Times are tough right now. I think we all know that. I'm trying to survive by writing and working retail part-time. Still, by the end of the month things are rough.
A friend of mine works at the fancy new country club in town. For everyday business, they have enough staff. But for parties or events, they need just a few more. She told me about their hiring needs, and I rushed right over to apply. The manager hired me on the spot...well, pending background checks. I knew I would pass, so I considered myself hired on the spot.
Like I thought, I passed the tests and started working at the club parties. I was a server. I was a bartender. I was a valet. I even had to spend one awful night in the dish room. It was so hot and humid in there. Miserable.
Saturday night, there was a party for the club's version of the Ryder Cup, a party to wrap up the big competition. Again, I was scheduled to work the party. I was told I would be a bartender (skills picked up from my college job). I enjoy being a bartender. The bartender gets to chat with nearly everyone in the room. It is a great way for an author to pick up personality traits for characters.
Unfortunately, the weather has turned unseasonably cold. Snowing even. No, it's not sticking, but three days this week have brought snow.
Since the club already has other bartenders on the full-time payroll, I got bumped to the coat check gal. Fun. Yeah, I'd still get to meet people, but I would be stuck in that tiny closet of a room all evening with no one around until the party ended. BORING. If I had known I'd end up with a job like this for the night, sitting out there alone, I would have brought a toy!
I did the job as expected, greeting the guests without getting too friendly. Taking their coats, giving them their tickets, organizing the racks. Everything that I was supposed to be doing. And still: BORING.
Then as the party started, my duties dwindled off. Now, I had to sit and watch the coats. WATCH THE COATS. I'd rather be watching the partygoers' kids in the Kids' Cottage. At least the kids DO something. The coat room was filled with coats, and there was not a soul around to talk to. The valets had moved into the lobby because of the cold, but the two of them were a bit creepy. Leering at me. My only escape was to venture back deeper into the coats.
I started wondering about the people who wore these coats, what their lives were like. Were the women stuffy? They wore their coats tonight because of the cold: were these women cold in bed? Did they know how to please a man? How to take their man to the edge, lingering there, making him wait for that final release? Do they know how to move so that their men couldn't resist them? Did they wear sexy lingerie, or were they 'white bra and cotton panties' ladies? Did they know the way their men looked at me, flirted with me?
Did they know that I fantasized about every one of their husbands, pleasing myself as I thought of them?
Someone rang the bell on the counter, taking me from my thoughts. I prayed it wasn't one of those valets, especially the creepy one who would rub himself as he stared at me.
I walked back up front to the counter to see a woman standing there. "I need my lipstick out of my coat, please."
"Could I have your ticket?"
She explained that her husband had the ticket, but that her coat was black. 99 per cent of the coats were black. She asked if I could just start looking through the pockets. Her coat was long, shouldn't be hard to find. I had checked in about 150 coats, almost all of them black, and most of them long. Yeah, it would be hard to find.
I asked her very politely if it was possible for her to get her ticket as I wasn't allowed to rummage through pockets. She stormed off.
I stayed up front because I didn't want to make her wait when she returned. As I waited, I could vividly picture her home life. She would definitely be a nagger, bugging her husband about the littlest things. She would like control and everything would be done the way SHE wanted it done. She would make her husband brush his teeth, gargling for no less than 45 seconds, before he could kiss her. She would make him shower before sex. And sex, well that would happen only when she wanted. And always in the missionary position. Immediately after sex (during which she could continue the nagging), she would immediately kick him out of bed to take another shower, washing off the sweat and sex off his body, while she would put fresh sheets on the bed. Her requirements for sex would make him give up even asking for it, would make him not even want to consider being with her.
I was brought back to reality when the banquet room door opened and closed. I braced myself for her assault.
Instead, I was greeted by an incredibly sexy man, tall, with piercing blue eyes. He walked up to the coat room, set down his glass of wine and handed me a ticket.
"I believe my wife wants her lipstick out of her coat pocket." He smiled as he said it.
