Selling Myself

I got a second razor and went for it.

I had the fleeting thought that this meant I was already committed to having sex as a foregone conclusion, which I completely denied in another part of my mind. I was shaving my pussy because it was the right thing for an escort to do. That's all.

The moment I stepped out of the tub, Caroline called me and kept me on the phone for half an hour. I think she was more excited and nervous about my first date than I was. She kept giving me advice on what to do, and not to do. Actually, I appreciated it and committed what she said to memory.

I finally hung up on her and started to dress. I wore dark lace-top stockings attached to a burgundy garter belt, a nearly-matching dark red thong panty. I topped it off with a lace burgundy balconnet bra that held my boobs up and let them jiggle dramatically with my every move. I knew the four inch heels of my black pumps would create plenty of vibrations to keep the girls jiggling like jell-o when I walked.

Over this went a short burgundy cocktail dress with spaghetti straps and gold sparkles. It was an attention-grabber, that's for sure, and it was short enough that I would have to be careful of bending over lest I reveal my bottom to the masses.

I finished up with evening makeup and gold dangly earrings and a gold necklace with sapphires.

Then there was much preening in front of the mirror.

I had a short black silk jacket and a black clutch. I was dressed to entertain a gentleman, I thought.

That whole procedure took me until six-forty-five. I rushed out the door, knowing I shouldn't make the gentleman wait, but then again, a lady is ready when she is ready.

The valet at the Ritz was treated to a view of the lace tops of my stockings as I got out of my Lexus. I hoped that was all he saw, but at the same time, he was a good looking boy and if he got a glimpse of my panties, what's a girl going to do but smile gracefully?

In the lobby, I noticed the stares I was getting from all the men that I walked past. Apparently they were pleased with the way I swayed and jiggled in the high heels and tight, short dress. I walked carefully so as not to fall on my ass in front of God and everybody.

I made my way to the bar and surveyed my surroundings. My heart was beating fast and furious, and there he was. It was easy because he was the only blond man at the bar, and was younger by at least ten years than any other patron.

I put on my best smile and sashayed across the room toward him. He turned and saw me, and my heart warmed as he instantly smiled and his eyes gave me the once-over. He stood and gave me a chaste hug of greeting and a soft peck on the cheek.

"Hi, you must be Katie," he said. He had a nice deep voice. I like it.

"Yes," I said, "and you must be Brett."

He politely helped me onto the barstool. He couldn't help but to ogle my jiggling décolleté and the momentary appearance of the lace tops of my stockings. I smiled at him and wiggled into position, trying to make it a graceful transition.

"May I order you a drink?" he asked. Such a nice boy.

"Yes, a glass of white wine, anything but chardonnay," I cooed.

He was drinking Maker's Mark, rocks, and ordered another.

We began the conversation. Caroline had told me to ask questions and be impressed and delighted with the answers. She told me to giggle girlishly at anything he said that was remotely funny, and to reach out and touch him often. She told me to make sure to re-cross my legs now and then, and to make sure he saw me do it. She told me to lean forward often, making sure that my boobs were squeezed together and displayed nicely. She told me to keep my lips parted and sort of puffed out as I listened to his every word as though they were important.

I did all these things, and they were good advice since Brett kept interrupting his paragraphs to tell me that I was beautiful, that my dress was gorgeous, that I looked absolutely stunning, and that he was greatly pleased to be accompanied by such an amazing woman that evening.

A girl really likes to hear these sort of things. At least I do. I was liking this man more by the minute.

And I made a discovery - it was just thrilling to be seductive! I had never been free to just let it all hang out and use every bit of my feminine wiles at full force before. Even dating my husband, and after we were married, I had never done absolutely everything in my power to be a seductress. It was liberating.

I pulled every trick I knew to be alluring, feminine, desirable, and magnetic. I just let the nurturing feminine energy flow out of me like a river. While working my magic, I kept a surreptitious eye on Brett's crotch, to see if I could make him erect with my feminine wiles.

I gave him coquettish eyes, I jiggled my boobs at him, I accidentally showed him miles of thigh, I touched his arm or leg repeatedly, I wiggled my ass when I left for the ladies' room and jiggled my boobs when I came back. I pouted my lips, I licked my teeth, I smiled seductively.

