A Fine Profession (The Chambermaid's Tales Part One) (22 page)

“
Make sure it's demure. I get very jealous of other men's stares. I don't know what I might do to punish you if you can't keep these curves in check.”

I raised my
brow, kissed his nose, and told him he had better lick me clean before he went. I still had a full day's work to get through without thoughts of him dribbling down my thighs all day. He dined on my juices while I was tied up against the coat hooks of the door; his shirt fastening my wrists, my feet on the desk chair backrest as I was almost suspended, splayed, in midair. He was sat on the chair right beneath me, holding my pussy lips wide open. The thought of an audience listening to us behind the door made it even more intense. He must have quickly realised I was an exhibitionist. Above all else, that got me off. I had experienced plenty of scenarios at the Lodge ‒ that I knew my own preferences very well. Domination came second to my lust for the thought of almost getting caught.

I knew for certain I was dangerously attracted to Noah. He was tall and strong, frisky and pleasingly well-endowed. His was not the biggest cock I'd had, though it seemed to me the sheer manner of our encounters were what made me cum. This was new. I did not know what he did for a living nor did I really care. I did not know what his home life was like, whether he was honest, or if his marriage really was over. I really did not know. Though in my office that day, I did notice he no longer wore his wedding ring. But that was easily dispensed with for the sake of getting someone in the sack. I bore no illusions.

I spent that whole day knowing he was in town
, possibly only yards away from me. It set me right on edge. I wondered whether he may spring himself on me once more, and fuck me on a whim again. I imagined him sitting in an office not far away, in the city centre, rubbing his cock in his trousers underneath the desk at the thought of me being in the vicinity. I was on edge that entire shift and felt exhausted by the time 10 o'clock rolled around. The flashbacks and the not knowing what I was getting myself into were driving me mad.

In my office, I rang him up.

“Hello?” he answered.

“
It's me. Shall we meet in the lobby in ten minutes? I just need to get into something more comfortable.”

“
Can't wait,” he said, and put the phone down.

I had been out at
dinnertime and gone to a department store I knew was keeping late hours. I added one hundred of my own pounds to Alex's and told myself to just blow it. I needed shoes too, plus some underwear; what I was wearing probably stunk to high hell. In my office, I used a pack of baby wipes to clean my armpits, pussy, ass, face and neck. I'm sure staff I was working with that day might have got a whiff of me and wondered what it all was. I acted completely normal, however.

Clean and fresh, I pulled on a simple black Wonderbra and matching lace hipster panties. No suspender
s or tights: I would brave the elements. The choice of underwear was quite intentional. After he told me not to buy anything revealing, I decided to up the ante. I knew his warning was indeed an incitement. I had purchased a figure-hugging, black lace dress that was long on the sleeves but short of the skirt. The slip underneath barely covered my chest and a lot of cleavage would be on show beneath the lace. It was the most daring thing I had ever worn outside the Lodge and somehow it had been one of the first things I had seen in the shop. It was luck, I told myself. I also bought a pair of brogue black ankle boots with mock-mahogany skyscraper heels. I slicked my hair back with water, bringing it to the side with a flick and tucking it behind my ears. I painted my lips red, my eyes black, and left the rest of myself natural. I pulled my tits up as high as I could in the bra and jiggled them, ensuring they would maintain. In the small mirror of my office, I was pleased by what stared back at me. I would drive him mad all evening and that is exactly what I intended. The only purpose of my clothing was his provocation and this was something I could deal with.

I locked the office door, tucking the keys into my little black purse, and
walked down the corridor. I felt sexier than I had ever done before. And it wasn't because I knew I looked good. It was because I knew I was desired by someone whom I desired in return. It was because I felt comfortable and relaxed with him. It was because I wanted to look nice for him. He was the tonic that tipped me over the edge and gave me the confidence. I reached the lobby and marched across confidently, seeing him in a chair. He leapt up at my sight and walked in my direction, joining me at my side as I swept toward the revolving doors. Jaws dropped on the reception desk, heads were turned, and I grinned, feeling a little warmth of Alex's proud smile shine down on me.

