Jeanette: Philandering the Philanderer

 It was an awkward feeling to hear his voice on the other line. Hundreds of thoughts raced through my mind justifying my reasoning in making this call. I could hear his hurried breathing as he uttered, "Hello," it sounded like he was rushing to answer the phone. His words popped out mechanically, like he meant to say something else, but habitually said hello instead. He quickly calmed his breathing and redirected his phrase, " Devon McKalin," I sat captivated by the sound of his voice. It was tantalizingly sweet like chocolate, sending a stimulating surge through my body. He said his name so serenely. What a beautiful name, he must be a beautiful man; of course he is beautiful, he has to be to do what he does.

My mind was completely constipated; I could push no words out. "Hello," he repeated. My lips froze and my hands began to shake. Instinctively I began to hang up the phone and then he said, "Hey I know that you probably are feeling pretty scared, or embarrassed, and that’s alright. We can take this as slow as you need to go to stay in your comfort zone. Are you still on the line?

 

He paused and listened. I husked my breathing to make it apparent that I was still on the phone. “If your still on the line then let me handle the talking to start and you can chime in when you feel comfortable, alright sweetie." He paused. With the receiver pressed firmly against my ear I listened. "Well alright then, as you know my name is Devon McKalin, I assume that you would like to have a session with me. I don’t publicly advertise so I’m sure that you got my card from a fulfilled customer who assured you of how courteous, respectful, and endearing I am." He paused, with no answer he proceeded. "I would love to set up an appointment with you, sort of like a meet and greet to make sure you approve of the merchandise and to go over some other details. We could either start then or set up an appointment for a future engagement. I’m available this evening around ten will that be okay?" He paused. My mouth opened and with all the force I could muster up within my body, I heaved out the word, "Yes."

"Great then I will see you at ten, goodbye till then." He paused for a reply, and then hung up the phone. I sat speechless. I just made a date with a male escort. Then it occurred to me; how was he going to meet me if he did not know my name or where I lived. I reached for the phone again, and then stopped. Maybe this is a good thing. Maybe this meeting was not meant for me. Do you really want this Jean, is this what is has come to? I stared at the phone, pondering my decision. Then I picked up the receiver and dialed slowly, pushing every number down firmly; reassuring myself with each click that it was okay to do this. Relax Jean, relax, obviously I not the only woman in the world who’s done this. The receiver buzzed, then silence. I mean he said himself he had other customer; he probably has plenty of customers. The receiver buzzed again, then silence. Oh My God, hang up Jean, just hang up hang up now while you still can hang . . . the he spoke. "Hey baby, I was scared you were not going to call back." He paused, but this time it was a long pause. He was waiting for me to say something.

"You a, you forgot to a, I did not give my a, you need my address."

"I’d rather have your name, love."

"Umm my name is, umm Charlotte."

"Okay Charlotte, would you like to meet tonight?" He paused, silence.

"We don’t have to meet tonight, we can meet another night." He paused, silence. "Maybe we should . . ."

"1243 E. Handler St., do you know where that is?"

"Yes, Charlotte I do, baby do you want me to come tonight say around ten? Say you do."

"Yes. I do."

"Well, then I will see you later then, love, goodbye."

"Goodbye."

All I could do was sit there. I did it. I was going to pay someone to have sex with me. I was going to pay a man to have sex with me because no other man would. Am I really this pitiable? Am I really this lonely? Overcome with sudden despair I ponder the most important question of all; the only question a true warm-blooded woman could possible ponder at a moment like this. What was I going to wear?

***

I sat on the couch. All that was left for me to do was waiting, thinking and waiting. Before me on the coffee table were a delectable display of crackers, cheese, and wine. I lit some candles and burned some sandalwood incense. The lights were dimmed and when all was nice and quiet you could hear the soothing whispers of the late great Etta James. I was ready, ready to be touched, to be held, to be caressed, and kissed, at last. It didn’t have to be real to him, as long as it felt real to me. Would it be wrong to ask him to tell me he loves me? Is that an unusual request? I mean if I am paying him to make me happy; well, I would really like to get my moneys worth.

