AFTERNOON: “MANAGER’S OFFICE”
Jill was presently pressing a cushion against her breasts, sitting with her knees pulled up, in complete and unabashed bliss. “Oh, it was so good, so perfect — so—”
“Raunchy?” I offered.
“Yeah,” she picked up with a titter. “I mean,” she leaned over for a small kiss, “like, fucking, more, please!”
I laughed heartily at her open lewdness. “With me?” I asked, hopeful.
“Of course, love,” she nodded. Then, after a pause, studying my face, she added, “You in the first place.”
I smirked. “But you’ll take others where I am not available?”
“Yaah.” The response was both playful and entirely serious.
“Get dressed, Jill,” I said rather abruptly, almost insulting her need to be looked at naked by now. After all, she had only just washed her face off my cum, and her pussy was still raw from fresh fucking. “I want you to meet someone.”
* * *
Now dressed again, we took the stairs to the ground floor of the hotel to the reception — that’s where I knew we would meet Hollie, who, while all the Jill action was going on, texted me with the information. Jill kept giggling, unquestionably very happy, rather insanely happy, and also kept stopping me every few steps to kiss me, so much so that I had to tell her to stop me eventually or it would take us an hour to get downstairs.
Hollie met us at the reception downstairs. She was looking very professional; jacket, well-ironed trousers, fitting more a demurer board room than this place.
“This her?” she directed the question to me. I nodded. Jill suddenly went somewhat coy. “Shall we?” Hollie pointed towards the couches seats near the window in the foyer.
“Darling, what–?” Jill touched my arm when sitting down, quizzically. I was certain she trusted me, but she didn’t have any idea about why she was a part of this conversation or even who Hollie was.
Watching Jill with a smile that looked like a fake, learned smile, Hollie asked, “What is she like?”
Ignoring Jill’s stunned expression, I responded hurriedly. “Great range. She has a romantic side, but built up easily to proper hardcore. Phenomenal blowjob skills. Loves submission and is very good at it. Superb tight pussy. She’s a natural — you’d like her as one of yours. She wants more, she’d just said.”
As I was speaking, Jill’s face was getting paler, her jaw dropping and her face contorted into an expression of utter shock and horror. “Why the fuck did you just tell her that?” This was practically a shout aimed at me. She was raging, covering for not knowing what was supposed to be going on.
When Hollie placed a hand on her shoulder, she shoved it off rather aggressively. “Don’t touch me!”
“Sweetheart,” Hollie said, completely unaffected by the emotional display, “we’re thinking we might offer you a job here.”
A gorgeous angry frown crept across Jill’s brow. She squinted her eyes and silently mouthed, “offer you a job” in clear disbelief. She squinted her yes, adding to the impression of puzzlement. It looked like a mare tamed; from aggression to wonder with a hint of contentedness. She stammered eventually after several seconds of being unable to utter anything. “Job d-d-doing what?”
“Well—” Hollie laughed unapologetically. “Fucking, really.”
Jill practically snorted. “That’s ridiculous!” She stared at her, then looked at me to confirm that that had just been a joke — but met with me nodding instead. Her jaw dropped and her now bemused frown shifted to her lifting up her eyebrows. She was just getting the message, but not having all the information, she disbelieved this.
“You know what we do here.” Hollie went into her serious mode. “He tells me you are very good — and keen to do more.” She paused, studying the astonished and curious expression of Jill’s, and watching her tense figure. “Sweetie,” she extended her arm to put it on Jill’s shoulder, “you’re young, beautiful, sexy and want it.” We were watching a tiny smile creep back onto Jill’s face. “I’ve read your profile, too — I bet you’d like more, much more — and no man or woman would say no to, I think.”
Silence fell after this and it was evident that a blend of anxiety, excitement and arousal were rushing through Jill’s mind; she tried to collect her thoughts, clenching her fists on her lap in a feeble attempt to compose herself, but demonstrably failing and just breathing heavily.
“Jill, what are you thinking?” Hollie asked slowly, sitting back on the sofa, putting more distance between the two of them over the table as if to give Jill more space to think and relaxing things. She added softly, “Think you’re up to this?”
“It’s all a bit quick.” She was biting her lip and we had to wait about ten seconds for her to say it. “But—”
“Yes?” Hollie picked up that thread instantly. “But–?”
