102 comments/  277589 views/  389 favorites

Impersonating Brianne

By: HLD



"Hello, Mr. Gibson?" she said as the door opened.

The man at the door was in his mid-thirties. Attractive, if a little average-looking.

"Yes," he replied in a kind voice. "You must be Marissa. Please come in."

"Thank you," she said. He led her through the large house to the kitchen area. It looked like he had been reading the paper.

He motioned to one of the chairs at the table. "Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Coke? Orange juice?"

"No, thank you," she replied, wondering why he would be hiring a call girl. The house had a warm feeling to it. The décor was country with lots of little homey touches.

Topping off his coffee cup, the man sat at the table opposite her.

"Has Laurie explained the situation to you?" he asked casually.

"Not really, Mr. Gibson. She—"

"Please," he waved his hand. "Call me Alan."

"Thank you, Alan. She just said you were going out of town next week and needed someone to go with you." Marissa shifted uncomfortably. She didn't like taking on long-term clients because they sometimes wanted a relationship she didn't. Marissa was in it for the money; nothing more, nothing less. And she liked one night stands. At first, she had thought to turn this job down, too, but Laurie promised that she'd make too much to pass it up.

"That's essentially correct," he said. Marissa looked him over again. He was obviously well-to-do, but not in an arrogant, opulent way. The way he spoke to her wasn't condescending, unlike most of her other clients. He was treating her as if she were his equal. In a sense, she was; they were both businesspeople, and this was just another business relationship for each of them.

"I've got a conference next week in Las Vegas and I'd like for you to come with me." He reached into the briefcase under the table and pulled out a legal pad with some notes on it. "We'll be gone Sunday through Sunday. The conference has a number of social and business functions. You will accompany me to all of them, although there will also be plenty of time for you to spend on your own while I'm in meetings."

He reached into the briefcase again and brought out an envelope. He counted out five crisp $100 bills and pushed them across the table.

"This is for your time today. If you would like to go to Las Vegas with me, there are a couple of errands I would like for you to run with me." Alan paused for a moment, and then flashed Marissa an embarrassed smile. "I'm not really sure how this works, so you might want to take over from here."

"What do you expect from me while we're on this trip?" she asked, slipping the money into her billfold. She always liked to get everything on the table from the start. Laurie maintained a stable of good-looking and sexually adept call girls, but was very discriminating with her clientele. She screened all prospective clients and did not tolerate any abuse of her girls. Laurie had an interview with Alan before sending Marissa out to meet him, and she was generally a pretty good judge of character. Marissa got the feeling that Alan was going to be one of her better jobs.

"I need someone to accompany me to all of the social activities. We'll come up with something to explain our . . . relationship. After the meetings, there is usually a meet-and-greet each night. I will pay for you to register with the conference as a guest which will get you into all the functions. I will also pay for your food while we're there and any activities we do together," he said. "Anything you do on your own—like shopping or gambling—comes out of your pocket."

Alan shifted uncomfortably. "In addition, you will be available for me sexually all week."

Marissa smiled inwardly, but kept her expression carefully neutral. This was definitely his first time with a "working girl".

"Let's talk pay," Marissa said. "Laurie should have told you that my rate is $2,500 per day."

"She did."

"I don't do anything kinky," she said and rattled off a list of acts she would not perform or take part in, "And you must wear a condom for anything involving penetration."

"I was going to ask you about that . . . I really don't like using condoms," Alan's voice trailed off. Laurie had told him about this provision that she demanded of all her girls, but he had learned in life that everything is negotiable. He watched Marissa's expression carefully, bracing himself for the rejection of his proposal. "What if we both went in for STD tests—which I will pay for—and if I paid for the birth control method of your choice?"

Marissa thought for a second.

"If you see something you don't like on the tests, you can back out at any time," he continued, watching her eyes.

"I've had Norplant for three years now," Marissa said, her face unreadable. "Birth control isn't the problem."

Alan thought she would probably go for it, but that the businesswoman in her wanted something in return. "What if I got you Lasik? You'd never have to wear those contacts again?"

That caught her completely off guard. Here was a guy willing to pay for all sorts of blood work as well as for $3,000 laser eye surgery. And he had looked close enough to notice she wore contacts.

