The Professional Job

"So Princess, I've got an interesting job for you for next Wednesday," Sly said. "You up for it?"

Sly was sitting on the couch in his apartment, looking quite pleased with the world in general and himself in particular. My very satisfied client had just left, and he had collected a goodly fee for my services. I was coming back from cleaning up and changing back into my street clothes. I sat down in the chair opposite him.

As you may have guessed, I'm what I like to think of as a party girl (part-time), and Sly is my agent. He has other terms for our respective roles, but then he's not the most polished gem in the jeweler's window, though he does have a few other redeeming qualities. Sly it was who introduced me to this business.

To give you a very little background, we met when I was a senior in college and some other girls and I decided to explore the Village. Sly joined us and "showed us around". The result was that I did some things I wouldn't otherwise have done. Sly later showed me the incriminating evidence, which he offered to sell to me. When I said that I couldn't raise the kind of money he was demanding, he offered to let me work it off by putting out for him and some other guys whom he said would pay well for my services. I didn't have much choice. It took more than a few sessions to work off his fee, during which time I discovered to my amazement that I had a talent for the work and actually rather enjoyed it. Too, somehow during the weeks of my indenture, and despite the fact that we come from totally disparate backgrounds, Sly and I had developed a grudging respect for each other. So, when after my 'debt' was paid off he offered me a more permanent arrangement, I took him up on it. I'm not dumb, though: I kept my day job as a copywriter for a law firm in the city. Hence the 'part-time'.

We've been at this for a while now, and we've developed a pretty good working relationship, and it has been quite profitable for both of us. So, when he said he had an "interesting job" for me, I listened.

I guess I was feeling pretty good about the rather satisfactory job I had just done on my client, and maybe even still wrapped in the pleasant warmth of a couple of really good orgasms, because I missed the hint of irony in his voice. Nonetheless, I knew from experience that Sly's definition of an 'interesting' assignment and mine did not always agree.

"I'm not sure I like the term 'interesting'," I said, rather dubiously. "But I'm listening."

"Ok. The guy is a bit of a geek. He does something with computers on Wall Street. All I know is that it pays good. He probably makes more in a day than you or I do in a month. So, the pay for this one is great. We're talkin' upwards of five hundred or more, if you do him good."

"Mmm. So far so good. Incall or outcall?"

"Out."

"Sly," I said, "you know I don't like outcalls. Risky. I prefer working on our own turf and having you in the next room if anything goes pear-shaped."

"I know, Babe," he said reassuringly. "I met this guy in person and laid out the terms. And the circumstances are such that it has to be in his own apartment. He knows he's got to make it worthwhile. And he knows what'll happen to him if he damages you. Anyway, you've done a couple of outcalls before, and they've worked out fine, haven't they?"

"It's still my ass on the line, not yours."

"Quit worrying. That's my job. I ain't gonna risk you or your cute little ass. Worth too much to me."

How touchingly sweet. My knight protector. But at least I knew he was being honest. Besides, he called my ass 'cute'. That was sweet.

"One other detail," he said with a grin. "It's a costume gig."

"Oh shit," I said. "I'm not dressing up in some damn cheerleader outfit again. I looked ridiculous!"

What is it about guys and dress-up? Why do they need the pretense to get it on, sometimes? What's wrong with a good, old-fashioned fuck?

"No cheerleader," Sly said. "You're gonna be a professional. You oughta like that. And hey, you looked great in that cheerleader outfit."

"Mmm. Maybe. What kind of professional?"

"Guy wants a nurse. He likes to pretend he's sick and needs special treatment."

"Interesting. What kind of 'special treatment'? Did he say?"

"Nope. He left it up to you. So be creative."

I do like a challenge.

Wednesday was a miserably cold and rainy day. The night was no better, just windier. I stopped at Sly's to change into the nurse's uniform he had gotten. Just where he had gotten it, he wouldn't say. But it was sexy as hell, and Sly finally has my dimensions down pat, so it fit every curve. White high heels, sheer white nylons topped with lacy elastic bands, a tight white skirt of modest length but with a slit up the right side, nearly transparent white nylon bikini panties and a tight-fitting white blouse (with very few buttons) over a lacy white bra that hooked in the front. The bra was one of those underwire pushup things. No one's ever faulted my natural cleavage, but what it did for me just had to be illegal. I loved it!

