Desire (3 page)

“That’s what they all say,” she said. “You’d be surprised; a lot of women want the guys to stay on even longer.”

Friday rolled around really quickly, and I took the afternoon off for some serious pampering. Although I wasn’t hiring Olivier for sex, I had a Brazilian bikini wax and donned new matching underwear—a wine red bra and panties set—so that I felt sensual and romantic, feminine and confident. I had my hair teased into soft waves that framed my face and caressed my shoulders, and my face done by a professional makeup artist. I had to admit when I checked myself out in the mirror that I looked good: glossy and groomed, and rich and successful, every inch the corporate career girl. The final touch was to slither into my dress, a clingy, green silk number with a plunging neckline and a fishtail skirt that made me feel like a mermaid and encouraged me to walk with a sexy wiggle. Just as I was hooking a pair of diamond chandeliers in my ears, the doorbell rang. It was Olivier, right on time.

I buzzed him. “Come on up,” I said into the intercom. “I’ll be one minute.”

I heard him tell the cabdriver to keep the meter running and then the sound of the elevator door slamming shut. I stepped into my heels and was struggling with the clasp on my diamond choker when Olivier rang the bell. Here we go, I thought, taking a deep breath and unlocking the door.

The 3-D reality of Olivier took my breath away. If he’d looked good on a computer screen, in the flesh he was the sexiest man I’d ever seen. The photo hadn’t captured that X factor that makes a handsome man sexy. The computer couldn’t quite convey the smooth curve of his upper lip or his strong nose, or the smile he flashed showing white, even teeth and a glimpse of pink tongue. I stood there open-mouthed for a second, more guppy fish than mermaid, my eyes traveling all over his lean body. I found a moment to notice that his suit was YSL and registered my silent approval.

“Pleased to meet you, Hannah,” he said, extending a hand. “I’m Olivier.”

I went to shake his hand and dropped my necklace, which clattered to the floor. I was as giddy as a school-girl on her first date. Olivier’s smooth, sophisticated sex appeal had unnerved me.

“Allow me,” he said, dropping to the floor to retrieve my necklace. As he bent down, I noticed that his thighs were long, lean, and supple. I pictured his sinews rippling under the black of his suit. When he came up to fasten my diamond choker, his fingers on my flesh made me tingle, and I felt his warm breath caressing the skin behind my ear. Being this close to a good-looking man, I realized just how long it had been since anyone had touched me. My sexual feelings, dormant until now, began to stir. Oh, no, I thought. Not tonight. Tonight I need to be aloof, professional, dazzling. I don’t want to be distracted by sex!

Olivier held the door for me as I collected my faux fur cape and clutch bag, and then we made our way down to the taxi. He was easy to talk to, with a dry sense of humor I liked immediately.

“So if anyone asks—which they will—where did we meet?” he asked me.

“I hadn’t thought about that,” I replied.

“Well, I usually find that saying we met at a friend of a friend’s dinner party tends to work,” he twinkled. “Hearing about other people’s dinner parties is so boring, you don’t generally get any more personal questions after that.”

I had been worried that I’d hear the minutes ticking by and fret about what this was costing me, but Olivier was excellent value for money. In fact I didn’t notice the hours passing at all. At the dinner table, he was excellent company, more than a match for the high-powered bankers I’d asked him to mix with, giving away little about himself but asking questions that made people feel important, flirting slightly with the other women but always keeping a hand on my arm to show he was with me. At the beginning of the evening, I found this hand a warm reassurance; by the time dinner was over, Olivier’s touch was beginning to arouse me.

Two female colleagues approached me in the bathroom while I was reapplying my makeup.

“He’s gorgeous,” breathed one. “If you ever get bored, I’ll take him!”

I didn’t tell her that he was only a click away, but he’d had the desired effect: the men were impressed, and the women were jealous. I could have left then, and I would still have made my point. But I didn’t want to. I wanted him to stick around a little while longer.

Liveried servants cleared the banquet tables and pushed them against the wall, turning the long hall into a dance floor. A band struck up a slow, sexy tune.

“Now,” said Olivier, taking me by the hand. “Now we make them really jealous.”