 

 

"Are you okay, love?" I heard him whisper, his lips gently tracing a small circle around my ear. I could feel the warmth of his body as he held me in his arms. The tips of my toes were the only part of me that was sustaining any weight. I was completely and whole heartedly in his arms, and he wanted me there. He didn’t push me away or reposition me somewhere else. He just stood there holding me, whispering gently in my ear.

　

"Charlotte, are you okay?"

I raised my head to his face and was stunned; I had never been so close to anything this strikingly beautiful before. He smiled, his lips centimeters from mine. Dumbfounded, my lips parted to speak, but my throat was so dry and horse, that all I could do was swallow massive gulps of air, and pray for sound. In a whirlwind of movement, he pulled me closer, leaned forward, and graced me with a kiss that made the heavens move. His lips were still intertwining with mine; when he wrapped his hand around my neck, his fingers caressing the nape and thumb lifting my chin in syncope with his. All I wanted to do was stay in this moment for the rest of my life. My arms wrapped around his body reflexively. I squeezed him close to me, fearful of his release. Then all to fast he pulled free from me. All the hope and happiness, that had so suddenly emerged, descended back into the deep, dark nether region of my soul.

"Why hello Ms. Charlotte," he said starring deep into my eyes. "I’ve been waiting all evening to meet you. You look wonderful tonight, may I come in?" I stared blankly at his shirt collar, trying to recover from the fervor of the moment. Devon strutted past me, his head high with confidence. He walked towards the center of the living room.

"Wow Char, this is beautiful. Did you design this or did someone set it up for you?" He spun in a circle admiring the room. He raised his hands to his shirt collar loosening it a bit then dusted back his jacket to rest his hands on his hips.

"Char, can I call you Char?" He knew better than to wait for an answer. He just continued on with his conversation. "Nice, I see you prepared some hors d’oeuvres, maybe we should sit down and have a drink?"

I remained motionless; an overabundance of sensations flustered me. Slowly, I walked towards the couch. Devon had seated himself, and was patting the seat cushion beside him, motioning me to sit down as if I was a child. He poured a glass of wine, and then reached out his hand to me. I took it and let him guide me to my seat. Seated with my hand still in his, he handed me my glass and poured another.

"So I see you’re a little uncomfortable, tell me what can I do to put you more at ease?" Spoken like a true gigolo. He gave my hand a little squeeze than smiled. I gulped down my glass of wine and motioned to him for a refill. He used his free hand and poured the glass, then slickly and simultaneously released my hand, resting his hand on my thigh, and presented me with the glass. I reached for the glass, tingling from his touch. I sucked down the new glass, and motioned for another. Entertained, he fulfilled his bartender duties, and within minutes the bottle was empty.

I downed a whole bottle of Chardonnay and I was feeling brave. Taking a deep breath, I turned to Devon searching for the perfect thing to say to enhance the moment. I leaned into him, licked my lips, shut my eyes, and whispered the first thing that came to mind in his ear.

"There’s another bottle of wine in the kitchen, do you want to go get it?"

Devon looked at me shocked and delighted. For the first time in half an hour I had finally spoken.

"Sure," he said, "If that is what you want."

"Yes, it is what I want."

He stood up, the tips of his fingers gliding down my thigh, and across my knee.

"Where is the kitchen?"

"It’s down that hall to the left," I said pointing to the front door. His eyes followed my finger and then he started to chuckle. "I mean that left." He chuckled again, and leaned down towards my face. Another kiss I thought. Both hands gripped the seat cushion. I closed my eyes, raised my head, and pursed my lips. I could feel the warmth of his lips, as they bypassed mine, and landed on my forehead.

"You’re beautiful, "He said dashing away to the kitchen. I picked up my empty glass, and sucked on the remnants of wine. Sighing, I awaited his arrival.

"I found it," he said, returning with a fresh bottle. "You ready for another?" He picked up my glass, filled it to the brim, and passed it back to me.

