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By Javahead (danac@morc.mfg.sgi.com)

I hate wearing business suits. Dressing for an evening out is fun; you can show some flair if you want. But business suits are *supposed* to be boring. Hell, that's the point. You want to look conservative, trustworthy, conventional, inoffensive - in a word, bland. Don't want to scare off a potential customer, after all. And they're usually uncomfortable, too.
You can also get tired of strange hotel rooms. This one wasn't too bad. It had a king sized bed; the bathroom was actually pretty nice. It even had a minibar that I had already stocked with my own ice and soda. But it was still a hotel room: standard fittings, easy to clean up, interchangeable with hundreds of others across the country. After a while on the road, the walls can start closing in on you.
So what was I doing wearing a business suit, sitting in a hotel room and staring at the walls? Feeling pretty lonely and bored, that's what. At least I'd be checking out tomorrow.
There was nothing on TV that sounded interesting. I had forgotten to bring a book to read, and my chances of finding something worth reading after everything but all-night markets had already closed seemed dim. I felt bored, irritable, and not at all sleepy. Let's be honest, frustrated and horny, too. The whisky bottle by the bar looked *too* tempting for me to open it;
I like to drink to enjoy it, not to get drunk, and if I started alone now I would probably kill the bottle. I decided to head to a liquor store I'd spotted earlier, a few blocks away. Lacking anything better, they could be counted on to have a pretty complete collection of girly magazines. Probably leave me feeling even more frustrated, but what the hell.
I got the car out of the lot and headed over. The hotel was in an OK area, but the few blocks over to the store cut across the local red-light district. You know what I mean; every major city has one, a place with adult bookstores, maybe a strip joint or two - and hookers on every street corner.
By the time I'd gone a couple of blocks, I'd seen over a dozen girls. Bright, tight, scanty clothes and garish makeup were the only constant. The girls themselves ranged from sort-of pretty to plain, gaunt to plump, a pale blond with big hair to a very dark black with her hair up in hundreds of beaded braids.
Despite myself, I was tempted. "No one else could ever find out", I told my conscience, "And I'll make *damn* sure to wear a condom." At the next light, I turned to circle the block.
I wasn't in any hurry now; I wanted to survey all the local talent and chose the one most to my taste. "Or maybe I'll still turn back," I told myself, knowing it was a lie.
As I came down the block for the second time, the door of a seedy looking all night donut shop at the far corner swung open and a girl stepped out. She was standing on the curb directly under a streetlight before I drew level. From a distance, she looked like what I had in mind. Long dark hair. Medium-dark skin. Slender. Rather short. Hispanic? Asian? Italian, maybe? I couldn't tell, but I slowed to take a closer look. As I braked to a stop, she stepped confidently up to the door of the car. She paused with her hand on the door handle, peering suspiciously in. I stared right back. Up close, definitely Asian features. Young, but not a kid ("probably more experienced" whispered through my mind). Small breasts, but her thin white tube top looked damn nice on her. A short, side-button blue mini skirt with the bottom two buttons undone. Knee-high boots. Black leather purse on a shoulder strap.
"I *want* her," I decided. When I smiled at her and patted the seat, she slipped in.
"Want a ride?" I asked, starting the ritual.
"Maybe." She regarded me carefully. "Can you prove you're not a cop?"
"Can you prove *you're* not?" I returned. Some of her tension eased, but she remained wary.
She glanced around. Satisfied that no prowl car was in sight, she pulled down one side of her tube top for a moment. I caught a mouth-watering glimpse of an erect, dark-brown nipple before she pulled it back up.
"Your turn."
I placed her hand on top of my bulging crotch. She gave it a squeeze before pulling her hand back.
"What do you want to do?" she asked. Her tone was considerably less hard, though still controlled. Definitely a lady who could watch out for herself.
"How much do you charge?"
"I'll give you a blow job here in the car for $25. For $75, I'll give you a straight fuck, but you've got to rent a room if you're not staying in a hotel close by. $100, I'll give you half and half - you can come twice. Tell you what - it's kind of late and getting cold. For $200, I'll give you all night."
"Kind of expensive for all night. I probably can't come more than two or three times, anyway. What makes you think you're worth it?"