I was glad it was cold out so I could wear an overcoat over the outfit. I wouldn't dare be seen on the street in it for fear of being arrested or raped (or both).

Despite Sly's assurances, I was nervous as I took a cab to the address he had given me. It didn't help that the cabby nearly had an accident because he spent more time looking in the rear-view mirror than at the street. He got a lousy tip, but left smiling.

It was a very expensive apartment house in midtown. Doorman and all. Classy doorman, he didn't crack a smile when I told him who I was here for. He just called up and got the okay and escorted me to the elevator. I guess there had been other 'nurses' before me. Actually, that wouldn't be too bad. I'm competitive by nature, and I'm pretty confident of my abilities. Like I said, I like a challenge.

I knocked on the door. There was a pause while I was being checked out through the spy hole, and then the door opened, and I almost fell back in surprise. The person who opened the door was a woman!

If Sly screwed up the sex of my client, I was going to kill him. I mean, it's not like I hadn't made it with a woman before, but it was not my first choice, and he should have warned me so I'd've prepped a little differently. Sexy for a guy is not always sexy for a woman, if I'm saying anything profound.

"Please come in," she said. In the light of the doorway she turned out to be attractive in a mousy kind of way, with a clear complexion and dark hair cut fairly short. My first thought was what I could do with that kind of complexion; she, on the other hand, was not going to boost the stocks of Sephora by much. She met my eyes briefly and then only occasionally as we talked. Otherwise, she addressed herself to my waist or to a nearby wall.

"You must be here for my husband," she said. "That man, Sly, sent you?"

It took me several seconds to find my voice. I wasn't sure what to expect next.

"Yes," I managed. What could I say?

"I gather from your expression that Sly didn't give you all the details," she said. "Please understand that I love my husband, but he has rather idiosyncratic tastes in sex, and I am not willing or able to indulge him in many of them. That's where you come in. I don't mind; it keeps him happy and frees me. I look on it as just hiring another professional like a doctor or psychiatrist."

Well, at least she used good examples. She could have said 'dog walker', I suppose.

"I think I understand," I said, giving her my most reassuring smile. Personally, though, I couldn't imagine that under similar circumstances I'd ever be as generous as she was. l really was trying to be understanding, but at the same time I was beginning to feel ambivalent, almost angry at her. I couldn't figure her out. Had she sold herself in a Faustian bargain for riches and security and was now doing anything to keep them? Or did she really love her husband and was just trying to preserve some personal dignity?

Whatever. She hadn't hired me to pass judgement on her, but for me to have sex with her husband. I needed to be professional.

"May I meet your husband?"

"Certainly. And thank you for understanding. Here, let me take your coat. I see that it's quite wet out there."

She took my coat. She looked me over very carefully. By now I'm used to being inspected before an encounter, but generally by guys. This was a little different. However, I must have passed inspection, because she smiled, though a little wistfully, I thought.

"May I say that you are a very beautiful woman," she said. "You have a gorgeous body, and that costume fits you very well. You also seem to be quite intelligent and a cut above the others who have been here. Gregg is going to be most happy."

She led me back into the apartment, past a very elegant modern living room mostly done in stark black and white with a few mostly gold accents in lamps and vases. Not really my style. She pointed to a door down the hallway.

"That's our bedroom, or for tonight, Gregg's 'sickroom'. Just knock and go right in. I'll be waiting here when you and he are done. Oh, and here's your fee. Is this correct?"

It was. Oh boy, was it!

She turned without a further word and went back to the living room. I was glad she wasn't coming in with me. As detached as she seemed to be, I didn't think watching me and her husband having sex would be all that pleasant for her. Besides, this way I felt freer to use my talents as I saw fit.

I knocked on the door.

"Come in," said a voice from inside.

I entered and saw a man lying under a dark silk sheet on a king-sized bed in a very nicely appointed modern bedroom. It didn't look much like a sickroom to me. The man, Gregg I assumed, was propped up on pillows. The part of him that was not under the sheet was naked. He was good-looking, probably in his late thirties. He most certainly didn't look sick. No surprise there, I suppose.

He looked me over very carefully. Clearly, he liked what he saw.

