No One Rides for Free Ch. 10

Veronica was working at Hitch headquarters. She was at her white plexiglass desk, reviewing the mountains of data that dynamic pricing was beginning to generate. She wore her hair up, and had a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose. She was contemplating having someone come in and eat her pussy, just as a way of demonstrating that she was part of the team.

(An aside, for clarity: I didn't know Veronica well at this point. I had met her in the assessment booth at the mall, but we didn't get acquainted. For her, it was one of several events she did in numerous cities across the country. For me, as I've mentioned, the event was overshadowed by Raheem's surprise appearance. I got to know Veronica much better later on. I am taking a bit of artistic liberty by assuming that the following events took place while I was in Mexico.)

The neighbouring office to Veronica's was Chet's, and there was a glass wall between the two offices. Veronica always saw when Chet was getting laid by one of the office sluts. Today, he had a skinny twink sucking his cock while he talked on the phone.

A phone call came in. "Hi Veronica, it's Paul from Global assessment and scoring." The voice on the other end was reedy and slightly nasal. "Do you have time to help me out with something?"

"Hi Paul, I know what this is about. You're going to say my scores from my coast-to-coast trip are not in line with the other assessment teams."

"No. I mean... yes, they are. I mean, they aren't in line with... but that's not why I'm calling."

The twink was on his knees in between the glass wall and Chet's desk. Chet was letting the slut take his time, gradually taking more and more of Chet's shaft down his throat.

"We should have a meeting to discuss this, Paul. I think the scoring that other assessments are arriving at are too high. I'm looking at the dollar figures here, and I think my scores are correct." Veronica started clicking madly. "I have a few spreadsheets here, let me just call them up..."

Chet, patience exhausted, stood up from his desk and shoved the twink against the glass wall. It made a loud thumping noise in Veronica's office. Chet began licking the twink's asshole to get him ready. The twink's impressive shaved cock and balls were right in Veronica's line of sight, and the sensation of Chet's tongue on his ass was making him rock-hard.

"No need. The scores from assessments aren't really being tracked. The final scores will be generated by the algorithm. The initial score is really just seed data. It'll all come out in the end." Paul said breezily. "I wanted your help with something a bit more... um... personal."

Veronica's shoulders slumped. She turned away from her laptop. The twink on the other side of her glass wall was biting his lip as Chet's positioned his dick and then suddenly slammed it into his ass. "Personal?"

"It's my wife. I'm trying to... I think she would enjoy a tour of the office. Daryl keeps saying we should have our spouses come in, if they want to. But she's not sure how to... you know... get started."

"You want me to introduce your wife to some of the dick that's on offer in the office. Because I'm a woman." Veronica's voice betrayed a sense of exhaustion, which Paul did not seem to pick up on.

"Yes! Exactly. I know it's a big favour, but would you be willing?"

He was not her boss. She could say no, tell him he should show his own wife around. But Veronica was nothing if not a team player. It was simply good relationship management to say yes.

"Thank you so much," he said. "It's not just that you're a woman, by the way. I mean, I want a woman to show Deedee around, but I thought of you immediately. Not Sarah or any of the others; everyone says that you're one of the most enthusiastic participants among the women. So I knew you'd be able to teach her how to have a good time with the... well, you know."

Veronica tried to take it as a compliment. It was meant as one, she knew. He had called her 'enthusiastic.' What he meant was that she fucked almost as many of the office sluts as the men in the office did.

The company, like most tech startups, had an overwhelmingly male employee base. But Hinge had more of a culture problem than most tech companies did. After all, Daryl Pines had set up a company culture where he constantly had naked women under his desk, and the rest of the male staff had become accustomed to free access to a rotating population of naked and available bodies.

Most, like Chet, had found that men and women were equally useful if the goal was simply to dump a load of cum into something during a short work break. The well-hung twink whose cock was leaking pre-cum onto her wall now would never have guessed that Chet had been entirely straight before he started working at Hitch.

The handful of other women who worked at Htch, though, did not take as much advantage of the opportunities on offer. Sure, they would get a slut to give them a neck massage or a foot rub, but Veronica stood out because she was known to actually have sex at work quite regularly. It was one of the things that put her on the promotion track, and it made the men around her treat her like an equal.

