The Pleasure Trap (12 page)

“I love him,” she said with soft eyes. “I really love him, and in the morning I will gladly walk down that aisle and promise to love and to obey and to cherish him for the rest of my life.”

Now he did frown.

“But tonight . . . if your . . . uh . . .
services
are available, I would like to . . . to . . . um . . .”

“To what?” he asked.

She shifted her eyes everywhere about the room but at him as she continued to work that ring.

“What services are you talking about?” Pleasure asked.

Nina looked up to the ceiling and then down at his dick print.

Pleasure's eyes widened. “You want me to fuck you?” he asked, his words rushed together by surprise.

She nodded. “I'll pay . . . if you do that sort of thing?” she asked, ending on a note of hope that was clear in her voice.

“But you love old boy, right?” he asked.

She looked slightly offended. “I do love him. I love him so much that I have resolved myself to dealing with the fact that he is not that great in bed and not working with much in the first place.”

“And so for the rest of my life I will be faithful to my good man, but tonight I want to know what good sex feels like before I settle,” Nina said. “Just once.”

Pleasure leaned back against the door and crossed his arms over his chest. He couldn't deny she was attractive, and he liked the thickness of her frame with her hourglass shape. And these days one-night stands or drive-bys was all he was open to for sex because he still was shying away from a relationship.

“I'm just a dancer,” Pleasure admitted. He took in the curve of her breasts and the deep vee of her long-sleeved fitted sweater. Her nipples were already hard from the show or her anticipation.

“Oh,” she said in disappointment.

He pictured her breasts to have dark brown full areolas against her shortbread complexion, maybe even with the same light spray of freckles he saw across her nose and cheeks.

“Fifty . . . for a half hour,” he said, reaching out to press his knuckles up against her chin to lift her head.

Nina nodded slowly.

“Get naked,” he ordered her as he lifted the strap to his bag over his head and sat it on the floor.

Pleasure looked on as Nina reached past him to turn off the lights.

He shook his head before she could. “Lights on.”

“On?” she asked, sounding unsure.

“Most
definitely
on,” he assured her as he pulled the sweatshirt he wore with his track pants over his head.

She kicked off her heels before removing first her sweater and then her jeans to stand before him in a matching black lace set. She splayed her fingers over her small belly as if to hide it.

Pleasure walked over to her and easily picked her up by her waist as she wrapped her arms and legs around his body. Nuzzling his face against her neck, he pressed a kiss to her pounding pulse as he felt his dick harden.

Nina shivered. “I need this,” she whispered as she pressed fervent kisses along his shoulder. “You don't know how much I
need
this.”

Pleasure pressed her body down onto the bed and stood up to step out of his pants and boxers. He stroked the length of his dick as he freed a condom from his wallet and covered his inches. “Let me see your body,” he urged her, wrapping his hand around his thickness as he flung his dreads back from his face.

Nina sat up on her knees and reached behind her back to unlatch her bra to free her full heavy breasts. “I've never cheated on Carl before,” she said, nervously licking her lips as she eyed everything about his sculptured body and throbbing dick.

“Carl?”

“My fiancé,” she explained as she worked her hips back and forth to remove her panties.

Pleasure lay on the bed and pulled her down beside him. Her body was warm and soft wherever they made contact. He enjoyed the smooth feel of her skin as he massaged her breasts and lightly teased her thick hard nipples with his fingertips. Holding them higher, Pleasure circled her nipples with his tongue and then sucked them into his hot mouth with a moan.

“Yes,” she sighed, twisting his long dreads around her fingers as she pressed his head to her body and rubbed her thigh against his dick.

Pleasure gave her other taut nipple the same attention as he roughly jerked her legs open and dragged his thick middle finger between her pussy lips to the hot wetness inside. His dick got harder as he eased one finger and then another deep inside her to massage her rigid walls.

“Touch my dick,” he moaned against her soft cleavage.

She did with long, smooth movements.

Pleasure's heart thundered as he worked his hips.

“Damn, you got a big dick,” she whispered to him hotly as she arched her back and teased his tip with her thumb.

