The anticipation and anxiety for my first appointment had been building all morning, and as I turned the key in the ignition of the Benz outside Off the Avenue, my hand was trembling, and my stomach was in knots. I stepped out of the car and smoothed my tight pencil skirt down the front of my thighs.
I scanned the parking lot for a man alone, not knowing what Mickey looked like. I had arrived almost ten minutes early, and when no one stood out, I assumed he had not yet arrived. Outwardly, I appeared like an intelligent businesswoman waiting for others to join me for lunch; inside, I was a jumble of nerves. Would Mickey find me attractive? Would I be capable of sharing lunch with a total stranger and then offering him my body? I wasn't sure of that.
As I toyed with my perfectly teased auburn hair, a black SUV swerved into a space two beyond the Benz. I watched with extraordinary interest as the driver got out and slammed the door shut. An instant later, he rounded the back, a pleasant smile on his lips.
"Angel?" he asked as he approached.
I extended my hand and replied, "Yes, Mickey?"
"I'm so sorry I'm late; traffic was horrendous,” he said apologetically.
I smiled and offered, "You're not late; I was a few minutes early."
As we shook hands, he replied, "You're very kind, and absolutely gorgeous."
His compliment put my nervous anxiety at ease, and the knots in my stomach disappeared.
Mickey released my hand and moved his to the small of my back. "Shall we?" he asked, motioning toward the entrance.
His hand remained on my back until we neared the door, then slipped off as he reached for the handle and pulled it open for me. I stepped inside, and said, "Thank you,”
Off the Avenue is a bright and cheery place—festive decor and tables for small groups. The tables are covered with Mackenzie-Childs-style black and white checkerboard tablecloths. Some tables set for parties of four and others for more intimate parties of two. Floral arrangements served as centerpieces on every table.
A young woman greeted us as we stepped inside. Mickey grinned politely at her and said, "Reservation for Mouse."
“Of course, Mr. Mouse, your table is prepared,” she replied.
My broad smile and soft chuckle acknowledged that the reservation was made in a fictitious name.
"Right this way, Mr. Mouse,” she said, unknowing that she was seating such a famous person.
Mickey motioned for me to follow her, and then he slowly walked behind me. I seized the opportunity to practice my most seductive walk as I was sure he was carefully examining my shapely legs and the seams running up the back.
"Here we are,” the girl announced, reaching our table for two.
"Thank you," Mickey said.
"You're welcome; enjoy your lunch,” she replied.
Mickey helped me with my chair and then sat across the table from me. His hands rested flat on the table beside the lovely place setting.
I smiled, then reached around the flowers and placed my hand on his.
"I love your sense of humor," I commented.
His broad grin acknowledged that he appreciated that I'd picked up on his fictitious last name.
Our waitress arrived carrying two menus and a wine list. As she mentioned the specials for the day, I studied his face. His hair was average length, and its salt and pepper color gave him a distinguished look. Mickey has steel gray eyes that look as if they could pierce your soul if he stared long enough. He was clean-shaven and had a light olive complexion that I guessed was of Middle Eastern ancestry.
"I'll give you a few minutes to browse the menu, and then I'll be ready to take your order," she said after finishing with the specials.
"Would you like a drink, Angel?" Mickey asked, his use of my name, bringing me back from my semi-dream state while I studied his very handsome face.
"Yes, please. I'd love a glass of white wine,” I quickly answered, thinking I needed to pay closer attention to my surroundings.
He smiled and looked at our waitress. "A bottle of Riesling will be fine,” he said.
Mickey obviously was somewhat of a connoisseur, ordering a German white that goes well with several types of food.
Once alone, Mickey turned his attention to me. His eyes, those piercing steel gray eyes, thoroughly studying my face. "Your pictures don't do you justice,” he remarked.
"Now, who's being very kind," I replied, mimicking his comment outside the cafe.
Within a few minutes, Mickey had put my mind at ease, and since the luncheon crowd wasn't large, I felt comfortable speaking openly. "What photos did the office send you?" I asked.