Speaking of which, she thought, her eyes going back to the twink that Chet was still pounding. I haven't gotten railed in almost week. Too focused on my computer, and that's not how you get attention around here.

She stood up and looked over the twink's shoulder to make eye contact with Chet, who was on a phone call. She gestured, with an inquiring sort of facial expression. She elaborately mouthed the words "mind if I get under his dick while you're fucking him?"

Chet shook his head, with a small frown. He was saying something into the phone about how he was not satisfied with his wireless provider. He pointed at his wrist and mouthed "just two more minutes, let me finish."

Veronica sat back in her office chair and watched the twink's face. It was just as well that Chet was making her wait. She was nowhere near as wet as she needed to be.

She turned back to her computer and ran a database query on certain parameters. A whole spreadsheet began to populate, displaying men from around the world, aged eighteen to thirty-five, all scored with a dollar ratio of at least $75/hour.

There were no pictures or identifying information, just a list of numbers and calculations. Cock size, erection reliability, muscle to fat ratio. The Hitch database had millions of people in it, and these nameless men were rising to the top of the list through the magic of economics and machine learning. Seven percent of them were blond. Fifteen percent were under 20.

As she knew it would, Veronica's pussy started to respond. This was her secret. Reports like this one were how she managed to be the most sexually aggressive woman at Hitch. There was something that really got her going when she thought about reducing men to nothing more than economic calculations.

The numbers worked like they always did, and she turned back to look at the twink as Chet sped up his pounding. Her practised eye began to roam over the twink's body. The fact that he takes it up the ass is a big value-add, that brings his assessment up. And his legs are worth money. Look at them; long and shapely, strong with a covering of blonde hair. I could sell someone those legs, no problem.

Of course, the twink wasn't in the database. One of the most closely-guarded secrets of the company was that most of the sluts around the Hitch office were paid by the hour, and did not have Hitch cards. If the corporate office sourced its sluts only from people who shopped at the flagship store, there would be nowhere near enough.

Veronica tried to avoid thinking about the fact that Hinge was in trouble. She tried to forget that Daryl Pines had been funnelling venture capital money into a small army of sex workers for months to create the illusion that Hitch was more popular than it actually was. She turned back to her list of $75/hour sluts. Each of them was out there somewhere, being bent over just like the twink next door.

Chet moaned while pressing the twink's chest into the glass. The twink's eyes widened, and then Chet pulled out and did up his chinos. Veronica waved at the twink through the glass so that he would come into her office. Her pussy was wet now, she knew. His dick was going to be able to slide right in.

And when she came with that cock inside her, she'd get back to work. Back to her numbers.

* * *

Paul's wife Deedee arrived in the afternoon. Veronica almost laughed. She thought about Paul's disorderly appearance and his balding flop-sweat-glistening pate. This goddess standing in Veronica's office was definitely not with Paul out of love.

Deedee had clearly been a model (or perhaps a stripper) before she married Paul. Paul was a founder at Hitch, and had plenty of stock options. With all the hype the company generated in the press, she probably thought she was going to be married to a millionaire.

Not if the algorithm doesn't do its job soon. If there wasn't another shot of venture capital money in the next few months, Paul was likely to be out of a job, which would mean he was single shortly afterwards. I need to stop thinking fatalistically. The company is fine. The fundamentals are secure. This gold-digger picked the right guy to seduce.

Veronica smiled and stood up to shake Deedee's hand. "Paul sure hit the jackpot meeting you,"

She wore a short pink form-fitting dress and had a white leather purse that matched her white platform heels. "What do you mean? Are you saying I'm out of his league?"

Apparently Veronica's attempt at flattery had missed the mark. "I'm a huge fan of Paul's," she said, shifting into the tone of voice she used with senior executives who needed their egos flattered. "I am sure that you are too."

"Oh, fuck off." Deedee said, "You're thinking that I'm a gold-digger and that he's a fool. And you're not wrong, at least not about the first part."

Veronica was speechless for a moment.

"Paul is lucky he can get his dick sucked at work. Have you seen him? I'm certainly not doing it."

