The House at the Top of Briggs Road

"About that." She eyed me carefully, her eyes slitted. "Look, Ricky, I'm an officer of the court. I know how you make your money. I'm not happy about it, but I can look the other way. Until you come in here with half a million and then I start getting worried. Because I was never a hooker, but I can't imagine you can make this kind of cash by running a string of girls, unless it's a damned long string."

"Just pay the fucking judgment." I wasn't in the mood to argue. "Less your fee. Which, I know, is substantial." She made a face at that, but I didn't care; she took the money and gave me a receipt, and out I went.

It was supposed to take me thirty years to pay off that judgment, and I was going to do it in five. I was sure the family of the guy I'd killed would be very unhappy once I did, but I couldn't give a shit about that. I had a life to live, a shop to open, a society to be a part of. And I didn't want to do it by selling pussy. Nobody sets out in life trying to be a pimp; it just happens, and a lot of us wish we weren't.

There were compensations, though, and one of them awaited me outside my little apartment when I got home. I'd never been a guy to let the grass grow beneath my feet, and in need of a sublime new rump to replace Andrea's I'd gone out hunting right away. Now, a couple days later, my newest target had shown up to audition. I remembered her name with a bright smile, the kind that (I knew) made me look roguish. "Hi!" I winked as I fumbled for my house keys. "It's Katie, isn't it?"

"Kaylee," she corrected, her voice low and brief. I'd need to correct that; I taught my women that anytime they're disagreeing with a man, they better put a honey or a cutie or a sir at the end of the phrase, depending on his preference.

I leaned up against the wall outside my door, facing her. "Let's try and flirt a little. Try saying, 'Kaylee, baby.'"

"Kaylee, baby," she sang, a small smile playing at the sides of her mouth.

"Good." I was feeling a lump in my pants. She was in short shorts and a tanktop, and she looked great. "Now push your hip out a little when you say it, and then run your fingers along my forearm."

"Yeah?" She looked doubtfully at me from over her sunglasses.

"'Yeah, honey,'" I corrected. "Get it right if you want this job."

She flushed suddenly, but hung in there. "I definitely want this job. Baby."

"Much better." I watched, smiling now, as she reached out and drifted her hand down my arm, the one that was in my pocket. She hooked her forefinger around my hand when she reached my jeans. "Pretend I'm your customer. How bad do you want it?"

Kaylee (Katie? It always took me awhile; at the moment, my brain had given her the cognitive label "Brunette, Nice Ass") claimed to be a pretty experienced whore, but she'd told me she'd gotten her start as a stripper and I'd learned over the years that those girls sometimes had some un-learning to do. I pegged her for about 21, meaning she'd spent at least a couple years on the pole before she'd branched out and started taking dick. I watched her carefully to see how well she'd do; you can tell a lot from the audition.

She smiled now, her smirk not bad but a little too fake. I made a mental note to correct her later, but her eyes needed no work; she lowered those big lashes with just the right mix of confidence and submission. My dick stirred some more. "Want to take me inside and find out how bad I want it?" It came out breathy, almost perfect already, and my heart rose along with my penis.

Always nice to find a natural.

She stepped up to me, her tits grazing my jacket, and when she whispered in my ear I could smell the coffee she'd had that morning. "Take it out."

I chuckled. A natural. "Here? On my porch?"

"Yep." I felt the slither of a thick, wet tongue on my earlobe, testing, as her hand left mine and drifted across the front of my Lucky jeans. "Why wait?"

I nodded as she bit her lip and looked down at where her fingers cupped my crotch, exploring. "You really do want to work for me," I grunted.

"The word is that you don't beat up women." Those long eyelashes flickered up once, glancing into my eyes. "That true?"

"I don't believe in bruising the fruit," I replied evenly. That drew a giggle, the worried kind, her hand still working the front of my jeans. "Why? You going to give me a reason to beat you up?"

"I'm not planning on it," she sighed, lips finding my face. She ran them, dry, along my jaw. "If you give me the job."

I was already more than halfway toward taking her aboard, as she had to know damn well. She'd known it from the moment I'd invited her to come by, sliding my address on a post-it note out my car window the night before. I'm not the greatest pimp out there, but it's true: I don't hit the girls. That's more drama than I need. It's always awkward the next day, too. "My key's in my pocket," I murmured into her thick dark hair. "Reach in and grab it." Out of the corner of my eye I caught a movement across the courtyard, my nosy neighbor Mrs Harris probably wondering why I was showing up at my apartment with yet another strange young woman.

