Weekend Ch. 03byCybotic©
For the second time in my life, I woke up naked. It was slow and gentle and enjoyable. I loved the relaxed comfort of being nude under the blankets, but I didn't immediately notice my lack of pajamas. I was very comfortable and I had been very tired the night before. I stretched and yawned and felt the sheets pull and slide across my skin delightfully. I opened my eyes just long enough to see that I was in Emily and Laura's bed again and that the morning sun was shining on my face. I turned away from the window, snuggled up against Emily and dozed off again.
My third nude awakening was just moments later. Emily was in bed with me! What had I done? Had I done anything? Shock flooded through me like adrenaline. I was wide awake now, but I couldn't move. I lay there with my face resting on Emily's hair and my naked body pressed against her.
Emily was not naked. I couldn't tell what she was wearing, but I could feel that her body was definitely encased in some kind of cloth. That was something, at least. As thin as the cloth was, there was at least a barrier between us. I had seen a lot in the past two days, but I wasn't ready for that level of intimacy. I wanted to thank God for small favours, but I would have been lying to Him, so I didn't.
I was refusing to admit it to myself, but I was enjoying Emily's closeness and warmth and scent. After all the things I had watched her do the night before, it was relaxing to just lie there. I even felt priviledged. Four different men had paid a lot of money to go to bed with Emily, and I was there by invitation.
I was secretly even a little disappointed that she was not naked. It would have been naughtier and this was my week to be naughty. Next week, I would stop being Crimson, the sexy sister of the erotic Scarlett. I would again be Karen, the daughter of John and Caroline. I'd go back to being meek and obedient and repressed.
It was a depressing thought and it made me very sad. Then it made me angry. Why did I have to go back to that? Why the hell couldn't I be whoever I wanted to be?
I made myself a firm promise. I would stop being afraid. This week, for the first time I could remember, I had allowed myself to make my own decisions. This was my life. It was high time I had some say in it. I would no longer be afraid of myself.
I embraced my new philosophy by embracing Emily. She snorted and mumbled something that sounded like "Graceland," but she didn't wake up. The warm sun and my newfound comfort with myself were relaxing. I fell asleep.
For the fourth time in my life, I woke up naked. Emily was awake and dressed ang gently shaking me.
"Wake up, honey. I think we're in trouble. Your sister wants to talk to us."
I sat up immediately, sleep and drowsiness gone. If I'd had a double dose of caffeine injected directly into my veins and a bucket of ice water poured over my head, I could not have been more alert. My sister had an intimidating presence.
My resolution wavered for a few moments, but held. I would not be afraid, come what may. I put on a robe that Emily lent me and I followed her into the living room.
"I had a phone call this morning," Michelle began, glaring coldly at Emily. "Mr. William Hauser wanted to thank me for sending Crimson over. I was quite surprised. I don't believe I have anyone by that name working with me. Would either of you happen to know to whom he was referring?
Michelle barely glanced at me, giving all her attention to Emily, who remained silent.
"Let me refresh your memory," my sister said, her voice dripping with anger. "Mr. Hauser, also known as the client 'Aztec' told me that he was partying with Katrina last night. During the party, the mysterious Crimson put on a little show. Apparantly, it was quite a performance. He couldn't stop raving about it. She made a definite impression. He described her act in great detail. It was a shy, amateur striptease, he told me, clearly done by someone who had never done such a thing before. It was followed by a scorching show of sensuous self-gratification performed by a real artist. The girl was a first-rate actress, he said. She really made him believe she was for real.
"Does any of this ring a bell?" Michelle said sarcastically. We didn't answer. "No? Doesn't sound even the least bit familiar? Maybe another hint will do the trick. I've got one more clue as to Crimson's identity; one final piece of the puzzle that might fill in those stubborn gaps in your memory.
"Before he hung up, Mr. Hauser reminded me that he worked in advertising. He said that referring to Crimson as my sister was an excellent marketing tool, the perfect hook for grabbing the customer's attention.
"It's amazing what you can learn from a telephone call. According to Mr. William Hauser, Senior Vice President of Modern Marketing and Research, Incorporated, I have turned my own little sister into a callgirl. I must be suffering from my own memory lapse because I don't remember this at all. I don't recall the discussion, or the decision, or the methods used.
