The Receptionist and the Zombie

Grant was relieved that she hadn't actually needed her panic button, but what was this payday she was talking about? A bag of candy and a kiss on the cheek?

She stopped near the end of the hall, shoved a door open and they went inside a darkened room. He was greeted by the smell of rank sheets and stale beer. There was a handkerchief draped over the bedside light. A stick of incense glowed on the dresser. As he peered about the room, he heard Jane shut the door and lock it. Then she was in front of him, her secret smile fading into a bored pout.

"Do you want to do it?" she asked, facing him, her hands on his waist.

"Do what!" he stammered, confused about this game she was playing.

"Do this," she said, edging her halter top open till her hard nipples were snagged, straining to slip out.

"I guess so," he stammered, letting his fingers touch the edge of the stretchy fabric. She gave her tits a little shimmy like a stripper would do, and they popped free.

"Go ahead," she whispered. "Touch me." She guided his hands onto her breasts.

"Oh God, Jane," Grant mumbled, letting the heft of her breasts fill his sweaty hands.

"Do you like my tits, Grant?"

"I love your tits," he said, almost sobbing. He lowered his face a little - he didn't have far to go, since she was still wearing her five inch heels - and took a nipple in his mouth.

"Be gentle, baby," she whispered, cradling his head against her chest like a mother cradles her nursing baby. After a few moments she let her hand wander down his chest and into the top of his pants. Her fingers found his cock and immediately clamped tightly to the head.

"Want me to put it in my mouth?" she asked sweetly, unzipping his pimp pants and jerking them down his hips.

"I want to make love to you," Grant said, rising up to kiss her on the lips.

"No kissing baby, I'm a prostitute, remember?" She turned her head so all he got was a big mouthful of her cheek. Grant's disappointed was mediated by the feel of her hand on his cock, gently squeezing and releasing.

"Let's get naked baby," she suggested, grabbing her little one-piece dress and pulling it up over her head.

He was amazed to see that there was no thong under her dress, just a garter belt and stockings. While frantically shucking off his clothes he stared at the skinny little line where her bush should have been, wondering how a homely receptionist could have such a glamorous snatch.

"Come on baby," she cooed, laying back on the bed. She pulled her legs up into the air, her five inch heels dangling off her feet like a porn star. "Fuck me, Grant. Stick your cock in my pussy." She reached down with one hand and opened her flowery slit, while with the other she reached over and grabbed a condom from the nightstand.

Grant climbed up onto the bed, his stiff dick bobbing in the air. He'd never been with such a beautiful woman before and he could hardly wait. As he aimed his stiffy at her inviting slit, she expertly rolled the condom on with one hand.

"Oh God Jane. You don't know how long I've been dreaming of this moment."

"Just give me one more sec, baby," she told him, a hint of annoyance in her voice. She reached behind the pillow and pulled out a tube of lube. "It feels better with this stuff," she said, smearing it on his condom-clad cock.

The feel of her fingers touching him, the sight of her naked body, the smell of her sex, it was so overwhelming he was already on the verge of cumming when he slid inside her with an audible 'slurp'.

"Oh God Jane," he gasped, "it feels so good."

"I know baby, I know," she whispered, pulling him closer. "It feels good for me too. Just hold me close. Take it slow. Make it last." She clamped his torso up against hers with her legs, and then they lay together in the dim light, his dick quivering desperately deep inside her.

He nuzzled up to her neck, nibbling softly. He did want to make it last, but it was too much, the way she was holding him, the way her fingers were caressing his back, the way her mushy tits seemed to envelope his whole chest. He twitched his dick a couple more times and then he could feel it, the sting of his ejaculate spurting out of him like fire.

"That's it baby," she cooed. "Cum in me. Give me every last drop. Fill me up."

With each shudder he felt as if he was going to cry. It was so good being with Jane, it was worth the stress of watching her disappearing down the hall, tearing his heart out ten minutes at a time. He kept grinding, her hips meeting his in a slow, soothing rhythm.

"Did you like that baby?" she asked sweetly, peeling off her stockings while he tried to keep his shrinking cock inside her.

"Oh God," he whimpered, wishing his dick wasn't going soft.

She gave him a few more moments inside her and then, with a gentle nudge, she eased his hips away from hers before rolling him over to the side of the bed. He reached for her so they could cuddle, but she was already sitting up.

"Grant, honey, can you hand me that cup of ice over there on the nightstand?"

He rose up wearily, reached over and handed it to her. Then he watched as she dropped a handful of ice cubes into a washcloth, wrapped them up, and then placed the package between her legs.

"I am so... fucking... sore," she sighed, scrunching her legs together to keep the ice in place.

"Did I hurt you?" he gasped, fearing he'd just blown his big chance to win her love.

"No baby, you didn't hurt me, it was the other twenty-three guys who hurt me."

"What?" Grant gasped, sitting bolt upright. "Twenty-three guys? When?"

"Tonight, silly," she giggled, taking his hand and patting it reassuringly.

"You mean...?" He couldn't say it. He was aghast. He was heartbroken.

"That's what prostitutes do baby. They have sex with guys for money. And once the guys see this body, they forget all about getting a blow-job." She readjusted her ice pack, opening her legs for a better fit.

Grant just sat there on the bed dumbfounded. He couldn't believe how stupid he'd been. And the worst part of it was, he'd blown off Patricia for this? He closed his eyes but it didn't help. He was still the same old fool he'd always been.

"Here baby," Jane said, tossing him a plastic shopping bag. "There's twenty-three hundred bucks in there. You're cut's two hundred and thirty."

He took the shopping bag, looked inside, and then handed it back to her. "You keep it," he mumbled. "Apparently, you earned it."

"Whatever," she said, taking the bag and scooting to the edge of the bed. She gathered her dress, pulled it over her head, and stood up. "Baby? Can I have the beeper back?"

Grant didn't say a word. He climbed over the bed, found his pants on the floor, and handed her the beeper. They dressed in silence with just the rustle of his pimp clothes to compete with his labored sighs.

Finally, summoning more courage than he thought he could muster, he reached out and took her hand.

"Jane?"?

?"Yeah, hon," she answered, balling up her fishnet stockings and dropping them in the money bag.

"Would you like me to walk you to your car? Or do you want to go get a burger? Or whatever?"

There was a chilly silence. She set the bag down, took his hand in both of hers, and pulled it into her lap. "Grant, honey, this was just a one-time thing. A lark. A Halloween stunt. I mean, I'd love to have you walk me to my car, but Mr. Washburn has a limo waiting for me outside. He just promoted me, like twenty minutes ago. They're moving me to the Eastside office, and he wants to talk about logistics. Right now. So, I've gotta run honey."

She stood unsteadily, snaking a pair of black panties up her legs. Then she straightened her ho dress, grabbed the sack of money, and sauntered out the door.

After a long, aching moment, Grant gathered up the ice pack she'd left on the bed. With a sickening grunt, he flung it at the mirror and watched it scatter, leaving just his anguished expression reflecting back at him like a grotesque Halloween zombie.