I was talking to a co-worker one day and she mentioned something about maids offering special services to guests at the hotels they worked in. And of course, with my mind in the gutter, this one shot was formed.
Some of you may ask if I plan to continue it, and the answer is simply, I don't know. It's the busiest time of the year for me at work, so I'm even surprised that I could get this much out.
Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think.
This has not been beta'd, so please don't go pointing out every mistake and grammatical flaw.
SM doesn't own this one. She has her own.
"Whitlock, Eric called a moment ago. He said to take that stack of towels to room sixty-nine!" Mike yelled.
I slammed my locker shut and turned to face him, grimacing in disgust as he hitched his navy blue polyester uniform pants up over his protruding stomach. The bottom two buttons of his shirt refused to meet across the expanse of his gluttonous flesh and the two inches of hairy, sweaty skin was all I could focus on when I looked at him.
"I just clocked out, Mike. I've gotta get home to—"
He looked up from the clip board he was writing on at me with a sneer on his face, double chins swaying. There was a spot of what looked like strawberry jelly stuck in the left corner of his mustache and a white powdery ring around his lips. Looking at him, I vowed never eat another jelly doughnut in my life. He made me want to vomit.
"I'm sorry, did I ask you your opinion?" he snapped.
Mike Newton was one of those people who had nothing going for them outside of their barely above minimum wage job and thought his title of 'Staff Supervisor' meant he could say and do anything he wanted to those who worked under him. He usually didn't bother me, knowing I wouldn't stand for his shit, but here lately he must have remembered that as a man, he had a set of balls, and had been testing my patience with his orders.
"Did I say, 'Jasper, tell me your thoughts on the order I just gave you?' No, so getcha ass up to room sixty-nine with those towels!" He walked off toward his office, murmuring, "If the damn maids would do their job, we wouldn't have so many fucking towel runs." He turned around to add, "And fix the light in the bathroom while you're up there!"
I plopped down to the wood bench in front of the lockers and ran a hand through my hair, tugging on the ends. Could my life get any more complicated? Working two jobs for a total of twelve hours a day in between classes and taking care of my responsibilities at home was beginning to wear on me. The only thing keeping me going was that I would be graduating in six short weeks, that is, if I could find the time to put the finishing touches on my senior project and to start studying for my upcoming finals.
The stack of towels leered at me. I hate towels. I just didn't have it in me to deliver those bastards. Because it wasn't just the towels I was delivering, it's what they stood for.
Exactly fifteen months ago the universe turned my world upside down and dumped my pitiful ass into the gutter. In response to loosing almost everything, I picked myself up, applied for and was hired as a doorman at one of the swankiest hotels in Manhattan, the Renaissance. It paid the bills…if I juggled them around a bit and called to beg for extensions each month.
I was surviving on beanies and weenies and pop tarts when I was approached with a solution that was sold to me in the vein that it would solve all my problems. And since I began this new endeavor a few short months ago, it has; I've been able to pre-pay my tuition, keep the lights on and put food in the refrigerator and take care of those that need me. But now, even though it continues to roll in, the money isn't the problem. The problem is I've started to feel cheap, dirty and worn out. I don't know how much more I can take.
"Move ya ass, Whitlock!" Mike yelled from him office. It was a muffled sound, and I would bet my left nut he was stuffing shit in his face again.
The sound of his Little Debbie, Tasty Kake clogged throat barking out orders at me set my blood to nuclear. Jabba the Hut's little brother wasn't going to order me around. I jumped up, intent on going after the jackass and pounding him and his blubber butt into the grimy tile floor. Before I could make it very far I was grabbed around the waist and hauled backward.
"Whoa! Chill out, man," Edward said, putting a hand on my chest to hold me back.
Instead of slamming my fist into the mountain of flesh I wanted to see jiggle, I turned and punched the door of my locker, denting the metal and splitting my knuckles open. Blood welled up and ran down my fingers. I snatched one of the towels off the stack and wrapped it around my hand.
"Hey man, what's up with the Rocky routine?" Edward asked.
I cursed under by breath and mumbled, "I gotta take towels to room sixty-nine."
"Is this your first towel run tonight?" He motioned me over to the sink and turned the water on for me.
"Yeah." I stuck my hand under the faucet, letting the cold water wash the blood away.
"I could take it for you, if you want," he offered. He dug through the first aid kit and tossed me a roll of medical tape and squares of white gauze.
"Nah, I got it; maybe next time. But thanks, man." I finished wrapping my hand and scooped up the stack of towels and a small tool box.
"You know, you could just say no," Edward called out after me.