There was a chair near the bed, facing the 'patient'. I sat down and crossed my legs, making sure that the slit in my skirt opened, exposing my legs all the way to the lacy tops of my stockings. I have long and nicely shaped legs, and when artfully exposed they're useful to get guys thinking what I'd like them to think.

I introduced myself and we exchanged greetings. He could hardly take his eyes off my legs long enough to look up, and then mostly at my chest. So far so good.

Time to start my role. I got up, came closer to the bed, and leaned over as if I were examining him. I gave him a good look at my augmented cleavage. "How are we today?" I asked in my most professional voice. Seems to me that nurses always say 'we'.

"Oh, the usual," he said with a weak grin, his eyes still fixed on my breasts. "But I have to confess something to you. I've been very bad; I haven't followed the doctor's orders or taken my meds. I hope you don't have to punish me." He was looking at me through downcast eyes.

Punish him?? Doctor? Oh. I might not be the sharpest pencil in the box, but nobody's ever accused me of being dumb. So that's the way it was to be, eh?

"Oh yes," I said. "If you've been a bad boy, you'll have to be punished. Doctor's orders, you know. What shall it be?" I figured I should let him take the lead here.

"The last nurse spanked me." He said with a knowing grin.

"Very well, then. I shall have to do the same. You know, though, spanking is hard work. I'll have to take off my blouse, if you don't mind."

He graciously agreed, and watched hungrily as I slowly unbuttoned my blouse and peeled it off.

"Now you roll over on your stomach like a good boy." I was kind of getting into this. Once he was over, I peeled down the sheet to expose his ass. No surprise, he was naked.

I whacked his ass a couple of times with my hand.

"That hardly hurt," he said. "You'll have to do better."

Okay by me. I gave him a couple of good, solid whacks. I wondered what his wife thought of the noise.

"Much better," he said. "I promise I'll be good."

"I hope so. Oh, look. Now you've gone and gotten me all sweaty. Here," I said, "just feel the sweat on my breasts."

He partly rolled over and I guided his hand to where my breasts swelled over the bra. I helped him roll the rest of the way over. I could see his growing erection out of the corner of my eye.

"Still too hot," I said. "You really made me work hard. The least you can do now is to take my bra off and lick some of the sweat off my breasts."

He complied with alacrity. As soon as he liberated them he rubbed his hands over my breasts, cupping them and squeezing and kneading them in a delightful way, dwelling on my nipples. This was really getting to be fun! I do like my work.

I leaned over and let him take my right nipple into his mouth. Out of the corner of my eye I watched his cock stiffen. My nipples were responding nicely as well.

"Oh my," I said, now looking directly as his prick. "You have tumescence." Hell, I didn't know if he knew the word or not, but it sounded clinical to me. "Now that's something we can treat. You just lie back, and I'll deal with it. No need to concern the doctor.

"First, though, I'll have to examine it more closely before I can make a full diagnosis." Was I great at this stuff or what? Sometimes I think I should have majored in drama instead of English.

With that I reached down and gently grasped his member. I heard the intake of his breath. I stroked it a few times, and then bent down to kiss the tip, casually letting my breasts brush over his abdomen. My tongue gently probed the slit. I could taste his pre-cum. I slid my mouth down over him until I had a couple of inches of cock inside my mouth. My lips, lubricated by his pre-cum, slid easily over the bulbous tip and firmly embraced his shaft. That felt pretty good. He was all warm and firm, and I could feel his cock pulsing on my tongue and getting stiffer.

For a moment I was sorely tempted to take him all the way, and I doubt he would have objected. I do enjoy bringing a man to a shuddering climax with my mouth, listening to him groan in helpless ecstasy while feeling his cock throbbing on my tongue and the hot, salty manifestation of his desire spurting into me. I get a heady sense of accomplishment, (and, if I'm being honest with myself, a frisson of raw power). Truth to tell, I was getting pretty hot thinking about it. But then my professional ethos kicked in, and, remembering how much this guy was paying me, I felt I needed to prolong this a bit more. Besides, the intensity of the ultimate release is always enhanced by a well-crafted buildup.

I risked a couple of gentle sucks on his cock and then reluctantly pulled off him.

"Well," I said, a bit more huskily than I had intended to, "you don't seem to be responding to treatment. We're going to have to be a bit more aggressive."

