The Boyfriend Experience

By

Michaela’s
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Stephen knew the lighting of these halls
well. He’d come to recognize the quality of a place by just the
corridors – the stark walls, the simple gray carpet, the porcelain
wall sconces casting geometric light. Every floor was the same. He
stood outside the elevator of the seventh floor and straightened
himself. He was nervous.

The client was in room 7114. He walked past
silent doors, his black leather shoes, freshly shined, silent on
the pristine carpet. He’d pulled his best suit out for this
evening, grey and perfectly tailored. He’d padded his pocket with a
kerchief to match the silk tie, both a dark purple – the client’s
favorite color, if he remembered correctly.

He read the next door as he passed – 7110.
He was getting close. He tried to ignore the knot in his stomach.
Just a few more steps and he was standing outside her door. He
raised his hand to knock, and stopped to arrange himself one more
time, for good measure – buttons set, kerchief square, tie
straight. He ran his hands over the back of his hair, freshly shorn
for the occasion. For this woman he would arrive in peak condition.
This client expected no less.

He rapped his knuckle against the door and
listened. After a moment there was a soft shuffle inside. He
swallowed.

The door opened to an empty room, wide
enough for him to enter, but she was nowhere to be seen. He stepped
inside to find her hiding behind the door and met her eyes as she
shut it behind him. There she was. Just as he remembered her.

Martina’s hair hung in ringlets over her
shoulders, darker now, and time had settled gracefully at the
corners of her eyes. Yet her face was soft, her smile warm. She
stood a few inches shorter than him, her figure hugged at every
inch by a sleeveless purple cocktail dress. She’d taken as much
care as he had, the dress pressing her breasts to a soft mound at
the edge of the fabric. He’d remembered the color exactly.

He scooped an arm around her waist and
pulled her against him to kiss her cheek.

“Happy Birthday, sweetheart.”

She beamed at him. He ran his hands down her
back, trying to hide his nerves with steady hands.

“You remembered!”

“Of course. You’re my favorite…”

He stopped himself before the word ‘client’
could pass his lips. Though she’d never minded the term, he’d come
to consider it in poor taste when working with her. She wasn’t like
other clients. Most women who sought The Boyfriend Experience
wanted a man to stifle loneliness with, followed by mindless sex.
This woman wasn’t lonely, nor was she mindless. She was passionate,
she was fun, and he had been a birthday present to herself for five
years now. When he told her she was his favorite, it was the
truth.

“When I find a man who can do what you do
for free, I’ll marry him. Until then, I’ll pay the toll, thank you
very much,” she’d said after their second encounter. Perhaps that’s
why he enjoyed her as much as he did, and why his stomach was in
knots.

She pressed her hand to the lapel of his
jacket and sighed. “Dear god you look good.”

He drew close to her lips, ready to break
the barrier that existed between them, between any two people who
have similar intentions. She laughed and pulled out of his grasp,
shyly. A smile burned his cheeks.

She walked across the suite in her bare feet
to a white counter, and retrieved a drink she’d been nursing. She
mimed to him that he was free to partake as she sipped clumsily.
Unlike him, she wasn’t concerned with hiding her nerves.

“So what would you like to do tonight,
beautiful?”

She grinned and set her drink back down.

“I could happily spend the evening listening
to you call me that. Repeatedly.”

“It’s your birthday, whatever you like,” he
said before adding with a smirk, “beautiful.”

She fidgeted for a moment, visibly searching
for the courage to say something. Finally, she found it, and
planted her hands on her hips.

“It seems like such a fucking waste not to
take you out and show you off – god you look fucking good - but I
think I really just want you to - uh...”

Her tone was confident, but she faltered. He
knew once she was comfortable she’d have no problem saying exactly
what she wanted.

“Want me to what?”

She glanced at the clock. “It’s seven now.
When do I have you til?”

“Whenever you like.”

“Oh, cut the Boyfriend crap. What time?”