"I received three pictures on my iPhone,” he replied as he reached into the breast pocket of his sports jacket.
He pressed a button or two, then slid the phone across the checkerboard tablecloth. Three tiny images were displayed on the screen, too small to see any detail but large enough to see which three he'd received. One was a close-up headshot taken during the first set with Craig. The second was a shot of my exposed back with my head turned, looking over my shoulder, and of course, there was one of my head resting seductively over the skull of a pure white polar bear.
"Those were taken just yesterday," I commented, knowing that Mickey had scheduled our appointment before he knew what I looked like.
The waitress returned with our wine and, after pouring a tiny amount into Mickey's glass for his approval, finished filling his and then my glass.
"I think you'll enjoy this vintage," he remarked.
I lifted my glass first to toast him, then took a sip. The Riesling had a distinctive apple flavor that appealed to my palate. "This is lovely," I remarked after savoring the taste of the fine wine.
His smile acknowledged that he was happy I was pleased.
"Are you ready to order?" the young waitress asked.
I hadn't even looked at the menu, but Mickey was familiar with the cafe's offerings. "We'll have the blackened swordfish,” he replied.
"Very good. Please enjoy your wine,” she said, then turned to place our luncheon order.
As Mickey returned his attention to me, I smiled and said, "I love a man who takes charge." Letting him know that I could easily be turned into pudding by his charms.
I wasn't sure if asking more about him was appropriate since this was my first appointment, so I kept the conversation directed to Elegant Escorts.
"Have you had appointments with any of our other girls?" I asked.
He smiled and then answered, "All five and several who are no longer with the firm."
I liked the fact that Daddy had scheduled me with a repeat customer. It eased me further, knowing his gentlemanly approach would most likely continue after lunch.
"When the office notified me of your employment, I automatically scheduled an appointment,” he explained.
"Why is that?" I questioned him.
He grinned and said. "Never been disappointed before, and I'm certain that streak will continue."
I was sure his comment meant he couldn't wait for our appointment to move forward later this afternoon.
"Thank you. I'll try my best to exceed your expectations,” I quietly replied.
I saw no reason why a little flirting during lunch would be taken as something less than classy, so when I lifted my wine glass to my lips, I also lifted my other delicate hand to the pure white silk fabric above the lapel of my suit coat.
Mickey's eyes were drawn to my slim fingers and followed the sexy French manicured nails as they slowly slid down toward the vee of my jacket. His smile told me that a bit of light flirting was fine with him.
He scanned the surrounding tables and, after confirming no one in particular was within earshot, quietly asked. "How long have you been in the business?"
I smiled softly, then leaned closer to him, our faces separated by the lovely floral arrangement I whispered, "I'm a virgin, Mr. Mouse."
His somewhat surprised expression acknowledged that he was led to believe I had moved to Elegant Escorts from some other similar business arrangement.
"I'll be gentle,” he replied, a smile on his lips.
I returned his smile with an even broader one, then said, "Not too gentle, I hope."
His hand slid across the table and slowly covered mine. The warm, soft texture of his palm felt wonderful, and I shuddered briefly as a result of his gentle touch.
"Your swordfish,” the waitress said, interrupting a most pleasurable moment.
Our lunch was placed in front of us—a delicious-looking fillet of fish surrounded by bright vegetables and the obligatory red-skinned potato sliced in thin slivers. The aroma of the blackened swordfish was heavenly, and my mouth watered slightly in anticipation of the first taste.
"You'll love this dish," Mickey commented as he unfolded his checkerboard napkin and placed it on his lap.
I picked mine up at one corner and let it fall open then, placed it on my lap.
"It's best when it is still pipping hot," Mickey said as he pressed his fork into the inch-thick swordfish steak.
I used my knife to slice through the perfectly prepared fish, then lifted a morsel to my mouth.
It tasted better than it smelled. "It melts in your mouth," I commented after my taste buds nearly exploded with the wonderful flavor, and I swallowed my first bite.
