Room Girls Pt 3
What the hell is he doing with that thing? Veevie propped herself up on the footboard of the ornate bed, her breasts bouncing in one perfect spring as she adjusted her stance again.
She was sitting naked at the end of the bed, her legs wide open, and her pink tipped toes sticking out on either side of the odd man resting himself against the headboard.
He was in her room for the evening. He had checked in an hour ago, walking in with a laptop under his arm. He was wearing a nice cut suit; a camel color that complemented his caramel colored skin. His black hair was neatly trimmed, and his nails were trimmed and clean. Veevie always noticed nails. She could tell what kind of lover was sharing her room by the look of his nails. This one had his done by a professional. She had smiled to herself when she had noticed them. Sitting on the sling backed settee that had inspired many an erotic moment wearing her silk robe and white stockings, she couldn’t help but thinking about how he had two things taken care of professionally at the resort.
He had a day’s growth of beard, his only flaw to his good looks, and somehow that seemed to add to him as well. Sometimes, Veevie, thought to herself, sometimes she got to entertain a smooth looker.
He had paid her no attention. Seemed to be occupied with something, as the large boulder of men Mr. A and Mr. B brought in his luggage. She had straddled the settee, the silk tie of the robe tangling between her legs while the rest of it slipped behind her tanned thighs to cover her ass. That silk tie was the only cover maintained over her shaved petals. She leaned down, her breasts peeping out of the large opening of the robe. Wetting her red full lips, she had twirled a loose lock of blonde hair around her finger giving him a coy smile.
That look had gotten her extra tips under the pillow, and quite a reputation, but this gentleman didn’t seem to notice. Maybe he was a stockbroker, some salesman, a banker- from his clothes he could be one of those. She changed positions, lying on the settee, rubbing it like a cat rubs your leg, her ass curved in the air, showing her lace stockings. Money pose number two, and still no response. She frowned, maybe he was gay.
He had taken off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and loosened his tie. While taking off his shoes he turned and looked at her. Dark eyes that took her all in like she was part of the window treatment then back to his tie. “Get undressed, come to me on the bed,” his accent was English, crisp, clear and informative.
Veevie stood up and undressed herself slowly, walking in her most saucy stride towards her guest. She reached out to unbutton his shirt but his hand stopped her. “That won’t be necessary.”
An hour later, Veevie was sitting at the foot of the bed watching the odd man. He was sitting with his back to the headboard, feet stretched out in front of him on either side of her hips. As instructed, she sat between his feet at the foot of the bed, naked with her legs open, her toes on either side of his thighs. On his lap was the laptop computer. He hadn’t stopped typing since they had sat down.
Once she had tried to run her foot up his thigh. The hand again stopped her and she was told, “that won’t be necessary.”
Arching her back, her long blonde hair falling over the footboard, she stretched herself like a feline and let out a pert exhale of breath, the squeak of a sex kitten. He studied the screen some more.
Veevie had seen many things in her last 6 months as a Room Girl. She had had many requests, fulfilled many fantasies, faked a few ecstasies for the satisfaction of her guests, and made quite a reputation of her suite in her new life. She had been tied up, held up, felt up, mounted, stuffed, and doubled many times. One time she even let a man’s mother watch her and give him advice while fucking her doggie style in a nurse’s uniform. She’d done a little of it all, but she had never been ignored.
She liked attention, and he just was not helping her in that department. Why did he pay for her suite for the evening if he wasn’t even going to look at her? A fucking poodle could sit at the foot of the bed.
“My name is Eugene Levy,” the man said, breaking Veevie’s tirade in her mind. He hit the keys on the computer with two crisp strokes and studied her over the top of the laptop. “I am a writer, have you heard of me?”
Veevie rolled her head to one side, stretching out a cramp and watching his eyes. His tone was crisp, professional, like he was giving a lecture at a college, not talking to a Room Girl naked and sitting wide open at the end of a bed. Eugene Levy…that name did sound familiar.
“Ah, yes, perhaps not,” he made a smirk of a smile then addressed himself back to his computer. “I am finishing some pieces for my next collection. I am on a tight schedule you see, and need to make sure that these are good works.”
He looked over the computer to the blonde vixen at the foot of the bed. He had worn her down to caustic boredom. She looked wearily at him, her pouty lips and sparkling come-hither eyes growing dull from the lack of attention he was giving her. He tried not to smile. Spoiled little harlot was not used to being ignored.
“I’m going to read to it to you, a rare treat. I am very private about my work. It is important that you do not interrupt me, nor, ah, charm me until I finish.”
Veevie sat up and looked him in the eyes, over the top of the computer. She blinked her large eyes twice and made an innocent face, “no touchie?” She pouted and reached for his groin under the warm computer base.
The hand came down to remove hers, “that won’t be necessary.”
She very ungracefully plopped back onto the edge of the bed.
“In pose please,” he reminded.
Veevie opened her legs, bucking her hips up to adjust her back against the footboard then set down again.
Eugene Levy began to read, “Morgan had watched her for about two weeks. Her bedroom window was across the alley of his small flat. He had been watching her undressing, her naked body gauzed by the thin curtain every night. Some evenings he enjoyed her touching herself as she sat on the stool of her vanity. Some evenings he watched this reoccurring male touching her on the stool of her vanity, touching her across the end of the bed, and once in the window her bare ass pressed onto the open portal. All the while he had touched himself, and fantasized of the time when he would taste her.”
Veevie’s attention became peeked. She felt a stir in her body thinking about the peeping tom. Eugene’s voice was low and seductive too, adding to the sensation making her breast feel tingly. She had the urge to touch it.
“He studied her routine, learned her goings and comings, even began nodding to her on the street. All the while he watched and waited, for his opening.
