The Jesus Incident

I really, really hate it when Sly's cynical appraisal of humanity turns out to be correct. It makes me feel like the naïve WASP 'princess' he first called me. Of course, it's a million times worse, though, when I'm forced to admit that to him and have to endure his scorn and his patronizingly superior attitude. Having grown up on the streets, he can be really rough when he wants to be,

Sorry, let me give you a little background before I continue. Sly and I run a small two-person business. We sell sex. More specifically, we sell me. Like any small business, the partners have to assume multiple roles. Sly is management, sales, and security, while I handle customer satisfaction. We've been doing this for a while now, and quite successfully, too, ever since Sly blackmailed me into the work. We made a deal, then. By servicing Sly and some paying 'friends', I was able to buy back the incriminating evidence.

In the process, though, I found that I was actually quite good at the work and rather enjoyed both the sexual and the adventurous parts. When the blackmail account was satisfied, Sly proposed that I continue with him, but now on a partnership basis, I agreed. I didn't give up my day job with a law firm, but my nights are a lot more fun than I'd ever imagined when growing up in a strait-laced upper crust Connecticut family. Oh yeah, he money's not bad, either.

By now Sly and I have learned to respect one another, each for the talents we bring to the enterprise. Judging by our success, we are quite good at our respective jobs. However, we disagree on the basic nature of men. Sly mocks me for my trusting attitude and has warned me on numerous occasions not to freelance, but to rely on his judgement in choosing safe clients for me. Too, he's usually around just in case anything gets squirrely. He's a big guy, and you don't want to mess with him.

Most of the time, I listen.

But not always.

I have a strong independent streak, and don't do well under patronizing. And sometimes I just want to be an ordinary girl again, hanging out and occasionally meeting some nice guy and spending the night with him. No fee, just fun. This pisses Sly off no end. He can't understand how I can give it away for free. He also thinks I have no judgement and that I risk damaging our sole merchandise (me). Which would not be good for business.

This time he was right.

It was a night off for me. Sly had no clients lined up when I called to check in. So, I put on my little black dress, my dark stockings and heels and headed out. My intent was to go to a club I like to see what might develop, but I stopped in a deli for a light snack to fortify me for the evening. I was sitting eating my salad when this guy comes over. He says he's a stranger in town. Okay, that's a dumb line, but the guy was really good looking, clean cut and very well dressed. On a lark I asked him to join me. I mean, if nothing came of it, I still had all night left.

"Thank you," he said as he sat down. "People in this city seem so cold and unfriendly, it's very nice to find someone who isn't. Tell me, are you this friendly to all strange men?"

"That's a rather personal question, don't you think?" I was beginning to regret my invitation.

"Yes, it was. I'm very sorry. It's just that you are so beautiful, I'm sure lots of men are attracted to you, as I am."

Well, that mollified me a bit. Who doesn't like compliments?

"Perhaps you would help me," he said. "I really do feel lost. I'd be very appreciative if you could tell me more about the city."

I was beginning to warm up to the guy. He seemed decent, and kind of cutely naïve.

"I'm staying at the hotel next door. Would you be willing to come up with me and tell me more about the city?"

I did a double take. Either this guy was a babe in the woods or one of the fastest workers I'd ever met. But he really was cute, and I had already decided I liked him. So what the hell. I've said before that I'm a risk-taker. Bedding him seemed like a reasonably good idea.

"Sure. I'd like that," I said. "Let's go."

I should have sensed something was off when, as we walked next door and rode the elevator, he made no attempt to explore my body. Well, he held my hand, but it had more the feel of not wanting to let me get away rather than anything flirtatious. But I missed the signals. Or maybe he was sincere about wanting help.

When we got into the room, though, all that changed, and suddenly. Hardly had the door closed when he was at me, pawing my breasts and fumbling at the zipper of my dress.

"Hey! Slow down, lover," I said, backing away from him.

"No," he grated. "I know you for what you are: a sinful woman. Your body is a trap for good men. I can spring that trap and not be tainted by you. Christ Jesus gives me that strength."

