The Present… Thursday Evening…

Looking out the window where a rapidly sinking sun illuminated rain drops blown against the glass. The weather today had matched my mood though I'd tried not to show my bad mood to my clients.

Shifting, I added another pillow to the ones behind my back to sit up straighter. The movement caused my breasts to sway and Chris paused in collecting his clothes to look at me. I smiled back and took a long sip of the wonderful brandy Chris had brought with him. Chris continued to gaze at me while buttoning his shirt. No surprise there. When a long-legged blonde is lounging naked on a bed she just shared with you... Well, she deserves to be looked at!

Chris, the man who until a few minutes ago had shared the bed with me, tucked his shirt into his trousers then sat in a chair at the foot of the bed to pull on his socks. There was a clock on the night table. Chris still had twenty minutes of paid for me. I knew there wasn't a chance in hell of anything serious but there was time to play. Maybe earn a larger tip. Opening my legs to give Chris a better view of my still cummy pussy, I pouted, "Are you sure you have to go now? I wouldn't mind another roll in the hay."

"I'd love nothing better than to remain all night, but the wife has some meeting she wants me to go to with her," Chris informed me ruefully. "She probably wants me there to write a check to save the damned dolphins or something." Shrugging into his suit's jacket, he flipped his tie over his head. Chris started to knot the tie then stopped. Walking slowly while trailing his fingers along the inside of my leg from ankle to pussy, he came to sit on the edge of the bed next to me. Chris ran his palm slowly over my mound and down into the dip of my flat stomach. Eyes followed his hand as it moved up my chest to find and massage my left breast. Chris tweaked and rolled my hardening nipple between thumb and finger, "Besides, an entire night with you would kill an old guy like me."

"Maybe, but..." Smiling evilly, I spread my legs more. Taking the hand on my breast in mine, I pushed it down my body to rest on my mound and curled his fingers into my still-moist pussy lips. "But I'd make you die happy."

"God, Viv! You are such a temptress," Chris whispered as I guided his fingers with mine. Pressing his to rub and manipulate the softness of my hairless lips. My hips moved upwards in invitation as a fingertip circled my clit before sliding down my oily slit to slip inside me. The delicious sensations of his fingering caused my hips to squirm under his hand. I moaned when a second finger slid inside me. Chris continued to probe deeper while the hard heel of his hand pressed down on my clit. Chris increased the tempo of his fingering, listening and watching the fluttering of my stomach muscles as my breath caught and released in response to his probing fingers.

I spread my thighs more to allow for deeper exploration. Instead of accepting my unspoken invitation, Chris shook his head ruefully before lifting his hand from my mound. Grinning, Chris brought his fingers to my mouth, painting my lips with our sex before I snapped my head forward to capture his fingers in my mouth, swirling my tongue over his fingers to clean them.

"Viv, I would love to take you away for a weekend in Paris," Chris said as I continued to suck his fingers. "I think dying in the City of Lights while making love would be the perfect ending of a long life." With a sigh, Chris pulled his hand away. Continuing the motion, he withdrew an envelope from an inside jacket pocket and placed it on the night table beside the bed. From his wallet, several more bills went on top of the envelope.

Pretending not to notice the envelope, in the light of a setting sun outside our window I stretched sinuously on the bed to my full length, "I wouldn't mind a trip to France," I purred. "As long as it's first-class so I have room to stretch out."

Chris leaned over to kiss my forehead. Walking to the door, his last words before leaving were, "Nothing less than first-class for you, Viv. Nothing less."

Chris was one of Marla's oldest clients. I mean that in a dual sense. He was one of the first men who'd used Marla's specialized service. He was also pushing eighty years old. I'd been with him once before. He was a nice, comfortable lover. His body was long past its prime though he wasn't fat, just wrinkled. Wasn't interested in anything kinky. Never tried to lick my toes or smell my panties. He just took his time, enjoying himself with whichever girl Marla sent when he requested company.