Mickey waved his fork in the air and then said. "Well, dig in, darlin."
His use of that term of endearment made me smile, but I took his advice and began eating my meal with the same gusto as him.
I took a sip of wine, and as Mickey had mentioned earlier, its flavor accentuated the excellent taste of the fish.
I quickly learned that the experiences of our clientele, who could enjoy the finer things in life without concern for the cost, was a benefit I'd enjoy immensely.
Mickey and I finished our meal almost simultaneously, and as he placed his napkin over the empty plate, he said, "Can I refill your wine?"
"Oh yes, please,” I quickly replied, wanting to enjoy the apple fragrance and sweet taste of the wine.
Our waitress returned and, while clearing the dishes, asked, "Can I interest you in dessert?"
Without turning his attention to the young woman and keeping his steely, gray eyes fixed on mine, he replied, "No, thank you. We're having dessert elsewhere later."
My smile acknowledged that I understood that I would be his dessert and he would be mine.
"Very good. I'll bring your check when you've finished your wine," she explained as she turned and walked away.
Mickey lifted his wine glass and offered a whispered toast, "Here's to exceptional lovemaking."
I clinked my glass lightly against his, then added, "With a perfect gentleman."
As we finished our wine, I decided I had to know more about this remarkable man. "Can I ask you a personal question?" I said.
"Certainly,” Mickey quickly replied.
"I'm wondering what you do for a living," I asked.
"I was in investments for a very long time. Fortunately, some returned far more than anticipated; now I enjoy the results of those extraordinary returns,” he explained.
I assumed that what his explanation meant was that he had made a killing in the stock market. Perhaps if he were pleased later and became a steady client, I could draw on his knowledge as my nest egg grew.
Mickey's cell phone rang, and he excused himself, standing and walking away to take a private call.
Watching him walk away, I glanced at the clock across the room. It was two fifteen. Amazingly, our appointment had taken almost two hours, and I anxiously awaited the next part of our afternoon.
Mickey slipped his cell back into his breast pocket and then walked to where our waitress was waiting for him to finish his call. He returned to our table, and instead of sitting, he leaned down and whispered in my ear, "I can't wait to get you alone."
He helped me out of my chair and, like he did when we first met, moved his hand to the small of my back—but this time, his hand applied more pressure, and an all too familiar warmth flamed up in my loins.
This time, when he held the door as we left the cafe, his hand slipped from my back; I captured it with my delicate hand and held on.
Hand in hand, we walk across the small distance to the curb.
"Where did you park?" Mickey asked.
I pointed to my Benz and said. "I'm right here."
He turned to face me and held both hands between us. "Are you sure you're a virgin?" he asked with a broad smile on his lips.
I chuckled and, as I nodded toward my costly ride, said, "The fruits of a previous life."
"I was going to suggest that you ride with me, but this isn't the kind of car you just let parked anywhere for too long,” he remarked.
"I could follow you," I suggested.
He smiled and said, "I'd rather not let you out of my sight. I'll ride with you and send someone for my car later."
I slipped my hand from his and into my small clutch, retrieving my key, "I have a better idea. How about you drive,” I said, handing him my key.
"Sweet," Mickey exclaimed, then asked, "Do you trust me?"
"Explicitly,” I immediately replied.
I approached the passenger side door and waited for my gentleman escort to open it. As I slipped into the passenger seat, I let my tight skirt ride up my legs, giving Mickey a glimpse of the darker top of my silk stockings.
He lingered for a moment, enjoying the view of my shapely legs, then closed the door and rounded the front of the Benz.
"These are such awesome cars,” he commented as he slipped in beside me.
As he gunned the motor and the Benz reacted, I wondered if I'd made a mistake letting him get behind the wheel of my car, but he slowed down as we turned onto the avenue and headed for... well, I wasn't sure where we were headed so I asked, "Where are you taking me?"
Mickey glanced toward me and then said, "I have an apartment downtown for private meetings."
"Sounds good to me," I answered.
