Perfect Ten (2 page)

I
didn’t have
sex for months after the whole Sophia debacle. I had no interest in reliving that experience. That’s not to say I didn’t want to fuck some of my dates. I was just cautious for a while.

Another of my more memorable dates was with a woman who had to be, hands down, the most ruthless creature ever to exist. She showed me how a woman scorned could behave.

I was twenty-two years old and was escorting Samantha, a woman twenty years my senior, to a funeral. Yup, you heard me—a funeral. Pretty fucked up, right? But, hey, I was working my way up the ladder, so I had to take the less desirable dates. I needed to prove that I could please all the ladies. She paid the agency two-thousand dollars for six hours of my time. Six hours!

I picked her up at her Beverly Hills mansion just before ten in the morning. I still lived in the Hills too, but in the not so nice section of 90210. Yes, there
is
a not so nice section of Beverly Hills. Didn’t know that, did you? It’s not common knowledge outside of California.

When I picked her up in the company’s sleek, black Aston Martin Vanquish Volante—I could have come just from sitting my ass in the driver’s seat—she looked suitably mournful in her black skirt suit. Her light blonde hair was pulled back into some kind of fancy braid, and her makeup was lightly applied. Her eyes widened when she saw me for the first time, and a hint of a smile touched her lips. She hadn’t seen me in person before and was noticeably pleased. Some of the clients simply get portfolios on us if they don’t have the time or don’t feel like taking the time to come scope us out in person. Such is the life of the rich.

“Good Lord, aren’t you delicious?”

I smiled good-naturedly. After all, I was used to being told how “delicious” I was. I’m really not full of myself—not too much. I just know what I look like. I wouldn’t have this job if I weren’t nice to look at.

She continued to look me up and down while she walked around me in a circle, touching as she went. “What are you, six-two, six-three?” I was six-four but close enough.

Not waiting for an answer, she continued her quest by grabbing my chin, tilting it this way and that. I have to admit, I was losing my patience at that point. What was I, a horse? Was she going to check my teeth next? I stared down at her with what I thought was a menacing glare, but she continued to examine me anyway.

“Gorgeous green eyes. They’re almost
too
bright. Nice strong jaw. Love the longer locks on you too, cutie. Maybe it’s that dark hair that makes your eyes shine so brightly.”

I pulled out of her grasp with a jerk of my head, but remembered to remain polite. “Thank you, I’m glad…”

“Shhh.” She put her finger on my lips. “I’m not done yet.” She ran her hands up my chest, over my shoulders, and down my arms, squeezing as she went. She shivered, which frankly creeped me out a little. “Ah yes. Very nice. I see I’ll be getting my money’s worth.”

Oh, hell no. I’d be having none of that. “Ma’am”—I added that to draw attention to our age difference—not that she cared—“I don’t know exactly what you’re thinking, but I’m not here to have sex. I was told I was escorting you to a funeral.”

“Well, yes, but then we’ll come back here, no?”

“We can do just about anything you like for the six hours, but as the contract states, physical relations are not part of my service.” She stuck out her lip, which made me flash back to Sophia, except that I did
not
feel like sucking on this woman’s lip. At all. There was something about her that wasn’t quite right. Oh, she was attractive enough, her age didn’t matter to me, but something was off.

“Whatever you say, cupcake. Let’s go.” On the way to the door, she leisurely rubbed her ass up against me, and to my frustration, the big guy took notice. She must have felt me twitch, because she stopped and rubbed against me again, which made the big guy twitch again. I am obviously not the master of my dick. She looked at me over her shoulder with a knowing smile. Sliding her hand behind her, she gently caressed me through my pants. “Oh, we’ll be getting naked later.”

Well, damn. Maybe I was a man-whore, because I couldn’t wait to get back.

* * *

B
eing
at the funeral cured me
and
my big guy—at least for a little while. This woman was disgusting and, as I mentioned before, ruthless. We were at the funeral of her ex-husband. You believe that shit? At first, I thought she was there to support her children, who were already standing beside the casket, but I was wrong. The reason she paid for such a young escort was that she wanted to show me off to her ex-husband’s wife. To make it worse, she walked up to the widow with a huge smile on her face, not even acknowledging her children.

