Keeping Dolly in the Dark
I rolled off Jason, panting, quivering, spent. It was like that every time with him – so intense, erotic…satisfying. I could hear him breathing in the darkness beside me, could feel his leg next to mine under the Marriott comforter and clean, crisp sheets. His weight shifted as he threw his other leg over me and rested his stomach against my side and his hand on my breast, the nipple still erect and thrilled by the activity of the last 15 minutes. His mouth was very close to my ear and he gently teased with his tongue before he whispered, “Dolly, that may have been the best ever…I just love it when you’re flat on top of me and our legs are entwined. You’re an analyst, do you keep track of the quality of our fucks?”
I giggled, because there is no upside to sharing an answer to that question, yes or no. I did however, keep careful track of repeat clients, and Jason was the kinkiest, most fascinating, most unusual client I had. Except that he wasn’t kinky at all, I didn’t know a damn thing about him, and he swore he was just a normal guy. This was our tenth date, and I’d had countlessorgasms with him; he’d cum in every hole I had, on my face, back, stomach, tits and hair; we’d shared wonderful kisses for hours (I’d pay HIM for an hour of making out!); and I always left shaky, spent….and curious.
You see, I had never, ever, even once laid eyes on the man. When I say that I can “hear him breathing in the darkness beside me, could feel his leg next to mine”, that’s what I mean. I could hear, touch, taste and smell him, but I had never seen him…in ten dates spanning 25, maybe 30 hours, I had never laid eyes on the man. The lights were always off. The blackout drapes were always closed. We did it in the dark, over and over.
Kinky, huh? Except that the sex wasn’t kinky…just great. He was great in bed, but not weird. Unless you count never turning on the lights with a top-of-the-line escort, as weird.
My first contact from Jason was early in my Dolly-days, with a simple request for prescreening:
My name is Jason and my TER id is StuckinLodi. I have 15 whitelists going back to 2002 and about 40ish reviews. My P411 id is Jason-23-k-6812 and I have lost track of my Oks. I am 52, athletic build, great sense of humor and have a graduate degree and a real job.
I would like to see you, but I don’t know when. Would it be possible to prescreen me, so that if I end up with some free time in Miami, or if we find ourselves in DC or NYC at the same time, then we can meet without a lot of delay?
Let me know,
That kind of request is not unusual and not hard toaccommodate. I checked TER and P411 and I wrote him back saying I would love to see him. Easy enough, no surprises, guy was likely to be a gentleman and he certainly wasn’t a cop.
The next step was unusual and a surprise. Another e-mail three weeks later:
Saw your last three reviews and definitely want to see you. But it will be an unusual date for you, I think. Following are ladies that will vouch for me, and I would feel better if I knew you were totally comfortable with seeing me. Would you mind contacting them and getting a reference on me?
Thanks, and let me know.
Ok, so now this is weird. Not only have I already approved the guy and agreed to see him, but now he wants me to check his references and they are all top-end veteran escorts. And he hadn’t reviewed any of them. I knew Savannah and Amor, and now, frankly, my curiosity is piqued. Instead of emailing the ladies, I called them. I got three great references. He was a gentleman, paid with no negotiation and tipped well, they had all seen him multiple times with some expensive multi-hour datesand never anything weird. Jason was a complete darling. And none of the three had any idea why the second e-mail had been sent after I agreed to see him.
I emailed Jason that I had talked to his references and that we were on and to “let me know”. Maybe a little bit of nervous humor there.
I didn’t hear from him for a month, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that he was a 10 year hobbyist with the MotherLoad of excellent references, I would have written him off as a time waster. But given my checks on him, the third e-mail was not really a shock:
Dolly (finally, we’re on a first-name basis),
I saw that you will be in Manhattan on Thursday, May 15. Is a 10 pm outcall in the theatre district possible? 90 minutes or two hours, your choice. You don’t have to dress up, by the way – blue jeans and sneakers are fine. If this is possible, details to follow.
Let me know,
It was three weeks in advance and the same day that I placed my ad in New York, so that worked. I’m no fool, I took the two hours. He reconfirmed after I confirmed and we kept up a flirty correspondence for a couple of weeks. Three days before the NY trip, I get the e-mail that defined our relationship:
I have some specific requests for Thursday. If you can’t do any of this, then let me know.
First, I’ll text you the hotel and room number that morning. Then text me from the lobby of the hotel when you arrive – this is important. Then come on up and the door will be ajar.