The elevator pinged, the doors sliding open with a woosh. The idea of quitting before I graduated was out of the question. There were too many uncertainties, like the fact even though I had been interviewing left and right with all kinds of companies, I still hadn't had a solid offer of employment. When a person had responsibilities like I had, you'd be a fool to turn down a sure thing just because your moral compass was pointing north again.
"Soon," I said, and stepped into the small box car.
When the elevator doors slid open again I was on the first floor. The concierge office was immediately in front of the elevator bay, and I wasn't too thrilled see Eric manning the front desk. The fucking bastard was the reason I was in this mess in the first place. This whole towel delivering business was his idea, his money making scheme that I was dumb enough to get sucked into. And now that I had gotten used to paying bills on time and eating real food that didn't come in a dented with no label, it was too hard to let it all go.
Mystery meat is not my friend and Toxic Hell taco's don't fill up a growing boy's belly.
It all started in the middle of ethics class about ten months ago. Professor Banner opened the discussion stating that rather than accepting the usual argument that prostitution was immoral, under certain circumstances it could be considered a morally acceptable form of employment.
He first started with the reasons it could be viewed as immoral: it tend to involved coercion. In most cases, people just don't up and decided to become a prostitute. What little girl do you know dreams of hanging out on a street corner in the dead of winter wearing a spandex skirt, a red bustier and a black pleather jacket? And even though most teenage boys only have sex on the brain, how many of them volunteer to be sold left and right, not necessarily to the highest bidder?
So I, as well as most of the class, agreed that the coercion part of it is definitely wrong. The Professor then went on and on about coercion, slavery, communism and a bunch of other shit that I tuned out when my phone beeped with a text from this smokin' hot chick that I had been trying to sweet talk my way into her panties for the last few weeks. No, I'm not a teenage boy, but at this point in time, yes, I still have sex on the brain.
But then Banner said something that caught my attention: all jobs are immoral because unless you were the top dog in your place of business, then you were being coerced into working by those above you or by the mere nature of capitalism. Okay, so maybe he didn't say 'top dog', but the sentiment was the same and the first thing that came to my mind after hearing that was Mike Mountain of Meat Newton pushing people around at the Ren.
One thing was for sure, I didn't work because that piece of shit boss of mine rode my ass to. But Banner was right, I didn't work for the fuckin' fun of it either. I worked because I liked to eat! I worked because I liked to come home at night and when I flipped the switch, I like to see the lights come on.
I rolled that statement around in my head for the rest of the class, and when he finally let us leave, Eric mumbled something under his breath that made me think: "If I can make five hundred bucks for half an hour doing somethin' I love to do, then I ain't being coerced into anything.'
"What did you say?" I asked him.
At first, he acted like he meant something else, but after a little liquid, Jack Daniel's coercion at the bar down the street, I had him spilling his guts. As the assistant concierge at the hotel where we worked at together, Eric was of course privy to the lewd and lascivious request of the guest and under obligation to keep those requests in the strictest confidence. The funny thing about Jack is that he always knows how to get information out of people.
Apparently, in order to fulfill these requests, Eric kept a damn rolodex of women willing to do something strange for a little change on fucking speed dial. Only we weren't talking about a little change. We were talking about no less, and usually much more, than three or four big face Benjamin's a pop. Or, a fuck, I should say.
These weren't your twenty dollar blow job in a dark alley kind of hookers. These women were professional. Boob jobs done by the best surgeons in town, lips like Angelina J, slathered with that eighteen hour, no smudge shit that made them shine like some of Exxon's finest. Payless was not a Shoe Source for these ho's. No, they owned stock in Louboutin.
So this was the deal: a guest would contact the Concierge desk and request these special services. Eric would make the arrangements, and under the guise of a bona fide chamber maid complete with maroon polyester uniform and gold plated name badge, the lady, and I use that term loosely, would deliver special services, or a stack of –code name—towels, to the guest's room.
Eric would receive a cut for making the arrangements and keeping everything confidential. Some could argue that this was exploitive in that Eric was the pimp taking an unfair portion of the proceeds. I didn't see it that way. Hell, the man was only getting twenty percent of three or four hundred dollars! Plus, it wasn't like he beat the women or enslaved them. His percentage was more like…a finder's fee! Yeah, that's it.
The only problem with the game he was running was now that word had circulated among certain circles about the "special services" at the Renaissance Hotel, not only were men requesting towels, but women were too! And Eric didn't have a rolodex of men willing to deliver them, it…whatever.
Therefore, he was delivering the towels himself, and it was wearing him out. He was delivering towels seven or eight times a day, in the mornings, in between classes and late into the night. And being a novice in the oldest profession in the world, there was no way he could supply the demand these women were making on him. He needed help, and since I already worked at the hotel, and he knew I was poorer than a Madoff victim, he recruited me.
