This Is Who I Am, This Is What I Do

I watched his hips rising to meet his hand and I gasped as a second orgasm shook me. "Finish for me Andy! Where would you want to cum Andy? If you were here, where?"

"Inside, inside." And he came, semen spattering his stomach and chest. "Thank you, Andrea, thank you so much."

"So special, Andy, so special."

He lay back and looked at me. You are worth every single penny."

That's right. He paid for this. He paid for this, because this is what I do. We tarried a bit, no rushed goodbye, but we said little, content in each other's company. Finally, it was time to go. My phone dinged. "Let's do something like this again soon, okay?"

"Yes, let's, Andy. I loved our time together." Then we disconnected and I was alone.

Suddenly the reality of tomorrow crashed down on me. After this almost perfectly romantic evening, I had to go to NYC and have sex, or something at least close to sex with a stranger. Yes, he was sweet, or seemed to be, but it would not be this. I looked at the computer. I could return Tarik's money right now, and then drive over to Andrew's. What would he do if I drove up? Maybe sweep me into his house and I could curl up next to him and sleep. But what if he said no? I could hear him saying, "I thought from our conversation we were clear on where we stood."

No, Andrew would never be so harsh, but he might say no. However, he might say yes, and he would not reject me utterly, at least I seriously doubted it. If I knew he said yes, I would....I would...

I would never know if I could do to Tarik what I can do to Andrew. I would maybe never know that feeling of power and control as I take a complete stranger. I wanted to know that. Maybe it is not just what I do, but is also who I am.

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"Val, that's who you are right now, but it is not who you are period." Amy was staring out the window and I straight ahead at the road ahead, both of us avoiding eye contact. It was the next morning and we were on our way to NYC. "You either want this or you don't. Forget your parents and the lies, and I know that is a lot of forgetting, but what else is exactly your problem? So you want a different relationship with Andrew, and he is happy with the way things are. Is that so much about your profession or the story of every relationship throughout all of history?"

"But I think he doesn't want to change, because of what I do." I slapped the steering wheel.

"And it has nothing to do with the fact that he is your uncle and has been perving on you since god knows when, which is why you got into this thing? I wonder how he even got it up looking at you naked knowing full well that you would not have even been doing it if he hadn't been masturbating to his stolen pictures of you."

"Fuck, Amy, Really? He did feel guilty and then he saw me enjoying it and profiting from it, and so much of the profit is because of him. Not just what he paid, but the scholarship and the help getting the business started. He paid his dues and he watched me grow."

"You really think he felt guilty and now feels assuaged?" She looked at me, curious.

"He cried in private, apologized to me in the privacy of his own bedroom, thinking himself totally alone. He felt guilty alright."

"Granted, but not anymore, huh? Well, I guess there was no disguising your enjoyment in the moment and the money you paid me was real enough."

"But Amy, I just want it to be simple, or simpler. I think he doesn't want to see me because he still does feel guilty. I think he feels he has to pay, because he started me in this.

"Do you think he is okay sharing you?"

"Uh, I don't know. I really don't know."

Amy was staring at me hard, I kept glancing at her, but also, due to the deep desire not to run us off the road, kept most of my attention in front of me. "And are you okay being shared?"

"Part of me would want it to be just me and him, or me and someone. Damn it, I have to remember I don't even really know Andrew all that well. He's right, this is all fantasy. But just me and someone would be nice, but that might be hard in this line of work." I glanced at Amy, "I wouldn't do this for free and most people don't love all aspects of their job."

"I do still wish you would quit, but the money sure is nice."

"Yeah, and your cut of my money sure is nice. You are a damn good manager for someone who wants me to quit."

"Val, I will always have your back, even when you do stupid shit. I am like that guy whose drunk friend starts a fight in a bar and the guy reluctantly drags himself off his stool to go get his ass kicked alongside his friend."

"Wait, ass kicked, you made like $6,000."

"Yeah, well, it is a lot of work. I think I earned it, and you at least can trust me." Amy stopped staring at me and gazed off into the distance. "You are making a lot of money, but there are a lot of balls in the air; without me some would have dropped already, but I don't know how long we can keep up this juggling act." She laid a hand on my knee, "I love you my friend, but this is some fucked up shit."

