Chapter 9: Moving Upscale

THUD!

Every bone in my body felt that sound, deep and to the core. It was the sound my body made coming into rapid contact with the exercise mat that did little to cushion my fall.

Allie and I were in our sixth week of a martial arts class in Krav Maga. We’d picked that rather than a number of other similar defensive classes because it was the nastiest, dirtiest, wickedest, and most aggressive fighting system devised. If the Mossad used it, then we thought that would be the best system to learn.

There were only two other students in the class, and both of them were about decade old than we were. One was an entry level cop, and the other had just gotten a job as security staff at a local mall.

We had an instructor named Amos Raviv and he was ex-Mossad. He was also very good, very thorough, and very painful. Fortunately, his studio was nearby campus. Instead of one or two long lessons a week, Allie and I went to his place five times a week for a half-hour lesson. We wore gym clothes or what he called street clothes.

“You’re not going to fight in a gi. If you’re in trouble, you’ll be wearing your everyday clothes. Learn to fight in them.” I thought that made very good sense.

Raviv would focus on Allie and me for the first half-hour of an hour lesson, we’d leave, and then he’d focus on the other two guys taking the class.

Allie slammed into the mat beside me and rolled away from her attacker. She was on her feet, and had administered a blistering kick to Amos’ balls. Of course, he was protected so the blow had little impact other than driving him back. That was the intent.

Our timer went off and our short lesson ended. We shook hands with Amos and quickly left so he could begin with the older students.

For me, it was back to the books. I was struggling with a Communications Theory class in my engineering curriculum and had a tough homework assignment.

The day before we had finished the videoing of Jake’s first feature movie that he’d decided would be entitled Cheater’s Delight. Allie and I each had a ‘share’ in the movie. If many people bought it, we made money. We’d come to trust Jake, and he was a fraternity brother of mine, although he’d been a dozen years ahead of me in attending college.

Allie had an occasional escort date. I helped her put up a website for Amy Cox to advertise what a perfect companion she’d be for the ‘right man’s’ social requirements. All the comments were very veiled, and there were a few double entendres here and there – ‘Amy performs beyond expectation in any situation’. We didn’t expect business to come from the web site, but we expected the site to confirm her desirability to those considering her as an evening interlude.

Later, I put up a website for myself as Adam Nice, with similar information, and a large number of casual photographs. We even put up a few photos of me in the Krav Maga class, just to emphasize to the paying ladies that I was also meaningful protection. That was not true. I was only weeks into what would need to be a year or more of training before I could quality as even modest ‘protection’ – at least it seemed that way. I’d lucked out with Allie at the sex party that some guy named Charlie had taken her to and I’d had the role of bodyguard.

Jake liked the idea of the websites, and made sure to have the links on a card in his wallet so he could give out our information. People contacted Jake because he was a known quantity in the adult entertainment industry, plus Tri-X Entertainment was in the phone listings. If you liked one of his porn stars, he’d put you in touch with them so you could plan a ‘date’. While he played the middle man, he carefully distanced himself from our transactions.

Allie and I both offered to recompense Jake in some way for his referrals. He laughed and told us absolutely not. He reiterated that he was making an acceptable rate of return from our videos and work with him. He didn’t need any income that was ‘tainted’ as far as the vice squad was concerned.

Word of mouth seemed to be a more important marketing ploy for the escort side of our lives than Jake or the websites.

Allie had some ‘dates’ with several distinguished gentlemen. She was happy. They took her to some of finest restaurants within fifty miles in their limousine, wined and dined her, maybe took her to the opening of a play or the premier of a movie, brought her to their hotel suite, and then she showed them just how great sex with Amy Cox could be.

Meanwhile, the early videos that Amy Cox and Adam Nice had done started to get ‘discovered’ on the Internet. One week, we were lucky if anybody looked at them, and the next week we were getting 10,000 views a week and trending upward. Jake was dancing with delight. The more views we had, the more money he made.

Allie and I were both surprised when he gave us both unexpected checks. We looked at him clearly asking, ‘What’s this for?’

Jake said, “Your videos have caught on. I get a cut of the revenue they generate on each of the websites they’re posted on. They’re selling. People love your bodies, and they love to watch you fuck.”

Allie got a check for $2,000, and I got $650. Most of the viewers were men and wanted to see Amy Cox getting fed a fat cock and then covered in sperm. While I’d contributed to that in a few of her videos, I wasn’t the main attraction.

