Paul let out a snort and then stared at me. As he stood up, the first question that sprang to his mind was, "You wouldn't have let me cum till you were ready for me just now!"

I must have beefed up my defenses because I smiled at him with a phony grin made of plastic and gazed at him. "Goodbye Paul ," I said.

After I finished my sentence, I went out of his apartment and onto the elevator. Throughout the whole of my ride in the elevator, I maintained my calm by sitting perfectly motionless. It wasn't until I was sitting in the taxi that I glanced down into my lap and attempted to sob quietly while making as little noise as I could while doing so.

"Hello?" In the midst of my daydream, I am rudely awoken by Max's voice.

The first thing I do is check the meter on my PC. I only just now got around to installing the software that the office had given me. It provides information on how long the call has been going on, as well as the expected costs and royalties that I should anticipate receiving.

"Have you been there for a while?" Max inquires, a little confused as to why a phone sex operator would put him on wait in the first place.

When I think about it, it makes me grin, and I let that smile show in my voice. I am speaking softly into the phone and saying, "I'm still here, sweetheart." "Even just listening to you speak began to make me feel hot and irritated, and I wanted a place to lie down."

"Oh yeah?" Whenever Max asks a question like this, he has a huge smile that spans his whole face. "What are you sporting today?"

"Oh darling, I put on a wonderful lace white thong and a matching bra for you just now." "Does it sound good to you?"

Max mutters something into the phone, "Mmm-hmm." "That is really appealing to me."

"How do you want me?" I ask him. I've been learning. There are moments when I take the lead in the discussion. When I'm in a giving mood, I'll sometimes let the customer take the lead. I've started making it a point to engage the customers in conversation rather than simply rush them out the door as fast as I can. I believe that it serves two purposes. It keeps them on the phone for a longer period of time. But most importantly, encouraging people to communicate about themselves is the first step in turning them into regulars. They ultimately make an investment in me on an emotional level.

Max murmurs into the phone, "I want to bend you over and slip your pants down," and continues to talk about how he wants to do that.

I respond with, "Oh yes, darling, I like that," as I speak into the phone. I had no choice but to visualize myself in my kitchen, hunched over the table, with Paul standing behind me.

Max replies in a low voice, "I want to move my hands up and down your body, and I want you to take off your bra so that I may suck those firm nipples of yours."

Over the phone, I can be heard saying, "Oh, they're so difficult right now." A I can't help but imagine that this will really happen to me. And Paul himself, no less! I am unable to stop it. The image of his body keeps replaying in my thoughts. However, more than just his physique. He is a model of morality in every way. I am aware that he asserts that he is not a decent guy. On the other hand, he has been nothing but courteous to me. Affectionate, welcoming, and... loving.

"I want to use one hand to grip those nipples as I'm sucking them," Max adds into the phone. "I want to use both hands." I want to use my other hand to give that jackass a good slap.

I shut my eyes and visualize Paul giving my tits a good squeeze. In reference to Paul hitting my cheek with his hand.

"Sounds like you enjoy it, darling," Max adds. I wasn't aware of it at the time, but I had a groan audible on the other end of the phone.

Max utters these words once again, "I want to smack that ass." His respiration is all over the place. I can see that he is petting himself in the mirror. "Hard."

I let out a wailing, "Oh, baby." The more time I spend with him, the more of an impact he has on me. I bring the hand that is not holding my pantyhose down to my crotch and start rubbing my crotch softly with it.

Max adds, "I want to drop my face and use my tongue to lick around your folds."

My mind keeps going back to Paul's expression when he licked my pussy. As he used his tongue to remove the cum before feeding it to me, I watched.

I let out a sigh as arcs of pleasure begin to infiltrate throughout my body. "Ohhhh," I murmur. Max continues, apparently ecstatic with the fact that his comments seem to be having a genuine and discernible effect on me.

"I've had to get my cock out and..." Max continues, but I find that I am no longer paying attention to what he is saying.

Paul is stroking his big, 12-inch cock in front of me, and believe me when I say that it appears so genuine. All I can see is Paul doing it. I'm on my knees. The next thing I know, I'm rubbing my a** on that rock-solid cock of his. Like yesterday morning. Feeling it pulsate.

While I am beginning to rub my clit, I can feel Paul's hands on my body. I can feel his tongue, which is strong and forceful, flicking my clit. When he plays with my clit, I can feel him pressing his tongue on it and doing so.

Oh my God. What exactly am I doing? Is Max still available to talk?