He must really hate condoms, Marissa thought. She wavered for a second, but when she added up in her head how much money she would be passing up if she said no, she gave in.

"Okay," she said. "But if anything shows up on your tests, the whole deal is off."

"Excellent," Alan smiled, and Marissa was immediately taken aback. There was something about him. His smile was very disarming and sincere. In her line of work, cynicism was the rule, not the exception. "If you don't mind, let's get running on our errands."

He finished off the last few bites of his bagel, grabbed his half-empty coffee mug and then retreated into his bedroom. Marissa took the time to look around his kitchen and living room. He had not decorated it; that much was clear. In a couple of places, there were piles of papers: notes, bills, unopened letters and the like. Not dirty or messy. Everything was organised in some kind of system, and Alan surely knew where things were, but it appeared to be a lot of clutter.

By comparison, the rest of the house was filled with antiques and knickknacks. The furniture matched the paint on the walls which matched the borders which matched the pillows on the couch. There was artwork on the walls that no single straight man would have ever bought or arranged. It was as if someone with good taste and an eye for detail had decorated the house for Alan then left, and he had never changed a thing.

After a couple of minutes, Alan led Marissa out to his car and they ran their errands. Along the way, they talked. Of course, he didn't want any of his professional colleagues to know he had brought a call girl to a conference, so they got to know one another. His complete and utter lack of pretense soon had Marissa forgetting that he was paying her to be with him, even if there was no sex involved. He asked about her interests, and while he never asked about her work, he seemed genuinely interested in her personally.

Their first stop was a doctor's office. After signing in, the two were taken back for a physical examination and blood screenings. The process was fast and mostly painless.

Next, the two went to a Lasik clinic, where it seemed like they were ready to take her on the spot. Their eagerness put Marissa off, but when Alan told her that he had his own laser eye surgery there, she felt a little better. She made an appointment for a day when a friend could pick her up, but before their trip.

After a quick bite to eat, their final stop was a tailor shop. Soon, Marissa was up on a stand as a young woman quickly took her measurements. Alan offered no explanation, but throughout the day, he was polite and kind.

With their errands complete, Alan drove back to his house. Marissa went to her car.

"It was nice to meet you," he said with a warm smile. She found that she had very much enjoyed the other's company. It had been a long time since she had spent time with a man who did not want to just do his business and then be done with her. 

"It was my pleasure." Marissa replied with a matching smile.

Alan handed her one final packet. Inside the envelope were five more crisp $100 bills and a list. "There are some things you will need for the trip. It is business, after all, and you should be dressed appropriately. If you don't have something, there should be more than enough money there to go get it. If you spend more than that, you're on your own."

Marissa stared at him for a second, a flash of disbelief in her eyes. None of her clients had ever offered her even a fraction of the consideration, generosity or respect Alan had shown her.

"If you have any problems with the Lasik place, give me a call." He handed her a business card with his home phone and his cell phone number on it. "Our test results should be back by Thursday. Can you meet me at the doctor's then?"

Nothing came back on either of their tests and Sunday morning the pair was on a plane to Las Vegas. It was the first time she had ever flown first-class, and she had $5,000 in cash in her purse, an advance on her services for the week. Also in her purse was a big bottle of saline drops to keep her eyes moist, but otherwise, her surgically-enhanced vision was a perfect 20/20.

The two had concocted a story claiming to be business partners with something of a romantic interest between them. The show they were attending was a food and beverage expo, specifically for entrepreneurs opening and running non-franchise restaurants. Alan had inherited a fair amount of money from his parents and went to college. After graduating from Davidson, he earned a Ph.D. in history from Columbia and had written a couple of reasonably successful books. 

Although he did fairly well for himself as an author and as a university professor, he also wanted to try his hand at business. He had saved up some money and was about to invest it all in an Italian restaurant. Marissa wondered if he was going to write off her involvement in this trip as a business expense.

He asked a lot of questions about her, which she answered. Sometimes evasively, usually honestly. Because of his easy-going manner, she never even considered lying to him. However, when she tried to probe him about his personal life, he said virtually nothing.

