I opted out. Gotta be up early tomorrow anyway. I was about to crash. Everything else is the same old, same old. Can I help you with anything?"

"I'm fine, thanks. Just good to see you." Scott carried his bags to his small room. Inside he found everything where he'd left it: futon, garage sale table serving as a desk, and school surplus computer. Despite the urge to be done with his trip, Scott suddenly felt like he didn't want to be in that room at all tonight.

Turning back to the hall, he found Heather in her half-open robe and lingerie ensemble waiting for him with an innocent expression. Everything about her sparked hungry thoughts and fantasies he knew all too well he could turn to reality. God, he wanted to feel that white silk covering her pussy and her breasts. He wanted to hear her moan and feel her come for him, both because she was always so sweet and deserved the best...and just because he wanted it. Maybe being home at all was dangerous, too.

"I'd tell you the gossip you missed while you were gone, but there isn't much and I told you over the phone already," said Heather. "The party across the street the other night was okay but nothing to rave about. The only big news around here is what happened to you."

"That's the same score as the gossip. You already know it all unless you want a play-by-play," said Scott.

"I'm a little curious, but I wouldn't blame you if you don't want to talk about it. And don't let anyone pressure you, either. You don't owe anybody any explanations. Listen, I don't tell people this much, but I was assaulted once, too. Kinda don't feel like getting into it, but I've been there. Everybody deals with it how they deal with it. I'm here if you need me. No pressure."

"I know. Is it weird if I'm not shaken up?"

"Not really. It might sneak up on you later, but maybe not. It doesn't sound weird."

"...and is it weird if I really want to go out again?" he laughed. "Sorry, I slept through almost the entire plane ride. I'm not even tired. I kinda want to get out and move or be around people. Or maybe just get something to eat."

"OK, not being tired after that much flying is weird," she laughed. "I won't judge. I'd offer to go with you, but like I said I have an early shift tomorrow. And I'm kinda beat already. And Jack has the car."

"It's fine. Might be better on my own. Maybe I want to show myself I'm not afraid to go out."

He knew where he wanted to go. For once, he had plenty of money in his pocket. Money to burn, even. And instincts a goddess wanted him to trust.

Scott made his decision. He showered, put on slacks and a nice shirt, summoned a cab through the magic of the internet, and headed back out to that bright sign off the side of the freeway.

* * *

Inexperience had Scott looking up strip club advice on the internet before his ride arrived and on his way over. Much of it seemed like common sense: dress well, tip well, treat the performers like human beings, and understand that they're working. Some articles offered advice he found dodgy. Most seemed like common sense, except for how he hadn't thought of even doing this before now.

The bouncer at the door spotted him as a novice instantly. "The girls can touch you, but you do not touch them," he said, two-hundred-fifty pounds of somewhat rounded muscle and tattoos. If the man grew up with an accent, it was long gone. Loud music and other expected noises floated in from around the corner. "Nothing more than their hands or wrists, anyway, and no grabbing. We have a two-drink minimum, but don't get sloppy or you're done."

"Understood." On impulse, Scott followed the advice he read: He offered a handshake with a twenty folded in the palm of his hand. Then he hoped the bouncer wouldn't think he was bribing him to look the other way while he groped someone.

The bouncer held onto his hand for a moment more, stared at Scott for a second, and then leaned in. "We've got some popular girls here tonight. Might want to make sure you're on the floor around ten." He threw a look over his shoulder as he released Scott's hand. "Hey, Claire, can you get this guy a table? It's his first time."

The hostess, just coming back from around the corner, smiled brightly as she saw Scott. She was short, dark-haired and pretty, wearing a silver cocktail dress. "Sure! Right this way," she said, taking Scott's hand and leading him inside.

The dim entry hall gave way to shadows and flashing lights of the comfortable main room. Two women performed on stage, one of them pole-dancing at the center and the other on her knees swaying and gyrating for the enjoyment of men with seats at the foot of the stage. The woman at the front of the stage was down to nothing but stockings while the pole-dancer still had on a g-string and a lacy bra. As much as he wanted to feast his eyes on the two women, Scott didn't forget his guide.

"Do you know Damonte?" Claire asked. She gave him a flirty look up and down.

"Who? Oh, the bouncer? No."

"You must've made a good impression. He doesn't normally ask us to take care of anyone. Here you go." She brought him to a couch seat all his own. "If anyone asks, you had this reserved." Claire sauntered off with a wink, leaving Scott to enjoy the spectacle.

Music played, bass thumped, and lights flashed. Women danced and men cheered. Scott saw a handful of women in the audience, too, but all seemed to be with one guy or another. He ordered his first drink and sat back to soak in the atmosphere.

Nothing surprised him more than his sense of comfort. He was alone, inexperienced, a little shy, and not even sure how he felt about the whole premise of strip clubs...until now. But he felt comfortable. At ease. The energy of the club felt entirely positive. Strangely enough, despite all the noise and unfamiliarity and even some loud and brash men in the crowd, he felt safe.

He quickly realized he had one of the best seats in the house. He had a direct view of the stage, the waitresses came by frequently, and his couch had just enough of a curve to create the illusion of a barrier. Occasionally, new patrons passed by looking for seats, but not one of them asked if they could join him. The only company he ever had was from the waitresses and the dancers. Every one of them was flirty and friendly, too. Scott passed on offers of shoulder rubs and private dances to make sure he'd see the stage at ten as advised, but he tipped freely.

Lights dimmed and the speakers picked up with steady, ominous music. The shift seemed to herald something special. Scott realized it was ten o'clock. Apparently it was time for a main event. "Awright, people, let's kick this party up a couple notches," boomed the DJ's voice. Scott cringed, feeling like his announcing was generally overdone, but the guy played good music and he didn't talk long. Even so, this was a bit much. "You know why you're here. You know who you came to see. Give it up for...Misty!"

Red lights rose. Scott's hard thumped hard in his chest. "Holy fuck," he gasped under the thump of bass and the sinful riff of guitars.

She strutted out onto the stage in a black fishnet mini-dress over a lacy red bra and panties. Her first moves gave a preview of her assets: smooth skin across hard-bodied beauty decorated with tattoos, full, luscious breasts, a big and beautiful ass, and long black hair cascading down from the top and back of her head with the sides shaved down tight. Her face set his heart pounding. Her name suggested something soft and so did that skin, but everything else about her was hard rock and fire. She was gorgeous. Confident. Sexual.