Of course, I had to keep my regular duties of manning the front doors, taking luggage to the guest's rooms, and helping the maintenance men with minor repairs. But when towels were requested, I delivered them.
Between the two of us, we had the market cornered in towels. Eventually, we had to take on extra help, Edward and Emmett. Both men were out of work actors seeking to make it big on Broadway- or wherever it was actors went to make it big- but in the meantime looking for a way to pay the rent. The four of us were the only ones who knew about the towels. And anytime Mike gave me specific orders from Eric, he was under the impression that the real chambermaids had simply forgotten to supply the room with them while cleaning and an angry guest was requesting them.
The money was great, and there was nothing like coming home to food, lights and a working radiator. And while I wasn't feeling coerced or enslaved, I was feeling just a tad bit…immoral.
"Eric," I said through clenched teeth.
"Wassup, Whitlock? You delivering towels to sixty-nine?"
As if he didn't know. Fucker. "Nah, I'm the fuckin' Dominos delivery man. Pepperoni pizza, dipshit?"
"Hey, don't be mad at me. You can get out of this anytime you like, all you gotta do is say the word. I can get another guy in here who'd be happy to deliver towels." He wagged his eyebrows at me.
I was so fucking tired of hearing that. Yeah, I could quit, but where else could I make five or six hundred dollars for less than an hour's worth of work? Yeah, that's right, I got two extra large bills when I put my back into it. I had this thing I could do with my hips that drove the women wild…um…yeah, I digress. "What's the bio?" I asked, ignoring him and his shit eating grin.
"The name's Bella Swan; checked in just a little while ago and she's here in town on business. She doesn't know the deal about the towels—"
"Hold on a sec, she doesn't know about the towels?"
"Lemme explain first before you get your panties all bunched up." Eric looked to the right and then left, checking for any guest that may overhear. "She works for some mom and pop marketing company out in San Francisco and her boss felt Ms. Swan needed a little celebratory R-n-R after signing on a big time client today, so she called and pre paid for some special services for her favorite employee."
"Her boss set this up?"
Eric shrugged. "Yeah, it was some blond Emmett worked over about a week ago; I think her name was Rose. Had legs a mile long and an attitude to match."
"How the hell am I supposed to go deliver towels to this Swan chick and she didn't even ask for it or know what to expect when I get in there?"
Eric grinned like the shit flinging monkey he is and shrugged. "You're the expert, I'm sure you'll figure something out."
"I'm not an expert," I protested, pounding my fist on the desk.
"Easy there lover, you don't wanna damage the goods before our client samples 'em."
"This is the last time…"
Eric raised his eyebrows, waiting to hear what 'this last time' was.
The last time, what? The last time I delivered towels? The last time my light bill got paid on time? The last time…oh, who the hell was I kidding? The sad thing was, even though I could, and had, made a lot of money delivering towels, I still couldn't quit. What I had made had gone to paying off past debts and present concerns. So for me, the last time was still too far off.
I picked the towels up off the counter and turned away. "What'd you say her name was? Becky Bird?"
"Bella, Bella Swan. And don't forget it."
"Whatever," I mumbled as I walked away.
My feet felt like lead, and the business of picking them up and putting them down became a conscience thought instead of an involuntary motion. I passed the room and didn't realize it until I got to the end of the hallway and was facing the exit to the stairwell. How the hell was I supposed to deliver some towels if I couldn't get my head in the game?
I doubled back to the room and knocked on the thick oak door. After the second knock went unanswered, I started to walk away, thinking that if Swan didn't know I was coming, there was nothing to keep her in her room when she could be out enjoying the city and finding her own way to celebrate her success.
But just as I turned to leave, the door opened a crack and a sliver of a nose could be seen between the door and the frame.
"Yes?" The word was mumbled and followed by a series of sniffles.
"Hey, are you okay?"
She wiped at her eyes. "Yeah, can I help you?"
Was she crying?
I didn't know what to say or do. Usually when I knocked, my guest knew I was coming and they were more than ready for me. It was normal for the door to be flung open in invitation, followed by me being dragged in by the lapels of my doorman's coat and then slammed back against the wall before being pawed at and stripped naked.
Yes, women are animals.
I started to sweat, trickles of water running down my back in under my arm. I fought the urge to scratch and held the towels up for her to see. "Um, towels. The maid forgot to leave towels." But like the clumsy moron I'd all of a sudden become, I dropped them all over the floor. "Dammit!"
"Oh, it's okay. I've got it."