I wanted to get the negotiations for my tip taken care of before we arrived at his place, but I wasn't sure how to start.
"Mickey, we should agree..” he interrupted me. "Three hours five hundred an hour." Stating his initial offer. Which I quickly accepted.
"My game, my rules,” he added as a condition of his offer.
"I'm good with that,” I instantly replied.
He giggled and then said, "You're not a very good negotiator, Angel. You should always make a counteroffer to see if someone is willing to agree to more."
I turned slightly toward him, lifting my thigh, and gave him a shapely leg to gaze at. "Your offer is more than fair, and I wouldn't want to negotiate myself out of a possible repeat appointment," I said.
"Excellent point," Mickey responded.
I had one final hurdle to clear, which I suspected would be a walk in the park, considering I found him extremely attractive and very sexy.
Mickey steered the Benz into a narrow driveway between two very tall buildings. Just inside, there was a guard shack and a yellow gate, much like you'd see at a municipal parking garage. He slowed the Benz to a stop beside the shack.
"New ride, Mickey?" the attendant asked.
"Nope, I borrowed this from a good friend,” he replied.
As the attendant raised the gate, he remarked, "Wish I had such friends."
Driving through the gate, we started up a very steep incline, which led to the second story, where an oversized, well-lit private garage was located.
Driving to his assigned spot, I noticed almost every car looked expensive. "There must be a couple million dollars worth of cars in here," I remarked as he pulled into space eight seventy-five.
"Let me guess? Eighth-floor apartment number seventy-five," I asked.
He smiled, then replied, “You're good."
I leaned over and ran the backs of my fingers along his jaw. "We'll see," I said, letting my sexy nails linger on his flesh.
As he handed me my key, Mickey said, "Please, let me get the door for you."
I smiled and nodded yes, knowing he had an ulterior motive to have a closer look at my shapely, sexy legs.
He had parked a little closer than he should have to the car next to us, and with the wide doors of the Benz coupe, he couldn't open it fully. I twisted in the seat, and as I lifted my heels over the rocker panel, my skirt rode up my thighs, giving him a spectacular view of not only the lacey tops of my stockings but the creamy smooth flesh above.
"Sorry about the tight fit,” he said as I sidestepped toward the rear of the car.
As I squeezed between him and the quarter panel, I pressed my body against his. "I'm hoping for a very tight fit," I said.
His sexy grin confirmed he was hoping for the same.
I pressed the lock button as we walked away and heard the familiar double beep signaling the Benz alarm was activated.
"This way," Mickey said, touching my back, but this time, he allowed it to ride a little lower, feeling the movement of my ass as we walked.
The antiquated elevator took far too long, lifting us to the eighth floor, giving him time to stare deeply into my eyes with his steel gray heart piercers.
My anticipation had been building ever since we left the restaurant, and as we walked down the long hall toward apartment seventy-five, I could feel the moisture build in my pussy.
"That's a long walk," I commented as Mickey inserted his key in the lock.
As he pushed the door open, he replied, "Hope it didn't wear you out."
I turned sideways, and as I slipped by his outstretched arm, I said, "Nope, that's your job."
Mickey closed and locked the door, then took my hand and led me into his apartment. It was well-appointed with costly-looking furniture, but it lacked a woman's decorating touch. In one corner of the room, a winding spiral staircase led to a loft overlooking the very comfortable room.
"Make yourself at home,” he said as we walked into the living room.
I smiled and said, "Thank you, Mick."
"Can I make you a drink?" he asked.
I wanted a clear head, so I declined, "I'm good, thanks."
"Mind if I have one?" He asked.
I smiled and then reminded him, "Your game, your rules."
He walked to the handsome bar in one corner of the room and poured himself a glass of what I assumed was straight bourbon. After dropping a couple of ice cubes in the drink, he returned to where I was standing.
"I said you could make yourself at home,” he repeated.
The furniture was arranged in the living room so that four or five people could sit facing each other, and I didn't see a television, which I figured was in another room. As Mick— I'd decided to shorten his name—sat down on one end of the large black leather sofa. I walked across the room to the picture window. His apartment overlooked the downtown area, and I could see people eight stories below scurrying back and forth, taking care of business.
