The Call Girl' s Stories Read online

  Alyce gasped as little beads of her cum splattered against her calves.

  “Oooh!” Bob moaned in delight.

  Another push made her pussy spray warm, wet droplets all over Bob’s ball sack and his straining inner thighs. He held out for as long as he could as she came and came, howling and screaming and scrabbling at the window, until his cock swelled and pulsed inside her. With a last deep thrust and a growl, he filled up the condom with his cum.

  Alyce, empty, shuddering, collapsed on the soaked carpet.

  Bob wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up, carrying her to the bed.

  “Oh, fuck,” she murmured as he laid her out on top of the silk sheets. “Oh, sweet mother of fuck...” Her body thrummed with pleasure. Bob smiled, sweeping a strand of hair back from her face.

  Alyce woke up to sunlight streaming through the window. Her pussy ached in the delightful way it always did when she’d had a satisfying, forceful fuck. Her clit had returned to its normal size, and her breasts felt small and anemic compared to last night.

  Bob was gone. Alyce reached above her head, and found a card sitting on top of the pillow.

  She opened the envelope. Inside were three more vials of the liquid, her fee for the night, in cash, and a handwritten note that read “I had a great time last night. I’m so glad I was able to help you experience that kind of pleasure. Kisses, Bob.”

  Alyce smiled. As she shakily got dressed, she slipped the card and the vials inside her bra. She walked with an extra slink to her step that morning, thrusting one hip provocatively towards the businessmen dragging themselves out of their hotel rooms, as she imagined every filthy delightful use for Bob’s potion.

  The Call Girl and the Billionaire’s Son

  Alyce rolled over in bed, twining the thick satin sheets around her legs and brushing her tangled hair out of her eyes. She’d forgotten to wash off her cat’s-eye liquid eyeliner last night, and a smudge of black came away on the back of her hand. Her head ached slightly, a counterpoint to the dull soreness between her legs, and she wondered again why she’d had that third glass of champagne. She heard something out in the hall — a slight murmuring — and then the door was kicked in.

  Alyce jumped, sitting up in bed, the sheets pinned underneath her arms, as five men in leather jackets and sunglasses rushed into the room. One of them slammed the door behind him. The others began tearing through the hotel room, ripping open dresser drawers and emptying wastebaskets onto the floor. A wad of tissues and two tied-off condoms bounced onto the floor.

  “Where is it?” one of the men growled to Alyce.

  “What?” she gasped.

  He reached into his jacket and pointed a gun at her.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Alyce cried, holding one hand up in surrender. “Gentlemen, we’re all professionals here. There’s no need for that.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her, but lowered the gun. Suddenly awake, Alyce realized that the gun was an Italian-made import. These guys were no everyday break-and-enter outfit.

  One of the other men opened Alyce’s red leather handbag and dumped the contents out on the floor. Alyce’s sunglasses, keys, tubes of lipstick, paperback novel, half-pack of condoms, and travel bottle of lubricant bounced against the thick white carpet.

  The vial, she thought. McDougall must have sent them.

  What had they done with it? Alyce ignored the dull pounding in her head and tried to remember. Ethan was on his knees and had his tongue in her pussy, and she was laughing as the transformative elixir took hold and her breasts and clit began to swell, and she had flung the vial... where?

  Alyce swallowed and glanced up at the steely eyes of the man holding the revolver. She would have to think fast.

  Three days earlier

  For a long time, Alyce had been thinking about quitting. She used to take a lot of pride in what she did — giving expertly spine-tingling blowjobs or making a customer black out from the force of his orgasm — but now that she was five years into the game, the thrill had worn off and all Alyce had to show for it was some designer clothes and the ability to fit two cocks in her pussy at once. It wasn’t the fine lines that were beginning to appear around her eyes, nor the fact that going without a full eight hours of sleep now made her completely useless for the rest of the day, but a sense of malaise and wasted promises that had begun to seep into every corner of her life.

