point exactly. Now let us each have a melon wedge.” She offered him the bowl and ate a few of them herself. “What does your mouth feel like now?” she asked.
“Well, actually, it feels refreshed and clean,” he commented thoughtfully.
“Now kiss me again.”
He repeated his performance, but this time their mouths tasted sweet and alluring.
“Wow!” he said playfully. “You really taste good.”
She laughed and smiled warmly at him. His kiss had started those tingling sensations all over again. “Ready for lesson two?” she asked as she dropped her robe on the floor and sashayed naked back toward the bedroom.
“You’re just trying to kill me,” he protested weakly as he downed the last of the champagne and returned the glass to the table. He tossed his robe in the chair and then stretched and flexed his muscles. His body was already poised for the next challenge as he followed her lead.
Claudette enjoyed many young lovers over the years, but none after Trevor, who held a special place in her heart. She explained the rules of the service business: never give your true name, never be seen in public with a client, and never take a client for granted or make her feel cheapened by her need for his service. Women would have different needs and desires, which would drive them to call him, but they should never feel sullied by giving in to those desires.
Trevor spent a year as Claudette’s lover before she fell ill and her health no longer permitted the sexual escapades she so enjoyed. Up until his arrest, he still visited her once a month to check on her. He would sit by her chair in the library and plant feathery kisses on her wrists. She would lean back in the chair, enjoying the sensations and reliving the memories.
A loud scuffle in the corridor brought him sharply back to the present and his dismal surroundings. He lay down on the cold metal cot and again pondered how he ended up in Cook County jail.
3
He’d been in the business for about eight months when he first met Paige. He immediately recognized something different in her. There was a sense of vulnerability about her that wasn’t evident in the other women he was servicing.
She opened the hotel door and gazed up at the tall, handsome stranger in the hallway. Immediately she experienced second thoughts. What was she doing? Did she really call this man here to have sex with her?
“May I?” he asked in a deep voice as he arched an eyebrow in her direction. Conflicting emotions were doing battle in her head, and the uncertainty was etched on her face.
“I’m not sure what I was thinking when I asked you to come here,” she began nervously. She stepped back and allowed him to enter the room. He walked through the doorway and glanced around. It was a standard no-frills hotel room: queen bed, end tables, dresser, and TV armoire. He noticed the curtains were drawn tightly, preventing any outside light from filtering in. The door automatically closed behind him.
He observed her nervously shifting eyes and wringing hands. She was an attractive woman. Slim of build, smooth tan complexion, and small waist. Her breasts were rising and falling quickly with her sharp, short breathing. He, too, began to wonder why she called him, but then he stopped himself. He never knew what drove women to call him. He just complied with all reasonable requests. After all, that’s what they paid him for.
“I’ll still pay you. But I’ve changed my mind,” she explained haltingly.
“Are you sure?” he asked kindly. “We can go very slowly if that would make it more comfortable for you.”
Paige finally looked up into his warm brown eyes. He was an extremely handsome man, and it had been a very long time since a man touched her in any way. She longed to feel his body next to hers, if just for a short while. “I don’t want to sound stupid, but could we just get in the bed and be close for a while. If that’s okay?” she asked timidly.
“Sure, whatever you want,” he said, resisting the urge to check his watch.
“I—I’ve never done anything like this before. When do I pay you? Now?” she asked, reaching for her purse.
“You know what my fee is. My preference is for you to leave it on the table by the door in an envelope. I will collect it on my way in or out as I see fit. I prefer we not pass cash between us. It sullies the mood of our afternoon. If we are to do business together, there must be a modicum of trust between us. I should not feel it necessary to count the money while I am with you. It cheapens you, and it cheapens me. If you were ever to shortchange me, then simply do not call me again,” he stated quietly.
“Okay, I’m sorry,” she said, putting her purse back on the dresser.
“Since this is our first time together, I will need a little time to learn your preferences. Would you like my clothes on or off while I am in bed with you today?”
“Off, please, except for your…” she stammered, blushing profusely.
“I understand,” he interrupted and began removing his shirt.
She felt like a voyeur watching him as he peeled off his shirt and sleeveless T-shirt he wore under it. She stared intently as he pulled it over his head to reveal a caramel six-pack and hairless rock-hard chest. His pectorals jumped as he raised his arms above his head, releasing the shirt. Small brown nipples capped each solid breast. She began to feel the familiar tingling sensation in her loins.
Trevor was used to women watching him undress and was proud of his physique. He worked hard to keep it this way. His hands moved to the belt buckle, and she continued to stare as he unbuckled his belt and then unzipped his pants.
Still feeling like a voyeur watching a strip show, Paige turned away. Embarrassed by the hunger, which must have been evident in her eyes, she busied herself with pulling back the spread and cover on the bed.
She looked up to see him standing next to the bed in his briefs. How long had it been since she had seen a man in this state of undress? Three years at least, she thought. His thighs were strong and muscled. Seeing the large bulge at his crotch, she got weak in the knees.
“Are you going to change?” he asked.
“Yes, I’ll be right back,” she said as she walked quickly into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Her breathing was quick and shallow, and she was once again gripped with fear. It took her a few more minutes to gather her wits again as she leaned her hands on the edge of the sink and closed her eyes. “You can do this,” she said quietly, picturing the handsome stranger waiting patiently for her in the other room. Uncertain of this step she was taking, but determined to go through with it, she nervously slipped out of her slacks and pulled her sweater over her head. She retrieved the thin nylon gown from the counter and pulled it down over her head. She chose this gown because the thick straps would conceal her brassiere underneath. It was thin but not sheer. She checked her reflection in the mirror and adjusted the prosthesis in the left breast cup. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and returned to the bedroom.
He was in the bed leaning back against the headboard. If her granny-style gown surprised him, he gave no indication. He pulled back the top sheet so she could crawl in beside him. Tentatively she scooted closer to him in the bed until her skin touched his bare thigh. He reached out and pulled her into the crook of his arm. Slowly, testing the feel