Their plane landed at McCarron International Airport and soon the two were at the rental car counter, picking up a Toyota Solara convertible. He then drove to their hotel, the Luxor, a casino/resort in the shape of a giant pyramid. Even though it was spring, it was still warm out, so they were glad that they would be spending the majority of their stay indoors.

After dropping the car of with the valet and checking into the hotel, they went up to their room. Marissa was surprised that Alan had not laid a hand on her throughout the entire trip. He was in business mode. They got settled in and began unpacking a few things. 

It was a one bedroom suite, located in the main pyramid. There was a sitting room with a table, desk and hookup for a laptop computer. A cabinet hid the television. Through a doorway, there was a bedroom with a large bathroom that featured a stand-up shower and jacuzzi tub.

Marissa checked the clock. It was 2:00 pm Pacific Time. 

"Let's go get registered," Alan said, pulling a folder out of his briefcase. "Would you like to be a guest or a conferee?"

"What's the difference?"

"About two hundred bucks," he smiled. "A conferee gets to attend lots of boring seminars. Of course, you could probably go to the seminars anyway. I doubt they'll be checking name badges at the doors. Want to open a restaurant?"

Marissa smiled back. "No, but thanks for the offer."

The pair went down to the conference center, which was bustling with activity. Both were dressed casually and by all appearances, they were just another pair of entrepreneurs.

He registered her as a conferee anyway, just to get an extra packet with all the free stuff, which included a conference schedule, name badges, a big cache of goodies from some vendors attending the conference, meal tickets for the luncheons and a sturdy backpack to hold everything.

Along the way, Alan was quick to meet as many folks as he could and began networking with a vengeance. Marissa stood quietly at his side, making polite conversation, appearing interested and letting him do all the talking.

After a while, the pair headed back up to their room. Alan went into the bathroom and washed up. Marissa waited for him, not really knowing what to expect. She was a call girl, but this was turning out to be the most unusual job she had ever taken. She checked her watch; some of her other clients would have banged her three times by now.

"There's a lounge down on the first floor," he said to her. "Freshen up and we'll go get something to eat."

Then he was gone.

A little while later, she found him sitting at the bar. He was wearing a polo shirt and khakis. A drink sat on the counter, but it was nearly full, as if he had only sipped at it. Marissa sat down next to him. He must not have heard her because he continued to stare off, his eyes blankly fixed on some point well outside the casino floor that was in front of him.

The soft touch of her hand on his arm brought Alan back to the present. 

"I'm sorry," he stammered. "I didn't see you come in. You look great."

Unconsciously, Marissa blushed. She had never been complimented like that by a client. If they said anything at all about her appearance, it was usually that she was hot or sexy. And then it was off to third base.

"Thank you," she managed to reply. She didn't think much about what she had on, a simple blouse and skirt. Her hair was pulled back and she had put on a little make-up, but she otherwise felt rather plain.

"Are you hungry?" Alan asked.

"I'm starved, to tell the truth."

"Where would you like to go?"

Marissa had to pause for a moment. This job was getting weirder by the minute. No client had ever asked her what she liked, and he was ready to let her pick the restaurant. She was half-tempted to mention the very pricey steak house in the Luxor just to see if he would take her there, but decided against pushing her luck. "I don't know. I've never been to Vegas before."

"I've heard good things about the buffet over at the Rio." Alan pushed his drink away and stood. "Why don't we go check it out?"

"That sounds good." Marissa slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and the two headed off to the main entrance to the casino. The valet retrieved their car and soon they were headed off to dinner.

The Rio is off the Strip, but the buffet alone makes the trip worthwhile. Once they got a table, there were any number of stations with all sorts of food available. Everything from burgers and fries to sushi to Mongolian barbeque to pasta to gyros to fish and chips was available. The food was excellent, even if it was a buffet. They split a big 44 ounce margarita, and between the two of them, still managed to get only half of it down.

Alan continued to make conversation. He was unfailingly polite, charming even. Marissa wondered if he was some sort of serial killer. She tried once again to probe him, trying to figure out why he needed a call girl to accompany him on this trip. 

She made little headway, although a couple of times caught Alan using the word "we" when discussing his plans for the restaurant and how it had been a long-time dream.

