F5: Bluetooth

F5: Bluetooth

(Author's note: This story is an entry into FAWC (Friendly Anonymous Writing Challenge), a collaborative competition among Lit authors. FAWC is not an official contest sponsored by Literotica, and there are no prizes given to the winner. Every story for this FAWC begins with the exact same line. Where it goes from there is up to the author.)

* * * *

Upon the table lay three items: a handkerchief, a book, and a knife...

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Gary dropped his tie in his open carry-all when he heard the brisk knock on the door. He flipped his lapels back down and went to answer, not bothering with the peephole or the security latch. Nobody was going to mug him in the MGM Grand and he was expecting the man who knocked.

Bruce was dwarfed by the doorway. Curly, mud-colored hair that was probably shockingly red when he was a kid, skin that never seemed to burn or even tan in the Nevada sun, plucked chicken legs sticking out from under his shorts -- Bruce. He'd been Gary's courier the last ten times he'd ordered from Fortitude and they'd struck up a cordial relationship, lubricated with generous tips.

"Mista James, Mista James, how you like that heat?" Bruce shook Gary's hand as he pushed past him into the room. They never talked business in the hallway. "Hot enough fer ya?"

"If I didn't want hot," Gary said, following him in, "I got on the wrong plane." Bruce had a black clipboard under one arm, which he always had, and a brown paper wrapped box, which was a first.

"Speakin' of hot," he placed the box on the foot of the bed, "looks like ya got the new one tonight. I ain't even seen one a these yet."

"Is that the book?"

"Huh?"

"Is that the book, from the e-mail? You know, 'Three items are on a table, a handkerchief, a knife, and a book?' That the book?"

"Nossir. This is somethin' diff'rent, but it is parta yer package. You wanna do th' necessaries now an' find out what part?" Bruce took a pen out of his pocket and held his clipboard up to read.

"Yeah, sure." Gary looked at the box. Something different? Before, Fortitude had always sent supplies for his fantasy scenes with the escorts. Once, when he'd needed a St. Andrew's cross, they sent it up with Bruce dressed as a hotel bellboy, the device folded up in parts under the skirt of a room service cart. Bruce began reading off the disclaimers on his clipboard.

"You unnerstan' yer participatin' in a Fortitude Ennertainment sensual adventure is voluntary an' agree you've updated yer Fortitude profile t' refleck any an' all changes in yer physical health?"

"Yes."

"You unnerstan' yer Fortitude Ennertainment sensual adventure has been callerbrated t' yer specific desires an' no services beyon' those which you've contracted to will be offered at this time?"

"Yes." The e-mail ad and description on the website had both been so vague that he didn't actually know what services he was contracting for, but this was just the red tape to get through before he got to have fun. There was a reason he paid the premium for Fortitude instead of just calling up one of the thousands of Craigslist hookers that worked the hotels of the Strip. Other than knowing he wasn't going to be knifed, they had some very inventive options. He thought about the most recent fantasy he'd added to his profile: going to the VIP room of a strip club with two strippers and ordering them to take turns fucking each other with a strap-on while he used their mouths and asses. Maybe a dildo and harness were in the box.

"You unnerstan' yer credit card will be billed th' full amount of four-thousan' an' nine hunnerd dollars an' this charge will appear as Eff Eee Industries?"

"Yes." At $4900, it was an upper-end package, but not the most expensive.

"You hereby remise an' release any an' all claims fer personal injury, pain, suffrin', an' wrongful death agains' Fortitude Ennertainment that may 'rise outta yer participatin' in this or any other sensual adventures?"

"Yes."

"Sign here, Mista James." Bruce ticked off the last box and handed him the clipboard and pen. Waiver signed, Gary picked up to box and tore at the paper.

Inside was a brand new smart phone and a Bluetooth headset. Gary's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Bruce laughed.

"Not what yer expectin', right?"

"I...no. No, it's not." Gary pulled the folded hundred dollar bill from his pocket and slipped it to the affable courier. "What the hell is this, phone sex? Come on, man, give me a hint. You've got to know what this means."