I don't care. But I don't dare say. All I do is complain. All I do is take breaths and make noises.

I gently work my tongue into the wrinkles that are seen on his abdominal muscles. He rubs his tongue all over my private parts.

I am experiencing shivers of happiness right now. My whole body becomes numb. I let loose a roar. And at that point, a vulgar mutter leaves my mouth as I forget all about what is considered proper behavior. A wave of euphoria passes through my system, and for a little period of time, I am left trembling.

When I open my eyes, I feel as if my head is about to explode. I'm panting. Sweating. Hot.

Max exclaims into the phone, "That was so fucking hot!"

"I'm sorry, but I can't comment right now. I didn't do anything except lie there, my pants wet and my body content."

"I will get back to you every single day!" Max says. Even though he continues talking, I'm having a hard time concentrating on what he's saying. The best I can do is inform him that I'll be waiting, and then he hangs up the phone on me.

I glance at the screen on the computer.

It's possible that I could grow accustomed to this.

After then, an email alert appears on my phone.

"Congratulations on receiving a consistent 5-star rating from all of your customers throughout the last 24 hours!" it says in the email. The next part of the message compliments me on my rating as well as my returning customers.

After reading it, I understood that I had just given Paul half of the money that I was going to receive. Perhaps it is distributed to other individuals, but it is based on a corporation that he founded and still owns.

The very concept makes me shiver. Why would a guy who has access to such an abundance of sex be interested in someone like me? And for how much longer will it even continue? Given his appearance and the way he carries himself, I would be astonished if we ever had another conversation. I haven't received any communication from him despite the fact that it's been more than twenty-four hours already.

Don't get me wrong. I don't have any kind of prudish tendencies. As you can probably guess, I come from a rather seedy background, and I'm very, extremely sexual.

However, the Paul is in an entirely different league from the others. And at this point in time, this work and the money that it brings in have to take precedence. The only way I'll be able to do it is if I maintain a safe distance from Paul Caspar.

I secretly harbor the hope that with time, my memories of his lovely physique will start to fade away.

But the portion of my brain that processes reasoning tells me that I'm already in over my head with this situation. According to what it says, there is nothing I can do at this time.

Paul's pov

"I was starting to worry that you weren't going to return my calls," the caller said.

I respond by saying, "It's been a hectic few weeks," . But if I'm being really honest, the only thing that's been on my mind is the fact that Arcadia and I haven't had sexual contact in more over a week.

"Certainly it has, but hear me out: never consider my generosity to be a sign of weakness. ."

I am aware that he is making an indirect threat via his tone of voice, so I smash the pen down on the desk and pass the paper that has been signed over to him. I have to get out of here before he manages to truly get under my skin and make me do something that I know I shouldn't.

"Now, none of it has any relevance whatsoever. This is the necessary papers. Mr. Morozov now has control over the process of transferring ownership of these clubs."

I offer him a wave with the hand that is not stuffed into one of the pockets of my suit while the other hand is balled up into a fist and placed in the pocket.

I quickly paint a phony grin on my face and exit the room before he can provide a response. I exit the building and call for a taxi. Because of how intense the sunlight is, I had to pause for a second and look for my sunglasses. The taxi drives up, and as I get into the rear seat of the vehicle after opening the door, my thoughts turn to the recent business deal that had place.

Here I am, I'm doing business with the city gang. I have no idea what the heck I'm doing with the rest of my life. And as soon as I pose that question to myself, the place that immediately comes to mind is Arcadia.

Oh my god, she's stunning... maybe even picture-perfect!

In the course of my life, I've been across a lot of stunning ladies, but she beats them all hands down. Fucking her was unbelievable.

It hurts that it's been more than a week since we last spoke to one other. I go for my phone and make the decision to send her a text message. I stand still for a second, gazing at the chat screen and deliberating about the most appropriate thing to say next.

Fuck it; there's no doubt in my mind that I'm overthinking this. Why am I behaving in such a ridiculous manner? I text, "Let's meet up."

She says "I don't think that's a smart idea" before I have even had a chance to tuck the phone back into its holder in my pocket.

What the living hell is the intended meaning of that? I respond to the SMS with "Why not?"

I give her a few minutes to answer, but she remains silent the whole time. I give it a few more minutes of my time, but there is still no response. This is driving me completely insane. If she does not choose to respond to my messages, I will contact her in another manner, namely via her private sex line on her phone. I am not the kind to give up, and I always succeed in getting what I want.