After dinner, they drove up and down the Strip, just to see Las Vegas in all of its magnificent neon glory, and then headed back to the Luxor. Once the sun went down, the night air was bearable and the two rode along with the convertible top open, getting the full effect of the Strip.

Alan's hand absently rested on her leg. Out of curiosity, Marissa gently put her hand over his to see how he would react. His fingers unconsciously wrapped around hers. Neither said a word.

Once again, they dropped the car off with a valet and were walking arm in arm across the floor of the casino. He led her to a lounge area where a five piece band was playing.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked.

Marissa blinked in surprise. He took her lack of a no as a yes and led her to the dance floor. There were a handful of other couples already out but there was plenty of space.

He took one of her hands in his and placed the other on his shoulder. Soon he had her moving to the music. Alan was a good lead; he never got ahead of her and even got Marissa (and her two left feet) doing more than just swaying back and forth.

The song changed and Marissa saw Alan's eyes go blank for a second. He pulled her close to him. She could smell his cologne and feel his breath on her neck. Once again, he was staring off into space. His movement slowed.

She pressed her cheek against his as the music continued to play. He was lost to some distant memory. Marissa pulled back enough to get a good look at his face. There was pain in his eyes, but at the same time she could sense that his reverie was fixated on a happy moment in his life, some day long since past that he had vowed never to forget.

Marissa danced with him, following his lead and leaving Alan to his private thoughts.

After a few minutes, the song changed again and he seemed to snap back to the present. He blinked away the cobwebs. He started to say something, but he caught himself before his voice broke.

Marissa smiled gently. She looked into his eyes and for the first time, didn't see a client. She saw a broken-hearted man who was nervously smiling back at her.

"You know," she whispered in his ear. "You don't have to try so hard."

"What do you mean?" He hadn't released her from his close embrace.

"I'm a sure thing, Alan," she laughed teasingly. "You don't have to buy me dinner and take me dancing to get me to sleep with you."

He blushed slightly.

Marissa led him from the dance floor. They went up to their room in silence, absently holding hands.

Alan walked through the suite, dropping his wallet and keys on the table by the door. Marissa followed him to the bedroom. He fished a toiletry kit out of his suitcase and went to the bathroom. She found him brushing his teeth and took care of herself in the second sink.

He left her there and went back into the bedroom. After a couple of minutes, she found him lying on the bed with the covers already pulled down. The television was on but Alan wasn't really watching it. She noticed that he had hung up his pants and shirt in the closet and was wearing only a pair of boxer shorts and an undershirt.

Once again, Alan was staring off into space. Marissa turned all the lights off. She stood next to the bed wearing only a bathrobe that the Luxor had graciously provided. Her hair hung down over her shoulders.

He turned to her. The light from the TV bathed Marissa in a soft glow. Alan's eyes flashed with recognition for a second. His expression was part sadness. Part desire.

Marissa went to the window and parted the heavy curtains. They were staying on the side facing away from the Strip, so the flashing neon wasn't coming into their room. Pressing a button on the remote control, Alan turned the television off. The room filled with moonlight.

Alan couldn't take his eyes off her. Standing at the edge of the bed, with her back to the window, Marissa slipped the robe off her shoulders. It fell to the ground. She heard Alan draw in a sharp breath.

His face was white. It was as if he had seen a ghost.

Moving slowly, Marissa sat Alan up and gently pulled his shirt over his head. Then she pressed him back on to the pillows. She put her hands on his hips and slipped him out of his boxers.

All the while, she noticed that his gaze was fixed on her, but she was acutely aware that he was seeing someone else.


Impersonating Brianne Ch. 02



This is the second part of a series entitled "Impersonating Brianne". It picks up a couple of days after the last chapter ended. If you haven't read the first part, I recommend that you do so. Enjoy!

*************************** 

Marissa's heart was pounding. Her stomach fluttered. She fidgeted nervously. And it wasn't because of turbulence or flight anxiety.

Alan was next to her, snoring softly. She watched him sleeping. His face was free of worry and stress. He looked so peaceful. So handsome.

She held his hand, enjoying the warmth of his touch.

Still, she could not reconcile the feelings within her, struggling for control. Their trip was almost over.

A single thought raced through her mind.