And he held me tight and swayed me in perfect time to the music. He took the lead, and I let my body follow his rhythm. I felt my shoulders and neck relax for the first time in months as his strong lean arms encircled my waist and pressed my body against his. Aroused by this closeness, I felt my expensive panties begin to get damp. As the warmth of his chest against my breasts made my nipples go hard, I wondered if he’d noticed my sexual-response system crunching into gear. But he didn’t keep me in the dark for long, because he proceeded to place a hand on my ass, a move that made my pussy pulse urgently. With my head on his chest, I couldn’t see his expression, but his hand trailed gently over my arms, shoulders, and back with a touch as tender as that of any real lover. He began to fondle my favorite erogenous zone, the back of my neck, the one spot that’s always been guaranteed to get me horny. I don’t know why, but the skin around my hairline and behind my ears is like a shortcut to my clitoris. As Olivier’s smooth fingers played with my earrings and caressed me there, I couldn’t help but let out a low moan of pleasure.

Olivier heard that all right and drew away from me. Before he spoke, he glanced down at my eager, swelling nipples, and I blushed. “Hannah, I must say,” he began.

Embarrassed, I tried to cover up my desire, although my glittering eyes and parted lips must have betrayed it. “Oh, that was nothing,” I said. “I was just, um, I was . . .”

Olivier interrupted me by pressing a finger to my lips, a teasing gesture that foreshadowed his kiss. I wanted to take that finger between my lips and gently bite and suck it. I tried to calm myself down with some deep breaths.

“What I wanted to tell you,” he said, and as he whispered in my ear, his lips caressed that area of my body behind my neck that makes me go weak at the knees, “is that if you want to take this further, that’s fine. It’s usual for me to offer ‘extras’ to a client. We charge the agency for the time we spend until now, and then you pay me in cash for any personal time we spend together. And with you, Hannah, I’d be only too happy. Would you like me to take you home?”

My mind was saying, Hannah, there’s a line between hiring an escort to a function and paying a man for sex. It makes him a prostitute, and it makes you . . . What does it make you?

Another little voice in my head said, Oh, but how thrilling would that be, having a man whose only interest is your pleasure! And it’s so straightforward: no bullshit, just there to do your sexual bidding.

But my body made the choice for me, drowning out both of these voices with a rush of blood to my head, my pussy, and my tits. I nodded meekly, and with that he took his finger away from my mouth, ran it slowly over my lower lip, and then pressed his lips to mine, gently at first, so that the kiss radiated heat and pleasure from my mouth right through the rest of my body. His hard tongue softly parted my lips and swirled around in my mouth, slowly and politely at first but then probing my own tongue and teeth with what seemed like a very real and increasingly urgent desire. So, I smiled to myself, as I pushed my own tongue against his and tasted the inside of his mouth, this goes to disprove the old saying that whores don’t kiss.

“Shall we go?” he inquired. I looked at the clock. It was a quarter to midnight. The function would be ending in fifteen minutes, but there was no longer any need to hang around here. As Olivier and I disappeared into the night, I knew that my colleagues would all be talking about Hannah and her amazing new man. But although I’d hired Olivier to impress them, I no longer cared what they thought; right now, all I could think about was the effect he was having on me. As Olivier hailed a taxi in the street I noticed again his long, lean legs, shown off to perfection by that sharply tailored suit. In the backseat of the cab, he kissed me again. Tenderly. Sensitively. And worth every fucking penny.

Oliver paid for the taxi, an expense that I supposed would appear on my bill. As we rode the elevator up to my apartment, he began to take off my dress, sliding the straps over my shoulders and forcing my breasts out of the bra I wore. He held a nipple in each hand, pulling my breasts out so that they hung over the top of my dress. As I fumbled for the key in the lock, he stood behind me, a breast in each hand, supporting their weight and then dropping them, fingers lightly pinching each nipple, his face buried in my neck. I felt my legs begin to shake. My panties were now saturated with sweet warm juices, a trickle of which escaped and began to roll down the inside of my thigh. I could smell how aroused I was, and I was sure Olivier could, too.

