Colby Jack
Copyright© 2026 by OmegaPet-58
Chapter 1
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Jack Colby is eating breakfast in a Miami hotel restaurant when a dispute between an elegant woman and a boor disturbs him. She's done with their commercial arrangement, he doesn't want to hear it, and before he can get violent, Jack intervenes and chases him off. Impulsively, Jack offers Renée a new deal which becomes a GFE, three letters new to him. He's skillful in bed, but lonely, surprising her.
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Oral Sex Prostitution
After a dark and stormy night, with heavy sheets of wind-driven rain battering my Miami hotel window and disrupting my sleep, I showered and dressed for breakfast.
My business in Florida was concluded, and I expected a slow, boring day prior to my afternoon flight back to Atlanta.
I rode the elevator down to the hotel’s nearly full restaurant, found a small table, and gratefully accepted a fresh cup of coffee.
“You’re Mr. Colby, aren’t you?” the server asked. I studied her for a second; she seemed familiar.
“Yeah, I am. I think I’ve seen you before, uh, Gina.” I smiled, although I had clearly picked up her name from the tag on her apron.
“If I remember, you’re scrambled eggs and wheat toast.”
“Only during breakfast, Gina. The rest of the time I’m a businessman. You’re right about my order, though.” I kept my voice light and a smile on my face.
“Coming right up!”
I pulled out and unfolded my Android to check the few individual stocks which I followed. When my breakfast arrived quickly, I thanked Gina.
Scrambled eggs and toast: that’s me, Jack Colby, the steely-eyed breakfast daredevil.
To be honest, during this trip I was going out of my way to be utterly ordinary: a frequent visitor to this four-star chain hotel. This was my usual practice when traveling to Miami; I didn’t want to attract attention.
Years earlier, I tired of needing bodyguards while traveling and being targeted for my wealth.
The name I travel under isn’t real. I stole it from a grocery store cheese label one bored afternoon. Colby Jack. Cute, harmless, forgettable. Perfect.
By spending a shocking amount of money, I created a false “Jack Colby” identity (including a driver’s license) that allowed me to travel freely “under the radar” without revealing my actual name.
As I scrolled my phone’s web browser, I became more and more aware of an argument happening behind me. I was in the middle of a row of six small tables, each one with two chairs. The chair immediately behind me was occupied by a woman with flowing black hair down over her shoulders and back. That’s just about all I could tell about her unless I twisted around or stood up.
The man she was sitting with kept getting louder, while her voice stayed calm and firm. I couldn’t ignore them, and I realized that the two of them had stayed in the hotel last night for, shall we say, commercial purposes? Apparently, he felt he’d paid enough—he gave a figure of a couple thousand dollars—to entitle him to receive “special attention” this morning from her as well.
After her fourth firm rejection, his hand flew out trying to slap her face.
She threw her head back so quickly she almost banged her head against mine.
She hissed, “You try that again and I’ll scream until you’re arrested. Look around, see where you are!”
My fork hit the plate with a loud clatter.
I stood up, shifting sideways to stay to the side of the woman and turning to face the asshole. Standing up pushed my chair away, adding a loud scraping noise.
I’ve found that when a six-foot-plus stranger in good shape stands up to face you, you take notice. It didn’t surprise me that the jerk I faced was pudgy, short, and red-faced with anger.
Using a deep voice, I growled, “Are you leaving, or do I need to help you find your way out?” He looked up in my face, finally.
He spat, “Who the fuck are you? Mind your business!” I wasn’t in the mood for his bullshit; I actually snarled at him.
“I’m the one who will hurt you until you leave. Now run along while you still can.”
He bristled and bitched some more. I heard rapid footsteps behind me. It was one of the managers heading toward us, phone already in hand, likely calling hotel security. Like Gina, we knew each other from my being a regular guest.
“Is there a problem, Mr. Colby?”
“I don’t believe so, Mr. Patel. This man is on his way out.” The angry man looked over the two of us, deflated, and shambled away. I assumed he stuck her with the bill.
“Oh, I’m paying for breakfast on these two tables, to be charged to my room, 1803.”
“Very good, Mr. Colby, I’ll take care of it.”
Mr. Patel departed for the hotel’s front desk. I rubbed my eyes, feeling last night’s sleepless hours. The noisy storm had left me fuzzy-headed and oddly impulsive. I just didn’t want to spend more time alone, tired, and irritable while waiting for my flight home. Sometimes the cure for exhaustion isn’t rest; it’s distraction. In those few moments, I thought about how terribly long it had been since I’d had any woman’s company.
