Chapter 2

I was sitting at my laptop when the intercom buzzed. "Yes?"

Ralph's voice came through the speaker. "Steffi's on her way up."

"Shit, I had forgotten..." If I had forgotten a date with a girl like Steffi, I thought to myself, I'm working way too hard.

"She's on her way up, Mr S."

"Thanks, Ralph."

I heard the chime of the elevator and then my doorbell. "Come on in, Steffi."

A cold snap had hit the city. She was wearing a long coat and black boots and carrying a duffel. I watched her unbutton her coat and hang it on a coat tree by the door. Then she unzipped her boots, slipped out of them and into a pair of heels from her bag.

I looked her up and down. She had parted her hair down the middle and all the way back to make twin ponytails. Under the coat she was wearing a denim miniskirt and a short-sleeve, white body suit that clung to her like paint. She was not wearing a bra, and her outfit left nothing of the twin charms of her breasts to the imagination.

"I hope this isn't too casual," she said.

I smashed my fist against my forehead. "I'm sorry, Steffi -- I won't have time to take you to dinner tonight. I had a hellacious day at work and I have to finish this report tonight. It'll take me about another hour and a half."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No ... Are you hungry?"

"I'm famished."

"Maybe we can call for delivery. Do you like Chinese?"

"I love it. There's a little hole-in-the wall place I know that'll deliver."

"Then, why don't you call and order something?"

"What do you like? Hot or mild?"

"Hot. I can't stand that insipid Cantonese stuff."

"Me, neither."

"Order two different items," I said. "I don't care what. We'll share."

Steffi gave me a nod and went to the phone. I dug my wallet out of my pocket and realized I didn't have her fee.

"Here, Steffi," I said handing her the contents of my wallet. "I didn't have time to go to the bank. There's a couple hundred here. I'll have to owe you the rest."

"I trust you."

I returned to my laptop. Steffi made herself comfortable on my sofa and withdrew a book from her duffel. It was an older-looking hardcover with stickers from some library or other on the spine.

I was absorbed in creating charts and pasting them into my Word document when the intercom buzzed. "I'll get it," Steffi said and headed to the door. She answered the intercom. "Yes?"

"That you, Steffi?"

"Yes, Ralph."

"Hi Steffi ... did you or Mr S order Chinese?"

"Yes we did."

"The guy's here. I'll send him up."

"Thanks Ralph."

I pushed back from my laptop and stretched. "How's the report coming?" Steffi asked.

"Almost done. Maybe about another fifteen minutes or so after dinner." I rubbed my eyes. "I'm getting bleary." Steffi slipped a bookmark into her book. "What are you reading?" I asked. She showed me the book. "Balzac... Pére Goriot?" I took the book and flipped through it. "You're reading it in the original French?"

"Yes -- I prefer to read in the original language -- if it's one I know."

"How many languages do you know?"

She glanced at the ceiling. "I'm pretty fluent in French. I know enough German so I wouldn't starve if I was stranded there ... I can read and understand Spanish, Portuguese and Italian fairly well ... I don't know Greek or Russian, because of the different alphabets."

"That's amazing, Steffi."

She shrugged. "I have a knack for languages."

The doorbell rang and I answered it. I took the bags from the delivery boy and pulled out my wallet; then I glanced at Steffi. "I gave you all my cash."

She stepped forward, peeled off a twenty and handed it over.

"I'm sorry," I said, closing the door.

"It's okay ... really."

I took two plates and some silverware from the cabinets and set them on the dining table. "What did you order?"

"Sechzuan shrimp and Hunan chicken with Hoisin sauce." I started spooning portions onto the plates, along with some rice. "Do you have chopsticks?" she asked.

"I don't think I do."

"Wait -- they sent some in the bag..." She pulled off the paper wrapper, snapped them apart and rubbed the ends together to polish off any loose splinters.

"I've got some beer. Would you like some?"

"Sure."

I poured two glasses and watched her pick up a shrimp with her chopsticks. "You handle those like a pro." I sat back and regarded her.

"Something wrong?"

"I'm trying to figure out how a woman like you ... with your intelligence ... your education ... your poise got to be an escort."

"I told you. I like the work and there's no commitment."

"I remember ... But still, I could imagine any number of careers besides..."

"Phil -- I'm not some hooker. I don't just bang people for money."

"It IS a service you provide."

"Yes, but not exclusively. It's my background that makes me good at my job. You invited me to your Christmas party. I won't embarrass you."

"I have no doubt." I ate some chicken. "This IS spicy," I said. "What's your bliss, Steffi? What would you REALLY like to be doing?"

"Hmmm ... At one time I wanted to be a photographer -- but I don't even own a camera."

"You should buy one."

