The Face-Painter Ch. 12

I handed her the phone. "Here, take a look at that." I watched her eyes grow wide as she read. She stopped for a second and looked at me in surprise, and then I could tell she was re-reading it a second time.

"This," she said, pointing to the phone, "this is you?"

I nodded.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" she asked loudly, and then, thoroughly embarrassed at the volume in which she'd spoken, she looked nervously around before hunkering down and whispering to me across the table, "This is really you?"

Again, I nodded.

"You're an escort?"

"Uh, yes and no."

"What do you mean, yes and no?"

"I put that ad out and met someone who responded, but it only happened one time. I pulled the ad after that one time."

"Did something bad happen?" she asked, and I could see she was genuinely concerned about my welfare.

"No, it was fantastic actually. But, you know my friend Andy, right?" Deanna nodded. "I ended up telling him about it and he thought I was nuts—not for wanting to do it, but because of all the risks I was taking with all the whack-jobs out there. The more I thought about it, the more I thought he was right."

"He is right. This is Las Vegas—is there even one sane person in this whole town?"

We both smiled at that. I saw her look down at my phone and re-read my ad once more. She then looked up at me, a confused look on her face. "And you're showing me this...why?"

"Well, like I said, that one time I met someone, it was great. I loved it...she loved it." I paused for a second. She was listening intently, and I knew I had her full attention. "So this is where you come in. I have to admit, just like you said—I love all women. I'd love to do more of this, but I also think it's best if I heed Andy's advice."

"You can't be serious?" she asked, shaking her head with a sarcastic smile on her face as if I was the stupidest idiot in the world.

"What?" I asked, holding my hands up in confusion.

"Your big business idea is to ask me to pay you $200 for sex?"

"No...no," I blurted out, waving my hands in exasperation. "I want you to help me find women who are willing to pay $200. Sane women, women you know I could trust not to go all 'Fatal Attraction' on me."

Deanna looked at me intently, the idea registering. "Let me get this straight—you want me to be your pimp?"

"Uh well...more like my business manager."

She smiled as she sat back. "So basically, your pimp."

"Uh...well...yeah, okay," I admitted, like a teenage boy caught licking his mother's panties.

"And why exactly did you think of me for this illustrious position?" she asked, barely able to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

"Because of what you said at the shop yesterday. You said that a lot of the women that came in there were eyeing me up, and that if you had a horse farm you'd rent me out for stud service. Were you bullshitting me? It didn't seem that way when you were saying it."

Deanna looked across the table at me, and I could see it finally dawn on her that I wasn't fucking around with her. "No, I wasn't bullshitting you when I said that. I've seen the way all those women look at you."

"And I know the clientele you get in your shop is pretty high-end. Most of those women are pretty well-off, right?"

"That's an understatement," she replied flippantly, looking down at my ad once more. "Most of them love to spend that money their husbands shower them with. So this is how much you charge? $200?"

"Uh, $200 per load." I felt a little embarrassed talking so frankly, but if Deanna and I were going to work together, I wanted to be totally up front about everything.

"So that's how much you made from that one encounter you had?"

"Uh, no. I made $400."

"$400?"

"Yeah. She liked it so much, she offered to pay for additional services right away."

"So you and she...uh...twice?" Deanna asked, holding up two fingers.

"Well, twice that she paid for."

"What do you mean?"

"The second time was so great that I stayed for a while longer, but I didn't charge her after that."

"I see," she said with a smile on her face. "A hooker with a heart of gold, eh?" I simply shrugged, which seemed to just pique her curiosity. "So, besides those two times that she paid for, how many more times did you...uh...?" Deanna seemed to be searching for the appropriate words.

"Paint her face?" I interrupted.

"Uh...yeah."

"Three more times," I replied flatly.

"THREE MORE TIMES!" Deana blurted out, and then looked around again to make sure no one had heard her outburst.

"Yes."

"And how...how long were you there?"

"Altogether, probably about three hours."

"Jesus Christ." Deanna slumped back in her seat and looked at me like I was some kind of alien or something. "You came five times while you were with her?" she asked, an incredulous expression on her face.

"Uh...yes."

She looked down at the wording in my ad once more. She pointed to the cell phone, her voice and finger both quivering now. "And this...this description of your...your..."