Despite the disturbance, my new acquaintance stayed composed, her makeup undamaged and her clothes chosen to impress. I also picked up a scent, something expensive. I asked her to join me at my table.
“Thank you, Mr. Colby. I’m Renée, Renée Lamour, and I go by Ren.”
“Pleased to meet you, Ren, and please call me Jack. I have a couple more bites of my breakfast to finish. Do you want anything? Food, coffee? It’s my treat, of course.”
“Thanks, but I’m good.”
“Let me ask, now that the jerk is gone, do you have any other commitments set for the rest of this day and evening?” The question surprised me even as it came out, my usual shyness softened by exhaustion. I’d been wealthy long enough to realize that women (and even men) would feign attraction and fuss over me when it was my wallet that made me attractive to them. However, I was beyond tired of being so isolated.
Right now, what I wanted, what I needed, was company—uncomplicated, temporary, and requiring nothing from me but some money and basic courtesy. A transaction, yes, but an honest one.
“Um, no, Jack—I’m open.”
“Well, now you do have a commitment. I’ll pay triple what that guy said he paid for your exclusive time through ten in the morning tomorrow. Would that be OK?”
“Are you sure? I mean, yes, but...”
“Consider it done. Ren, I can afford it, and I want to spend more time with you and not have either of us watching the clock. I assume you have rules I will need to follow, and I will comply with all of them.”
“Wow. That sounds fine for me. I need to be absolutely clear, though. When I’m alone with you, Jack, it will mean more than simply ‘spending time’ together.”
“Before he left, that idiot was very clear about what happened last night between you and what he expected. I’m not thinking you’ll spend our time together knitting a sweater.”
“Knitting? That’s new, and very kinky, Jack.”
“I am shockingly conventional, Ren. I have no interest in anything involving needles. However, I insist on you being honest. Do you have a child or a pet to feed?”
“No, I won’t have any reason to interrupt our time.”
“Perfect. As you probably remember, my room is 1803. I’ll leave the door ajar so you can get your things from your previous room and join me up on the eighth floor. Deal?”
“Deal. I’ll see you in twenty minutes in 1803, Jack. And thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure.” I did something else—impulsively, I picked up her hand and kissed the back of it, causing Ren to giggle. I left her staring at her hand, and went off to the front desk to tell them I was staying another night. I asked for a second key to be coded for 1803. Also, no morning housekeeping visit on this day.
Upstairs in my room, I canceled my flight reservation. The door pushed open twenty minutes later. Renée walked in, scanned the room once, and sat on the edge of the armchair. She looked professional, composed, and only a little out of place in this hotel.
“How did he hire you?”
She gave me a name and a phone number. I called the agency, gave them the name, and booked her time through 10:00 a.m. tomorrow. I paid their fee over the phone with a “Jack Colby” credit card that could not be linked to my true identity.
“The agency fee is covered,” I said, hanging up. “Now for you.” I used my private and secret banking arrangements to instantly and securely deposit money for her. (When you have millions in deposits, bankers can be very helpful.)
“Check your account.”
She did. Her eyebrows shot up. She looked at me, then back at the screen, saying, “This is more than we talked about.”
She tucked the phone into her bag and stood.
Her professional mask slipped, just a bit. “You’re a strange man, Jack.”
“I’m a different man.”
“Well, since we’ve ruled out knitting and needles, what’s the plan? Strip poker? Or should we just skip the cards?”
“I’m excited to see your body, Ren.”
Recognizing my impatience, she said, “Of course. Let’s undress together.” She finished before I did, surprising me. I was still dealing with my shirt buttons when she walked nearly nude to the closet and hung up her dress, then made a neat pile of her lace bra and panties.
All that remained on her body were stockings and a tiny belt to hold them up.
“Stockings on or off?”
“Off, please.” She crossed to the bed and sat next to me, making a bit of a show out of pulling the stockings down and off each leg.
When she was finished and completely nude, she offered to hang up both pieces of my suit. I took pleasure in watching her facing the closet and fiddling with the hangers; her backside fascinated me.
She looked back over her shoulder and challenged me.
“You’re an ass man?”
“I’m guilty. From this perspective, you’re perfect. You must be exercising every day.”
“Yeah, I do use my gym membership. What about you? You’re not the typical businessman with a potbelly from eating too much restaurant food.”
“I swim laps to stay in shape.”
“It must be a big pool for that kind of swimming. I can picture you waltzing across the patio in a little Speedo and attracting a lot of attention.”