“Ten’o’clock.”

She pursed her lips. “Yeah, I think I want
to stay in. I have a year’s worth to catch up on, if you know what
I mean.”

He smiled despite the butterflies in his
stomach. The year before she’d made him go to a show, and the year
before that she’d made him take her dancing, and just about every
year he’d taken her to a birthday dinner. Despite looking forward
to their bedroom activities all night, he now longed for those
hours of preparation, of flirtation to quell the nerves that a man
like him shouldn’t have. She truly was his favorite, and he looked
forward to her every year.

He swallowed and stepped toward her. “Well,
what kind of night is it, then?

She raised an eyebrow. “What do you
mean?”

“Are you in a ‘slut’ kind of mood, or a
‘sweet girl’ kind of mood?”

She visibly shivered before she spoke. “Can
it be both?”

She gave a mischievous smile and covered her
mouth.

He nodded. “Of course.”

He took another step.

“Stop,” she said, her hand out before her.
He did as she asked. She cocked one hip to the side and took a
breath. “Tell me what you want to do to me.”

His mouth fell open and he stared. This was
new.

“You wouldn’t rather I show you?”

“Oh, believe me, you’ll show me. I want to
hear you say it first.”

He could hear the confidence building in her
voice and he liked it.

“I want to tear that dress off of you and
-”

“Don’t you dare tear this dress, it’s my
favorite color.”

He laughed. “I know it is and it’s
beautiful, but I’d much rather see it on the floor -”

“I would kill you if you tore this
dress.”

“That’s good to know -”

“In the street. Murder you.”

“Do you want to know what I want to do to
you or would you rather just kill me now?”

She smiled and came to him, surprising him
as she took hold of the buttons of his jacket, gently unbuttoning
him and running her hands across his stomach to his sides. He
leaned in to embrace her. She stopped him.

“No, you keep your hands to yourself,” she
said, pressing her cheek to his jaw. Her hands played across his
chest, her fingers slipping under the fabric of the shirt. She ran
the tip of her nose along his jaw, inhaling deeply. He groaned.

“Not sure if I can.”

She pulled away just enough to meet his gaze
and gave him a flirtatiously stern look. “You better. Keep your
hands to yourself and tell me exactly what you want to do to
me.”

She took hold of his tie and loosened it
before sliding his jacket down off his shoulders. Before he could
find words, she pressed herself to his neck and began kissing him
as she unbuttoned his shirt.

“I want to get you out of that dress – in a
manner that is respectful to the dress’ feelings obviously -” he
felt her teeth graze his shoulder, a playful bite as punishment for
his wiseass comment. He let his hands fall at her hips and held
them steady despite the rising need to explore her. “- then I want
to put my mouth all over those gorgeous breasts of yours.”

She unbuttoned his shirt, pulling the shirt
tails free of his trousers and was now pulling it down his bare
arms with a hint more desperation. When the shirt was halfway down
his arms, she pulled it taut, pinning his elbows to his sides.

“How gorgeous, exactly?”

“The most gorgeous and perfect pair I’ve
ever encountered.”

“Correct answer.”

He smiled. “I thought it might be.”

She let the shirt fall to the floor before
pulling his undershirt up. Her movements grew more forceful, more
intent with each passing second. He felt the satin of her dress
graze over his stomach as she kissed his chest. He wanted to feel
her tongue on him, wanted to kiss her, but he would let her have
her way. The anticipation had long drawn a reaction. He felt almost
shy at the thought of her discovering how hard he was. He felt the
heat of her mouth as she let her tongue travel across his chest to
his nipple. His breath caught in his throat and he let himself grab
hold of her hair. She rose to her full height and met his gaze,
letting her open mouth draw close to his. Yet she didn’t kiss him.
Her lips grazed his, and she flicked her tongue against his upper
lip, but still she did not kiss him. His grip tightened in her hair
and he wrapped his arm around her waist, running his hand up to
find the zipper. A moment later, her dress fell open and he ran his
hand across the clasp of her bra and the bare skin of her back.