"Emily, I'm surprised at you. First of all, we have made it a very strict rule that all parties are to be arranged beforehand by telephone, without exception. Never negotiate in person. You're just asking to be arrested. You know that as well as I do.
"Next is the matter of recruitment. We do need some more girls and we are planning to expand, but we agreed to wait until after Saturday's party to start making plans.
"Finally, how dare you bring my sister into this without asking me? You had no right to make that call on your own. What the hell were you thinking?
Emily was sitting with her eyes closed. There were tears on her face. Michelle's words always expressed a great deal more than the literal meaning. If her words were friendly, you felt so sunny and happy to hear them. When she got nasty, you felt crushed. She could make you feel like the lowest, most miserable insect that ever burrowed into a pile of shit.
I was furious with both of them. For the first time, I'd been making my own choices about my life and my body. How dare she take that away from me by assuming that Emily was responsible? I couldn't understand why Emily was just taking the abuse. She had known for a long time the freedom that I had only just begun to realize. She had had the courage to take control of her life, so where was that courage now?
"Michelle," I said calmly, impressed at my own self-control, "Shut up. You've been breaking the law, lying to your family, exploiting your friends and profiting from the needs of lonely men. You've enjoyed the glamour life by joining the lowest class of society. There is no moral high ground here. You cannot lecture us about rules and ethics when you have no respect for either. Emily didn't push me into anything last night. She gave me a choice. It's about time somebody gave me a choice. I choose the glamour life.
I was proud of myself. I sounded confident and competent. I had faced her biting sarcasm with my new sense of self as a shield. She would have to find new levels of nastiness to affect me now.
Michelle stared at me in amazement. I had never stood up to her before. Her eyes blazed with fury, but she couldn't speak. Her mouth opened and closed. She shut her eyes and took some deep breaths, trying to calm down.
"Fine," she muttered. "Aztec wants to see you both again. Tonight. Same time, same place. Full price apiece. Code word is 'white trash traitor bitch.'
She left the room. I looked over at Emily. She was still sitting there with her eyes closed and her cheeks wet, but there was a smile on her face.
"I've seen Michelle tear apart a lot of people," she said in a very quiet tone. "She embarrasses them and humiliates them and rips their egos into tiny little pieces. That's the first time I've ever seen it done to her. You are definitely her sister.
I was still irritated, but the comparison was flattering. I grabbed some clothes and went to the bedroom to dress.
When I came out, Emily invited me to lunch. Michelle was still shut up in her room and I didn't really want to wait for her to get over it. We went to a Chinese restaurant and had a long talk. Emily wanted me to be absolutely sure I knew what I was getting into. It could be a rough business if you didn't keep yourself centered.
"If you have any 'Pretty Woman' fantasies about a rich rescuer falling for you, get over them," she said. "In fact, if you have any thoughts at all about needing to be rescued, this isn't the job for you. We make very good money, but if you believe that what we do is in any way wrong or immoral or shameful or degrading, then you'll end up hating yourself and all the money in the world isn't worth that.
"What we're doing is providing a service. It may not be an absolutely essential service, but most psychiatrists have built their practices around the non-essential service of simply making people feel better about themselves for a while. That's what we really do. We give a few minutes of intense physical pleasure. We're therapeutic and therefore beneficial.
"Some of our clients are the college kids looking for a thrill and some of them are lonely men who cannot get a date. Most, however, are aging, married men who do not have the talent or the guts to have an affair. They all want a willing sex partner without the entanglements that usually go with it. A few men really will want to rescue you, and you have to discourage them gently. It isn't good for you or them to believe that such a relationship will truly work. At best, you would end up with a single long-term client who would probably try to control your every move. You can stay happy and have a good life, but only if you keep your business separate from your personal life.
After lunch, we went shopping. I'd gone with Emily on four dates the day before, and she'd negotiated with each of them for my presence. I had $720 and was eager to spend some of it. It was a lot more money than I ever had at home.
First, we bought clothes. I bought some nice clothes. I made a good start on my own callgirl wardrobe.