"So Char, let’s talk." The tip of his tongue slid between his thick, full lips, moistening them and me. "Tell me, what is it that you want?"

I gulped down my glass, and beckoned him for more.

"I don’t know."

"Why did you call me?"

"Because," I stammered, "I thought that, well, I thought that you . . ." Deep breathes Jean, deep breathes. "I’m lonely, and I want a companion."

"And what do you want this companion to do for you, Char?” He question, the flowing blue-green sea that encompassed his eyes’ iris, enchanted me, willing me to speak the commands so that he could obey.

　

"Unum . . .“ I swallowed hard and tried to think of a inviting answer. An answer that could compare to the sensations that were lingering in the nether regions of my body. “I want him to . . .” Tell him that you want to romanced and seduced; better yet, tell him you want to unleash the freak that’s been hiding away, dying to rage free. No, no, no, no get porno-ish on him and tell him to f**k you hard! “. . .spend time with me. . . Because I, Umm I get lonely a lot. . .” Whaaaat? “ . . .and I just wanted someone to. . . to be here with me to. . . talk and hold me, not so much like sexually,” Oh Jeanie, you so have done it now Jean, you have managed to put-off your man-w***e! “. . . but sensually." I could feel my liquid courage setting in, and words beginning to free flow from an unknown source.

"So what exactly is your expectation, as far as this encounters?" Devon questioned a bit bewildered.

"I don’t know. I’ve never done this before, to have expectations."

"I’m sure when you conceived the notion of contacting me you had assumptions?"

"What do you mean, Devon?"

He smiled at me, his hand sliding up my thigh and into my own. His grip was strong, warm, and calming. He starred at me, reading my eyes. Chewing the corner of his lip, he searched for an answer and then said, "I think your misunderstanding what you have got yourself into."

 

"Okay, but there is a but.

“Okay? Devastation! "What’s the but?"

"Well we need to talk about price."

"What your price?

"What your deal?

"I don’t know. What’s the average pay rate?"

"Well there is no average pay rate for this, yet. This is your idea, what’s your budget for the project."

"I don’t . . . umm, what do you normally charge?

"$1,000, a engagement."

"Goddamitt, what the hell do you do for $1,000 dollars a night?"

"Everything!" Devon whispered, then licked his lips, swirled, sipped, and starred.

"So what would this cost me?"

"Well, taking into consideration all the potential clients that I would be passing up to spend extensive amounts of time with you. But, also taking into account the actual lack of physical work I will have to do. I would be willing to accept, $2000 an engagement to start; an additional $1,000 for any sexual activities. Your responsible for any monetary transaction that may occur do to events, mileage or traveling, hotel accommodations, or dining out. But, to conceal any embarrassment, I’ll pay and then bill your for it. How does that sound? I mean well have to test the water before I can solidify a price, but I think that $2000 is reasonable." He picked up his glass, swirled, sipped, and starred. My eyes meet his.

The price was beyond unreasonable. However, the kiss, that amazing mind shattering kiss, came to mind. His hand was still clutching mine, and his lips looked so succulent and moist. Reasonable or not, how can I say no? What other options did I have?

"Okay."

"Well okay then, were set. Will we be starting tonight, I mean physically?" Every muscle in my body tightened, and every hair stood on end. I could think of no better thing to do than to retire to my bedroom, but was I ready tonight? Was I really ready for tonight?

"No, not tonight, not now, I mean do you really want to do that now?"

"Of course, it’s what I do. I’m good at it, trust me! He crooned confidently."

"Yes, I really, really do, but not tonight. I think I’ve had all the excitement that I can take for tonight."

"Right, maybe I should head home then, cause it’s getting late."

"Yeah, I have to get up early and go to work too."