I didn't know what to say to that that wouldn't make things worse. I shut up.

Oh God, what had I gotten myself in for? Clearly the guy was a nut. Like most guys, he apparently wanted to get laid, but he couldn't just accept that, and instead had to square it with some weird anti-sex or misogynistic religious dogma by turning his normal male desire into some kind of divine mission. In short, a fanatic. Now I was really scared.

He was pawing at my dress, driving me backwards. He was immensely strong. I had two choices: I could resist and likely get hurt and raped, or I could give him what he really wanted and more, and then count on his post-coital enervation to slow him down enough to give me a chance to talk my way out of this mess.

I stopped fighting.

"See, God gives you to me," he said. "Ply your wiles as you may, daughter of evil. I have the strength of Christ and will resist."

He had a strange idea of resistance.

He managed to unzip the back my dress. He grasped the dress by the shoulders and pulled it forward and off, baring my torso to the waist. He grasped my bra and yanked. Ow, that really hurt. The clasp parted in back and the bra came off in his hand. He stopped for a moment and looked at my naked chest.

"Your breasts are magnificent," he said. "Satan truly designed you well as a lure for the weak."

Yeah. And they didn't 'lure' him. Sure.

He reached for me. I moved back, but my legs hit the bed and I fell backward. Before I could recover, he shoved my dress up and exposed my legs all the way up to my crotch. In another second he had my panties off. I was left with my dress bunched up around my waist, naked above and below but for my stockings and heels and a pearl necklace.

He stood over me. There was a fanatical light in his eyes. I felt paralyzed, like a bird caught in the unblinking gaze of a cobra. I thought about kicking him in the balls, but my angle was wrong, and I was afraid of what he would do if I didn't completely disable him.

He quickly undressed, never taking his eyes off mine. His cock was very big and fully erect, with pre-cum dripping from it.

"See, Woman! See the instrument of your defilement! You cannot resist the power of God. Submit. Submit and you may yet be saved."

I don't think I've ever been so scared. But my only real option was to give him what he wanted. He might be a fanatic and cover his lust with religious mumbo-jumbo, but he was a man nonetheless. Maybe if I could siphon off some of the biological imperative soaking his brain, I could get through to him when he had been sated.

I spread my legs and reached my arms up to him.

"Take me, then," I said. "Show me the way of right. I am yours to instruct."

In a blur, he was on me. His full weight came crashing down on me, knocking the air out of me. I felt his massive cock part my pussy lips and drive relentlessly into me. It hurt a bit because the only lubrication came from his pre-cum. His groin hit mine.

"I have you now," he said. "Feel the power of God." Well, I felt something alright, but it was rather more mundane. He was pretty big.

He started pumping me. He wasn't gentle at all. I winced, but he didn't care. He thrust harder. He pawed my breasts. His breath came in gasps.

"It cums!" he shouted. "Prepare yourself!"

He let go my breasts and grabbed me by the throat. He started to choke me. I struggled, but the motion of my body only served to enhance his excitement.

I was getting dizzy when suddenly he came inside me. I could feel his cock grow and begin to throb and then it spasmed and squirted his semen into me. His eyes rolled up into his head and he shouted, wordlessly.

All his consciousness went to his ejaculating cock. His hands on my neck relaxed for a second. I saw my chance, then.

With all the force I could manage I brought my knee up into his balls even as they were pumping his sperm into me.

He screamed. I rolled over and threw him off me. His still-spurting cock flew out of me. Gobs of semen flew through the air. He fell to the floor. His breath came out of him in a whump when he hit. I grabbed the nearest heavy object, the bedside telephone, and beaned him with it.

He was out like a light. His cock was still hard, shining with his cum. With disgust I wiped off a couple of drops of his ejaculate that had landed on me.

I waited just long enough to make sure he wasn't dead, then rearranged my dress the best I could and hot-footed it out of there. I was shaking all over.

I needed help. The only one in the city I could turn to under these circumstances was Sly. Somehow, I managed to take a cab to his apartment.

Thank God, he was in.