"Cock?" I interrupted again.

"Yes. Your cock and...and the number of times you shoot when you climax. That...that's really true too?"

"Yes."

"Oh fuck," she said quietly as she put the cell phone down on the table and slid it across to me. I sat calmly, waiting for her to speak. I could really see the wheels spinning around like crazy in her head now.

"And you charged that woman $200 a pop?"

"Yeah. I thought that would be about right."

She shook her head in dismay and then grabbed a crayon out of the little plastic cup. "If that description of yourself is accurate—"

"It is," I interrupted again, nodding to make sure she knew once again I wasn't fucking with her.

"Okay. Then this is how much you should be charging." She reached forward with the crayon and quickly scribbled a figure on the paper tablecloth: $1,000.

"Are you nuts?" I asked, shaking my head in astonishment. "Who would pay that much?"

"The women that come to my salon—that's who," Deanna replied, sitting back and looking proud of herself.

"You're kidding, right?" I asked, pointing to the figure she'd written.

"If you are like you say you are in that ad, those women would gladly pay that much. Trust me—I know what they're like."

Just then Matthew arrived with our food. We both sat back as he placed our salads in front of us and the wings between us. When he asked if we needed anything else, we both shook our heads emphatically, and I could see that Deanna was as interested as I was at getting back to the conversation at hand.

"Really? They'd really pay that much?" I asked once Matthew was safely out of earshot.

"Oh yeah. I know a few who wouldn't hesitate for a second to spend that kind of money. Especially on someone they could trust to be safe and discreet."

"Exactly!" I gushed out, a big smile spreading across my face.

"Okay," Deanna replied. "I'm starting to think you just might have something here."

"So, do you think we could do this?"

"Definitely. With some of the women I have in mind, it would be like taking a candy from a baby—but in this case, the baby would get just what they want too." She was certainly looking pleased with herself now, the disconcerted look she'd had a few minutes ago seeming to just vanish into the ether. I looked again at the astonishing figure she'd written down, finding it unbelievable that I would get paid that much for doing something I would have loved to do for free.

"If those women would pay that much, it's something that we would only need to do every once in a while. Like I said, I kind of started this as a bit of an adventure, and the little bit of extra money was just a bonus. If we did this, it'll help you out financially too. It popped into my head when you mentioned yesterday that you might have to get a second job to keep your apartment."

"What kind of financial arrangement did you have in mind?"

"Uh gee, I don't know. I'm not used to this kind of thing. What do you think?"

"Well, since I'm going to be the one putting this idea out there to these women, and seeing the kind of things they want from you, I don't know...how about $700 for you and $300 for me?"

"That sounds great!" $700 bucks sound absolutely perfect to me. I thrust out my hand, "Deal?"

"Deal," she said, reaching across and shaking firmly.

With that out of the way, we both dug into our salads. We were both higher than a kite, and the conversation flowed freely. I quizzed Deanna about some of the women she had in mind, and the more she told me about the wealthy attractive MILFs, the more excited I got thinking about all the possibilities. The idea must have sat well with her, because she polished off a few more wings than the 'couple' she had originally anticipated. I felt fantastic and it was nice to look across and see the happiness on Deanna's face. For her sake almost as much as mine, I hoped our idea worked out and the extra money would help her get everything she wanted. Well, hopefully it would at least let her keep her apartment.

We finished up and I had just paid young Matthew for our meal when Deanna said something that kind of surprised me. "Connor, look—I know this has just been a business dinner..." We both had a little chuckle at that "...but I think there's one more thing we need to do in order to move forward."

"What's that?"

"Well, I'm not really sure how to say this, so I'll just come right out with it—for me to recommend you to these women, I think I'm going to have to, shall we say, 'sample the merchandise' first hand?"

A sly grin spread over my face. "Okay, I get it. I can understand that. It would be like a car salesman recommending a car when he's never driven it himself?"

"Exactly," she replied, nodding her head up and down eagerly. "But remember, it would just be for business purposes, okay?"

"Of course...of course, nothing more than that. I understand. When did you have in mind?"

She looked pensive for a few seconds, but I knew exactly what she was going to say. "Well, uh...how about right now? My place isn't far from here."

"Sure," I replied. "I've got nothing else planned tonight."

