Chapter Four
The red door hadn’t become any less foreboding for knowing what lay behind it. It was still a faceless man who could be anybody. All I knew was I’d escaped unscathed once, so it was pretty unlikely that any horrible fate would befall me a second time. At least, I hoped not.
That time, I was quicker to get to the top of the stairs with my hand resting on the bedroom door handle.
Pausing, I took a deep breath before pushing it open.
It was no surprise to find the same suffocating darkness as the previous time, but it still didn’t make it any easier.
I stood with my back plastered against the door, my eyes still fighting to try and make shapes out of the darkness, even though the rational part of my brain knew it was useless. “Hi, it’s me. Danny.”
The silence seemed to stretch on forever. I was just beginning to consider the possibility of the room being empty, when the husky whisper sounded from the same place as last time. “Clothes off. On the bed.” Great! The mystery voice has even less to say today.
Georgia had a great many theories on why the man spoke in a whisper, and had insisted on sharing them, whether I wanted to hear them or not.
She’d used her first theory: a belief the man might be suffering from a disease like emphysema to back up her earlier assumption that the man might be really old.
She’d eventually talked herself out of that one, surmising that if he was that old, he wouldn’t have been able to get it up.
I’d decided against pointing out the wonders of Viagra.
Her next theory had centered around the possibility of the man being someone famous.
She’d really gone to town on that one, detailing how I could go to the newspapers and make some serious money when I found out his true identity.
She hadn’t seemed to consider the fact that even if it were true, I’d hardly want the whole world to know that I had sex for money, even if it was with a celebrity.
There had been other theories, but to be honest, I’d stopped listening by then.
She didn’t seem to understand that while she found that an amusing flight of fantasy from her real-life stresses, it was my real life, and at the end of the day, I still had to go and have sex with him.
Whoever he was. Her last instruction had been to pay more attention, look for clues, so we could work something out.
I let my jeans drop to the floor, my fingers brushing the envelope full of money in the pocket: the reminder of why I was there.
The new washing machine was due to arrive the following day, I just needed to earn the money to pay for it.
I’d overthought this imminent visit over the past couple of days; unable to decide what would be worse, the possibility that I might enjoy it just as much as the last time or the fear I wouldn’t.
Naked, I took the few cautious steps forward that would bring me into contact with the bed.
I bit back a curse as, yet again, I managed to walk into it.
Automatically assuming the same position as last time, I lay, listening to the sound of my own breathing.
It was the only sound in the room. Since speaking those few words, the voice had remained completely silent.
“Jay?” No response. I tried again. “I’m on the bed.
” Still no response. It was seriously weirding me out.
I tried another tack. “Getting kind of lonely now. Are you going to come over here?”
“Sorry.”
I frowned into the darkness. Sorry, what? Sorry, no, I’m going to stay over here. Sorry, but I want you to leave. Sorry, you have to have sex for money. Sorry, my Viagra hasn’t kicked in yet, I need to wait a bit longer before I can perform. There was no further explanation. “Do you want me to go?”
The bed dipped beside me. I let out the breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding.
I felt the heat of the hand, a few seconds before it finally made contact with my back. “No. Do you remember the rules?”
“No touching.”
“That’s right. Keep your hands on the bed. Faceup.”
I don’t know why it came as a surprise that he wanted me to roll over.
I did as he’d requested, staring sightlessly at a ceiling I couldn’t even see.
I guess I’d expected it to follow the exact same pattern as last time.
The change made me nervous. Correction, even more nervous.
Lying on my back, it was hard to know what to do with my hands.
The temptation to reach out and grasp onto something, anything, was much greater.
I curled my fingers into my palms and waited.
Hands landed on my chest, subjecting it to the same thorough exploration as my back on the previous visit.
I bit my lip when the fingers moved to my nipples, unwilling to give away to a complete stranger how sensitive they were.
But somehow, he seemed to sense it. And the fingers kept returning, kept circling, rubbing and pinching, until I was finally unable to hold back a gasp.
That seemed to give him the green light and he spent a long time teasing them, my moans of appreciation now coming at regular intervals.
When his hands moved away, I wasn’t sure whether it was a blessing or a curse.
I fought to regain composure as the talented fingers moved to my stomach.
So much for worrying I might not find it as enjoyable as last time.
He’d barely touched anything, apart from my nipples, and I was already ready to go up in flames.
I was beginning to feel like I should be paying him.
The fingers continued mapping my body, moving from feet to neck.
I’d never considered my feet as an erogenous zone before, but as his fingers traced over the arch of my foot, I was forced to reconsider.
A sudden thought sprung to mind. Was he blind?
Could that explain the darkness? Explain why he was spending so long learning my whole body.
I shuddered when the fingers suddenly returned to my nipples, delivering more sweet torture to the already throbbing area.
About the only place he hadn’t touched was my cock.
It lay fully erect against my abdomen, almost begging to be touched.
In all his travels over my body, he’d carefully avoided going anywhere near it. Frustration burned through me.
I froze as fingers suddenly touched my face, grazing over one cheekbone.
“Shhh, relax. Not going to hurt you.” It was a shock to hear him speak again.
I’d been so lost in a world of silence and touching.
He’d let his hands do all the talking and my body had been loving what they had to say.
I forced myself not to squirm as his fingertips continued to explore my face, tracing my nose, smoothing over my eyebrows.
It somehow felt more intimate than anything that had gone before.
