Head On (The Head On Trilogy) (9 page)

Drake Parkin

I stared at Kathryn's number on my phone, and for a moment I actually considered calling her. Finally, however, I put the phone away. It wouldn't be fair to get her involved in this. In my current state, I was unpredictable and volatile. I knew myself well enough to know that I needed to be alone.

"She's working perfectly, Sir," said the valet as he hurried out of the garage. "These grand old marques, they build their cars with care. Never had a problem with one of them yet."

"Good," I say, taking the keys. "I'm not planning to be too long out there, I just..." I paused for a moment as I ran my thumb over the edge of the key. "I call you when I'm ready to put her away again."

Wandering into the garage, I came face to face with the old beast. This car and I went back a long way. My father had bought me a car when I was a teenager, of course, but this was the first vehicle I'd bought with my own money. Walking toward the driver's door, I ran my hand along the smooth hood. It was hard to believe that I'd allowed her to sit alone and unloved in the garage for so long. I'd neglected her, and she probably assumed I'd moved on to better, more expensive toys.

Not true.

I guess the men in my family had a habit of abandoning the things they truly loved, but it was a habit I intended to break.

As soon as I turned the key in the ignition, I felt the familiar rumble of the engine starting up. I'd driven other cars in her class, of course, but this one always felt a little different. I was smart enough to know that I was probably just imagining the whole thing, but I couldn't shake the feeling that this car -
my
car - was in some way different. This was a car that reacted to me, and only to me. Sitting here now, preparing to ease her out onto the road against after being mothballed for so long, I felt as if I was finally where I belonged.

"Four days," I muttered. "You think we can have a little fun in four days?"

I sat waiting, as if I expected a reply. The only reply I could hope for, however, was the grunt of her engine, so I eased my foot down against the pedal and she began to move forward smoothly, obeying my every command. As I drove her out of the garage, I kept my foot down, taking the blind corner at the end of the driveway a little too fast. With the most minute variation of the throttle, I was able to keep the car on a perfect course. Even though I hadn't driven her for so long, she still responded perfectly to my every move. I'd never found a human being who was so obedient and responsive, yet who could also retain so much character. Most people mistook submission for blankness, and calmness for placidity.

Most people were idiots.

Kathryn

Robert had booked the penthouse.
With
my face against the window in one of the biggest, most exclusive hotels in Vegas, I looked out over the city. It was almost midnight, and the place was lit up by the lights of thousands - if not millions - of neon signs and street lamps. The window was hermetically sealed, blocking out all the noise, but the city looked so alive, it was practically throbbing. Having lived in New York for years and years, I'd kind of assumed I couldn't be impressed by a place like this, but I was wrong. Vegas, with its lights and glamor, was an intense blast. As my face continued to press against the window, I couldn't help but think of the vast noise on the other side of the glass. A whole city at play.

The reason my face was against the window was that I was bent over a desk, while Robert fucked me up the ass.

I'd never been a fan of anal, having politely changed the subject whenever my ex-fiance had brought up the possibility, but five minutes ago Robert slammed a cool twenty grand down on the table as he told me what he wanted, so I figured: why not? He wasn't using a condom, of course, since part of the deal was that I'd take any necessary preventative measures. Luckily I'd just showered when he decided he wanted to do this. And now I was bored, just waiting for him to finish. As with so many jobs, being a prostitute involved a lot of clock-watching.

Robert wasn't bored though. He was grunting away as he pounded my ass. He'd smeared some kind of lubricant between my buttocks, and all over his cock, before pushing his rather large member up inside. Now I could feel the tip deep, deep inside me as he continued to thrust and thrust and thrust. Part of me didn't mind him taking his time, since I didn't really have to do anything other than stick my ass out; but part of me wanted him to get finished so we could move on to a more interesting activity. For one thing, he'd promised me a late-night dinner, and I was hungry. Make that ravenous. When I worked at Parkin's company, I had scheduled meal breaks. As a prostitute, I had to fit my schedule around my clients' whims, and Robert Foxington-Chambers never seemed to slow down.

"Oh yeah," he said, fucking me harder and harder. "Oh, fucking yeah!"

I was learning on the job, and I was learning fast. My first client, Parkin, had been a complete eye-opener, and I'd been too fazed to really learn much. My second client, Archer, had been an unusual case, since Parkin had been giving me orders via the earpiece. Robert Foxington-Chambers, on the other hand, was my first prolonged exposure to a client, and I was starting to realize that being a successful prostitute basically involved two things: doing what I was told, and being a good liar.

"That's so good," I moaned, 100% faking the sense of pleasure. "Harder, honey, Harder." I felt like I was being way too over-the-top, but Robert seemed to respond.

