“I like you, Philip,” Audrey said lazily as we lounged on the bed. Stan Getz played on her MP3 player. We had fucked just minutes earlier.
“Fruit is so sexy,” she purred. She daintily reached for a slice of pineapple on a plate on the nightstand. I thought about how certain fruits resemble female genitalia, but I thought it best not to vocalize that impression.
I saw that Audrey was in town again, so I booked an appointment with her early this evening. When I arrived at her room at the Sheraton, she greeted me with a smile. A thin white robe was draped over her flawless body. She was clad in a white garter and stockings set, accentuated by her high heels. She seemed a bit different this time. Something was off. She seemed a bit sedated, like she was somewhat out of it. Her room was messier than during my previous visits — I spied a couple of empty wine bottles and a package of snack cakes. When I placed the donation on the dresser, she immediately opened the envelope to count the bills.
She moved toward the window in her room and commented on the view at dusk. The dome of the cathedral could be seen below us. The thought occurred to me to bend her over in front of the window, grab her by the hips, and go at it, hoping that someone down on the street below could look up to the 23rd floor and see us. I’ve never considered myself an exhibitionist, but I imagined Audrey and I being caught in flagrante delicto.
Instead we moved to the bed. Her lingerie came off, causing me to admire her pale skin. I caressed her glorious breasts and sucked on her nipples. She reached down and stroked me. As her mouth went up and down my cock, I ran my fingers through her silky black hair. Eventually my mouth made its way to her bare mons pubis. Then I went down on her. She smoothly put a condom on me with her mouth and wound up on top. Her vocalizations as she rode me triggered a thunderous orgasm.
We talked afterwards. (And she does like to talk.) Again, Audrey seemed a bit spacey this evening. She mentioned she once had a boyfriend in the New York neighborhood I once worked in. She was considering moving to the Northeast. She had recently watched Roman Holiday again. (Audrey Hepburn was the inspiration for her name.) She asked if she was my favorite escort among the ladies I have seen.
“You’re up there,” I said, which isn’t quite true. (If I had to rate her, she’d be in the second tier. Good, but not among my favorites.)
“Yay!” she replied.
She wound things up a few minutes before our hour was up and started to get dressed. It was early evening now, and she was going out to grab a bite to eat. She dressed up quite stylishly, and upon getting dressed myself, I accompanied her to the elevator. We exited into the foyer and went our separate ways into the dusk, but not before she wished me goodbye.
“Ciao!”
Lutheran Guilt 