As I bent down to pick them up the door opened and Bella Swan's right foot collided with the red metal tool box I had absentmindedly set down in front of the door. She gasped and grabbed her foot, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain.
"Aw shit!" I caught her arm as she listed to the side. "Here, let me help. I'm so sorry." I saw tears on her cheeks and immediately felt like a tool. And when she opened her eyes and looked at me, I forgot why we were standing so close together in the hallway.
I was hypnotized, lost in a sea of watery chocolate. Bella Swan was beautiful in an understated way and my eyes were drawn to the sensuous curve of her lips and the rose hued blush creeping up her neck.
"No, it's not your fault," she said in a breathless hiss. "I've been clumsy since birth. You'd think after twenty seven years I'd learned to watch where I was going."
She took a step and winced, her discomfort pulling me out of my stupor. With an arm around her tiny waist I helped her back into her suite and deposited her on the small sofa.
"Let me take a look-"
Bella pulled her foot away and tried to scoot away. The black skirt she had on inched upward, granting me a view of creamy thighs smooth skin. "No, no you don't have to."
I held onto her ankle and reached for her shoe anyway, at the same time trying not to stare at her bare legs or concentrate too hard on the fact that her skin did indeed feel as soft as it looked. "We need to make sure you haven't broken anything."
"It's okay, really," she insisted, practically swatting at my hand.
"What is it? Why don't you want me to look at your foot?"
She didn't answer, just turned beet red.
"You didn't paint your toe nails, did you?" I laughed.
She shook her head and bit down on her bottom lip. "I didn't have time to this morning. I went straight to my meeting from the airport."
God, she was sexy. I fought the nervous giggle building up at the bottom of my stomach. Really? Real men didn't giggle. I coughed to clear my throat. "It's okay, I promise not to judge."
She had barely finished nodding her consent before I had the shoe off and was inspecting her toe. It was swollen and red and the neatly trimmed nail was chipped on one side.
"Tell me if this hurts."
"It hurt, it hurts!" She squealed and flailed her hands around.
"Bella, I haven't even touched it yet."
She cracked an eye open and looked down at my fingers hovering over her toe. "Oh…well it hurts anyway."
"Can you move it?"
She bit down on her bottom lip again and grunted as she attempted to wiggle her toe. "Is it moving?"
"If you have to ask, then the answer is no. I think we should take you to St. Luke's for an x-ray."
"No, it's fine," she protested. "Just a little sore."
"Hey, how do you know my name?"
Stupefied, I searched my brain for a plausible explanation other than the one where I told her I had been hired by her boss to rock her world. "I…um…I apologize for being presumptuous, Miss Swan, the front desk gave me your name with the order to deliver the towels."
She smiled brightly down at me. "Oh, it's okay, and you can call me Bella."
"Okay then, Bella, if we don't get your toe looked at, and it's broken, it'll heal wrong and you'll have a Quasi Moto limp for the rest of your life."
She shook her head. "It's not broken. I just need some ice and rest."
I started to protest but she held up her hand to stop me. "Believe me when I say that I've spent the better part of my childhood in and out of the emergency room for various acts of gravity failing me at the wrong time. It's not broken, it's just sore."
"Are you sure?"
"Aside from the ice, what can I do to help?"
"What's the tool box for?"
"I was told to check the light in the bathroom."
"Oh, I just checked in and haven't even been in there yet. If you could do that, and then get me the ice, that would be great."
"Don't go anywhere, I'll be right back."
"The card key is on the desk, just let yourself in."
I swiped the key and ice bucket off the desk and took off down the hallway toward the ice machine. As the ice plunked down into the bucket it occurred to me that I was no closer to fulfilling my obligation to my new chosen profession than I had been when I first knocked on the door.
I had no idea how to approach the situation, and scenes from very bad HBO porn's filtered through my head. The ones where the doorman delivers towels, slips into the room and bath only to find the attractive guest getting out of the shower with nothing to dry off on. Instead of leaving the towels like a professional doorman should, he offers to suck the water from her body and she readily agrees. They have wild monkey sex and he repeats the same thing a few doors down the hall with another hot lookin' babe.
I rolled my eyes. What the fuck was I going to do?
Bella Swan was no longer the client I was providing special services to. She was a face, she had a name, and in the five minutes I had been around her, she had personality. How could I knowingly seduce her without her knowledge of who I was or what I was hired to do?
