Parting Gift

I hung up the phone a moment ago. It was the concierge calling; my car is downstairs.

I took a long, jasmine and vanilla scented bath this morning, easing the soreness from my body. Heels are fatiguing, and Anatoly's party kept me mostly on my feet for ten hours. I ordered a lumberjack's breakfast from room service. I only taste when I hostess here; I am always ravenous by morning.

This particular car, these moments alone in the suite, they are Anatoly's parting gift to me. I have played the part of his mistress for five years, but as we speak he is on an international flight, and it's not likely our paths will ever cross again.

I collect my garment bag and my big, slouchy leather satchel. I take a long look around the room, but it's only a hotel suite. There is nothing here to be nostalgic about.

Inside the garment bag is a red dress. Anatoly liked me in tight red dresses and big hair.

To be fair, Anatoly liked me in his Armani dress shirts, but the men he entertained in his hotel suite liked me in tight red dresses and big hair. They liked my tits spilling out of my tops. They liked my bawdy laughter and glossy lips. They liked that Anatoly was willing to share.

They liked that for Anatoly, for the price he was willing to pay for my time and affection, I would be their fantasy for a few stolen moments at one of Anatoly's lavish parties. Anatoly and I had many understandings during our five-year arrangement, and this was one: if I liked, I could entertain his friends and associates in various ways, and he would reimburse me for my efforts. It made him a popular host, and greased more than a few wheels.

Just last night, a young man, a newcomer to Anatoly's circle, shyly asked me if I would consider two men at the same time. I was nursing a glass of champagne after dinner, observing the assembly. There was a diplomat and his wife, both in their sixties, a cluster of younger, hungry-looking men, Anatoly's poker cronies, several notable bankers and lawyers, a state politician, one or two other girls I recognized--every world has its own smallness.

Anatoly woke this morning full of melancholy, forgetting as he thrust into me, his big hands palming my breasts, that his feathers lined my nest. He fucked me like a soldier leaving for the front lines. I rocked my hips up to meet him, taking him in as deep as I could, wrapping my legs around his barrel of a torso and holding tight to his arms.

He stopped just as the rhythm began to take me out of myself. He could feel the muscles in my cunt flex.

He rolled over on his back, cock hard and glistening with my wetness.

"Take your pleasure, my dear. I want to watch you come one last time."

I lowered myself over him, taking him in, knees pressed into the bedding; I held him there, feeling him stretch me, fill me up. I took his hands, placed them on my hips. With one hand, I rolled my nipple between two fingertips, the other hand I slipped between us, pressing a finger to my clit.

Anatoly never took his eyes off my face.

I held myself still until it was too much. I know myself well enough. Almost as soon as I began to move, the orgasm rolled over me. I rocked myself over the edge. Anatoly bucked his hips beneath me. I dozed afterwards; when I woke he was gone. He left a note:

Take your time, darling. A car is coming for you at noon. Take the necklace to a jeweler. It's as ugly as sin, but the stones are real. Do svidaniya, A.

I opened the velvet box under the note. The necklace was far uglier than sin.

The bellman who loads the car as I am leaving Anatoly's apartment reminds of the sharp-chinned young man who propositioned me last night.

"Excuse me." The young man was deferential as he approached, like a tentative greyhound, all long muscles and quiet power. "Miss Noire. I am Val—Valentin. Anatoly tells me you are open to sometimes other company?"

"Please, Val," I said with a smile and flutter of lashes, "call me Bianca. And yes. I am." I sipped at my champagne.

When his eyes came to rest on the bodyguard who loitered by the drinks cart, I admit I was surprised.

"Would you consider ..." Here he paused. Here was a boy who loved his mother, or his sisters perhaps. He couldn't quite come out and say it to someone who looked like a lady.

"Only two?" The curve of my lips gave him permission to go on. He nodded once. I took his hand, turning it over. I stroked the fine skin on the inside of his wrist. "Come with me."

I led him to a spare room. My room, I suppose. Anatoly had no wife, and no desire for a live-in girlfriend. He liked his books and his cigar, his vodka and his peace. He kept me on a retainer to be his hostess and his lover when he needed me, and he preferred I keep a separate space for my extra-curricular activities. I brought Val through the door, stopping to almost close the door.