Next came supplies. Emily guided me to the things I would need. I needed a small purse that I could grab quickly if I had to. I needed a good basic set of makeup and hair products. I needed a good musky perfume. One customer should not be able to smell another or whether or not you'd had a shower. Finally, I needed lubricants and condoms.
These last two items were embarrassing to buy, especially since Emily insisted I wear one of my new hooker costumes when I did it. She said I needed to get used to the attention, but I knew she was enjoying my humiliation. Standing in line at the Wal-Mart in artfully torn Daisy Dukes and a denim bra was bad enough, but carrying economy size boxes of Trojans and K-Y Jelly was simply shocking to the socializing retirees who are always there.
Emily went ahead of me in line with a bag of Cheetos and a Diet Coke, pretending not to know me. As she picked up her bag, she stopped and looked me over, acting totally disgusted.
"Slut," she muttered loudly, then left to wait for me in the car. She was grinning as she exited the store.
I was left to face the reactions alone. The expression on the clerk's face showed that she agreed with Emily's description. The other people in line were looking at me with expressions of shock, disapproval and lust.
To my surprise, I wasn't embarrassed. I was through being embarrassed. I wasn't even angry. I was free. I had escaped their tiny world. I would no longer be a victim to my parents' narrow, vindictive and hateful morality. Now I was me. I left the store, proudly carrying my purchases. Emily and I laughed all the way home.
It was time to start getting ready. I took great care in choosing my outfit, selecting a lacy, light blue g-string, the first one I'd ever owned, and a matching, see-through bra. I was extremely nervous, but I was at least able to look at my reflection and appreciate what I saw without having to shut off the lights for shame. I wasn't gonna let anything intimidate me into backing out of my new plans, but it was still a scary prospect. Knowing that my first client was going to be Aztec made it just a little bit easier. He'd already seen me naked. He'd seen me play with myself. To Aztec, I was already sexy and wild.
To Emily, I was a little too sexy and wild. She vetoed the miniskirt I had planned to wear and suggested that I choose something a little more conservative, looking pointedly at a much more modest skirt lying on the bed. She said that we should look sexy, but not indecent. To the conservative management of an upscale hotel, a miniskirt was indecent. If it had been up to me, I'd have gone without underwear at all. Despite my fear, I was also very eager.
As we rode to the hotel, I let the anticipation thrill through me. I closed my eyes and remembered the lust in his eyes as he'd watched me the night before. I gave the experience to my imagination and felt his hands touching me, his fingers sliding over my bare flesh. I imagined holding his hard penis in my hands, rubbing it and watching him react. I wondered if I could do what Emily had done with the condom. I was resolved to take him into my body, to let his cock into my pussy, but I wasn't sure I was ready to let him put it in my mouth. I tried to imagine what his cock would feel like. I wondered if it would be different from Danny back home.
We got there and went through the ritual. He came down and escorted us to his room. I studied him as we rode the elevator. I imagined his body on top of me, pressing me into the mattress and pushing deep inside me. I hoped I wouldn't seem awkward. The walk from the elevator to the room was one of the longest I've ever taken in my life. It felt like the last walk of a condemned man. My innocence was going to die in that room, sacrificed to create a new and different me. As he opened the door, I took a deep breath and said goodbye to the old me. Then I walked inside.
Once the door closed, Emily started kissing and hugging him. I followed her example, but he only let me kiss him a few times before pulling away.
"No," he said, his eyes burning into me. "That's not what I want. Last night was great. You're the hottest new girl I've seen in a while, but I don't want to fuck you. I want to watch you.
He looked over at Emily. She was smiling at us both invitingly, already playing the part of 'Katrina.' He pointed at her and looked back at me. "Tonight, I want to watch you with her," he said.
I felt the blood drain from my face. My mouth was hanging open. I was terrified. This was not something I'd bargained for. That diminishing part of me that still belonged to my parents was shocked and disgusted. It wanted to throw up. I saw Emily give me a concerned glance, but then Katrina's smile reappeared.
"Don't worry," she said. "It won't be hard as you expected when you came in here. It will be nice and soft and wet instead."