"Was everything alright, sir?" Hot Stuff asked as we passed the hostess' station on our way out.

"It couldn't have been better," I replied, giving her a saucy little wink.

"Feel free to come back any time." She gave me a beaming smile and subtly turned her upper body, making sure I saw the way those big soft breasts of hers shifted beneath her t-shirt. In my semi-aroused state, there was no way I was going to miss something like that. When I looked back up, I gave her another wink, letting her know I knew exactly what she meant.

"I saw that," Deanna said, playfully elbowing me in the ribs once we got outside.

"What?"

"Connor, you are such a slut."

"But I might be a well-paid slut, right?"

"Well, we'll have to see about that. I need to check out what I'm selling first." She gave me a mischievous smile as we approached the car. I held the door open as Deanna slid into Sally, drawing her nice jean-clad legs in one after the other. The sexy high-heeled sandals she wore looked deliciously saucy with her jeans, and as I looked down at her from the side of the car, I caught a glimpse of her inviting cleavage and a lacy red bra, almost the same color as her blouse. Jesus, she looked good.

We made idle chit-chat as we drove the short distance to her house. My mind was elsewhere, wondering if she was just going to inspect my dick like an army doctor—"Bend over and cough, Private"—or whether this was going to be a hell of a lot more fun than that. As I looked over at her cute figure and sexy curly hair, I hoped for the latter.

"This is the place," Deanna said, ushering me into her apartment. It was a nice building and she was on the 8th floor with a pretty decent view of the city. She gave me a quick tour of the two-bedroom flat, and I could tell by the finishes and the location that this was something that wasn't usually affordable to the average hairdresser. 'Maybe to a hairdresser who was also a pimp', I thought to myself as a smile crossed my face.

"Nice place. I can see why you don't want to leave here," I said as we returned to the living room.

"Yeah, I like it," she replied, settling herself into an easy chair and tossing her curly hair from one side of her head to the other. It definitely caught my attention. "If this idea of yours works out, I can probably keep this place. I'd love that."

"I hope so too." I sat on the couch opposite her. "So, uh...how do you want to do this?"

"Well, I've been thinking—some of these women are going to want you to come to their homes, and then they'll probably tell you specifically what they want you to do. Remember, a lot of these women are used to getting what they want, especially when they're paying for it."

"That's fine with me."

"So, I think it might be best if I was just to pretend I was one of them. Of course, like I said, this would just be almost in the clinical sense, to check out the product I'm promoting."

"Sort of like product testing?" I asked teasingly, getting the idea this was going exactly where I hoped.

"Exactly—product testing." Deanna eagerly nodded, agreeing with the term I'd thrown out there to see how she'd respond. I could already feel my prick swelling in my shorts.

"Okay, how do you want to start testing the product?"

"Uh well, okay. If I was one of those women, I'd probably ask you to get undressed."

Without saying another word, I pulled off my desert boots and socks, and then stood up to take off my shirt. I kept my eyes locked on Deanna as I slowly undid the buttons and peeled off my shirt, watching her gaze shift to my defined pecs and tight stomach. I could see her looking at my muscular torso longingly as I tossed the shirt aside. I purposely spread my feet slightly apart, giving myself a more imposing stance as I stepped right in front of her. I brought both hands to the waistband of my jeans. I seductively undid my belt, popped open the button and held the open flap with one hand while I reached for the zipper with the other.

ZZZZZZZIPPPPPPPP...

I slowly, teasingly, drew the zipper downwards, exposing my toned abs and white fitted boxers. Her eyes were locked on my midsection as I pulled the flaps of my jeans open and deftly pushed them down, stepping out of them and tossing them aside next to my shirt. I could feel my heavy dick stiffening beneath the soft white fabric of my underwear, the bulbous head starting to lift and strain against the confining material.

"You...you should probably rub yourself through your underwear," Deanna said, her hungry eyes never leaving my growing package. I could tell that, at this point, she was asking me to do what she wanted me to do, the ruse of pretending she was a potential client tossed aside like a losing lottery ticket.