Devon stood up and released my hand. "Oh hold on!" I ran upstairs to the bedroom, and grabbed my purse. I re-emerged flustered. He stood before the front door, hands on hips, smiling. I fumbled through my purse for my wallet. I didn’t notice how swiftly Devon managed to swoop in front of me, and in his whirlwind movements, put his arm around me. With no warning, his lips were intertwining with mine again. I was in bliss; he leaned into me with his chest, like a contortionist my body curved into his. His hands slither down my back, and came to rest in the pocket of flesh between my back and my a*s.

My purse fell to the floor spewing out it’s contents. His knee parted my legs, lodging his leg between mine. Oh dear god, I could feel it, I could feel it, it was huge and he was pressing it against me. He spun me around, pressing my shoulders against the wall near the stairs. Sighing, I swung my arms around him. In return, his hands kneaded my a*s; he cocked his foot on the stair step, and hoisted my leg around his hip. His hands slid around my waist and up my blouse.

He broke free from our lip lock, and moaned, "Char, do you want me?" Without response he plunged his tongue back into my mouth and ran his hand up my shirt. His other hand began unbuttoning my pants. Again, he broke free repeating, "Char, do you want me?"

My heart was racing, I wanted him, badly. I was panting, and had broken into a sweat. Sucking in air, with my eyes still closed, I heard the scratch of my pants zipper, beginning to unzip. Then I felt the caress of my silk panties, as he rubbed his fingers against them. Sliding the silk between the hot, saturated swell of my p***y’s lips. I longed for his fingers to skim beneath the silk, tickle the hairs that were already on end, then plunge themselves into the puddle of juices that had collected to guide them to my pleasure point.

 

My shirt was now crumpled up underneath my chin. Still pinned against the wall I was consumed by the sordid scent of lust. I was sucking in deep breathes of this man, fragranted with pleasure releasing, hot, sexual, body pleasing lust. His began to grind me back and forth against the lump of hardness, shafting between his legs. Then with a quick arch, he pulled my head back lunging my breast forward, popping one into his mouth; cupping what couldn’t fit with his free hand, all while never skipping a beat in his grinding rhythm.

"Char,” he whispered in my ear, with his tongue moistening it’s lobe, "Do you want me?" I knew he could sense that I want him; he could feel how sodden my panties were. He could hear my chest pounding; feel the erection of my n*****s; and see the expression of pleasure on my face. He could taste desire marinating in my mouth and yearning salivating between my legs. He knew I wanted him; my body ached for him.

 

"I want you. . .“ I could feel my p***y seizing from his touch anticipating his entry. “I want you . . .” My breathing hurried and I couldn’t quell the moaning that steamed through pursed lips. “I want you . . .“ What I wouldn’t do right now to have this man penetrating some part me, I wanted to taste him, f**k him, love him. “. . .you to stop." Did I say that? “I want you to stop.“ Did I say it again? All at once he stopped. No don’t stop, I didn’t mean it. Lips still intertwined and eyes still closed; He re-zipped and buttoned my pants, straightened my blouse, and politely unwrapped my leg from around him. Lips still intertwined, he ran his hands through my hair, resting them on my checks; and slowly he pulled my face away from his. A hot horny mess, I braced myself against the wall for a moment, attempting to regain some composure.

　

　

" Uhh . . .Ummm . . .“ I fumbled, looking for something to say. Staring at him as he casually pieced himself back together, with a bit of stiffness still swelling through his pants. “How much do I owe you?" Popped out in between deep serried breathes.

"That one was on me. "He leaned forward and kissed my forehead, then opened the door. "Give me a call Charlotte, I’ll be waiting." He flashed a smile then shut the door behind him.

 

I slid down the wall and sat on the floor. The floor was littered with purse fillings, and I crouched over to pick them up. Then suddenly I had a moment of mental weakness. I don’t have to play coy, shy, or even innocent. I’m paying for his attention. I don’t have to give a damn if he’ll respect me in the morning. All I have to do is demand, and he’ll supply, it’s simple business ethics. He’s a business man, and we have a deal.

I popped up off the floor and lurched towards the door, twisting and pulling on the knob. Once open, Devon stood there before me, posted up in the doorway. One hand was raised high and resting on the frame. The other leaned into his waist, creating a dimple in his stance.