Chris enjoyed sloppy blow jobs, slender cigars and expensive brandy. Not necessarily in that order. The old guy was still relatively vigorous, too. Vigorous enough for me to have brought him twice. Once with pussy and once with my mouth. It had taken more than the two hours he'd originally paid for but I'd agreed when asked if I could stay longer. I'd sucked and stroked until my lips were numb to bring the cum out of his dick the second time. I had a feeling the bills Chris had left behind would make my efforts worthwhile.

Chris hadn't been in a hurry to leave after I'd sucked him dry and for the last hour we'd been together, we'd spent the time relaxing; I listened to his family troubles while we sipped excellent cognac and smoked expensive, imported cigars. When Chris smoked, he expected the woman in bed with him to smoke, also. I very much enjoyed the relaxing, talking and sipping while I tried not to inhale on my cigar. Chris joked that his cigars were hand-rolled upon the virgin thighs of Cuban beauties. I wouldn't bet on virgin thighs but they had an easy draw and a hint of a flavor I couldn't identify. I didn't mind the smell of the cigars. If it wasn't for the smell lingering in my hair and clothes, I could see myself enjoying a cigar every night.

Chris had been my last client today. My third. When Marla had called to ask if I wanted to meet with another client after my last scheduled meeting, I'd agreed because it was Chris. Servicing three clients in one day left me feeling tired with slightly sore thigh muscles when I walked. This evening I was also relaxed because of all the excellent brandy in my stomach. Since I didn't need to be anywhere soon, I poured another two fingers of Remy Martin into my glass.

With glass in hand, I pushed up from the bed. Glass, envelope and purse went with me into the bathroom. In the harsh glare of the overhead light, my reflection in the mirror looked a fright. Bed hair going every which way. Residue of spit and cum on my face and chest. Makeup ruined and the red of my lipstick smeared across upper lip, cheeks and chin.

In one gulp I emptied the glass, shivering and whooshing out a long breath as the brandy burned its way to my stomach. I had two more envelopes in my purse. Opening them and the one from Chris, I couldn't help but smile as I counted my gifts. Not... a... bad... day... I thought. Folding the bills, I put them in a side pocket of my purse and withdrew a scrunchy to put my hair into a bun. Once my hair was out of the way, with copious amounts of soap, hot water and elbow grease I scrubbed my face clean. I carry a tiny travel case in my purse. It had a small tube of toothpaste and a folding toothbrush. I dug it out from the bottom of my purse. A few seconds later I swished and spit. Any remaining cum and cigar residue was gone leaving my breath minty fresh. More soap and hot water in the shower washed sex from my skin. Minutes later I stepped out of the shower squeaky clean. I freed my hair from the scrunchy and shook my hair out as I toweled off.

I poured the last drams from the bottle of brandy and gulped it down as I dressed. I felt bad shotgunning wonderful brandy like cheap whiskey, but I was in a hurry. Taking a last look around the hotel suite to make certain I wasn't leaving anything behind, I tossed the key card on the bed and left to go home.

I'd acted my ass off today giving men their happy time. Now that my day was over, I let my mad out!

***************

Back at my brownstone, I stopped at the third floor and pounded on Danny's door. Nothing. No sound from inside. Danny either was out or he was ignoring me. Again. "If you're not home, then that's okay! But if you're ignoring me then you're an asshole," I yelled at the door! I would have stomped my foot, but I remembered I was wearing stilettos and didn't want to chance breaking my heel. I settled on hitting the door again with my hand.

"Even if you're not at home and even if you aren't ignoring me, you're still an asshole," I yelled at the door one last time before turning away. Did my last sentence make sense? Probably not. Was it stupid yelling at and hitting a door? Probably. But it made me feel better as I stomped up the next flight of stairs to my apartment.

It wasn't my fault Danny got all pissy yesterday. Well, it wasn't! Not my fault at all, I thought virtuously as I began my regular routine after arriving home after a day of sex. I added more condoms to my purse than usual. Tomorrow I'd be leaving for the weekend so I might need more than usual. I stomped on the floor as I walked hoping I was disturbing the asshole in his apartment under mine.

