Smut 60: Cunning
Title: Not So Smart
Prompt: #48 Cunning
Character: Alex Eames (+others)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Prostitution, mention of BDSM, nothing too strong
Summary: Alex has a very frustrating day at work, which kinda sucks for a hooker, and reacts in a way she doesn't expect.
For the next month or so, Alex enjoyed her life. She slowly adjusted her regular schedule so she had two days off to spend with James and one with her family. One day was assigned to personal maintenance which left only three for work. It meant she worked harder on her work days, but it was worth it to know she had her time with James. She didn't always get both days at the garage, but if she couldn't she spent the evening with him.
The longer days also meant she had to be more careful balancing what kinds of clients she booked together. Most of her clients wanted simple contact, but she did have her specialists. More than one of those in a day was rough. She was good, but playing the little girl in the morning and a strict dominatrix after dinner was a stretch. Only a few of her clients really took it out of her. Those days she tried to end on a high note with clients who just wanted to play. One woman had a tickle fetish. She was a terrific balance to the man who asked to be beaten in total silence. The couple who were learning how to use new sex toys and positions with her help washed away the lingering images from her client who wanted to be fisted and humiliated.
She got up on a Wednesday morning and went down to pack her bag for the day. Her first client wrote off the time spent as technological strategic planning. At first that amused Alex, but over time she came to dread the woman. On paper the chronic workaholic executive wanted a chance to let go for a while. She wanted someone else to be in charge for just a little while so she could reset. Alex had a couple clients like that and she understood the urge. Being dominant was easy enough for her; it was an extension of her basic philosophy of life, but with this woman it took more work.
Her second client was one of her romps, a guy who liked to be romanced. She ordered room service, wore a fancy dress and put energy into seducing him. His lover was a big, burly man who liked it rough and although they were madly in love, sometimes he wanted something soft. Her last client was Brian who, bless him, could wash away anything. After Brian and a good night's sleep she'd be ready to see James the next day.
With everything packed, she dressed in an outfit she wouldn't even wear to the garage. Faded jeans with ragged cuffs and a split in one knee matched well with the paint splattered Keds and torn Britany Fox t-shirt. She braided her hair in two thick plaits that hung down her back. At first glance she could still pass for her early twenties, if not younger. On the cab ride to the woman's brownstone, she channeled all the girls she grew up with who never got out of the neighborhood. Words she never used anywhere else would come out during this session, not to mention the sheer number of dropped word endings.
Emily greeted her at the door wearing a silk blouse and a grey pencil skirt. It was quite possibly the worst outfit the woman could wear. Already slim almost to the point of boniness, the clothes made her look skeletal. She would look better once she was out of them. Maybe it was just that Emily wasn't to Alex's personal tastes, but she could never get past thinking the woman's angular features a little frightening. She couldn't imagine being one of her regular employees. The woman had to be a complete harridan on the job.
As it was, Alex's first reaction to the outfit wasn't the aesthetic one. It was one of annoyance. Emily had been instructed by e-mail the night before to wear a soft dress or nightgown. Those instructions were followed perhaps three quarters of the time. In a personal relationship, Alex would have bailed ages ago. She knew what Emily would say. "But I wanted to look pretty for you and this is so much prettier." Never mind that it wasn't and that it wasn't Emily's opinion that was supposed to matter at that moment. Alex closed her eyes for a moment and pointed into the house. The morning would start with a severe beating followed with a game of dress up she wasn't in the mood for.
Almost two hours later when Emily was kneeling between Alex's legs, licking her pussy with a fair amount of skill, Alex realized she just might have to fake it. Not a common occurrence, it had never happened with Emily. The woman almost always gave in at the end and did as requested. Even if the whole scene had been a fight, Emily gave in for the purely sexual escapade at the end. Alex had suggested a different order to things, but Emily's fantasy was clearly to be beaten down first.
Exhausted by the fight over every little detail, Alex was too worn out to enjoy the woman's tongue or fingers at all. Starting with the clothes, Emily moved on to which toys she wanted. Or didn't want. Never flat out saying no, she kept looking over at the paddle she liked better even when told to keep her eyes straight. That was nothing compared to the general slowness to carry out a command she didn't want to follow. She jumped to plenty fast enough for the ones she wanted.
Alex groaned thickly, which Emily interpreted as pleasure. Pressing harder in the mistaken assumption that Alex was close to climax, Emily grunted and slammed her fingers into Alex's cunt. To protect herself, Alex tightened around the fingers. A moment later she gave up and lifted her hips off the chair and moaned prettily. Only someone who knew her remarkably well would know she hadn't just had a perfectly acceptable orgasm.
She pushed Emily away and stared down at her. Immensely grateful that the woman preferred the humiliation to continue right up until the end of the scene, Alex sneered a little and muttered curt thanks. Emily beamed and fussed at the hem of her lacy nightgown. Alex stood, gathered her clothes and the toys that required cleaning and went into the bathroom. She would come out showered and dressed in more reasonable travel clothes and the scene would be over. She couldn't wait.