I decided it was time for me to do the same. Turning to face him, I smiled and slowly unbuttoned my suit jacket. As it fell open, I began walking toward him very slowly and very seductively. My jacket slipped off my shoulders, and I lay it over one of the black leather chairs facing the sofa where Mick sat, his steel gray eyes fixed on me.
Mick reached to his right and picked up a remote control; he pointed it toward the bar. Soft rock instantly began to fill the room, seemingly coming from all four corners.
"Stop,” he said, holding his hand up toward me.
I did as instructed, letting my legs stretch the pencil skirt taut over my sexy thighs.
He smiled and then said, "Strip for me."
I returned his smile with a sensual one of my own as my hips began moving to the sounds of a song I knew, but couldn't remember the name.
Mick had his hypnotic eyes focused on me as my hips gyrated to the strong beat of the music.
I slid my outstretched fingers up over the white silk blouse covering my abdomen, then my breasts, pressing them together and leaning slightly toward him, allowing a sensuous glimpse at my lush, deep cleavage.
Mick smiled, knowing that my seductive strip tease wouldn't be over until he was thoroughly aroused.
I moved my fingers to the silk fabric just below the collar, then down to toy with the first tiny unopened button. My French manicured nails teased with the button momentarily, then slipped it through the small opening.
Mick smiled and then said, "You're such a tease."
"You have no idea," I replied as I dropped my delicate fingers to the next button.
Four buttons and two songs later, my sexy silk blouse lay open to the waistline of my tight skirt.
Mick leaned forward and slipped out of his sport coat, tossing it to the opposite end of the leather sofa.
"Getting warm?" I asked.
He smiled, then replied, "A little."
I turned up the heat, slipping my fingers beneath the silk, and as I slid them up across the open buttons, I spread it further until it stretched on either side of my black-lace-covered tits.
My hips continued their seductive gyrations as my feet moved until I was dancing with my back to him.
Outstretched fingers with flashing white tips slowly slid from the back of my thighs up over my shapely ass, then came together at the tiny metal tab topping the zipper of my skirt.
I slowly drew it down the scant six inches, releasing my stove pipe skirt's firm grip around my waist but doing nothing to release the tight fit over my hips.
My hands slid back up to grasp the material at my waist, and then I began moving my hips front and then backward. Each time I moved them forward, I slipped the fabric down a little, and each time I moved back, the skirt stretched tight over my ass.
"You are so hot!" Mick exclaimed as my sexy garment slowly descended from my ass.
It's amazing how long it can take to slide one small garment off your body when you're trying to arouse the man watching so intently. Finally, the skirt fell to the floor around my heels.
The silk blouse covered my ass but did little to hide the outline of the firm cheeks. Below the hem of my blouse, my creamy thighs and the silk-seamed stockings that covered my shapely legs were exposed to his voyeuristic stare.
I stepped out of the puddle of fabric around my feet and then kicked my skirt aside.
"Gorgeous legs,” Mick complimented me from behind.
My hips and ass picked up the beat of the music and again began moving seductively as my fingers quickly undid the final two buttons of my blouse.
I slipped the slinky garment off my shoulders and held it with my left hand as I stretched my arm to my side. The silk blouse fluttered to the floor when I opened my hand.
I let Mick enjoy the view of my creamy-white ass accentuated by the thin straps of my black thong and seamed stocking for a moment or two, then gyrated my hips along with my feet to turn and face him.
Mick apparently is an ass and legs man because as I faced him, I noticed a rather sizable bulge in his tailored slacks, the apparent effect of the sensual removal of my skirt and blouse.
His tongue moistened his lips in anticipation as his sexy eyes gazed longingly at the soft cleavage now exposed in the deep vee of my lace bra.
I began dancing toward him, then paused to lean slightly forward and drew my shoulders in, allowing the satiny straps to slip from my shoulders partway down my arms.