But who was I? Wasn't I just like any other doorman? I opened doors, I hailed cabs, I carried luggage and just because I accepted money for sex didn't make me a prostitute, did it? And if I told her what had been requested on her behalf, what would she do? Would she agree, thinking that a walk on the wild side wouldn't hurt just this one time? Just because she looked like a very sexy Rebecca from Sunnybrook Farm, didn't mean she was. Or would she get mad, throw me out and tell the General Manager that there was a prostitution ring going on in his very high class hotel.
What to do, what to do?
With the ice bucket overflowing I raced back down the hallway, eager with anticipation. What a minute, what was I eager about? Just because Bella Swan had a set of killer legs, high firm breasts and big round doe eyes didn't mean I needed to be eager about getting back to her.
The option of not going through with the deal crossed my mind. But what if this Rose chick who Edward had tossed the week before found out that she had paid for services that weren't delivered? We could all be exposed and be out of the money we all desperately needed.
Edward and Emmett lived in a little hovel of an apartment, fighting for space with the cat sized rats and hissing cockroaches that threaten to invade their space. Eric went to school full time, worked full time and took care of his sick mother and four siblings. The cut he received from funneling our clients plus what he made on his own towel runs was just barely enough to keep food on their table and clothes on their backs. And with all the responsibilities I was carrying, I couldn't afford to let my conscious endanger any of us.
Right before I slid the card key home I whipped out my phone and sent a text saying that I would be home within the next hour. I had a job to do.
She wasn't on the sofa where I had left her. I heard sniffles, a sob and then, "You son of a bitch, don't you ever call me again!"
"Bella, Ms. Swan?" I called out as I made my way toward the bedroom.
There was loud crash, the sound of glass breaking and curse. Without knocking, I pushed open the bedroom door only to find it empty.
"Over here," the small, tear choked voice said.
She was huddled in the corner on the other side of the bed, a broken lamp and twisted cell phone beside her.
I practically leapt across the bed, falling to the floor beside her. "Bella, are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?" After a quick visual inspection showed that she wasn't bleeding from anywhere, my heart slowed, somewhat, and I took a deep breath to calm my nerves.
"He left me," she moaned, tears in her eyes. "After three years, he left me."
"Who left you?"
"My idiot boyfriend broke up with me…through a text message!"
I looked down at the phone. "Just now?"
She wiped the tears off her cheeks. "No, before you came with the towels. I'd been trying to call him back since then, and finally got through just a minute ago."
Well that explained why she was crying when she answered the door.
What the hell do I do now? There was no way I could seduce her with the emotional upheaval she was going through. I had done a lot of shitty things in my life, but I had never taken advantage of a vulnerable female and I wasn't going to start now.
But I couldn't just leave her on the floor, crying with a broken heart and hurt toe.
"Um…let's get you off the floor and get this ice on your toe, okay?" I slipped one arm under her legs and the other around her waist before lifting her off the floor. "Do you uh…wanna talk about it?" I asked as I set her down on the bed and wrapped the make shift ice pack around her foot.
Bella opened her mouth and I swore she told me every dirty deed her fucktard ex-boyfriend had ever done to her. All the lies she had caught him telling, women she suspected he had inappropriate contact with, the money she had loaned him that he never paid back, and on and on.
She blew her nose and wiped her eyes again. "In truth, it's a relief. He's a jerk and I was about to break up with him anyway. He just beat me to the punch."
"Then why are you crying?"
"Because I'm mad!" she yelled. "I wasted so much time hopping he would change, putting up with his bull shit when I could have been with someone who wanted me for me and not my…my boobs!"
I tried not to look down, I really did. But the simple fact that she drew attention to what I had been trying to avoid staring at in the first damn place made it near impossible not to look. Don't judge me, the girl was rockin' some seriously beautiful breasts and it would be a crime against heterosexual males everywhere if I didn't pay homage to and give them the credit they deserve by ogling them.
And wouldn't you know it, the silk blouse she was wearing with the top few buttons undone gave me just the right amount of peep show without it being dirty or degrading.
I was damn near struck stupid with a surge of lust and started stuttering worse than an old car with cheap gas. "I-I'm –"
"I can't believe I'm sitting up here crying over that bastard!" Bella took a deep breath and released it, her entire countenance took on a steadier, I'm in control appearance. "But you know what, it's time to move on."
"That's a good attitude to-"
When she said it was time to move on, I didn't think she meant it was time to move on to me! Bella Swan grabbed the lapels of my coat and yanked me across the bed, causing me to lose my balance and I fell on top of her.
"Ms. Swan, Bella?"
"Shut up and kiss me."
"I saw you looking at my boobs," she accused.
