Melissa of the Secret Apartment

I’ve been seeing her for months, Melissa is one of my favorites.  She doesn’t post or have a website.  Appointments are booked by text. She has a few reviews. A couple of the guys on the local board recommended her.  We are the secret society of Melissa.   I meet her at at an apartment she keeps across town. It’s upstairs on the back of an old building. A large house now turned into offices. Studio. Second hand furniture. Quiet as a church. Two small windows that stream morning sun through thin curtains.

She’s only available 9 to noon on Monday and Friday. This is her place of work. She tells me she lives in a house across from the beach. Single mom of 2. Yoga instructor. Saving cash to start her own studio, which is due to open in a few weeks. Smart. Funny. Stable.

I’d been pondering if I should call her as I drifted off to sleep Sunday night. 3am I’m wide awake. Time zone is still a little off.  Can’t get back to sleep. Lay there for half an hour thinking about her. Hard as a rock. Finally, succumb. Give myself a hand at relief thinking of our many encounters.  I’ll definitely make the call in the am. Sleep comes.

If I am thinking of an escort when I help myself out, should I owe some kind of royalty?

Text at 8 for a 10am apt.  She’s available. Awesome. Drive down the dirt ally behind the building. Park in back. Text: “I’m here”.

“come on up “

Climb the metal fire escape to an unmarked door.  Knock lightly. Enter.

She is magnetic and calming at the same time. Crystal blue eyes that hold me in place. Teaches yoga full time. Lithe. Firm. 5’6”. Natural breasts.  Slightly imperfect, yet perfect. Sexy. Breast augmentation is on my crap list right under RoundUp and putting babies on spikes. Melissa is very Zen. “embrace yourself” is her motto.

“How was your trip?” She pegs me with her eyes while braiding her hair over her shoulder (dishwater blonde; long).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scarlett educated me on with this last week as she put up a pony tail:  putting hair up = getting ready for business.  I do the same thing with my clients, only its rolling up my sleeves at the white board…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hair tied off. Up on tiptoes and kisses me lightly. My hand at the small of her back. Delicate kisses continue. Hands roam a bit. Clothes come off. Intensely aroused. “Welcome back.”

Fall back on the bed.  She’s a great kisser. Deeper this time. She bares the side of her neck. I take the bait. Rewarded with squirming goosebumps. I move down. Inch by inch. She’s very responsive. I take my time.  Nape, nipples, stomach, hips, thighs…She is soaked by the time I get there. Again. Take my time.  She is a health nut. Every flavor of her is enticing.

Arches her back, squeezes her knees on my ears and comes hard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is the moment in every session I live for. Why I come back.  Again and again. Pay almost any price. Window to my ego, surely.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I started the hobby I had no idea this even existed. Chances are most of the time its performance art.  No matter.  I love it anyway. Even if there’s a good chance it is just theater. She was pretty wet though… 

I return to starting position. More making out. Her turn. Inch by inch. Wow. Also awesome. Okay, the possibility of female orgasms aren’t the only reason I come back.

The rest of our hour continues. Back and forth, ending with her on top fucking the daylights out of me. During which she came again (real or performed matters not). Fan-fucking-tastic.

I stop for coffee on the way home.  Grinning a big stupid grin as I order my latte. Good to be back.

As I pull in the driveway, the landscaper is there, finishing up the project T and I fought about over the weekend. She has my invoice.  I stand in the driveway writing the check on a clipboard. As I glance down writing, I notice the gardener’s young coed helper. Squatting leaning forward. V-neck tee hanging open to show a clear view of her goods clad in a bra not entirely fit for yardwork. She is looking me straight in the eye with a sly grin. The pen pauses on the check. I return the smile: “Melissa of the Secret Apartment has buffed me against your wiles today lawngirl.” Hand her boss the check and go inside.

2 Comments Add yours

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s