Running her hand down my back to settle on my ass, she introduced me. “Whitney, this is Joe. Joe, this is the whore who stole my husband.” She pointed to the two kids standing next to her. They were both older teenagers by my guess. “And those are my kids.”

My heart lurched at her callous words. I was completely speechless. How could anyone be so disrespectful—and in front of their own children? Hell, I myself was a smart-ass, but not in a million years would I ever disrespect someone at a funeral. So I did what anyone should do at a funeral. I reached out and grasped Whitney’s hand.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Turning to the kids, I said the same thing.

To her credit, Whitney didn’t respond to Samantha’s insult. Not directly at least. “Thank you.” She pulled me in for a quick hug and whispered, “Watch your back with that one.”

The kids both mumbled responses, and we moved down the line, taking seats in the back row of the church.

I had nothing to say to Samantha the Bitch, so I sat silently in the pew. Before too long, I felt her hand on my thigh. I decided to leave it there instead of causing a scene. During one of the readings, she slipped her hand under my suit jacket and inched her way down to my dick. That little fucker started stirring again!

“Samantha,” I hissed at her. “Stop touching me.” I tried to whisper as quietly as possible, but the older gentleman next to me heard and gave me a disgusted look. Samantha brazenly stroked me some more instead of removing her hand. I am embarrassed to say that I didn’t tell her to stop again. I’d like to tell you it was because I didn’t want to interrupt the service, but to be perfectly honest, she was pretty skilled at stroking me without it being obvious. When I shuddered as she gently pinched the head of my dick, she let out a satisfied breath.

After the funeral was over, I drove Samantha back to her house. I was determined not to get out of the car. Finally, I succeeded in something I set my mind to. Oh—that doesn’t mean I didn’t fuck her. I just didn’t leave the car. I did put the top down for more head room, though. Yeah, I know… I know.

A
s the years
went by
, I had more and more sex. I never initiated it, though. Never. See what a great guy I am? I wasn’t pushy. Fine, you got me. The only reason I never initiated sex was that I never had to. There were only a handful of women in six years that didn’t want to have sex with me.

“Hey, Joe.”

I was in the Perfect Ten office getting my work schedule for the week. The perfect shine on Stan’s prized dark mahogany desk begged for fingerprints to be smeared all over it. No one would dare do it, though. Stan was a bit of a neat freak with a volatile temper. “Hey, Stan, how’s it going?”

Stan stood there with his Mr. Clean bald head shining as bright as his polished desk. Women loved him. He was one of those guys who could pull off the bald look. It might have had something to do with the thick, corded muscles he constantly showed off by wearing lots of tight shirts. “I have a couple of interesting things here for you.” Interesting was never good. That usually meant I was getting a freaky date. And it wasn’t always freaky in a good way.

“Okay, just give it to me straight.”

“Well, before I do, I just want you to know that there’s a two-thousand-dollar bonus for you this week if you take these two dates.” Before I could grab the papers, he pulled them back. “One of these was scheduled with Brian, but he had to back out. His mother is sick, and he’s taking a couple of weeks off to go visit her in Florida.” He placed that folder, perfectly straight, on the corner of his desk. “But that’s next Saturday’s date.”

“Great—you know that’s my one Saturday off, right?” I only get one Saturday off every other month. “What’s wrong with these dates that I would get a two-thousand-dollar bonus?”

“Nothing too awful—we’ll get to that. The bonus is pretty much for this date.” Stan stood there waving a folder in the air, still keeping it out of my reach.

“Jesus, Stan. Just give it to me.”

“You have to say yes first.”

I wasn’t completely stupid. “Let me think about that.” I put my finger to my chin and looked skyward as if I was studiously thinking. “Uh…no.”

“Come on, man. She specifically requested you and is willing to pay a shit ton of money for one night out with you. Do it as a personal favor to me.”

I shook my head and looked up at the ceiling in frustration as I rolled my eyes at myself. I knew I was going to say yes. So I suppose I actually am completely stupid. “Fine. Give it.” I grabbed the paper and stared at the name. “Oh, hell no, Stan. Are you crazy? Her father will kill me!” Yup, you guessed it. Sophia DeMarino.

