Professional Excellence Ch. 07

I brought up Howard's number on my phone. I had put Monique's number into his mobile. At first, it was a joke, but recently he had been using it to send suggestive messages on the days we were to get together. He found it easier, I think, to ask for certain outfits, or acts, by text than in person. I took a deep breath, pressed the number and listened nervously as it connected.

'Hello, Monique? Is everything alright?'

There was surprise in his voice. I had never used the number to call him before. I could hear the evening news on the TV playing in the background.

'Everything's fine, Howard. It's just that I've had an unusual request and I wanted to run it past you before deciding what to do. It might mean staying away overnight.'

'Tell me more.'

He sounded defensive.

'I've been asked if I would act as a magician's assistant.'

'A what?'

'A magician's assistant. You know, one of those women who hand over props and look pretty.'

There was a slight pause. I could picture him sitting in his armchair, his newspaper on his lap, trying to work out what on earth I was talking about.

'I wasn't aware you knew any magicians.'

'Oh, he's not what you might call a professional. It's the barman at a place I go occasionally.'

I thought it best not to mention the exact location. I rushed to continue.

'He does little tricks when it's quiet. Someone there saw us tonight and asked him to appear at a charity event.'

'Charity?'

'Yes. It's a fellow lodge to yours actually. They're having one of those men's charity evenings and the compère has let them down, apparently.'

I gave him the name of the city and heard him whistle.

'So you'd be away overnight, you say?'

'Probably. You know how late these things go on. I'm not sure I'd feel safe driving at night. And I might have to have a drink or two. I'm sure I'd be nervous.'

'You sound excited.'

I would have described my demeanour as neutral. But once Howard mentioned it I realised that a large part of me really wanted to do it.

'I suppose I am. And flattered. I've never been asked to do anything like that before. Yes.'

'In that case you should definitely do it. I just have a couple of questions.'

'Thank you, Howard. I hadn't really decided whether I wanted to do it or not. But speaking to you has made me quite excited about it. It'll be an adventure. I'll have to come up with something really special to thank you.'

I added a little smoke to my voice for the last bit and I heard him chuckle. I was about to hang up when I remembered.

'You said you had a questions?'

'Oh yes. Two. One, can I help you decide on your outfit and, two, will you promise to tell me all about your adventures afterwards?'

'You're thinking naughty thoughts aren't you?'

'I am.'

'Then the answer is definitely yes to both. And Howard?'

'There was something else?'

'Don't go to bed too soon. You'll be getting a freebie by way of thanks when I get in.'

There were mixed reactions when I broke the news to the pair waiting for me at the bar. Monty was wobbling dangerously in his seat by the time he had finished effusing. Michael was less happy.

To my surprise he warmed to the idea considerably after Monty bought him another drink and we began discussing how the act might go. He was getting positively excited, pulling small change out of my cleavage. I told them about Howard's request to help pick out an outfit.

'It's likely to be quite skimpy. I hope that's acceptable.'

'Actually tricks look better when you can show people the object you're making appear wasn't already hidden.'

'That's the spirit, Michael. You'll be admitting you're looking forward to it soon.'

I smiled at him over the rim off my glass. His expression immediately changed to a scowl.

'Oh Michael. Always playing hard to get.'

He snorted and stalked away to serve a customer at the other end of the bar. I smiled at Monty. He had had his hand on my leg ever since I returned from my phone call.

'I'm not hard to get at all, you know. You obviously like my legs. Why don't we go to your room? For a very reasonable fee, I could show you some magic of my own?'

He almost fell against me with his haste to extract himself from the stool. He had drunk one more cocktail while we talked. Basically he had drunk enough to fell an elephant. I slipped underneath his shoulder to give him discreet support and we made our way to the foyer by which time he had more or less mastered the art of walking in a straight line. His mind was obviously grinding through the gears too, because as we waited for the lift to descend I felt his hand slip from somewhere around my waist and start pawing at my arse. I hissed at him.

'Not here.'

'No nanny.'

He withdrew his mitt immediately and stood independently until the doors opened. When we got inside he propped himself up against the mirrored back wall and stood looking down at his feet, hands clasped in front of his groin. He was the picture of a naughty schoolboy.

'Did you really have a nanny when you were little?'