  She’d had one stand-out night this past year — with a pharmaceutical scientist named Bob who still smuggled her little glass vials of his experimental aphrodisiac. One sip of Bob’s elixir turned Alyce into an insatiable tiger who grew D-cup breasts and a clit the size of her thumb, and whose pussy spurted with the force of her half-dozen or more orgasms. Still, the effect always wore off, and every time Alyce read about a woman opening a boulangerie or a dance studio, or hiking through Peru solo, or going back to school to become an art history professor, she felt bitterness rise up in her throat like bile. I could have been someone else, she thought. I could have spent my twenties building something.

  Alyce’s job didn’t exactly have a retirement account or a lot of career security, and also had a lot of overhead — you can’t exactly charge five hundred to a thousand dollars an hour and show up wearing a dress from the vintage shop, chipped fingernails, a wash-and-wear hairstyle, a home Brazilian wax, or a pair of shoes that cost less than a car. Additionally, Alyce had to pay the owner for security services and room fees, and she was heavily in debt to him. She would need a serious infusion of cash if she wanted to start over. And so, when the hotel’s owner approached her with a very high-value job, she agreed to a meeting.

  Sometimes, high-value jobs came in, five or six figures for one night’s work, almost always arranged by the hotel’s sleazy owner or his equally sleazy wife, who both excelled at gadding about the city’s upper-class parties and finding customers for their cocaine-and-hookers business. The girls dreaded the high-value jobs, because they tended to be incredibly dangerous or unusually disgusting or both, and the size of the potential bounty was so hard to weigh against the risk to life and limb. Alyce could still remember Tatiana, the sweet Ukrainian girl who had slit her wrists in a bathtub following a high-value job, or Moira, the Australian redhead with the loud voice and raucous laugh who was rumored to have been committed to a mental institution. Still, she thought, no harm in finding out what the assignment was. It came from Lance McDougall, a pharmaceutical CEO for one of Bob’s competitors, and his high profile reassured Alyce. She told her boss to make the arrangements.

  “Five hundred thousand dollars to the lady who’s woman enough for my boy Ethan,” Lance McDougall said.

  Alyce almost choked on her tea.

  She, McDougall, and his son Ethan were sitting at a table next to the window in the hotel’s opulent ballroom, dining on tea and petit fours carried in on silver trays. Ethan was sitting across the table from Alyce. He looked like a sweet-natured college kid, with his handsome face and big blue eyes, and he was obviously humiliated by the whole situation — he kept turning red in the face and he could barely stand to look Alyce in the eye. When he did, it was through his long eyelashes, with an apologetic air, as if to say, I’m so sorry that my dad is a pig — I promise you I’m not, okay?

  “On the condition,” McDougall added, “that she is woman enough.”

  Alyce set down her teacup, held McDougall’s gaze, and spoke slowly. “To clarify — if the woman satisfies Ethan, the bounty is hers. If not, she gets nothing?”

  “Yes, exactly,” McDougall said.

  “And how shall it be determined that Ethan is satisfied?” Alyce asked.

  Ethan turned bright red and cringed in his chair. Sorry kid, Alyce thought. It’s not your fault your dad is a pig.

  McDougall frowned. “I think it should be fairly clear whether or not he’s satisfied,” he said.

  Ethan cringed even harder.

  “So it’ll be on Ethan’s word?” Alyce asked.
r />   “Precisely,” McDougall said. “I expect Ethan to give me a full report in the morning.”

  Ethan looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere and die. Maybe he was gay. In that case, Alyce planned, she’d show up with her nicest, most supportive persona, and if she had to, she’d subcontract the evening out to one of the rent boys downstairs. She’d give Ethan a filthy tale to spin for his father, and everyone would go away happy.

  “All right,” Alyce said. “I accept.”

  Two days later, Alyce would watch as one of McDougall’s men pried the back off the television and removed a recording device and microphone from the inner works. She would curse herself for being naive enough to trust that McDougall would rely on his son’s word. But on that sunny afternoon, she extended her hand and the three of them shook. McDougall kissed the back of her wrist, leaving a wet mark that would stay with Alyce long after she had rubbed it off.