“But—” Another several seconds during which she just looked down at the floor, thinking, considering. “I wanted to be treated like a real woman. No more that bat-crazy woke stuff from my ex-boyfriend.”
She çapa escort had no idea how glad we were to hear that one, particularly myself, with my disciplinary meeting and job loss!
Hollie walked around the table now to sit next to her. “You sure? Make sure you really want it.”
My beautiful Jill put on her best, most attractive smile. “You make people’s fantasies come true, don’t you?”
“That’s us!” Hollie replied, rather proudly, I thought.
“Then I want to be a part of it.”
Hollie sighed, clearly with relief, and I was really proud of Jill and her decision. I did have my feelings for her, but in no way did I think I should stand in her way of having fun — she would make anyone happy; her ability to morph from a romantic affectionate young woman to a no holds barred bitch would make anyone happy.
“What are doing tonight?” Hollie asked her very matter-of-factly.
Jill shifted somewhat nervously still in her seat. “Why?”
“We are interested, but you still need an interview.” She caught her puzzled expression and tilted her head towards me. “He had one. He just didn’t know it at the time!” she laughed. I nodded to confirm the truth of what she was saying. Jill’s pupils widened to a pair of saucers; not cross saucers, just taken aback.
“And what’s — involved — in this — interview?” Jill asked, her voice slightly shaky.
“If you’re to be with us, you will need to be able to cater to different tastes,” Hollie explained. “Some people want just straight sex, maybe because they’re lonely or they’re not getting any from their partners.” Suddenly, her voice was serious, with a passion of someone who’s doing something they’ve always dreamed of. “Others, though, want to experiment and hope to explore harder, rougher or kinkier stuff. So you need to show you can do soft and rough; that you can be in control, but are willing to submit, too. And when I say submit, I mean, really submit!” She gave her a long look as though she was trying to see the answers just in her face. “Think you’re up to it?”
“I—think so.” She was slightly uncertain, but I thought the speed at which it all developed would’ve made it difficult for her.
“If what we just did is any indication, she can morph from a Bronte lady to a red district bitch just like that.”
“Hey!” Jill feigned indignation, playfully. Then, to Hollie, she said with renewed confidence, “Yeah, I can.”
“That’s what the interview is to find out. Got tonight to spare?”
A genuine thrill of excitement, arousal, really, lit up Jill’s face. She grinned widely. “Oh yeah!”
“She is gorgeous, isn’t she?” Hollie grinned back at her, but spoke to me.
“The best,” I confirmed without a moment’s hesitation, getting a quick kiss from Jill over the table. She clearly relaxed, her true nature unravelling right in front of Hollie’s eyes. “Oooh, I am so curious to see what you can do — you look like you’re such a natural!” Jill cupped her face in her hands; an astonishing, bizarre almost, leap from talking about hot sex to an innocent’s coyness. “We’ll find you some partners for tonight. First, you need a proper tour of this place. Come—” she extended her hand to her. “I will show you around.” It was rather clear that Hollie felt attracted to her — but hey, who wouldn’t?
“Hey, what about me? Am I supposed to just sit here? I’ve done the tour already!” I reminded them.
“Quite right.” Hollie thought for a second. “Go to the manager’s room and meet my business partner Katherine. We’ll be back in 20 minutes.”
“How do I find her office? Can’t remember where that is.”
“Ask at the reception. They’ll direct you.”
I watched those two walking towards the lifts, jiggling those shapely butts, already friendly with each other. This day was already unreal — and it seemed it was about to get better.
“Ah! You’ve not asked me yet about the salary,” was the last thing I heard from Hollie as the lift’s door slid shut behind them just before they were taken to the upper levels of the hotel. I shook my head in amused disbelief and walked up to the reception.
* * *
I knocked on the door labelled “Manager”. A muffled female voice said “Enter!”; the voice was somehow familiar, but being muffled, I couldn’t quite place it.
The office was a standard working room. There were two desks here with two desktop computers, papers and documents neatly arranged in trays and folders, some scattered on the desks, clearly being worked on. I assumed one of these desks was Hollie’s. Both had black swivelling chairs parked next to them as you would expect in a room of this sort. The space was sizeable, but there were no windows, and I thought it would be exhausting to work in a window-less space like this. If not for four different large photos of nude couples in rather lewd positions — hung on the whitewashed walls — there would be nothing special about this office.
