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The office party was nearly over and the handful of stragglers that remained were cleaning up the kitchenette. The counter was covered with platters of picked over food, trays of holiday treats, and dirty paper plates. The sink was full of dirty office mugs with clever, stupid, or sarcastic sayings printed on the side. “I’m here for the fun!” sat next to “I don’t do Monday’s.” All were sterile and lame.
They chatted as they cleaned, talking of their plans over the holiday break, of what holiday shopping still needed to be done, and ultimately how they’d spend too much on gifts like they did every year.
Christmas was a week away. A cold front had rolled in from the Great Lakes and had moved east. This morning’s forecast had promised a white Christmas and snow totals were already estimated to be well over a foot from Maine to Rhode Island. New Englanders were used to winter storms. A foot of snow wasn’t much to worry about.
He knew his wife loved this. She enjoyed the brisk air; that freezing air that froze the inside of your nostrils. It seemed to get colder and colder with each passing winter. He didn’t like it. Not anymore; he had lived through his share of New England winters. The bitter cold outside chilled him to his core. He longed for more temperate weather where hanging around indoors for long stretches of time wasn’t the norm. It seemed like Old Man Winter knew this and was taunting him. Just a little.
The only time the weather worked in his favor was when he could coax his wife into bed for a snuggle and maybe some hot sex. It was great when it worked, but on bitterly cold days his balls would ache and throb from the chill and they would ache doubly worse when he emptied them. Sex was his favorite hobby and he considered it a price worth paying to get some.
All he could do was hope for an early spring. She could enjoy the snowflakes while they lasted and he would bide his time. For now, he would watch for any opportunity to wrap his wife in his arms and to slowly slide his hand down her back and on to her ass, and maybe to entice her into sex. It was a fair trade off—snow for her, sex for him—occasionally followed by extra-strength Tylenol to deal with the after affect. Bring on the snow!
The company party was actually before Christmas this year; a nice change of pace. In prior years budgets and project timelines pushed it well past the holidays. Everyone was in a festive mood, the guys dressed in shiny shoes and blazers or sweaters, the ladies in holiday-themed attire. Overall he would say the party was a big success.
It was time for him to leave. He didn’t want to be late for his appointment. He walked past a few dessert trays on his way back to his office. The homemade ginger bread cookies Becky had made were delicious. Then he saw the plate of coconut cookies that Greg had brought, barely touched, on the buffet table.
Who the hell eats coconut and likes it, seriously? What a dumb-ass Greg is for bringing them.
He hated coconut. Thinking on it, maybe Greg had used coconut to his advantage. He remembered seeing him sneak out the door earlier in the evening with that easy chick from accounting. What was her name? Jeannette? Jenny? Something like that… She was pretty with a cute crooked smile and was well stacked. He had seen her eating a coconut cookie while chatting it up with Greg. Huh, good for him!
He stepped into his office and closed the door. The clock read 6:10 PM. Perfect. He was glad the boss had decided to start the party early. It gave him an easy out to leave at a reasonable time without looking bad in front of his peers.
Over the last couple weeks he had been carefully guiding events to make sure nothing could go wrong on this night. It was his Christmas present, a little something that he liked to arrange each holiday season. All day he had been getting ready for the evening’s festivities, getting into the right mindset, and running through the arrangements. His wife had the day off and when they talked this afternoon she was with the kids at her parents’ house helping Grammy make cookies. His kids were excited to show Grammy the holiday decorations they had made for her, and then they were planning to watch Rudolf and other holiday classics. That should keep them busy while his Christmas treat came to be.
It was time to confirm his appointment, grab his coat, and hit the road. He used the number he had long ago memorized. It rang, and rang again, before a woman’s voice answered in a smooth professional tone.
“Good evening, Body Spa, this is Ashley.”
He couldn’t help but smile. She sounded hot. For some reason the name Ashley conjured up images of a college bimbo working at a local café, but this woman sounded like… just that, awoman.Educated, mature,knowing,and he couldn’t help thinking that she probably knew just what she wanted and how to get it in bed. He felt his face flush a little and his heart beat a little faster.
“Hello, beşiktaş escort can I help you?” she said.
“Uh, hi,” he stammered. “Sorry. I have an, ah, appointment this evening with a massage therapist.”
