Anything for Money: A Sex-For-Hire College Romance (20 page)

The elevator door slid open and we teetered into the hallway, unwilling to part.

I held her head tighter, pulled her lips harder against my mouth. Her eyes fluttered. My hard-on was locked between us like a fence pole trying to keep us apart. Normally I’d be self-conscious about my dick, but there weren’t enough free neurons in my brain for any higher-level emotion, they were all committed to this primal, hungry girl in front of me.

Then suddenly she spun around in my arms so her ass was against my cock. She looked back over her shoulder and pulled my mouth back down to her mouth. She took my hands and pulled them across her torso. I let her guide me. One hand she brought up to her chin, over her magnificent chest, and I caught the first vivid feel of the breasts I’d been lusting over for weeks. She put my hand on her neck, under her chin, and I understood. I used it to hold her mouth against mine, and move her mouth like I wanted. She gave another quiet groan.

My other hand she guided down to her jeans. She popped open her belt quickly, tore open the top few buttons, and shoved my hand down into her jeans.

My hand slid over the warm, elastic skin of her belly. It was soft, but underneath I could feel the strength of her body. My hand slid into her panties and clamped on her pussy.

Now I had her whole body under my command. I moved her head again so I could kiss her more deeply. I pulled her ass harder against my cock and held it there with my hand on her crotch. Her torso was stretched out across me like a living invitation, like a sex-guitar that I could tune however I wanted.

The little details of her vagina—the folds, the textures—slowly revealed themselves to my fingers. She gasped, and the sound was loud in the hall. She ripped open her anguished blouse, tearing off a button or two in her haste.

A door opened behind of us, voices around the corner.

“We have to get to my apartment,” I said.

“Don’t stop…”

We stopped a little. My door was just up the hall, and by the time the voices reached the elevator and paused (I glanced back, two men were staring at us), I had my key in the door and swung it open.

We scooted in, still clinched, and I kicked the door closed. Then I went to town on her pussy. While she shivered and tried to hold herself up, her ass rubbed my dick through two layers of denim, and I didn’t care if it hurt. I held her mouth locked against mine, so I could feel her little gasps, and taste her breath. She pulled her blouse down her shoulders and popped the front clasp on her bra, letting everything hit the floor.

I had glanced down Emmeline’s blouse innumerable times. A girl who dresses as casually as Emmeline will give great accidental views through the day, whenever she opens a low drawer, or scratches an ankle, or even just picks her phone off a desk. I’d done an extensive survey of every slope of her breasts, as well as her nipples every now and then (always good to make me drop out of the conversation for five minutes or so)—but I’d never had a lasting, unobstructed,
lover’s
view of her magnificent chest.

My eyes drank her in.

High breasts, jutting from the top of her ribcage. Crinkly hard nipples pointed at the ceiling. Delicate veins under the skin, which was flushed and blotchy from arousal. I wanted to touch them, but I also didn’t want to move my hands from where they were. I had Emmeline under my control, and I’d never steered a girl like this before. I didn’t want to stop.

Still kissing me, she yanked open her jeans and pulled them off her hips. I glanced past her breasts to her hands—and saw something in the main room.

My fucking roommates.
All three of them, sitting frozen on the sofa. Staring at us in silence.

“Um,” I said.

Emmeline turned her face to them. “Oh. Ha-ha. Yep.”

And then a very revealing thing happened.

Emmeline’s pussy was in my hand. As her eyes went from one disreputable, shady face to the next, her pussy flushed in my hand. What other word would suffice? She immediately got three times wetter, so I went from holding a girl’s pussy to holding something like a warm sponge soaked in rosewater.
She is turned on by this,
I realized, a bit slowly. My mind wasn’t at its sharpest just then.

Emmeline made a move to cross her arm over her breasts, to cover them. I took her hand and held the arm down, and she let me. She didn’t try to cover with the other arm. She was giving me implicit permission. I even felt her shoulders move back, and her chest inflate, and her stomach suck in. She repositioned herself to make her chest seem bigger and her stomach flatter.

This happened in just a few seconds so I couldn’t process all the information I was receiving. I barely had enough presence of mind to keep my fingers moving in her crotch.

