Strangers for the Night (For The Night #1)
Read Strangers for the Night (For The Night #1) Online
Authors: C. J. Fallowfield
Strangers
for the Night
C.J. Fallowfield
Kindle Edition
Version 1E
ASIN: B00NF30P4U
Copyright © 2014 C. J. Fallowfield
All Rights Reserved Worldwide
Any unauthorized reprint or use of this
material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form, or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express
written permission from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
businesses, organizations and places or events, are either the product of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Image Copyright © 2014
Edited by Ella Marie
Cover Art by Kellie Dennis at Book Cover by Design
Foreword
Written as standalone
quick, hot reads,
For the Night
novella’s are told in alternating points
of view of Logan Steele, and his client, or clients.
However, in order to
fully enjoy Logan’s development they should be read in the sequence that they
are released.
For more information
on upcoming titles in the series and release dates, please see my social media
links:
http://www.cjfallowfield.co.uk
https://www.facebook.com/cjfallowfield
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7807992.C_J_Fallowfield
Chapters
My name is Logan Steele. I’m devilishly handsome, seriously
ripped, well hung, charismatic and highly sexed. Women just can’t resist me. So
when I lost my job in the construction industry and was struggling for cash, I
decided to put my assets to good use.
By day I’m a private personal fitness trainer. By night I’m
a high class gigolo.
I don’t advertise my sexual services anymore, I have a long
client list that come to me through word of mouth. I’m that good I’m booked
months in advance. Scores of women pay me extortionately high fees to fulfil
their fantasies. And for the most part I do. I have a strict set of rules that
I abide by, which are provided in the full contract that you’ll receive along
with the booking form, if accepted. I’ve bullet pointed an abridged version below,
just so you’re clear before you send me an email request:
Rules my clients must comply with are:
I must see a picture in advance.
I can decline the booking request without explanation.
I can only be booked for the night.
All sexual acts must be consensual.
I will provide you with a report to complete, then I will
choose the setting for our meeting based on your scenario.
I am flown first class or by private jet if I am required to
work abroad.
In the event of the above, I will provide my dietary
requirements in advance.
I will perform a full background check.
I base my variable charge on the scenario being requested.
“No” rules that I stipulate are:
No bareback.
No minors.
No physical violence.
Nothing illegal.
No form of emotional attachment during or after the event. I
am merely performing a sexual or companion service.
No contact after the event, unless it is for a new booking.
And my absolute number one rule, without exception is:
Full payment up front which, is non- refundable.
There is no requirement for a refund clause, I never fail to
perform.
So, now you are aware of my rules for the night and are
about to contact me, all that remains to be asked is “Who do you want me to be?”
I handed my overnight case and suit hanger to the steward on
the luxury private jet that was taking me to New York for the night, to meet
Camilla Domville, heiress to the Domville chain of six star hotels scattered
across the globe. I was used to the finer things in life, my clients were women
of means, but Camilla appeared to be in a league of her own and didn’t
understand the meaning of the word “restraint.” She’d sent a six bedroom jet to
fly me from London to New York. Just me. And the crew of course, who treated me
like royalty. I settled back in one of the soft white chairs, made from eel
skin, and was automatically offered a bottle of Cristal. I politely declined. I
didn’t drink on the job, it impaired my ability to keep Logan the gigolo separate
from my own persona. I was more than comfortable making small talk, but I never
divulged any personal information to my clients. Add in the fact that the sugar
levels in alcohol would play havoc with my physique, water was a far safer
option all around. I nodded my agreement to smoked salmon and caviar blini’s as
a canapé, along with some hot roasted nuts.
‘Sir has requested a goat’s
cheese salad with pear and walnuts with a balsamic glaze, followed by Pasta
Genovese with grilled chicken and a “spotted dick” for dessert
without
the custard.’ I struggled to contain my laughter at the look of distaste on the
steward’s face as he stated my choice of pudding. A stodgy suet pudding full of
raisins and dried fruit, it was one of my favourites from childhood. Plus it
was full of carbohydrates and natural sugars, all helpful given the amount of
calories I was planning on burning off with Miss Domville this evening.
‘Excellent, thank you. With
regards to my water, I’d prefer still to sparkling, a slice of lime, not lemon,
and hold the ice.’
‘Certainly, Sir. Your belongings
have been taken to your room. If you can please secure your seat belt we are
ready to depart. The flight is expected to be approximately seven hours, dinner
will be served at seven o’clock UK time and we expect to land at midnight,
which will be seven p.m. New York time, as requested.’
‘Perfect, thank you,’ I nodded. I
checked my watch, it was a little after five in the afternoon. I’d have plenty
of time to relax, eat, and maybe fit in some exercise before taking a nap and
then freshening up, so when I arrived I was ready for action. As the plane
began to taxi out onto the runway, I sat back in my chair and checked my
schedule for the months ahead with my clients. My finger automatically opened
the file on Summer Beresford, my next client. She was twenty-two, almost my
youngest client yet, with the exception of Camilla who was a year younger.