He had gotten the door only halfway open when I launched myself at him. I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him with all my strength, like a shipwrecked sailor finding a life raft. I buried my face in his broad shoulder and sobbed.

Sly, who had probably never been hugged in his entire life, had no idea how to react.

"Princess, what the fuck?"

I just grabbed him tighter. I pressed every inch of my body that I could against him. My body shook with my sobs.

Sly might not have known how to react to this intimate contact with a distraught woman, but his body did. I felt the hardness grow between us. Suddenly I was overcome by an overpowering need for an intimate visceral connection to another human being, one who was sane, maybe a representative of a familiar world. I let go of Sly's neck long enough to fumble at his pants.

"Princess..." he stammered.

"Sly, shut up, dammit!" I shouted in his ear. "Shut up and take me. Oh God, I need you inside me, now! Fuck me, God dammit!"

Bless him, he shut up. I threw my legs around him. He used my body to slam the door shut and then pressed my back up against it. While I held onto his neck for support, he undid his belt and dropped his pants. When he pulled down his shorts his big cock burst forth. Oh Lord, it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I had sucked it once, when we were first getting started, months ago, but I had forgotten how wonderfully big it was. It was exactly what I needed just then.

He hiked up my dress. My panties were long gone, lying somewhere in that crazy bastard's hotel room. He grabbed my naked ass. His magnificent cock pressed my pussy lips. His hips rose and I pressed my groin into him. His cock slide home into me, filling me with his solid male presence. Lord, it felt good.

My frenetic desire inflamed both of us. He had barely begun to thrust when we came, together. His cock throbbed and pulsed inside me even as my vagina contracted and squeezed it. I felt the welcome warmth of his semen jetting into me, deep inside me, flooding my womb. I gasped and moaned. My arms around his neck tensed with each of his spurts. He swore, over and over, as he came.

The next thing I knew I was sobbing with relief. Sly, his cock still in me, carried me over to the couch.

He lifted me off him and gently set me down. We were both panting. Tears rolled down my cheeks. But I felt that a great load had been lifted from my shoulders. I had connected with normal humanity again. It made the experience of the last few hours fade a little into unreality.

This was the first time Sly had gotten a good look at me. He took in the disheveled dress and the developing marks around my throat.

There's a lot that's not great about Sly, but he hit just the right note this time. He didn't say a word. He just poured me a stiff scotch, neat. I downed it in one swallow. He sat down next to me. I leaned into him. He waited until my breathing slowed.

His first words forever endeared him to me.

"Who was the son of a bitch? I'll kill him."

If someone else said that it might be pure rhetoric. I know that Sly meant it.

I essayed a smile through the tears. "You mean because he damaged our merchandise?"

He glared angrily at me. His next words were more typically Sly.

"You God damned stupid broad. How fucking many times have I told you?"

"I dunno," I said, very quietly. "I wasn't counting. Not enough, though, I guess.

"Sly, I'm sorry. Whatever you think of me tonight, I'm not stupid. I know there are bad people out there. But I'm not like you. I just can't think the worst of everyone I meet. I can't live like that."

"I know, Babe. That's what makes you so damn good at what you do. But you gotta understand, even the nice guys can do rotten stuff when they're with a hooker."

"But I'm not - "

"Honey, you pick up some stranger in a bar and agree to go to a hotel room with him, he's thinking with his prick, not his brains. And that don't make for fine distinctions.

"Look, Princess, you gotta decide. You quit this and go back to your normal life, and it's been a great ride and I'll see ya around, or we keep going and you trust me to keep you safe. Your choice."

Well, there he was, once again laying it on the line for me. He seemed to have an uncanny knack for putting me on the spot. I was silent for a very long time, thinking hard, remembering. Sly just stared off into space with a carefully neutral expression.

Finally, I took a Kleenex and blotted my tears and wiped ineffectually at my smeared mascara. I took a deep breath and turned to face Sly. He looked directly into my eyes.

"I'll stay."

Sly let me sleep on the couch that night. I felt secure in its familiarity. It reminded me of a number of far more agreeable encounters I'd had on it.

I needed that.