"I guess, then, you wanted to sample the dicks we have around here? Since you aren't... I mean..."

Deedee was grinning from ear to ear. "Is that what Paul told you? That I'm trying to get laid by one of the office sluts? Some poor fuck who wanted to buy a painting downstairs and now has to spend some number of hours on his knees in my husband's office?"

So he hasn't told her that they're fake.Veronica thought, as she sat back down. She sighed, giving up on trying to be charming. "You know what, Deedee? I have no idea why you're here. Why don't you tell me?"

Deedee gestured towards one of the chairs in front of Veronica's desk. At Veronica's nod, she took a seat, taking a moment to tug the hem of her dress down after doing so. She breathed in and looked around. "I actually do like Paul," she said, almost as if she were confessing something. "He's been very good to me, and he expects so little in return. It's kind of a dream arrangement."

"I like Paul too, he's a good data analyst."

"He is?" She looked down for a second. Then she visibly relaxed. "He likes having me around, showing me off. And he knows that I don't want to fuck him. At first, I thought that the fact that I didn't want to fuck him would be a problem. But it isn't." She leaned forward, making sincere eye contact. "I mean, it really isn't a problem for him."

Was Paul trying to do more than 'show her off'? Perhaps that's what this is about. Veronica began assessing Deedee. Fake tits, but good ones. The makeup was trashy, but in a good way. Definitely more like a stripper than a model. Still, there were a lot of strippers in the database and they were all worth hundreds of dollars an hour to the algorithm. Deedee would be well into that range. Maybe $380/hour, she thought. "Let me guess: he wants you to come home to him, after being fucked by someone else."

"Yes. Exactly." She blushed a bit. "I used to think it was weird, but... I don't know. Maybe it's not?"

"It's not weird at all. It's our whole business. Let's get you set up with a Hitch card, then," Veronica said, reaching for her computer.

"What? No. I'm not getting one of those cards. Why would I? I have a rich husband." Deedee's posture was defensive again. She seemed offended. "I don't need to put my body on the line in order to score a pair of shoes."

What? What the fuck does this woman want from me? Veronica tried to adjust to this new twist. Did Paul send his wife to the office so that someone would convince her to get a card? That was a bit gross, Veronica thought. Team player, though.

"It's not just about money," she said, with calm conficence. "For lots of people, it's about the thrill. I've met rich women who make plans to use their card over and over again on a Saturday night, until their luck runs out and they end up on display in some store window."

She went on, shading some of the data shamelessly "We have a resort that we bought in Mexico, largely just to gather data on card usage. A lot of the people who go there are tapping their cards over and over again, just waiting to 'lose.' They could afford to go to any resort, but what they want is to get collared and fucked by strangers."

"That's not why I'm here," she said. "I... it's complicated. I want to do what Paul wants. I want to fuck someone. But I don't want it to be out of my control." She sighed, "He said that you fuck the guys who are here. The ones who are unlucky. He said that I should just come by and act like you do."

Veronica finally understood. Paul doesn't want her using a card. He wants her to use someone who used a card. But she doesn't want that. What am I supposed to do about that? I could show her one of my spreadsheets, but something tells me that it won't work for her the way it does for me.

Deedee was still talking, rambling a bit now. "There's something about it that's just... not sexy to me. I don't know how to explain it. I saw a guy on my way into your office. He was tall, and completely naked, with a nice face. If I saw him at a club, I'd probably let him take me home. I know I should just walk up to him and say:" She deepened her voice and frowned seriously "You! Slave! Come here and fuck me." There was something a bit ridiculous about it, and she smiled in a sort of desperate way.

Veronica couldn't help but chuckle at the image.

Deedee's face became almost wistful "I wish I were, like, a dominatrix. But I"m not."

"I understand," Veronica said. "You really are just a sweet girl, aren't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you need a bit of seduction. You like to be romanced a little."

Deedee considered Veronica's words. "Is that something that I can ask one of your office sluts to do?" She seemed to be considering it. "You, slave! Be nice to me and tell me I'm pretty!"