Kaylee backed up slightly, her smirk becoming more natural as she slid long-nailed fingers into my hip pocket. I was expecting her to burrow around a bit and grab my cock, so I wasn't surprised when she did. Her fingers pressed hard into the side of my shaft, now half-hard and bunched uncomfortably behind my fly. She looked up at me, her eyes questioning, when I locked my hand around her wrist and stopped her. "What?"

"Girls never understand how painful it is to get hard in a pair of pants. Don't fuck around in there. You already felt me up; you know you've got me. Now you want to get the guy inside and get him naked. Just get the keys and seal the deal."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah baby," I corrected, my fingers tightening, and she nodded.

"Sorry." She stopped poking and prodding, swiveling her hand to haul out the thick wad of keys I kept in there. "I'm a little nervous," she confessed.

"Never tell a customer anything like that," I snapped quietly, "but if you want to tell me about it? Make sure nobody's listening," I urged, my lips brushing her ear now, "and relax when I whisper that you've got no reason to be nervous. That you're a hot little bitch, and every man who sees you wants to fuck you." She relaxed slightly, getting the keys out, and I kissed her cheek for encouragement. "A hot little bitch, Katie. Now let me in."

"Oh, I'll definitely let you in, sugar," she winked, back in character, her voice with that throaty burr some women get. "I'll let you in anywhere. But it's Kaylee, baby."

"Whatever." My hand found that sublime ass through her denims as she opened my door. I hadn't really cleaned for her, but I'm a reasonably tidy person anyway. Not that I planned to give her a chance to look around much. She was about to join my string, and I don't like it when employees come over. But sometimes I made exceptions, and that supple dancer's ass under my palm right then might just be enough to make that happen. "So where's your -- "

Bedroom would have been the next word, of course, but she said it into the wall as I shoved her hard from behind, my hand straight up inside her tanktop and feeling a nice, firm tit under one of Secret Whispers' lower-grade bras. I'd need to upgrade her underwear, I told myself, my mental cash register already ringing up expenses; some of that I'd take out of her earnings, but most I'd pay for.

A goodwill gesture for the new filly, from her new fella.

She gasped when I leaned into her hard, my body forcing her smaller one into a helplessly squashed position spread-eagled against the drywall. "What are you... fuck," she moaned as my head plunged into her hair, lips opening, sucking at her neck. "Fuck."

"That's the idea," I grunted, pushing forward. Her body felt firm and tight against mine; the girl definitely had great potential. Curb appeal, I mused, my hand roaming along her skin. "I'm impressed so far," I went on, and I know she had to feel my raging erection against her butt. I gripped the back of her waistband and pulled her unceremoniously off my wall so I could slide my other hand around her hips, reaching down, pushing roughly into the front of her shorts.

She tensed when she felt me inside her panties, but she didn't pull away; still, we'd need to work on that. That alone, that flexion in her entire body, told me she wasn't as seasoned a whore as she'd claimed. But I could work with that. "Relax, girl," I growled in her ear, my hand finding nothing but waxed skin down there. We'd work on that, too. Her pussy was hot, but not wet enough.

First things first.

"You need to sell it, Kaylee," I told her softly, my finger circling along the edges of her pussy lips while she sagged slowly back against me. "Want me. Even if you don't. You need to imagine that you do."

"I do," she insisted, voice hoarse, and then she squeaked a little as I pinched her clit. Finally, my probing fingers found her dew... "I fucking do."

"No," I breathed, and now my other hand reached high along her ribcage to test her nipple: soft. "You just want me to be your protector. Your shield. Your pimp." I kissed again at her neck. "But that thing you did just now? Where you got all rigid for a second when I grabbed your cunt?" She lurched, just a bit. "And there? When I said that? That shit's got to stop soon, honey." I tasted her sweat on my tongue when I nuzzled her collarbone. "You're a goddess. You were made for dick. You wanna fuck. So when guys touch you, or when they say cunt, you don't twitch. You melt." I hooked at her clit again, surprising another gasp from her. "Understand?"

