Advertising for Love (8 page)

“I’m glad I was finally able to cook a real dinner for you, instead of throwing something together for a quick lunch.” Greg’s sexy voice washed over her. Aisha contemplated telling him to skip dessert so they could get to those other benefits.

“Me too.” She finished her meal and sighed contently. “It’s nice to have a dinner date after all these weeks.”

“I know. I’m sorry about that. My evenings have been booked up solid. It’s good to have a night off.”

Aisha said nothing and drained her glass of the last drop of wine. As much as she tried to get used to it, the more she started to care for him, the more talking about Greg’s job, even in a general way, made her feel uncomfortable. She changed the subject. “This wine is delicious. What did you say it was again?”

“It’s a pinot noir.” Greg poured her another glass. “I know you prefer a pinot grigio, but to serve white wine with this dish would be a travesty.” He poured another glass for himself. “Salud.” Aisha lifted her glass, and Greg slowly touched hers with his. His brown eyes stared at her deeply, and the ping of their glasses ignited her desire. Greg read the look in her eyes. “Shall we move on to dessert?”

“Mmm. Yes, please.” She took another sip and relished in watching his bicep flex as he picked up her empty plate. His jeans highlighted everything, and she couldn’t peel her eyes off of his ass as he walked over to the sink. She wanted to squeeze it firmly as he entered her. The sudden ring of Greg’s cell phone cleared her mind of her dirty thoughts.

“Hello?” Aisha took another sip of her wine and glanced at the fancy grill out on Greg’s patio deck. Despite the fact that she was full, her mouth watered at the thought of the fantastic grilled dishes Greg could whip up once the weather really got warm. “Okay, hold on. Let me write that down.” He went over to the fridge and uncapped the pen attached to the whiteboard stuck there. “Six o-clock. Khaki and white. Where? Oh, I’ve been there before. Right. Thanks.” He hung up the phone and smiled awkwardly. “Sorry about that.”

Aisha shrugged. “No problem.”

“Now.” Greg smiled his perfect smile. “Where were we? Oh, yes. Dessert.” He went to the counter and began preparing the crème brûlées.

“So, um, you have to work tomorrow?”

Greg kept his back to her as he sprinkled them with sugar. “Yeah.” He paused. “Unfortunately.” He turned on the torch gun and ran it back and forth over the ramekins for a few seconds. He then placed the perfectly browned dishes on the table in front of her. “We should wait about five minutes before we eat them. Do you want some coffee?”

“No, the wine is fine, thanks.” Behind Greg’s shoulder, Aisha could see the specs of the next assignment glaring at her. She forced herself to turn away. Greg stared at her pointedly. “So,”—she took another sip—“where do you have to go?”

“Uh, the Yacht Club.” He picked up his spoon and tapped the top of his brûlée. “Which is actually not good because I kind of get a little sea sick, and the food on those boats is often terrible. I think this is ready. Shall we try it?”

“Yeah, okay.” Aisha broke into her dessert. It looked delicious, but she really couldn’t taste anything. Her eyes kept fixating on the fridge—6:00, khaki and white.
 

“You know what?” Greg got up from the table and went over to the whiteboard. He erased it with one swipe of his hand. “I’ll put this in my calendar.” He picked his phone off the table, typed it in and sat back down. “How’s your dessert?”

“It’s good.” Aisha forced herself to take another bite. “Almost as good as your chicken.”

“Thanks.” Greg suddenly reached across the table and took her hand. “You would tell me if something bothered you, right?”

“Yes. I would.”

He looked at her skeptically. “It’s just a job.” She could hear the attempt at reassurance in his voice. “Besides, the client tomorrow is an almost fifty-year old woman who spends too much time at the plastic surgeon’s and the tanning salon. She just wants someone on her arm so she can make all her friends jealous and maintain her status as some kind of society lady.”

Aisha’s curiosity surprised her. “Really? You’ve been out with her before?”

Greg took another bite of his brûlée. “A couple of times. She’s always dragging me to these high-society country club functions where she wears way too much makeup and clothes that are all kinds of inappropriate just so she can sit around with her rich friends and bitch about how a black president ruined the country.”

