Artemis
There was no mirror in front of me this time but honestly, I wished that there was. I couldn’t imagine broaching that question with the staff. Now that I thought about it, there was probably a lot, and I did mean a lot of sex taking place on their premises. They already did the romantic music during the massages, how about taking it up a notch and just leaving a bowl full of condoms and lube right there. No use hiding the kinds of things that their clients got up to when they came for a visit.
I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what we looked like. Easton, even though he was the same terror that I had met several days ago had never been bad looking. Physically, the makeover had morphed him into something out of Greek mythology. It was literally only his face and hair that were different, but something else had changed during the course of our day together.
Where had he learned to do that so well? When a guy was good at going down on women, that meant a number of women had allowed him to go down on them in order for him to have practice. Money was the ultimate tool when it came to attracting beautiful women, and he had tons of it. Any old hunchback troll with a receding hairline, a beer gut, and bad breath could pull a twenty-five-year-old who looked like a Victoria’s Secret model if his net worth was high enough. I knew that Easton’s old appearance wouldn’t have been a strong deterrent once his fortune was revealed. I was still finding it hard to believe and wrap my head around. His hand joining his tongue working on me wasn’t making it any easier.
The transmission of my thoughts immediately stopped when my orgasm hit. This was what getting struck by lightning felt like. This was what it was like having your world rocked by an incredibly attractive man who just days ago, scratch that, just hours ago, you wanted to murder. I used every ounce of my being not to say anything, not to cry out, not to moan, not to let anybody on the outside know what was happening between us. That little bit of danger elevated the experience to levels of eroticism that I had forgotten even existed.
He was looking at me from between my legs when I had finally come down enough to register his presence in the room again. It was going to take some getting used to the new face but in a good way. With his face and expressions previously obscured behind his beard, I always imagined Easton with a default frown to which I had matched his lousy personality in my mind. He was grinning up at me, with a satisfied look on his face. I had had an orgasm, which was the point of having sex and which was more than many women got out of their sexual encounters anyway. Now would’ve been a perfect time to tell him that I did not want to continue. It was fun and I was thankful for his service, but we kept pushing the limits of appropriateness with our relationship and it had to stop.
“You alright there?” Easy asked me, grinning. Even if I had tried to lie in order to bruise his ego a little bit, he knew the truth.
“We really shouldn’t be doing this, you know,” I said.
“Right, now that you’ve gotten that little disclaimer out of the way, do you feel better?”
You know what? At least I tried.
The feeling of Easton’s big, thick member sliding between my lips felt a million times better than it had the first time. I lay back on the table while he stood, feeding me devastating strokes. He varied his rhythm and depth, and speed as he fucked me. All I did was my best not to scream. I wish that I didn’t have to hold back, but if I intended to return to the spa, they could not know what was going on in here.
Despite having had one explosive orgasm already, I didn’t last long. I came, bucking off of the massage table, biting my thumb between my teeth so that I didn’t vocalize too loud. I was in a daze while Easton had his orgasm. After feeling him pulse and shoot inside me, he leaned over the table, panting. Nothing happened for a few moments while he caught his breath and came down from the experience.
My regret chose this particular time to return. It was nowhere as strong as it had been right after our first time together. That was how it worked, right? I was sure that the first time a person robbed a bank, for instance, was the hardest, and then every time after that became routine. This could not become routine.
“I can’t believe this happened again,” I said.
“Oh please, you really want to play that game?” Easton asked, flopping onto the massage table beside me.
“What game?”
“The game where you pretend that this isn’t exactly what you want. That you aren’t incredibly attracted to me and it’s a fight daily just to be able to do your job peacefully.” I laughed at that, choosing not to correct him on it. In one case because he was right, in the other because he knew he was right, and I didn’t want him getting all smug about having one over on me.
“I don’t like this game very much,” I said.
“No, you love it. That’s why we keep playing.”
“It’s high time you accepted the truth, Missy.”
“And what kind of truth would that be?” I asked. I felt his hand run through my hair and I didn’t even stop him. I knew I must’ve looked like a mess, but I felt incredible.
“The fact that you are completely unable to resist me, and I can’t resist you either. We’re attracted to each other and that doesn’t seem like it’s going to change. Fighting it seems fruitless, so we might as well just go with it.” It was interesting the way his brain worked. Quite simply, one plus one made two. It was just black-and-white to him when in reality the shades of gray were infinite.
“You couldn’t possibly be suggesting that we date, Easton, are you?” I asked, sitting up. “Before you do, since this seems to be the role that I play in this relationship, I need to remind you that I’m technically on your payroll. I’m working for you and nothing could be more inappropriate.” I hopped off of the table. It wasn’t necessarily to have distance from him, rather to prove to myself that I meant what I said.
“I know that we’re working together. I didn’t forget but what does that have to do with anything?” he asked. I looked at him waiting for him to make his point because, at the moment, he wasn’t really making sense.
“What do you mean?”
“Would it really hurt if we try to see where things went? You aren’t scared about your job, are you? I mean, whatever we do together is not going to be grounds to fire you or withhold your pay.” I didn’t care about getting fired or not getting paid from this arrangement. Once again, it was also black-and-white to him. I was worried about the other risks that had nothing to do with money or my reputation at all. I could recover fairly easily and quickly from damage to the first two, but my feelings if they ever got involved would take time to recover. When I came to New York, this was the very thing that I was avoiding. Getting involved with Easy in this way was literally asking for things to become complicated. I mean how many possible ways could it play out?
I was doing well for once in my life. Focusing on my career and avoiding attachments, I had developed myself in ways that I didn’t even think were possible. That I had never bothered with before because I had never had to. I liked the way that things were, and Easton was going to make things complicated. I was going to end up right back where I had been in London, and at some point, I was going to run out of major cities to flee to.
“I really don’t have time for a relationship at the moment,” I said. That was both honest and safe. Something between Easton and I had changed today, and it had had nothing to do with the sex. Some valuable strides had been taken in actually understanding each other and it still felt very fragile and new. I didn’t want to ruin it or otherwise insult him.
“Oh no? What else are you doing?”
“I’m working, Easton. I’m building my business. At this moment, I’ve only had it for a few months. You know how important the initial stages of a business are.”