“It’s fine. She has a wedding to go to tonight, and her date canceled just hours ago. It’s a friend of hers from college, and she doesn’t want to show up alone. Her father has nothing to do with it. He doesn’t even know she’s going.”

“Tonight? It’s Friday and my only other weekend day off! I’m going to be giving up my day off next Saturday too? Come on.”

“I know. As I said, it’s a personal favor to me. We’ll get you two other days off, okay?”

I knew I would give in. “She better not still be living at home.” I wasn’t going anywhere near that house ever again.

“She doesn’t.” He gave me the file as he got up from his desk. “Pick her up at four o’clock. And thanks.”

The other file was still lying very neatly on the corner of his desk. “What about the other one?”

“We’ll discuss her later.”

* * *

I
got
to Sophia’s apartment promptly at four. She answered the door in a sheer pink robe, causing me to check my watch. Averting my eyes and shifting into professional mode, I said, “I’m sorry. Am I early?”

Sophia smiled at me. She hadn’t changed much. Her hair was a bit shorter, but she still had the pouty lips and small, perky tits. Then, lifting my head to ensure I was paying attention, she untied her robe and stepped out of it. I could only stand there and watch as it slithered over her shoulders and fell to the floor. “Nope. You’re just in time. Nice to see you again, sugar.” She pulled me in by my tie and slammed the door shut with her foot. It was like the pool house all over again.

“Oh no. Sophia, stop.” I was just a nineteen-year-old kid the last time she pulled that stunt. At twenty-six, I was better prepared. I put my hands on hers to break her hold on my tie, but she just grabbed me with her other hand.

“Oh, come on, Joe. For old time’s sake.”

“Sophia, listen. I’m sorry about last time. I was young and excitable. That was unprofessional of me, but I’m not a prostitute. You can’t pay to have sex with me.” I was sticking to my guns this time. I did, however, give a quick glance down to my entirely too predictable dick.
You stay down!

“I know you’re not a prostitute, Joe. I do have a wedding to go to, but we don’t have to leave until six.” She broke away from me and spun around. “Do you like?”

Do I like? I’d have to be fucking dead not to like. She had on a white, lacy teddy thing that stopped just below her ass. White wouldn’t work on every woman, but her Italian heritage left her with a tawny hue to her skin all year round. She was gorgeous, and she knew it. The teddy was sheer. I mean totally sheer. I could see her big, brown nipples and her exquisitely manicured pussy as clearly as if she wore nothing at all.

You
know
the big guy took notice. “Sophia, you’re gorgeous and you know it. But I’m not here for that. Would you please cover yourself?” I tried to turn away as she ran her hands over herself, moaning as she paused at her breasts to pinch her nipples. My pants were now fully tented.

“I don’t want to.” She walked over to me and grabbed my hand, leading me over to the sofa. “If you don’t want me, you can just sit there and watch. I’ll be right back.”

I should have gotten up and left. Where was my pride? It certainly wasn’t in my pants. She gave me a chance to save myself. I know I should have, but I didn’t. A naked Sophia came back into the room carrying a few toys. She didn’t even bother speaking to me again as she turned on a tiny vibrator and put it on her clit.

“Ah God, that feels incredible. Of course, it would be better if it was your tongue.” She sat down in a chair facing me and put her feet on the coffee table, spreading herself wide for my viewing pleasure.

My mouth went dry at the sight, and I didn’t move a muscle. I tried. Really! Okay, not really. Fuck, she was beautiful. So swollen and wet. I already knew how she tasted, and truth be told, I
really
wanted to worship that tiny pebbled bud in the middle of all those wet folds. I felt my arms move and knew I was seconds away from getting up and doing exactly that. I’ve told you how much I love pussy, right? But then I remembered—I am not a prostitute! Fully under control (so I told myself), I watched as she took an extra-large dildo and inserted it into her pink, slick opening.
Fuck, that’s hot.

“Sophia…” My voice cracked. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Sophia, I’m going to go.” As soon as my body caught up with my brain, I was out of there. Any second now.

She jumped up, letting the dildo drop to the floor, and walked over to straddle me on the couch, leaving a wet mark on my pants where her juices soaked into them. “Not yet, Joe.” She pressed herself down onto my aching dick. I was so fucking hard. I wanted to come right there in my pants. If she kept riding me like that, I was pretty sure I was going to do just that. I grabbed her hips to push her off me.