"Well, my parents are the real problem, especially my dad. If that could be solved, then a lot of those balls are not a problem anymore." I nodded my head.

Amy let out an exasperated sigh, "Same conversation and the same damn passive voice. You have to solve it. You have to talk to them and you need to do it before they find out on their own."

"But what happens if my dad totally loses it?"

I could feel Amy's eye roll even if I could not see it. "So there is a car hanging off of a cliff with a little kid in it. The car is slowly slipping and it will fall. Grabbing the car, even touching the car, might send it over the cliff. You are standing there and not doing anything!!" At this point she was almost yelling. "If you don't do something you lose control and if you don't do something that whole car will go off the cliff!

"Your dad loves you and you know this will break his heart; you know it! You feel guilty about it, so you keep piling the lies on top which just makes the guilt worse. The only reason you won't start the conversation is because you know what it will do to him. And, no, there is no magic way to have that conversation and no matter how long you delay you are never going to have a better answer.

"And no, I don't think the money will matter that much. Do you really think it will?"

I felt her eyes on me again and my vision blurred a bit from tears forming, "Probably not, Amy, probably not, but it might. It is the only chance I have. No matter what, I think he is going to hate me. Whether I start the conversation or he finds out on his own or if I have a lot of money in the bank. Maybe the real reason I am avoiding this is so I can enjoy my dad's love and company for as long as I can."

"So we now have determined the price of a father's love," Amy whispered.

"Fuck you Amy, you know that is not fair. When this all started, what was I supposed to do? I was trying to protect my damn uncle and my fucking dad, because my dad loves his brother. Do you think paying the blackmail would have worked? They would have kept pushing the price up, and if my dad saw them...There were pictures of me that only Andrew or my family could have taken. If my dad saw those, he would have exploded. Once the blackmail had started, I did not have a lot of good answers left, and I did the best I could." I wiped tears from my eyes so I could drive.

We drove in silence for a while. When she spoke, it sounded as if she had been crying too. "I'm sorry Val. I'm sorry. I just hate this, and I hate you being in this. I don't want it to be this way. I want to be hanging out with you at my apartment stripping down a computer instead of helping you strip down on camera and do whatever else you do. We made pretty damn good money that way, and it was so not complicated. I like 'not complicated', at least when it comes to all this people stuff. Complicated code and hardware, love that."

I laughed through tears. "Yeah, complicated code and hardware. I so so so did not plan this, and I refuse to feel guilty about what I do. No one is getting hurt, at least not yet. As for my dad, and my mom too, I don't have an answer, so I am going to enjoy the days I have. I would not want desperate measures if I had a cancer with a survival rate under 10%. I would just enjoy the days ahead of me."

Amy nodded slowly. "Hell of a good analogy. One hell of a depressing analogy. I'm sorry, Val, really. We will see how much time we can buy you. Let's find a place for lunch. Lunch was meh, but we kept the conversation over lunch and for the rest of the drive light hearted.

We parked in the Manhattan garage I had prepaid for after a four hour drive through pretty heavy traffic and grabbing our suitcases, we found our way to the hustle and bustle of the street, I had been to NYC a few times, but the plethora of people and activity was always a bit of a shock. We parted ways with Amy headed straight to the hotel where she would check in and get her hardware setup along with the private Wi-Fi network for the mics. I headed over to the restaurant. I took a seat at the bar and paid a ridiculous amount for a drink. It was a small place, and intimate. I checked with the maitre d to find out which table would be ours. He indicated it. The table was easy to see from the bar from where Amy would keep watch.

I looked at the table. The Italian restaurant was very pricey and had considerable space between tables. The smells of garlic and Italian spices stirred my appetite somewhat, but the butterflies that filled my stomach mitigated that somewhat. Dark wood paneling covered much of the walls and the floor had a thick green carpet. It would go well with my outfit, but it must be a bitch to clean when someone spills marinara sauce all over it.. Our table was in one corner near the back. It was fairly spacious for a two person restaurant table, but we would be very close to each other. In four hours I would be in the chair facing the door, probably a candle lighting my face, waiting for him to walk in. I had thought of waiting at the bar, but I wanted to be able to see the restaurant, Amy, and the door.