"Fuck. That feels so good, baby," she whispered, beginning that deep-breaths thing that some chicks do when they're starting to get into it, and once again my heart leapt: if she wasn't starting to get aroused, she was doing a damn fine job convincing me. Now she ground that fine ass back against my meat, trapping my shaft between her enticing cheeks. "Let me take care of that for you, lover."

"Don't plead," I sighed; her butt really did feel good up on my junk. Two or three years giving lapdances had given her excellent form. I hunched forward slightly, letting her know she was doing a good job. "Just feel what I want and respond to it." I held my breath then. Some girls don't take hints, but the good ones do; the good ones take control. And this one waited only a couple seconds more before, with a hard eager shimmy against my dick, she turned to face me and leaned back against my wall.

When she sank to her knees, she did it with that well-trained grace that dancers almost always have; I assumed she must have done ballet, or been some kind of athlete or something, because her control of her legs was incredible. She stayed straight, back and neck a tight line, tits bursting forward as she found my eyes and held them, her hands trailing down my jacket to my belt buckle. I nodded as she began to undress me.

"Right now," I rasped, my own voice husky, "I've got a bitch named Rita who gives the best blowjobs a guy ever had." She smiled despite herself when I stroked her cheek lightly, her neck still glistening from where my mouth had given her a hickey. "Show me you can do better, angel."

She flushed again, bright red, and I saw my market: I could put her in pigtails and a Sailor Moon getup and pimp her out to bachelor parties, no problem. That blush she had... guys would be falling over themselves to defile her. I mean, I was! She traced the ridge of my cock once before she worked my zipper down, and then she was pawing at my waistband.

I felt a buzzing heaviness in my head as she pulled my cock free, my jeans and boxers dragging down across it until it flew up on its own, still way above the horizontal even after all the workouts I'd given it since I'd turned eighteen. She gazed at it, a fat rocket trembling, poised for takeoff, and she was still pushing my belt past my knees when she leaned forward and kissed it.

I watched carefully as the kiss, a delicate flutter from her lips right on the tip of my dick, slowly and perfectly became something more, her lips spreading slowly around my cockhead like a virgin pussy, tight and hot and welcoming. I closed my eyes and concentrated, seeking flaws I'd need to correct: teeth, or inadequate tongue movement, or excessive snot.

My girls are good. Really good.

Eventually I realized this girl was good too, and I allowed myself to feel a surge of satisfaction that mine was the cock she had in her mouth right now. I'd picked a winner, and as I looked down her back at the peach-plump globes of her ass, shoving hard at the inside of her shorts, I couldn't help but gasp.

She was amazing.

Impatiently, I grabbed her long dark hair and pulled her in, slowly but firmly, ignoring her gasps. "Yeah," I crooned, evaluating, judging. She was fighting hard not to puke. "Get ready, hon," I rasped, and when she'd gotten herself under control, her hands fending off my thighs, I threw my hips forward and felt my head wriggle into the top of her throat. "Swallow, bitch," I hissed, willing her to take me deep. It occurred to me that I'd have nail-marks on my quads when this was done, her fingers gripping me desperately, trying to push me back out. But I needed to see that she could do this. "Swallow!" I barked impatiently, my knuckles white in her hair.

And she did. Straining, heaving, her back arching, she drove herself forward on her own; I was impressed when her hair slackened in my grip, Kaylee swallowing desperately with tears in her eyes, gazing upward like a woman praying to her god, and I nodded back at her and made my decision: yes. I'd take this bitch, I'd doll her up, and I'd pimp her right the fuck out. She'd make me thousands. I pushed until I felt spitty breath on my balls, her nose buried in my ungroomed pubes, and then I gave her about five minutes of that before I realized she'd figured this out. She'd passed.

So I backed out, thinking again of sailor suits and frat parties, my dick a rampant sausage with a thick coating of the girl's spit. "Get the fuck up," I snarled, pulling at her hair, and she came up wiping desperately at her nose. I waited until she'd gotten her panting under control, at least a little, and then I grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her close. "Still want to be one of mine?" I asked her intently.

"Fuck yes," she gasped, her face a mess, and the sight of her ruined makeup made my balls lurch suddenly.

"You on the Pill?" I demanded. "Guys pay more not to glove up. I'll get you a doctor, obviously, regardless."

