Hotel room. Dim light from the hallway spills in. Scratch at the door. Heart jumps. I open it. There she stands—blonde bombshell, blue eyes piercing. Ingrid. Patrick’s ‘gift.’ My cock twitches instantly. What the fuck? She’s real, flesh and curves, not some fantasy.
She steps in, room too small. Our bodies brush. Perfume hits me—musky, intoxicating. ‘Hi, I’m Ingrid,’ she purrs, sitting on the bed edge. Nylon whispers as thighs part slightly. I call Patrick. He laughs. Free escort. To keep me company. Bullshit. My mind races. Dick hardens. This is wrong. Paid company. But her eyes? Innocent hunger.
The Awakening
I invite her to dinner. Chic spot. She agrees, promises to dream me up. Excitement surges. Shower fast. Pulse pounds. Downstairs early. Scotch burns. Patrick grins. ‘She doesn’t fuck, usually.’ My gut twists. Want her bad. Illegal thrill. Escort taboo.
She arrives. Black dress clings. Slit to thigh. Black stockings. Heels click. Tits strain lace bra. Nipples hint. I stare. She knows. Sits close. Sips my scotch. Tongue flicks glass. ‘Your thoughts?’ Hand on mine. Heat rises. We drive. Silence thick. Thighs rub in car. Cock strains pants.
Restaurant. Dim lights. Her leg presses mine under table. Talk flows. She’s smart. Trilingual. Saving for school. But eyes fuck me. I grab her hand. She trembles. Leans in. Cleavage opens. Full tits, moles, hard nips. I ache to suck. ‘Like them?’ she whispers. ‘Fuck yes.’ Leg grinds. Pre-cum leaks. Tension coils. Forbidden. She’s pro. But real?
The Act
Bill paid. Walk out arm-in-arm. Parking lot. Car. She turns cheek. Hand stops my lips. ‘Be good.’ Kiss palm instead. ‘From Laure.’ Who? Real name? She flees. Cock throbs unmet. Night dreams her. Naked. Riding me. Pussy wet, tight. Wakes sweating, hard.
Morning. Hungover on lust. Obsessed. Patrick laughs. ‘Pay next time.’ Fuck that. Phone rings. Her voice. Soft. Wants to see me. But rules. Job. No private. Heart sinks. Rage. She’s playing. Pro tease. ‘All act?’ I snap. She cracks. ‘Never fucked clients. But you… different.’ Hangs. Then calls back. ‘Hand kiss? Real. From Laure.’ Boom. Hope ignites.
Back to normal. Work. Hotel. But inside? Fire burns. Secret pulse. That tease. Her scent lingers. Tits in mind. Thighs imagined spread. No one knows. My dirty thrill. Transgression complete. Craved the edge. Got it. Want more. Deeper. Whatever she hides.