Women with the sorts of sums required for my services tended to be older,
usually married to wealth, or they were leaders in their field of expertise,
having clawed their way to the top and earned their money, or, as in Camilla’s
case, were heiresses to Daddy’s fortune. Summer stood out from the rest, for a
number of reasons. She was a natural beauty, not stunning like many of the
women who paid me, but a classic English rose. She had porcelain clear skin,
pink cheeks, bright blue eyes, full lips and full chestnut hair, that hung well
below her shoulders.
I was attracted to all of my
clients, unless my cock twitched on sight of their photograph I wouldn’t have even
considered taking the booking. I’d be a pretty poor fucking gigolo if I
couldn’t get it up, so the photos were essential to ensure I never failed on my
“no refunds offered” clause. While I always selected potential candidates based
on sexual attraction, there was something about Summer that made my pulse spike
that little bit more. On top of that, she didn’t appear to have money. My best
friend, Oliver Davenport, had hooked me up with his own personal investigator,
Ian Smith. As soon as a booking request with photograph came in, Ian would
perform full background checks on them. I wanted assurances that they had the
means to pay and that if they were seeing someone, or married, it wasn’t to a
mobster who was likely to put me in concrete boots if he found out what I’d
been doing with his wife.
Summer was an unknown actress,
who’d only had a few walk on parts in television, but had just landed the lead role
in a film version of a popular erotic romance novel. She was currently single
and living with her parents in London, my own home town. I was intrigued to
know what scenario she’d want me to fulfil and had sent her my standard report
to complete, in order for me to put together a quote if I decided to take the
booking. Her request had been simple, for us to meet in a hotel room and for me
to treat her as if she were a virgin and make love to her and pretend to teach
her all there was to know about sex. That was it, the rest of the brief was
left up to me. My curiosity with her had been peaked. Usually women who booked
me wanted me to be dominant, controlling, aggressive and forceful, not soft and
gentle. I’d typically have refused the booking had it been anyone else, I
didn’t do tender fucks, but I couldn’t stop opening her file and looking at her
photograph, so with my obvious interest in her, I’d accepted. I shifted uncomfortably
in my seat, there was definitely no lack of attraction on my part, I’d sprung a
fucking erection at the thought of looking at her photograph, before I’d even
re-opened her file. I sighed and closed it and opened the current one for
Camilla, to re-read her report and familiarise myself with tonight’s scenario.
Personal Attire
You will be dressed in a dark
grey suit, black brogues, black dress socks and a white shirt, unbuttoned at
the neck. You will wear no jewellery and no deodorant, but you will apply Black
Orchid cologne by Tom Ford. Clean shaven, no body hair but for the underarms,
legs and arms.
I winced internally as the memory
of that fresh back, sac and crack came back to me. I preferred manscaping, but
they never got any less painful.
Scenario
Two hot strangers meet in a
bar and you take her to your room to fuck her brains out.
I nodded as I read and memorised
the stipulations for where the sex would take place, along with an appendices
showing a floor plan of the $30,000 per night penthouse suite. Camilla wanted
it to feel as if I were an affluent businessman who could afford to stay there
and knew my way around it. I read on.
You will be masterful,
sexually aggressive, raw and passionate and make me feel like you can’t get
enough of me, that I’m the sexiest women you’ve ever fucked.
I chuckled at the request that I
attempt to perform for all four locations she had detailed, in priority order, “If
that wasn’t too much?” she’d written.
O Camilla, you have no idea how many
times I’m capable of fucking your brains out in one evening, or how hard I
fuck. You’ll be begging me to stop and asking for a break even before we get to
the fourth request,
I thought with a smile
.
I lay face down on my bed, kicking my heels up behind me as
I chewed on my pen and stared at my text books. Rhianna was blaring from my
iPhone doc behind me, singing about rude boys and I smirked at the thought of
the boy somewhere over the Atlantic on his way to fuck me. Boy was an
understatement from the black and white photograph that had been provided with
booking form. Logan Steele was all man, at twenty-eight, all
seriously
buffed to perfection and his reputation in the sack was legendary. I was sick of
the college boys I’d been sleeping with, they were too interested in my money,
not me, and rarely gave me the good pounding I’d been dreaming of. I had to
uphold somewhat of a conventional appearance, given Daddy’s status, which meant
no one-night stands, lengthy dating with Daddy’s approval before I had sex,
blah, blah bloody blah. I chuckled, in fact daddy still thought his precious
little princess was a virgin. All the more reason for going to Logan to fulfil
my fantasy, discretion was of paramount importance. The thought of meeting a
random stranger, in one of his hotels no less, and being fucked senseless was
intoxicating. I’d been dreaming of it since I lost my virginity, far too gently
when I was fifteen.
‘Camilla,’ roared Daddy’s voice.
I looked around startled as he strode across my room and turned off my music.
‘Daddy!’ I protested.
‘What the hell’s going on?’ he
demanded with his hands on his hips as he towered over me as I sat on my bed.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know the Sheikh is my best
client, well he tried to book the Domville signature suite tonight and was told
that it’s been reserved for you.’
‘I told you I needed it, Daddy.