"I'm worth it. Look at this." She lifted the front of her skirt and pulled her panties to one side, revealing her closely cropped, black haired crotch. Dark brown cunt lips, almost as dark as the nipple she had flashed, pouted slightly. "I've got the tightest pussy on the street. I get my health checked once a week, and make all my johns wear rubbers, so you're going to be safe - you couldn't pay me enough to take it bareback. Besides " she gave a crooked grin "I saw the way you gave me the eye before you pulled over. Got a thing for oriental girls, hmm?"
"Maybe." I smiled back. "Or maybe I just think you've got the prettiest cunt I've seen in a long time. All night it is. You charge extra if I want to eat you out?"
She gave me an approving look. "Do a good enough job, and it's free. Get me to come, and I might even consider a refund."
Fortunately, the hotel was one of those California affairs with a parking lot to the side rather than a garage, and a side door that my room key could open. I didn't want to try talking her past the front desk - her clothes shrieked "street whore" from a block away. We didn't meet anyone on the elevator or in the hall. With a feeling of relief, I swung the door of the room closed behind her.
She surveyed the room carefully. "Nice. Not bad at all. You gotta get up early in the morning, or can we take our time?" "I need to check out by 12:30. If you want, we can sleep in.
Room service breakfast, maybe?"
I was rewarded with a speculative smile. "Mm. You aren't too bad, stranger. Got something I can call you?"
"Dave. And you're..."
"Nita."
Before she asked, I counted out $200 and handed it to her. I suddenly realized that if she stayed here, she could easily slip out with my wallet while I was sleeping. She gave a grin at my worried look.
"Never in the Navy, were you?"
"What?"
"Look, I'll show you. I'm honest, and I'm not gonna roll you, but *you* don't know that - so let me show you something." She had me raise the mattress and place my wallet underneath the middle. There was no way she'd be able to get it out while I was sleeping on top without waking me. When she said she was honest, she must have meant it.
Nita surprised me again by declining my offer of a drink, though she did accept a soda. She went along enthusiastically when I suggested we clean up before bed, though. Probably a treat to have a customer who didn't smell of stale sweat and cigarette smoke.
The bathroom got a nod of approval. She bypassed the tub in favor of the large shower stall, and quickly skinned off her clothes.
Her body was everything I had hoped for. Short, slender, but definitely feminine. Nice, tight, bottom. Neatly trimmed pubic patch. Small breasts with large, erect nipples. I had her turn around slowly so I could see all of her.
She gave an indulgent smile when I pulled her close enough to suckle on a nipple, but pushed me gently away after a few seconds. "Careful, Dave. Shower now. You can do that later, maybe."
The shower was fun - she insisted on washing me, and used her whole body to do it with. I had to force myself to slow down having that slippery, nude body rubbed all over mine had me on the verge of orgasm several times. She seemed to enjoy teasing me - whenever she sensed that I was close to coming she would ease back. It was almost a relief when she shut the shower off and reached for a towel to dry me.
Still wrapped in towels, we returned to the bedroom. She turned back the sheet on the bed, and waved for me to sit down. From her purse, she pulled a small, foil- wrapped packet - a condom. She gave a slightly apologetic smile.
"Remember, I warned you that you have to wear it. Besides, it's safer for you this way."
"Safer for you, too. I'd hate for you to get something nasty from a customer."
Apparently, I'd said the right thing. She pulled my towel off, and rolled the condom onto my painfully swollen cock.
Letting her own towel slide to the floor, she knelt and slipped her mouth down over my rubber-encased penis. She was *very* good. Professional. How many cocks does a girl have to eat to gain that kind of skill? I wrapped both hands in her hair and released myself to the experience. I was grateful for the condom - I wanted this to last, and I was already halfway there from her teasing in the shower. I tried to breathe steadily and control my reactions, but it only helped slightly.
Despite all I could do I soon passed the point of no return. I don't believe I have ever had a more powerful orgasm.
Afterwards, I collapsed on the bed, momentarily limp. Nita went into the bathroom briefly, and returned with a warm cloth. She removed the condom from my rapidly softening dick, and used the cloth to give it a careful washing. Only after she was fully satisfied with its cleanliness did she return the cloth and the towels to the bathroom.
