The Third Whore, or No A for Effort - Sex Stories

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The Third Whore, or No A for Effort

Date: 8/17/2015, Categories: Hardcore, Author: VirgoGo, Rating: 11, Source: LushStories

bondage, blindfolds, non-incriminating); my favorite pair of bug eye sunglasses (for the post-session "walk of shame"). Moments before heading out the door, I removed the hot rollers and gave my hair a glamorous fluff and spray. When I arrived at the Four Seasons, I knew I might not look like a media executive on the make, but no one (except Roberto, the Concierge) would know my truth as I strolled through the lobby. I looked like a woman on the prowl, not an escort on assignment. I took a taxi to the Four Seasons and texted the office one word, "Enroute". I got a number back "2201". I replied "Roger Wilco, Mark 2201" and then I deleted all the texts. The "e" in text could also stand for evidence. I had the taxi stop in front of Tao where was a crowd of smokers milling about outside the restaurant. I wanted to slow myself down and collect my thoughts for a moment before meeting the mysterious Man-Who-Will-Not-Be-Satisfied. I went inside the restaurant, found the Ladies Room, and gave myself a final look. A little more lipstick was required, likewise some minor refinements to the hair, but otherwise, I was good to "ho"! I exited the restaurant with my Birkin tight against my body, and entered the hotel. Security barely glanced at me as I entered the elevator and pushed 22. Invariably, I steeled myself for a question. "Just dropping something off to a colleague." "My cousin is a guest." "I have a date from Ashley Madison!" Always the consummate professional, I try to have an ... excuse at the ready. Once again, that tiny bit of preparation was for naught. I must have an honest face, I chuckled to myself, as the elevator ascended. The door opened onto 22. The hotel is familiar, so I went left down the quiet hall, and knocked on 2201. I heard some rustling inside, but it only took a moment for the door to open, revealing a tall, lean man in a well cut suit. He ushered me in, and invited me to sit on a chair while he sat down on the sofa. I smiled, put down my bag, and walked confidently over to the living room. As I was about to sit down on the chair, he grabbed my arm, firmly, and tells me I've forgotten something. I was baffled. I was on time. I was ready to play. We hadn't been properly introduced yet, but that was his doing, not mine. I decided to play dumb. "Please forgive me, Sir, but what have I forgotten?" I gave as perplexed a look as I could muster. "Your bag. Did you ask if you could leave it there?" I eyed my Birkin, and I looked back at him. Mark was “Sir” to me until he told me otherwise. That’s S&M 101, and I wasn’t about to make some rookie mistake. "No, Sir. I'm very sorry about that. Shall I get it?" "Yes, get it. But on all fours." He then pushed me down to the floor. Fascinated that the games were starting even before the usual pleasantries, I crawled the 20 feet to the bag. But instead of grabbing it with my hand, I bit the handle theatrically, and returned to the sofa with my Birkin between my teeth. "Very good," he said, and little ...