Day Two on the job was even more successful financially, although more time consuming. Jackie called me at work about a job. There wasn’t a lot going on at the museum, with no tours scheduled for the rest of the day, so I told my boss I had to leave early. If there weren’t student groups to lead around, there was not much for me to do. I did not mention that I was going to meet my driver at three in the afternoon for a session in Long Island.
Terrence, my driver, was supposed to pick me up outside of Bloomingdales on 59th and Lexington at three. He was an hour late. I couldn’t get mad—it wasn’t anyone’s fault that he’d gotten stuck in traffic—but it was still annoying. I just stood on the corner, periodically going in to Bloomingdales or calling Jackie for a status update. We didn’t make it out to the Royal Inn until almost five.
I was cranky.
I wouldn’t have minded the drive so much, once he had finally shown up, if Terrence had just stopped trying to engage me in conversation, or if he hadn’t played loud dance music the whole way. Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk. Beats, beats, beats. He told me all about his many occupations over the pulsing techno. I wouldn’t call Terrence a renaissance man, but I got the impression that he wore a lot of mediocre hats. He even tried to sell me health insurance. Apparently, selling health insurance was one of his primary sources of revenue, in addition to driving escorts around.
When we finally got to the Inn, Terrence dropped me off and split. He told me to call him on his cell phone a few minutes before the session was over. He said it wasn’t a good idea for him to wait in the motel parking lot itself, so he would be waiting in the lot across the street.
I said goodbye to Terrence and went to meet client number two.
Jeff Kenel was Indian. My first reaction was “I’ve never had sex with an Indian before.” My second reaction was, “Damn, he’s not as cute as William.”
We introduced ourselves as I looked around the room. It was the biggest motel room I’d seen. It looked like a motel room in the sense that it had generic motel décor and that feeling of “budget class,” but the room itself was huge. I’d never seen a motel room so big. There was an enormous bathtub right in the main room that Jeff began filling up that was more of a hot tub than a bathtub. Beyond that, there was a second large room with a king size bed, a sitting room which featured some armchairs and a couch neatly spread out throughout the room, and a separate shower in the main bathroom.
“I have to call the agency to let them know I’m here.”
Jeff nodded. I took out my cell phone, but it didn’t work. I was so far out in Long Island that I must have been out of range.
“Can I use yours?” I asked.
He handed it to me, pressing a few numbers as he passed it. He had the agency on speed dial.
“Hi, Jackie. I’m here. Finally.”
“Did you get the money, honey?”
I turned to Jeff. “I need to get the money from you.”
He pointed to a stack of twenties on the dresser. I grabbed it and counted. It was all there.
“Got it. All set.”
“Okay, girl. Let me know when you’re outta there.”
I hung up the phone and turned back to Jeff. He was taking off his clothes, so I followed suit, joining him in the tub.
We still weren’t really saying anything to each other. He didn’t seem to have William’s winning conversation skills. I figured I’d try to make some kind of conversation. It would make things easier when we actually had to interact physically.
“So what kind of work do you do?” I wasn’t sure if this was forbidden territory, if it was too much personal information, but I didn’t know where else to begin. I didn’t want to talk about the weather, and I figured “come here often?” might be an even more treacherous thing to ask.
“I’m a programmer.”
We were now seated in the bathtub, facing each other, my legs at his waist and his legs around mine. I was struck by how utterly not attracted to him I felt. I had to rectify that situation as quickly as possible. I started rubbing his feet and stroking his calves. I was desperately trying to create a feeling of intimacy.
“What kind of programming?”
“Programming for accounting programs.”
Well, that didn’t make for a juicy topic. I was grasping at straws here.
“How long have you done that?”
I could feel the painful awkwardness of the conversation, but at least it was a start. He wasn’t exactly helping. Maybe he was just the most boring man alive? But I was determined to break the ice, with or without his help, before we fucked or it would feel even weirder. Plus, the longer we talked, the less time would be left for sex. This was part of my strategy.
“For a few years. I did C and C++ before that.”
I nodded. Thrill a minute. “Why’d you stop?”
“I got tired of it. I wanted a change.” He grinned at me. It was the sex grin. I smiled back. I knew what was about to happen, and, like clockwork, he motioned for me to come closer.
It was tricky maneuvering in the tub, but I tried to crawl over to him in as sexy a manner as I could. I sort of straddled him, making sure to keep his penis away from my vaginal area, and we kissed. No tongue. Sort of a quick peck, and then Jeff turned his head away. I had no idea what that meant.
Maybe he was married, and he didn’t think fucking another girl was immoral if he didn’t kiss her? Maybe it was a Julia Roberts/Pretty Woman kind of thing, and he didn’t want to get attached to me? Maybe he was self-conscious about his breath? Who knew? All I knew was that I was glad I didn’t have to kiss him. It was my one consolation for the fact that I had to fuck him.
I cradled my head against his neck and lay there, not quite sure what to do next. My hair was damp and sticky against my back and face. He was running his hand over my shoulders, and his fingers kept getting tangled in it.
“Do you want me to pull my hair back?” I asked.
“Yes. Good idea.” He sounded relieved.
I got out of the bath to fetch my bag. I pulled my hair back with a barrette and returned to the bathtub. While I was at it, I left my bag close to the tub so I could grab my condoms more easily. It didn’t look like Jeff had any lying nearby, and there was no way I’d risk unprotected sex with him. Whatever crazy stuff I might be doing, I was definitely not that kind of girl.
I straddled Jeff again carefully, making sure to keep his penis against my leg and far away from anything else. He started rubbing my thighs and moving around. I got nervous.
“Do you want a condom?” I asked.
He grinned at me in a devilish manner and shook his head.
Okay. Whatever that meant. I gave him a little more time.
Jeff kept rubbing my thighs, and I reciprocated by rubbing his thighs, back, and arms. He kept moving around, and his penis was definitely coming a little too close to me.
“You need a condom.” I tried to sound assertive.
He shook his head.
“You’re making me nervous,” I said. “You need to put one on if you want to have sex.”
“Okay,” he replied, sounding incredibly reluctant about the idea.
Thank god. At least he wasn’t putting up a fight. I reached into my bag, pulled one out, and handed it to him. He put it on. I got back on top and slipped him inside. We were halfway there.
(to be continued…)