“Then what?” She barely breathed her words
into his mouth and smiled.

He groaned. “I’m going to punish you for
teasing me.”

She giggled and squirmed against him. “I’m
not teasing you. I’m totally going to put out.”

He smirked, took her by the hair and slid
his tongue into her open mouth. Her whole body responded to him as
she kissed him back, a soft whimper sounding in her throat. He
walked her backward toward the bed and let her fall onto it,
smiling up at him. His cock pressed hard against the fabric of his
trousers, he felt relief to be free of them. She slid out of the
straps of her dress and pushed it down over her hips, kicking it
away from the bed. He looked down at the dress, frowning.

“I think you may have offended it,
love.”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

Those words drew a wicked chuckle and he
lowered himself down onto her, letting her feel how hard she made
him. He held himself there, moving against her as her legs fell
apart. Again she whimpered and he stifled her cries with his
lips.

She clutched him, dragging her nails down
his back. He knew if he moved in the right rhythm there, she would
succumb. Still he knew other ways that were far more enticing. He
stripped her of her bra, but she pulled him onto her before he
could properly appreciate her breasts. He let her tongue play at
his open lips until pressing his mouth to hers and driving his
tongue inside. She convulsed at the sensation, her hands reaching
for his backside where she grabbed him and pulled him against her
firmly. He groaned. She snapped the waistband of his boxers,
startling him.

“Take them off.” He met her eyes and smiled
before slipping down to her breasts, clamping his mouth over her
nipple. She ran her fingers through his hair and stifled a cry with
her other hand. He flicked his tongue against the hardening flesh
before sucking gently. She loved this. He languidly shifted to her
other breast, letting her squirm under him, her ankle running up
the length of his thigh. She hooked her feet behind him and gave a
tug, letting him know exactly what she wanted. He lifted himself up
to stand at the foot of the bed, looking down at her as he pulled
his boxers down and let them fall to the floor. She growled
appreciatively. He rose to his full height and was startled by her
sudden movement as she pushed herself to the edge of the bed and in
one graceful movement, took him in her mouth.

His breath caught as he watched his flesh
disappear beyond those soft pink lips. Her eyes were closed to him,
as though the act itself were causing her ecstasy. He was too big
to disappear completely, but the warmth of her mouth sent shudders
through him. He took hold of her hair, wanting to get lost in the
sensation, but knowing better than to do so.

“Sweetheart,” he started, but the words
broke off as she slid her tongue over him to the sensitive skin of
his balls, lapping at them as she took hold of him with a firm yet
gentle hand, running her fingers over the ridge at the head of his
cock. She groaned softly as she sucked at him, finally meeting his
gaze. She took a breath and blew gently against his wet skin. He
gave a broken exhale and smiled. He felt the sense that he should
stop her – it was her birthday after all, it was her time. He was
supposed to be pleasing her, not the other way around. Yet as these
thoughts drifted through, she closed her lips around the head of
his cock and sucked gently. He sighed and let his head fall back.
He felt her tongue flitting against him inside her mouth as she
moved to take him deeper. He gently pulled her, shuddering as he
felt his cock nudge the back of her throat. Martina released,
taking a deep breath. Stephen lowered himself onto her before she
could return to her work. He wasted no time, hooking his fingers
under the waistband of her underwear and tugging at them, his
intention clear. She shifted on the bed and laughed nervously, her
hands covering the dark patch of hair as he pulled the panties free
from her ankles. She touched his bare chest and sought his lips,
kissing him as he positioned himself over her. She lifted herself
to keep his lips to hers as though breaking from him would be
painful. He kissed her firmly enough to press her down into the
pillow, letting her hold him there a moment. He knew what she was
doing, and when he slid his hand down across her stomach, her hands
shot down to cover herself. Every year, the same shy response.
Every time. He smiled.