On the other end of the room, there was an ajar brown door leading to what fındıkzade escort it looked like a cupboard; I imagined more folders were stored there. I could see a bit of a woman’s heeled shoe on the floor there and some rustling of papers, so the owner of the voice was definitely there. I closed the door behind me.
“Ah, there you are!” She went back into the room and I froze, thoroughly shocked.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” My face must have quite literally fallen and my voice was essentially a shout. She was truly the last person I expected to see here.
‘Katherine’ was my good friend Katie, the cupcake shop friend of mine!
She walked over to sit at her workspace like nothing happened. “I work here.” She laughed. “Stuart, close your mouth. You’ll catch flies.”
“Sit down,” she added, just watching me with clear delight of having delivered the shock of my life. “Pull up Hollie’s chair.”
I did, on shaky legs, somewhat hazy, not quite understanding what the hell was going on. “You? Here?”
“Yes me here,” she mimicked my words, caricaturing them and thus parodying me.
“Why? Surprised?”
“You think?” I gasped through gaping mouth. “How?”
“Alright, sweetie, calm yourself down. I’ll tell you.” There was a marked difference between how she was in the café — and how she had been for all the time I’d known her: no torn jeans and no hippy-style look; plus, she spoke differently: less excitement, more composure and more formality somehow. It seemed to go with her business outfit: black jacket with a white blouse underneath and black skirt, and stockings and shoes in the same colour. She looked professional and spoke with the air of being in control. Where has the cupcake lady and my school friend of many years gone? “Get yourself some coffee first.” She pointed to the coffee machine to the left of me at the wall.
I went over and pressed the button. She watched me with a mysterious, puzzling expression on her face. I returned the look, waiting for all the coffee to trickle into my paper cup. For the first time, probably almost ever, I noticed her rather large bust. The context of this hotel made it impossible not to.
I sat back down and took a few greedy sips of the drink, thwarted only by the heat of the coffee, but feeling the calm come over me. “Well?” I demanded an explanation. “I expect it’s quite a story.
“I am sure it is.” She smiled and began. I did interrupt her here and there, but overall kept listening. She did acknowledge my astonishment with chuckles, smiles and laughs in places, but in general just kept talking, clearing up almost everything from how she’s come to be here to the events of the last few hours.
“You might not know this, Stuart, or perhaps you thought it impossible, but I am a girl with a huge sex drive, and I alternate between stuff that is cute — like flowers and cupcakes! — and harbouring intense fantasies and desires. [A rather impressive start to the story!] I have always liked you, but I think you just thought nothing could ever happen, so I just let that go and looked elsewhere. I can pick my battles. But ever since that divorce of yours, it was not easy to get you out of my head. Someone told me you thought I don’t like men in general or something — nothing could be further from the truth.
“But — because I was getting lonely — I am talking about 4 years ago or so — I needed to do something. I already had the cupcake shop running, and it was quite successful, and with my savings from my previous business — IT in education — so I was doing alright. Then, at a party — a birthday party of a friend of mine (you don’t her — her name is Chloe — pretty girl) — I met Hollie, and we immediately got on.
“We quickly found out not only that we share a similar sense of humour and have similar hobbies, but also that we share similarly high sex drive and think that inhibitions around it are a horrible horrible thing, making most people we knew quite unhappy. We actually had quite a lot of serious discussions about these topics — thinking of girls like Chloe, suffering in silence for the want of reputation with her friends, “saving themselves” for their future husbands or suffering in sex-less relationships as if this was the way it is supposed to be. Those pent-up emotions need to be released or people end up tormented, angry and dejected. [The passion for what she was talking about was clear in her voice and wide-open eyes.] The things in society just now are not helping — you know this better than most, of course. [I nodded.]
“As you can imagine, Hollie and I ended up in bed soon enough. [I smiled, aroused by the idea of Katie with Hollie, but had little time to imagine it fully.] That’s where the idea of this place started forming. It was her idea, mostly, but I had this money in my bank — and felt it was a good use for it as any. The idea was to create a real place that doesn’t feel like a whorehouse, where people’s fantasies are aksaray escort realised. We wanted there to be a place where what people want, they actually get. So not quite meeting with escorts who might watch the clock for the end of “a session” or reject some requests. No — we want people to leave happy here.