Danny still hadn't knocked on my door to apologize by the time I was in my tub. Hot water and scented bath oil began to replace irritation at the asshole with peace and serenity. Then I had an idea and vaulted from the tub. Wrapping a towel around me, I was still dripping water on my hardwood floor as I went to a spot that I knew was directly over Danny's small den. On hands and knees, I put my ear to the floor. I didn't hear anything. Not even the TV.

"I know you're down there," I growled and stood up. "I know you're down there," I growled louder. I kicked at the floor only to end up on my ass as my foot skipped across the slippery wet, scented bath oil floor. "Oww," I cried. "Now look what you made me do!" I didn't know if I was accusing the floor or Danny or both.

Carefully standing up in the widening puddle of scented bath oil water, I rubbed my ass cheek and hobbled back to my bath. The fucking water was tepid by now and I really didn't feel like a bath anyway. I drained the tub and sluiced off suds and excess scented bath oil in my shower as I washed my hair.

Sitting gingerly on a bruised ass, I ate three packets of Pop-Tarts with two large glasses of milk while drying my hair. Feeling bloated, I made sure my damned alarm clock wasn't set to wake me up early when Danny usually woke me up. With a last muttered, Asshole, I huddled under my blankets and tried to sleep.

YESTERDAY AFTERNOON...

Charlie was tying rope around my ankle when I asked if I could have one of his photos to show a friend. Charlie had been dabbling with chains and manacles lately, so I was glad to be tied up with rope again. Even leather manacles tend to be uncomfortable when you're hanging from a beam by them.

Charlie was ecstatic to know someone local wanted to see his 'hobby'. Most of his admirers were spread out over the globe. He sent them photos and ideas for Kinbaku designs and they reciprocated. Charlie and I had a deal. My face couldn't be recognizable in any of the photos he sent out. I doubted my mom or dad would ever see any of Charlie's photos but there was never a way to tell if a friend of a friend wasn't a little kinky.

Once Charlie got his happy moments tying me to a bamboo framework, fucking me and then photographing me, he untied me. After I'd cleaned my tits of tributed cum, Charlie was happy to hand me an album that showed off his talent. I had to sit while Charlie turned the pages, pointing out how he'd gotten the shadows just right. He enjoyed talking about F Stops, lighting, and angles just as much as tying me up and taking the pictures.

I have to admit that Charlie is one hell of a photographer. He could take a picture of me lying on a plywood plank and by photoshop magic he could convincingly place me anywhere. Or I could wear whatever Charlie bought, whether lingerie or a micro-bikini, in front of a green screen, and the finished photo would convince anyone I was in a palace bedroom or on a beach in Rio.

I promised to return the album but Charlie said I could keep it. He'd make another that included the most recent photographs of me. I'd like to think that my sitting naked on the couch next to Charlie got him excited. But I think being able to talk to someone about his passions was what got his dick hard again. We'd already had sex while I was tied up but, setting the album aside, sex on the couch was much more comfortable.

Later in my apartment, Danny acted as excited as Charlie had as I handed him the album. We sat on my couch and he opened the album to the first picture. It showed my long legs tied together in intricate loops of rope. Focused on my legs, while you could tell I was naked, from my upper thighs to my breasts, the photo was just out of focus to only hint at the attributes of my nude torso.

"Damn! Now that's hot!"

"You think so," I asked.

"Hell, yes," Danny answered as he turned the page. In this photo, I was on my knees, my spine bowed backwards with my head thrown back. From my neck started a complex weave of rope over my chest and boobs. The weave continued down my taut stomach to end in ropes on either side of my pussy lips.

"Holy, shit! How long did it take to tie all that?"

"I think that took over an hour to get it right. Getting just the right photo took longer," I laughed. "My back was aching by the time Charlie got everything just right."