'Oh yes, she stayed with the family until I went to university. She's retired now, of course, but I still visit her occasionally when...'

He stopped himself abruptly.

'When what?'

His chin fell lower onto his chest and his already florid face turned scarlet.

'Tell me.'

'When I've been a bad boy.'

It came out in a whisper. He looked forlorn. It was difficult not to laugh. The confident, if bumbling, man from the bar who had persuaded even the stoic Michael way out of his comfort zone was now reduced to an inarticulate boy. We arrived at his floor and we walked along the carpeted corridor in silence until he stopped at his door. He began fumbling with the card key and tugging ineffectually at the door handle. I held out my hand palm upwards.

'Give it to me.'

'No. I'll get this in a minute.'

'I said, give it to me. Now.'

It came out more sternly than I intended, but in my defence, I was always a little nervous entering a client's room. I was sure hotel security must have hours of CCTV footage of me by now. I was surprised questions were not being asked. I made a mental note to ask Michael if anything had been said to him about me. Monty dropped the card onto my hand and stood waiting like he had in the lift. I opened the door and he shuffled in after me.

The room was perfectly neat. Usually, men away from home revert to their inner adolescent: clothes and towels all over the place, empty cups and glasses on most surfaces, and bed, a mess. Monty had placed his small overnight bag on that weird foldy-thing all hotels have, but no one ever uses. I presumed his change of clothes were in the drawers and wardrobe. The rest of the room was as neat as the chambermaid had left it. I turned to give him a compliment on the neatness and found he was still standing just inside the door.

Normally when men get me into their rooms I have a fight on my hands to keep them from tearing my clothes off me. Experience has taught me that fresh stockings as well as clean knickers are essential and I normally take my dress off as soon as the client allows. Bodily fluids do come out with dry cleaning, but I was getting embarrassed at the number of timesdifficult stains were being pointed out to me by censorious assistants at my local outlet. I sat in the one armchair and crossed my legs. Monty clearly wanted to keep playing, though I noted that his little-boy eyes followed my every movement and he was taking peeks at the thin strip of bare thigh I had exposed when he thought I wasn't looking.

'Did nanny let you look at her legs?'

'No...'

He hesitated.

'I'm sorry, I don't know how I should address you.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'Should I call you nanny? Or mistress? Madam?'

I took a minute to think. This was all new to me. Mostly with clients, I was more submissive. I had grown to like having my bottom smacked and my nipples pinched. On the other hand, if you'd told me six months ago I'd be nonchalantly penetrating strange men's anuses with a lubricated finger, I wouldn't have believed you. Tipsy middle-aged men need a variety to stimuli to perform. This new departure might be interesting.

'Ms Monique while we're alone.'

'Yes, Ms Monique. And no nanny did not approve of me looking at her legs, or thinking any naughty thoughts for that matter.'

I slowly uncrossed and recrossed my legs. His eyes followed and I thought I caught him ducking his head to catch a glimpse of my panties.

'And did she punish you?'

'Oh yes, Ms Monique.'

'I see.'

All slurring was gone from his speech. His eyes sparkled. It was clear what he wanted.

'Take out your wallet and take off your belt.'

He did as he was told.

'Place one hundred pounds on the dresser and then bring the belt to me.'

Fat men generally need belts to keep their tailoring in order. I grinned inwardly as he shuffled around the room to follow my instructions. Once completed, he stood in front of me, both hands on the waistband of his trousers. He watched me as I rang the belt through my fingers before doubling it. He winced as I slapped the loop hard against the arm of the chair. Fair play to the cleaning staff, not even a speck of dust rose after the satisfying thwack. I stood up and moved to stand behind Monty.

'Did nanny punish you often?'

'Yes.'

'Yes what?'

'Yes, Ms Monique.'

'You will always call me Ms Monique, unless I give you permission. Is that clear?'

'Yes, Ms Monique. Thank you, Ms Monique.'

I unzipped the back of my dress, took it off and folded it over the hard chair before the dresser.

'You have been staring at my legs without permission. For that I shall have to punish you.'

'Yes, Ms Monique.'

'I also saw you looking down my cleavage, just now. I shall punish you for that too.'

'Yes, Ms Monique. Thank you, Ms Monique.'

There was the merest trace of concern in his voice.

