Treat a hooker to lunch

There's a curiousss fellow who has decided his reputation is not worth much and has agreed to associate himself with me, in spite of my dastardly character. He is a wordsmith of the first tier. I am proud to have him edit my stories, he makes them flow more smoothly and read more understandably. I do want to say that I tinker with my stories even after his final edit, so whatever anomalies you may find are probably mine. Thanks Curiousss.

I saw a new ad for massages on the internet site that everyone looks at for their city.

"I'm so happy to be here in Northern Colorado from Seattle. Come see me and find out how the boys in Seattle get treated. You won't be sorry. I'm a horny blonde with a nice smile and really want to meet you. $160 per hour, but don't be afraid to ask for special treatment. Give Brenda a call at (123) 456-7890" The ad said, and it had the picture of a blonde hottie, with her face blurred, wearing almost nothing, showing a trim youthful body with a great ass.

I called the number, supposedly talked with 'Brenda' and made an appointment. I live out on the plains, so I had to drive a couple of hours to get to their location, which was in a private house about an hour north of Denver, right off I-25 in a suburban addition. There really wasn't any city close by, so it had to be out in the country, but there were lots of houses around.

I got there and was greeted by this blonde, thirty year old cutie with a sexy smile and extra nice eye teeth. Something about girls with big eye-teeth and a fun smile make me want to go conquer the Huns and lay my spoils at their feet, or something.

She said her name was "Brenda, welcome, come this way," and she sashayed in front of me in her bikini bottom and high heels with a sheer white teddy on top, but she did have her nipples covered through the negligee.

She led me into a roomy bedroom with a bed and a massage table set up. She said, "That'll be one sixty honey" and I drooled all over myself as I counted it out to her.

"Just go ahead and make yourself comfortable" she said as she turned and went to a cabinet to get her oils and a towel out. She had her back to me as I took my shirt and pants off.

I just had my pants down around my ankles, was wrestling with my shoes bending over and cursing myself for not taking them off first. I sported a pretty nice erection through my green colored jockey briefs; then the bedroom door opened.

"You'd better get out of here. I've called the cops and they'll be here in five minutes," said this forty-five ... ish, hooker-looking broad to my hostess.

"I have a client in the other room and he got rough with me so I called the cops ... you better get dressed, honey," she repeated, this time to me.

My 'therapist', Brenda, panicked, "Oh, my God," and she ran out of the room, with my money.

I began to think how smart I was for not taking off my shoes first, and pulled my pants right back up over my deflating hard on, grabbed my shirt, got the buttons misaligned and took off out of there.

I could hear shouting from one of the other rooms in the house as I lit out of there on the way to my car. I drove away before any police cars showed up.

As I drove, I thought, "that bitch, she just scammed me out of my money," and I turned around and headed back to the house to get my money back.

When I turned the corner about ten minutes after I'd left, there were two police cruisers parked in front, on the wrong side of the street, like they'd exited their cars in a hurry and ran into the house.

I stopped, backed up and went around the block. There was a little park with a pond and a public bathroom on the northern edge of the subdivision, so I pulled in and thought I'd use the facilities. As I came out of the bathroom, the little blonde from the house, Brenda, came walking up. She had street clothes on this time, but it didn't detract from the fact that she was truly a great looking girl.

"Hey, you still have my money," I told her.

"Not any more, I gave it to Linda," she said.

"Linda, the older lady who kicked me out?" I asked.

"Yeah, she's the boss lady. She called the cops on some guy who wanted to do anal and not use a condom. He roughed her up a little I guess. The cops are over there right now sorting things out," she replied.

"I saw that." I said. "Well, what are you gonna do?" I asked.

"I don't know, this has been the shits. I flew in here from Seattle, she said I'd make a ton of money and I've hardly had any calls," she lamented.

"There's a restaurant over there, let's go get a bite to eat and wait it out. We can come back in an hour when things cool down," I offered, pointing off towards the Northwest.

She was reluctant, "Naw, I think I'll just wait here."

"Suit yourself; you owe me a hundred sixty dollars or a one hour appointment. I'm not leaving here till I get one or the other." I got in my brand new green Buick LeSabre to leave.

As I backed out of my parking spot, she ran towards me, "Hey, wait. You going over to Johnstown to eat?"

"That's what I figured to do, but I'm also thinking about going back to the house and telling the cops you got my money," I fibbed.

"Don't do that. Hang on, I'll go with you, unlock the door," she said, perturbed at my threat to talk to the cops. She hopped in and her frown became a sexy smile.

We actually had a nice lunch. She was pleasant, all alone in the world and just a great looking hooker from Seattle. We had a great conversation about our past, our futures and about the hooking scene in Colorado, what her prospects might be for success here. She asked a lot of questions about who/what/where/when and how things went in Colorado.

She was one of the 'new age' hookers. She didn't work the streets, but worked off the internet. Her prices were considerably higher than the street girls, but her clientele, by and large, were also higher class and could pay more - and we did!

After lunch, we went back to the house but there were more cops this time so it obviously had turned into something serious. They were all over the place, eyeing us closely as we drove by, but I kept right on moving.

"Oh, shit, we can't go back there now," she said, "But all my stuff is there, all my money and clothes. I didn't take anything with me when I left."

"Let's just leave for the day and I'll bring you back here tomorrow," I volunteered. "Whatever happened in there will not be good for you; you'll be on their radar if they question you and they might even arrest you for prostitution, if that type of thing comes down."

"You're right," she said, "would you mind? I don't have any ID, or even one dollar on me. I just pulled my clothes on and split when Linda said the cops were on their way."

We drove the two hours back to my little town. She asked if we could stop at a liquor store and get a bottle of wine for her. I fixed two nice steaks and we had baked potatoes and corn on the cob with them. She drank the whole bottle of wine and we had a great fun conversation. Nothing sexual had happened. She was being totally non-sexual, just talking like an old friend and getting to know me, letting me get to know her. It was kind of cool, actually.

After dinner, she wanted to see the rest of my house, so I showed her around. I'd made the second ground floor bedroom into an office; she saw my bedroom, the bathroom and living room. We'd eaten in the kitchen, so she knew all about that.

I took her downstairs and showed her two more bedrooms and another bathroom, as well as a living room and laundry. There also is a kitchen downstairs, so it serves as a second apartment, or just more facilities. She was impressed.

We came up the back stairs and she looked out of the back door. "Oh, you have a hot tub? I love hot tubs," she giggled.

"Yeah, I sit in it all the time, watch the planes go over to land at DIA. It's cool to sit out and watch the stars and the satellites go over," I said, dreamily.

"Is it full and hot? Can we get in it tonight?" she asked.

Now, this hot tub is just sitting out in the open in my back yard. I do have a privacy fence around the back yard, but it has cracks in it and the neighbors can see into the yard. So, quiet, is the password for using the hot tub, if you are naked and want privacy.

She wanted to use the hot tub and shucked her clothes right there on the ground beside the tub. I laid back the cover and she got in, buck-assed naked.

"I'll go in and get some towels, be right back," I told her, pushing down my erection as I rushed into the house.

She was spread out and smiling like an acre of Kansas sunflowers when I got back. I quietly got into the tub, my cock bouncing, and she snuggled up beside me.

You know what? I never thought hookers kissed their clients. This one kissed me.

"You're my knight in shining armor," she teased me. "You saved me from the Sheriff. Now you've dragged me off and hidden me in your cave and are about to have your way with li'l ole me," she giggled, batting her eyes flirtatiously.

"Aw shucks, ma'am," I laughed, "Tweren't nuthin'.'"