25. 25
25
Barrett looked out of the panoramic window at the behemoth Grand Tetons surrounding Jackson Lake. It wasn’t often he’d gotten this far north, but every time he did, the view astounded him. Every time he laid eyes on the snowy peaks and lush meadows around the body of water, it felt like the first time.
Jackson Hole was stunning, he had to admit. He imagined other cities would have their appeal, too. He’d grown eager to venture elsewhere, always imagining extended trips to rainy London and the sweltering Florida Keys. Hell, even Nebraska would be a change of scenery.
Growing up in Jackson Hole, he watched the small picturesque town grow with him. But lately, it felt… too small. The surrounding mountains used to feel like a protective shield against the outside world, but now it felt more like a container. The same faces passed by him at the grocery store, at church service, at the honky tonk, at the gym.
He felt suffocated. Like he was in the film Groundhog’s Day , forced to relive the same day with the same people over and over again.
Barrett stared through fake wire-rimmed glasses as prismatic lights from the front door’s slotted windows dappled the dusty entryway in front of him. He wore a white long-sleeve shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Tight, pressed slacks clung to the curves of his ass.
The Unscrupulous Professor costume wasn’t the most comfortable thing to clean in and probably provided the most skin coverage of all of the costumes, but for the last two hours, this particular client, Mrs. Walton, looked like she was about to have a hands-free orgasm just watching Professor Anderson wipe her fixtures down.
After the sconce in front of him was sparkling, he turned to her. “Was that the last one?”
“It was,” she said firmly. “I still have you for another hour, though.” Her sultry tone was about as subtle as a sledgehammer. “How about you teach me a little lesson , say, in the bedroom, Professor?”
He laughed nervously, unsure what to say. Had he not been on thin ice with Will and Ava or enamored by his rainbow-haired Aphrodite, old Barrett would have had his clothes off by now, smacking this woman’s ass implants and making her deep-throat his dick as penance for making The Professor stay late to supervise her detention.
New Barrett wanted to keep his job, one that was already paying almost triple what he’d been paid to haul furniture around northern Wyoming when you factored in tips.
New Barrett wanted to act out this particular fantasy with Chastity instead. He could imagine her in a tiny, pleated skirt that covered almost nothing. Cotton panties. Pierced nipples trying to rip through the thin fabric of her tight white uniform top. Rainbow pigtails perfectly angled for makeshift handlebars. Cheap red sucker rolling against her tongue…
The slight lines around Mrs. Walton’s mouth struggled to twist upward into a Botox-deadened smile.
“My grades are slacking.”
She sashayed up to him in her own uniform short skirt, hand stroking his bare pec beneath the open neckline of his button-down.
“I’m in desperate need of some one-on-one tutoring.”
He chuckled, pulling her hand away from his chest. “Under different circumstances, this would be my lucky day, but sadly, this isn’t that kind of business.”
“Oh, come on. I paid for three hours of deep cleaning.” Mrs. Walton leaned forward, squeezing her tits together, giving him a generous flash of bra-less -- impeccable -- implants through the low neckline of her schoolgirl’s shirt.
His usual urge to fight an erection wasn’t there. Something sexy was happening, but his hard-on was nowhere to be found. It was certainly curious.
Before he could give it any more thought, she gestured to a plush leather couch next to a brown-and-white cowhide rug. “I won’t tell if you won’t, Professor.”
This was it. Fourteen-year-old Barrett’s dream.
Getting paid to fuck.
As the urge to leave strengthened, the pimple-faced teenager from his past beat against the inside of his skull, screaming, ‘Don’t be a fool!”
Walton was beautiful. Willing . She craved what he had to offer: No strings attached cock.
“I assure you,” she sat down on the couch, knees ever-so-slightly parting in his direction, “your tip will be more than generous.”
The immature Barrett wanted to make a joke about his tip, a pun that would make her laugh until those silicone D-cups actually jiggled. But he held back. He wondered for a moment if this was a test from Will and Ava? A set-up. A sting operation to see if he would stay true to his word about not risking the reputation of their business to a prostitution scandal.
From the couch, her sapphire eyes combed over every inch of him with an appreciative gaze.
“If you’re having difficulties, I can promise that my grades won’t be the only thing I can get up with a little hard work and guidance.”
She winked. Her strawberry-colored lips were glossed, a thin sheen over a half-cocked grin.
“Can I ask you something?”
“ Mmmmmm ,” she moaned.
“Why the Professor outfit?” He was eager to change the subject, waltzing back over to her windows to study the unbelievable view.
Mrs. Walton sighed at the momentary setback and leaned back into the couch. “I lost my virginity to my Women’s Studies teacher at UW at the time.”
Barrett smiled. There was always a reason. Somehow, Will had learned how to tap into those deeper desires of the women in Jackson and had curated an eclectic but effective arsenal of choices on the website’s drop-down menu.