With my feet spread about shoulder-width apart, I reached down and circled my fingers around the stiffening slab of flesh. I gave it a gentle squeeze as my fingers wrapped around it through the white fabric, and then provocatively slid my gripping hand back and forth. I could feel my prick respond instantly, blood pulsing into my midsection and up the veiny shaft. I flicked my eyes from looking at her captivated face down to my crotch, my lengthening shaft expanding beneath my cotton shorts. The brilliant white of the fabric gave off teasing shadows as the knob became engorged and headed towards the waistband, aching for freedom.

"I...uh...I...I think you should take your underwear off now," Deanna gasped out breathlessly, her shaking hand gesturing towards my stiffening loins. I hooked my fingers in the top of my underwear and slowly pushed down. The taut waistband caught for a second or two on the massive head, and then I pushed harder, allowing the enflamed crown to pop into view.

"Aahhh!" I heard Deanna give off a sharp intake of breath as the engorged knob popped forth, the scarlet head hotly enflamed, the deep purple ridge of the corona looking like a beautiful speed-bump for a pair of needy lips or hungry cunt. I shimmied my hips as I pushed downward, letting my underwear drop to the floor and kicking them aside.

"Oh fuck," she muttered under her breath as my stiffening cock arced up, lancing into the air before it came to rest, pointing upwards at about a 45-degree angle to my body. As I straightened up, my dick bobbed menacingly, a glistening drop of pre-cum pulsing to the surface. Freed from the restrained confines of my underwear, my cock quickly thickened and extended. Deanna watched, her face flushing with arousal as my prick grew right before her eyes, the pulsing blood coursing through me resulting in a full throbbing erection within just a few moments.

"Oh my God, it's huge," Deanna said, her eyes feasting on the site of my rock-hard cock. "Just hang on a second." She quickly got up and hurried into her bedroom. She was back within seconds, something white and ribbon-like clutched in her hand. She slid back into her chair and sat forward, opening her hand. She was holding a flexible tape measure, like women use for sewing.

"Part of product testing is to ensure you know the specifications of your product." She unfurled the tape measure and laid it along the top of my thrusting erection, the cold metal tab at the end pressed against the joint with my midsection. She drew the tape out and dropped it over the engorged tip, the flexible measuring device hanging downwards. She closely inspected the reading. "Just under 10 ½. Now, let's see how big it is around." Deanna quickly circled my rigid stick with the pliable tape before taking the reading of the circumference. "7 ¼...oh fuck!" She sat back and stared wide-eyed at my throbbing fuck-stick, mesmerized by the rhythmic bobbing as it pulsed with each beat of my heart, blood flowing powerfully up the veiny shaft.

"Maybe you should...uh...," she stammered, gesturing towards me, unsure of what she was trying to say. I could see she was flummoxed by the unexpected size of my cock.

"Jerk off for you?" I interrupted her again, knowing she needed my help with this bizarre situation. She quickly nodded, and I slowly brought my hand up to my stiff member. I circled my hand around it in a warm loving corridor and then started to stoke it. I did it provocatively, slowly moving my hand back and forth, sliding the velvety outer sheath teasingly back and forth over the iron-hard core. With Deanna watching, totally entranced, I stepped closer, the head of my cock now less than two feet away from her pretty face.

The strange situation was unlike anything I'd been part of before, and for some reason, I found it to be a tremendous turn-on. Here she was, sitting fully clothed and watching, as I stood before her, totally naked and jerking off for her amusement. I loved it. If this was what some of those rich women would want me to do—fucking sign me up!

Deanna's face was flushed, and I could see a fine sheen of perspiration on her forehead, her eyes never leaving my stroking hand. Pre-cum was oozing from the tip as I continued to jack-off, the slimy liquid glistening lewdly as a shimmering strand hung from the tip of my cock. "Do you think those rich women would like this?" I asked in a low lulling tone.

She simply nodded as she continued to stare hypnotically. I smiled as I saw her tongue run out instinctively and circle around her soft lips, making them glisten wetly. Seeing her do that had me right on the edge, and I decided not to hold off any longer.

"Do you think they'd want to see what this feels like on their faces?" I asked in that same lulling tone. Once again, her head slowly nodded up and down, her eyes locked on my stroking hand.

"Then just sit a little closer," I said, reaching around from the side with my other hand and sliding my fingers smoothly into her curls, and then gently pulling her head forward. She eagerly allowed me to move her, her upper body leaning forward as the enflamed head of my prick got closer and closer to her face.