Still nude, she slid into bed beside me.
"I know it'll be a while before you can go again. You wanna suck my titties some, like you were doing earlier?"
She had marvelous nipples - large, dark brown, and always at least half erect. Sensitive, too - she would giggle and pull back if I got too enthusiastic. Sooner than I had thought possible, I felt the beginnings of desire returning.
This time, I pushed her back on the bed. When she reached for her purse, I stopped her.
"Later. I want to eat your cunt first."
"You *were* serious - I wasn't sure. Do you know how many men I've had in there?"
"Probably none as horny as I feel right now when I think about eating it. I *love* pussy, and yours is about the prettiest I've seen."
It was, too. Her cunt had medium lips, just a shade lighter brown than her nipples. She kept her bush neatly trimmed; the sparse hair was glossy black and as straight as the hair on her head. Despite her professionalism, she seemed to be at least mildly turned on; the inner lips were folded back, and a sheen of lubrication covered them. Both her inner cunt and her swollen clit were a deep, reddish pink.
I took a moment to savor the clean, salty/musky aroma before diving in. The taste was as delicious her smell had promised clean, tangy, with a slight salt aftertaste. At first, she let me do whatever I wished, but her hands soon came down and pulled my head more firmly into place. I could feel her pushing her pussy harder into my face, as well. Soon, she was controlling the pace.
I could have happily continued for most of the night, but she wouldn't allow it. Her demands became more and more urgent, more and more frantic. Finally, she ground her pussy into my face as hard as she could and stiffened; after a few seconds, she shuddered and relaxed.
I lifted my head and looked up. Her eyes were half- closed. Her upper chest had a reddish flush, while her nipples had hardened into swollen spikes. Unless she was a fine actress, she had just had an orgasm, and a powerful one.
She gave me a shaky grin. "Do you know how long it's been since I came with a customer? Maybe I *should* give you a refund."
I grinned back. "My pleasure, Ma'm. But don't worry - you'll earn it all by morning."
"Give me a moment to recover, and I'll start." By now, I was rock-hard once again. This time, after rolling the condom into place, she laid back on the bed and spread her legs invitingly.
"Want to see if my pussy is as good as I claim?"
My reply left me seated to the hilt. She hadn't been bragging too much. Despite the hundreds? thousands? of cocks that had explored it, it was the tightest I'd ever experienced.
"How ... can you ... handle ... the really ... big guys?"
I asked as I thrust.
"Painfully ... sometimes ... I'm glad you're... more normal." She emphasized her point by clamping down with her vagina. I was amazed - she had been tight before, but now I could barely move.
She had a further surprise in store, though. As I began to thrust faster, her legs went up further and tightened. I could suddenly feel her heels digging into the small of my back as I pounded into her wide-open cunt. In this position, penetration was even deeper - it felt as if I was bottoming out on each stroke. I bellowed incoherently as I came.
Once again, she cleaned me carefully. After placing a couple of condoms on the bedside table, she dimmed the lights and cuddled her naked back up against me, pulling my arm over her so that my hand cupped a small breast. Through a haze of sleep, I could hear her even breathing gradually slow and mix with a few small, ladylike, snores.
Waking up in a strange hotel room with a naked woman isn't something I do too often; I was disoriented for a moment. Almost immediately, the memories of the previous night flooded back in and I relaxed. We hadn't shifted our positions much during sleep; my hand was still cupping her breast. I idly ran my thumb across her nipple, enjoying the sensation.
From the position of the sun on the wall, it was already midmorning. Reluctantly, I shook her awake. She came awake more gradually than I had, but didn't show any signs of confusion. No doubt, she was used to waking up in this sort of circumstance.
Once she was fully awake, she slid out of bed and stretched arms up, chest out, legs taut - before heading into the bathroom.
I admired the motion of her bare ass as she walked away. Returning from my own visit, I found her still nude, lounging on the bed. She gave a half-pleased, half mocking smile as she saw my cock beginning to respond.
"Want your money's worth, don't you, Dave?"