“Ok, your name, sir?”
He never used his own name, and hadn’t thought about what clever name to use this evening. He winged it.
“Um… Mr… Mr. Wayne.”
“Ooookk… Mr. Wayne,” she said doubtfully. “Who is your appointment with? We’ve had a couple of call-ins this evening, and I’ll have to check to see if your therapist is in tonight.”
Shit! This was part of standard protocol. The name he gave here would decide what kind of service he received. What was the name? Krystal? Svetlana? Natasha? No, not Natasha, that was the name he gave last year.
“Sir, who is your therapist?” she said again calmly, a hint of amusement in her voice.
It popped into his head so suddenly it took him by surprise. He exhaled slowly in relief and said, “Bianca.”
“Bianca? Ah, you’re in luck. She is in this evening.”
He smiled, and he felt a stirring in his pants as his cock sensed his mood. “Excellent! I’ve really needed this massage for a while now!” he said, perhaps a bit too much excitement in his voice.
“I bet you have,” she said dryly.
He could tell that she was smirking as she said it. He grimaced. What did she mean by that? With that attitude he thought he should bend thisAshleyover her receptionist desk and plow her from behind!Merry Christmas! There’s a tip for you!But instead he chose the high road.
“Ah, ok. Where will I be meeting Bianca for mytherapy?”
“Let’s see…” He could hear her shuffling papers, he imagined from an appointment book. “She is taking customers at the Luxor. Room 613.”
“Thank you. I’ll head right over.”
“Ok, sir. I’ll tell her you’re coming. Don’t have an accident on the way over.”
“Excuse me? Are you insinuating that I’llblow itin my pants before I get there?” he asked incredulously.
“Excuse me, sir!” she said innocently. “I’m sure I don’t know what you are talking about! I was just watching the meteorologist. Temperatures have dropped below freezing and there are reports of some black ice on the city streets. I’m only concerned for your safety, as I am for all of our customers. I’d hate for you to miss your appointment.”
“Rigghht,” he said. “I’ll be careful.” He shook his head and smiled, ending the call.
The drive over to the Luxor went without incident. Cold out, yes, black ice, no. Shehadtaunted him! Bending Ashley over his knee and giving her a good spanking was sounding better and better.
He gave his car to the valet and headed up to the lobby. It was quite busy as many men were heading into the hotel by themselves. He wondered if they all had similar arrangements this evening in rooms throughout the hotel. The Luxor was considered a ritzy and formal hotel, but perhaps tonight it was more like The Bunny Ranch.If the Luxor is a rockin’…He smiled as he entered the lobby and headed over to the elevator. He pushed aside all thoughts except the reason he was here. He didn’t give a crap why all these other men were at the hotel; the only thing that mattered was in Room 613.
Reaching the elevator he pressed the ‘up’ button. The light came on and somewhere far above he could hear a faint hum. After a few moments the door slid open. He stepped in and pressed floor 6 and moved over to let in a mismatched couple. Both were smartly dressed, he in a black cut suit, she in a slinky black low-cut dinner dress. The part that made them stand out was the he was easily 30 years her senior. He had a confident air around him, with crows feet at his eyes and small liver spots on his cheeks and neck. Perhaps he was the CEO of one of the local Fortune 500 companies. He noticed a wedding ring on the man’s left hand. She had no ring and was clinging to his arm. Clearly she was an escort. She had dirty blonde hair, beautiful eyes, and a big smile that showed straight white teeth. A beauty, no doubt about it, and an evening play-toy.
He averted his eyes from the couple. This guy is a pig! I bet he had to swallow a bottle of Viagra before he came here. The ring on the man’s hand reminded him he had his own wedding ring on, so he slipped it off and dropped it in his jacket pocket. Tonight he wasn’t married, tonight was his early present! When he raised his eyes, he noticed the woman was watching him out of the corner of her eye. She had seen what he had done, and a small smile touched her lips.
The older man pushed floor 5. The doors slowly shut, and the elevator began its slow climb. He could feel pressure on the front of his pants; his cock was beginning to stir. He was wearing boxer briefs, and as usual when he got a boner in them his dick had to shift around to accommodate the expansion. He could feel it now pushing straight off to the right where it had room to grow without causing him discomfort. It seemed to beşyol escort have a mind of its own sometimes as it moved around. It amused him to think of it as a type of dowsing rod, known as a ‘water witching’ stick, able to find water, except that his stick could lead straight to hot pussy. His ‘pussy finding’ stick was certainly detecting something hot in the vicinity, and it was restless. He smiled. His wife would kill him if she knew he thought of it as such a thing.