“Can you handle it?” Graham teased her swollen clit with his thumb as he continued to stroke his fingers deep inside her.

She nodded and spread her legs wider.

Pleasure eased his body between her legs and sat up on his haunches. Reaching behind each of her knees, he pulled her lower body up onto the top of his thighs and moved his hands down the length of her legs to spread them wide. Her pussy opened up before him and he bit his bottom lip as he pushed his thumb against her clit and guided his hard, thick inches inside her.

Her eyes widened. She cried out and arched her back as he filled her.

“You feel it?” he asked her, his face intense and his eyes locked on the sweet torture of her face as her walls clung to him tightly.

“Oh God yes,” she whimpered, reaching her arms out to clutch desperately at the covers.

He knew she had not lied about her fiancé's size because he felt her body's resistance to his width, and so he knew he couldn't dare give her any more than half of him. He hoped the man didn't fall in it tomorrow night when he made love to his wife on their honeymoon.

He worked his hips in a wicked clockwise motion that made his dick circle her pussy, and when the virtual clock struck twelve he rolled his eight-pack abdomen and his hips to thrust inside her.

“Yes,” she cried out even as she reached forward to press her fingertips against the tight hairs surrounding his dick as if to stop him from going too deep.

Massaging the softness of her breasts and gently rolling her nipples between his fingers, Pleasure let his head fall back until his dreads touched his lower back as he continued to stroke inside her with a strong back-and-forth motion. He felt the muscles of her pussy contract and her inner heat intensified.
She's about to cum
.

Pleasure looked down at her and her face filled with anticipation and a bit of surprise. “You ever cum before?” he asked thickly as he quickened the pace of his strokes.

She met his stare and shook her head just before she cried out and her eyes became glazed over. “Make me cum,” she begged.

He rode her harder and faster until he felt his own nut building as he stared down into her rapture-filled face. Her pussy opened up for him and he gave her a few more inches as he continued to pump away until his body became coated with a fine sheen of sweat and his heart was racing harder than horses' hooves on cement.

“I neeeeeeded thisssssssssssssss,” she wailed. “Yes. Yes. Yes. Yesssssss.”

Pleasure closed his eyes and his body tensed in the hot second just before his cum filled her. “Ah,” he cried out, fighting through the pleasure and the sensitivity of his tip to keep fucking her until he was drained and she was spent.

He let his body drop down on hers and he pressed a kiss to her shoulder as he waited to regain control over his body.

“Thank you,” she whispered, sucking his shoulder as she stroked his dreads and massaged his hard buttocks with her calf. “Thank you.”

Pleasure forced himself to roll off her and lay on his side beside her. He barely found the energy to say, “You're wel-come.”

 

 

Pleasure lifted his head from the pillow as the constant vibrating of his phone echoed in his ear. Using one strong arm, he flung away the pillows and patted his hand against the bed until he felt the cool metal of his cell. Turning over onto his back, he flipped the phone open and pressed it to his ear with his eyes still closed.

“Yeah.”

He frowned at the silence.

“Yeah,” he repeated with a snap to his voice.

Sitting up in bed, he snapped the phone closed and fought the urge to throw it across the room as he looked around, trying to recall just where the hell he was. For a few panicked seconds he wondered if he'd relapsed and lost himself during a cocaine binge.

Then he remembered he was still in the junior suite used for the bachelorette party. After a long, snore-filled nap Nina had dressed and left him there in the bed around three in the morning. He'd decided to wait until morning to make the hour-long drive back to his apartment.

With a yawn he leaned over to turn on the light over the bed. Flipping his phone open, he saw that the incessant buzzing was incoming texts and not incoming calls. Bending his legs, he rested his arms on his knees as he checked them.

“Put your schlong back in the sock and call me when you release your horny victims from the . . . Pleasuredome,” he read aloud.

Quinn.

He skipped over the next few from her, knowing each one contained a wiseass comment more hilarious than the last.

“Heard you were worth every cent,” Pleasure read slowly. “Interested in the same deal. Call me.”

Pleasure frowned.
The hell?