Second, when you step into the room, the envelope will be on the floor, well within the light circle caused by the lights in the hallway. The room will be dark. The bathroom door will be closed but the bathroom light will be on. If you need the facilities, help yourself, but either way turn out the lights.
Third, remember that I said blue jeans and sneakers are fine, because it’s irrelevant what you wear. When you’re ready, join me on/in the bed. My preference is that you get comfortable and crawl in, but if you need to sit and talk, come on in and plop down and we’ll talk ‘til you’re ready. Bring anything you need (bag/toys etc) with you to the bed so it won’t be hard to find. I won’t need any toys, by the way.
Fourth, have fun. This is going to be a great night. We won’t be turning on the lights, and when it is time for you to leave, I will make it easy for you.
Let me know.
Ok, so now this IS weird, and I’ve got mixed instincts. Guy is clearly a veteran hobbyist with impeccable references, but withall modesty, most guys aren’t running to turn out the lights when I walk in the room. I’m not saying he’s weird because he doesn’t want to see me naked, but the thought crossed my mind. So I called Savannah, a friend that I completely trust, and asked. “Great guy, I’ve seen him four or five times, tips, yada, yada, yada,” she said. “In the daylight? With the lights on?” I asked. She giggled and said, “Well, yes, Dolly…always with the lights on.”
So I wrote back to Jason and told him I was looking forward to it and I would be on time.
I texted from 100 feet up the block. I received the return text and entered the medium-sized, upscale chain hotel. I didn’t wear sneakers and jeans because I still didn’t really believe we were going to follow the script. I dressed “comfortable but classy” and wore some snappy lingerie. The elevator stopped on the sixth floor and the door to room 617 was propped open by the security bar. I opened the door, picked the promised envelope up from three feet inside and closed the door behind me. It was very dark, and would have been pitch dark if it hadn’t been for the slight rectangle of light surrounding the bathroom door.
“Hi, Dolly. I’m glad you made it. Did you have a good trip over?” came a voice from around the corner.
“Good evening, Jason. It was a five minute walk – I’m staying three blocks away,” I replied.
“Use the bathroom if you wish, and it’s okay to leave that light on when you come back – with the door closed it gives off justenough light to keep us from knocking over the grapes and strawberries when we reach for them. I’m right around the corner,” he said.
I stepped into the bathroom and glanced in the envelope. I didn’t count the money, but I didn’t have to. I know what my donation looks like in benjies, and there were several more than two hours required – tipped in advance. “In for a dime, in for a dollar,” I thought and stepped out of my heels. He had left a couple of hangers behind the door so I hung my blouse and slacks, grabbed a small bag that I had put together with a couple of condoms, some lube and a couple of small toys, and stepped into the room with bra and panties on – very nice bra and panties, I might add. And I closed the bathroom door behindme.
“Reach to the left,” he said and next thing I knew, my hand was in his. “Follow me, just a few steps.” He was quiet and calm, but his voice had the unmistakable huskiness of sexual excitement. “Here’s the bed. There’s ice water, grapes and strawberries on the nightstand. Drop your bag where you wish, and join me.”
It sounded to me like he crawled between the sheets, but his voice came from my head height while I sat on the bed. We talked for a few minutes about the hobby, my real job and our dinners earlier that evening. He held my hand the whole time, very gently stroking my forearm with his other hand. After a few minutes, he asked, “Are you warm enough? Would you like to join me between the covers?” And his voice clearly slid down onto the bed.
We lay on our sides, facing each other and I draped my leg over his, his top knee sliding gently between my legs. He was already hard – very hard. I wasn’t quite ready. Sorry -- and I trust Savannah -- but this was outside my comfort zone, and Dolly Jewel has a wiiiiiiiiide comfort zone.
His lips found mine, slow, going easy. Very relaxed. “Ummmm,” he said. “That’s sweet. You ARE lovely.”
“How can you tell, Jason? It is very dark in here,” I replied.
“Night vision googles,” he murmured while subtly licking my ear.
I giggled. Ok, he’s playful. And that ear nuzzle gave me a twinge. His lips found mine again and this time I kissed him back, with just a bit more passion, but still relaxed, slow. Very nice. Like I said, in for a dime, in for a dollar. I slid my hand down his side and wrapped it around his tool and did a few calculations. Reasonable length, more than average. Circumcised. But NICE girth, a real handful. This could be fun. Now I began to relax, or at least began to get pretty interested.