'I have taken off my dress. I am standing here in my very skimpy underwear. But you are not to look at me until I give you permission.'

'Yes, Ms Monique.'

He had half-turned when I mentioned my state of undress but regained his original position when I admonished him.

'Take your hands away from your trousers. Only very bad boys play with themselves in the presence of a lady.'

He did as he was told and the garment slid awkwardly to the floor. He was wearing baggy boxer shorts which had slipped below his belly.

'You will bend over the arm of the chair and pull down those ridiculous underpants so I can beat you on your bare bottom. Do you understand?'

'Yes, Ms Monique.'

He quickly moved into position. Given his bulk, it did take a little while and he struggled to tug his pants down to his knees after he had arranged himself across the chair. When he had finished, the very white skin of his butt cheeks gleamed under the overhead lights.

'I shall give you six of the best. You will count each stroke and thank me for punishing you. Do you understand?'

'Yes, Ms Monique.'

I smacked him, I thought gently, with the belt. A faint red line appeared across the white skin.

'One, Ms Monique. Thank you.'

The second and third were harder and the marks they left more livid. Monty made no sound except to announce the number and thank me for the blow. I aimed lower for the next two strokes, more or less at the crease where buttocks end and the legs begin. I heard him grunt softly when the belt struck, but there was no hint of pain in his voice.

'Five, Ms Monique. Thank you.'

'The next stroke will be the last. For now. When you have thanked me, you will remain in the same position until I give you permission to move.'

'Yes, Ms Monique.'

'I am going to have to remove my bra. You have made me perspire and I can feel the sweat pooling under my breasts. You will not look at me until I give you permission, is that clear?'

'Perfectly, Ms Monique.'

I put all my strength into the last stroke. Monty let out a small cry of pain and there was a catch in his voice when he announced the last number. We were both breathing more heavily. I threw the belt onto the bed, unclasping my bra and sat down to examine my handiwork. There were six clear red lines across the expansive backside. One or two of them were developing a faint blueness around their edges which seemed to get deeper as I watched.

'What did nanny use to punish you? Did she have a belt?'

'Oh no, Ms Monique. She used the back of her hair brush. She called itOld Faithful.'

'And she used Old Faithful a lot.'

'Yes, Ms Monique, mostly after my bath.'

'Your bath?'

'If my winkle got hard when she washed me she would make me fetch Old Faithful.'

I stood and delivered two more quick slaps with the belt. He had looked in my direction as he spoke about nanny's hairbrush.

'I did not give you permission to look up at me, did I? And I thought I had instructed you toalways call me Ms Monique unless I gave you explicit permission not to. Was I wrong?'

'No, Ms Monique. Please forgive me Ms Monique.'

I let the matter drop. I was intrigued by this nanny and her particular brand of child rearing.

'Nanny washed you, did you say? How often did that happen?'

'Every other night until I left for college, Ms Monique.'

'Did she wash your winkle when she bathed you?'

'Always, Ms Monique. And after I turned eighteen she would stroke me to make medischarge into a face cloth before fetching Old Faithful.'

'What a fucked-up bitch.'

I didn't say my last thought out loud, of course. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Once they turned about twelve, my own two boys wouldn't go in the bath or shower unless they were assured that I was downstairs. Talk about an invasion of privacy. And no wonder he got spanked a lot.

'You may sit up and look at me now.'

'Thank you, Ms Monique.'

He shuffled into an upright sitting position. I noticed both hands were clasped in front of hiswinkle - it was the same term we had used with the boys when they were toddlers - but seemed reluctant to look at me even though I had given him permission. He kept stealing surreptitious glances when he thought I may not notice. I busied myself stroking non-existent fluff from my nipples and straightening my near-invisible thong.

'Look at me, Monty.'

'Yes, Ms Monique.'

He dragged his eyes up to my body and held them there for a minute before dropping his head again. He clutched his hands tighter around his cock. I picked up the belt deliberately looped it and then went to stand in front of him, legs akimbo. We waited.

'I saidlook at me, you naughty boy.'

I dragged the belt across his shoulder to remind him of the consequences of disobedience. He lifted his head again. With the extra lift my high-heels gave me, my pussy was inches from his face. He would have been able to take in the aroma of my own excitement.

'Do you like what you see?'

'Yes, Ms Monique, very much.'