"Know you gotta cab waitin' downstairs t' take you t' yer nex step." Bruce walked towards the door, 'an' yer gonna get a phone call soon as I'm outta th' room. Better answer it." He dropped into the corporate goodbye before he got out the door. "Thank you again fer usin' Fortitude Ennertainment, sir, an' have a sensual adventure t'night."

The moment the door closed, the phone in the box chirped, cheerful and bland.

"Hello?"

"Gary James." It was not a question. The voice was throaty, resonant, and definitely female.

"Yes?"

"Are you wearing underwear?" Her voice was like molasses, dripping down his pants.

"Yeah," Gary said, groping for the flavor of this encounter. "Why, what are you wearing?"

"Nothing you'll ever see. Take off your underwear and put you pants back on."

"Why?" He was still searching for the hook. If a sexy but disembodied voice was going to order him through jerking off in his room, it wouldn't have cost him five thousand dollars. This had to just be the start.

"Because I instructed you to do so."

His hand went immediately to his belt to comply. It was difficult to get his pants and briefs off with the phone wedged between his shoulder and cheek. He hadn't had much experience with a woman ordering him around. It was starting to get exciting.

"I've got them off."

"Remove the Bluetooth earpiece from the box, turn it on, and place it in your ear." No argument.

"I've done it."

"Place the phone in your pocket. Leave your personal cell phone on the console table. Take your wallet and your room key," she purred in his ear. "Taxi four-seven-eight-seven is waiting downstairs to take you to your next location."

"Where am I going?"

"To the taxi stand."

"And after that?"

"To taxi four-seven-eight-seven."

"And after..."

"Stop speaking." The command in her tone and the unfamiliar feeling of his cock and balls loose in his khakis was giving him the start of an erection. The elevator chimed.

* * * *

The next stop in Gary's five thousand dollar sensual adventure turned out to be a grocery store well off the Strip, its light blazing into the dry black night in a squat, cheap imitation of the neon miles he left. The taxi let him out and drove off, the fare pre-paid.

"Go to the produce department." She had not said anything in his ear since he left his hotel room. He thought the lack of her liquid voice would make his erection drop from half-mast, but the mystery had excited him. He obeyed.

"I'm there."

"Select one bunch of carrots and a cucumber. Take pictures of both with the cell phone in your pocket."

A...what? Gary thought there had been a mistake, but he knew better now than to say it to the unsympathetic voice on the other end. He thought about all of the answers he'd given on the extensive questionnaires and descriptions of fantasies he'd added to his Fortitude profile. He'd never said anything about a vegetable fetish. He did remember adding a curiosity about using anal toys on himself, but he meant slim prostate probes made out of plastic or silicone.

He picked up a plastic bag of carrots, each one gnarled and thick as his thumb at the narrow end. He set it down and scanned for the better-looking, un-bagged bunches, grateful for the first time for his wife dragging him to the store so he knew such things existed. Along the side wall, he found a display of loose bunches, the wet, bright orange carrots looking far more inviting than the bagged ones. Better yet, they all tapered into a point at the end smaller than the tip of his pinkie. He grabbed a bunch and the slimmest, smoothest cucumber he could find, then snapped a picture.

"I've got the picture," he told the air, "where should I send it?"

"Don't bother. I already have it." That voice. The thought of her ordering him to open himself up with these improvised toys was starting to seem like a decent investment. She chuckled in his ear and his cock bucked against his fly. "You thought they were for you, didn't you?"

"Yes?" He was relieved that it sounded like they weren't, but he'd been getting used to the idea and found it enticing.

"No."

"What are they for, then?"

"For the brunette." The supermarket was nearly deserted at this hour and he was focused on his mission. He didn't notice the woman at the edge of the produce section until the voice told him to. She was a head shorter than him, dark brown hair in a high, girlish ponytail that contrasted with her professional suit and skirt. She wasn't fat so much as meaty, with broad shoulders and ribcage, muscular calves, ass like a small shelf. She wore light makeup accentuating full lips and round cheeks cushioning high cheekbones. No older than 35, maybe Hispanic. If she was an escort, she didn't look anything like the ones Fortitude sent him before and she didn't carry herself like one. She turned a mango over and over in her hands and her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

"Who is she?"