"No ... it's part of a life I left behind." She ate more shrimp and some chicken. "What exactly is your line of work?" she asked.

"I'm a hired gun." She looked up at me, eyes wide. "Businesses call me in when they're in trouble. Deep trouble. My current assignment is to save a company that's in very deep trouble indeed, and I'm not sure even I can save it." I swigged some beer. "In some circles I'm known as Neutron Phil."

"Why that?"

"Because, they say, after I'm done at a company the buildings are standing but the people are all gone."

"You fire people?"

"No, I don't. I make business plans to bring companies back to health. If that requires reducing the workforce -- it's what is required. It brings me no joy when that happens, believe me -- but if it does, it's not my fault." I drank some more. "Besides -- if a company goes out of business then everyone loses his job."

"I suppose you're right. There must be good money in what you do."

"I'm good at what I do. I've been brought in to help many big name companies -- some of whose products you undoubtedly use on a daily basis. I'm discreet and often no one knows I've been there. I charge a lot because it's the only way some of these CEOs take me seriously."

Steffi put her hand to her mouth and suppressed laughter. "Same with me. Tell me, Phil -- is this YOUR bliss?"

"I wanted to own a workshop on Cape Cod and make furniture."

Steffi helped herself to more food and rice. "This really hits the spot. I was hungry ... I skipped lunch."

"You didn't skip lunch on account of our ... appointment, did you?"

"Well ... Yes..."

"Gosh, Steffi -- I'm so sorry. Next time I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"It's fine, Phil ... This is exactly what I was in the mood for."

"You're not just saying that, are you?"

"Of course not." She set down her chopsticks. "Look -- I cleaned my plate and I had seconds." She held her fist to her mouth. "Excuse me ... it's the beer ... Excuse me again ... I'm really full now -- I'll bet my stomach's bulging." She pulled her shoulder blades back and turned her torso from side to side. "Is it?"

"It doesn't look like it to me."

She put her hand against her abdomen. "It feels really good in there, now." She picked up the plates. "I'll wash these for you."

"Just leave 'em. I'll put them in the dishwasher later."

"I can do that."

"If you'll give me fifteen minutes or so to finish my report..."

"Work before play," she said.

"I'm afraid so. I want to brush my teeth first. I love Chinese food but I hate having garlic linger in my mouth."

"I'm with you on that one." She opened her duffel and removed a leather-bound cosmetics kit. "I'll get in line."

I sat at my laptop and brought up my report. Steffi emerged from the bathroom and began tucking her kit back into her duffel.

"What else do you have in there?" I asked.

"I have a change of clothes ... and a few things we might use for playtime."

My interest was piqued. "What sort of things?"

"Well ... I brought some lingerie..."

"I'm not really into that," I said. "You have such a gorgeous body, Steffi -- I can't imagine covering it with anything that would make you more beautiful."

She smiled. "Okay, then..." She withdrew a pair of handcuffs.

"I'm definitely not into that," I said. "It implies power and domination and I believe lovers should consider themselves as equals."

She looked into my eyes. "I like your style, Phil. I brought these 'cuz you never know what's going to turn someone's socks down." She took out a mini vibrator with a battery pack on the end of a long cord. "This can be fun. Some guys like to watch me get off on it. I hold it and they control the speed."

"That's intriguing."

"Of course, I got off pretty good last time without it. I'm calling you the Man with the Golden Finger."

"It's too bad you have a thing about receiving oral," I replied. "If my finger is golden, my tongue is platinum."

"I don't have a thing against it, in principle."

"You told me you're concerned about herpes. I'm free of that."

"It's more than just that. I had a bad experience once."

"What kind of an experience?"

"Some guy went down on me and a few days later I got sick ... real sick. I ended up in the emergency room. At first they thought I had meningitis. Of seven key symptoms I had five ... high fever, terrible headache and backache ... my eyes were sensitive to light, my neck was stiff ... I was throwing up ... They even took a spinal tap."

I winced. "What was it?"

"It was a bad kidney infection. It had affected my liver and I was becoming jaundiced. I nearly freaked when they told me I had hepatitis; then they explained it meant my liver was inflamed."

"You had small-H hepatitis, not capital-H hepatitis," I replied.

"Yeah ... It was from my kidney infection. They said I was at risk for sepsis -- blood poisoning. I could've died from it. One of the interns asked me if I had a history of UTI."

"UTI?"

"Urinary tract infection. I told him never. Then he asked if I had received oral sex recently. I thought ... uhh ... as a matter of fact ... But I didn't say it."

"Yeah, that can happen," I replied.

"As a result I decided oral sex is an unsafe practice and I don't do anything unsafe."

"Oh, it's safe enough if you know what you're doing. It's all technique, Steffi. What you have to do is to approach the clit from above -- never from below. Never lick up from bottom to top..."