The only person he knew with a 973 area code was the girl who'd hired him for the bachelorette party. “Dina . . . Deborah . . . Drea . . . Drea.”

Pleasure thought of the dark-skinned, petite woman.
Not very cute in the face but she got an ass a donkey would die for.

He hadn't meant to lay The Dick down on Nina so well that she became his walking and talking advertisement. Now her best friend wanted a taste of the magic stick as well.

Pleasure smiled cockily.

The Dick had them up on the phone at four in the morning chitchatting about it.

I
did
fuck the shit out of her.

He'd sold his dick before, but then he had no say over to whom or when. And although his dick wore the miles, he'd had to split the money and lose his pride through her harsh treatment.
My pimpstress or some shit
.

This time he'd have all the control, and getting to bang beauties like Nina—or just decent chicks like Drea—with no strings attached wasn't a bad side hustle.

He texted her back:
I'LL CALL U L8TER.

Flipping the phone closed again, Pleasure cut out the lights and flopped back on the bed to finish his sleep.

Quinn

 

 

“T
wo thousand two hundred and fifty,” Pleasure counted aloud before wrapping a thin rubber band around the wad of mainly singles and five-dollar bills. Dropping that back into the small fireproof safe he kept in his apartment, he then opened his new laptop and logged onto his bank's website to check the balance in his savings and checking accounts. They totaled over six grand.

He kept his tips from dancing in the safe and the money from his whoring in the bank. Business was good and plenty. Pleasure hadn't had so much sex ever—and to be paid for it was just icing on the cake.

Pleasure climbed off the bed and crossed the floor with bare feet to look out the window and down into the parking lot where his new cherry-red two-door sports car sat. It was far from new and had well over a hundred thousand miles, but it was all his.

It felt good to give his father back his old Expedition he'd borrowed to drive, pay all his own bills, and have plenty to spoil his parents every now and then. Of course he had them thinking he worked in telemarketing, but other than that they were happy about his new life. They were just glad he visited them often, didn't ask for money, and was still clean and sober.

Looking over his broad shoulder, he eyed his sobriety calendar. He looked pensive. He hadn't marked the calendar in months. He was so busy between performing nightly at Club Trick, doing private shows, and tricking that he didn't have much time for anything. He turned his head and looked over his other broad shoulder at his easel. A fine layer of dust covered it as it sat neglected and discarded in the corner.

Pleasure turned and eyed his front door before making his way across the room to bend his body to be able to look through the peephole. He smiled at the sight of Quinn on the other side. Stepping back, Pleasure opened the door wide, but his smile faded at her heartrending expression. “What's wrong?” he asked, as she walked in wearing a beautiful bright turquoise jacket under a matching cropped silk shirt. As always, her makeup was perfectly set.

“I miss my friend,” she said, as she dropped her clutch on his unmade bed and turned on wedge heels to face him.

Pleasure shut the door and ran his strong fingers through his long, slender dreads as he leaned back against the wall. “I miss you too,” he said, only half honestly. “I've been so busy working—”

She arched a brow. “Stripping,” she inserted dryly.

“Working,” he countered.

She shrugged and walked around his apartment.

“I know it's been a few weeks since we last hung out or caught up,” Pleasure said, his deep voice seeming to echo inside the small apartment. “How's everything?”

She shrugged as she lifted the cover of his sketchbook and then shook her head at the empty pages. “Ryan and I broke up, and it would've been nice to have my friend beat him up or something,” she said.

“Ryan? Broke up? Beat him up?” he asked, repeating the key points. “I
have
been busy. Shit, I haven't even had time to meet him yet and it's over already?”

She gave him a pointed look that said “Exactly” before she turned and walked over to his calendar on the fridge. She tapped it with her finger before turning away with another judging shake of her head.

“I got a new car,” Pleasure said into the silence that felt condemning.

Quinn nodded in approval. “That's good, Graham. I'm proud of you,” she said.

“It's the Corvette.”

Quinn dropped her head before she looked at him with an incredulous expression. “Graham, you're six foot nine,” she began. “Just how easy is it for you to climb your big butt in and out of a Corvette?”