“Um, thanks. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get started. Come up on this bed, please, and lie on your back with your legs spread. That’s right, just relax and let me entertain you.”
From earlier in my life, I’d been coached directly and in detail on what I should be doing with my tongue and fingers. Ren’s inner lips were easily seen, and I began by rubbing my tongue up and down on both sides of each lip.
At the top where the inner lips drew together to form a little clit garage, I used indirect pressure to arouse the little bump. I pushed the whole structure from side to side, and Ren couldn’t conceal her reactions.
“J-Jack, that’s delicious, but you don’t have to, to—”
I backed off enough to speak clearly.
“Shh. Your reactions turn me on. Just enjoy what I’m doing.”
“Uh, OK.”
I noticed new stiffness in her clit and brought my fingers into the mix. Two fingers slipped into her vagina with my palm up, curled slightly. I stroked the back side of her clit by rubbing the front of her canal.
My reward was a mixture of moaning and writhing. Extra moisture leaked out around my fingers, and her hand tangled in my scalp urging me on.
“I’m, I’m gonna come!”
That was my signal to bare my teeth and gently close them on her clit. I hung on as her pelvis writhed through her orgasm.
While she recovered, I pulled my sloppy fingers out and licked them. For me, there’s nothing better than enjoying the taste of a new pussy.
“Holy fuck, Jack. You eat pussy like you have one of your own. What’s the story?”
“Mom wanted me fully prepared for life on my own.”
“Your... What are you saying?”
“Don’t worry about it.” I was teasing her, of course. “I enjoy myself more with a happy partner. If you don’t mind, I...”
“God! Fuck me now!”
I found her entrance and pushed in, assisted by her hands on my ass. I think I surprised her again, because I wasn’t simply pistoning in and out. Instead, I was literally screwing her, weaving my pelvis left, right, forward, and back.
“Your mom taught you that?”
“Shh. Enjoy yourself.”
After that exchange, she released her grip on my ass, and slipped her right hand between us to fiddle her clit. She came quickly, triggering my own orgasm and leaving a heavy load built up from my long period of abstinence.
She complained, “You flooded me! I should make you lick all that up.” I suggested an alternative: washing her in the shower, which she agreed to.
I continued to cater to her in the shower, including washing her hair—we both enjoyed that. The hotel-supplied shampoo was only adequate, but my hands on her scalp seemed both soothing and sensual—for both of us.
Once I rinsed her free of suds, I grabbed a towel and dried her. As I patted her, I noticed a scowl begin to appear on her face. Soon, she had enough and stalked out of the bathroom.
Let me tell you—when a naked woman as beautiful as Ren stalks away, you pay close attention. I followed her out to the main room of my suite and she sat on the bed with her arms folded over her chest.
“What’s wrong?”
“I do not understand what is going on here. You’re treating me like I’m your lover. It’s weird and uncomfortable. Jack, I’m a whore; I’m not your girlfriend. I should be drying you, not you drying me.”
She paused for emphasis. “What is really going on?”
I hung my head for a moment, but then I raised up and looked her straight in the eye.
“What is going on is that I’ve paid you well for twenty or more hours of your time. If you feel uncomfortable with this arrangement, Ren, there’s the door.”
She showed some nervousness. I continued, “The money is yours whatever you decide. But if you stay with me, you’re going to have to endure how I treat you between now and tomorrow morning.”
“Endure? I’m sorry for misunderstanding. You’ve been sweet to me this whole time, and I’m not used to it. I hope you will forgive me.”
“Let’s not speak of this again. Until ten o’clock tomorrow morning, I just want you to relax and we’ll enjoy ourselves together. OK?”
“Agreed, Jack. I’m hungry, should we go downstairs and get some lunch?”
“Actually, I want to go out this afternoon. We’ll have lunch and then do a little shopping.”
“Shopping?”
“I want a fresh shirt, and you should have a new dress to wear when we have dinner together tonight.”
“But...”
I held up my hand.
“What did we just talk about, Ren?”
She subsided, while still looking a bit confused. We got dressed and made our way to the front entrance, where we waited for the valet to bring out my rental car.
“Ren, do you have a car here?”
“No, the jerk drove me here from where I met him downtown.”
“Great.” The valet returned, and I handed him a $20.
“Oh, this is yours?” Ren asked.
“It’s a rental; please, take your seat.”
“What is this thing, it’s all puffy with fake red leather and fake chrome everywhere.”
“It’s a Cadillac X something. I didn’t actually pay attention.”
“They rented you a Cadillac? That seems abnormal. What kind of business are you in, Jack Colby?”