Before her second client she had the time to wander one of her favorite bookstores, which always helped clear her mind, but she'd walked through the mystery section for twenty minutes before she realized she hadn't looked at a single title. She gave up and headed to the hotel room. In an attempt to clear her mind she allowed herself a glass of wine before her even changing clothes to be ready for her client.
It didn't help. She was certain he didn't notice anything and at least she didn't have to fake an orgasm. He was a sweetheart who responded beautifully to everything she did, but everything she did was mechanical and cliché. She hated herself by the end, feeling less like she'd played out a fantasy and more like she'd lied for two hours straight. When he left she drank down the last of the champagne in a gulp and flopped on the bed to check her messages.
She had no idea why, but when she heard Brian's message that he had to cancel for the night, she burst into tears. Her last chance at salvaging the day had just abandoned her. She wasn't angry at Brian; he had to travel at the last minute. Being asked to look after his damn cat was a bit much, though. She wiped her face and headed into the shower. She'd get cleaned up, check out of the hotel and go check on the cat.
She cried through the whole shower. Too rung out to fight it, she leaned against the shower wall and let it come until she had nothing left. In the cab on the way to Brian's she kept her eyes closed and her hands tightly clasped around her bag. There was a gift in it for Brian, a crystal paperweight for his collection. She'd leave it on his desk.
The cat was fine and couldn't be bothered to say anything to her but a plaintive demand for more food. Alex wandered the huge apartment aimlessly while the cat ate, then stared at him for a long time. The cat, as they do, tolerated it under the mistaken notion that it was part of his deserved worship. Finally Alex stood up, grabbed her smaller purse out of her kit and left the apartment. She'd get the bag on Friday.
She didn't hear herself give the wrong address and didn't notice they were going the wrong way all together until they drove over a bridge. It took her a full ten blocks to figure out where the hell she was going. It took another twenty for her to decide if she should turn the cab around or not. She didn't even know if he was home or not.
Using the security code to get into his building seemed an invasion, but she wasn't ready to know he wasn't there. She got to his door and knocked gently, only looking at her watch at the last minute. Eight PM. Maybe he'd answer. If he didn't, she had no idea what she'd do. Realizing how softly she'd knocked, she raised her hand to knock again when a horrible idea occurred to her. Swallowing very hard, she knocked more firmly and closed her eyes to wait.
It was sobering to know that the day could, in fact, get worse.
Table
1642
Prompt: #48 Cunning
Character: Alex Eames (+others)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Prostitution, mention of BDSM, nothing too strong
Summary: Alex has a very frustrating day at work, which kinda sucks for a hooker, and reacts in a way she doesn't expect.
For the next month or so, Alex enjoyed her life. She slowly adjusted her regular schedule so she had two days off to spend with James and one with her family. One day was assigned to personal maintenance which left only three for work. It meant she worked harder on her work days, but it was worth it to know she had her time with James. She didn't always get both days at the garage, but if she couldn't she spent the evening with him.
The longer days also meant she had to be more careful balancing what kinds of clients she booked together. Most of her clients wanted simple contact, but she did have her specialists. More than one of those in a day was rough. She was good, but playing the little girl in the morning and a strict dominatrix after dinner was a stretch. Only a few of her clients really took it out of her. Those days she tried to end on a high note with clients who just wanted to play. One woman had a tickle fetish. She was a terrific balance to the man who asked to be beaten in total silence. The couple who were learning how to use new sex toys and positions with her help washed away the lingering images from her client who wanted to be fisted and humiliated.
She got up on a Wednesday morning and went down to pack her bag for the day. Her first client wrote off the time spent as technological strategic planning. At first that amused Alex, but over time she came to dread the woman. On paper the chronic workaholic executive wanted a chance to let go for a while. She wanted someone else to be in charge for just a little while so she could reset. Alex had a couple clients like that and she understood the urge. Being dominant was easy enough for her; it was an extension of her basic philosophy of life, but with this woman it took more work.
Her second client was one of her romps, a guy who liked to be romanced. She ordered room service, wore a fancy dress and put energy into seducing him. His lover was a big, burly man who liked it rough and although they were madly in love, sometimes he wanted something soft. Her last client was Brian who, bless him, could wash away anything. After Brian and a good night's sleep she'd be ready to see James the next day.
With everything packed, she dressed in an outfit she wouldn't even wear to the garage. Faded jeans with ragged cuffs and a split in one knee matched well with the paint splattered Keds and torn Britany Fox t-shirt. She braided her hair in two thick plaits that hung down her back. At first glance she could still pass for her early twenties, if not younger. On the cab ride to the woman's brownstone, she channeled all the girls she grew up with who never got out of the neighborhood. Words she never used anywhere else would come out during this session, not to mention the sheer number of dropped word endings.