"Her name is Connie. She's a woman with a particular fantasy you're going to fulfill."

"Yeah?" Gary smiled. So that was the "sensual adventure." He got to feel what it was like to be an escort, ordered through how to please one woman by another. It was a new and unusual experience and that's what he'd wanted.

"She wants a businessman in his fifties with salt-and-pepper hair, not completely out of shape but not too trim, to approach her, take her to a hotel room, and seduce her. You will follow my specific instructions about this to the exact detail."

"Yes." He pushed at his hard-on, resettling it along the left leg of his pants. The few customers in the store were trawling the aisles of cans and boxes and the indifferent clerks were in a knot of gossip by the registers.

"You are erect." It wasn't a question, again.

"Yes."

"You will approach her from behind and place the carrots and cucumber you have selected in front of her, then grab her hair with one hand and lift the back of her skirt with the other."

"Then what?" He picked up his bunch of carrots and a much heftier cucumber than the one he had before.

"You will follow additional instructions."

Closer up, Connie was younger than he'd thought. She wore a Bluetooth earpiece as well. He could see her pearls over her collar and no panty lines on her ample ass. He put his produce down on the stack of mangoes in front of her. His cock jumped when she did, he held firm to her hair. She gasped when he pulled up her skirt.

"Feel her pussy, tell her how wet she is. Then tell her if she wants your cock, she has to get on her knees and taste it first."

Gary's observation had been correct -- she wasn't wearing anything under her suit skirt. He rubbed one ass cheek with the palm of his hand before squeezing it in his spread fingers. She looked around as much as she could with him holding tight to her hair and shifted her feet wider apart, leaning forward over the display and arching her back. Her ass pressed back against his erection and his hand had easier access between her moist thighs. She was shaved smooth, her inner lips full and protruding a half inch from her slit, hot as a radiator.

"Did your Bluetooth friend tell you to shave, too, or are you just a little slut like that all the time?" He asked, dragging the tip of his middle finger through her wetness.

"Follow instructions before you improvise," the voice in his ear commanded. The push-pull of being controlled and controlling at the same time made him hard as concrete against the girl's rump.

"You're so wet," Gary whispered in Connie's ear, the one without the earpiece. "I bet I could shove this cucumber in you right now."

"Good," his Bluetooth encouraged, "continue."

"You want my cock?" He whispered. She nodded and turned her face just enough for him to see the need in one dark eye. He pushed his middle finger inside her to the last knuckle, feeling the ridges inside her like Braille. "Then you'll have to get on your knees and taste it first, won't you?" He released his hold on her hair. She scanned the near aisles for anyone who could see them, then crouched behind the mango display.

Without underwear to impede it, his cock sprang free from his fly as soon as she unzipped him. She wasted no time with teasing or licking, just sucked in the head of his cock and half his length and began working her tongue against the bottom. He planted his feet and kept lookout for anyone who might see them, but the store was dead.

"Tell her to take you back to her hotel so you can make her eat her vegetables."

He put both hands over Connie's ears as if guiding her to suck him deeper then asked, softly, "Seriously?"

"It's her fantasy. You serve it up to her until I tell you not to." He picked up the cucumber and stroked the side of Connie's face with it. She had her lips down almost to his pubes and was rubbing and rolling her tongue against him like what he held was a gun.

"Get up, you slutty little cocksucker," he pulled out of her mouth. Purple traces of her lipstick were smeared along his shaft. "Take me back to your hotel. It's time I made you eat your vegetables." With effort, he tucked himself back into his pants and zipped. She stood and adjusted her skirt back down. No one had seen them.

"Tell her to buy the vegetables and meet you in the cab out front." He handed her the bunch of carrots and thick cucumber.

"Buy these. Then meet me in my cab." He reached into her suit jacket and gave one of her breasts a hard squeeze. Her nipple was stiff against his palm.

In the cab, he spread his legs wide and tried to think for anything but the hungry way Connie had taken him into her mouth or the voice at the other end of the phone, but his hard-on still fiercely tented his khakis. She joined him in the back seat and set the paper bag with her purchases between them.