“It came in the form of her missing cat in the alley. He heard her calling for the yellow animal while he lifted weights on the balcony. Wiping the sweat from his back with the shirt around his neck, he slipped down the fire escape to offer his assistance. He found the cat in no time. Sitting under the box he had put it in earlier behind the dumpster. She was so grateful she invited him in.
“When they entered the apartment she offered her gratitude for his help. He accepted it by pressing her against the wall in the foyer, he hand going into her shirt to squeeze her right breast, as he pressed her into a hard open kiss.
“She pushed at him, trying to get away, but he held firm and continued his caress of her breasts, pulling the bud between two fingers until it betrayed her protest and became erect in his hand.”
Veevie listened with silent intent, before she realized it, her hand had gone to her right breast and was pulling the nipple into firm attention. Her hands were making her restless on the bed.
It felt so good; she used both hands one on each breast, shifting her rear as she became aroused.
Eugene felt her move and hid his smile, he could see her playing with her breasts, and it wouldn’t be long before she reached for those thighs. He read on, “He slid a thigh between her legs, moving up to take her off balance. She rode his thigh, her toes barely touching the floor. She balled her hands in fists to hit at him, then quickly clung to him before she fell to the floor. It was what he had planned. He moved his mouth down to kiss her ear. His hands ripped her shirt from her, the buttons flying across the room. She wasn’t wearing a bra, he knew she wasn’t, he had watched her dress to go downstairs. She wasn’t wearing panties either. Under those trousers was a smooth bare pussy that he planned to possess in due time.
“He bit her ear, his hands rough pulling at her nipples and told her he had been watching her all this time. He replayed for her all the dirty details he had seen and what he wanted to do to her for teasing him all this time. His hand pulled open her trousers during this discussion and he thrust two fingers inside her shaved lips. She was wet for him, and he knew that she had known he was watching all this time.”
Veevie was becoming involved in the story. She closed her eyes and pictured herself as the girl in the flat being pinned to the wall. Without realizing it her left hand began to stroke up and down her own thigh. Her thumb reaching to pull at the petals of her own pussy, a slick wetness seeped out, inviting her fingers to come inside.
“Morgan led her to the sofa where he sat down pulling her between his legs onto her knees. She was instructed to undress herself and him, then her face was pulled down to suck him for a time. He fucked her face like a pussy. Holding her head to his groin and making her stroke herself all the while. She was on all fours, a hand fucking her own pussy, the other holding her up while he used her hot little mouth to cool his desire. He wanted her this way, pleasuring him while doing what she thought no one saw her doing in her private time.”
Veevie’s fingers had found her clit. They were moving back and forth in a slow, insistent motion, making her squirm even more. She was picturing her own mouth lapping at the hard cock, feeling her own hand touching herself, not noticing that her own hand really was pressing her into passion.
“He rose suddenly, falling onto her and bending her to take her from behind. Pressed between the sofa and the coffee table, he fucked her doggie style, using her breast as love handles. She moaned when he worked a finger into her ass and told her to keep touching herself while he took her from behind.”
Veevie’s pussy was becoming more needy. She slipped two fingers inside her wet hole, and worked them in and out as her thumb stroked the hard nub left behind. She was hot, and aroused to aching. This professional straight talking Englishman was driving her out of her mind with his unexpected perverted tale. She listened to the story, the woman was stroking herself into climax and Veevie felt that she wouldn’t be so far behind. She didn’t know if this would be something her guest wanted, and tried to restrain her urges for awhile.
The story went on. Veevie slowed her hand in her pussy but with great restraint. Eugene Levy described the woman’s release as she was taken from behind, her spanking punishment from cumming without Morgan’s permission, and her new position facing the bedroom window naked as she was taken again from behind.
Veevie sucked on her bottom lip, squirmed mercilessly at the end of the bed, and fought against her own hand that was taking on a mind of its own. She managed to remove her hand when the couple in the story rested on the windowsill for a time. However on the next paragraph, the girl was being eaten properly by Morgan as she sat at her vanity as he had seen her so many times. Listening to the details of his sucking lips on her clit drove Veevie wild.
She plunged her fingers against her swollen clit, hard this time. Rubbing fast and forcefully. She rocked her hips up off the bed and cried out loudly when the spiral burst inside. She shook the bed with her rocking, her screams of self-pleasure drowning out the story that was still being read at the time.
When he finished reading his works, she was a crumpled mess with her own wetness seeping onto the blankets running down her thighs. She looked at him with a wanton madness. A tigress waiting to pounce at any time.
Eugene Levy closed the lid to the laptop. He folded his small glasses and put them back into his pocket with a smile. “Well, that was a good ending. A good read, I thought, this time.”
Veevie was breathing heavily. She wanted him to fuck her. She needed him to fuck her or she was going to go out of her mind. Her body racked from her own touch, her own orgasms making her crave the feeling of a firm hard penis ramming deeply inside.
He got off the bed; she stood on her knees in its center, watching him as he packed his laptop back into its case. She reached for his pants as he put on his coat and straightened his tie. She gripped his belt, trying to loosen it and get to what was inside.
The hand reached down and pulled her away. He took a small book from his coat and sat it on the table. With a pen he signed the inside.
Veevie watched him, and made a move to touch him again. This time she felt the long outline of him down his thigh. Semi hard and inviting to her passion filled mind. He pushed her away and placed the book by her side, “that won’t be necessary.” He left the room, whistling, his computer at his side.
Veevie watched him leave, then down at his picture on the back of the book. She turned over the volume in her hand; “The Perversions of the Perverted by Eugene Levy” scrolled the jacket across a picture of an open folding rose. On the inside he had written. “To Veevie in room 213, thanks for the professional feedback---Gene.”