It’s my one of my birthday treats remember? I’m having the girls over for a
sleep over.’
‘You couldn’t do it in the damn
house? We have fifteen en-suite bedrooms,’ he sighed as he ran a hand through
his hair. ‘It’s as good as a hotel.’
‘But I promised them,’ I whined,
with a well-practiced pout and watery eyes. I needed to flatter his ego too.
‘Please don’t make me cancel, they’re all so excited to see how Mr. Domville made
his billions with the flagship hotel, and to stay in the signature suite … it’s
legendary
.’
‘Camilla, he’s the VIP of VIP’s.’
‘More important than your own
daughter, than her birthday treat?’ I let a few tears trickle down my face and
he exhaled heavily and sat on the bed next to me and smoothed my hair.
‘O don’t cry, princess. Of course
no one’s more important than you, I’ll put him in the smaller presidential
suite. I’m sure he’ll understand when I explain.’
‘O Daddy, thank you,’ I smiled
and flung my arms around his neck, rejoicing on the inside.
‘Who’s coming? Can I trust them
in there? It’s not just my most expensively furnished and decorated room, it’s
my most treasured possession having her party.’
‘Daddy,’ I let him go and rolled
my eyes as I smiled. I loved that he adored me so much. ‘You can trust me to
make sure everything is looked after.’
‘No boys,’ he warned with a
pointed finger.
‘No boys,’ I nodded. From his
professional black and white head shot, in no universe could Logan Steele be mistaken
as a boy.
‘And why has Jensen advised me
that he’s flying the large jet from London?’
‘A friend from there couldn’t get
a flight out,’ I shrugged, knowing that Jensen would have kept his mouth shut.
I made sure that I seduced all of Daddy’s key employees, securing recordings of
the events, as a form of insurance policy for any indiscretions that they may
witness. Some had been a pleasure, some not so much. Alderton, his accountant,
a bald sweaty man in his early fifties had taken much effort to even contemplate,
let alone carry out. He was key however in ensuring that he covered my tracks
when it came to spending some of Daddy’s money without his knowledge, like the
fee I was paying Logan for tonight. I shuddered as the memory of Alderton’s
podgy belly smothered my toned cheerleader’s one as he’d panted, dripping sweat
from his brow and turned so red I was worried he was going to have a heart
attack and I’d die pinned underneath his fat frame. Anyone would think he’d
performed the New York marathon the way he gasped with each thrust, if it
lasted sixty seconds he was lucky. Very lucky, me too in a way, I’d never been
so happy to have sex with someone with a lack of stamina. I wasn’t even
convinced he’d penetrated me his dick was that small.
Thank God for “small”
mercies
, I thought with an internal giggle.
‘You’ll bankrupt me one day,
Camilla. Order whatever you want from room service, the bill’s on me, ok?’
‘Thank you Daddy, you’re the
best,’ I beamed.
‘Have a wonderful night and I’ll
meet you and your friends for lunch in the Domville private dining room.’
‘They’ll all be gone by then,’ I
lied. ‘How about we just have lunch on our own, without Beatrice.’
‘When will you start calling her
mother?’ he replied with another sigh as he pushed his hand through his
distinguished black hair, streaked with silver.
‘She’s
not
my mother,
she’s step mother number five and I
hate
her,’ I bit back angrily. I
didn’t even remember my own mother, she’d died in childbirth. Apparently Daddy
had been so distraught that was why he’d refused to have more children, and why
I was so precious to him. Beatrice joked that I should be called “Precious” he
was that blinded by me. I’d simply stuck my tongue out at her while he wasn’t
looking. If it came to a choice between me and one of his wives, I’d always
win, just like I always had.
‘You’ve not given her a chance.’
‘Well she’s not exactly given me
one, either. Please don’t put me in a mood Daddy, I have to get ready for my
special night.’
‘Are you getting ready here or
the hotel?’
‘I have the hairdresser, beauty
therapist coming to the suite in a few hours, I may make my way over now.’
‘Do you have a pretty party
dress, or would you like to get a new one?’
‘I’d love a new one,’ I clapped.
‘Charge it to my card, shoes and
bag as well. Can’t have my Princess looking anything other than stunning on her
party night.’
‘Daddy, you’re the best,’ I
squealed as I launched myself at him and peppered his cheek in kisses, making
him laugh.
I arrived in the six bedroom suite
with an entourage of staff behind me. I was having a facial and massage, spray
tan, then a mani-pedi with sparkling silver nails to go with my new silver
glitter ankle strapped heels. I always kept my waxing up to date, one never
knew when a blackmail fuck would arise with one of the staff. Then I’d booked a
haircut and colour, style and blow dry, to turn my straight blonde locks into
smooth shining sexy waves. I’d purchased an electric blue rubber mini dress,
with a silver zip at the rear and a green lace underwear set to match, to
enhance my green eyes. It was coming up to eight o’clock by the time I was done,
and I could feel myself dampening at the thought that Logan was waiting for me
down in the bar and that I’d have his cock buried inside me soon. He’d better
be as good as I’d heard and he’d promised, or I’d sue the hell out of him for
breach of contract.