Mistress for a Day

"He wants me to do what??" My voice went up an octave or two.

"You know, Princess," Sly said with a grin, "open-mouthed disbelief is not your most attractive expression."

"Well excuuuse me for being human sometimes and not just a sex object." Much as I like and respect Sly, he can really annoy me sometimes. He's my agent, and he does a good job of finding interesting clients for me. But we grew up in very different worlds and that occasionally gets in the way of good communication. Oh yes, if it's not obvious, I sell sex. Or more precisely, Sly and I sell sex. We've been a team for several months now, ever since he blackmailed me into "putting out" (as he so delicately called it) to pay off my debt to him, as a result of which we both found that in spite of my lily-white middle-class Protestant background, I'm quite good at this stuff and surprisingly rather enjoyed it. He offered to partner up, and I took him up on it. It's been a fun ride ever since.

"Okay," Sly said in an annoyingly patronizing way, "I'll tell it to you simply. This guy wants to take you shopping."

"That's what I thought you said. I still don't get it."

"Yeah. To be honest, neither do I. But the money's good, and he checks out."

Sly was clearly puzzled by the arrangement. He's a big, tough guy, a product of the mean streets, and to him women are for sex, not for shopping.

"What he told me was that his wife died a couple of months ago and left him a real wad of cash. One reason the money was there was because she was a fuckin' tightwad. Now he's got the money and wants to spend it. He's seventy years old and doesn't want to wait around. He says he's always dreamed of wandering up and down Fifth Avenue with a beautiful young woman, his mistress, on his arm, going into the most elegant stores and buying jewelry and expensive clothes for her, impressing everyone, including himself.

"Like I said, it beats the hell out of me, but he's got the money and you're a beautiful young woman, so there."

"Hmm. I'll admit that the flattery helps," I said reluctantly. "So does the 'jewelry and expensive clothes' part. But still, no sex?"

"I didn't say that", Sly said. "But he didn't specify that as part of the deal."

"Seventy, you say? That's pushing it some, but I suppose it's not too old for sex. You sure he's not some old creep really looking for something kinky?"

"Jesus, Princess, will you stop looking in dark corners? I talked it out with the guy. I like him, and I think he's genuine. Trust me on this one, will you?"

"Okay. I yield to your better judgement of people. I'll do it."

"Princess, you're the best."

"I know."

That Saturday I took a taxi to Fifth Avenue and 49^th street as Jack, my client, had requested. Also as requested I had dressed in my most expensive stylish clothes, including heels. I wore my long blonde hair done up and kept the makeup discreet as I assumed a wealthy man's mistress would, keeping the good stuff for use in private, for him only.

It was a lovely sunny day in early autumn. The sun was warm, so I didn't need a coat. Jack was waiting in the shade of the Prada store. We recognized each other from Sly's descriptions. He was very good looking. Whatever his background, he knew how to dress the part of the well-to-do executive. He wore an expensive, clearly bespoke suit and light Burberry topcoat. Seventy he might be, but it was a well-taken care of seventy, with smooth skin and just a delightfully sophisticated touch of grey at the temples.

His eyes widened as I stepped out of the taxi, showing a goodly amount of leg as I did so. He stepped closer and said hopefully, "Victoria?"

I smiled. "And you must be Jack."

Now he really smiled.

"Oh God, you are beautiful," he said. "You're everything your agent said, and more. Just perfect."

Well, I admit, professional or not, I glowed.

Without asking, Jack paid the taxi driver. So far so good.

"You know why I picked this spot?" he said. "In the next few blocks are some of the most expensive stores in the world, with some of the most beautiful clothes and accessories money can buy. Beautiful as you are, I am going to thoroughly enjoy dressing you up in some of them."

"How can I say no?" I asked. "If I'm to be your mistress I'll have to look the part, won't I, to make you proud?"

"My mistress," he said musingly. "What a lovely thought. It's a dream. And you are perfect for the part. Okay, suppose we start here, with Prada. I would love to see your beautiful feet in appropriate shoes."

