I have a million, million questions, but I don’t even know where to start. But Three suddenly bolts upright, away from the window, glances at the plain wall clock.
“Shit! You gotta get out of here. I’ve got an assessment, like right now!”
“An assessment?”
“Yeah, with Caleb.”
“Caleb is cominghere, now?”
We both hear a voice. One we both recognize. But rather than the usual calm, there is anger, hot and loud. “No, Douglas, it’snotgoing to be fuckingfine. If she didn’t leave the building, then she’s hiding out somewhere. Fuckingfindher, or there will be hell to pay.” Right outside the door.
Three hisses in my ear. “Under the bed.Go!Don’t even breathe, okay? He won’t stay too long. ’Specially not in this mood.”
I hustle toward the bedroom, slide under the bed, make myself as small as possible. Arms under my chest, cheek to the dusty hardwood. Barely breathing.
I hear the door open. Hear that deep, gravelly voice. “Three. Good morning.”
“Caleb.” Three sounds... breathy. “I’m fine. How are you?”
“Not well. There’s been... a problem. It’s got me distracted, I’m afraid.” Footsteps on the hardwood, and I see shiny expensive tan leather shoes, khaki slacks. “Perhaps we should reschedule your assessment for tomorrow. I’m not sure I can focus at the moment.”
“But... Miss Lisa told me I’ve finally got my first Escort gig tomorrow, but only if I pass this assessment.” Three sounds genuinely disappointed. “Unless you think there’s a chance I might fail...”
“I think there’s very little risk of that, Three. Your progress has been remarkable.”
“You don’t think I could... help you with your mood?” Three’s voice goes low, sultry, rife with suggestion. “I know I can’t fix nothin’—”
“Three.” It’s a warning.
“Sorry, Caleb. I meant, fixanything.” I see feminine bare feet framed between larger shod ones. Three lifts up on her toes. A silence that speaks of something happening I can’t see. A kiss perhaps. Sounds, too quiet to interpret. “I could distract you from your... distractions, you know?”
I clench my teeth and breathe shallowly, slowly. They are moving closer, Three walking forward toward the bed, the Italian leather dress shoes walking backward.
It seems Three shall be assessed.
The bed above me dips under weight. Springs squeak. The shoes are inches from my face. Three’s feet shuffle, and then one knee touches the floor, the other. A belt buckle jingles, zipper sounds. The khaki slacks droop around ankles, and I get a glimpse of familiar hairy calves. Wet sounds. A male groan. Quiet, faint gagging.
“Very good, Three.” This, delivered through clenched teeth. “Mmmm. More tongue, more movement of your whole head. Don’t just suck. Alternate using your hands, your lips, and your tongue. Yes, like that.” A growl, as Three obviously demonstrates a particular... technique, I suppose.
My gut twists. Feelings I don’t dare examine rage within me.
Sucking, gagging, male grunts and groans, sighs. It goes on for longer than I would think possible. The sounds taper off for a moment or two, and then resume, silence, a female gag accompanied by a male groan.
“Are you ready, Three?” Low, thickly voiced, teeth clenched, breathless. “I’m going to come. I’ll let you decide where you want me to come.”
Gagging. Gulping. A long, guttural male groan. Sigh. Three’s weight shifts backward as she sits on her heels, one hand planted on the floor. There’s come on her hand, white smears across her knuckles. Apparently she didn’t elect to swallow it all.
A moment of silence.
“Very,verygood, Three.” An extended sigh, and the weight on the bed shifts backward. “Next time, I would like you to take it all on your face. I don’t personally find pleasure in that, but others do, and you need to be prepared for how it will feel.”
“Yes, Caleb.” Why does she sound so eager?
“Now... I want you to tell me the truth, all right? Penalty free for this answer, regardless of what you say. Our last session together, did you fake your orgasm?”
A hesitation. And then Three’s voice, pitched low, embarrassed. “Yes—no. Well, sort of. I mean... I exaggerated it, some. Ididcome, but not as—as hard as I might have made it seem.”
“Why?”