"Wouldn't you be worried if I didn't? Think of it as ...job security."
She gave a short laugh. "Maybe you're right. Looks like I'm *real* secure right now, doesn't it?"
This time, after rolling the condom in place, she pushed me on my back. Once I was down, she swung a leg over me and lowered herself onto my waiting cock.
Astride me, she could control the tempo. Rather than urgent, frenzied pace of the night before, she took it slowly, easily. Perhaps because of this, the feeling was different; the mood was relaxed, friendly, almost tender. Judging by her gentle smile, she found the act at least mildly pleasant; she almost purred when I began to gently stroke her sides and back. As my orgasm slowly built, I allowed myself the hope that she liked me, not just my money. Perhaps if we had met under different circumstances we might have dated . . .
I pulled myself back from that. However nice, she was here because I had paid her money; her trim body and exquisite cunt were for rent, and I musn't let myself forget it.
("But I still like her.") I told myself. ("And I can treat her nicely while she's here.")
This time, when I came, it was as unhurried and easy as the act that had produced it. I held her on my chest long after I had finished, savoring the contact. I would have loved to hold her there all day. All too soon, though, she slid off.
Rather than wait for her to return, I followed her into the bathroom and disposed of the condom myself. I didn't protest, though, when she insisted on helping me clean up.
"Feel like breakfast?" I asked. "I can call room service."
"Not afraid of starting gossip? They'll *know* I don't belong here."
"Screw that. Anyway, I probably won't be back here for a while."
"You sold me. Too bad, though. I was hoping you'd be a regular."
I did my best to conceal the pleasure I felt at her last remark. ("Down, boy. She's probably a wonderful actress. Even if I do hope she meant it.")
After I called our order in, I retrieved my wallet from under the mattress and pulled my pants on; after all, I needed to open the door and tip the waiter. She watched me with amusement for a moment, then slid back into bed, pulling up the covers to her chin. I raised an eyebrow quizzically.
She gave me a devilish look. "Since you don't mind gossip, I want breakfast in bed. If you're not afraid I'll shock the waiter, that is."
"Be my guest."
Breakfast arrived on a trolley pushed by a boy just a year or two out of high school. After his first rapid glance at my companion, he did a remarkable job of pretending all was normal, blandly rolling the trolley to the side of the bed, setting out the food, and positioning Nita's bed tray. It was only when she sat up to eat that his self-possession cracked; she seemingly took no notice when the covers slid down to her waist. He absently accepted his tip without checking the amount and backed through the door.
"That was uncalled for." I had a hard time not laughing.
"Well you *did* say 'Be my guest'." It sounded as if she was suppressing a giggle. "The poor boy acted as if he'd never seen tits before."
"None like yours, Nita. None like yours. Now eat your breakfast."
She pulled her clothes back on while I buckled up my suitcase. In the bright sunlight streaming in from the windows, they were even more revealing than they had been the night before. Her skirt ended well above the knee, and the dark outlines of her nipples could easily be seen through the thin white tube top. "Well, Dave? Was I worth the money?" Her voice was challenging again.
"Actually, you've earned a bonus."
I pulled four $20 bills from my wallet and handed them to her.
Her gaze softened.
"Do you want me to call you a cab? I'll give you cab fare - or I can drop you off if you'd like."
"You're checking out? You can drop me off."
The waiter must have told his story; I saw several uniformed heads bob out of the door leading to the restaurant as I was settling up, while the clerk pointedly ignored Nita's presence. Her face wore a mocking smile; if anything, she appeared to enjoy the whispers.
Contrary to what you'd expect, she lived in a nice house in the suburbs. For the first time since I'd picked her up, she showed signs of uncertainty.
"Could I offer you some coffee, or something?" Her voice sounded almost shy, as if she was unsure that I would accept. Her eyes warmed when I nodded.
Once inside, she carefully closed and latched the door before turning to me. I met her halfway.
For several minutes, we embraced in silence.
"Worth a bonus, was I?"
"Nita, you've got the talent to be a $1000 a night call girl, not a street whore."
"Maybe I'll be that *next* time. I had to turn down six guys before you showed up. Come on and help me change - it's almost time for us to go pick up the kids."