One Trick Penny – Chapter 6 - Sex Stories

One Trick Penny – Chapter 6

... for speaking to me. I had a bunch of new ideas from things she’d told me about her own adventures. Still, something stopped me. “Could we get together again? I really enjoy your company.” I was speaking the truth. I didn’t have any real female friends. The married woman in my sphere had kids or were about to. The single girls, had nothing in common with me anymore. Since I didn’t work, there were no women business associates. I felt a connection with Quinn that I didn’t with anyone else. I wanted her as a friend. She smiled. I’m sure it amused her that a Pro-tender like me wanted to hang with a dedicated professional sex worker like her. “Sure, I’m off on Tuesday. I usually go to a nude beach to chill. You want to join me? You can tell me how your weekend went with your solo patron.” She handed me a business card. It had her cell number and the name of her company, Quinn’s Personal Fitness. She laughed, “I do help keep my clients in rock hard shape.” I arrived home just before Dave. He was clueless about my day’s adventures, although he was surprised when I was the one that instigated sex that night; even more so, when I insisted on him going down on him twice. He would have become very suspicious had he known I masturbated for an hour after he fell asleep. ~ ~ ~ By Friday night, I had a wild evening mapped out for Penny. She met Dave at the customary motel room. By now, I was getting a discount rate that made it cheaper to rent for a full week at a time. He knocked on the ...

... door and expected to come inside once I opened it. “Sorry, Baby. You’re taking me out tonight. They’re bug bombing the room,” I lied. “Do you want to go to my house?” “Nah, I have a better place in mind.” I hopped into the passenger seat of his two-seater sports car. This will be a challenge of my flexibility, I thought as I looked over the interior. I directed him to a parking structure miles away. The building was down near the airport, but was the farthest away of all the others. It didn’t do nearly the business the rest did, but then the owners had other ways of making their money. We drove to a booth, and Dave stopped the car at a barrier gate. The attendant, a man in a navy blue watch cap and bulky olive-drab cloth jacket, looked us over. I had on a short skirt and basket weave heels with a tie up the front leather vest that gave ample viability to my cleavage and side boob. He said, “Top level, that’ll be fifty for two hours.” Dave went on about how weird it seemed to pay going into a parking garage and then how the place was ridiculously expensive. He really was completely clueless sometimes; I thought to myself. Nobody parking on the top level was going to the airport. There was an entirely different kind of flying we’d be doing. The place was poorly lit with failing fluoresce tubes, half of which had burned out long ago, as the tires screeched around the hairpin corners up five levels. At the fifth level we reached another barrier armature. Dave inserted the ticket ...