About then, I got engaged by a woman named Barbara Biltmore. Her assistant, Tish Wright, called and made the dinner and evening appointment. A limousine would pick me up. I’d never been in a limo, although I’d seen Allie depart in several over the past months for her ‘dates’, always from a neutral pickup location.

Barbara Biltmore was a name that filled the society columns in the state papers. She had more money than God, and had already run through six husbands and was being courted by a man that might become her seventh. She also had a daughter and son along the way; apparently, they were away at college or boarding school.

Barbara Biltmore was a classic MILF. She was a bottle blonde, with carefully coiffured hair, a flawless complexion, and carefully crafted body. Her face had been on the cover of many magazines for one reason or another. She was zaftig – had a pair of hooters that defied description. There had only ever been one picture of her published in a bathing suit – a bikini that had been stretched to the limit.

Barbara had a figure to die for. Part of her legacy to the shape of her body was the Biltmore Diet, detailed in a book she published that became a best seller. The before-and-after pictures in the book weren’t all that revealing, but they did show that she’d shed about a hundred pounds.

When the limousine arrived for our first date, I expected to be shuttled somewhere to meet Barbara. Wrong! She was in the backseat of the limo smiling at me as the chauffeur held the door for me. I was glad I’d worn my sharpest clothes, including my blazer.

“Good evening, Mr. Nice.”

“Good evening, Miss Biltmore. Please call me Adam.” I wasn’t sure whether to refer to her as ‘Miss’ or “Mrs’.

“Barbara, then, or just Barb. I like both. Later, you can call me other crude names and epithets such as slut or cunt.”

I ignored her comment, but it did reveal part of her personality to me.

She promptly handed me a stuffed envelope that I quickly hid in my inside blazer pocket. So much for details.

I smiled, “You’re a dream come true. You’re beautiful and even exotic.”

“I dressed to please you.”

“Please me? I’m the one that’s supposed to please you all evening. You need to lead me a little at the start so I know how to best do that.”

Barbara laughed and said, “Then get to work.” She hiked her skirt up and spread her shapely legs. She was commando and her manicured pussy winked at me. Meanwhile, the limousine was cruising in late-afternoon traffic towards the Interstate.

I grinned, and knelt on the floor of the limo and went to work. Cunnilingus is an acquired skill, I contend. A person can learn to be superb at the act, but it takes study and practice. I’d done both, and had Allie and several of her sorority sisters help me repeatedly hone my technique.

Barbara Biltmore loved cunnilingus, at least from me. I figured it was about five minutes from when I started to her first orgasm. I was already planning ahead to orgasms two through five, when she stopped me. “Come up here and kiss me.” She fanned her face as I changed to the seat beside her.

She was hot. I sensed a seething passionate babe beneath her cultivated exterior. She lapped her juices from my face, and then presented me a wet washcloth. I did her pussy first, of course. She smiled at my courtesy.

“That was very accomplished, Adam. We’ll do more of that later – a lot more.” Barbara then outlined the dinner with friends where we were going. I was to be her ‘toy boy’ that met her at her spa. She wasn’t too worried about her reputation. Money took care of that.

“Adam, do you know who I am?”

“There are many answers to that question, and I know some of them. Overall, you are a gem of a woman whose money gets in the way of her love life. Six husbands have come and gone, and that tells me that they had the wrong focus coming into their relationship with you.”

“What?” she asked as her brow furrowed.

“They focused on your money and on drafting their new lifestyle onto yours. I’m generally interested in neither. I’m starting to make a little money and that’s very satisfying in many ways. I have a loving girlfriend, although we have some questionable parts to our lives. I love sex. I’m good at it. I get paid for it, and that’s all right for both of us. I have no long-term desire to raid your bank account. Although I’m far from your economic bracket, I am comfortable and happy as I set about finishing college. Based on my major in engineering, my follow-on job prospects are very favorable.” I smiled at her.

“Wow, I think I got more than I bargained for when I got you.”

I asked, “How did you find me, by the way? Someone named Tish, your assistant, made the booking.”

Barbara blushed. “I saw a porn video of you on the Internet. I asked Tish to find you if you were local, and then see if you were free for this occasion. She mentioned getting your number from a friend of a friend.”

I grinned as the limo hurled onto the Interstate. “I guess good news travels fast. Thank you for calling. I should send Tish flowers or something.”