His hand was on my thigh and began a gentle exploration. My thigh. My hip. My butt and the small of my back. His lips left my lips and slid down my neck to the outside of my bra and the bulge of my left breast. His hand squeezed and cupped my bra, pushing more of my breast toward his mouth.
“Great lingerie, Dolly. Really nice,” he moaned.
“Night vision goggles?” I asked.
“No…umm…I’ve been to your website….ummm,” his voice was muffled by licking, kissing and nuzzling my still-covered boob. “I’ve seen the lace you wear….and these clearly aren’t ‘tighty-whities’ from JC Penny.” His hand dropped between my legs. “May I?” with a gentle stroke between my legs outside my panties.
Ok, now I’m all in – at least with the sex. With one hand I unsnapped my bra, with the other I slipped out of my panties. “Let’s improve your access a bit,” I said and parted my legs. He was gentle and slow, and I began getting wet. Our kisses gained passion and my hand moved on his dick. As I clearly kissed back, his finger became more bold, sliding up into me, then sliding out, slowly sliding in, then out. It was very slow…he wasn’t finger-fucking me, it was really a caress, a massage of my g-spot and everything north of it. Subtle. Refined. Intimate. He pulled his lips away and slid down to my breasts, gentle, but with a couple of intermittent nibbles. In the dark, tiny flicks of light pain were electric. Kiss, caress, suck, nibble. Kiss, caress, suck, nibble. I was squirming now.
“Leave your finger inside,” I told him. “Flick….right there….” My breathing was hard and my thighs squeezed his hand.
And then that hand was gone…and as his head slid toward my shaved pussy, that finger – THE finger – was in my mouth giving me a moment to taste my own juices. And his lips didn’t waste any time…taking my clit in his mouth and sucking…nolicking now – firm but gentle strokes with his tongue…not quite a lick…more like a rhythmic slide…up and down….up and down, but tiny motions, never losing contact with my clit…but so gentle. He repositioned his body so that he was between my legs, but only slightly lost contact with my clit…then his head bobbed up and he softly said, “I take instruction well…let me know….”
“Ohmmm…we’re fine,” moaning I put my fingers through his full head of hair. He stayed the course, slow but very rhythmical until my hands pulled him tighter, pressing myself against his mouth. “Faster, Sweetie….ummm…a little faster…there….good…” Now this was harder and faster. My hips were bucking up now and my abs were tight…I could feel this from the inside of my mid-thighs all the way to my neck…my knees squeezed his chest and shoulders and I did half a sit-up and exploded. I completely stopped breathing and tensed from my toes to my ears…an amazing release.
When I breathed again, he was still between my legs, but believe it or not, I was super-sensitive all of a sudden -- not my norm, but then having my eyeballs turned inside-out by some guy in a sensory-deprivation chamber was not my norm either. “Let’s save some for later, Mr. Mysterious. I’m going to send out a search party for your dick and when we find it, well, we’ll do things that have never been done before.”
He laughed, “Dolly, I’m guessing my guy has never had ‘normal-Dolly’ done to him before – Uhh!!”
“Found it!!” I said, but he already knew that because “his guy” was already deep in my mouth a second time. I normally would have left him good access to my pussy, but he deserved a great bj here so I crawled between his legs, threw the bedcovers over my shoulders and set to work. I had to use my left hand to keep him pointed right…there are no teeth in a Dolly-blow. And he got my best…neither ball felt unloved, good rimming, a gentle finger rubbing his backdoor, and my other hand cooperating with my mouth and tongue. He shuddered and moaned as I alternated between his nutsack and licking the full length of his underside, all the while playing slowly with his ass.
I have a sixth sense about men (actually, there are a couple of hundred men out there that will tell you I have a seventh and eighth sense about men). Anyway, I could sense he wanted to blow in my mouth, and that it would be great for him. His hips weren’t moving like a guy waiting for another option, and his hand on the side of my head really wanted to pull me in.
“Wanta give me a taste, Sweetie?” I asked while my hand played polish-the-candlestick on the head of his unit.