I spent about an hour, and a silly amount of money on two drinks, but I tipped the bartender and the maitre d exceptionally well even by their lavish standards. Neither would be there, but I did hope they would mention me to the next shift. Carrying my suitcase, I headed out into the chilly March afternoon. After a short walk, I arrived at the small and exclusive hotel, Lotte. I was treated like a queen, which was quite strange for me. I am sure the staff knew right away that I was new to this type of hotel, but they were kind, in part I am sure, to my generosity. They escorted me up to the corner tower suite and made sure I knew where everything was and that I had all I needed.

The suite was two rooms, beautifully furnished with windows along two walls of the living room and the short wall of the bedroom. There was also both a small and well appointed entry hall and a bathroom. A long white L-shaped couch was along one wall of the living room, with a small end table at one end. There was also a comfy armchair at the other end of the couch and four slightly smaller chairs about a small round wood table.

I set up the Wi-Fi mics and made sure both were well hidden. On our private Wi-Fi network Amy and I tested that both mics were responsive to her commands as well as my voice. With that done I sat on the bed. I had three hours. For a half hour I just rested and tried futilely to clear my head. Finally I showered and laid my clothes out on the bed: Forest green lace brazier and panties, cut in the same style as the red ones, black stockings and garter belt made up my undergarments. The forest green sleeveless blouse and matching blazer and a calf length black silk skirt with a forest green floral print made up the rest of the clothes. Finally calf length brown leather boots, soft and supple with a decorative buckle on the outside and a zipper on the inside.

I showered, taking my time, luxuriating in a fancy shower head. Then after drying off, I put on the brazier and panties and did my hair in a short French braid. After my makeup was done, similar to last night, but with green highlights for the eyes and no blush, I slipped my stockings and garter belt on, taking the time to pull the straps under the panties, so stockings and garter belt could stay on after I was otherwise nude. Then I dressed the rest of the way. Finally, I admired my work. I did love the overall outfit, but I especially loved the way the skirt's end just brushed the tops of the boots so with each step or spin my stockings flashed black below the green border of the black skirt. I tried the blazer open and closed and went with buttoning the two gold buttons. I did not wear the vest that went with the blazer. Aside from head, neck and hands, I showed no skin. Even the neck was mostly concealed beneath the choker collar of the blouse and the blouse had no cutouts on the front.

Lastly, I put on gold earrings, a gold bracelet and a matching watch. None of the pieces were terribly expensive, but they paired well with the outfit and, after all, I did have some spare cash. I relaxed for a few minutes, only a few, and then grabbed my small purse, black with a fine gold chain, and the pricey gray wool winter jacket I purchased for this trip and left for the restaurant.

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The sky was dark and the air was cold; I walked briskly to stay warm and also now that I had started I did not want to stop. The restaurant was only a few blocks away, two uptown and one crosstown, so it only took me five minutes. I arrived and a handsome young man took my coat and the maitre'd, a new one, welcomed me and took me to my seat. People around me were well dressed, but even in their crowd I stood out. I felt eyes on me, some annoyed women and more appreciative men. I sat and the waiter offered me a drink. I scanned the room and saw Amy at the bar, dressed to fit in comfortably, but not stand out. No look of recognition passed between us. I sipped my Drambuie, apparently no one proofs at a restaurant like this, and waited. It was a small restaurant, so there was not a lot of coming or going, but I looked over everyone who came in. The clock reached seven and a young man, maybe early thirties, walked in and scanned the room. I started to smile at him as I appraised him, but a woman at the bar caught his eye and my eyes went back to the door.

I sat through five minutes of eternity. Then at 7:07 PM he entered.

I immediately noticed two things. First was that he was massive. Standing at maybe 6'6'' tall, there was nothing thin about him. His broad arms and shoulders belonged under shoulder pads, but instead were inside of a beautiful and well cut double breasted suit. The classic fit suit was black with gray pinstripes and a shawl lapel. He may have had some fat tucked away under that suit, but in it he looked powerful. Underneath the jacket was a white shirt and broad red tie done up in a double Windsor.