What am I going to do?

********************* 

The next two days in Las Vegas passed quickly.

Wednesday morning, Alan woke up and went back to his seminars. Marissa took the rental car and ran some errands. After a quickie and then lunch, the two were in the exhibition hall, closing a sixty-five thousand dollar deal on some equipment for the restaurant's kitchen. Afterwards, he went back to his meetings, and she went back to the blackjack tables.

The conference had a banquet that night. The pair ate and danced in their own little world, oblivious to everyone around them. After all, their business was done, and they found they were enjoying each other's company more and more.

The last day of the conference began on Thursday morning. While Alan went to the closing sessions, Marissa took the car out again for some final business. After the conference was over, Alan drove her around town and they did touristy things. The visited the shops a Caesars Palace, the Star Trek Experience at the Las Vegas Hilton and went downtown to see Fremont Street.

All the while, they held hands, walked arm in arm and acted like lovers, not like a call girl and her client.

Marissa liked Alan, and she felt that he liked her, too. She was dreading the end of the week because it would force them to address their relationship, something neither of them seemed eager to do.

After their talk about Brianne on Tuesday night, Alan was much more outgoing and even more engaging than he was before. It was as if a giant weight had been lifted from his shoulders. 

At first, Marissa felt threatened by Brianne. She didn't like that feeling. To her, it meant that Alan had gotten to her, and that was unsettling. He stirred feelings within her, feelings that she never had the luxury of acknowledging in her line of work.

Marissa had been a call girl for the last few years. Trading her body for money, she didn't allow herself the luxury of emotional investment or personal attachment.

She wasn't in the business because she was a drug addict or had no where else to turn. For her, it was all about the money. Marissa had a college degree, but never found a job that paid as well as working for Laurie. Even after taking the madam's share off the top, Alan was paying her more per day that she had ever made in a week working a regular 9 to 5 job.

And all it had cost was her self-respect.

Something happened that night, as she and Alan talked about his late wife. It started at the beginning of the week, when she got the feeling that he wasn't going to be like her other clients. It seems strange, but there was a certain amount of comfort in her sex life. Not because it was pleasurable, but because it was regular and there were no expectations. 

Men had sex with her. She got paid. It was cut and dry. There was no middle ground. No relationship beyond a simple business transaction.

Not with Alan, though.

The more he talked about Brianne, though, the more uncomfortable Marissa felt. Alan was opening up to her. Although she was scared of the way she responded, she felt like she was getting close to him. She realised just how lonely her life was. Not that she had a bad life, but she realised just how much she was missing out on. All for the sake of a few dollars.

Marissa also found herself talking to Alan more. She didn't acknowledge it then, but she was investing herself in him and in their relationship. She was also setting herself up. Both of them knew that initially their relationship was on a timer, but she could never have imagined that she would have to make a heartbreaking decision a week later.

As Alan talked about Brianne, Marissa's feelings changed from jealously and insecurity to warmth. She liked that he recalled little things about her, like what she liked to drink with meals or where she had gone on vacation with her parents when she was little. Marissa liked that he treasured memories. She liked that Alan could tell her what he and Brianne had for dinner on the night they saw Siegfried and Roy when they had come to Las Vegas to be married. She liked that he wasn't afraid of commitment or falling in love.

Now if she could only get past her own aversion to commitments and attachments.

She knew Brianne wasn't going to show up one day and take Alan back. Marissa thought Alan liked her as much as she liked him, once she could admit that to herself. What she didn't know was if she was willing to let him get through the barriers she had spent a lifetime putting up around herself.

Her feelings came to a head early Friday morning. 

On Thursday, after driving downtown and making a few dollars off the blackjack tables at the Golden Nugget, she and Alan stopped to see the water show at the Bellagio on Thursday night.

With soft romantic music playing through strategically-placed speakers, she leaned back into Alan's arms. He held her tenderly. Neither said a word. His embrace was comforting. Secure.

Even amidst the crowd gathered to see the show, she felt like they were alone. She was losing herself to his charm. Afterwards, she drew out a pocked-sized digital camera and had a passerby take a picture of them together, with the lights and water sprays of the Bellagio behind them.

