Page 5 of XX Love Affair

Helena slinked off the couch, but she didn’t crawl on the floor or linger too much in the small space between their seats. Before Delia could tell her to back off, Helena placed her knee on the arm of Delia’s chair and gripped the headrest with a strong, sensual hand. She somehow controlled her mane of curls, as if she were used to handling them for the majority of her life.

“I can think of an excellent way for you to take care of yourself tonight.”

Delia crossed her arms, shielding herself from this woman’s approach. “Is that so?”

“Sure. Treat yourself to my pussy in your face.”

The come-on was so strong that Delia was more than off-balance – she was intrigued, and that was the best position for Helena to have her in if sex was all she wanted.

Delia surreptitiously checked out the goods. It was one thing for Helena to be young, thin, and outgoing. Quite another for her to have the toned muscles of a part-time athlete who worked out at the gym and a mole right at the base of her throat, drawing the eye from her round lips to the sheer dress shielding her breasts from Delia’s grasp. Can definitely see those nipples now. They were surprisingly prominent. Deliciously prominent.

“So we’re clear,” Delia said before her plans ran away from her, “you’re not an escort. And this isn’t a kink with your boyfriend, girlfriend, whoever. Because I don’t play that.”

“No, Ms. Delia. I’m all yours tonight.” Helena leaned down, whispering into Delia’s ear. “For free.”

There was still probably a catch but fuck it if Delia cared anymore.

Chapter 2

Helena wasn’t often so pleased with herself, but this was the fastest she had seduced someone since she met Irene Feist and her husband.

That means I’m getting good at this. For the past year, she had been on a mission. The immature teenager still lurking within her called it “putting the ‘gap’ in ‘gap year.’” With gap being a certain body part located between her athletic thighs.

In the beginning, she relied on being young and attractive to get what she wanted, but she knew it wouldn’t last. Even if she weren’t as discerning as she should be, she still had to up her seduction game if she wanted to hit the numbers she envisioned when she set on sowing her wild oats before returning to “the real world.” Then I met Irene and Josh… All right, so numbers hadn’t meant much anymore. On the contrary, being the long-term sugar baby of a wealthy couple where the wife pulled at the strings was the way to go. Stability. That was the word. Plus, she knew them well enough to know they took certain health matters seriously. Like she should, if she weren’t a dumbass teenager.

She didn’t want people to know she was a dumbass teenager still, right?

Delia didn’t guess it, or if she did, age didn’t mean anything to her. As long as I’m legal in the eye of the law, that’s all people care about. She needed a fake ID from Oregon to get into these 21+ clubs, but that was only for the next two years. Besides, she was returning to college that upcoming fall term. She could cut up her ID as soon as she stepped foot on Washingtonian soil again.

Which hopefully wouldn’t be for another six months. Until then, Helena Pierce was content to exchange her body for hotel rooms, dinners, and flights to exotic locations.

And for my ego. Was she on the prowl in New England’s premier spot that night? Of course. She wouldn’t mind spending the next one to six months being the kept woman of one person. Man, woman, doesn’t matter to me. It was the same thrill either way. She had long learned that women could be as cruel as the men her mother always warned her about.

Most of them couldn’t get her pregnant, though, so that was a bonus to consider.

Delia smelled of money. She also wasn’t bad to look at, although she was shorter than Helena and her hair was a garish bronze that was clearly out of a bottle. Or a salon, if Delia was made of as much money as Helena guessed. Didn’t matter. She dressed sharply in an ivory pantsuit and baby pink blouse she unbuttoned halfway down. She may have been wearing a bra, but it was difficult to tell through the white jacket and, quite frankly, Delia didn’t have a lot hidden in there. Neither did Helena, but she always liked to keep her nipples a hint of a glimpse away. Like now, as she followed Delia to a private room she reserved in the back of the club.

Helena had been in this exact one before. Two nights before, actually. Had a great time. Here was hoping she had another good time with someone lucky enough to cross her path.

Delia entered first, the sound of her high heels transitioning from the marbled cement of the club to the easy-to-clean vinyl of the private room. The low thrum of club music transitioned to a more reverent silence that allowed a happy couple to better appreciate the sounds they made.

The lights were dimmer, too. Delia had the opportunity to flip another switch that made the small room brighter, but she bypassed it in favor of pointing to the mattress in the middle of the room. Helena spoke that individual language. “You. There. Now.”

She brushed against Delia’s arm as she slowly climbed onto the plastic fitted sheet that was built for being treated like absolute trash. Bleached to death and hilariously crinkly for such a high-cost club, it had taken Helena a few months to realize that these were the free private rooms. If someone wanted silk or cotton sheets and more ambiance, they paid a higher membership fee for a separate set of VIP fuck-rooms.

This implied one of two things about Delia. She was either a pauper in a prince’s clothing, or she didn’t hook up at this place enough to warrant the higher membership tier.

Didn’t matter to Helena. Once she was on her hands and knees, her ass rising into the air for Delia’s amusement, it was less about offering herself up for sugar babydom and more about getting off.

Delia leaned against the wall. Her bronze hair was not as nature-defying in the dimly lit room. If anything, it complemented the bright colors of her outfit well. And the sparkle of her jewelry… nice. Perhaps she wasn’t a pauper in disguise, after all. Not if those rocks on her fingers and the solid gold of her chains had anything to say about it.

“Anything you want,” Helena said with the sweet voice she had cultivated for these rich strangers. She stretched forward, curling her legs into the air and rubbing her chest against the plastic sheets. They crinkled again, catching Delia’s attention. “There isn’t much I don’t like.”

“You don’t look old enough to have tried everything.”

There it was. At least half of Helena’s hookups commented on her youth. “I didn’t say I’ve tried everything. I said there isn’t much I don’t like. Which is true.” When she pushed herself back again, her ass lifted so high into the air that the short hem of her dress fell down her back. She was only wearing a thong beneath it.

“Do you think I’m a man?” Delia snorted, her attention barely on Helena’s antics. “Because the way you’re shaking that ass in the air makes me think you want it there. Well, hate to break it to you, but I prefer not to put my fingers in anyone’s ass.”

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