“
Charlotte,” he greeted me, in his luxurious voice.

“
Big cock,” I called him. He chuckled.

Noah's hand rested at the base of my back as we exited and there was no greater feeling than being admired by a man I really fancied.

We reached the outside, walked a little down the street away from the hotel, and he pulled me in a doorway. He wore fitted dark-blue jeans and a blue paisley shirt, plus a light-brown suit jacket. His own hair slicked back, and his throat fresh and shaven, he was intoxicating. He pulled my waist and drew me toward him, closing one large hand around my neck. The look in his eye was one of fierce desire. He may have contemplated taking me right back to his room.

He lightly nipped
my bottom lip, eyeing me closely. My stomach hurtled around my abdomen. My being came alive with him nearby. I could not see straight. He made me dizzy. I knew where I wanted him to really chew me and I felt an urge to put my mouth around his cock.

“
Everyone was looking at you,” he groaned.

“
This does not please you?” I said, looking down at my dress.

He
grabbed my waist tighter, narrowing his eyes at the sight of my self-confidence.

“
What food do you like?” he asked.

“
At least slightly palatable,” I mocked, rubbing my knee against the inside of his thigh. “I really don't mind.”

“
I'm glad you're not fussy. I already booked us into 4,550. That okay?”

“
Fine, but you know the waiters…”

“
Exactly why I asked for you to dress demurely, sweetie,” he revealed.

“
Protective, are we?” I asked.

“
Nope. Just territorial.”

He swirled me around to push me against the door.
I gasped, delighted by his dominance. He was one of the few men not put off by my tough exterior. He thumbed my throat and rested the other hand on my waist. He kissed me hungrily and I gave as good as I got. We were rampant for one another. A vivid image flashed through my mind of him fucking me against a wall with all our clothes still on except his trousers dropped and my knickers pulled to the side. It would be sensational.

I gasped for air after his kisses ceased
, opening my eyes to see him waiting for me. I wanted to tell him he was a sensational kisser, but the lady in me wanted to hold something back.

He took my hand and sent
a butterfly through my stomach when he smiled. A minute later, the restaurant was in our sights as we prepared to cross the road. He held my hand, still, and turned to me. Against the night sky and the traffic lights, two lanes of cars and the throngs of nightlife, he drew my full gaze to him. His eyes were lively and pious, his mouth full and his hair so luxurious and smooth. His physique was twice the size of my own and yet in my heels I reached his mouth easily.

He
murmured, with his breath mixing with mine, “I've never known anyone so fuckable.”

And that was apparently the revelation of the night.
He wrapped his arm around me instead and rested the tips of his fingers at the swell of my buttock. Cradled under his shoulder, I fit so snugly against him, and felt that whatever our connection, it was becoming undeniable.

Inside the plush Indian
restaurant, he was as territorial as was possible. He wrapped himself around me as we sat in the dark, soporific lounge having pre-dinner drinks. His was a scotch, mine a G and T. I crossed my leg in his direction and he stroked my bare knee.

He whispered in my ear,
“Aren't you cold?”

I shook my head and kissed him, tasting the hot, woody liquor on his lips.

“I need to stay fresh for later,” I murmured. His eyes grew wide.

He
kissed my neck and whispered, “You wore that kind of bra to taunt me, didn't you? I know the brand. Look at them. They're magnificent. Fuck, they are glorious.”

He must have been looking right down my front.
He shifted in the large armchair and the leather squeaked.

“
I chose the best thing for the job. It's difficult to find a good bra these days, especially for a double F cup.”

His head drew back slowly and his face froze in delirious joy. I nodded.

“Next time, I buy the underwear,” he chuckled, and kissed my shoulder through the lace. “Now that I know your size.”

“
If the man's got good taste, maybe he's worth something after all,” I goaded him, nonchalantly watching the gawping waiters.

H
e crossed his own leg in my direction and the sound of the denim shifting seemed somehow louder than all the chattering and clanking in the background. I saw he was hiding a bit of a bulge. The thought of his underwear and how I might get beneath it was distracting. I looked at the carpet, the lights, the bar, other customers, anything to take my mind off his crotch. He was hanging off my body, obviously desperate to jump it. Anyone might have been able to tell.