"That's how girls are taught to wipe ourselves ... God, I can't believe I'm talking to you about this."

"It doesn't embarrass me if it doesn't embarrass you. The best way is to go back and forth across the glans with just the tip of your tongue, and not to let it get too wet -- just damp enough for lubrication." I poked the tip of my tongue between my lips and vibrated it back and forth. "Sometimes if her anatomy is right you can use a sucking motion." I looked into her eyes. "That drives a girl wild, but she has to be built for it. You can't just slobber away down there. Above all You need need to be careful not to force anything up into her urethra. That's how infections get started."

"Is that how you do it?"

"Call me old-fashioned, but I think a woman is precious. It's essential to put her health and comfort first."

"I don't think that's old-fashioned, Phil. I think it's pretty modern. The world needs more men with your attitude, believe me. How do you know so much about this?"

"I was carefully instructed by an expert."

"Who was that?"

"Gwendolyn -- my ex-fiancée."

"Oh, Phil, you poor boy ... Did she leave you standing at the altar?"

"Not exactly, but she did run off ... with another woman."

"So THAT's how she became an expert ... She was bi-curious."

"She was more bi than curious," I replied, "much to my astonishment."

Steffi giggled. "I would never do that. I don't go for girl-on-girl stuff. Sometimes a couple of us are asked to put on a show. I avoid those assignments if I can; but I can put on a pretty good act, if I have to." She looked me up and down. "Maybe I'll let you lick me tonight -- to see if your technique is as good as you claim."

"What else do you have in the bag?" I asked. Steffi removed a squeeze-bottle enema. "What's that for?"

"We haven't talked about anal, yet," she replied.

"You'd let me into your back door?"

"I might ... I kinda like it that way ... as a change of pace. I save it for special clients."

"Am I a special client?"

"You're an extra-special one," she said and wrinkled her nose. Then, she pressed her hand against my crotch. "And, you're about the right size and shape for it."

"I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or a complaint."

She giggled. "Take it as the truth." She held up the box. "I brought this so you could clean me before you ream me. That way there are no unpleasant or messy surprises."

I took the box from her, opened it and withdrew the plastic squeeze-bottle with its long snout. "Are you really game for this?" I asked.

"I am if you are. You said you have another fifteen minutes of work on your report."

"About."

She pointed to the device I was holding. "If we use it now, it'll take about that long for me to be ready."

"Sounds good to me." I started to hand it to her.

"No -- you put it in me."

"You want me to do it?"

"I can do it myself but it's awkward."

"All right ... I've never done anything like this before..."

Steffi reached under her denim skirt, pulled down her briefs and stepped from them. "It's easy -- just put it in and squeeze." She lay on her left side on the sofa and drew up her knees.

The thought of what I was about to do made me begin to stiffen. I approached her, lifted the hem of her skirt and beheld her beautiful brown bottom. Then I grasped the orange sheath on the rectal tip.

"Make sure you take the cap off," she said.

"I had figured out that much already," I replied and pulled off the sheath. With my left hand I spread her cheeks to expose her anus -- it was black, like her nipples; a little black pucker nestled in the valley between her smooth, dark brown buttocks. I touched the tip to it and could see her flinch. "Sorry," I said. "Did I hurt you?"

"It's okay. You weren't in just the right spot. Just work it in. Go in circles."

I rotated my wrist to drill the tip into her and could feel the point slip past her sphincter. "Is this okay?" I asked.

"Yeah ... Push it in all the way..." I slid the nozzle into her up to the hilt. "Okay," she said. "Now squeeze it -- squeeze hard. There's a one-way valve in the cap. Squirt it in and get as much of it into me as you can."

I squeezed the flaccid plastic, then folded the collapsed bottle onto itself and squeezed again. "What's it feel like?"

"Like a cool spray inside. Now I can feel it working its way in deeper."

I crumpled the bottle and squeezed again. "That's all of it," I said, pulling the tip from her.

"I know. I felt some air go in."

"Sorry..."

"It's okay."

"Now what?"

"I stay like this while it works."

"How long does that take?" I asked as I stuffed the spent bottle into the box and tossed it in the wastebasket.

"Not very long. I'm starting to feel it already."

"Feel what?"

"You know ... nature calling."

I knelt beside her and caressed her thigh. "You DO have a terriffic bottom, Steffi," I said. "Do you use these a lot?"

"Not a lot. Like I said I save it for special clients. Listen ... Can you hear it?"

"Hear what?"

She pressed her hand against her stomach. "Little gurgles in my belly. These things really get stuff moving inside me." I cocked my ear toward her abdoman and could indeed make out some faint growling. "I am really feeling it now."