Page 3 of Sexy Bad Escort

Yeah, that’s definitely feeling better. Isquirt a dollop of lotion into my hand and return it to my cum gun.“But keep talking. Tell me about this favor. Go into graphicdetail.” I’d be sweet if it involves sex.

She makes a noise that sounds like a crossbetween a growl and a sigh, and I give my sharp shooter another fewstrokes.

“I have a friend there in Chicago. Herboyfriend recently broke up with her. Bad breakup, his fault, andhe’s being a real prick about splitting up the furniture in theapartment they were renting together. Even trying to take her cat,which, by the way, she brought into the relationship.”

“Mmm-hmm.” I’m picturing Ronnie in that redthong I’m convinced she wears every damn day. I’ve choked thechicken to that image too many times to count in the past week anda half. And here’s to one more.Oh yeah…

“She has to go to an event tonight. A workfunction. And he’ll be there. Probably with some bimbo hanging onhis arm.”

My breathing is choppy as I ask, “So what’sthe favor?” I’m still holding out hope it involves sex. That willdefinitely send me over the edge at this point.

“I’d like you to go as her date. I’ll payyou for your time.”

“Fu-u-uck.” Several more jerks and I shootmy load, white streamers that pool on my abdomen. Grabbing thetowel I keep on my bedside table for exactly these occasions, Iswipe at the mess and then drop my head back to the pillows while Iexhale loudly.

“What are you doing?”

I don’t respond, mostly because I’m stilltrying to catch my breath. She’s so fucking hot in myfantasies.

“Are you—good God, tell me you aren’tmasturbating?”

“Not anymore,” I say on gusty breath.

“I can’t believe you.”

“You have something against pleasuringoneself?”

“No, of course not. It’s just—you did itwhile I was trying to talk to you.”

“That’s called phone sex. You’re good at it.Your voice is kinda low, gravelly, really—”

“I wasn’t even participating!”

“You mean you’d participate in phone sex?With me?” I’m liking the sound of this…

“Absolutely not. Can we get back to thetopic at hand, please?”

I chuckle. I can’t help it. And I canpractically hear her teeth grinding.

“Now I’m questioning my sanity in evenasking you for this favor.”

“Why? Because I like to get off on occasion?Well, honestly, it’s way more than occasionally. I’m not gonna lie.It’s—”

“My friend,” she says, that coolness back inher voice that should probably put me in my place.

“Your friend,” I say solemnly, because nowthat my brain is functioning, I’m curious as to why my bestfriend’s husband’s sister would call me. Usually, when she wants meto do odd jobs like help plan her brothers’ weddings or mow herparents’ yard as a Father’s Day gift, she talks to me throughErin.

“So will you be my friend’s date tonight?I’ll make it worth your while.”

She already has. “Tell me more.”

***

The friend is hot. Her hair’s this lavendercolor, which isn’t something I’m usually into, but it works forher. With her pale skin tone and that light blue dress she’swearing, itreallyworks, actually. And those stilettoscould make me forget my fantasy of Ronnie in a red thongtonight.

The friend is also a hot mess.

“Thanks again for agreeing to be my datetonight,” she says when I take her hand and tuck it into the crookof my elbow before we head into the building where this workfunction is happening. Her name is Yvonne, and she’s a manager at asoftware development company. Apparently, it’s supposed to beannounced tonight that the stock is splitting, making most of thepeople in that room awfully damn rich. Oh yeah, and Yvonne is aboutto become president, as the current guy is retiring.

---