“Ummm….yes…ummm,” was the best he could do – I think we were beyond snappy comebacks at that point. I took him then, all of him, all the way to the base and back all the way out. Again and again, with my hand cooperating. His hips raised off the bed and his thighs locked as the first spurts came. I left him in my throat for a second, then pulled slowly back and let him fuck my mouth and hand, not missing a drop and not hindering his movements at all. When he stopped, I stayed there letting him grow soft in my mouth, no licking or stroking…just a nice warm, pleasant place for “his guy” to come back down. OK, maybe a little tongue – but soft and warm.
One of his hands stroked my hair while the other one moved absentmindedly between my shoulder and upper arm. “So was that ‘normal-Dolly’ or ‘special-Dolly’?…actually, don’t answer that…I think I’ll spend a few more hours over the next few years figuring that out for myself,” he laughed.
“Time to turn on the lights?” I asked.
“Nope, not now, not ever,” he replied, and asked, “Strawberries, grapes, water?” I could hear him fiddling with the bowls on the table by the bed. His next words were garbled, “The strawberries are great.”
The rest of that night is a bit of a blur (it’s been almost two years). We ate and talked and had a really great, non-acrobatic cowgirl second cup. I was over the unease of being in the dark with him, but never really got comfortable with being in the dark, period. There was a funny moment when I was trying to find a condom in the dark and I DID knock over the grapes. All in all, we had good chemistry – as good a chemistry as passing phantoms can have, and frankly the sex was great. But the whole “dark” thing was just…ok, I’ll say it – outside my experience. And you know, there’s damn little in the sexual world that’s outside my experience.
When it came time to leave, it was simple, and intriguing...and more unusual. He followed a very sweet and slow kiss with “I’ve got to get some sleep now, Dolly. This has been amazing and I would love to do it again, soon. Maybe a trip to the Isles when we meet again? That is, if you’d like to meet again. Anyway, I’m not going to see you to the door. Shower if you wish, and I’ll be in touch, for sure. If you step on any grapes, I’ll clean them up tomorrow morning,” And he separated our bodies and fluffed his pillow, settling in for the night…in the dark.
I was being dismissed – not a usual thing for me. It’s not uncommon for me to need my Dolly skills to get guys out the door without ruining an otherwise heady mood. But Jason had clearly set the terms of our parting. I realized later that although the conversation flowed steadily during rest times, we had talked about me, sports, politics, the City and escorting. No details on him.
Oh -- the tip was 10 benjies -- $1000 even…..hmmmm….
I got a brief email the next day, thanking me for “a very stimulating evening” and subtly commending me on the blowjob. No mention of darkness, mystery, unusual appointments or a return engagement. Lots of clients make reference to another date during our time together, so that was not unusual. Honestly, I thought of Jason in passing every once in a while, but Dolly-world is a busy place, and he had slipped from my consciousness until three or four months later, when the following arrived.
I had a really fantastic time with you in New York, but somehow I believe we just scratched the surface. I have long been a believer that satisfaction grows as intimacy deepens and I hope to be able to enjoy your company often. I know you had some unease during our first encounter but with familiarity, that should lessen. Anyway, there are fantasies dancing in my head that certainly involve another date with you.
I will be in DC twice during May, both times for three days. Can you justify a trip to DC around either the 17th or the 27th? If not, I can be in Miami the first week in June.
Let me know,
Savvy businesswoman that I am, I told him I would meet him around the 17th and to “let me know” as soon as possible - not sure if he was picking up on the let-me-know bit quite yet. I chose the first date even though it was inconvenient for me…who knows, Miami was three weeks later and maybe he would be up for a twofer. Three days later, I got an email setting the date and suggesting 10 pm again. I wrote back suggesting 7 pm and he replied:
Don’t be silly, it won’t be dark in DC at 7 pm May 17th. You good for 10?
Let me know,
The intent was clear and I wasn’t at all surprised a day beforeour appointment to get the “the room will be dark” email setting up the parameters of the date. But I was intrigued. I went to TER and checked his reviews. He had not reviewed me (I would peg it at a 12, 12, but that’s just me), but had written a review (a 10, 10 of a HDH in LA) the month before. I called her in LA and asked about him. She seemed happy to chit-chat and gave him a great referral, which of course, I could have cared less about. I asked, “Just out of curiosity, he wants to see me really late – what time did you see him?”
“It was a nooner, and since we were on the 22nd floor we left the shades open so we could see the beach,” came the oh-so-interesting response.
To be honest, the second Dolly-date with Jason was off-the-charts. Frankly, we fucked each other silly. This time, I was very relaxed and we did click…like really click. About 30 minutes (and two great O’s for me) into our between-the-sheets time we were in cowgirl and I squirted.