"I was not-"
Yes, her lips were as soft as they looked. Momentarily stunned, I didn't move and I think I forgot how to breathe. I had made it a personal rule to never kiss one of my clients on the mouth. A lot of people in my profession followed the same rule only because kissing made the whole have-sex-for-money act too personal. To me, that was just a piss-poor excuse. Having sex, whether for money or not, was about as personal as you could get with anybody.
I didn't kiss on the mouth, because my kisses were reserved for two people, and two people only. Thos two people were the reason I did what I did, and the reason I would continue until I could make my way out of the hole I was in.
But when Bella arched against me, and moaned deep in her throat, my cock jumped to attention and I forgot all about my no kissing rule.
"What's your name?" she murmured against my lips, pushing my doorman's jacket off my shoulders.
"Huh?" I asked, stupidly.
"Name, what's your name?" she repeated, running the tip of her tongue along my jaw line and up toward my ear.
Name? What's my name? I know I have one of those. Dammit, what's my name? Bella lightly nipped the bottom of my earlobe with her teeth and making any kind of coherent sentence was beyond me.
"Riley," I panted as I extended my tongue and went in deep.
What the hell?
I have no idea why I gave her a false name. In all the time since I started delivering towels I had never lied about my name. It had never mattered to me that the women I serviced knew who I was. Most of them I would never see again and the ones who asked for a repeat performance never cared what it was in the first place.
For some reason, this didn't feel right. No, I take that back, the physical part of this felt very right. But the mental part of it, the part that screamed at me this was a mistake and it wasn't right to play substitute to who she was really missing and needing was wrong.
And then I felt the electric tip of her tongue and she hooked her ankles behind the back of my thighs, moving against me and pulling me closer and I shut the mental voice out of my head.
She met me thrust for thrust, our tongues swirling around each other, making love to each other. I felt her hand deep in my hair, tugging on the ends and pushing me downward. I broke the seal of our kiss so that I could run my tongue down the side of her neck, nipping lightly at the cords of her neck along the way.
With a boldness I didn't think she had, Bella shoved her hand down between us and palmed my cock. "God, I love the way you feel against me."
Holy shit on a stick, Batman! Surprised, I jerk away from her.
"Riley, make love to me."
Abruptly, she sat up, pushing me up as well and before I could protest or even talk her out of it, she had her silk blouse unbuttoned and off. The black see through lace of her bra hid nothing, showcasing tight rosy nipples waiting for some special attention.
Do the right thing; I have to do the right thing!
"It's not right…I don't…we can't do this," I said, shaking my head and trying to still her hands. "You're not thinking this through."
Bella pushed my hands away. "Don't tell me what I'm thinking or not thinking." After popping open the front closure of her bra, suddenly I was the one who wasn't thinking. That is, I wasn't thinking about doing anything but putting my mouth around one of her glorious nipples.
Tossing the lacy garment aside, she reached up and clamped a hold to the side of my face, bringing me down with her as she lay back down. "Touch me, please."
Naked to the waist and looking at me like she wanted me to devour her, Bella slid the side zipper of her skirt down, the parting of the metal the only sound in the room.
I was sitting on the fence of emotions. Part of me was screaming that this wasn't right. I couldn't do this to her. But the other part of me, the part that paid the bills and put food on the table was saying that this is what I had been paid to do and to protect the guys, I needed to follow through.
So which part won?
I rolled to my side, dug in my pocket and pulled out the two foil packets that had become as much a part of my uniform as the black polyester pants. Holding it up between my fingers I offered it to her.
If she needed to fuck her Ex out of her system, then I was going to offer up my services. I'd rather it be me than some random jerk off the street.
"You lead the way."
Bella snatched the condom out of my hand, and in a blink of an eye, she was completely naked and the way she was pushing and pulling on my clothes, she had me well on the way to being there too.
"Tell me what you want me to do," I said.
She pushed me over onto my back, straddling my hips. Unbuckling my belt, Bella pulled at my zipper and slipped her hands inside. Stroking me, she closed her eyes and breathed heavily through her nose. "The first time, I want it hardcore. Then, make me beg for it."
My cock was rock hard, and I was afraid that if she kept stroking me like that, I was gonna come in my pants like some teenage boy getting felt up for the first time. I ran my hands up her thighs and around to her ass, cupping and squeezing a cheek in each hand. "Open your eyes, Bella...open them and look at me."
Once she had them open and I could see clarity in her eyes, I brought my hands back around between us to the V of her thighs. With my thumbs, I parted the crease hiding her sex and teased her, touching all around her lower lips except where she wanted me the most. She squirmed, bouncing around on my dick, seeking the friction her body desired.
