As he slid his throbbing member into the surprisingly snug vagina, he felt his eyeballs press against the top of his head from the intense heat of this woman. He let his rod loiter within the gushing inferno, savoring its heat and texture for a moment, and then he made fists of his hands and placed them beneath Maria's ass.
"Yes, fuck me, Vern!" she cried. "You're doing it all just right. I-I couldn't ask for more. Ohhhh, yesss, give me that big, hard prick! Fuck mel"
Her head was waving from side to side as she pleaded for him to stick her, drive his gristle hunk into the depths of her twat. Vern's pants were about his ankles, his feet on the floor. He was supporting himself with both hands on the cushions of the sofa, his feet (shoes still on) on the floor and, of course, his pelvis bone pressed tightly to Maria's.
His leverage was excellent, and he put it to good use. He began gently, then pumped almost savagely in response to her command to "come down hard!"
He had never fucked a woman who wanted him to "come down hard." She kept begging him to come down "harder, harder, harder," and he complied, driving his hard-on furiously, piston-like, into the depths of her. She wanted no gentleness; she wanted to be battered by his pelvis, rammed until "I can feel my bone crack! Oh, please-harder…give me all you've got!"
To his amazement, Vern liked fucking hard this way. He had always considered himself a gentle lover, and so it had taken a minute to adjust, but now he was reveling in the force of his hip thrusts. He drove savagely, while Maria muttered four-letter words through clenched teeth in his ear and pummeled his humping buttocks with her heels. Finally, she announced screamingly that she was coming. He held back until he was certain she had reached the heights, then sped up his cock jabs until he orgasmed, too, just seconds after Maria's climax.
Panting, Vern dropped his knees to the floor, his hard-on slipping from the hot sheath of Maria's pussy. He wanted to let his member linger within her contracting hole, but he was exhausted from the all-out fucking and had to rest. He lay his cheek on her spasming stomach and breathed deeply, trying to regain his breath.
Finally, when they were both breathing more normally, Maria kissed him affectionately, said their lovemaking had been "heavenly" and went into Lance Gregory's private washroom. When she returned, Vern used the restroom, too.
They both dressed then and sat, satiated and smiling, there on the sofa. "We were in quite a rush," Maria said. "This sofa folds into a bed, you know. We could have pulled the thing out for greater comfort."
"Who was thinking of comfort?" Vern asked, grinning and patting her cheek. He frowned. "I thought you said you didn't usually make love to Dream-Date's new prospects?"
"I never did before," she said, "but I do know this sofa folds into a bed. Mr. Gregory informed all the Dream-Date girls of this fact. He gives the girls much latitude in handling their prospects, but thus far I simply haven't used the sofa for this sort of thing. Actually, I haven't had to."
Vern scanned her incredibly voluptuous body. The hills and valleys of flesh were perfection. "Yes, I can well imagine," he said. "But I don't understand…why me?"
She shrugged. "Who knows? Can you explain why it is some women turn you on more than others? Probably not. Well, neither can I. You see, I like intelligent men-sensitive men-men who have accomplished something and are successful. Not only do you qualify in this respect, but you're handsome, sexy, and you have other attributes I require." She reached out and gave his organ, limp now inside his pants, a squeeze. "You gotta pretty neat one there, Mr. Vernon Shipley."
"Thank you, ma'am. You're nicely equipped also, but then of course you know that. Guys have probably been worshipping you since-since puberty." She stared into his eyes boldly. "That's true," she said.
Vern suddenly sat erect, forcing himself to be serious, business-like. "I'll level with you, Maria," Vern said. "You're even more than I'd hoped for. As far as I'm concerned it's a sale. Til be needing you beginning this coming Friday night. Are you availableF'
"I rather suspect I'll make myself available," she said. "I am working with two other clients right now-nothing physical you understand-but I can wrap up my contracts with them by Friday. Shall I call Mr. Gregory and let him finalize the arrangements?"
"Yes," Vern said, nodding. "But I'll want you exclusively for myself. That's just the way I am. I-I wish there wasn't this business of the pimp to spoil an otherwise perfect arrangement."
Vern knew he was being unreasonable. The "pimp" remark had been unnecessary, to say the least, but he had not been able to suppress the word. To his surprise, Maria's expression hardened.
"Mr. Lance Gregory is not a pimp, Vern. Our relationship is going to be excellent-we both know that-but please make no more references to him in that manner, all right? I mean, he is my employer and the president of Dream-Date."
"Sorry," Vern said. "It just slipped out. Yes, go ahead and tell him to come in."
Maria went to Lance Gregory's desk and pushed the same button Lance had pushed when summoning Maria earlier. As they waited for Lance's entrance, Vern went over to the oil painting on the wall that Maria had straightened just before their lovemaking. It was a huge painting of a Spanish nobleman, a portrait. The man was dressed in a maroon-velvet coat with lace ruffles at the sleeve. Scrutinizing it closely, Vern saw that one of the eyes seemed different from the other.
Maria was staring at the door, waiting for Lance Gregory's entrance, so he ran his finger over the right eye of the portrait. It was a peep hole! He was certain of it! So Lance Gregory was a Peeping Tom, he thought. It angered him that his session with lovely Maria had been observed-probably by Gregory. He hoped this wasn't so, but the evidence seemed pretty overwhelming. Well, once he began seeing Maria alone there would be no more of that, he thought. Most important, he didn't like the idea that Maria had possibly been a part of the scheme. Well, she is his employee, he rationalized.
Lance Gregory knocked lightly on the door, then waited a moment and entered.
'Well, have you completed your interview?" he asked Vern.
"Yes," Vern replied. "I think Miss Reese will do very nicely."
"Good," Lance said. "Would you mind stepping out, dear, while Mr. Shipley and I discuss the arrangements?"
"Not at all," Maria said, blowing a kiss at Vern that went unseen by Lance Gregory. The scent of her cologne lingered after her exit.
Lance Gregory sat behind his desk and listened while Vern told him when and where and how often he would be requiring the services of Maria Reese. When he had finished, Gregory told him a $2500 deposit would be required and that her nightly fee would be $200. There would be a clause in the contract, too, that would permit Dream-Date to bill Vern for "extraordinary services."
"That much, eh?" Vern said. Actually, he had prepared himself for just about that amount. "And the $2500," he said. "Is it refundable, or what?"
"Most definitely," Gregory said. "Once Maria's services have been completed, the total depositless outstanding fees, of course-is totally refundable," he paused. "I cannot provide you with references unfortunately, Vern, because you understand that our relationship is entirely confidential. like a lawyer or a doctor, we do not reveal information to anyone, under any circumstances regarding our clients-in our case, not even their names." He chuckled, but again there was no animation to either the sound or the facial movement. "You understand that many of our clients are very important people in this city-most of them married."
"Yes, I understand," Vern said, taking his checkbook from his coat pocket. He did not like Lance Gregory, but he sure as hell liked Maria Reese.
"Twenty-five hundred," he said, beginning to write. "And how shall I make it out? To Dream-Date Incorporated?"