"I'm gonna grind you so hard," he grunted.

"Grind me," I replied, trying hard not to burst out laughing. "Grind me good."

"Fuck yeah," he said with a focused, concentrated snort.

I paused, but it was clear that I should say something, probably something dirty. "Your cock's so hard," I said eventually, in lieu of anything else. "So hard and big."

"Fuck yeah," he said, "it's big and it's hard and it's gonna fucking ram you deep!"

"That's right, honey," I said, still struggling not to laugh. This whole situation seemed absurd, but Robert was buying it hook, line and sinker. How the hell could he possibly think that I was actually enjoying myself. "Oh God," I moaned, "did you just get even bigger?"

"Oh fuck!" he shouted, and I felt him cum. He pushed his cock balls-deep and held it there while he discharged his sticky white load, and then he pulled out. "Kathryn," he said after a moment, "you're one hot babe but you're dripping all over the carpet."

Smiling, I cupped my hand under my ass and hurried to the bathroom. There was a bidet in there, so I was able to quickly give myself a wash before rearranging my dress. In the harsh electric light, I almost didn't look like myself. It was as if I'd stuck on a new dress and become someone else entirely, which was fine by me. Back when I was working in marketing, I considered a one night stand to be daring. Now I was letting a stranger ass-fuck me in a Vegas hotel room for money. I carefully arranged my breasts in my dress, to make sure my cleavage was showing. I had no idea what Robert would want to do later, but I had no doubt it was going to be kinky.

Sighing, I took a moment to stare at my reflection. I was starting to realize that Parkin had been a false dawn. He'd made me think that this kind of life would be glamorous, when in fact it was hard work. Well-paid, but definitely hard. And exhausting. In fact, 50% of the job was athletic, and the rest was about being a good liar and managing my boredom. With a quick mental calculation, I realized that Robert had another forty-one hours of my time left, and I was pretty sure there wouldn't be much sleep during that time. I was just looking forward to getting back to New York on Monday and crashing out.

"You ready?" Robert called out, sounding annoyingly chipper.

"For you?" I replied. "Any time."

Taking one final check in the mirror, I hurried out to meet him. "I'm ready," I said, taking his arm as we headed to the elevator. On the ride down, we didn't say much. I'd already accepted that there wasn't much for him to say to something like me; I wasn't with him to provide good conversation, after all, although I was pretty sure I was a cut above the average hooker. I kept trying to convince myself that I was more than just a hooker, that I was more of a companion who offered sexual services, but deep down I knew I was just a hooker, like all the other hookers in the world.

When we reached the restaurant, I was surprised to find that there were no other diners. "Looks like we're the last customers," I said by way of a joke. I figured I should throw in a little small-talk here and there, at no extra cost.

"We'd better be," Robert said as a waiter led us to a table. "I paid to get the whole place."

"You did?" I asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. To be honest, I'd pegged Robert Foxington-Chambers as the kind of guy who'd rather eat at an all-night burger bar, but this place seemed decidedly up-market. I couldn't even begin to imagine how much it must have cost him to get the place emptied out, but to be honest, it was the first mildly impressive thing he'd done since we arrived. Hell, it was
almost
classy. It was the kind of thing I could imagine Parkin doing.

Damn it!
I told myself.
You need to stop comparing every man to Drake Parkin!

Robert grinned as we reached a small table in the middle of the room. Looking around, I couldn't help but notice that the scene was almost romantic.
Almost
. Still, I was pretty sure the waiters would be able to tell that I was a hooker, or at least an escort of some kind.

"Take your dress off," Robert said suddenly.

"Sorry?" I asked as the waiter brings the wine list.

"I want you to be naked while we eat," he explained. "I want to be able to see your pretty titties. That's why I had to book the whole fucking restaurant out. They wouldn't agree unless I paid for every cock-sucking table. Can you believe that? Bastards. Anyway, come on, strip off."

I glanced at the waiter, who carefully avoided looking me in the eye. My heart was pounding and I was desperately hoping that I was misunderstanding what Robert wanted me to do.

"Are you sure?" I asked, trying not to let Robert hear the nervousness in my voice. "You want me to... strip off?"

Sighing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pile of notes, placing them on the table and sliding them over to me. "Ten grand," he said, starting to sound a little pissed off. "Now strip off, all the way."

I looked at the money. Figuring that this was probably part of the deal, I took a deep breath and then got to my feet. As the waiter walked away, I hitched my skirt up and over my head. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at things), Robert had already commanded me to not wear any underwear tonight, so within a brief moment I was completely naked. I blushed a little as the waiter came back and placed a basket of bread on the table. He was still quite obviously trying to avoid making eye contact, although I was absolutely certain I caught him having a quick glance at my crotch.