This was something Alan and Brianne had not done on their previous trip to Las Vegas; the Bellagio hadn't been built then. Along with some of the other pictures she had taken throughout the day, these were the first of their memories together.

They went back to their room at the Luxor and made love under the moonlight that shone through the windows.

When she awoke, the sun was coming up. Alan must have gotten up in the middle of the night because the curtains were closed. His naked body was spooned up against hers. His arm was around her. She could feel his shallow breath on the back of her neck.

Realising where she was, she seemed to be fully awake instantly. Her heart started to pound.

She wanted to sit up, but instead tried to calm herself. A couple of deep breaths later, her pulse was down and she no longer had the urge to get up and leave her lover.

Instead she rolled Alan on to his back. He started snoring softly.

Her hand ran along his jawbone and down his neck. 

"What have you done to me, Alan?" Marissa whispered.

She watched his chest rise and fall.

"I can't stand sleeping with someone touching me, but when you hold me, I never want you to let me go." Her voice was soft.

This was the first time they had woken up together. All week, Alan had to get up early and be in meetings and seminars first thing in the morning while she slept in. With the conference over, she had him all to herself.

She reached down between her legs and felt the warm semen that was slowly leaking out of her, left over from the night before. Alan had convinced her to break one of her call girl rules: Never let a john cum in anything other than a condom.

Just the feeling of the slippery fluid gave her chills. The memories of the orgasms she had with Alan made her toes tingle. 

"Why do you have to be such a nice guy?" Marissa said quietly, even knowing that Alan wouldn't respond. "Why couldn't you be just another jackass client? I wouldn't feel bad about taking your money then."

And I wouldn't have to break your heart. The words were on her lips but she couldn't bring herself to say them aloud, even if Alan couldn't hear her. Or my own.

Alan stirred slightly and she hurriedly brushed the tears out of her eyes. She leaned over and kissed him. A sleepy smile was on his lips.

She gently kissed her way down his body, giving Alan the kind of good morning greeting every guy likes.

A short time later, the two were in the shower, each washing the other's body. They playfully groped and tickled each other under the warm water.

"So what's the plan tonight?" Marissa asked.

Although his smile was sincere, his laugh was a little hollow. There was a distant look in his eye. This would have been his anniversary and Marissa couldn't blame him for being a little distracted.

"It's a surprise." He slapped her gently across the backside.

"Don't start that if you're not going to finish it," she warned him with a sly wink.

"Marissa," he started. There was a look in his eyes that made her shiver with anticipated pleasure. "If I were ten years younger, you would be begging me for mercy."

"I never beg," she replied with a huff of mock indignation.

Alan smiled gently and pulled her close. His lips were warm. As the water poured over their bodies, she folded into his embrace. The feeling of his body pressed against hers sent a chill down her spine.

With a sigh, he pulled back and released her. Then, Alan opened the glass door to the stand-up shower. Marissa let out a disappointed sigh of her own and turned off the water. Alan handed her a towel and the two dried off.

"Why don't you go order us some breakfast," Alan suggested as he hunted around for his electric razor.

"What do you want?"

"Surprise me."

Marissa wrapped her hair in a towel and then slipped into one of the Luxor's soft bathrobes.

She went through the bedroom and stopped in her tracks when she opened the door to the outer room. 

There were flowers everywhere. 

They covered the coffee table and the desk. Daises. Roses. Carnations. Tulips. Bouquets were on every end table and stand, even on the floor. On the couch, there was a basket full of chocolates and other goodies next to a carefully-wrapped present and a card with her name on it.

Her hands trembling, she opened the card to find Alan's neat print.

Marissa,

I can't thank you enough for what you have done for me this week.

It's more than the deal you made with TGR or the help you've given me with the restaurant.

Brianne has been on my mind a lot lately. You are the first person I have talked to about her since she died. She was taken from me without warning and my heart is still broken. I can't live in the past and I know that, but she was the center of my life for so long. You've helped me realise that there is life after loss. 

I'm sorry if I've made you feel uncomfortable when I talk about her, but you're always willing to listen and you are so easy for me to talk to.