We stepped over the threshold of my apartment and pushed the door closed behind us. He unzipped my dress, removed my bra, slowly rolled my panties down my legs and removed them. He held them to his nose and breathed in deeply before discarding them with a flick of his wrist. Then he kneeled before me like a slave to undo each shoe in turn, an intimate act I found immensely arousing. Now I was naked apart from my jewelry, which I kept on as a reminder that I was the one paying, a symbol of my status, power, and control. But the fact was I didn’t feel in control at all. I was at the mercy of this sexy, sophisticated man who knew exactly where a woman needed to be touched.

I watched Olivier disrobe. Confidently, slowly, he peeled off layers of expensive clothing to reveal a toned olive body: my fantasy man from the computer screen made flesh before my eyes. He picked me up in his arms, and I felt a sizzle of desire as our bare skin touched for the first time. Burying his face in my chest and taking a hardening nipple between his lips, he carried me into my bedroom and sat me on the edge of my bed. With one hand inside each thigh, he pushed my legs apart as far as they would go. Then he pushed them a little bit farther, so that I felt a buildup of tension as my muscles stretched out. I could feel his breath on my waiting pussy for a few seconds before he planted a light, butterfly kiss directly on my clitoris. He hooked my knees over his shoulders, so that my legs remained splayed, and used his fingers to part the skin around my clitoris, leaving it exposed, vulnerable, and deliciously sensitive. Next, Olivier went to work with his tongue, tracing tiny shapes on the skin around my clit, teasingly avoiding direct contact with the bud itself. Round, up, down, round, up, down, teasing me and keeping it steady until I cried out. I felt my orgasm build slowly, steadily, an arousal completely different from any I’d felt before.

He carried on working my body like the professional he was. Olivier knew just the right moment to slide a thumb into my pussy and begin exploring me inside, without his tongue ever leaving my clitoris. He slid another finger up and then another. The circling of his tongue on my clit turned to sucking, and his teeth nipped me right on my clitoris. I squealed and began to buck and writhe. Then I was coming, a harder, stronger, longer-lasting orgasm than ever before, with overpowering contractions radiating through my entire body. Olivier pulled his fingers away and hardened his tongue and thrust it into my quivering pussy so that it had something to wrap around as the waves of pleasure died down.

As Olivier stood up, I lay down on my front, wincing as my sensitive pudenda brushed against the bedclothes. I was eye level with his hard, upright dick.

“You don’t need to,” he said as I extended my tongue and slowly licked the underside of his cock, but his voice was wavering. “Tonight is about me giving pleasure to you.”

“I need to taste you,” I said, and I meant it; I was possessed by the need to wrap my lips around him. Enthralled, I studied his rod from his black bush to the glossy pink tip. I put my lips together to kiss the tip of it, teasing him, swirling lips and tongue around, daring him to penetrate my mouth. I could feel how excited he was. A drip of clear pre-cum fluid leaked from the tip of his penis, and I relished its sharp saltiness. The self-control that Olivier had exhibited all night suddenly evaporated; he began fucking my face. I let him shove his big dick right into my throat, watching his face relax as he abandoned himself to pleasure, pleasure that I was giving him. I could have sucked that dick all night. The more I sucked, the hotter and wetter my pussy got. I was astonished; after an orgasm as intense as the one I’d just experienced, I thought I’d used up my quota of sexual pleasure for at least a month. But as the tip of Olivier’s dick banged against the roof of my mouth, I realized that I was ready for round two. Olivier pulled out his dick from between my lips. I knew he would have come in my mouth if he hadn’t. He pushed my body back on the bed, and, with his hands on my breasts, he kissed me on the neck again, making my body spasm as a droplet of liquid leaked out from between my legs. As he balanced on his forearms and leaned over me, the reflections of my jewelry cast tiny brilliant lights on his skin.

He paused for a second to retrieve a condom he’d placed on the chair beside the bed, and I watched him unroll it onto his dick, which was bouncing and twitching and growing even bigger by the minute. Then he was inside me, his huge cock filling me up and about to split me in two. He was kissing me, his tongue thrusting in and out of my mouth in time with the vigorous thrusting of his penis. If Olivier was just going through the motions of passion, he was a brilliant actor; I had never felt more desired. With a strong hand, he pulled up my thigh so that it was level with his side. This change in position meant that his dick was rubbing furiously against my clitoris. This is it, I thought as I began to rush and my vision began to blur. It’s going to happen, it’s going to happen soon.