They Call Me Trixie: Encounter Two

I tap lightly on the door. It?s heavy and made from a wood that costs a lot. I?m not sure what kind of wood it is. I just know it?s expensive. A minute passes and then the door opens. My client is there. He?s handsome. Devilishly so. He isn?t a man who has trouble getting ladies. None of my clients do. He doesn?t have the time. His job keeps him busy. He doesn?t want to mess with the fuss of flowers, romance and three dates before he can fuck a woman. He wants to fuck without trouble. I want paid. It works out well for both of us.

?Trixie,? he says, flashing an extraordinarily white smile at me. His medium brown hair flops into his emerald green eyes. He smells like soap and aftershave. His grooming habits are top notch. He keeps his pubic hairs shaved close. I like that. It makes sucking him easier.
The shirt he?s wearing is supposed to look distressed and old. It?s brand new. I?ve been meeting with him long enough to know him well. He comes from money. Lots of it. He likes to pretend he made it on his own. We both know that?s a lie. I let him live it and he lets me live mine. He knows my name isn?t Trixie. I only call him by his given name when I have to. It?s better that way.

His entranceway smells of food.

?You cooked,? I say. I smile. He?s a great cook. He likes feeding me. Guess it makes the sex feel less wrong to him and makes him feel like I?m his girlfriend rather than a hired fuck. I refer to him as The Boyfriend because of how normal he wants our time together to seem.

He steps back. ?I did.?

I ease past him. I brush my body over his on the way. His muscles tense. He has great muscles. ?What?s on the menu??

He touches my jacket and tugs at it lightly. ?Primavera.?

My lips ease into a smile. I think about the last time he made primavera. He fucked me against the kitchen wall and the noodles crashed all over the floor. We never got to eat. We just had mindless sex for three hours instead. He?s good at lasting three hours. I should think of renaming him Mr. Three Hours in my datebook.

He shuts the door behind me. ?Maybe this time,? he says. He puts his face close to mine. ?We?ll actually get to eat some of it.?

I touch his cheek. I like the feel of it. It?s rough yet sexy, like him. ?If that?s what you want.?