The elevator slid to a stop at the fifth floor and the doors opened with a soft whisk. The older gentleman stepped out, young lady in tow. The man examined the plaque on the wall showing the room layout. At that moment the young lady looked over her shoulder at him briefly catching his eye, before lowering her eyes to the front of his pants. There could be no mistake. She could see his cock bulging. She knew he was hard.
Somewhere in the back of his brain he casually wondered if she could smell the pheromones that must be emanating from him. He read somewhere that women were sensitive to an aroused man. Surely she was sensing something. She raised her eyes to meet his, her eyebrows rising up and down ever so quickly, the tip of her tongue slowly licking her upper lip. His eyes were drawn to the pale skin of her shoulder, creamy smooth and without blemish. He noticed the faint aroma of her perfume: a floral, delicate scent. He met her eyes again and gave a faint smile.
The older man got his bearings and pulled the woman down the hall to the left, out of sight. His pussy finding stick didn’t react to the woman as she departed. It only had one woman in mind, and she was in room 613.
The elevator door closed and began its final ascent to his floor. He exhaled slowly. The tightness in the front of his pants had become uncomfortable and insistent. Don’t worry, he thought. I’m almost there, then Bianca will take care of you. He wondered what she would be wearing. Maybe she’d be wearing a black dinner dress like that blonde bimbo on the elevator. Maybe she’d have on those thigh high stockings he loved so much with a short skirt. He’d like that. He would enjoy exploring upwards from her feet, reaching the top of the stockings, and then on to the creaminess of the insides of her thighs… He could imagine what it would feel like, what it wouldtaste likeas he explored that region with his tongue. She’d have those little clippie things attached to the top of the stockings that would attach to her lace panties. He couldn’t remember what those things were called, and he didn’t really care. The ache in his pants was demanding attention. He reached down and gave it a little adjustment to relieve some of the pressure. His balls felt like they were kicking up production. Shit! Maybe that snot Ashley was going to be right. If he blew his load before it was time, he didn’t know what he would do. His Christmas present would be a bust!
The elevator stopped and the door slid open. He stepped out. The sign on the wall showed room 613 was to the right. He followed the corridor, passing several doors until he found it. The door was ajar, just slightly. All he had to do was push, and he would enter theKingdom of Bianca.It looked so inviting. His heartbeat quickened and he took a deep breath trying to calm himself. The ‘613’ on the door stared back at him. He had a strange feeling the door wanted to tell him something, to tell him what waited for him inside. Softly in his head he heard a voice:I am room 613. There is a beautiful woman inside.
He blinked. Did this door just talk to him? “What the hell,” he breathed. “My dick is so hard that I’m hallucinating.”
The voice again:A woman arrived an hour ago. I don’t think she’s here to sleep. I think she’s here for fucking.
He gasped at the door.
Holy shit. I’m going crazy! He could think of no other explanation.
Not wanting any further distractions from a voyeuristic, perverted door, he gave a soft, quick knock, pushed it open, and stepped inside.
He let out a long, slow breath, pushing thoughts of a talking door out of his head and surveyed the room.
The light was on in the kitchenette off to the left, as was the lamp stand by the small office table straight ahead. The TV in the entertainment center along the right wall was on, the light from the flat screen casting a mosaic of colors on the opposite wall. The sound was off and he couldn’t see what was on from where he was standing.
Between the kitchenette and the living space was a darkened hallway, where he assumed was a bathroom, and a bedroom. He listened intently for a sound. Any sound. All was quiet. Taking a few steps into the room, he peered down the dark hallway. A door opened filling the hall with light. The silhouette of a woman stood in the doorway, and beyond was a bed.
“Good evening, Mr. Wayne,” said the woman. She slowly walked toward him, looking him up and down. “Ashley called. She said you were coming.”
“Not beykent escort yet,” he whispered under his breath.
“Nothing.” He smiled. “You must be Bianca. A pleasure.”
She returned his smile. “Yes, I’m sure it will be.”