"Yes sir, I just needed the ticket to find the coat." I reached out for the ticket, the tips of my fingers grabbing it. He didn''t let go.
"Sorry for anything she may have said. She can be a bit ..."
"Bitchy?" My hand flew from the ticket to my mouth. Shit. There went any hope of working here again.
"I was going to say bossy, but yeah. Bitchy. Bitchy is exactly the word for her." His smile melted away my worries.
"Let me get that coat for you, sir."
I took the ticket and headed back into the recesses of the room, looking for the rack that held her coat. I found the coat and was walking back to the counter with it. He came from around a rack and startled me.
"Here's the coat, if you'd like to get the lipstick." I was not about to go through her pocket, afraid that she might find out.
I handed him the coat and he reached for my hand, not the coat. He pulled me closer and kissed me, tentatively. When my lips responded, parting to him, he kissed me deeper.
I felt him taking the coat from my hand, and I gladly released it, wrapping my arms around him. He pulled away, and cleared his throat. "Sorry. I didn't mean to...."
"I did." I grabbed him again, my hands on his ass.
When he pulled away again, I thought he would walk out. I was wrong. He laid his wife's coat on the floor, spreading it out. Without a word, I lay down on it, my eyes inviting him down with me. He was in a dark suit and tie. I had on my banquet gear (white button-down shirt, black vest and pants). But it didn't take long for either of us to toss aside our jacket or vest, open our shirts and rip off our pants. His body covered mine as he trailed his needy kisses from my mouth to my neck to my tits ... to my wet pussy. He peeled back my black panties as his tongue plunged into my cunt. My back involuntarily arched, my hips grinding against him. I was grabbing at his wife's coat below me, my juices flowing out of me faster than he could suck up. My cum had to be soaking her coat.
His tongue kept working on my clit with two fingers in my pussy. His fingers were deep in me, my pussy opening to him. His fingers hooked upward, rubbing my g-spot continuously as he sucked my clit into his mouth, his teeth grazing against that that throbbing flesh. I was cumming still, again ...
"Fuck me...fuck me." I was moaning and gasping, trying to be quiet but .... "Now, fuck me." It was my turn to be bossy.
He gladly obliged. His mouth was inches from mine as his cock pushed into me. He leaned closer and bit my lip, pulling it up, my head tilting back. The fucking was hot, but fast. I was cumming again soon, my legs wrapping tight around his hips, locking at the ankles, pulling him deeper into me. I wasn't going to let him pull out of me. I wanted his cum shooting deep inside.
He didn't even attempt to pull out. He was thrusting and moaning. Kisses deep. "Top," I muttered. "Let me on top."
He rolled over instantly, onto his wife's wet coat. I mounted his hard cock, grabbing my lace-clad tits. He grabbed the tail of my shirt, holding it behind me so that he could see it all. See my pussy swallowing his cock. See my hard dark nipples through the lace. See my cum covering him.
"Gonna...." He couldn't finish the sentence, but I felt his cum shooting into me. Hot cum filling me, then slowly sliding back out with my cum. I collapsed onto him, kissing him.
He reached down, fumbling for something on the floor. His hand appeared with a tube of lipstick. He used it to write his number on my flat stomach. "You are the best fuck. Call me."
I sucked his cock clean as he was standing, getting dressed. He left the coat on the floor, helping me button my shirt, one last grab of my tits. He kissed me, again nibbling my lower lip.
"You better call. And don't worry about the wet spot. I'll just tell her I spilled my wine on it. She already hates me." He smiled as he walked away, tossing her lipstick into the air.
I stood in the coat room wondering if the moment had been real. Wondering all night if that had really happened. But undressing at home that night, and seeing his phone number reflected in the mirror let me know that it was.
It's still chilly out, and it's only going to get a lot colder. I called my boss this afternoon and told him that I would work the coat room all winter. It doesn't pay as much as a bartender, but the tips are fantastic!
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Submitted by:
Paige
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