"No, of course not." Veronica began drumming her fingers on her desk. This was a puzzle, and she was good at puzzles. "You want to know that he's looking at you across the room, that he noticed how pretty you are."

"Yes, exactly."

She needs to feel wanted. Veronica had an idea. It was a bit risky, but she decided to give it a try. "You want him to come over to you because he's staring at the way that dress hugs your legs and he can't help himself but stare at your long legs and your slim little waist." Veronica's voice had gotten soft and quiet.

"Um, yes..." Deedee was a bit unsettled by the change in tone.

"Which guy was it," Veronica asked, staring over her reading glasses at Deedee. "The tall one who you noticed. Give me a bit more detail." Her voice was still soft and a little breathy.

"I think," Deedee was confused by the change in tone, but the question seemed perfectly normal. "I think he was Latino? He had black hair, short and kind of gelled. He was standing beside the reception desk."

Veronica closed her laptop so that she could get a better look down the plunging neckline of Deedee's dress. She made no effort to pretend she wasn't ogling the younger woman.

"I... I'm not really into girls."

"I know, sweetheart. But what am I supposed to do? You come in here, wearing that tight dress..." Veronica picked up her phone and dialed reception. Her voice went to a crisp and professional tone. "Do you have a Latin man by your desk? Yes, yes that sounds right." She was still staring at Deedee. She gestured for Deedee to stand up, and the gold-digger did so hesitatingly. "Send him into my office, please."

Deedee was deeply confused, but was reacting to Veronica's tone and attitude. "I..." she trailed off.

"You need a bit of romance. And you need to get fucked. But those two things don't have to come from the same person." Veronica was staring deep into Deedee's eyes. "You're a show-off and a bit of a tease. And I think you like that I'm noticing it."

Deedee looked down at the floor bashfully for a moment, then back up into Veronica's eyes. "Maybe a little," she said smiling.

"Do you want to tease me, Deedee? Do you want to show me what that sleek young body of yours looks like? I'll stay here in my chair. I won't touch you."

Deedee's hand came up to her face as if automatically, one finger into the corner of her mouth, which she left languidly open. "Um..." The door opened behind her and a tall naked dark-haired man stepped in, and stayed there standing silently with his hands behind his back.

"Use that," Veronica said, gesturing towards the man. "Use it to tease me."

As Deedee turned around and looked at the man, her finger was still pulling on her lower lip. She gasped slightly, and looked back at Veronica. Veronica nodded slightly, a signal that meant permission, or encouragement, or whatever it was that Deedee needed.

This is how we start solving Hitch's main problem, Veronica was thinking. The problem of demand. We have a mismatch of supply and demand. Too many men want to use the Hitch card, and too few women will take advantage of them when they do.

Deedee's eyes kept going back and forth from the stationary man to Veronica. She awkwardly touched her breasts through the stretch fabric of her absurd pink tube dress. It wasn't much, but it was something. Her nipples stood out as she clumsily pawed at herself.

It's no surprise, really. Men have spent their lives being encouraged to grab what they want. Women have spent their lives being looked at and admired, and most of them never learned how to actively pursue something.

"You're such a hot little thing, aren't you?" Veronica said softly. "All I want to do is stare at you. I love the way your body looks up against his. He's so big and strong, and you're so soft and sweet. That's right, lean back against him while you look at me. Run your delicate little hand up his thick powerful thigh."

Our long-term goal as a company must be to change the culture. Men know how to objectify women, they can quickly learn how to objectify other men. It's natural for most men to treat a person as merely a tool for gratification. Women don't know how to do it yet, and without that knowledge, no algorithm will be enough to make the economics of the Hitch card work.

Deedee was now facing towards Veronica while rubbing her ass against the slut's cock, feeling it get hard against her. She kept staring into Veronica's eyes, feeding off of the older woman's attention and admiration. She was relaxing and her motions were becoming smoother and more natural as her excitement grew.

We can't have the card simply being used by women. We need men to use the card, too. But the value of men as sluts is only really worth any money to gay and bisexual men. Market research has shown that 93% of women would prefer a meal with a free appetizer to a meal that comes with no-strings attached oral sex. For men, only.03% would prefer the appetizer to the blowjob.