Without straightening up, I slipped my fingers into the lush cleavage between my tits, then slowly peeled the lace cups down off my pleasure spheres.
He gasped as I straightened up, and my breasts were finally exposed to his lecherous gaze.
My hands slid over the hard nubs centered on each breast, and I took time to roll the taut nipples between thumb and forefinger slowly.
My dance moved forward, and his legs opened wider to allow me to dance to the edge of the couch. My flaring hips and lush firm tits swayed independently of each other, giving him more gyrating flesh to stare lustfully at.
His slacks were now tented by the surging erection they covered.
I slowly dropped to my knees between his thighs. My skillful fingers reached out and undid the buttons at his wrists, then slid in to gently squeeze the firm muscles on top of his thighs.
As I moved my hands up each strong leg toward the buttons that held his shirt together, I paused to softly stroke his rock-hard cock through the fabric that imprisoned it.
Mick moaned softly as my delicate caress moved along the object of my desire.
I didn't take nearly the amount of time unbuttoning his shirt as I had my blouse, but I still took time to lightly scratch his flesh as my deft digits descended toward his waist.
His eyes—those awesome piercing steel gray eyes—stared intently into mine as I tugged the shirt from beneath his slacks. He leaned slightly forward as I peeled the garment off his shoulders, then tossed it toward his sports coat.
I leaned back and surveyed his naked torso. His pectoral muscles were well-defined and covered by a hint of hair. Erect nipples rose from his tanned chest, begging to be suckled. Below, while not as defined, his abdominal muscles still formed a perfect six-pack of very kissable flesh.
I smiled and then asked, "You must work out often?"
"Not as often as I should,” he replied, his eyes briefly rising to mine from their lustful gaze on my tits.
"Do you like my tits?" I asked, knowing it was a silly question.
He leaned forward just a tad and whispered, "Angel, I love your tits."
I smiled, then leaned forward, placing my soft full tits in his lap. To the slow beat of Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody, I began sliding my tits over his rock-hard cock. Moving side to side, then back and forth, my lush pleasure mounds caressed his imprisoned erection.
I tilted my head back and stared into his sexy eyes as my tits continued their slow sensual massage of his throbbing cock.
"Do you want me to take it out?" I asked, seemingly filled with silly questions at the moment.
Mick replied with one word, "Yes!"
I reached out with one hand to undo his belt and slipped the other between my lush tits.
Not wanting to sound silly again, I said, "I want that hard cock right here."
His belt opened, and my hands quickly undid the clasp of his slacks. Holding the waistband with two sexy fingers, I extended my pinkie of the other, much like an elegant lady would hold a delicate tea cup, and pulled his zipper open.
Mick lifted his hips, and in an instant, his slacks were around his ankles. I reached down and slipped off both loafers, tossing them aside, then gathered his slacks and disposed of them also.
His black silk boxers tented up, stretched by the rock-hard cock beneath.
I moved forward and slid my tits over the silk, eliciting another sensual moan from his throat. The silk fabric caressed my hard nipples, and they began tingling as they slipped over the smooth material.
His throbbing cock twitched involuntarily, pressing against the silk, begging to be released.
As my fingers moved to the bottom of two buttons that held his boxers around his waist, I looked into his sexy eyes and whispered, "I love hard cock between my tits.
The button slipped through the small hole, and I slipped my delicate fingers through the opening, finding his throbbing shaft. My fingertips danced along the quivering flesh until they reached the bulging smooth cock head at the end.
Mick groaned deeply when my hand circled his velvety head, and I slowly drew it through the opening of his boxers.
His manly scent instantly wafted into my nostrils, and my brain sent a signal to my saliva glands, causing my mouth to water.
His cock was throbbing intensely in my hand; the velvety smooth head poised a good eight inches above the silk opening it extended from.
I leaned forward and softly placed his cock between my lush firm tits, deep in the soft cleavage
"Fuck them,” I pleaded.
Mick's hips began slowly thrusting up off the leather couch.