He drank in her appearance, starting with her eyes. Green. Beautiful. She wore a creamy green wig in a short bob, the sides falling below her ears and curling forward to a point. It gave her an anime-chick appeal, or maybe a bit like that bimbo Josie from Josie and the Pussycats. She had smooth light skin and a clear complexion. She wore a Santa hat, the small white pom-pom hanging off to one side.
Before his eyes could rove further south, her gorgeous feminine voice pulled his eyes up to meet hers.
“Mr. Wayne, tonight I am at your service. You’ve been given a good reference by one of my colleagues, so advance payment will not be necessary.”
“You must mean Natasha, from last Christmas.”
“Yes, she is a good friend of mine. She told me things…,” she said, trailing off.
“Really, such as?” A small smile played across his lips.
“I can assure you, Mr. Wayne, it is all good. You were given high marks, nothing to worry about.”
“That’s certainly a relief,” he said with some humor in his voice.
“Can I get you anything from the bar? I’m afraid the selection is limited, but I do have orange juice, Chambord, as well as wine.”
“OJ and Chambord sounds nice, thanks.”
He followed her to the edge of the kitchenette so he could finish his visual tour.
She faced away from him, pouring their drinks. He started with her feet. She wore black high heel shoes and she stood with her legs spread slightly apart; to say they were sexy would be an understatement. He did all he could to not come up behind her and touch her. She had on lacy black stockings that had a snaky pattern that climbed up her legs to disappear underneath the edge of a gray and red plaid pleated skirt that hung down to about mid-thigh. Each stocking had a red seam that ran straight up the back to disappear under her skirt. He liked that. He imagined them as trails that led to treasure, like the dotted line on a pirate map marking the spot of priceless booty. He couldn’t wait to see where these lines would lead.
His cock shifted again in his boxer-briefs. It knew what was coming and was on the edge of becoming completely deranged.
“Here you are, Mr. Wayne,” she said as she turned, handing him his drink.
His eyes went to her chest.
She wore a white short-sleeved shirt, fitted around the waist, showing off the subtle curve of her hips. His breath caught in his throat. There were no front pockets on her tight button down shirt, so the fabric clung tight around the curve of her breasts. She clearly wore no bra, and he could faintly see her nipples, half-hard, pressing into the fabric. The first thought that came to him was of curling the tip of his tongue around those bare nipples so he could feel them get hard from his attentions.
He blinked, shaking off the thought. “Thank you. I think I need this.” He took a swallow of the cool liquor.
As if she read his thoughts, she pushed her chest out a little, taking a deep breath, accentuating her breasts even more than they already were. The fabric between her tits became taut, bridging the gap between the perfect globes. The curves made his mouth water. He forced himself to look up after a moment. She was looking him straight in the eyes. Putting her drink down on the counter she took a small step toward him and reached up towards the buttons of his shirt.
He turned away. It was happening too quickly. He needed to look somewhere else for a minute. His whole body began to feel hot and shaky; he had to cool down or this evening would end sooner than he wanted it to.
He took another swallow of his drink, and then slowly let out a long breath. He looked up and there was the entertainment center. He immediately wished he had not. Now he could see the TV. She had ordered up some hotel porn, and it was in the middle of a hot spot. A pretty brunette was clearly in mid-orgasm as some young stud with rippling muscles held tenaciously to her hips, pounding her in the doggy position. Clearly he was not coming yet, so was continuing his frantic pace, eyes glazed, her feeble attempts to push him off unnoticed. The man was extremely well hung, and she was taking his entire length like a champ, in and out, over and over. That was certainly not what he needed to see at the moment.
Looking over his shoulder at her, he gave her a weak grin and forced himself to think of something mundane so he could settle his nerves. He thought of the yard work he had to do the following spring. There would be no avoiding re-edging the entire perimeter of the house. Thinking about yard work was his way of coping when he was getting too worked up.
After a few moments his eyes moved back to the delicious dish standing by the bar. She held the wine idly in one hand, swirling its contents slowly around inside the glass. She was watching the TV with interest. Then he noticed her other hand. She was using her forefinger and thumb to tweak her nipple. He could see the now hard nub pressing sharply through the fabric. His eyes shifted up to her face and his breath caught. She was looking at him, a smile on her small pouty mouth.
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