I was a madwoman.

When we were taken to our table for dinner, I took his arm and snuggled against him, letting him feel the softness of my breasts. At the bar, and again at the table, we jostled for position and I let my hip rub against his crotch. I was shameless and I loved it.

Did I feel a little firmness there? I believe I did, thank you very much.

When I scooted into our booth, I couldn't stop myself from flashing him just a moment's look at the crotch of my satin thong, and I allowed his glimpse to linger just an extra beat of my heart.

Earlier at home, I had examined how I looked in the thong in the mirror, so I knew exactly what he saw. The gusset of this particular garment is unlined and it is very narrow and fits rather tightly. I have rather pronounced and puffy labia, so I knew that he could clearly see the cleft between my shaved-bare lips outlined by the dark satin panty.

I liked the way his eyes widened just a bit at the revelation of my white inner thighs and my sexy burgundy panty. Score.

We had a very nice dinner, and afterwards we returned to the Bar at about nine-thirty. We had another drink, and he asked me to dance to the soft jazz band that was featured that evening.

All of their songs seemed to be slow enough to dance close to, and I just let my body melt into his and let him lead me around the floor mindlessly. He would often whisper compliments on my appearance, my dancing, even directly complimenting my figure. How delightfully satisfying that was.

I let his hands caress and explore my back and hips. When in a crowd, I let him slip a hand onto my bottom, which he removed soon after in a very gentlemanly fashion. I casually wondered what my husband would think if he saw me dancing with this handsome young man. I bet he would cancel some of his trips...

I could feel the stiffness of Brett's penis against my belly as we swayed together. Not fully erect, but plump in his pants, and I let my tummy rub against that pleasing plumpness just a bit. Not too much, but just enough so that he knew that I knew he was aroused.

A song ended and he took me back to a little bar-height table on his arm, with me rubbing my boob against him rather blatantly. I guess the wine was taking hold.

He helped me onto the stool, and I gave him a little flash again, which made him smile bashfully. He looked at his watch and then met my eyes. I looked back at him expectantly, as if the next words he was about to speak were supremely important.

Brett smiled and said, "So, Katie, this has been the greatest evening I've ever spent with a woman. You're so gorgeous, I just don't want you to have to leave yet..."

"Oh," I said pouting, "Is it ten o'clock already?"

"It's already ten-thirty," he said sadly. Then he brightened up, "Say, what would you think of coming up to my room and having a nightcap? I've got a great ocean view that I'm sure you'd just love to see..."

There it was. The Invitation. This is what the client does when he wants to take his Companion to his bed and make love to her. How delicious. I'm being propositioned for sex by a man I've only known for three hours.

He wants me. I'm desirable. I'm attractive. This young man thinks I'm delicious.

He wants to undress me and touch my naked body. He desires to use my body for his pleasure. He wants to put his stiff penis in me, penetrate me, thrust in me, take me, possess me.

Come in me.

Oh my.

I was wet.

I wanted those very same things too.

"Hmmm," I cooed, "I don't really need to just go right home now... I suppose it would be nice to have another drink with you and see the view from your balcony..."

"Great!" he said happily. He was downright triumphant about it.

He took my hand and helped me off the stool again, and he escorted me toward the elevators.

In the elevator, he leaned close and whispered in my ear. "Katie," he said, "I really like you and I'd like to have you stay in the room with me for a while. I know you're not on the clock anymore, so I wanted to tell you what I was thinking..."

I looked up into his pretty eyes, "Ok, Brett, what did you have in mind for us, up in your room?"

He smiled, looking a little relieved, "I was hoping to spend a few hours together, in the room. Alone together. I'd like us to maybe get into something more comfortable, and be more intimate with each other. I'm sure your dress, beautiful as it is, isn't really comfortable for you. Maybe we could give each other a massage or something... I know I'd like to really kiss you..."

"Hmm, that sounds nice..." I whispered, wiggling into his body as his arm was around me.

"So, I was thinking," he said, "I could give you a tip to cover our time together in my suite. How would fifteen-hundred sound for a few hours more of our time together?"

Wow. Fifteen hundred bucks for doing what I was already gagging to do with this young stud. Bring it on.