We entered the store. The doorman smiled and held the door for us. I knew damned well he'd been checking us out, his job being to keep out the common riffraff. The fact that he let us in said a lot. The obsequious way he did it said even more about his estimate of Jack's wealth. Obviously, the suit and the young woman on his arm helped.

The salesclerk, a very smartly dressed woman, came over to us. As is often the case in these very high-end stores, we were the only customers, and we could expect personal attention. She was every inch the professional and had quickly sized up the situation (not to mention a shrewd guess as to what Jack was worth). Her attention was directed to Jack, pretty much ignoring me.

"Good afternoon, sir. You would like something for the lady?"

Jack smiled. "Perhaps you should ask the lady?" he said, thus endearing himself to me. I just smiled and looked adoringly at Jack.

"You choose, love," I said.

Jack didn't miss a beat. "Perhaps a nice pair of black pumps dear?"

The clerk waited politely for my nod, and then led us over to the shoe section. She seated me and took off my shoes. She looked at my feet; no crass measuring stick here, and went and fetched a beautiful pair of black patent leather pumps with three-inch stiletto heels. She knew her male customers, alright. She put them on me. Oh my God, they felt so wonderful. So soft. They literally caressed my feet. Sensuous as hell.

"I love them, darling," I said.

"They make you look even more beautiful, were that possible," he said. The clerk just smiled. I could have decked her for what I knew she was thinking, but I just kept smiling like a well-behaved mistress.

"We'll take them. She'll wear them. Pitch the old ones." No questions about price. I suppose if you're in this store you don't ask.

I watched Jack as he paid. $1300. Oh my God! I was afraid to walk in them. But I managed, trouper that I am.

And so it went. Bergdorf for a $2,000 purse, Chanel for sunglasses. Tiffany's for a pearl necklace (I didn't dare even glance at the price for these last two; I'd've been afraid to wear them! JBU, I did look later: the sunglasses were $650. It's none of your business what the pearls went for.)

By the time we got to 57^th street I was walking on air (the Prada pumps actually made it feel that way!) I mean, what girl wouldn't want to be the center of attention, fawned over by obsequious salespeople, blithely choosing fabulous accessories and all the time being escorted by a handsome older man who is so proud to show her off?

Jack turned to me. "Vicki, darling, this has been a great experience for me. You are every inch a great mistress, even if in my fantasy. You've let me live a dream."

"Jack, love," I said, "You've been wonderful. You've made me feel every inch a valued and well-kept mistress. Trust me, this isn't only your fantasy we've been living. But now I want the fantasy to play out as it should. There's a four-star hotel just across the street. I want you to take me there."

He looked searchingly at me.

"You know, that was not part of the deal I made with your agent."

"I know that, and I don't care. We're going to do this up right, for both of us. A good mistress must always be aware of why she's so well taken care of. She needs to tend to her keeper. Now, no more argument. Get us a room."

Before he could raise any more objections, I took his hand and led him across the street and into the hotel. Good God, it was magnificent. A good part of me was daunted by its opulence, but Jack, bless him, rose to the occasion. He walked up to the desk as if fully expecting the four-star treatment we deserved. The clerk darted a quick and very professional look at Jack's suit and my Prada shoes and other new accessories and knew immediately not to ask about luggage. Without another glance he smiled and took Jack's credit card.

The room was magnificent, but neither of us was interested in the décor, just the bed. I led Jack over to it.

"Now," I said, "you just lie back and let your mistress do the rest. Remember, this is what you keep me for."

He smiled and let me take off his jacket and tie. I unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off, followed by his undershirt. I was pleased to see that for his age he was in really good shape. He clearly took care of himself. I pushed him back onto the bed and then unbuckled his belt, unzipped his fly and, with a little help from him, slipped off his shoes and pants. I eyed the bulge in his undershorts. Hmm. Not quite ready yet. A little nervous, maybe? Well, I am a professional, so that wouldn't be a problem.

I propped his head up on one of the many plush pillows so he could watch, and then did a very slow and sexy strip for him. Blouse first, then skirt. Then, slowly, bra. That left me in heels and stockings. Jack's eyes never left my body; they followed every move. I smiled, noticing the growing bulge tenting his shorts. As seductively as possible I wriggled out of my stockings and panties. By now his breath was coming faster.