Needing to get control of the situation, I sat up a little, leaning back against the headboard. The scent of her arousal permeated the air, and I finally consented to what she wanted; stroking her, playing with her sex, rubbing it in circles. Bella threw her head back, arching her back and swinging her hips in rhythm with the pace I set, thrusting my fingers into her slick, wet heat. She bit down on her bottom lip, moaning and fisting her fingers in my tee shirt.
"You're a beautiful woman, you know that?" I asked, running my tongue up between the valley of her breasts.
"Please," she moaned.
I kissed the underside of her breast, nipping at the skin before running my tongue across to suckle her nipple. "Please, what?" I teased.
"Get inside me, please…please."
"No, no, no," I tisked. I added another finger and pumped in and out of her while I worked her clit with my thumb. "You're not supposed to be begging yet."
She whimpered and I could feel her walls clamping down on my fingers. Being purposely rougher than I knew she was probably accustom to, I grabbed her breast, pinching her nipple while I bit down on the other. And just as I suspected, she came hard, yelling the name she thought was mine as she did so.
I cursed, wishing it were my real name on her lips as her orgasm tore through her. Before she could recover, I stood up with her in my arms, turned and laid her back on the bed. "I'm not through with you yet," I murmured against her lips before kissing her hard.
Without breaking the kiss until we had to, Bella yanked my shirt over my head. I kicked off my shoes and pants with the boxers following. My erection sprang free, bobbing up and down, seeking Bella's heat like a heat seeking missile. I stood up over her, palming my cock and looking down at her gorgeously naked body.
With a smug smile, Bella spread her legs even further in invitation. "Get in me," she demanded.
"You put it on me." I tossed her the first foil packet.
Like a kid ripping the plastic off a lollipop, Bella tore into the packet and positioned the condom on the head of my cock. "You're bigger than I thought."
"A little," she admitted with a shy smile.
With slow, deliberate strokes, she slid the latex down over my shaft, teasing my balls with her fingers. I had to clench my teeth to hold back the groan. Kneeling one knee on the bed, I grabbed her leg and tossed it over my forearm. "You're gonna pay for that."
Bella said she wanted it hardcore, well then I was gonna to give her what she wanted.
"Good," she echoed my earlier statement, before I abruptly slammed into her.
Bella's eyes went wide and her lips formed an O shape before she clamped down on the bottom lip with her teeth. Her slick wet heat took my breath away and I thought the top of my cock was going to blow off before I could even start moving. How was it possible she could feel this good?
I gave her a hot second to adjust to my size before I starting moving, pistoning my hips in and out of her tight hold, my cock a solid shaft of power. Her head rocked back and forth on the mattress as I moved within her. Dropping my head, I bit down on one of her nipples, playing with it with my tongue and rolling it between my teeth.
"Hold onto me," I panted, planting kisses against her neck.
Whether she didn't hear me, or she wasn't connecting to me in the here and now, I didn't know. But I didn't like it and had to repeat my command before she complied. She might be using me as a means to fill some sort of physical hole caused by her Ex, but at the same time I wanted her to know who was fucking her.
And it wasn't him.
Bella hooked her other leg around the back of my thigh and I felt her fingernails digging into my back. With a move I'm sure she wasn't expecting, I swept her off the bed, turned and pushed her back against the wall.
She let out a groan, but that wasn't good enough. I wanted her screaming.
"I wanna hear how good I'm fucking you."
I could almost see her mental struggle, trying to let the past go and embrace the future. Whatever that may be.
It was clear she needed a push in the right direction. And I was happy to oblige.
I hit her with my hip swirl, putting my back into it, pumping in and out of her. The wall shook and the picture frame vibrated. Bella's head fell back and she arched her back, grinding her hips into mine. Her breath exploded out of her in short gasps.
"Let it go," I panted. "Let him go."
The sound of our grunting, sweaty bodies slapping together and the rhythm of that picture hitting the wall filled the air. Those beautiful breasts of hers swayed every time I slammed into her and she dug her nails deeper into my back. I felt her muscles tense, signaling her nearing release.
"Let me hear it…who's fucking you?"
Holding onto her, I turned and dropped her to the bed again, never losing my pace as I pounded into her. She was coming. I could feel her walls gripping me, tight as a fist. With her head kicked back and her eyes squeezed shut she let out a roar as she came.
I can't say that I'd ever had the pleasure of making love to someone. Even before I started delivering towels the girls I dated just wanted to be fucked. Sex was not an emotional connection, but a means to satisfy a physical itch. And up until tonight, that had just been fine with me.
I woke Bella up about an hour later with soft kisses up the inside of her thighs. Deep in a post orgasmic sleep, she came awake with her legs over my shoulders and my tongue inside her. It was something I had never done for one of my hotel guests before, but it was something I was willing to take a chance on for Bella.