Emily greeted her at the door wearing a silk blouse and a grey pencil skirt. It was quite possibly the worst outfit the woman could wear. Already slim almost to the point of boniness, the clothes made her look skeletal. She would look better once she was out of them. Maybe it was just that Emily wasn't to Alex's personal tastes, but she could never get past thinking the woman's angular features a little frightening. She couldn't imagine being one of her regular employees. The woman had to be a complete harridan on the job.
As it was, Alex's first reaction to the outfit wasn't the aesthetic one. It was one of annoyance. Emily had been instructed by e-mail the night before to wear a soft dress or nightgown. Those instructions were followed perhaps three quarters of the time. In a personal relationship, Alex would have bailed ages ago. She knew what Emily would say. "But I wanted to look pretty for you and this is so much prettier." Never mind that it wasn't and that it wasn't Emily's opinion that was supposed to matter at that moment. Alex closed her eyes for a moment and pointed into the house. The morning would start with a severe beating followed with a game of dress up she wasn't in the mood for.
Almost two hours later when Emily was kneeling between Alex's legs, licking her pussy with a fair amount of skill, Alex realized she just might have to fake it. Not a common occurrence, it had never happened with Emily. The woman almost always gave in at the end and did as requested. Even if the whole scene had been a fight, Emily gave in for the purely sexual escapade at the end. Alex had suggested a different order to things, but Emily's fantasy was clearly to be beaten down first.
Exhausted by the fight over every little detail, Alex was too worn out to enjoy the woman's tongue or fingers at all. Starting with the clothes, Emily moved on to which toys she wanted. Or didn't want. Never flat out saying no, she kept looking over at the paddle she liked better even when told to keep her eyes straight. That was nothing compared to the general slowness to carry out a command she didn't want to follow. She jumped to plenty fast enough for the ones she wanted.
Alex groaned thickly, which Emily interpreted as pleasure. Pressing harder in the mistaken assumption that Alex was close to climax, Emily grunted and slammed her fingers into Alex's cunt. To protect herself, Alex tightened around the fingers. A moment later she gave up and lifted her hips off the chair and moaned prettily. Only someone who knew her remarkably well would know she hadn't just had a perfectly acceptable orgasm.
She pushed Emily away and stared down at her. Immensely grateful that the woman preferred the humiliation to continue right up until the end of the scene, Alex sneered a little and muttered curt thanks. Emily beamed and fussed at the hem of her lacy nightgown. Alex stood, gathered her clothes and the toys that required cleaning and went into the bathroom. She would come out showered and dressed in more reasonable travel clothes and the scene would be over. She couldn't wait.
Before her second client she had the time to wander one of her favorite bookstores, which always helped clear her mind, but she'd walked through the mystery section for twenty minutes before she realized she hadn't looked at a single title. She gave up and headed to the hotel room. In an attempt to clear her mind she allowed herself a glass of wine before her even changing clothes to be ready for her client.
It didn't help. She was certain he didn't notice anything and at least she didn't have to fake an orgasm. He was a sweetheart who responded beautifully to everything she did, but everything she did was mechanical and cliché. She hated herself by the end, feeling less like she'd played out a fantasy and more like she'd lied for two hours straight. When he left she drank down the last of the champagne in a gulp and flopped on the bed to check her messages.
She had no idea why, but when she heard Brian's message that he had to cancel for the night, she burst into tears. Her last chance at salvaging the day had just abandoned her. She wasn't angry at Brian; he had to travel at the last minute. Being asked to look after his damn cat was a bit much, though. She wiped her face and headed into the shower. She'd get cleaned up, check out of the hotel and go check on the cat.
She cried through the whole shower. Too rung out to fight it, she leaned against the shower wall and let it come until she had nothing left. In the cab on the way to Brian's she kept her eyes closed and her hands tightly clasped around her bag. There was a gift in it for Brian, a crystal paperweight for his collection. She'd leave it on his desk.
The cat was fine and couldn't be bothered to say anything to her but a plaintive demand for more food. Alex wandered the huge apartment aimlessly while the cat ate, then stared at him for a long time. The cat, as they do, tolerated it under the mistaken notion that it was part of his deserved worship. Finally Alex stood up, grabbed her smaller purse out of her kit and left the apartment. She'd get the bag on Friday.
She didn't hear herself give the wrong address and didn't notice they were going the wrong way all together until they drove over a bridge. It took her a full ten blocks to figure out where the hell she was going. It took another twenty for her to decide if she should turn the cab around or not. She didn't even know if he was home or not.
Using the security code to get into his building seemed an invasion, but she wasn't ready to know he wasn't there. She got to his door and knocked gently, only looking at her watch at the last minute. Eight PM. Maybe he'd answer. If he didn't, she had no idea what she'd do. Realizing how softly she'd knocked, she raised her hand to knock again when a horrible idea occurred to her. Swallowing very hard, she knocked more firmly and closed her eyes to wait.
It was sobering to know that the day could, in fact, get worse.
Table
1642