“I’m so sorry, guys,” Emmeline said breathlessly. “Trapper didn’t tell me you were here.”

“I didn’t remember,” I said.

“You were occupied,” Saul pointed out. “You still might be.”

Andy’s cell phone flashed.
He took a picture of us!
I hadn’t even noticed he had it out. As soon as she realized he had taken a picture, her pussy flooded again. If I pulled my hand out now, it would be dripping in the open air. This was too much for me to think about.

“Andy, you can’t take pictures,” I said belatedly.

“Too late!” He held his phone up. “You are my latest Facebook status.”

F
or a moment
I didn’t believe him. Putting a naked picture of a girl online, without her permission, was tantamount to… I didn’t want to think about it. That asshole would be seeing jail time in the near future.

“Are you fucking shitting me?” I screamed. “I’m throwing you out the window!”

I tried to let go of Emmeline but she clamped my hand between her legs and held onto me with both arms.

“Don’t get in a fight over this,” she whispered fiercely. “I don’t care. I really don’t care.”

My idiot roommates missed this, because they were laughing.

“Shared to my wall!” Saul said, holding his own phone.

Fred, meanwhile, took another picture of Emmeline. She saw him aiming, and imperceptibly arched her chest towards him. I wouldn’t have noticed except that she was draped across my body, and my entire body at that point was a huge sex organ more sensitive than the head of my cock. Every minor twitch she made registered with me and turned me on more.

I felt like the situation was veering out of control. I had to get us out of there. I said, “We’ll talk about this later, assholes.”

I pulled Emmeline sideways down the hall and out of view, snagging her bra with my shoe. In a moment I had her in my room where we finally broke our embrace. I tried to lock my door but my pussy-drenched hand kept slipping on the handle. By the time I solved that minor puzzle Emmeline was completely naked and throwing books, clothes, and old pizza boxes off my bed.

“You look amazing holding my trash,” I said.

She laughed. “You should see me with your junk.”

“You were really calm out there. I apologize for my roommates.”

She turned to me, kneeling fetchingly on my bed. “That was… surprising. I don’t know how I feel about it. I’m glad you didn’t get in a fight with them.”

“I felt how excited you were when they took your picture,” I said. I held up my hand.

She looked down. “If you say so.”

“Tell me about it,” I urged. “Don’t hold back. I want to know everything you feel.”

“Even if it makes me sound sleazy?”

“
Especially
is if makes you sound sleazy.”

Emmeline might have been comfortable getting naked in my apartment, but I was self-conscious getting naked in front of her. To buy a little time and courage, I crossed the room and took her in my arms.

She lay back against me, stretched across my body, like she had done in the hallway. In time, I would learn that that was one of her
things
. She liked to be stretched out at a man’s mercy, and completely open with herself. Her elongated, bare torso invited me to lay hands on her—so I did. They glided lightly over her skin, exploring all the curves I’d memorized while I was friend-zoned. The ribs, the muscular clefts of her stomach, the v-shaped muscle pointing to her crotch. The breasts were waiting for my touch—but you don’t just grab breasts like hers. You work up to them.

“
E
very now and
then I play a game with myself,” she said. “When I’m going somewhere, like to a friend’s dorm, or to a meeting, I pause before I open the door. I think to myself, what if I had to have sex with whoever is on the other side of that door? Could I do it? Could I walk in and fuck them?”

“Wow,” I said. “I don’t think I’ve ever played that game with myself.”

“I don’t know how I started. I think it girl-talk at summer camp. Every now and then I remember it, and I make pretend decision about whether I’ll fuck whoever is on the other side of the door. And then I walk in.

“It’s always a rush to see who I’d be fucking if the game was real. Especially if it’s a group of guys. That’s scary for girls sometimes, because they always look you up and down. They know each other, they’re buddies, they have secret signals—and you just know they’re somehow communicating about you. And you wonder which one is going to be the rapey, inappropriate asshole—there’s always one in each group. You try to neutralize them first, by getting them on your side. There’s a whole procedure.

“But if I’ve already decided to fuck whoever is on the other side, I can just return those looks they give me. It gets us through that uncomfortable period when they get used to looking at me, and I get used to being looked at by them.”