“We started small, of course. We were somewhere else at first those three years ago. Just had space for 10 people and just 4 people working for us. But our regulars were so satisfied that the word of mouth meant quickly that we were growing fast. We only ask for regular monthly subscription — Netflix costs more — but the interest still surpassed our expectations! Slowly, there was money for moving over to this place, decorating it with more taste, employing more people, having more rooms for different sex niches, advertising, running a website—”
“It’s amazing now. We have at least 10 people here on weekdays and more on Fridays and Saturdays. We close on Sundays. We cater to everything — straight, gay, bi-, couples, threesomes, group, gangbangs, romantic, hard — you name it! And people are almost always happy, and come back for more. We might be dirty, but people are satisfied and really happy.” [She repeated the word a few times, clearly proud of the achievements.]
“The place is just amazing,” I interjected.
“We meet the demands of our clients,” she replied as a way of agreeing with me. “Often, for that, new equipment is required or just some new décor. Because of my previous IT in education experience, and to some extent my running a shop experience, I am responsible for the budget and expenditure here; Hollie’s task is ensuring customer satisfaction and doing follow ups, arranging emailing out new information and the advertising of our services.” She spoke factually, but clearly with great pleasure, her face beaming.
“Now, as to yourself,” she went on, leaning closer towards me over the table. “I was watching you over the last year or so, struggling in that wretched workplace of yours, destroyed bit by bit by the wokery, that post-modernist rubbish.” She watched closely my reaction, checking and verifying that she and I were speaking the same language. “These attitudes, the never-ending virtue signalling and victimhood — not good,” she stated firmly. “This n-th wave of the feminists, unnatural, suspect of men, denying our wants and desires — even worse.” She now placed her hand over mine, soon stroking it to my surprise. “I hope you don’t mind that I helped set up the last two days — if you know what I mean — for you: Hollie and Jessica.”
I thought of the heat, the lust and the amount of fucking I had over the last two days already. “Not at all,” I said truthfully. She kept stroking my hand, leaving me no doubt that whatever ideas I’d had that nothing would ever develop between us were clearly and utterly rubbish.
“Jill we didn’t know until very recently, but from what we knew about you — your always lusting after young slim sexy blondes — we thought she’d work for you. Clearly, she did.” She smiled, quite sweetly, in a way I’d never seen her smile before: a smile of someone who acknowledges the differences between men and women and rather than denying they exist, celebrates them.
“I needed to get you out of that hellhole,” she said, evidently referring to the university, “and let you realise your desires after all this that time; let you be a man.” She took a breath, hesitant, before going on. “That’s why I suggested recording that meeting. Guess what happened with that recording?”
Because of Jill, I had completely forgotten about that! I raised my eyebrows at her, waiting for the answer. “It hit YouTube and Facebook and Twitter a few hours ago, and is now trending. The university is already in the middle of a scandal, trying to find some way to explain the behaviour of those professors on the panel. Trust me, they’ll be in every paper in this country soon.”
She stopped and gazed at me. “If you decide to stay with us, and work here, clearly you have to give up the idea of your tenure. What are you going to do?”
Slipping my hand out of hers, I sighed and leaned back in my chair. This didn’t require much thinking; the decision has really been made for me in so many ways.
“Well, let’s see,” I started. “After years of feeling uncomfortable over there, working in a radical feminist and woke-obsessed environment, I got accused of victimising a student, but never told who really. I was just a real victim of witch-hunt and ideological discrimination, something out of Putin’s Russia. They clearly do not want much to do with me and I with them. The whole system is consumed by this vitriolic disease, too, so even if somebody employed me after this — and it’s clearly going to be a scandal given what you’re saying — then the story would just repeat itself.”
All this I ranted out on an almost single breath. She was beaming. It was clear where this rant was going. “So I certainly prefer it here to there — anywhere there! — where people come for pleasure, don’t pretend they’re someone they’re clearly not for some weird disgusting and prude reasons and acknowledge they’re human beings with desires and wants. Plus, your idea to allow people to explore their fantasies, let their pent-up desires be released and inhibitions lost, whatever they might be, is so good.”