Breaking Into the Business Read online

  There we were, standing naked in front of each other, staring at one another, taking in the sight. Even though the hallway was dark, I could still see the monstrous protrusion that stuck up past his waist as if making its way towards me. He was large, and as I stared at it, I became scared for the first time.

  He grinned at me with a mouth that looked hungry. As he stooped down, he threw both arms under me, lifting me off the ground. I wrapped both legs around his waist as he pulled me close to him, kissing my mouth again.

  I was too preoccupied to wonder where he was taking me. I presumed to the bedroom, but I was more concerned with the sensation of his manhood prodding at me from underneath. I could feel it pressing against me as he walked, as if it were a battering ram beating at my gates. The voracious part of me wanted to push myself down onto it, taking it in, but I stopped myself, allowing him to maintain control.

  I felt myself falling and I landed squarely onto the mattress. His room was dark, but the glow of the moon shown through the curtains. He buried his face in my breasts once again, but this time, he continued downwards, towards the part of me that had been untouched for so long.

  I looked down and saw the moonlight glistening off the muscles of Greg’s rippling back and down further to the two mounds that made up his beautiful ass. Oh god, I was in heaven.

  Then his mouth made contact with my inner thighs and I wanted to scream. I arched my back, reaching up and grabbing the pillow to put over my face to stifle my scream. The feeling of wanting to wake up his entire building with my cry came over me. As his head moved lower and he found the spot, I let go of the pillow and began pounding the mattress with my hands. His tongue was proving to be an expert at anything that it did.

  When I couldn’t handle anymore, I reached down and grabbed his shoulders, trying to distract him from his current action and to bring him up closer to me. Finally, he reluctantly relented and worked his way back up.

  He leaned in to kiss me again, but I held a finger up to stop him. He looked at me questioningly, but I just shook my head. I reached up, placed both of my palms on his chest, and then pushed him over.

  Landing against the mattress, I could see a smile develop on his face. Unlike me, he knew a lot about sex, and it didn’t take a scientist to know what I was about to do.

  I began by kissing his chest, working my way over each side, before I started kissing his abs as I worked my way down. When I reached his waist, I started rubbing my hands over his muscular thighs, feeling the soft tufts of hair between my fingers.

  Moving past his waist, I knew that this was the point of no return. Frank had enjoyed oral sex when we were married, but only if I performed it on him. Returning the favor was a rarity reserved for only the first couple of anniversaries, but never in the latter part of our marriage.

  For Greg, I felt like I would do anything. As I moved closer, I could feel his manhood sliding along my chest, between my breasts until it was level with my face. Then I took him in my mouth.

  I hadn’t done this in a long time, even longer ago than the last time I had had sex. Never before had I enjoyed it so much. It went beyond the mere physical sensation for me. The real thrill was from the way that I was making him feel. All night long, he had been the aggressor, but at that moment, I had full control. Now he was the one arching his back in pleasure, moaning and rubbing his own stomach. As he writhed on the bed, caught up in feeling of rapture, I began to grow so aroused.

  I needed him. I needed the feeling of him inside of me to complete this union that we had begun earlier in the night. I let go of him and worked my way back up. I didn’t make it very far, before he grabbed me and pulled me over onto the bed where I lay before.

  Before I knew what was happening, he was on top of me. It was strange, because I could feel him pressed against every inch of my flesh, but never did I feel the claustrophobic sensation of being crushed. No, it was a beautiful feeling to have his chest against mine, his face exploring my neck, and his hands pinning my shoulders down.

  With strong powerful legs, he pushed in between mine and separated them. They were flung open and his pelvis ground down on me. In one thrust, I could feel him enter me. I would have thought that I would need time to accustom myself to the entry, but my hunger overcame my trepidation, and my body seemed to invite him in.

  Chapter Six

  As I awoke, it took me a moment to realize where I was. Greg’s apartment. We had stayed up late into the night, but when I finally rested my head on his chest, sated from the strenuous physical activity that had seemed to go on and on without end, I fell deep into sleep.

  I sat up first and looked around. His bedroom looked different during the day. As the sun shot through the gaps between his curtains, it hit various places around the room, showing just how immaculate his place was. I was immediately taken aback at how clean and organized a bachelor’s place could be without the touch of a woman. I had a housekeeper that stopped by twice a week and his place looked better than my house ever had.

  I flung my feet over the side the bed, and as I stood, I felt the soreness down below. It had been a while since I had had sex, and my body was telling me that doing it four times in one night was not the way to ease back into it.

  His bathroom was even cleaner, if that was possible. I took care of nature’s call and then walked back into the bedroom. I passed his dresser and glanced in the mirror, realizing that I was still naked.

  My face flushed red and I ran towards the pile of my clothes in the corner. I grabbed my skirt first and I was trying to step inside to pull it up when Greg stirred.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m getting dressed,” I said, rolling my eyes that I even had to answer.

  “Nonsense,” he said. “Come back to bed.”

  “I really should be going,” I said.

  “You don’t have a few more minutes?” he asked.

  “No, I really should be going,” I said.