"Take this." I handed him my champagne flute. He looked like he needed something to do with his hands. "Set it on the dresser."

I sat on a nearby chaise, crossing my legs to reveal a glimpse of stockinged thigh and gesturing to the chair at my dressing table. Val lowered himself gingerly, unbuttoning his suit jacket and plucking at his trouser legs.

"Tell me what you want."

He drew a breath. "I want you to suck my cock while Dmitri fucks you from behind."

"Now," I say gently, "Was that so difficult?"

He laughs unsteadily.

"Text your friend. Ask him to join us." The door opened before Val cold even take his phone from his jacket pocket. Dmitri filled the doorway. He was built like a linebacker, a huge wall of muscle. I stood, smoothing my dress over my hips. "Welcome."

I gave my attention to Val who only nodded. I knew what they wanted, they needed me to make it happen.

I reached back for the zipper of my dress, but Val held up a hand. "Dmitri?"

The larger man moved behind me and pulled down my zipper, but his touch didn't linger.

I slipped the straps from my shoulders and shimmied the dress down over the black satin corset and garter I wore beneath. Val's eyes sparkled with approval. I held out a hand, which Dmitri took to steady me as I stepped out of the dress. I bent to retrieve the dress from the floor, giving them both a view of my bare ass under the garter.

Again, Val held up a hand. "Dmitri?"

The big man took the red dress from my hands and laid it carefully on the chaise. I ran a finger through my naked wetness, then sucked it clean.

A sheen of sweat broke on Val's brow. I crossed to him, unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. His cock was already hardening as I stroked him. I took his hand and led him to the bed. He knelt amidst the pillows and the downy comforter. I crawled to him, kneeling face to face with him and pushing his trousers down over his hips and his suit jacket back from his shoulders.

Behind me, I heard the clink of another belt and the easy rasp of a zipper.

Spreading my knees, I leaned over a pair of throw pillows and braced my elbows on the mattress. Val's low moan when I licked the underside of his cock was enough encouragement. With the tip of him resting on my tongue I drew him into my mouth as far as I could, letting him rub against the roof of my mouth. I sucked slowly, rolling my tongue under the head.

Val's hands dug into my hair, but he didn't pull. I could hear Dmitri working himself as I sucked. I found a gentle rhythm, using my lips to create the delicate friction I needed to keep him going. These two deserved to enjoy themselves. Val's fingers in my hair felt incredible; his cock twitched when I sighed against him.

I felt Dmitri's weight dip the mattress. Val's obvious pleasure was an aphrodisiac, and I knew I could take Dmitri whenever he was ready. His rough hands slid between the garter straps and my skin as he reached around my legs to pull my ass towards him.

He rammed his cock into me hard. The force pushed Val's cock deeper into my mouth and he groaned. I felt Dmitri swell inside me. Val reached down to flick my nipples. They were achingly tight and his touch flooded my pussy with fresh wetness.

Dmitri began to fuck me in earnest then, driving the tempo of Val's blow job. Val continued to work my tits, and the heat streaked straight to my clit. I moaned around Val's cock, sliding wetly in and out of my mouth, when Dmitri pressed a thick finger against my slippery flesh.

I let the pleasure wash over me, reveled in their strong bodies. I became a vessel of desire, filling with a thrumming, shaking need for release. Val tensed and grunted, and the two men came together. My own orgasm broke like a tidal wave as they withdrew.

It was Val who, after shrugging into his clothing again, offered me my champagne. "That was exquisite, Miss Noire." His respectful tone made me smile. I still lay over the pillows, my soaked cunt exposed, Val's juices on my lips. "Thank you, and my thanks to Anatoly as well."

Rolling over and sitting up, I took my glass. The big man was already gone. "You're very welcome, Val." I swung my legs off the bed and left him to tend to repairing my hair and cleaning up a bit. My return to the party was uneventful, except for an extravagant and knowing wink from Anatoly.

Pulling away from the hotel this morning with the velvet box in my bag, the memory sends a shiver shimmering over my skin, and I close my eyes.