Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Rainy Days

Tuesday, May 19, 2009
The rain season has officially begun here in South Florida, with morning and afternoon thunderstorms replenishing the dry, thirsty earth. After months of sunshine and blue skies, I find the rain to be a nice change of scenery, as well as an added boost to my career.

I got the call this morning at 11 a.m. My agent told me that there was a client who requested an afternoon booking, preferably at 1 p.m. I accepted it, and began rummaging through my closet to find my black slacks and a dress shirt.

"Oh, and bring your massage oils," my agent added. "Sounds like she needs a good rubdown."

"No problem. That's what I'm here for."

"Rubdowns and sex with women?"

"Absolutely. It beats selling jeans at the GAP."

* * *

The client led me into a spare bedroom, complete with massage table surrounded by votive candles, all of them flickering in their red holders. It almost reminded me of a Catholic Church, which made me feel a little uncomfortable until I remembered that I'd never been baptized.

She lay down on the table and waited for me to get to work. I slipped off my shoes and then stripped down to my boxers, knowing it'd be easier to just get my clothes off now than to fumble with them later.

I smoothed my hands over her back, then began kneading her shoulders and scalp. She softened beneath my touch, voicing her content and soft moans. So far, so good, but how long did she want this to continue?

She rolled over on her back and guided my hands over her breasts. I cradled them over her shirt, and soon lifted the garment over her head and started touching her bare skin, watching as she closed her eyes as I continued.

I'll cut to the chase -- soon she was naked and my hands were everywhere. I took out the oil I brought along with and poured it on her body, apologizing for the cool temperature but telling her it would warm up. Before long her skin was glistening and I had my tongue between her legs.

"Higher," she said. "Yeah, higher, there..."

Women often gave me directions, something they don't normally do. With her assistance i could give her much better oral sex than if I was working alone. Sucking her clit, I was careful not too be too rough not too gentle. The whole thing lasted about a half hour; when it comes to oral sex, women like men to take their time.

She came with a shudder and gently guided me face away from her pussy. I blotted my mouth with a tissue nearby, then wiped the sweat from my forehead. The client laid on the table for a little while before she got up and took me into another room with a big, king-sized bed ready.

After rolling on a condom we got to it, though I'll admit I didn't last long. She seemed satisfied, however, probably because I'd already gave her an orgasm with my tongue. As long as the client comes once, I know I've done my job.

As I waited for the taxi in the living room, I noticed the family portrait on the wall. Both kids looked like their mother, and their father looked like the kind of guy who got married because it was expected of him. No way would he reach senior partner at the law firm or investment bank without the requisite wife and kids.

Perhaps he's cheated on her as well; perhaps he's actually been faithful and his wife is the "bad" one. As for me, well, I'm just the hired help. But as I stepped into the cab and watched the rain pelt against the passenger window, I couldn't help but wonder if I was keeping marriages together, or tearing them apart.

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