Thursday 21 August 2014

Thursday Taster: Gentleman #8

Another taste from Blue Moon House. Check out all the tastes on the blog.

“We haven't met,” she said, circling him. “I'd been informed that you were in need of my services.”
Harrold's brow furrowed. What woman provided a service he needed? What service...?
A light shone behind his eyes just as she said, “Delores was quite insistent. More than is proper. I had to set her down for that.” Lynn, for that must be who this woman was, regarded her painted nails. “She enjoyed that, I think. Would you?” She glanced at Harrold from the corner of those oddly sparkling eyes.
“Would I what?” He was completely flustered. How had a whore gotten into this party?
Her palm slapped across his face. It was a sensation he was familiar with. Many ladies had spurned his advances when he was younger. However, this woman had a stronger arm than any of them. This pain rivaled that of the time his cousin had punched him in the jaw for dandling his lady.
“You will pay heed when I speak. Would you enjoy being reprimanded by me?”
The suggestion alone made him burn. She was the ideal woman, strong, in complete command, not only of him, but every man at the party. Her force of presence bested that of most of the men he had met. He would love to obey her commands, especially if, as he suspected, they were anything like Delores'.
Her arm moved fast, spinning around to come up between his legs. He gasped in surprised and then winced as she squeezed him in her hand. The pain made his eyes water.
“You will not hesitate to answer, either.”
“Y-yes, madam,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Better.” She eased her grip, fondling him, massaging one nut and then the other before running a finger up his length.
“Despite putting me at such inconvenience, I believe Delores is right.” She pulled her hand back with a sigh. “Before we go any further, however, I need you to agree to the following terms.” She pulled up the drawstring at her belt to access her small purse. Unfolding a square of paper, she revealed a simple contract.
The below signed agrees to keep the confidentiality of Blue Moon House and share with no one the activities therein.
“Isn't it obvious to everyone what happens in a whorehouse?”
Her heel came down on his instep and he dropped the contract, hopping on the uninjured foot. “We are not mere whores and do not expect regular payment. Sign, or we are finished here.” She took a step toward the door.
Returning, she slipped two fingers between the buttons of his fly, holding his erection and stroking it through his pants with her thumb. “Do you trust me, Mister Long?”
His breath hitched and he leaned closer, his forehead touching hers. “Yes.”
She smiled and tilted her head to kiss him, her lips not quite connecting. “You won't be disappointed,” she promised, releasing him to bend down and retrieve the contract. She made her way to a writing desk. “Sign and date, please.”
“What is it you need to keep secret?”
“Come to 36 Baker tomorrow night and find out,” she whispered, breathing in his ear.
He wanted to go there now, wanted to take her on this desk. He grabbed her and spun, lifting her hips onto the desk edge and pinning them there with his own.
“You are not in charge,” she reminded him. “I'll permit this to reward your obedience. Now fuck me, Harrold, and don't come until I have.”

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