I stood up and pretended to be having trouble with my skirt.

"Damn," I said. "It's stuck again. I could use some help." He sat up. I couldn't help but notice that all pretense of his 'sickness' had vanished. I knew he was all mine from here on.

He fumbled with my skirt and finally managed to unsnap it. It slid to the floor, and I stepped out of it. I climbed onto the bed. I gently pushed him back onto the pillows and straddled him. I left my heels on, knowing how sexy guys found them (they make me feel sexy too). Through the thin nylon of my panties, I could feel his hard cock throbbing against my pussy. He let go of my breasts long enough to run his hands up my thighs, sliding over the silky tops of my stockings, and over my waist. Then it was back to my breasts,

I braced myself on his chest and raised my pelvis up from him. I guided his hand to my crotch.

"These panties always get in the way of this cure," I said. "Here, just hold the middle part off to one side for a moment."

He did. I thrilled at the feel of his fingers on my sensitive labia. In his motions the back of his hand grazed my clit, and I involuntarily gasped. To hell with acting, I wanted that big stiff cock inside me, and I wanted it now! I reached between my legs and grasped it. I lifted it and positioned its head at the opening of my vagina and then lowered myself onto him. We sighed simultaneously as he slid into me. Oh God, it felt good in there. So warm and pulsing in time with his heartbeat, filling me, stretching my sensitive flesh. He pushed up as I came down, and I spread my legs as much as I could, so he could get really deep into me. I thought I could feel the head of his cock pushing against my cervix.

I was moaning, now, and his hands kept sliding up over my hips and waist, landing on and fondling my breasts and then back again. I started moving up and down on him, faster and faster. He raised his head, following my every movement with wide eyes. He gripped my hips with the strength of his passion, guiding and reinforcing my movements. Up and down, twisting, forward and back. My breasts were dancing to the rhythm of our fucking. My eyes were closed, and my mouth was open, trying to keep up with my breathing. All thoughts of role-playing went out the window. I had only one goal, now, to feel that wonderful fire course through me. Only a tiny iota of professionalism remained, struggling to remind me that my primary job was to pleasure the client. I had to hold my own gratification off until he came.

His powerful life-giving cock grew and stiffened inside me, stretching the walls of my vagina. I could feel his orgasm gathering. His abdomen contracted. He gave a deep and heartfelt groan and abruptly released inside me, deep in. I felt the initial throbbing and then the marvelous gush of his warm fluid into my depths. His cock swelled and twitched against my clit with each new spurt. Good God, he was ejaculating directly into my womb! I let go of any restraint, my body responded, and I lost all touch with the external world for a while. I could feel my vagina contracting, milking him. I pressed my pelvis hard into his, trying for the last millimeter of penetration. I knew I was squirting all over him, my own fluids mingling with his copious discharge, flooding me and him at the same time, soaking the sheets. It was wonderful.

For long seconds after we both had finished, we remained entangled. My mind reluctantly came back from wherever it had gone. Our breathing slowed. I smiled down at him. I could feel him deflating inside me.

I raised up and rolled off him. His cock slid out of my pussy and wilted to one side. Resuming my professional persona, I reached for a towel someone had conveniently left beside the bed and wiped him off. Then I stood up and used the towel to catch the last of his semen as it drained out of me.

"I'm pleased to say that I think the cure for your tumescence worked," I said, still a little breathlessly. "I think that I can give the doctor a very good report."

"You're right," he said. "I feel much better now. Please tell the doctor how happy I am with his new nurse."

"Thank you," I said. With that, I got dressed again. Enough of my professionalism remained to remind me to do that slowly and sensuously, fondling each article of feminine clothing, making a show of reluctance to cover up the good parts. Guys enjoy a reverse strip tease when it's done right, almost as much as the taking off part. The crotch of my panties was still pretty damp, but I'd have to live with that for now. Oh, what we women have to put up with!

Giving Gregg a last, lingering smile, I left. His wife was waiting outside. In all the preceding I had forgotten about her. I think I blushed.

"Please," she said, "don't be embarrassed. I could tell from what I heard that you did a very good and professional job. I'm happy for my husband. Thank you. If you wouldn't mind, please have a seat for a moment. Is there anything I can get you?