I knelt down on the bed next to him and delicately stroked the bulge of his cock. The spot near the tip of his penis grew dark as his pre-cum soaked into the cloth. At my touch he drew in a breath sharply. His eyes closed and his head relaxed back into the pillow.

Very delicately now I slid his shorts down to expose his member. It was a nice one, smooth, with a lovely cap. I watched a drop of pre-cum rise out of the tip, glistening in the light.

I leaned down and breathed on the tip of his cock and then gently kissed its tip, tasting the salty discharge. He gasped.

He was fully erect, now, and with my fingers I delicately and teasingly traced the pulsing veins on the shaft of his cock. He was ready. To be honest, so was I. Arousing a man is heady stuff, if I'm saying anything profound. Anyway, I was pretty wet, and my breasts were full and my nipples were standing up, begging for attention.

I straddled him. "How'm I doing?" I asked coyly. "Think you might keep me a little longer?"

"Oh my God," he whispered. "I want you. I want you more than anything I've ever wanted."

"Good," I said quietly. "Now take me."

I grasped his penis and held it aimed properly while I lowered my pelvis onto him. The broad tip of his erection easily parted my pussy lips and his cock slid into me so easily, powerfully spreading my sensitive inner membranes as I lowered myself slowly onto him until our pelvises touched. He felt so good inside me, so warm and full, pulsing with life and the promise of rich semen.

Both of us were gasping, now, as I raised and lowered myself, thrilling to the movement of his cock in my deepest recesses. Impulsively I grasped his hands and put them squarely on my swollen breasts. My breath came quickly as I felt his palms caress my sensitive nipples. I moaned with pleasure.

I would have gone on like this all night, but I could feel his cock growing inside me, stiffening, swelling and throbbing, announcing his impending climax. My own body quickly responded to him with a familiar warmth and tension in my groin. My I tensed my perineal muscles to squeeze and massage his burgeoning cock. Almost spasmodically his hands flew to my hips and he impulsively pulled me hard down onto him, driving his cock deep into me, pressing against my cervix, holding me steady while he came. He gasped. He moaned. His eyes were open, unseeing. His head thrashed from side to side, and to both our intense pleasure, he came, hard.

"Oh! Oh! Oh God, Vicki, it's wonderful!! Take it! Take it all!! You are so beautiful!"

Oh Lord, it felt so good to have his hot sperm shooting forcefully from his embedded cock into my hypersensitive, welcoming womb. His ejaculations began as a few very quick bursts, as if to ensure his conquest of my treasures. His climax quickly thereafter settled into a steady series of gushes. I felt the warmth and internal pressure grow as he rapidly exhausted his pent-up load and his semen began to fill the dark recesses of my vagina and surround and lubricate his still-pulsating member.

I responded to his passion and came myself, moaning and gasping along with him. The walls of my vagina gripped his penis in a desperate hold. My clit swelled and throbbed, and I gushed all over him, my fluids mixing with his excess semen to soak him and the bed in a warm pool of our combined passion.

At last, we were done. For long seconds, neither of us dared to move. We held our positions, panting and laughing aloud with pleasure. Finally, I leaned forward and kissed him full on the lips and whispered in his ear, "Thank you, Jack," and then rolled off him onto my back and lay there breathing deeply.

He rolled over and propped himself up on one elbow. He gave me a long and searching look. "Vicki," he said at last, "that was the most glorious experience of my life, and a wonderful and truly unexpected way to cap off the best day I've ever had. I can never thank you enough for what you did for me today. I've lived a fantasy, and loved every minute of it, including this marvelous surprise. Your agent is going to find a very large check tomorrow. But no matter how much it is, it will never be enough to match my gratitude to you for today."

"Jack," I said, "I certainly appreciate and welcome your check. But that aside, I've had a great day with you. Trust me, if I were ever to really become someone's mistress, you'd make a great keeper."

God, I love this job!

And I could hardly wait to see Sly's expression tomorrow.

One question still bothered me, though. Where (and when) the hell was I going to be able to wear all my new stuff without raising some awkward questions I'd be very hard put to answer?