“Sophia.”

“God, shut up, I’m so close.”

Jesus. This chick was going to come rubbing herself against my dick. Through my pants! Fuck that. I quickly unzipped my pants, whipped myself out, and threw her onto her back. Even though I had anger in my voice, I gave in. “Condom!”

She reached over into the coffee table drawer and pulled one out. Maybe she had them all over the house. Who cared? I ripped it open with my teeth and put it on. She had taken the opportunity to get on her knees with her ass up in the air. I didn’t need any further prodding.

“Jesus, Sophia.” I entered her with one long, hard thrust. I tried to move slowly, but she liked it rough.

“Pull my hair, Joe—hard.”

I grabbed a fistful of her hair as my dick pounded inside her nice, hot pussy. Her dirty talk really turned me on. I yanked on her hair hard, and she loved it.

“Slap my ass.”

I raised my hand and pulled her head back to look me in the eye. I wanted to make sure I understood what she said.

“That’s it, slap me!”

I did. Over and over again until she came screaming my name. I flipped her over onto her back and continued to ram into her as hard and as deep as I could go. By now, I knew how she wanted it.

I was banging her so hard, she was sliding on the carpet. I felt bad for a second about that. She had to be getting rug burns on her back. But hey—she liked it rough, right? I pounded into her until I was seeing stars from trying to hold off my orgasm. At the last second, just as I started to come, I pulled out. When I tore off the condom, a bit of my juice went flying with it, perilously close to her spread pussy. I quickly fisted my dick and squirted the bulk of my load all over her lovely, puckered tits. I sat there in awe as I watched her lick it off. She truly was one nasty, dirty slut. I have to say, though—I wasn’t quite as unhappy about having to be with her again.

* * *

S
tan was
in his office when I stopped by Thursday evening to grab the files of my scheduled dates for the weekend. One business dinner and the mystery file.

“How was slutty Sophia?”

I smiled at him and shook my head. “You know I never date and tell.” I was sworn to secrecy until the end of each month. The guys at Perfect Ten had a monthly pool betting on how many girls I’d banged during the month. Apparently, not everyone enjoyed their job as much as I did. I really can’t help it. Before each date, I give myself the “I’m not a prostitute” speech. I’d say it works only five to ten percent of the time—if that. Sometimes I wonder if maybe I’m addicted to sex.

“Aw, come on. Off the record, I promise.” Stan stood there and crossed his heart with his index finger.

“Yeah, right. You’re the least trustworthy guy here.”

“That hurts, Joe.” Stan had been known to cheat by calling up my dates under the pretense of making sure they were satisfied with my service. He could pretty much guess if I had had sex with them by how they rated me.

“Sure. Okay, give me the lowdown on Saturday’s honey.”

“You don’t sound like you’re looking forward to it. Getting too old to perform nightly?”

Honestly, I was beginning to wonder about that myself. Not the age part—or the actual sex part, but the part where it’s a different woman every night. I can tell myself that I’m not a man-whore as much as I want to, but the truth is, I’m a rich man after only six years in the business. Word got around about how much I love to worship pussy, and I was requested more and more. I would have to say, up to this point I’ve probably fucked ninety percent of my dates. Even though I still love sex as much as I always have, I’m starting to wonder if there’s maybe something more for me out there.

“Too old? Nah. I guess I’m just in a rut.” I leaned over and grabbed the folder.

“Wait!” Stan jumped up and grabbed it back.

“What the hell?”

“I just want to give you a heads-up. Remember, this was originally the new kid Brian’s date.” Stan looked at me expectantly, like she being Brian’s date explained the whole thing.

“And?”

“Well, you know the new kids get the, um, less desirable dates.”

“She can’t be worse than Sophia. What gives, Stan?”

“I think we should just do this like ripping a bandage off. She’s out in the waiting room. I’m going to go bring her in so the two of you can meet.”

“Okay.” It wasn’t unusual for us to meet our dates before we took them wherever they needed to go. Some women had a very specific idea of what they wanted their date to look like and what kind of personality would work for them. There were many times when I talked with a potential client for a while, and we mutually agreed she’d be better off with someone else. No big deal.