His presence, like his size, dominated the room and all eyes turned to him. He gave a half nod to no one in general. The maitre'd started to approach him, but the man looked past him scanning the room. When he spotted me he tipped the maitre'd and strolled over. He had no outer coat to check.

As he started to approach I gave a soft smile and took in his face as I rose to my feet. He had a dark full beard, neatly trimmed coming maybe an inch below his chin, but otherwise kept tight to his face. His light coffee colored cheeks were bare and his nose broad. Dark eyebrows topped deep dark brown eyes. His short hair was somewhere between wavy and curly with the sides shaved quite short. His neck was broad and powerful.

He offered a slow somber nod to my smile and rested his hands on the back of the chair at my table. "Andrea I presume?" His voice was deep, almost bear-like, and even when spoken softly it demanded attention.

I nodded and extended a hand. "Yes. Tarik, it is a pleasure to meet you in person. Please sit." I felt awkward and nervous. I was not sure what he would do with my hand, so I extended it somewhere between flat for a kiss and to the side for a handshake. Both of his hands gently engulfed mine, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. I followed my hand up on its long journey to his lips. My head did not even reach his shoulders and my sternum was just above his belt buckle. He could, without any effort, hold both my wrists in one hand

We sat down and the waiter approached. As he arrived at our table, Tarik asked me if I wanted another drink. I quietly shook my head and he turned to the waiter, "A double of Macallan, neat." The waiter gave us menus and silently left.

Feeling awkward and self conscious, I wondered what on Earth would have brought him here. I fumbled for words and this tumbled out, "I know you told me not to feel guilty, but this was so much money."

His lips, framed by his neatly trimmed beard, frowned. "Andrea, listen carefully to what I have to say for it is the last time tonight I expect to talk about money. I would guess you grew up upper middle class in the U.S.A., yes?" I nodded and he continued, "Let's say tonight when all added up cost me $90,000 U.S. Last year I made over $90 million U.S. and, this year, expect to make about the same. That is a nine with seven zeros after it. So tonight will have cost me 1/1000 of my annual income. Pretend your upper middle class family makes $200,000 U. S. Take four zeros off of their income and you are left with $20. So me spending $90K is like your family spending $20. These are all things I do not want to talk about as it all sounds like bragging. However, forget about the money. I don't care. Now, no more talk about money."

I nodded, speechless. His drink came; he took a sip and then a second sip. Finally, he broke the silence, "You are very quiet" I nodded. He chuckled, but he did not sound amused. "Still quiet."

"I...I just don't know what to say," I stammered.

He nodded, saying matter-of-factly, "This really is your first time doing something like this."

I played with my drink glass, breaking eye contact, whispering "Yes, I have never done anything like this before."

"Relax," he said in a low, almost purring voice. I know what I have been promised and what has not been promised. This is not a moment for you to fear. Just be who you are, and no need to hide. Tell me what you are thinking about right now."

I sighed. "Why me? That is what I am thinking. You could probably have anyone at all, so why me? Why someone offering so little and someone who has nothing else to offer? Don't get me wrong. I know I am pretty at least by many standards, but there are a lot of pretty girls, and a lot of pretty girls who would promise to do a lot more for a lot less."

He nodded slowly in thought. Then the low rumble that was his whisper answered, "I am wealthy and I am powerful. In my business and in much of my life, I expect to get what I want." So he did expect to get what he wanted, regardless. This was about conquest. A look of horror and revulsion must have crossed my face, because he put a hand up and waved it side to side, "No, no, no, taking you or making tonight go the way I expect would ruin everything. Tonight I want the unexpected. I want to not know what happens next. The women that I know and many of the women I have paid for will do everything I want, and that can be nice. Yet, not tonight. Tonight I get true mystery."

I looked at him carefully, "So you are looking to surrender power for the night?"

He laughed, "Surrender power? No, I have no desire to be submissive or for you to mother me. If I were into such kinks, I would have mentioned it. I just want to spend the night with someone unaffected by that power. Imagine this is like a date. Maybe not a first date, for we know each other a bit in some ways. Or maybe a first date after we had chatted online for some time. I surrender none of my power over you, because I have no power over you to surrender. You feel no more obligation to me than someone who has bought you a drink or two. We spend time together and see where the night leads us."