He laughed and shrugged. “It's not that bad.”

She held up both her hands palm forward and leaned back.

“So tell me about Ryan,” he offered even as he glanced at the time on the cable box beneath his new seventy-inch flat screen on the wall. He had to meet up with one of his clients at four and then head to Club Trick. It was a little after two.

“How's everything going?” she asked, coming to stand behind the back of the couch to eye him.

“Can't complain,” he said with a huge grin. “Can't complain at all.”

Quinn released a heavy breath and rolled her eyes upward before she looked at him again. “That's not what I'm talking about.”

Pleasure's smile dimmed a bit as he was filled with understanding. He nodded and licked his lips. “I'm good. No relapses. Much less cravings. I'm good,” he repeated.

“Good,” she said, reaching down to pick up her clutch and tuck it under her arm. “I'm happy to know what your empty sobriety calendar and empty sketchbook isn't telling about you not staying clean.”

“I been real busy,” Pleasure said again.

“Too busy to stay focused on staying clean. Too busy to sketch.” Quinn walked past him to the door. “At one time you needed them both very much.”

True. Both had been such big parts of his staying clean. “Maybe I don't need them anymore,” he said, looking down at her.

“You're also too busy for me,” Quinn gently reminded him with the hint of a sad smile at her lips as she pulled the front door open. “I guess you don't need me anymore either.”

“Don't say that,” Pleasure said, reaching out to grip the edge of the door and block her exit.

His “Boombastic” ringtone suddenly filled the air.
“Mr. Lover Lover . . . ”

“Don't go,” he said to her, already moving across the room to pick up one of his two phones. The one ringing was the prepaid phone he used exclusively for his clients.

He didn't answer it but he recognized the number of Alicia Larrington, a wealthy pediatrician he'd met at one of their revues. He had already serviced her twice in two weeks.
Looks like she needs it once a week.

He set the phone back down and turned to find Quinn still by the door. “Listen, I got a little time before work,” he said. “Let me hop in the shower and we can go get something to eat real quick. Cool?”

She looked reluctant but finally nodded in agreement.

Pleasure walked into his small bathroom and ran the water steaming hot before stripping off the shorts he wore. He relieved his bladder, brushed his teeth, and pulled his dreads back with a band before finally stepping under the spray of water with only a slight jolt at the feel of its heat. As he soaped down his body, with barely enough room for his large frame to fit, he thought of his next appointment. June was a pre-law student who could cum easier than any woman he ever bedded. Just sucking her nipples would push her over the edge until she was shivering and crying out with a dozen tiny explosions.

She made for a good hour.

Finishing up, he wrapped a thick black towel around his waist before stepping out of the shower. “Damn,” he swore into the swirling steam, wishing he had gotten his underwear and clothes before he came into the bathroom.

Opening the door, Graham felt the coolness of the central air hit against every spot on his body. “It's cold as a bitch in here,” he said.

Quinn turned from his windowsill with his cell phones in her hand and tears streaming down her face. “Really, Gra-ham, you selling dick now?” she asked, her voice a mixture of disappointment and annoyance.

“What are you doing with my phones?” he snapped, walking across the room to snatch them from her.

“What are you doing being a whore?” she countered, reaching out to snatch his towel away and leave him standing there nude and wet.

Graham rushed to cover as much of his dick as he could with his hands. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I wanted to see for myself what was on the market,” she said snidely, turning to stalk across the room and snatch up her clutch again. “If that's all you think of yourself, then that's your business.”

“You're right, it is my business . . . just like my phones,” he said.

Quinn opened the door wide but paused to look back at him. “One of your balls is out,” she said.

He freed his dick and bent down to scoop up his towel.

“Oh my.”

Graham looked past her to see his forty-something neighbor Ms. Wilcox standing in the hall and looking directly into his apartment at his nakedness. He wrapped his towel around his waist.

“If you like what you see, it's for sale,” Quinn snapped before she walked out of the apartment.

Just before the door closed behind her, Ms. Wilcox smiled and winked at him with a little wave of her fingers.