  The alcohol had worn off and now I could see the full picture of what I had just done. Basically, the night before, I had met a man, let him make out with me on the dance floor, and then went home and had sex with him four times. All of this leading up to the sex had only taken thirty minutes. The only word I could use to describe myself right then was whore. I could crawl into a hole and die.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” I said quietly.

  He pulled the covers back and stood up from the bed. He wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing, and somehow, despite the fact that I had seen him naked the night before, this fact embarrassed the hell out of me.

  I was trying to buckle my belt when he reached me. Embracing me in a hug, I gave up on trying to get dressed for a moment, and let my body sink into his.

  “Are you regretting last night?” he asked.

  I thought about it and realized that I was not. “No,” I said. “I’ve just had this problem where I didn’t know how to initiate things with a man. Now I realize that I’m being faced with that again. Last night, I had the alcohol and my friends pushing me, but now this morning, I’m completely sober and it’s just you and me.”

  “It was just us last night, too,” he said with a smile. “You were doing just fine then.”

  “We’re in the daylight now,” I said. “That’s different.”

  “Not really,” he said. “If you think about it, it’s the same, just at a different time.”

  “I hear what you’re saying,” I said as I pulled away from him and reached for my shirt. “I just have to work through this. I know that I can become comfortable, but it’s just really hard. I appreciate you being so patient with me.”

  “It’s no problem,” Greg said. “It’s all a part of the job.”

  I laughed, although I didn’t quite get what he was alluding to.

  “But seriously,” I said. “You were great.”

  “You were, too,” he said. “I just can’t believe we went for so long.”

>   “Me either,” I said. “You were able to go four times.”

  “I’ve had a few clients that wanted to go that long before, but it’s been a while,” he said.

  I stopped buttoning my shirt and dropped my arms down by my side. Watching his face, I tried to find some hint that he was joking or maybe it was just that I hadn’t caught the reference.

  “What do you mean?” I finally asked.

  “I’ve had clients that wanted to extend the normal time,” he said. By the look on his face, he was also clearly confused.

  “Clients?”

  “Yeah, clients.”

  “Clients for what? You sell real estate or something?”

  “Oh no,” he said. He plopped down on the bed and put his head in his hands.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “I can’t believe this,” he said. “I should have known that you didn’t understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  “Lana,” he said, looking back at me. “I have to tell you something, but please don’t be mad at me.”

  “What is it?”

  “I’m an escort.”

  “What?”

  “Like a man who accompanies women on dates,”

  “And has sex with them for money,” I finished the sentence. How could I have been so stupid to think that a man might genuinely be interested in me?

  “Don’t think about it like that,” Greg said, holding his hands out.

  “Seriously?” I looked at him incredulously. “I just slept with a prostitute.”

  “I prefer escort,” Greg said.

  “Oh, my god,” I shook my head. Maybe if I went back to sleep, I’d wake up in my own bed and this whole thing would have been another one of my crazy sex dreams.

  “There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Greg said. “I’ve had countless women hire me, and not all of them are the desperate freaks that you imagine they are. Some very attractive, put-together women call me.”

  “Are you saying that I’m one of those miserable, un-put-together ones?”

  “Come on now, Lana,” he said. “You know I didn’t say that.”

  “So how much do I owe you?”

  “My normal rate is two hundred dollars an hour,” Greg said. He looked at me for a moment, studying my face, and then he spoke again. “Actually, don’t worry about it.”

  “No, I want to pay what I owe.”

  “No, seriously, don’t worry about it.”

  “Look,” I said, no longer bothering to hide the fact that I was exasperated and embarrassed by this whole ordeal. “I need to leave here with some shred of my dignity. The fact that I slept with a gigolo and now owe him money is bad enough, but now you want to give me a freebie.”

  “Don’t look at it that way,” he pleaded. “Seriously, we’ll just look at it like two people who met and had a great time. My profession should have nothing to do with this.”

  “Except for the fact that you just tried to charge me.”

  “I wasn’t trying to charge you.”

  “You weren’t?” I stared at him. “This is so completely humiliating. I really just want to leave. Just tell me what my total is.”

  “Zero dollars,” he said, forcing a smile.

  “You are pissing me off,” I said. “Tell me the amount.”

  “No,” he said. “I won’t do this.”

  “We’ve already done this,” I came back quickly. “So just spill it.”

  Luckily, I had already finished getting dressed, so that as I stormed out of his apartment, I was decent. As I rushed through his living room, I noticed a card on the bar top with his name on it. For some reason that I could not fathom, I grabbed the card and stuffed it into my purse as I left.

  As far as I was concerned, he could drop off a cliff. How could he have been so deceptive? Was that how he turned most of his tricks? I could just see him going to that bar, night after night, looking for the loneliest woman he could find and then preying on her and taking her home, only to give her the bill once they were finished.

  I walked out onto the street and waited a few minutes for a cab to come by. As I flagged the taxi down, I turned and looked back at his apartment, and a small part deep inside me felt a pang of sadness that he had not come out to try and catch me.