"Oh, you're so nice," I whispered, "I'm sure that would be fine."

Then just to let him know that I was game, I tipped my head up to let him kiss me. His lips were warm and soft and manly. I casually ran the palm of my hand across his hip and let it glide across his crotch, pausing just a moment softly against his penis. His tongue slipped into my open mouth and I accepted it, melting into the kiss.

The elevator door opened and we parted reluctantly. We put ourselves together and stepped out into the hallway. He took me to a corner room, his arm around me and his hand sliding a bit more aggressively over my bottom than I would normally like in a public hallway, then he opened the door for me and guided me in.

A very nice room. Big, and with a dining table no less. A separate bedroom even. Wow.

I looked at the ocean from his balcony as he poured me another glass of wine. I was already feeling a bit tipsy, but I really wanted a little more 'fortification' before anything progressed further.

Brett appeared at my side with a glass of white. He had dropped his coat and tie, and he was nicely muscular under his dress shirt. He smiled at me and said, "Let me get you something more comfortable to put on," and turning he left me and went into the bedroom.

The most uncomfortable thing I was wearing were the 4"pumps. My feet were killing me. But I knew Caroline had said, 'no matter what, don't take off the shoes and stockings unless the client asks.' I would heed her advice and suffer.

Hopefully I'd be off my feet soon anyway.

Brett returned with a robe. I was sort of expecting the white terry-cloth hotel variety. Instead, he held out a really pretty, sheer lace black negligee-type robe. It made my tummy doe little flips and I gulped some more wine.

So it's starting. The undressing. Then there will be kissing. Oh God I hope a lot of kissing, and the caressing and groping, and then more undressing.

And then the sex.

By agreeing to come up to his suite, and agreeing that the tip he offered was very nice, I had agreed to let Brett have me. I had agreed to give him my body for a few hours to do with as he pleased. I had agreed put myself into his control and voluntarily dedicate my body to his pleasure.

I'm a married woman. What was I doing?

I suspected he would be a gentle lover. He looked good, smelled wonderful, behaved very well, was kind and courteous. A good candidate if there ever was one. And deep down I was already committed. I had been ever since I first felt the size of his penis. I mean cock. He seemed to have a big cock, bigger than my husband's. Maybe a lot bigger. I just hoped it wouldn't hurt too much when he put it in me.

I took the little sheer robe with a smile, "Oh, that looks very nice," I said, "you think of everything..."

I walked into the bathroom and closed the door. I shimmied out of the dress and laid it down next to the bathtub. I looked in the mirror at myself - pumps, stockings, garter, thong, balconnet bra. What's not to like.

I slipped the rob over and I could still see everything, it was just blurrier through the black sheer lacey fabric. I wondered if this would be a good time to lose the bra. I slipped out of it and put the robe back on. My nipples and areola are sort of medium brown and were visible through the sheer robe, but I thought it looked better without the bra.

That would leave him only needing to remove my thong to get things going. I looked like a woman ready for sex. My heart was in my throat and I was nervous as hell. I tried to control my breathing.

I put my hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath, and went into the living room.

Brett was sitting on the sofa, and his eyes just about bugged out of his head. I liked that a lot. I swayed and shimmied and jiggled my way to him, watching his eyes flow over my body and capture every feminine movement.

I suppose in that moment I understood why strippers say that they like doing it. It is a big rush to have a strange man look at your body like that, with equal parts amazement, appreciation, and animal passion.

The look on his face made me feel very sexy, desirable, and horny. I looked between his slightly spread legs and could detect the definite bulge of his manhood. Perhaps it even grew in the brief moment that I watched before returning my gaze to his eyes.

He had sexy eyes, clear blue and honest. And they were looking at me in a way that made me feel powerful. As though he would lose himself in the soft curves of my body, he stared hungrily and helplessly at the same time. I had him, he was mine, I could make him do anything for me...

When he spoke, his voice was a desperate rasp. "Please come sit beside me, Katie," he said.

I liked the sound of desperation and earnest desire in his voice. I liked that he was desperate to have me, to kiss me, to touch me. I paused standing in front of him, letting him look, making him want me.