Aisha’s eyes grew wide. “And what do you do the whole time?”

He shrugged. “I sit there, listen and pretend to be a card-carrying Republican.”

“No way. Get out of here. Seriously?”

“Absolutely. What else can I do except tolerate her thinly veiled racist remarks while she tries to grab my dick under the table?”

Aisha laughed so hard tears formed in her eyes. “Greg! You can’t be serious. She does that? What do you do?”

“I take her hand and put it back in her lap. Sometimes, especially when she’s had a few too many gin and tonics, I make excuses and keep getting up to go to the bathroom. She probably thinks I have a small bladder or a condition or something.”

“Oh my God.” Aisha wiped away the tears. “So you don’t…you know…with her?”

Greg made a face. “Oh, hell no! She always offers. Throws all kinds of money in my face. But no. Absolutely not.”

“Oh wow.” She took a deep breath. “That’s hilarious. Seriously, you could write a book.”

“I’m sure I could.”

“So, I’m curious.” Aisha took another bite of her dessert. She could finally taste the crisp topping and the sweet, creamy custard underneath. “I don’t mean to be all up in your business, but you have a really nice house and a really nice car. So I take it your job—and I’m just talking about the above-board stuff—is financially rewarding?”

Greg smirked. “Are you asking me if I make a lot of money escorting?”

Aisha could feel the relaxing effects of several glasses of wine. They had begun to loosen her tongue. “Yes. That’s what I’m asking you.”

“To be frank, yes. I do quite well. Although,”—he took another sip from his glass—“I’m not one of the top earners.”
 

“Really, who is? I mean, you don’t have to tell me his name or anything, but what kind of person is he? He’s probably some tall, muscular guy in his twenties, right?”

“Actually, no. Just the opposite. He’s a little shorter than I am, average build, and in his sixties.”

“What?” Aisha leaned forward in her chair. “You’re kidding. In his sixties?”

“Yeah.” Greg chuckled. “I don’t know how much he makes, but the rumors are that it’s over six figures. Well over.” Aisha sat back, unable to say anything. Greg continued, “It makes sense. Think of it this way. There’s an entire population of retired women who need someone to keep them company as they go about their day. They’re not working, and they need someone to talk to while they visit the museums, go out to lunch, attend concerts, what have you. Combine that with the fact that there aren’t too many older men on staff at the company, and you have the makings of a very lucrative situation. I hear he’s booked up solid for months in advance.”

Aisha shook her head. “I don’t believe it.” She then lowered her voice. “Does he have sex with them?”

Greg laughed. “I don’t know. I don’t ask him. But I hear he keeps his clients very happy.”

Aisha snorted. “Now
he’s
the one who should write a book.”

“You’ve got that right.”

They were quiet for a moment. Aisha studied him carefully over the rim of her glass. She polished off the rest of her wine and set it back down on the table. Her crème brûlée was gone. And she was ready to move to the
after dessert
dessert.

Greg looked at her thoughtfully. “How was everything?”

“Delicious. Thank you.” Aisha slowly got up from her chair and walked over to him. “But now I’m ready for you to show me some of those other benefits you were talking about earlier.” She squeezed between Greg’s chair and the table, swung her leg over, and straddled him, sitting in his lap.

“Mmm.” Greg kissed her neck. Even through the denim, Aisha could feel him growing hard. “Well, we chefs know how to throw down in the bedroom as well as the kitchen.”

“Oh, really?” Aisha sighed as he slipped his hands up her shirt and unhooked her bra. Her breasts fell into his hands, and he massaged them. “Show me,” she whispered. Aisha could taste the crème brûlée and the wine on his lips, and their luscious sweetness made her want to taste more. She grabbed the bottom of his shirt and forced it up over his head. The sight of his bare chest made her grow wet, and she slowly traced her fingers over the contours of his solid six-pack.