A voice inside my head mocked that idea: more intimate than fucking, Dean.
Really? More intimate than him spending ages with his fingers up your ass, driving you crazy?
He dragged the pad of his thumb over my lower lip.
I couldn’t help myself, my tongue rose to meet it.
The movement elicited a sharp intake of breath at the contact.
Shit! Did that count as touching? When the thumb didn’t move away, I sucked it into my mouth, closing my lips around it and sucking it like it was a cock.
When my teeth grazed the soft underside, it elicited another moan.
I knew I should stop. This wasn’t just lying there and doing my job.
Only problem with that idea was, I didn’t want to.
I put all my skill into sucking that thumb, using lips, tongue, and teeth.
When it was finally withdrawn, I felt strangely bereft.
The next logical step would be for the guy to give me his cock, so I could give it the same treatment.
I licked my lips in anticipation, glad that the darkness hid the action from sight.
There was the familiar noise of a drawer opening.
No blow job, then. Unless, he didn’t do them without a condom.
I hoped not. I hated the taste of latex.
There was a clicking noise I couldn’t identify.
I strained my ears, trying to work out what was coming next.
When a lubed hand enclosed my cock, my hips bucked off the bed.
“Oh shit! That feels good.” The hand began an immediate slow slide from base to tip.
I trembled under the perfect rhythm and speed, an orgasm already creeping far too close.
When lubed fingers slid down between my ass cheeks, searching for my hole, I shifted, bringing the intended target into close contact.
One finger probed, before sinking in up to the knuckle.
The hand abandoned my cock momentarily. It pushed my thighs wider apart, freeing up more room for the finger to move deeper.
Then it traveled to my chest, tweaking a nipple before returning once again to the expert hand job.
At the same time as the hand sped up, he introduced another finger. “Oh God! Oh God! Don’t stop.”
I squirmed under the exquisite dual torture. This man—whoever it was—could play my body like a violin. When both hands disappeared at the same time, I was past the stage of rational thought. “Please. Please, just…” I wasn’t even sure what I was asking for.
At the rustle of the condom, I could have cried with relief.
“Hands and knees.”
I obliged quickly, ass in the air, head on the pillow, breathing in the same cologne as last time.
Knowing he couldn’t see, I spread my thighs wide.
Hands came down to grasp my hips, pulling me backward.
At the same time, I felt the blunt intrusion pushing against my rim.
I groaned as the head pushed in, my breath coming in desperate pants.
I made a concerted effort to regain a small measure of brainpower, and attempted to catalogue anything which might clue me into knowing more about the mystery man.
But apart from the grip of his hands on my hips, there was nothing: no sound, no contact anywhere else.
Well, apart from the above average-sized cock pushing inexorably up my ass.
His fingers tightened as he paused, fully embedded.
I attempted to breathe deeply, struggling to adjust. “Tell me when I can move.”
“I will, just wait…one…” I took a few deep breaths before trying an experimental wiggle. Sparks of pleasure shot up my spine. “Okay.”
He didn’t hold back. I’d never fully understand the saying of being fucked into the mattress before.
I understood it now, as I was mercilessly pounded.
I’d like to say it was too rough. I’d like to say it finally woke me up from the strange hypnotic sexual trance he’d put me into.
Instead, I soaked it up like a sex-starved slut, pushing back against him.
When his hands left my hips to slide around to my nipples, I hovered on the edge of orgasm.
His hand slid lower. As soon as it brushed my cock, I came; waves of pleasure washing through my body.
His fingers returned to my hips, digging in, as his orgasm closely followed mine.
Just like last time, within seconds he’d withdrawn and jumped off the bed.
I wondered what exactly he thought I was going to do post-orgasm which warranted the need for such a quick escape.
Still gasping, still on my hands and knees, I attempted to scrape my brain back into some semblance of order.
Maybe if I talked to him, he’d feel more comfortable.
Maybe he’d reveal more than just his name.
Something to put my mind at rest, that I wasn’t dissolving into a puddle of desire under the hands of a geriatric.
“Hey, Jay.” I was used to the silence by now.
I carried on regardless, directing it toward the usual spot in the room.
“I probably shouldn’t say this, but that was…
” I attempted to pick a casual word carefully.
“—you know, good. Thanks.” It wasn’t like he couldn’t be aware that both times, I’d come noisily.
Hell, the evidence was all over the sheet under me.
I moved myself to sit on the edge of the bed, staring into the darkness, facing the place where I assumed he’d returned to.
“I could stay for a while. We could talk. Get to know each other a bit better.”
The voice, although still a whisper, was a lot sharper than I’d ever heard it before. “I don’t need that.”
I cringed. I was an idiot. He’d paid me for sex, and I was what, trying to befriend him? If he wanted to talk to me, he would. After all, he paid for my time, and it was up to him how we spent it. “Sorry. I just thought—”
“Did you pick up both envelopes?”
“No. It didn’t seem right. Not until I’d…” The words “earned it” stuck in my throat, suddenly seeming impossibly sordid and tawdry. “No.”
“Make sure you get it on the way out.”
The dismissal was clear. Again. I stood up and felt my way blindly over toward the door, bending over to collect my clothes. “Bye then.”
“Will you come back next Tuesday?”
I paused. I could have sworn there was an edge of vulnerability in the words. I didn’t need to think about my answer. “Yes.” I knew I’d be back.
I was halfway out of the door when the whispered response of “good” followed me.