“Ummm….natural lube, Sweetie…,” he was breathing heavy, but not as heavy as I was. I was collapsed on his chest, trying to catch my breath, when his very wet finger gently entered my ass. “I want your ass, Dolly….I think your reviews say you like to be on your stomach….”
He pulled out of me and I lay on my stomach. I could hear a drawer open on the side of the bed, and he said, “perhaps a little bottled lube, too.” Now there were two fingers in my back door…very slow fingers that obviously knew what they were doing. Slowly, he was opening me up – he had a pretty thick weapon between his legs, and although I had no doubt I could take him, I was nonetheless impressed that he was putting in the time to make sure. He hadn’t spared the lube and within a minute he had three fingers inside me, and I was squirming again. I can be an orgasm machine when I’m really being inspired, and he was pushing ALL the right buttons – and my finger was on my clit. He pulled his fingers out.
“My condoms are close Dolly, since your hand is otherwise occupied,” he said.
I wasn’t quite ready for that yet and grabbed one from my mini-bag on the floor beside the bed, flipped over and had it on him in seconds. Then I spun back onto my knees. He came to me from behind, lifted my hips, reached under me and with his clean hand guided his dick into my pussy.
He thrust deep, then pulled back and came out dripping. Now he’s breathing as hard as I am, and I’m going into spasms. “Put me in Dolly, you know what you want.” I lifted my hips slightly, reached back and slowly guided the Fat Boy where no man had gone in several days. Like I said, he was just average length, but the girth was impressive and it took me a careful minute to get comfortable.
“In and out, Babe, in and out, but slowly for a minute,” I said. Then, “ummm…you can fuck me now….Jason….ummmm….really fuck me.” He lay flat on me and did his best to follow my instructions. I pressed back into him, giving us a great rhythm, and letting myself go. To be honest, the right kind of ass-fucking is just mind-altering for me, and we were there. We were really there.
That night was also the first of many efforts on my part to learn a little about Jason and of course, to penetrate that most unusual and mysterious of boundaries – darkness. We parried a bit…hometown? – “I travel a lot, Dolly, so I have to be at home wherever I go” – career? – “just a normal business guy, providing a service to make a dime” – passions? – “sex, food, sports, rock ‘n’ roll…probably in that order”. In short, mindless small talk when the subject was him, but really fun, insightful exchanges about sports, the cities of the world, politics, me, food and everything else.
And then, the dismissal. But I had a shot left in arsenal.
“I’ll duck out in a second, Babe, but that was some amazing fucking. I get that we aren’t turning on the lights tonight, but maybe you can share with me why – is this a fetish, a fantasy come true?”
“You didn’t buy the night-vision goggles? I thought I was pretty upfront about that,” he deadpanned.
“I kissed every inch of your body tonight, Scamp, and if you have night-vision goggles, they’re implants.”
“And not the most wonderful implants in the room…but it is really an experiment to see if TER will take a ‘blank, 10’ as a rating – so far, no luck.” I could sense him smiling, baiting me. So I rolled into him, gave him a world-class-genuine-very-best-of-Dolly kiss and headed into the bathroom and then into the early morning DC darkness.
The tip was a cool grand, and the post-coital smile on my face was very real.
Smart, single women have a good bullshitometer – they can smell bullshit a hundred miles away. People in my real industry, my non-Dolly day job, have good bullshitometers – separating good information from the noise of life is how people in that world make a living. And sane, sober, professional escorts have a good bullshitometer – it keeps us sane, sober and safe. So I have a great bullshitometer.
Well, it didn’t take my best efforts to sort Jason’s explanations of his unusual approach to our time together. I did see him three weeks later in Miami – well, I didn’t SEE him, but I did spend a luscious two hours in his bed. Soft and GFE this time, but mindblowing – the guy can do great things with his mouth and that tool is in the hands of a master craftsman. He got my best shot, too. I was totally in sync with him now. As much as you can be in sync with a specter.
At my dismissal, I asked again, “when you going to explain this darkness gig, my Lover Extraordinaire?”
“Oh, Dolly. You are marvelously persistent…a trait of yours I admired earlier tonight when those perfect lips were wrapped around…well, sometimes persistence is the greatest of virtues. Hmmmm, why are the lights off….OK, honestly, Dolly, it’s because I didn’t want to take a chance on having to give you less than a 10, 10. This way I get to have sex with one of the greatest lovers in the world, but don’t have to take a chance on messing up your TER rating.”