Aisha’s touch seemed to be too much for him. He grabbed her and kissed her passionately, stopping only long enough to remove her shirt and bra and throw them to the kitchen floor. He leaned down and teased her right nipple with his tongue until it grew hard. Instinctively, Aisha ground her hips into Greg, feeling his cock straining to escape from his pants. Greg moved his warm mouth over to her left nipple, licking it until it grew hard as well. Unable to take it anymore, Aisha popped up. “Bedroom.”

They practically ran upstairs. Once there, Aisha tore off her pants and her underwear. All of it had grown uncomfortable as her pussy had gotten wetter. She lay down, and Greg, now naked, lowered his powerful body on top of hers.

He stroked her hair. “Shall we go for the trifecta this time?”

“The trifecta?” Aisha kissed his bottom lip, nibbling on it with her teeth. “What’s that?”

“Three orgasms,” he whispered, trailing his hand down the side of her body, stopping at her ass to grab it firmly and to grind his hips into hers.
 

“Mmm.” Aisha could feel his hardness teasing her pussy. “I don’t know if I can take three. Two may be my limit.”

“Oh, I do love a challenge.” Greg parted her lips with his tongue and kissed her deeply.

As he explored her body with his lips, teeth, tongue and hands, Aisha buried herself deep into the comfortable bed and enjoyed the experience. Greg began his downward journey, and she gripped the sheets in anticipation of his licking and savoring her waiting pussy. He teased her at first by parting her lips with his fingers and blowing on her gently.

“That tickles!”

“Oh, really? What about this?” Greg fluttered her clit with the tip of his tongue. Aisha moaned.

“So good.”

“And this?” He penetrated her with her tongue. She sucked the air in sharply between her clenched teeth.

“Yes.”

“And what about this?”

Greg hitched her up with his hands, moved down lower and rimmed the opening to her ass. Aisha jumped back several inches, almost banging her head against headboard. “Hey! What the hell are you doing?”

“What?” Greg blinked. “Don’t you like it?”

Aisha could still feel the imprint of his tongue where it circled that sensitive spot. “I don’t know.” She noticed that her hands were clenched. She made an effort to relax her fingers. “I’ve never had anyone do that to me before. It felt…” she searched for the right word, “…weird.”

Greg propped himself up on one elbow. “You’ve never had anal before?”

“No.” She laughed nervously. “Oh, no. I mean, men have asked…you know…if they can go there, but I’ve always said no. Nuh uh. No way.”

“Come here.” He put his hand on her thigh and guided her back down to him. “Let me just try a little something. I won’t hurt you. I promise.” Aisha raised one eyebrow. The little tongue action was enough to have her jumping out of her skin. She wasn’t sure she wanted more. “Trust me, baby. You are going to love this. Besides,”—his gaze moved downward—“your ass looks so good that I can’t be down here and not want to do things to it.”

The look on Greg’s face made Aisha swallow her fear. She slid closer to him. “Okay. I trust you.”

“Turn over.” Aisha rolled onto her stomach. Greg sat up and massaged both her cheeks with his hands. “Damn, baby.” He spanked her once, softly, before continuing to massage her. Aisha looked over her shoulder at him. Greg’s eyes were fixated on her butt, his cock hard as a rock.

Feeling brave, she said, “So are you just going to look at it, or are you actually going to do something with it?”

Her question broke his trance. “Hold on a second.” He reached over her, opened up the drawer of his nightstand and pulled out a bottle of lube. Aisha eyed it warily. “Don’t worry.” His words were reassuring. “This will make all the difference.”

Aisha faced forward, and she could hear him opening the bottle. She took a deep breath, steadying herself for what might come next. The sheets rustled as Greg moved, and she could feel his breath against her skin as he leaned in closer to her. His tongue teasing her opening again made her jump, but this time, he caught her and held her in place. “Oh no. You’re not going anywhere.” His words caressed her body, and she tried to relax. He licked her again, and this time, Aisha gave in to the feeling. Tingles danced up and down her spine as Greg’s tongue undulated, causing her to groan. The faster Greg’s tongue moved, the more her muscles melted, allowing the sensation to flow throughout her entire body. He then pulled back and replaced his tongue with the tip of his finger.

“Take a deep breath, and when I count to three, I want you to exhale. All of it. Blow it all out. Okay?”