"I'm not sure I can take as good photos as he can," Danny mused, studying the weave pattern. "But I think I could do the rope stuff by using this picture as a guide."

"Oh? You want to tie me up," I asked. I turned the page. "Maybe tie me to a bed like this?"

"Oh, hell yes," Danny said.

"Mmm, want me to bring some rope home so you can practice," I asked with a playful shoulder bump. "Maybe while I'm wearing my cat costume?"

"Oh, hell yes," Danny repeated still looking at the photo of me tied face up and spread eagle on a bare mattress. I was blindfolded with intricate designs of rope twining from my neck to my ankles.

"I never would have thought you were the type to want me tied up. Helpless..." I pressed gradually closer to Danny until I was whispering the last words into his ear. "Unable to stop you from doing anything... you... want."

Danny shivered and pulled his ear away from my hot breath. "If I had you tied to a bed I don't think I'd ever let you go."

Danny turned page after page. Intricate Kinbaku patterns were mixed with simple pictures of my hands chained to a concrete wall or tied to a beam.

The next photo showed me tied face down on a couch. My arms resting on my back with my wrists tied. Hair covered my face enough to make it impossible to see much of my features but you could see that my mouth was open as if I were breathing hard. A shadowy figure sat astride my thighs. What wasn't in shadows was the hard cock nestled in my ass crack and the cum tributes on my ass cheeks.

Danny sat for several seconds barely moving, then hesitantly asked, "That's, umm. That's you?"

"Yes." I didn't lie but I could have kicked my own ass for not taking the time to look at all the photos to 'sanitize' the album of photos I thought Danny couldn't handle yet. Too late now…

This photo was harshly colorized. I was face up on a mattress, blindfolded and tied with rope crisscrossing around my tits with my hands bound under me. My knees were bent, my legs spread. Barely seen in the background was a man opening his trousers, his intent obvious.

I hadn't taken the time to look at all the pictures because I'd foolishly imagined that all the photos were of me tied up in various poses. There were only a few pages left when Danny turned the page and froze. This photo was of me, kneeling with my arms outstretched and tied to a frame. My breasts surrounded by a simple halter pattern in rope. But this photo also showed me with Charlie's cock in my mouth.

Danny's whole demeanor changed. He didn't make a comment like he'd been doing with other photos. Danny barely lingered on the photo and turned the page quickly. The next photo was even more explicit. I was on my back. My hands were tied with my legs spread-eagled on the side of the mattress; my ankles tied to the bed's frame. There was no doubt I was being fucked. Danny barely looked at this photo before turning the page.

The next photo was in color. The binding pattern around my tits was similar to one in a picture Danny had already looked at. Again, I was on my back with my hands bound under me. This was the most explicit photo of the bunch showing a cock in my ass.

There were a couple of more pages but Danny closed the album without looking at them. He handed the album to me and, without a word, got up from the couch to walk into my kitchen. Still sitting, I twisted so I could see him open the door to the refrigerator. "Danny, what's wrong," I asked. "I thought you liked the photos. That they're hot."

"They are. They really are," Danny replied without looking at me. Instead, he concentrated on opening a bottled water.

"So, it was the photos of me with Charlie you didn't like," I said to bring the elephant in the room out into plain sight. "But Danny. You've seen more graphic porn than that..."

Danny interrupted me, "Yeah, but I don't know those women!"

"But you know what I do. You've known for some time now and..."

"Don't you get it, Olivia," Danny interrupted me again. "Knowing what you do is a lot different than seeing it... I thought I was doing pretty good handling... You know, everything. I guess I just wasn't ready to have it shoved in my face."

"But it's just sex with my clients..."

"You keep saying that, Olivia. But it's not true! You've told me how great it is sometimes with, you know, your clients."

"But..."