You are a special woman and have done more for me than I ever could have asked.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

—Alan 

Marissa set the card down and unwrapped the present. In a simple wooden picture frame, she found a picture of her and Alan from the night before. They were standing in front of the Bellagio. They both had goofy grins on their faces. His arms were around her, holding her close.

"You bastard." Her voice was barely audible.

She turned and looked back over her shoulder. Through her tears, she could barely see Alan standing in the doorway, grinning sheepishly.

Her blood boiled with anger. Not at Alan. At herself. For becoming so jaded. For giving up hope. She was angry with fate for bringing this man into her life as a paying client. She cursed the day she gave up being a woman and became a whore. All her pent up emotions came boiling to the surface.

Marissa stared at Alan for a moment. Time seemed to stop.

She threw the card and picture down on the couch and stalked towards Alan.

Marissa threw herself into his arms. Hunger consumed her. It wasn't just sexual desire. With Alan, she felt loved and wanted. Not for her body. Not for her talents in the bedroom. Simply for being herself.

Alan wasn't fully prepared for her assault and staggered back a step or two. Marissa was all over him. She took his face in her hands and she kissed him hard, even as he wrapped his arms around her.

He backpedaled until he bumped into the bed. Marissa put her feet on the floor and her hands tore at his bathrobe. Then she flung her own across the room.

She gave him a savage push and Alan fell back on the bed. 

Marissa jumped on top of him, her naked body hot with desire. She bit his neck and collarbone. 

His hands squeezed her breasts.

Their eyes locked together.

"I am sooooooooo going to fuck your brains out," Marissa vowed.

Alan's only response was a knowing smile. There was a hint of sadness in his eyes, but he blinked that away quickly. His gaze transfixed her. Something passed between them. Something inexplicable. Something that shook Marissa to her very core.

She leaned down and kissed Alan. 

Hard. 

Passionately. 

Hungrily. 

Lustily.

As Alan's hands roamed her body, Marissa let him up long enough so he could move to the center of the unmade bed. Then, she took his hands and pinned them down. He put up a token struggle, but otherwise willingly met his fate.

They continued to kiss. Marissa pressed her body against his. Alan's cock was hard, brought to attention by his lover's eagerness.

Marissa started to grind her pussy against him and soon felt the head of his cock against the entrance to her sex.

She let out a long sigh as Alan entered her. She threw her head back as his length penetrated her.

They both gasped when he hit bottom.

Still holding his hands, Marissa impaled herself on Alan.

Any semblance of control she had was long gone. Lust consumed her. Desire clouded her thoughts.

Up and down she bounced. 

Her hips moved back and forth. Her clit rubbed against him.

Alan's sex filled her up.

He tried to move his hands, but Marissa still held him down.

She was out of control.

Her toes started to tingle.

Their teeth knocked together with wet, slobbery kisses.

Up and down.

Alan didn't move as Marissa rode him. His cock stood straight up in the air as her pussy enveloped it. 

He couldn't speak because Marissa's tongue was in his mouth.

Marissa closed her eyes. 

Up and down.

Faster. Harder.

She sat up, releasing his hands. They went to her breasts and Alan squeezed them. Marissa cried out.

Her hands closed over his. She needed to steady herself.

He felt perfect inside her.

A dangerous thought raced through her mind. I never want to be with anyone else ever again.

Marissa squeezed her eyes shut as the tears began to flow. Overcome with desire, she let out a gasp and brought herself down hard on Alan.

She felt his hips push upward. 

Her hands clasped Alan tighter. 

With one final cry, the room started to spin. The head of Alan's cock was flaring inside her.

The tingling in her toes spread to her whole body.

She felt lightheaded. 

And then she seemed to explode.

Waves of pleasure wracked Marissa's body. She continued to grind her hips against her lover. 

It seemed as if the orgasm would never end.

There were flashes in the corners of her eyes. Her hypersensitive nipples were pressed flat against Alan's palms.

Her pussy flooded with nectar, mixing with Alan's exertions.

Alan tried to steady her, but she collapsed anyway.

Into the safety and comfort of his loving embrace.

*************************** 

"How did you get all those flowers into the room?" Marissa asked. She couldn't see Alan, but she knew he was right next to her.

"You're a heavy sleeper," he replied, a touch of amusement in his voice. 