"Yes, yes, I'm on the Pill." It came out throaty, her lungs still working hard. "Goddamn," she marveled, looking down at my cock and wondering how she'd choked it down.

"Strip." It was an order, my first real command, lashing hard at her soul, and in that moment there was no way she'd disobey. I stepped out of my own pants too, then my shirt joined it on the floor even as she scrambled to get her bra off. "You'll learn to take your clothes off gracefully, eventually," I mused, "but you've got an audition to complete first."

She recovered quickly, finding herself, her dancer's poise reasserting itself. "Audition?" she spat. I watched as she lifted her nose in the air, her whole body suggesting outrage. "You think I'll have any problem making you cum?" Her eyes blazed, and all at once I went harder than I could remember being since my first time, harder than she could handle, my eyes seeing red lust close in on her from both sides. She flung her bra aside and stood there, hands on hips, her body perfect and tight and flushed from toe to forehead. Her nipples poked fat and ready from her firm, eager tits, and already I could smell her pussy. "Do you, baby?"

I answered with a shove, clinical and businesslike rather than angry, urging her on rather than trying to cow her. "That way," I grunted, "down the hall," and the two of us fled for my bedroom already fully primed to fuck, our mouths watering and our eyes large.

When she turned and leaned against my footboard, I could tell from her face that she had a plan. That impressed me: either I'd turned her on, zero to sixty, or she was pretending I had, and if she could look at her clients the way she was looking at me, it didn't matter whether she was acting. I held my tongue, jacking my long cock slowly, watching her eyes light up as she saw my balls tremble. "Lie down on your bed, baby," she drawled, and her voice was honey.

I nodded, letting the backs of my fingers indulge themselves with one long, slow pass down over her tits as I walked by; the sight of her nipples bobbing in my wake gave an added twinge to my hard, eager cock. I hiked myself up on my mattress, among the unmade sheets, and lay with my hands behind my head, the picture of arrogant male insolence, waiting impatiently to be mounted.

Kaylee strutted to me. She had a nightclub walk that emphasized her flexibility, but that probably looked much better when she had clothes on; I made a mental note to break her out of that habit, but by then she was at the side of the bed, looking down at me from behind the curtain of her thick hair with her lower lip between her teeth. "You're so hard, honey," she cooed, and once again I had no idea whether she was acting, that flush of hers now spreading over her supple tits.

I watched carefully as she swung her leg up over me, hopping on from the floor; that could be a tricky move to do well. "Might think about kneeling on the bed first, sexy," I told her coolly. "If you lost your balance and fell on your ass, I'd take it out of your earnings."

"I'll keep that in mind," she nodded, still purring at me, her inner thighs hot and sticky on my lap. My penis was a buzzing live wire, brutally long and thick before her. She nodded down at it, smiling, judging how deeply it would go. "I love your dick, baby," she breathed.

I nodded, my body still relaxed, watching what she'd do. She waited until my eyes found hers, swaying hypnotically with her stripper's instincts while I studied the way her pussy loomed, its symmetrical hot-pink maw now kissing my ballsack. Once she was sure she had my attention she rose up onto her knees, her fingers tracing down my abdomen and lifting my dick high for her.

"No," I said quietly, "reach from behind. From around your butt." Her eyebrows rose, so I explained. "Your customers want to watch themselves slide into that pretty little pussy of yours. I don't want your arm blocking the view." She nodded, her thin lip still clasped between small white teeth, and when she leaned back and reached between her own legs, I let my breath leave me in a low exhale as I watched the way her motions made her tits bounce. "You're a sexy one, Katie, you know that?"

"It's Kaylee, loverboy," she smiled, "but thanks." My cock twitched into her hand, and she raised it once more to line it up with that lovely gash of hers. We both held our breath when we felt my head begin to pierce her, then sighed together when she lined herself up and sank slowly, exquisitely, down until my veiny length disappeared within her body. "Whoah. You're big."

"You feel fucking good, Kaylee." She did, too, with just the right mix of tightness and heat to make me think she was just some sweet young lady, rather than a stripteasing whore. I brought my hand around and gave her ass a spank. "Fucking great, actually."

"Just wait." She flushed when she said it, clearly excited to have me pubes-deep in that slit of hers, and when she began to work her hips over my lap, tightening and twisting on my meat, I burrowed my head back into the pillows and groaned. "See? Toldja so, cutie."