"Hi Honey, I’m home!" He bellowed before swooping me up and carrying me up stairs.

"I knew you were waiting!" I squealed delighted at this new brand of attention I was receiving.

"I knew you wanted me to." He hissed interlocking his lips with mine.

　 

Sitting there waiting, and thinking my subconscious got the better of me and my mind was plagued with every unanswerable question it could find. I couldn’t help wondering that maybe I was going about this all wrong. I shouldn’t have to try so hard. I shouldn’t have to try at all. Maybe I should not have asked him to come this evening. What if Devon was a homicidal killer and I played myself into his trap. Cross your legs Jean, don’t look like a tramp. What if he’s a pervert who plans to expose me on some internet show? Why are you crossing your legs Jean, you have to get up and open the door? What if he’s some ugly, hairy, fat, wildebeest of a man; that smells of cheap cologne and bad breathe. Did you remember to brush your teeth? Of course someone, or something is better than nothing. I mean he has to be somewhat decent, I can’t see an unattractive man in this kind of profession. You brushed your teeth, but you forgot to floss. Is he floss worthy. Should I have to floss for my man-w***e? Should I really even have to bathe? Has he bathed? Don’t call him a man w***e you’re the one who wants to screw him. Is that the door bell? Should I sit closer to the door to make sure I can hear him? Don’t be so anxious Jean. Oh No! I don’t have any condoms. Well I got to have condoms. I wonder if he has condoms. Of course he has condoms he probably has a whole menagerie of condoms.

You better go buy condoms!

****

At approximately 10:03pm, the door bell rang. It rang once, then twice, then again. Shuffling towards the resonance, the uncertainty of the moment began to unnerve me. Standing in front of the door, I could feel a panic attack surfacing as my whole body began to tremble. A quivering hand coupled the knob. Turn it Jean, Turn it. The room shrank, and the intensity of the moment was astounding.

A knock.

　

Open the door Jean, it will be alright if you just open the door.

I could feel the flick of my wrist, then the cool breeze inflowing from the porch. The door drifted open and the porch light silhouetted a divine being, a Grecian god; tall with firm muscles slightly outlined through his clothes. He stepped forward into the light displaying a gorgeous champagne and cream colored striped cotton button down shirt; paired with caramel slacks, that were cropped by a lengthy caramel jacket. I could sense the lights dimming and my breathe leaving me, the room became heavy, and then gravity took hold.

"No, I know I have to pay you to spend time with me, I just don’t want you to come here just to screw me. No! No, don’t say that, take that back, Now!!! I mean, I want that, I . . . I . . . I do want you to come here and screw me, but I want a little more than just screwing; but I mean, I’m willing to pay for more than just screwing, if it’s possible to do that, I mean." I could smell the salty waft of perspiration dressing up my brow.

Oh dear, what’s the point of having sense Jean, when you can’t make any?

A devilish smirk wiped across Devon’s face. He sat, luminous and quite for a moment. I tried to concentrate on anything in the room but him, wondering when would the silence end. "What your telling me is you want to pay me to be like a temporary boyfriend?"

"Oh no, no, no, no! Well I mean yes, sort of."

"Charlotte, it would be more cost effective if you just meet a guy, and hit it off with him; then to pay me to pretend to be your boyfriend."

"I know that, don’t you think I know that. But if it was that easy I would have done that already." I could feel my face getting hot, and my eyelids fluttering. Dear God, if there is a God; please don’t let me cry in front of my man-w***e. Please let me cling on to the tid-bits and specs left of my dignity. Devon picked up the champagne bottle to pour another drink. "No thank you, I’m good."

"No Char, this one’s for me." He poured himself a drink, swallowed it down and then poured another. Swirling the wine in the glass, he stared at me, then took a sip. He repeated this pattern in silence; staring, sipping, swirling, staring, sipping, swirling, staring sipping, swirling. "Okay."

 

"Okay?"

Elation!