Chapter 50

Riley was suddenly more conscious of her nudity. Under the calm gaze of handsome Luke Stillman, she felt somehow vulnerable. Diminished, younger, less confident,

Luke smiled easily, “Consuela was right, you’re a knockout.”

Riley blushed and resisted the sudden urge to cover her breasts and pussy. She spoke softly, barely above a whisper, “Thank you. Um, this is a surprise, Mr. Stillman.” She was a couple of years older, but felt like a little girl back in school.

He kept a gentle smile on his face as he began unbuttoning his shirt. When he reached for his buckle, Riley suddenly came to life. She kneeled down and untied his shoes, helped him off with his socks. When he lowered his slacks and underpants, her face was exactly level with ‘it.’

She had seen The Threesome. Had heard Ellie Travis talking about the sheer thickness of it. But his sudden appearance in the cubicle, and seeing it Right There, not three inches from her face...

Riley had the creamiest complexion and she could feel the heat creeping down from her cheeks to her neck to her shoulders. He placed two fingers under her chin and urged her upward.

She stood in front of him, still blushing, and felt like he was filling up the room, taking up so much of the space. Not so much his body, but his sheer presence. She didn’t look down at his now-full erection, but was completely aware of it through her peripheral vision.

His voice was soft, but deep, ‘You are magnificent.”

She forced herself to snap out of it, to concentrate, to stop acting like a starstruck tweener. She put a hand around his cock, “Um, Mr. Stillman, I imagine you want me to ... you know.” She tried to smile brightly, “You want to get your money’s worth, after all.”

He took her other hand and led her over to the sofa. Sat beside her, and smiled gently, “Riley Mary Margaret Clooney, we own the whores. We don’t pay them, they pay us.”

She did a mental head-slap, “Fuck, what was I thinking? I wasn’t, that’s what.” He continued holding her hand, leaned back, stretched out his legs, “Consuela Hernandez very much wants you to come work for us. And now, seeing you, so do I. What will it take?”

Riley’s mind was a tumbleweed — James, her teenage so, Flynn, her respectable Des Moines neighbors, her parents, her priest. She heard someone else talking, “Nothing. It won’t take anything. I want to. I will.”

Luke helped her to her feet, handed her the tee, began dressing, “I’m so happy, Riley. Come with me, I want you to tell Claire; she’ll be as delighted as I am.