Buy Me, Sir

I shove it back in her bag.

Amy Leigh Randall.

It’s not a name I recognise. Not one that’s ever crossed my path before – I’m good with names.

I smile to myself.

Her familiarity must be a welcome illusion, my mind playing tricks on me.

A lucky find. Fate some may say, although I don’t go in for that shit.

I guess Claude just came through this time. I’ll forgive him the extra charges after all.

This was the best half a million I’ve ever spent.

I turn the bathroom door handle.MelissaAlexander Henley is in the room next door.

I can’t believe this is happening to me. I can’t believe this is real.

I’m still bleeding, but it’s not so bad. It’s pale now, and mixed with… him… his cum… and I didn’t think it would be possible to want him any more than I did before tonight, but I do. I want him more than ever.

I never want this to end.

I touch my neck, run my fingers where his held me tight, and I smile.

I feel so alive. Never more alive than I did when I felt myself slipping away. Scary, and exciting, my heart pounding in my chest as he choked off my air, and then… peace.

Calm.

A blackness creeping in. My ears ringing.

And him.

I hope this isn’t it. I hope we’re not done already.

I’m wiping myself for the final time when the door opens. I clench my thighs when he walks in, and he sees me. He sees and he tips his head.

“Feeling ok?” he asks.

“Yes, thank you,” I tell him. “I feel great.”

I get to my wobbly feet and flush the toilet, so aware of how naked I am under the hard lighting.

He watches everything. The way I soap my hands in the sink. The way I shake them, then dry them on the hand towel. I watch him right back in the mirror, burning everything to memory. The broad strength of his shoulders. His dark nipples on his toned chest. The trail of hair over his belly, to his cock. His cock is still hard.

I’m pretty sure that means we’re not done already.

I fluff up my hair before I turn to face him, trying to strike my most confident pose, even though I don’t feel confident at all.

My skin prickles as he steps closer, tipping up my chin to examine my throat.

“No marks,” he says. “Good.”

I wouldn’t care if there were. I wish I could find the words to say that without sounding like an idiot.

His hands rest on my shoulders, and I realise how big he is compared to me.

“You must be thirsty,” he says.

I nod. “A little.”

It makes him smile, and it’s only fleeting but it’s addictive. I love to see him smile.

“Come,” he says, and takes his hands from me. “Champagne.”

I follow him back through to the bedroom, hoping I’m not still dripping pink. He tops up my glass and hands it to me, and he toasts me with my glass of mineral water from earlier.

“To your first time, Amy.”

“To my first time, sir.”

He clinks my glass, and I drink down the bubbles. It’s good. The champagne is really good. I tell him so.

He examines the bottle. “You like? I’m not much for champagne myself.” He reads out the name on the bottle, some posh French word.

I shrug. “I’m not really much of a drinker… especially not the good stuff. I normally stick to juice. Less of a hangover.”

He nods. “Indeed. I’m of the same mind myself.”

Mr Henley takes a seat in one of the armchairs by the dresser, as though sitting naked in a hotel room is the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it is to him.

He gestures to the chair opposite him, and I sit, wondering what he’s thinking. Wondering where this is going.

“What brings you here, to a stranger’s bedroom, Amy?”

I smile. “I didn’t think you enjoyed small talk.”

He tips his head. “I don’t, but I’ll make an exception now we’re… acquainted.”

I shrug. “Not much to tell. I thought it was about time. I thought the money would be… useful.” I meet his eyes. “I didn’t want to be a virgin anymore. I thought this would be… memorable.”

“And is it?”

“Memorable?” I feel the grin creep across my lips. “Oh, yes.”

“And what now?”

“I hope we do it again,” I tell him honestly. “The night is young, right?”

His dark eyes twinkle. “Yes. The night is young.”

“And what about you, Ted?” I ask. “What brings you here?”

“A bad divorce and peculiar interests,” he tells me. “That and a sixty-hour working week, plus the added bonus of finding almost every human being I come across thoroughly intolerable.”

I nod. Smile. “Yep, I guess that’ll bring you here. I hope I’m not too… intolerable…”

“Not at all,” he tells me. “So far you’ve been thoroughly entertaining.”

“So far so good.” I laugh.

“So far so very good.” He takes a sip of water. “Are you at college? Studying?”