  The night of their date, Alyce sat on the edge of the bed in their room, finishing her makeup. McDougall had rented the suite with the full-size fireplace, recessed bathtub, and Louis XIV furniture. Alyce wore a zebra-striped dress from a trendy boutique, and drew cat’s-eye wings above her eyelashes, making her look a little like a cleaned-up Amy Winehouse: somebody Ethan might meet in the back of a classroom, or on a night out with his friends.

  There was a knock at the door, and Alyce opened it to find Ethan in the hallway, blushing to his temples. He was dressed in a classic yet stylish sweater and trousers, and he clutched a bottle of champagne and a bouquet of Hawaiian bird-of-paradise flowers.

  “Hi Ethan,” Alyce said, trying to look as friendly and non-threatening as possible. “Nice to see you again. Would you like to go grab a glass of wine or a cocktail at the piano bar?”

  He eagerly accepted, and soon they were leaning side-by-side against the grand piano, sipping glasses of pinot noir and making small talk. Alyce was surprised to find that, once Ethan got over his shyness, he was intelligent, witty, and interesting as well as sweet and handsome. He and his friends had gone heli-skiing in the Himalayas during winter break. He was majoring in business at his dad’s insistence, but was also studying art, history, science, music, and literature. After he graduated, he wanted to join the Peace Corps.

  She didn’t get it. Ethan was, by anyone’s standards, a dreamboat. Why would McDougall even think of hiring a girl for him?

  Upstairs, as they made out on the chaise lounge, Alyce reached for Ethan’s belt buckle, and he stiffened and pulled away.

  “What is it, honey?” she asked.

  Ethan got up, opened the window, and leaned out into the warm night, breathing deeply. Alyce got up and went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and placing her chin on his shoulder.

  “Do you like guys?” Alyce asked. “Is that what this is all about? Because —”

  “No,” Ethan said. “It’s — it’s really embarrassing, okay?”

  Tiny dick, Alyce thought. Never as much of a problem as they think it is. She breathed warm air across his earlobe. “You can tell me anything, hon. I’m unshockable.”

  “Okay,” Ethan said. He sat back down on the chaise, poured himself another glass of champagne, and held it in both hands, staring into the bubbles. Alyce sat down beside him, resting her hand on his knee.

  “Listen,” Ethan started, “I grew up in a big empty house with a super-fast internet connection and not a whole lot of friends. I was a shy, pudgy kid, and...”

  Alyce didn’t know where Ethan was going with this, but she nodded and made a sympathetic murmur anyway.

  “When I was eleven, I mean, it was ridiculous, I barely had a sexuality to speak of — but I got heavily into downloading porn.” He buried his face in one hand, and wiped his brow with the pad of his thumb. “And watching porn soon became the only way I knew how to relax and unwind, or blow off steam after school. I actually don’t think I’ve ever had an orgasm without a porn movie on.”

  “Honey,” Alyce said, brushing a strand of hair out of his face, “it’s all right. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “But there is,” Ethan insisted. “I’ve never been able to maintain a romantic relationship because of this. My high school girlfriend and I broke up because every time we tried to have sex, I couldn’t get it up and she’d feel inadequate and... it would devolve into this awful scene. On top of that, I can’t get off watching regular old sex scenes anymore, it’s got to be really kinky or dirty or extreme to do it for me.” Ethan swallowed, and Alyce could see that his eyes were welling up with tears. She pulled the box of tissues on the coffee table closer.

  “I know my dad comes off as a jerk,” Ethan said, wiping his eyes, “but he’s actually had a lot of tragedy and disappointment in his personal life, and I know he just wants me to be happy. I mean, neither one of us wants me to go on my honeymoon and have to put on Gangbang Anal Sluts 4. I’ve been seeing a therapist and all, but, you know, talk can only do so much.” Ethan crumpled up the tissue and tossed it into the wastebasket.

  Alyce ran her hand reassuringly over his shoulders.

  Ethan looked up. “Have you... seen this sort of problem before?”

  “A few times,” Alyce lied. “Don’t worry, honey. There’s no judgment here. Let’s take it real slow and start from wherever you’re comfortable.”