  I had heard of the walk of shame many times, but the cab ride back to my car had to be even worse. I sat in the backseat, miserable to the point that it was all I could do hold the tears back. I felt used and dirty, like one of those country town service station bathrooms. How had I sunk so low?

  The cab took me to my car, which was still parked where I had left it the night before in the parking lot of the bar. From there, the trip to my house didn’t take long at all, since luckily it was early enough that traffic was minimal.

  When I arrived home, Betsy’s car was in the driveway. I rolled my eyes and thought about driving to the nearest airport so that I could board a plane to take me far, far away from here. I knew that even if I tried to hide the facts of the night before and this morning, she would wring it out of me like a wet rag.

  I fumbled with my keys before the lock finally gave in. I tried to open the door quietly so that I wouldn’t wake anyone. As I gently shut the door, I listened for any noise in the house and heard nothing. Maybe I could get into my room and in my bed before Betsy or the kids woke up, and then I wouldn’t have to face the inevitable shame.

  As I walked into the kitchen, someone cleared their throat.

  Betsy sat up from the couch, a smile already forming on her face. She stood up and straightened out her skirt and with one flip of her head, her hair had settled back into place.

  “How do you do that?” I asked her, pointing at her head.

  “Lots of money, dear,” she said without a hint of jest in her voice. “Now, go change into something a little more appropriate for the morning after, and I’ll make us a pot of coffee.”

  “Okay,” I said and headed towards my bedroom.

  “Wait a minute,” she spoke again, stopping me in my tracks. “Should I make a full pot?”

  I grinned to mask my shame. “Yes, this will definitely require a full pot.”

  My bedroom was just as I had left it. I threw my purse on the bed, and then found a pair of running shorts and an old t-shirt on a shelf in the closet. Slipping out of my bar wear, I threw on the immensely more comfortable garments and started for the kitchen. I stopped long enough to look at my disheveled hair in the mirror. Pulling the tangled mess up on my head, I used a clip to hold it in place.

  Betsy already had a cup of coffee waiting for me at the breakfast table when I reached the kitchen. She patted the spot in front of her, indicating for me to sit in front of her.

  “Thank you for stopping by here last night,” I told her. “You didn’t have to stay, but I appreciate it.”

  “It’s no problem,” she said. “I realized that I was really tired and wasn’t sure if I could make the whole drive back home without falling asleep.”

  “You’re welcome here anytime,” I said.

  “Okay now, cut the crap,” she said. “We don’t have enough coffee for pleasantries. Get to the juicy stuff.”

  “Last night and this morning was the worst few hours of my entire life,” I announced.

  “Was he bad in bed? Was it small?”

  “No!” I said, shushing her, just in case the kids were awake and might hear. “The sex was phenomenal, and I’ve never felt anything close to what I felt with him.” I took a deep breath and then continued, “We went back to his place and within seconds, we were ripping each other’s clothes off and going down on each other and then we had sex.”

  “Okay?” Betsy said when I paused.

  “Four times.”

  “Wow,” she smiled. “That’s a lot.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then what’s the problem?” she asked.

  “Well, this morning as I was getting up and getting dressed, he woke up and handed me the bill.”
/>   “The bill?”

  “The bill for the night before,” I said.

  “You mean the bar tab?” she asked.

  “No, the bill for the sex,” I said.

  “Oh, my god,” Betsy gasped. “You slept with a gigolo.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Yes, I slept with a man-whore,” I said. “I can’t believe I was so stupid.”

  “Did he say anything the night before about charges or anything that would lead you to believe what he was?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “I’ve played it over and over in my head, and I can’t think of a single clue.”

  “Would you even know the clues?” Betsy asked.

  “No, not really.”

  “Then he probably gave some clues and you just weren’t aware.”

  “Would you have known?” I asked her.

  “Probably,” she said. “But then again, men have a hard time spinning a game on me. I have a whole process all my own that usually dwarfs any stunts they’re trying to pull to get me in bed.”

  I chuckled, then reached down and took a sip of my coffee.

  “So did you pay him?” Betsy asked.

  “I tried to,” I said. “But he wouldn’t let me. He refused to even tell me the amount.”

  “So you got free sex from a gigolo,” Betsy noted. “That’s not a bad night. I don’t see what you’re so upset about.”

  “I trusted him. I thought he was interested in me, but it turns out that he was only interested in my money.”

  “Are you being serious?” Betsy asked, tilting her head sideways and scowling at me. “You meet a guy in a bar, and within an hour you are sleeping with him. And you are concerned about trust of all things?”

  “Of course. I don’t see the problem with that.”

  “Because someone you are trying to have a one night stand with isn’t interested in trust and neither should you. It takes more than a half hour to really begin to trust someone.”

  “I get what you’re saying,” I nodded. “But there has to be a certain degree of trust when something like sex happens.”

  “Bullshit,” Betsy said. “It’s not like you were on a date or anything. You went to bar, made out with a guy, and went back home and slept with him. The only trust you should be worried about is the very basic trust that he’s not a serial killer. Other than that, you’re looking for the wrong thing here, dear.”