Bullshitometer maxed out, great good-bye kiss, roll out of bed and head into the night, thousand dollar tip. It was the beginning of a very pleasant rut.
I saw Jason intermittently over the next year, five times in all, but with no consistency and no pattern. Once within a week of the previous time, and once was after an interlude of six months. I thought of him often, and dropped e-mails every few weeks. Not my normal one or two liners, but a couple of paragraphs, chatty, fun and a little inquisitive. He always responded and sometimes we would get a low-key four or five email exchange going over a few hours. But he never initiated contact unless it was to set up a Dolly-date…or as I was coming to think of it, a “Jason-date”.
The dates were fantastic, and about as varied as the one huge constraint on our meetings would allow them to be. He went to a great deal of effort to make sure there was variety – I didn’t just walk into his room, pick up an envelope, jump in his bed and roll out two hours later. We did sofas in cleared out hotel rooms, fur-lined handcuffs (that one was really good and I smiled for days), blowjobs with me on the floor in front of an imaginary mirror (or a real mirror – hell, I don’t know – it was dark!), and my favorite date of all time – really, of all time. That instruction email that warm March day in Miami read:
Same game plan, My Sweetest, but wear a dress. I love your legs. And get some rest – I’m pretty spun up to see you.
I am in room 413. It is important that you call me from the lobby. See you at 9. If there are any problems, let me know.
This was a breakthrough. His first ever wardrobe request, but it was our seventh date and I was pretty damn sure the lights would be off – and REALLY sure that he didn’t have night vision goggles. And the comment about getting some rest, well, I didn’t realize that he HADN’T been “pretty spun up” for our previous liaisons. The thought that there was something extra ina night with Jason was, well, pretty damn stimulating. I took a nap that afternoon, but not before my magic wand had its way with me.
Later, I called from the lobby and he said come on up. Door 413 was ajar, but when I opened it there was no envelop on the floor, and the door closed behind me. “Hi, Dolly,” came a voice from behind the door. His arms were around me and his tongue was in my ear before I could turn. “Don’t say anything, just relax,” as he turned me and kissed me, passionately and hungrily. He leaned me against the wall pinning my shoulders and head beneath the weight of his kisses. I dropped my Dolly-bag on the floor and my hands slid down his body, determining that he was stark naked. I reached for “his guy”, but he had other ideas.
I’m a big girl, with big girl thoughts, and when he asked me to wear a dress, I took advantage of the gorgeous Miami weather and wore fuck-me pumps, a low-key LBD…and nothing else. When his wandering hands discovered that my panties were still in my top dresser drawer at home, he laughed and said, “I DO love being with you Dolly….it is so hard to stay one step ahead of you….but it is fun trying.” He dropped to his knees and put a hand behind my ass pulling my thighs to his face. He spent minutes kissing, nibbling and licking my thighs and the curve of my hips. His free hand explored, reaching up under my dress toward my boobs, found the dress was a little tight for that, gave up and moved casually across my mound, between my legs, all the way to my ankles and back…a hand with a discover-Dolly spirit. I groaned when his hand nudged my knees apart and ran up the inside of my thigh. I jumped slightly when his thumb parted my lips and discovered wetness. And my shoulders slumped against the wall as his thumb entered me just as his tongue found my hot button.
Listen – I’ve had head. I love it and I relish it. And I’ve had a couple of fingers up my va-jay-jay…love that, too. But he lit me up that night. He knew me well enough by that time that when I started coming he was able to make it repeat in waves. I leaned against that wall for hours…seconds…days, alternately trying to catch my breath and then thrusting my clit against his tongue. I don’t know how long it was or how many times I came, but when he stood and pulled me gently from the wall, I was that wonderful mixture of weak-kneed but so in-the-moment, fully aware but slightly disembodied.
He unzipped my dress and it fell to the floor. “Step out of your shoes,” he said and then bent to sweep my legs from underneath me, lifting me and moving into the room. Then we were on the bed and there was a glass of water in my hands and two lips on my left breast…apparently no rest for the wicked. I drained the water and reached for his cock.
That night was the first time he came three times for me and the first time the dismissal wasn’t abrupt. But ultimately, it was the same routine at the end. His answer to my inevitable question was “I’m just saving electricity, Dolly. Mankind has to green up or perish.” Bullshit 10+, but cute...maybe even funny.