  Four hours later, they sat across from each other in the deep Jacuzzi tub, not talking. Alyce had poured the last of the now-flat champagne into plastic cups that sat on the edge of the bathtub.

  They had tried everything Alyce could think of to get Ethan off — toys, spanking, whips — and, frustrated, she had even decided to forego condoms (”I can’t feel anything,” Ethan had sighed as his limp penis slipped out of Alyce’s vagina) and had lubed herself up and prepped for anal sex, but to no avail. Every sex act they attempted ended in failure and tears, with Ethan feeling pushed to perform and Alyce hiding her increasing frustration.

  “I’m really sorry about all this,” Ethan said again, with fresh tears in his voice.

  Alyce found his knee under the water and rubbed it. “Honey, it’s all right,” she said tenderly. Five hundred thousand, she thought. Ten more years in this business.

  They sat in silence for a moment, and then Alyce said “Listen, sweetie, there’s one last thing in my little bag of tricks. If you’re interested.”

  “What,” Ethan said flatly, draining the last of his champagne. His eyes reminded Alyce of an old dog who didn’t want to go out in a rainstorm.

  “You really can’t tell your dad about this,” Alyce said.

  Ethan perked up. He nodded.

  “About six months ago, I had a date with a guy who works in the R and D division of SX Pharmaceuticals,” Alyce began. “And he brought me a sample of something they’d been putting through clinical trials but hadn’t announced to the public. They’d been working on a treatment for female sexual dysfunction, I believe, and they ended up accidentally inventing the most powerful aphrodisiac the world has ever seen.”

  “Wh-what does it do?” Ethan gaped.

  “It...” Alyce relaxed into the bath at the bodily memories of nights under the drug’s control. “Mmm. It lets out your dirtiest, naughtiest, most extreme sexual self. It turns off that part of your brain that’s always holding a little back, even when you don’t want it to be. But that’s not all it does.”

  Ethan was sitting up at the other end up the tub, in rapt attention.

  “It has physical effects, too,” Alyce said. “Amazing ones. It gives women sexual abilities they don’t otherwise have.”

  “Like what?” Ethan breathed.

  “Oh, it’s different for everyone, apparently,” she said. “Some women can cum just through anal sex, with no one touching their clit. Others can have multiple orgasms, where they usually only have one. And some women’s bodies change temporarily, too.”

  “What happens to you, when you take it?” Ethan asked. His eyes were glitteri
ng.

  “When I take it,” Alyce said, “first, I feel warm and flushed all over, and I start to tingle... Then my nipples harden, and turn puffy, and my breasts start to grow. They can swell up to twice their usual size. I start to feel like a naughty slut, especially when someone rubs them or licks them... but the most amazing thing is what happens to my clit. It gets so big that it pushes my labia apart and sticks out like a thumb.”

  Ethan swallowed. Alyce noticed, with a cautious thrill, that his penis was stirring in the bath and beginning to grow and lengthen.

  “And I turn into this... this creature, this thing of pure desire,” she said. “I have to be fucked. Every which way I can. I cum so many times, Ethan, and I squirt like a flood... I’ve completely destroyed hotel rooms when I’m on this drug.”

  “Where is this thing now?” Ethan asked.

  “In my purse,” Alyce said with a smile. “Want to play with it?”

  Water splashed over the sides of the bathtub as Ethan jumped up and reached for the fluffy bath towels. Alyce laughed, wiping herself off, as she followed him into the other room.

  Ethan knelt on the thick, padded carpet as Alyce rifled through her purse. She found the small glass vial at the bottom of the bag, and raised it up to the light. The viscous liquid inside settled to the bottom of the glass, and glowed faintly in reflection. She pried off the plastic cap.

  Ethan’s eyes were wide enough to be perfectly round. Alyce pinched her nose shut and threw back the liquid like a shot.

  As the bitter, medicinal taste dissipated, a warm flush stirred in her belly and expanded outward, filling her breasts, all the way to the opening of her pussy and her tight, pink asshole. Her nipples began to tingle, then tighten, and pulled themselves into hard, straining knots as her areolas swelled.

  “Come here,” she growled to Ethan, offering him her breasts.