Corporate America

There’s nothing sexier than a woman in a suit.

True, divorceés are my most frequent customers, but that’s not to say I don’t entertain a high-powered corporate woman from time to time. Sometimes, they’ll arrive to the hotel straight from work, which means they’re still wearing office attire -- normally a pantsuit or a blazer and skirt. Colors are usually black, white or navy, and hair and makeup are always kept to a minimum.

The hotel was small -- boutique, even, which makes for a more intimate first meeting. Whenever I meet a client in the Loews Miami Beach or the Marriott in the Brickell business district, there are usually lots of people around. In a boutique hotel, that’s not the case. Often times I can spot the client as soon as I get in, because she very well may be one of the few people in the lobby.

After meeting the client at the bar, I took a moment to size her up. She was in her early forties (either that or she had a brilliant dermatologist and/or plastic surgeon), trim, and just a little bit on edge. My best guess is that she’d never used an escort before, and either expected me to be hideously ugly or painfully young.

“Don’t be nervous,” I said to her. “I’ve been doing this for awhile. You’re in good hands.”

“You’re young,” she replied. “Early-twenties young.”

“Yes, I am. But you should know by first serious relationship was with a married woman. Like I said, I’ve been doing this for awhile. But if you like, I can leave. Maybe if you call my agent she can find someone else, but on such short notice--”

“No -- don’t go,” she said. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Don’t worry about it. Shall we?”

By the time we reached the hotel room and lay down on the bed, I was undressing her piece by piece. To my surprise, her underwear was much sexier than I expected it to be. Sheer black panties along with a matching bra, allowing me to see everything she had to offer before the garments came off. And unlike most young women, she didn’t wax her genitals.

Who ever thought pubic hair would become a rare sight?

Though not waxed, she was impeccably groomed, and only tickled my face as I licked her for a good half hour. After slipping on the condom, I penetrated her and began to thrust with increasing speed, until she pressed her hands against my chest (a sign for me to roll over) and finished things off on-top.

When we finally came, I was sitting upright, my face between her breasts. It wasn’t until we were lying together after the fact that I realized the appointment had gone over an hour -- but that will be our little secret.

She handed me a good tip, then said she wanted to ask me something.

“Go ahead,” I said.

“Why do you do this?”

One of those, I thought. “Because I like it. Follow your bliss -- isn’t that what we’re all supposed to do?”

She smiled. “You’re young enough to be my nephew, but better company than men twice your age.”

“Thank you,” I said, as I headed to the door. “But if you really want to flatter me, recommend me to your friends. I can use all the work I can get.”