“
I only want one thing between your painted lips later,” he said, and I was seized by a flood of warmth in my belly.

I whispered in his ear
in a dulcet tone, “You do have a lovely pink cock. I have the rouge in my purse. We can use it later if you like. To defile that pinkness.”

“
Why are we here?” he asked, annoyed, “we're wasting time!”

“
We need sustenance for later,” I assured him, “plus, we've yet to try foreplay.”

“
I'm beginning to realise why,” he choked, shifting his crotch a little. The jacket was a necessity, I realised, as he brought it over his jeans.

“
I'm glad I wore more than a thong, otherwise this seat would be drenched,” I muttered, trying to speak through pursed lips.

Everyone was staring at the hot couple almost making love with their eyes and
their words. I felt they were trying to read my lips. I looked down at my lap and smiled coyly. But out of nowhere, the adrenalin left me and I felt daunted, imagining the eyes and the whispers. My face must have darkened and he noticed.

“
Please don't do that. Don't,” he demanded, murmuring right in my ear. His warm breath brought me back, instantly reassuring me. He teased his nose through my hair and told me with hot whispers, “I recognise that look. But trust me, you're the most beautiful woman in this city.”

“
It's not what you think, Noah…” I said, his name poetry on my lips. I loved his name. I knew he loved me saying it.

“
What is it then?” he asked, offering me infinite comfort with his soft stare.

“
It's a long story, I really wouldn't know where to start,” I explained.

Truthfully,
I simply felt that with that compulsive chemistry between us and an obvious affinity of sorts, we shouldn't have been thinking about rushing a nice meal together to spend precious minutes in bed. That made me nervous. I wondered whether it was too late to ask for more from him after the way we had started off, not to mention my nocturnal habits before we met…

“
Charlotte, I'm a little older than you, yes? We both know that. So take it from me… in my experience, just go with the flow. Life is too short. If we analyse this, we'll ruin it. Trust me. Let's just have fun. It couldn't be any simpler than that.”

The part of me that once believed this with such ferocity was now being peeled away. That I had bought a dress for this man and agreed to eat out w
ith him were huge leaps for me, but obviously, he was totally unaware of this. I had forgotten how easily I could betray myself sometimes.

“
Okay, I agree. I do, really, it's just… you know.”

He placed his drink down and picked up my hand, turning it over to trace my palm with his fin
gertip. He stared at the scars. Hence the long sleeves. He drew my wrist up and kissed the contusions, briefly, before covering me up again. He assessed my response but before anything else could be said, we were called to our table.

The food was delicious and miraculous, arriving course after course, so we had not much time in between to talk. We were both ravenous and scoffed like pigs at the trough, shovelling our food down to get the hell out of there. In between telling him about all the weird and wonderful things that went on in hotels, he held my palm and drew lustful phrases with his fingertip.
Big lips. Big tits. Suck me. Dip me. Cum. Cock. I'm hard. I can smell your pussy. Hot bitch.
One of the things he drew was
piss on me
. This sparked an idea and so, in my guile, I went to the bathroom, squatted over the well-used bog, and mopped my pussy dry with a wad of paper. That same paper I pressed into his hand as I came back to the table and kissed his cheek before sitting back down. He tucked it into his pocket quickly but some minutes later, after everyone went back to their own meals following my little strut between the tables, he took out his tissue and said to me, “Darling, this is very good stuff, but my nose is flowing!”

He made a complete show of it, blowing and breathing into the wad deeply. I stared at him over my glass of Indian lager, animatedly eyeing him. My foot had
been creeping up toward his cock all night, beneath the tablecloth. It was rock solid most of the time. I felt sure my nipples were so hard that they were poking their shape out of my dress, even through the padded Wonderbra. In the loo, the paper had absorbed a lot of pussy juices that had slaked my crotch and no doubt my pheromones had just added another kick to his arousal as he inhaled those and the molecules of urine. I took his palm and ran my dainty finger around it, slowly communicating:
go wank off and bring me a souvenir.