Without Robert noticing, I kept my shoes on. It wasn't much, but at least I was able to tell myself that I wasn't
quite
naked.

I sat down and took a look at the menu. The waiter was still being careful not to look directly at me, although I could see that he was struggling not to sneak a sly glance, and when I looked over toward the kitchen, I saw three or four faces quickly duck out of view. I made sure to sit up straight, so that my breasts would look as good as possible. Although it felt odd being naked in such a public way, I found that I could deal with the embarrassment by reminding myself that there'd be time to freak out later. Besides, I was determined not to let Robert realize that I was struggling. It wasn't that I cared too much about what
he
thought, but there was no way I was going to risk the chance of complaints getting back to Parkin.

"I'll have the steak," Robert said. "Salad for the woman."

"Very good, Sir," the waiter said, taking our menus.

"Gotta keep that figure in shape, right?" he said with a leering smile.

I smile politely.

"You know," he continued, "Drake Parkin recommended you very highly."

"He did?" I replied, feeling a momentary skip of hope in my chest at the mention of Parkin's name. "That's..." I paused. "That's nice of him."

"He said you're a good fuck," Robert continued. "Very pliable. Very obedient. He didn't go into too much detail, but I figure, any bitch who's good enough for Drake Parkin is good enough for me."

"I guess," I said quietly. I couldn't deny that it stung to think of Parkin discussing my sexual performance with other men. I couldn't work out whether he was deliberately trying to humiliate me, or simply failing to understand that I might actually have feelings. Still, I was getting paid extremely well, which I figured was supposed to compensate me for the fact that I was being treated like some kind of object. It was early days, and I reminded myself that it'd take a while before I grew a thick enough skin to deal with the harsher aspects of the job. Again, I reminded myself that I was luckier than most girls in my line of work: at least I wasn't out on the street corner.

Dinner was somewhat awkward, to say the least. When he wasn't ogling my breasts, Robert was complaining about his ex-wives. As it turned out, he'd been married five times, with the most recent Mrs. Foxington-Chambers having walked out during the summer. She'd had experimental fake breasts fitted, allowing her to use a special pump system to inflate or deflate them more or less at whim, depending on the social occasion. As Robert explained it, he could tell her to pump them up for a night at the casino, and then let some air out if they were going to a charity gala. As I sipped at my wine, I couldn't be sure whether he was making the whole thing up, or whether adjustable breasts were a reality in twenty-first century America. Either way, he kept making comments about my chest, with the implication being that while my breasts were "perky" and "firm", he wouldn't mind if they were a little bigger.

"Come on," he said eventually, burping as he pushed his empty plate away and finished the last of his wine. "I want to go to the casino."

I looked down at my half-finished salad and realized that it would be foolish to even
ask
if I could wait to finish first. I wasn't full, not remotely, and sex was an activity that definitely burned a whole load of calories. Still, I figured I'd just have to eat more on Monday, once I was finished with this job. For now, I was being paid to do whatever Robert Foxington-Chambers demanded, and to satisfy his every sexual whim, so I'd just have to leave the salad behind and hope I could eat something a little later.

"Sure," I said, standing up and grabbing my dress.

"You can leave that," he said with a grinning sneer.

"Leave what?" I asked, even though I had a horrible feeling that I knew exactly what he meant.

"That. The dress. You can leave it."

I stared at him. "Don't I... need it?"

He smiled. "You're going to be naked," he said. "Come on." He grabbed the dress and tossed it onto the floor, before taking me by the arm and leading me to the door.

"Naked... where?" I asked.

"In the casino," he said. "This is Vegas, baby!"

"You paid to empty the casino too?" I asked, stunned at the idea that Robert might have cleared the entire building for us tonight.

"Hell, no," he replied. "The restaurant's a bit stuck-up, but on the casino floor, anything goes."

"So there are people there?" I asked, as we reached the hallway and I realized that he expected me to walk into a crowded room with my bare naked body on display.

"Not many," he said. "Two, maybe three hundred." He grinned as we stepped into the elevator. "I want them all to see the body of the woman I'm gonna be fucking later. I want those assholes to be green with envy when they think about me getting all down and dirty with that little pussy of yours." With that, he reached down and slapped my crotch, causing me to take a step back in shock. "You
did
say anything goes," he added, with a hint of concern in his voice. "I hope you're not gonna back out of our little transaction, Kathryn. I'm paying you handsomely. You think a quick fuck's worth so much? You're mine for the weekend."