Chapter 2 – Chapter 2
I heard the click of the office door behind me and went over to the chair I'd been sitting in in the reception room and dug the small duffle bag out from underneath it. I'd scouted out the men's room outside of the elevators on the floor when I'd first arrived, and I went there, stripped, and cleaned myself off with paper towels and water from the bank of sinks. I worked as quickly as I could. Eddie had said for me to get out of there as quickly as possible, and I certainly wanted to do that. I was exhausted. All I wanted was a beer and eight hours of sleep—in a very isolated place.
Shredded breakaway suit and shirt in hand, I looked around for the trash bin. Then I remembered that Eddie had told me not to leave anything like that behind either. Of course he was right. I stuffed them in the small duffel after taking out my jeans, T-shirt, and bikini briefs. An entirely different, completely casual look. I checked my face in the mirror to make sure nothing needed to be cleaned off and saw that my hands were trembling. I felt so numb that I hadn't known they were.
Out on the sidewalk, I looked up the side of the high rise, trying to pick out the window of the office where I'd been. I couldn't. I don't remember having looked out of the window of the office to get my bearings.
I laughed then, relieved by "mission accomplished."
Eddie had told me that these were good jobs and that they paid more because of the kinkiness of them. Other than the gun being pulled on me and stuck in my mouth, I had found it all very interesting and arousing.
His story had been a good one—if you take away Eddie having explained it all from the beginning. Not the gun, though. Certainly not the gun. And if you didn't know that this was the headquarters of a major insurance company and that the title "Insurance Agent" hadn't been stenciled on the man's door over his real name—Kenneth, not Carlos, Vendoza.
He'd almost had me fooled about being South American—not the drug cartel business, of course. That was over the top but really pretty hot, in its own way when matched with his Latin good looks and great body. And that dick, oolala, that magnificent dick. He'd only dropped the fake accent when we were heavy in the clutches and he'd lost control of what he was saying.
All in all a good fantasy category assignment. And a great fuck. If the guy contracted for another fantasy fuck, I'd be happy if Eddie signed me up—the guy had said he wanted to see me again. But no guns next time. That was almost too real. I would have shit my pants on that if I hadn't cleaned out real good before going there. And if I'd been wearing pants. And if he hadn't had my ass channel stuffed with his big, long cock.