"I know. I know! It's just sex," Danny interrupted. He still wasn't looking at me. Instead studying the bottle of water so intently he was probably counting the number of water molecules. "Sometimes... Damn it, Olivia! Sometimes I hate knowing what you do. Other times it excites the hell out'a me. I'm at work hauling bricks. Thinking about what you're probably doing while I'm stacking bricks. Who you're with. I can't stop getting a hard-on even when I don't like the thought of you with another guy."

I opened my mouth to say something, but Danny waved to stop me. "No. Let me get this all out while I can. I think of you with another guy and I feel bad and excited at the same time. I think about watching you with someone and I feel bad and excited. I imagine having a threesome and I feel bad and excited. This isn't anything I've ever had to think about and I just don't know how to handle it."

"But it's just sex…"

"You keep saying that," Danny interrupted me harshly. Walking to stand over me, he grabbed the album out of my hands and turned to a page. Showing me the photo, he stated, "Tell me that's 'just sex'. Tell me that you're not enjoying every minute."

Danny turned the page and thrust it in front of my face. "This one…" Danny turned the page again, "This one… All the rest! That's not you having just sex." Danny turned to a photo where I was being fucked. My mouth was open and could be interpreted two ways. A scream of pain at being taken fast in a dry pussy or a scream of pleasure at being fucked hard.

"Well? Pain or pleasure? Both? Admit it, Olivia, it isn't just sex for you a lot more times than you want to admit! Sometimes... Damn it, Olivia! Sometimes I hate knowing what you do. Other times it excites the hell out'a me. I'm at work hauling bricks. Thinking about what you're probably doing while I'm stacking bricks. Who you're with. I can't stop getting a hard-on even when I don't like the thought of you with another guy."

I opened my mouth to say something, but Danny tossed the album onto the couch next to me and waved to stop me. "No. Let me get this all out while I can. I think of you with another guy and I feel bad and excited at the same time. I think about watching you with someone and I feel bad and excited. I imagine having a threesome and I feel bad and excited. This isn't anything I've ever had to think about and I just don't know how to handle it."

"I'd say you're just a normal guy but you're not."

"Gee, thanks for thinking I'm abnormal," Danny said sarcastically.

"Hey, I let you have your say, so shut up," I said. "Thanks to The Bug you've got the sexual maturity of a fifteen-year-old. So of course, you get excited at the thought of a three-way. But you're studying science stuff and if you can't identify it, quantify it and understand it you can't handle it. Face it, you're a fifteen-year-old nerd about to graduate college."

"So, you think I need to grow up?!" Danny sounded a little pissed because I'd called him a nerd but he was!

"Yea! I think you need to grow up! Don't blame me for your shit. Yes, I like having sex with some clients but I've never felt the need to keep percentages of how many times I enjoyed it versus how many times I just did it. I've tried to explain how what I do doesn't mean what you think it means. So, go to a bar, pick up some girl to fuck and maybe you'll see how different being with her is from being with me."

"Why do you think there will be a difference? You sure do have an over-inflated opinion of yourself, Ms. Queen Bee!"

"OH! You asshole! Don't you even think about me being the same as The Bug!"

"Why not? Both of you think your looks make you special. Let's you think you can manipulate men like puppets."

"Well, you think you're special because you read books. Nerd!"

"Queen Bee!" Danny shouted back. Holding up a hand he stuck his little finger up into the air. "I'll just go and read something before you try to wrap me around your little finger like you once said you could!"

"Then go because I don't want you around my finger."

"Good!"

"Fine!"

"I'm gone," Danny said, walking to my door. "I'm behind on the shows I like. I can catch up now."

"Fine!" I said again as the door closed behind Danny. Raising my voice to be heard through the door, I yelled, "Spoiler Alert! Scooby Doo solves the case!"

I flopped down on my sofa and let my mad out. The more I thought, the more my anger smoldered. I couldn't figure out who'd won the argument! I thought some more and... I couldn't figure out what the hell we were fighting about!

Somehow our fight had jumped from bondage sex to Scooby Doo...

Well, at least I was sure it wasn't my fault!