That was the first time Emmeline had even come close to acknowledging she knew how beautiful she was. I suppose she’d have to know. The world gave her constant feedback.

When women mention how men make their lives difficult, it always leaves me tongue-tied. “Have… have you ever, uh, done that? Walked in and fucked a group of guys?”

She gave me an ungentle slap on the shoulder. “No, I’ve never just walked into a room and fucked a bunch of strangers. You ass.”

“But it’s fun to think about?”

Her eyes dropped meekly. I slid my hand down to her crotch.

“Don’t try to lie, I have a lie-detector here.”

“It’s fun to think about,” she said, and indeed she was getting wet. “But until today I didn’t know… I guess I wasn’t sure… I hadn’t thought about it.”

“About guys looking at you?”

“Yeah,” she said quietly.

“Does it turn you on?”

She gave a little shrug. “I guess. I certainly didn’t care that your roommates saw me. I didn’t mind the pictures. Or even the Facebook thing. I was just stunned that I was about to have an orgasm in your hand, just from seeing them
look
at me. I mean what the fuck, girl? What’s wrong with my wiring? Why can’t I go
eek
like a good girl, and try to cover up?”

“You are a good girl.”

“Apparently I’m a kind of pervert.” She glanced up at me. “Don’t grin. I’m still dealing with this new knowledge. I don’t know what it means. I think I always sort of knew, but now I really
know
. I thought maybe every girl was like me, and they just controlled their feelings better.”

“You just like being perfect, Emmy. And you like people to think you’re perfect. Look at it this way: having an easy turn-on button is another way you are perfect. It’s your way of being awesome. Your killer app. Give yourself a chance to get used to the idea. You’re going to have a lot of fun with it.”

As encouraging speeches went, this was not my best work. But give me a break. In one hour I’d gone from talking a friend into promising to wear short dresses, to making that friend into a girlfriend, to finger-banging her in the hallway of my building, to showing her off to my roommates, to cuddling her naked on my bed while she engaged in some sort of psychology session. None of those activities allowed any blood to
leave
my cock, so I was thinking with the B Team.

Still, she seemed a little comforted, until— “Trapper! You pulled my hand down when I tried to cover my chest! You showed me off to those guys, didn’t you? That was your first instinct—to keep me from covering myself up. We’re going to have to talk about that later.”

“Erm,” I said. Apparently I would have a psychology session of my own, soon.

She glanced up. “They didn’t really put me on Facebook, did they?”

“You don’t know my roommates,” I said grimly. “I’m sure they did. Are you pissed?”

“I don’t mind,” she said stolidly. Then brightened. “Those pictures get flagged right away. They’ll be gone in an hour. They’re inappropriate.”

“Highly inappropriate, based on how we were interrupted. But probably awesome.”

“We need a copy of those pictures,” she said suddenly. “Before they’re yanked offline.”

I pulled my laptop out of a pile of clothes next to my bed.

There followed an uncomfortable silence when the computer woke and displayed a dozen windows full of porn. Emmeline gave an amused snort as I frantically closed all of them before they could start moving and groaning at us.

With the girls dismissed, I opened up my Facebook page—and there I was.
Twice.
My fucking roommates had even tagged me so it would show up with my name. And it would show up to my Facebook friends. Why did I always friend my professors? Shit—my older brothers! My Dad!
My Mom!

Not that anyone would recognize me. I was just a blank, surprised face half covered by Emmeline’s brunette hair.

Emmeline herself was stretched out across me. The picture caught the muscular definition of her arms and shoulders. Her stomach was pure revelation; you could see the ripple of her muscles. Her legs were splayed to the side to hold her up, and her jeans sagged below her hips. My hand in her panties looked degenerate and dirty—and fucking sexy as hell. Presiding majestically over the whole amazing landscape were a pair of the best tits I’d ever seen on that computer screen, better than most porn tits for sure. They were symmetrical, round, high on her chest, and not small in any sense. They jutted out, heavy and tempting, with sky-pointed nipples. And she directly faced the camera, a little smile on her lips.
Proof that she had been aware of the camera before the picture.