Despite my fear, I laughed at the wordplay. I tried to relax and let myself adjust to the idea. I was frightened, but I was also angry at myself for being frightened. I was Crimson, Dammit! I was Crimson!
The images of Wednesday night came back to me. The sight of Emily, Laura and Michelle tumbling together in the bed had made quite an impression. I remembered my own reaction as well. The blood came back to my face in a heated flush. Maybe I could do this after all.
I took a hesitant step toward Katrina. She was not at all hesitant. She closed the distance between us and took me in her arms. She was warm and smelled good. Her arms felt nice as they held me. I was extremely aware of her breasts. They pressed against mine, moving against me. She looked into my eyes and very gently kissed me. She moved slowly, never rushing, always giving me an opportunity to stop things if I got uncomfortable.
I tried to hold off my fear. I kept telling myself, "This is my job now. This is my life." I repeated it over and over like a mantra, trying to reassure myself. Then I realized; I didn't need to be reassured.
The hands sliding down over my ass felt wonderful. Katrina's lips were soft and delightful. The arms that held me were strong and safe. I was responding with a passion I never expected. I put my arms around her and pulled her even closer. Her fingers were slowly creeping back up and taking my skirt with them. The G-string hid nothing of my rear. I felt my bare butt slowly being revealed. I was no longer afraid. I felt empowered again. Aztec was staring at my naked ass and we were both enjoying it. Katrina let the skirt drop again, covering my ass again. I missed the exposure, but my forced modesty didn't last long.
Without any discussion or decision, we had started undressing each other. Katrina stepped back a little, with her hands on my hips and started lowering the zipper on the side of my skirt. I responded by pulling Katrina's shirt off. I'm not sure if it was because the midriff-baring top was so tiny or because I was so eager, but it didn't take long to remove it. Things started happening faster then. Moving almost by themselves, my fingers were automatically unhooking her bra. Her breasts were bare and beautiful and mine to touch if I chose, but I had already started undoing her shorts. I was wearing just a g-string and bra by now and Katrina's experienced hands were working quickly to remedy that. I felt the bra being pulled off and it dropped to the floor between us, immediately covered by her shorts.
"Stop," came a hoarse whisper. "Stop for just a minute. "
Aztec had stopped us. We were both naked, except for g-strings, and he wanted something of us before we took those off.
"Please," he said. "I want to look at you. Bend over on the bed and let me look at you."
We did as he said. Hip to hip with Katrina, I leaned forward onto the mattress. Our heads rested on the blanket and our asses were thrust backward for his inspection. I was thrilled to feel his eyes on me, exploring my curves, peering at the tiny string running between the cheeks. When his warm hand touched me, where nobody's hand but mine had ever touched me before, the heat seemed to flow through my whole body, sending sensations of pleasure deep down into other untouched territories.
His hands rested on our asses for just a few, long, short moments. Then they were gone.
"Take the rest of it off now," he said, still standing close by. "Use your teeth."
I stood and faced Aztec. Katrina gracefully sank to her knees in front of me. I could feel her hot breath on my thigh. Her hands were on my waist. Her lips were on my hip. Her teeth scraped gently on my skin, gripping the fabric. One side was pulled down, but not very far. Katrina's mouth travelled around to pull the other side down just as slightly.
She went back and forth, teasing both Aztec and myself. When the g-string was hanging about halfway down my hips, she stopped tugging at the sides. Her lips slid around my waist and kissed my naval. She lowered her head and pushed her face between my legs. Her breath was heating up my pussy now. I could feel the warm humidity of her breath combining with the hot wetness leaking out of me. Then Katrina bit down hard on the crotch of the g-string. She started tugging, gently at first, but increasing her pull. She was soon pulling so hard that I nearly lost my balance when the g-string finally slipped down to my thighs. She kept tugging at the tiny blue garment until it was wrapped around my ankles. She sucked my g-string further into her mouth and nudged my toes with her nose to get me to step out of it. I stood there, completely naked now, letting Aztec look me up and down. Katrina stood up. She had a smile on her face, but it was somewhat obscured by my underwear still hanging from her mouth.