Read with BonusRead with Bonus

Be My Escort

So, there we were. Seated by the table, face to face, ready to talk business, and I was very eager to hear what he had to offer. A part of me was certain that whatever he had to offer would one way or another involve something sexual, and I was prepping to give him a stern talking-to and tell him to piss off and shove whatever ludacris amount of money he was planning to offer me up his arse.

"I'm so glad that you accepted my invitation and came here to hear me out, Cherilyn," he said with a hospitable and yet intimidating aura within his voice.

Usually, I tell people immediately to not call me by my birth name, but for some reason, I didn't say it to him. I don't know if it was because I didn't need to or maybe it was because I was scared to. At this point, I just wanted to know one thing; I wanted to know who the fuck this man was and what he fucking wanted with me.

"Before we get into…business, could you at least tell me your name?" I asked him because, apart from what his assistant called him, I didn't know any other name.

"My apologies! My name is Malcolm; Malcolm Balogun," he said with a smile that was quite charming. I mean, I was literally charmed by it because he was such a beautiful man, and he made my stomach churn, in a good way.

"How did you get my full name?" That just slipped out, and it came out with a bit of hostility.

"I'm a billionaire, Miss Cherilyn. I can find out whatever it is I wish to know," he said with a bit of arrogance.

"I see! You're not from around here, are you, Malcolm?" I asked, abandoning that subject for another while retaining my poker face.

"No, I am not. I do have a home here, but I'm currently in New York for some business, and I'll be here for a few months," he said.

"Just a few months, huh? Then, why have you asked me to come here? What is it you want?" I asked bluntly.

I looked down and spotted  two binders with documents in them on the table, one placed in front of him and the other placed in front of me. I looked at those binders and the first thing that came to mind was the scene from "Fifty Shades of Grey" when Christian and Anastasia discussed the terms of their sexual relationship. Thinking about that scene made me so hot between my thighs that a small part of me was kinda hoping that this meeting was going to go the same way it did in the movie.

"I've asked you to come here today because, as I've said, I have a business proposition for you," Malcolm said.

"I'm listening," I replied, sustaining eye contact while keeping a poker face.

"Well, it's quite simple, Miss Cherilyn," He started getting out of his seat, "Since last night, after your show, you're all I've been able to think of,"

He had a finger on the table, and he slid it across as he walked around the table, slowly heading to where I was. I knew where this was going but I just sat there silently, frozen in my seat, waiting for him to reach me and I didn't understand why.

"Your…artistry on that pole put a lot of dirty thoughts in my head; thoughts that I want to perform with you,"

He reached me and his masculine scent filled my nostrils, and it was like a drug that paralyzed me even more than I already was. I wasn't thinking with my head anymore; no, I was thinking with my lady parts, and they were craving his fingers so badly that it hurt. Malcolm stood behind my chair and gently placed his surprisingly soft hands on my shoulders and began to massage them with so much expertise, you'd think he was a masseur.

He massaged me more intently and let his hands slide down my neck, causing his fingers to brush against the top of my breasts. I was so hot for him that my nipples were threatening to burst out of my tight dress. He brought his mouth to my left ear and his hot breath tingled with such an erotic sensation that a moan escaped my pressed lips.

"I want you to please me and I want to please you as well," He whispered underneath his breath, "Would you like that?"

Before I could answer, he spun my seat around so we would be facing ourselves. I still just sat there, unable to move and, to be honest, I didn't want to.

"Would you like me to please you, Cherilyn?" He asked again.

I so badly wanted to say Yes, but the word just couldn't leave my tightened lips so I nodded at the question. He smiled when he got my response, and he bent down in front of me. He placed his hands on my thighs, against my dress, so I couldn't feel his hands on my skin yet, and they began to drift from the fabric of my dress to the skin of my lap. Those soft fingers felt like magic, and I was already soaking wet.

He took one hand and moved it around my thigh and within the open bottom of my dress. While he did this, he never once broke eye contact; it was almost like his eyes were the reason I couldn't move, the reason I couldn't breathe, the reason I didn't want to leave, the bait that had me drowning and the stimulant that made my libido rise. My throat was so parched and dry, but there was nothing dry about the kitty between my legs. His hand began to slide up this time, slowly approaching my throbbing vagina, filling me with anticipation and an insatiable need to feel him touch me down there. Just as his fingers were about to make contact, I heard his voice echoing in my head and I drifted out of my horny mind, back into reality.

"Did you hear me, Miss Cherilyn?" Malcolm asked from the other side of the table.

"What?" I asked as I snapped out of my daydream, "What?" I asked again, unsure of what he had said.

"I asked you if you didn't have a problem with that," he said, but I was still lost.

"A problem with what?"

"Being my escort," he said.

Escort? What did he mean by that? I needed more information and I didn't want him to realize that I had not been paying attention this entire time because I was daydreaming about his fingers in my pussy, so I came up with a way to spin the conversation.

"What else does being your escort entail?" I asked and waited for him to provide more details.

Previous Chapter
Next Chapter