I twirled slowly to let him see my uncovered bottom through the sheer robe. When I faced him again, I struck a little girl pose and in a little girl voice I said, "You like?"

He nodded ardently, "More than you can imagine," he gasped.

I felt powerful, as previously stated, and since I was more than a decade his senior, I thought I should be able to make some demands.

"Well, mister," I said coyly, "It seems that I have very little on, but you're fully clothed..." I put my hands on my hips, spread my feet, and stood still, looking at him. Waiting for him to obey.

He jumped to his feet, kicked off his shoes, pulled off his socks, and removed his shirt. He was trim and nicely muscled, with just a little chest hair between his big pectoral muscles.

"Very nice," I said, "But I'm only wearing underwear. I think you should do the same..."

It's always nice to watch a man unbuckle his belt, unfasten his pants, and pull down his zipper. It's just so 'male' and full of promise. He let his slacks fall to the floor and kicked them away.

And he was breathtaking.

He had very muscular legs, which I adore. He wore white boxer-briefs that clung to every curve of firm muscle, and I especially liked how the pouch clung to his genitals.

Big, long, thick, were the words I would use to describe the shape of his penis beneath the stretchy fabric. I could only think that his testes, nestled behind his stiffening shaft, would best be described as full and heavy.

He sat back down on the sofa and patted the seat next to him. I now considered him equally dressed as me, well almost, as close as he could be without being nude.

I slowly sat next to him, then I swiveled and laid my torso in his lap. He expertly caught my neck and shoulders to give me some support, and lowered his lips to mine. He began kissing me with real passion and I returned his kiss. I hate using superlatives, but there's just nothing like having a man's attention when he is passionately aroused and filed with hunger and desire.

I like being kissed by a hungry man. He was forceful, but not ungentle as he slipped his tongue past my eager lips to plunder my mouth. With his right arm around my neck, he maneuvered his right hand to my right breast, which he began to gently but firmly feel. His left hand moved to my left breast, beneath the robe, I hadn't been so well-kissed and well felt-up in many years. It was wonderful.

It felt good to have strong male hands on my breasts, feeling, touching, exploring. Then his fingers began to search out my nipples, and finding them, I felt gentle pinching and twisting. A soft moan of real pleasure escaped my lips as my erect nipples sent shockwaves of gratification straight to my groin.

My hands were on his chest, feeling the strength of his muscles, the rasp of his breathing, and the strong beating of his heart. He was like a powerful animal, holding himself back from the edge of lust - keeping his real desires at bay so as to be gentle with me. I liked that - all his constrained strength and power tempered by his appreciation for the softness of my body.

It felt like he wanted to possess me, to make me his own, and I knew that he would do just that soon enough. In the meantime, I had to make sure he was pleased with me.

I began to pinch his nipples. Hard. Men are strong beasts and a girl has to use some force to get their attention. His turn to moan into our kiss.

His right hand continued to maul my breast and nipple, much to my delight, but his left hand departed the softness of my breast and began to caress its way down my chest to my tummy.

Oh, my, I thought, he's going to touch my pussy, and I kissed him with encouraging vigor. I remembered that I had shaved completely bare and was glad of it. I knew he'd like what he found when my thong finally came off.

Even now, I was dripping wet. I could feel the well-lubricated 'squishiness' between my legs, as my vagina was crying out, "enough foreplay - bring on the cock!".

But I had other plans. I wanted the journey to intercourse to be fully exploratory and fully enjoyed by both of us. I was patient.

As his fingertips reached the waistband of the tiny thong and passed onto the narrow swath of fabric barely covering my mons, it felt like electricity was shocking my groin area. Then his fingertips found my cleft, and he slipped a single finger between my puffy vulva to find the aroused and erect bud of my clitoris.

I gasped loudly, unable to hide or control my reaction as he began to wiggle his finger against my pleasure nub, driving me into a passionately kissing, gasping, wiggling woman. My thighs parted of their own accord to give him greater access, and his fingers delved more fully. My vulva and labia were fully felt up and were swelling in response to his firm and manly touch.

He broke the kiss and started pushing the waistband of my thong down. I couldn't resist, not that I wanted to, but I felt helpless to stop him from pulling down my panties. It was a good feeling to be so forcefully exposed.