The envelope was on the counter in the bathroom with a three-hour donation and the usual tip in it. There was enough light to collect everything by the door. My bag was right where I dropped it coming in (we were easily to the point now where I didn’t mind using his condoms and we certainly hadn’t interrupted anything to go find my bag). I had mixed emotions leaving. This was clearly a special client, a special guy really. But I still didn’t know much about him. Sure, I pieced together a few things…hours and hours of pillow talk will do that, but he was as much of an enigma as a person as he was as a vision. I thought about that date for weeks, and wondered about Jason the man, more than ever.
Jason snapped me back to the present, back to tonight. “Well, I do remember the quality of my carnal experiences, Dolly, and that was awesome, even by our standards. It’s difficult to distinguish degrees of mind-boggling and earth-shattering, but I think this has been the sex of my life…”
I snuggled into him, putting my lips against the side of his neck. “Except, maybe, the foyer night.”
“Ahhh, the foyer. I was useless for two days after that night – I existed as a shit-eating grin walking through airport terminals. You may be right, but I’d hate to have to decide. Listen, Sweetie, I have an early morning. You better slip out.”
I snuggled closer, sliding my hand over his hip and pulling him into me. I had made up my mind that I was going to get a real answer tonight. I guess I was obsessed by this time, but the contrast between the intensity of our sexual relationship and the darkness of the rooms that relationship played out in was becoming a part of me. I wanted a real answer.
“Time for the usual question, Lover – why no lights?” I nuzzled his check and licked his ear.
“Honestly, Dolly, I think I have mommy-issues…I was breast-fed too long as a baby.” This one was really weak, actually the worst of the list.
“Ooooo…really crappy answer, Dude. That one is the worst you’ve given.” I slid on top of him, giggling, but using the strength in my legs and torso to pin him a bit. I grabbed his penis in both hands and said “All right, Buddy, give me a straight answer, or I yank this out by the root.” He started laughing and I leaned forward to kiss him. “I’m not leaving until you answer my question. I actually don’t mind being in the dark with you. I really don’t mind not knowing what you look like. I mind not knowing why. Spill it. Now. Or I’ll hurt you.”
He was quiet for a very long time. I kissed his neck and chest while I waited, and finally I rolled off and got ready to stand up.
“Whoa, where you going? I’m thinking, but I’ll answer. I haven’t told you because not telling you is the driver…the keystone. Don’t be annoyed or scared. I think you know I’m not dangerous or a stalker. Hell, you contact me five times as often as I contact you. So, no need to be scared and hopefully you’ll be amused rather than annoyed. Dolly, the reason we do this in the dark is that it was a way inside your head. Two years ago, it was obvious you were special, and I wanted to see you. The first date was a lark on my part…not a fantasy really, but a date in the dark was something that sounded fun. And your early reviews said you were great in bed, had terrific skills and were up for anything. So we did it and it WAS weird, but it was pretty great. Then your reviews started to pile up, and a sort of weird little experiment formed in my head…’this is going to be a sought-after lady’, I thought…’it would be nice to be special to her.’ And I tried the second dark date and you were clearly curious at the end of it, but relaxed and OK with me in the dark, and the sex was great. After that, it was a no-brainer. The sex was awesome, and outside the bedroom, arguably the most-sought-after escort in the country was dropping me newsy emails. Just by me being myself, just treating you like an equal in bed, but doing it in the dark, has gotten inside your head. My guess is you spend more time thinking about our dates – and probably me as a playmate – than any other 20 dates combined. That’s it, Dolly. No other motive. The dark dates allowed me to be special to a very special lady, without crossing any boundaries. We are well inside the no-strings-attached parameters, yet I bet I am very intriguing to you. Without any drama. Without breaking the code. Hope you’re not angry, but it is fun being inside your head in a special way.”
Angry, hell. I was flattered. And of course he was right. I’d spent more time thinking about Jason than any 100 dates combined. And I knew I was inside his head, too.
I leaned in and gave him a big, sloppy, delicious kiss. “Ten more dates, Sweetie. And on the tenth one – our twentieth overall, you’re coming to Miami for the weekend. We are going to be at the beach all day...we can do whatever you want to at night.....”
And I headed to the bathroom and left Jason to drift off to sleep.
Purely fictional fantasy for your reading pleasure