“That’ll be me,” Bubba Horton piped up at once, as Wes had known he would. “I’ll take Scarlett and Esmé.”
“And since Joanie here told me what that ruby at her throat signifies,” added Jed, “I’ll think I’ll try a little fun with whips and chain. I always wondered what it would be like.” He rubbed his hands together, his face greedy with lust.
“You won’t be disappointed,” Dawn said approvingly. “She can handle a whipping beautifully and will always ask for more, won’t you, Joanie, dear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the girl said softly, while Wes struggled to keep the horror out of his expression.
“That leaves Whitney for you, Tom,” Dawn added. “I presume you find her agreeable?”
Wes glanced at Whitney, who smiled hesitantly at him, a pleasing blush moving over her dewy skin. Her nipples, he couldn’t help but notice, were beckoning him like two ripe cherries beneath her silky gown. In spite of himself, Wes’ cock stirred in response. “You betcha,” he replied with Tom Cartwright’s most seductive grin.
“Just don’t stay up too late, boys,” Wallace said with a laugh. “You’ll want to be fresh for the hunt in the morning.
Whitney stood just inside the door of Wes’ room at the resort. She reached for the spaghetti strap on her shoulder and pushed it down, revealing one round, perfect breast.
Wes swallowed, sorely tempted. Then he thought about the camera recording their every move. “You know,” he said, stepping toward her and gently pulling the strap back into place. “I’m really tired. It’s been a long week. How are you at giving massages?”
Whitney looked confused. “Massages?” she echoed. Then a sly smile slid over her face. She reached out and placed her hand over his crotch. “Oh, I’m very good at massages, sir. Let me show you.” She sank to her knees in front of him and reached for his fly.
Wes stepped back. “No, no,” he said with a chuckle. “I mean an actual massage. My neck is killing me.” That wasn’t a lie—this weird fucking place had him completely on edge, every muscle tensed and on high alert.
Whitney glanced at the overhead light, an anxious look flitting over her face. So, she knew there was a camera, too. Did she get paid based on how much sex she was able to provide? Would she get in trouble with Dawn, the den-mother-cum-pimp, if he were to complain she didn’t put out?
“Let’s start with a back massage,” Wes said, reaching down to pull the girl to her feet. “And then we’ll see where we go from there.”
A look of relief moved over the girl’s lovely face. She followed Wes to the bed and watched as he stripped off his shirt and jeans. Leaving on his underwear, he lay facedown on the mattress. Turning his head to her, he said, “I’m ready.”
Whitney again slipped the straps of her gown from her shoulders, this time letting it fall from her curvaceous body. Wes realized his mouth had fallen slightly open with admiration, and he snapped it shut. Whitney’s eyes flicked once more toward the ceiling fixture. “I was born to serve,” she announced, as if making a speech. “It is my goal, my pleasure and my delight to make you happy, sir. Let me please you.”
What an odd thing to say. She sounded like some kind of Stepford wife, but Wes only nodded. “Okay, then. It would please me to have a massage.”
Whitney straddled his lower back. Her bare sex was moist and warm against his skin and his cock tingled in response. She reached for the bottle of body oil that had been conveniently placed on the nightstand beside the bed and squirted some onto her palm. Her fingers were surprisingly strong as she began to knead his neck and back muscles.
“That’s fantastic,” Wes said with a groan of sincere appreciation. “You really know what you’re doing.” There were worse things than having a beautiful naked girl give you a massage, even if she was being paid to do it, and even if they were being recorded.
Wes let himself drift in a semi-doze, relaxing fully beneath Whitney’s skilled touch. He came awake when she draped herself over his back, her breasts pressing like soft, plump peaches against his skin. She slipped her hand beneath his body and reached for his cock.
Wes rolled over onto his back, gently disengaging the girl in the process. He reached for the lamp beside the bed and clicked off the light, plunging the room into darkness. He slipped an arm around Whitney’s shoulder and pulled her against him so his mouth was close to her ear. “Okay with you if we just snuggle awhile?”
She tensed in his arms. “Please. I have to. He’ll find out,” she whispered urgently.
He? Who? Wallace?
A deep sense of disquiet moved through Wes’ gut. Aware the mic that was surely in the camera might be sensitive enough to pick up their murmurs, he moved his mouth even closer to her ear. “I’ll make sure it’s okay. I promise.” Turning his head, he cried out with lusty enthusiasm, “Oh, yeah. Yeah, baby, you hot little piece of ass. That’s it, oh, oh, yeah! Aaahhhhhh.”