 

 

Pleasure tried for what seemed the hundredth time to call Quinn's number. It went straight to voice mail. He didn't understand her anger and hated to see how what he did with his time and his dick could end their friendship. What was her anger all about? Was their friendship the cliché of a boy who likes a girl who loves the boy secretly?

“Pleasure . . . you're up next.”

He dropped his cell back into his duffel bag inside his locker and grabbed his bottle of oil to lather over his body. He wore a black thong with his dick encased in a satin sleeve. He pulled on the satin robe and his fringed boots, then released the band loosely holding his dreads. They fell down past his shoulders.

He crossed the small and cramped locker room of the club's basement.

“Get 'em warmed up for the headliner.”

Pleasure paused and looked back to find Gary “The Finisher” Palms just zipping up his red patent leather thigh-high boots. The Finisher was a five-year veteran of the club, and his position as the last to perform had been locked in for years. He definitely brought in the women and thus the most revenue. He'd even flown overseas to perform and often bragged about the celebrities who requested his presence at their private events. The light-skinned brother with the slick curly hair and goatee loved himself almost as much as his legion of fans loved him.

Still, Pleasure was well aware that he saw him as a threat. He had come up the ranks quickly at the club. “Whatever, man,” he said, before turning to take the stairs two at a time.

Pleasure was more than four inches taller than he was and probably twice as strong.
As long as he don't touch me, I won't whup his little emotional yellow ass.

He stepped through the thick black velvet curtains that smelled of mildew just as the colorful lights surrounding the stage began to flicker in unison with his heavy bass-driven music.

“Welcome to the stage for your ultimate fantasy . . . Plea-
sure
!”

As soon as Unique, their in-house DJ, finished his intro, the stage went black. Quickly he moved to sit on the edge of the stage under the cloak of darkness. The stage lit up with the spotlight on him.

As his music played loudly he gripped the edge of the stage and spread his legs wide before bringing his feet down on either side of a slender white woman sitting before him. He rolled his body slowly before using his arm strength to elevate his legs above her head, then before doing a back flip and ending in the center of the stage with strength and force.

He spun, causing his robe to fly up around him before he eased out of it and flung it back. He turned to show off his hard buttocks and square back as he grinded to the music. When he spun back around the light coming through the open door caught his eye and moments later,
she
stepped out of the darkness of the back of the room and into the dim light around the stage.

Since the night of that bachelorette party, Ms. Prim and Proper Pearls had come to Club Trick for its ladies' night performances. He recognized her easily. She stood out with her pearls and pumps and country-club attire. She would nervously sit on the edge of her seat and watch his performance like a hawk. Whenever he approached her for a private dance she would timidly reach out to slide a fifty-dollar bill inside the rim of his thong as he gyrated his dick before her.

He smiled at her as he cockily walked forward and stroked the length of his dick inside his sleeve. She crossed her legs in the jean trousers she wore with a navy and red sheer polka-dot blouse.

She always came just in time for his solo performance and never stayed any later. In her everyday life he could tell she lived within the confines of rules and regulations with a great sense of right versus wrong. She was giving in to a temptation—a dirty secret—and it thrilled her. He thrilled her. She was there just for him and he knew it. He liked it.

 

 

The next day Pleasure parked his Corvette outside the quaint small house Quinn rented in Chappaqua, a city just ten miles from his apartment in Tarrytown. He spotted her Honda Accord in the driveway as he climbed from the deep bucket seat. He smiled a bit when he remembered her joking about getting in and out of the low-slung sports car.
She was right.

He stepped up on the curb and walked the brick path leading to her front door. It opened before he could even knock and Quinn stood in the doorway with her face free of her usual makeup and dressed in a tank top and wide-legged sweatpants.

“So you remember where I live?” she asked, stepping back to let him enter.

Pleasure didn't miss that her eyes were puffy and slightly red. That made him frown in confusion, but he cleared his throat before turning to face her as she shut the door. “I thought we needed to talk,” he said, pushing his hands into the pockets of his lightweight linen sports coat.

“About what?” she asked, moving to fold herself onto the suede sectional before her cold fireplace.