“There is something so hot about a man in charge when you’re young and naive. We fucked like bunnies the entire semester.” She sighed. “I think about him all the time.”
Barrett turned in time to see the woman slowly popping the buttons of her shirt open. He cleared his throat.
“I’m afraid I really can’t.”
“Is it because I’m a student?” She grinned in character. “I promise, Professor, your wife will never find out. And I would never do anything to jeopardize your tenure at the school…”
“No,” Barrett said, wincing. “I’m not playing the role, Mrs. Walton. I’m telling you that I really can’t . No sex with the clients. It’s one of our cardinal rules at Man Maid , unfortunately. So that makes this,” he said, gesturing between them, “a no-fly zone. I’m so sorry.”
With a sigh, her shoulders slumped. “Well, this is embarrassing.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she turned away. “God, I’m so pathetic.”
“No! Not at all.” He waved away her words in the air. “You’re gorgeous and adventurous. If this were any other situation, we’d be destroying that fucking cowhide rug right now. But I really like this job. I get to meet people like you and see places like this.” He motioned around him. “I don’t want to jeopardize that.”
His mind flashed to Chastity.
Even though they weren’t dating, he felt a small pang of guilt for even considering fucking the desperate housewife before him.
“Plus, I’m getting to know someone. I really like her. I’m tryin’ real hard not to screw things up before anything can even get started.”
“Pfft.” She scoffed with sad eyes, her face looking ten years older as she frowned. Her tone grew nasty like a switch had flipped. “You think life is gonna be sunshine and roses now that you found someone special? Ugh. Please ,” she spat. “Wait until you’re asking each other to check each other’s moles and pissing with the bathroom door wide open. Relationships are messy . They’re ugly and exhausting. When I said ‘I do,’ I thought we’d be together in the good times and the bad. But that workaholic asshole is never even here .”
“Well, with all due respect, banging your maid probably isn’t a step in the right direction for your marriage.”
“What the hell would you know about marriage ?” she snarled. Her eyes were hard, like those of a wounded animal. “You have fuck boy written all over you.”
“You might be right,” he said sternly. “I don’t know a goddamned thing about marriage from experience. But before my parents died, I remember the way they looked at each other. I remember the way their voices softened when they talked to one another. Hell, even my grandparents… I remember my grandmother sitting by my grandfather’s side for weeks in the hospital until the day the pneumonia finally took him. I see how lost she is without him every time I look into her eyes. To this day, she can’t sleep a full night without him in bed beside her. She calls me at three in the morning sometimes just to hear a familiar voice. So, sure, I’m a ‘ fuck boy ’ because that level of pain and loss scares the absolute shit out of me.”
Barrett started to leave and then walked back again, standing in front of her on the cowhide rug, voice softer. “I see in you what I see in my grandmother: a lost woman who needs some companionship.”
Those words hit her hard. She looked away.
“So, look all you want. Fill your spank bank with images of the ripped teacher in your den to use with your rabbit vibe the second I leave, but that’s it. If you want to fire me… I can’t stop you.” He patted the sides of his slacks. “But next time… if there is a next time… if you want to use my body, use my ears . If you want to talk, I’m actually a way better listener than I am a mopper.”
She laughed through tears. “I should hope so. You missed a huge chunk of the kitchen.”
“ Fuuuuuck ,” he groaned, deflated. “Sorry. I’ll redo it. Although, in my defense, you have the biggest goddamn kitchen I’ve ever seen in my life .”
She laughed and wiped a tear from her cheek. “It’s fine. Get it next time.”
“Yeah?” He sounded hopeful at the chance to return.
“I apologize. When Will used to come, he used to…” She blushed.
“Will used to what ?” Barrett was genuinely curious now. “Fuck you?”
“No! He used to… talk dirty . Threatened to bend me over and spank my ass with a ruler if I misbehaved.”
“Did he actually spank you?”
She shook her head. “Just the dirty talk.”
Barrett thought for a moment.
Technically, a spanking didn’t fall under the umbrella of prostitution, at least to his knowledge.
“You got a ruler? Like, a foot-long one?”
The question turned her on in an instant, eyes almost twinkling with arousal. She squirmed against the cushion of the couch unknowingly. “Yes. It’s metal, and it makes one hell of a smack.”
“Where is it?”
“It’s in my office.”
“ Get it ,” Barrett ordered. “N ow .”
She gasped and scurried into the back.
She wasn’t firing him, which felt like a blessing. A couple of hard whacks against her silken-panty-clad cheeks from the mean ol’ Professor’s ruler would be a small price to pay to keep her as a happy, loyal client.
Hell, with how thirsty she’d seemed a few minutes earlier, Barrett knew it would probably make the broad’s whole month.