"Suck on her nipples and masturbate her with one of the carrots. When she has an orgasm, take that one out, slide it into her ass, and put another carrot in her vagina." The voice in his ear sounded huskier. Gary liked the thought that he was turning the mystery woman on. Connie, listening to her own Bluetooth, pulled her skirt up over her hips and put one foot up on the seat between them, leaning back against the door. She opened her jacket and pulled her shirt over her generous tits. Gary helped the rest of the way by pulling the cups of her bra down under her cantaloupe-sized breasts. Her nipples were a lighter brown than he guessed, like coffee with cream. Her outer and inner lips darkened on a gradient down to milk chocolate. It looked fantastic against the scrubbed orange skin of the biggest carrot of the bunch as he pushed it inside her.

He sucked her right areola against his teeth, pulling the hard nipple into the half-inch gap between his upper and lower incisors. He grasped the carrot by its leafy top and hammered it into her, twisting his wrist and pinching her clit between his opposite thumb and forefinger. The carrot stopped, clamped tight by her muscles as she arched her back and grunted out her first orgasm of the night.

Gary pulled the vegetable from her and wasted no time following his instructions. He grabbed each of Connie's ankles and put them over his shoulders, dragging her across the seat until she was flat on her back. Leaning forward, he raised her hips enough to give him access to her ass. The carrot was hot from being inside her and well-lubed. He pressed it steadily against her brown pucker and it slid halfway in with ease. He let her adjust to the feeling, then sawed it in deeper until her anus swallowed the last bit of orange and only a green tail remained. She had her second orgasm from him putting the next carrot in her pussy. Before he could work on a third, the cab slowed and signaled a turn into a hotel parking lot.

"Leave the carrots inside her. Get her put back together and make her walk through the hotel lobby with you. She will take you up to her room." Gary scooped Connie's breasts back into the cups of her bra and yanked her blouse to her waist. She wriggled back to sitting while pulling her skirt down and gasped at the pressure of both vegetables rubbing the thin wall of muscle between her rectum and vagina.

No one spared them a glance in the lobby, just two more conference attendees in matching Bluetooth headsets who had too much of Sin City. Gary steadied Connie as they moved to the elevator, keeping her from dropping the paper bag full of produce twice. She led him down the hallway to a room and produced a key card from her jacket. The room was lit only by two lamps, one on the nightstand by the single queen-sized bed, the other on the console table next to the door. In the first round of yellow light, a large bottle of lube sat ready. In the second were two handkerchiefs, a leather folio, and a utility knife.

"Take the first handkerchief and use it to blindfold her," the voice in Gary's ear purred. He obeyed, shaking it out, folding it diagonally, and tying the ends securely behind Connie's head. He wondered what new games the woman on the other end of the phone would have him play with the three items on the table. They seemed important, he just didn't know why. "There is a stand for this phone attached to the wall. Place it in the stand and turn on the camera function. Then fully undress Connie and secure her to the bed on her back with the rope ties that are already there."

He did everything exactly as asked, his aching erection returning. When he finished the knots on Connie's wrists, he ensured they were not so tight they might cut off her circulation. Now that he had her fully naked, spread-armed, and undulating beneath him, he wanted to keep her comfortably tied so he could use her body all night. He squeezed her breasts and pulled at the nipples with his lips and teeth until she moaned and tossed her head from side to side. Gary realized she had not said a single word to him all night. Perhaps that was part of the fantasy or part of the instruction she was receiving in her own Bluetooth headset.

"Remove the carrot from her vagina. Use the lubricant provided on the cucumber, then insert it slowly inside her."

Gary pulled the cuke out of the bag, rattling the paper so Connie could hear what was coming next. Her toes clutched against the bedspread in anticipation. He poured a generous amount of lube on one clubbed end, then sat cross-legged on the bed between Connie's legs. As he removed the carrot, he teased her by swirling it inside her. Her clit, bright pink, poked aggressively from her brown folds. Once the carrot was out, Gary didn't know what to do with it. He couldn't hold it, and leaving it on the bedspread or tossing it on the floor seemed somehow improper. In a flash of inspiration, he covered it in lube and slid it slowly in next to the other carrot already lodged in her ass. Her moans edged on screams.