'Tell me what you're looking at.'

I heard him gulp.

'I can see your twopence, Ms Monique.'

I stifled another laugh. The language of his nursery was deeply ingrained.

'Can you see my swollen lips pushing at the tight material of my tiny panties?'

He croaked ayes so I tapped him on the shoulder with the belt. Not hard, but enough to let him know I was still holding it.

'Yes?'

'Yes, Ms Monique. I'm sorry, Ms Monique. You're making me so excited, Ms Monique.'

I ran my finger slowly over the cleft made by my swollen labia. I could feel my own dampness and feel his warm breath against my thighs as he maintained his frozen position. The temptation to grab his hair and push his mouth against me was almost overwhelming. But work's work, and I was passing myself off as a professional.

'You are forgiven.'

'Thank you, Ms Monique.'

'Is your winkle hard?'

'Yes, Ms Monique.'

'Show me.'

I heard a short sob escape his lips. I took a step backwards to give myself a clearer view of what he was doing. I could see nothing. The folds of his belly fat fell over his groin and he had both hands positioned between his legs.

'I saidshow me. Stand up and remove those ridiculous shorts.'

I had to reach to deliver his punishment so it was harder than the last one. I heard the slap of the leather against his sweaty skin followed almost immediately by a sharp slap as the two sides of the leather clapped together. I saw him wince with pain. I sat back on the bed as he heaved himself up from the chair.

Monty slowly lowered the offending garment to his ankles and stepped out of it. His every move was cumbersome due to his desire to keep his erection hidden, a situation exacerbated by his bulk. When he stood up I tapped his hands with the belt to get him to move them. He was almost crying with shame.

'Impressive. You have a very, very dirty mind. We shall have to consider what to do about this.'

I wasn't lying. Protruding out from underneath his belly and the thick thatch of black hair between his legs was a thick, eight-inch, hard-on. Blue veins bulged beneath the taut pink skin and the purple plum at the end shone. Most overweight men have problems displaying their equipment to its best advantage: too much excess flesh in the way. That was certainly not a problem for Monty. I licked my lips thinking what it would be like to feel him stretching my mouth and filling my throat.

'What would nanny say about this situation?'

I nodded at his erection.

'She'd say I was a bad boy who needed to be taken in hand, Ms Monique.'

'And would she take you in hand herself? Or make you do it in front of her?'

He looked shocked.

'She would always do it. I couldn't... Do that.'

I slapped him gently with the belt against his buttocks.

'You will do what I order you to.'

I repeated the action twice more.

'You are getting lazy about using my title when I address you. Go and get a face cloth from the bathroom while I consider what to do.'

I slapped him across the bottom with my hand as he turned, beaming, towards the bathroom. He was almost breathless when he returned. He stood to attention, the cloth gripped in one hand. He had both hands by his side. I leaned forward to examine his cock. It was still hard and there was a small pearl of pre-cum at its tip. I had a fleeting thought as to whether Michael had been watering down his cocktails.

'Good. That was most efficient.'

'Thank you, Ms Monique. I'm sorry about my earlier lapses, Ms Monique.'

I patted his bottom reassuringly.

'Tell me, Monty. Did nanny ever take you in her mouth?'

I had to lean back slightly in order to catch his expression without his belly blocking the view. I ran my tongue across my scarlet lipstick. He was confused.

'No, never, Ms Monique. She wouldn't do a thing like that.'

He was looking down as I edged ever so slightly forward and licked my lips again. He was hypnotised.

'I shall suck your winkle until youdischarge into my mouth. Would you like that?'

I extended my tongue and removed the small drop of pre-cum barely touching the skin of his throbbing penis. I smacked my lips but there was barely no taste to speak of.

'Yes, Ms Monique. Very much.'

His whole body was shaking with anticipation.

'But not tonight. You have been a very bad boy and made a number of errors. Hand me the face cloth.'

He passed it to me without speaking, but I heard a sharp intake of breath when I grasped his cock and squeezed it as hard as I could. I eased off and began to massage his length.

'You must have been a naughty boy to get so hard. Have you been looking at my tits without asking permission?'

'Yes. Ms. Monique.'

'Bad boy.'

I increased the tempo slightly and added a gentle twist of my wrist at the end of each stroke.

'Are you enjoying this?'