With her fingers buried in my hair, I thrust my tongue deep, lapping, flickering and penetrating her until I felt her shaking with her release. But it didn't stop there.
Before she could fully come down from her orgasm, I had my cock surrounded by her wet heat once again, pumping in slow motion. Bella said that she wanted to beg for it, but she was wrong. She should never have to beg to be worshipped.
I only wished I could be the one worshipping her on a regular basis.
She clung to me as I worked her over, slowly and thoroughly and when she came, she softly whispered the name she thought was mine. I wiped the tears out of the corners of her eyes.
I ain't a pussy, but I wanted to cry too.
How could I leave her like this? How could I just walk away from what had just happened between us? But how was what we did any different than all the other times I delivered towels to my guests?
Because unlike all the other times, this time I didn't just put my hips and back into it, I put my heart into it.
And that was a very dangerous thing.
I held her until she fell asleep, dressed quietly and wrote her a quick note on the standard hotel stationary, leaving her to her dreams.
"You're home late," the soft, non-scolding voice said.
I dropped my gym bag down beside the door. After a night like the one I just had, only an hour of intense weight lifting and a steaming hot shower could take the edge off. Consequently, I arrived home much later than normal.
"Granny B, what are you still doing up?" Squinting in the dim light of the living room lamp, I bent down and kissed her cheek.
"I wanted to make sure you got home alright."
"You have a doctor's appointment tomorrow."
She waved her hand, dismissing the implication that she should be sleep and resting. Heaven forbid she actually take care of and worry about herself for once. "I'll be fine."
"How is she?" I asked, nodding to the tiny bedroom at the end of the hallway.
Granny B placed both hands on the armrest of the chair she was sitting in, did a little rocking motion and then heaved herself up and onto her feet with a short groan that comes from old age, uncooperative joints and years of fighting the disease that kept threatening her life. As bad as it killed me, I knew better than to offer my assistance as she took a sleepy step forward and wobbled. "She's sleep, and she missed you tonight."
"I wish you didn't work so hard."
"I know," I repeated.
"You can't keep going like this," she stated.
It was the start of the same conversation we had been having for months now. I was tired of hearing it, but I knew she meant well. And besides, it wasn't like I had a choice in the matter.
"I've only got a few more weeks to go."
I opened the refrigerator, checking the small box of medicine vials that I paid dearly for to help keep her alive. "You didn't go to the pharmacy today?"
She didn't answer.
Just like I was tired of hearing the, you-work-too-much speech, I was sure she was tired of hearing the, make-sure-you-take-your-medicine speech from me.
"There's only two left, Granny B."
She pulled her robe closer around her small frame. "I'll be fine…I am fine."
She held up her hand to stop me. "Go see her, kiss her goodnight and get yourself to bed," she ordered. For a woman who wasn't quite five feet tall, Granny B was a force to be reckoned with. When she gave you an order, you followed through with it.
"We'll talk about this tomorrow."
"Go," she said, pointing in the direction of the bedroom.
I kissed her cheek one last time and made my way down the hallway.
I could hear my girl as soon as I opened the door. She was awake, waiting up for me and as soon as she saw me, her eyes went wide and her face broke out in a one tooth grin.
"Hey baby girl!" I whisper shouted. She cooed and flailed her arms around. "How's daddy's girl?"
As soon as I picked her up, she simultaneously laughed and passed gas, a loud ripping sound that caused her to laugh even harder.
"You silly, smelly goose," I kissed her cheek, taking a moment to breathe in her baby smell: baby powder, diaper rash cream and the remnants of her last bottle manifesting in her diaper.
I laid my baby girl out on the changing table, and I as reached for a wet wipe I thought about all the towels I had delivered over the last few months. I thought about the four thousand dollars a month medicine I had to buy for Granny B and the diapers for my daughter and doctor's appointments my two favorite girls had to go to.
Simalac ain't cheap and they don't sell Huggies for the low.
My daughter looked up at me and flashed another semi-toothless grin. So yeah, while I might hate delivering towels, the towels were the only thing keeping us afloat.
I pulled the Dr. Seuss book off the shelf. "Alright little one, its story time and then off to bed for you."
Much later, when the apartment was quite and I lay in bed all alone, I clutched the pillow to my chest and thought of Bella. Images of the way my cock looked sliding in and out of her body. The feel of her wrapped around me and the tears she shed after she came, clinging onto me and whispering her thanks to me for serving her well.
I would never forget the way she smelled or the sight of her head kicked back as I pumped my fingers in and out of her.
And my heart would never be the same again either.
Leave me some love!