Only around you, she thought. In truth, Marissa was a very light sleeper, but there was something about Alan that put her off guard.

"And what about the picture?"

"I . . . uh, took the memory card out of your camera and had the photo shop on the main floor make me a print," Alan said. "I hope you don't mind."

"They were open in the middle of the night?"

"The service desk is always open. Especially when you drop the name of a favoured guest, Miss High Roller."

That caused Marissa to chuckle.

The hands on her body moved down from her shoulders to the middle of her back.

She assumed that the woman giving Alan a massage on the next table over was doing just as good a job because he moaned with pleasure after she hit just the right spot.

Once she recovered consciousness from their earlier frenetic sex, Marissa and Alan shared a room service breakfast and then went down to the spa.

They were getting the royal treatment. She didn't know how much the afternoon was costing Alan, but she made a mental note to see if her friend—and Luxor pit boss—Taylor could get at least part of the spa bill comped to her. After all, she had wagered a fair amount of money in their casino and that had to count for something, right? At least she was ahead for the week.

The two had some time in the sauna, then a skin treatment and a full body massage, complete with hot stones and aromatherapy. Marissa had never felt so relaxed.

Alan was never far from her. They held hands when they could, but she took great comfort in knowing he was always nearby.

Once they had been worked over by the masseuses, Alan checked the clock on the wall as Marissa pulled a bathrobe around her body. It was close to 3:30.

He slipped into a bathrobe of his own and then went over to the door. Two young women with Luxor nametags were waiting outside. They came into the room behind Alan. He leaned over and gave Marissa quick kiss on the cheek.

"I'll be back to pick you up at six," he said. "Girls, take good care of her."

Tonight was their big date.

Before Marissa could respond, he was gone. The two introduced themselves as Patty and Kyra. They led Marissa to another part of the salon. The next two hours were taken up with a manicure and pedicure, and then it was off to do her hair.

After a thorough wash, Patty asked how she wanted it styled.

"Did Alan say anything to you about it?" Marissa asked.

"No," the other girl replied. "He just said to give you the full treatment, so I guess we can do anything you want."

Marissa thought about the pictures she had seen of Brianne and how she might have worn her hair. 

That is what Alan wants, isn't it? Marissa thought. A date with his wife?

She thought long and hard for a minute. I'm not her. I told him as much the other night. But he was so happy when they were together. Shouldn't I do that much for him?

"Surprise me," Marissa said, not wanting to be the one to make that decision.

Patty spun her around, so she couldn't see the mirror.

The stylist was chatty and engaging. She even trimmed a little off and evened the layers out.

Then Patty really went to work. With pins and hairspray, Marissa's hair was pulled back. She wove some baby's breath into the curls.

After a few minutes, Kyra came back and began putting makeup on Marissa. 

"We're almost out of time," she said apologetically. "I'm sorry to rush you."

Marissa felt like she was 17 again and going to the prom.

Without letting Marissa see herself, Patty and Kyra led Marissa to another room. On a stand was a flowing ballroom dress. It was an elegant deep blue, low-cut but not too much. There was a pair of white, elbow-length gloves that went with it and some matching heels.

Thinking back to the day she and Alan met, Marissa realised this is what he had her measured for. Is it hers?




Impersonating Brianne Ch. 02



The two girls dressed Marissa quickly.

"Do you think this is the night?" Kyra asked conversationally.

"For what?" Marissa was puzzled.

The other girl smiled. "That he's going to ask you to marry him?"

Marissa's jaw dropped.

"Oh," Kyra blushed furiously when she saw the blank expression. "I'm sorry. I just assumed . . . big date . . . gorgeous gown . . . Ohmygod . . ."

"You two just look like you're so in love," Patty said, trying to come to her friend's rescue.

Me? A hooker in love? Marissa's pulse began to race. It took a minute to find her voice. "That would be nice, wouldn't it?"


Kyra didn't say anything else. If she could have disappeared, Marissa thought she would have. Instead she tried to hurriedly finish up Marissa's makeup.

When the final touches were complete, Patty turned Marissa towards a floor-length mirror. 

Marissa's heart jumped into her throat.

All that was missing were the glass slippers.

"Thank you, girls," Marissa said when she could breathe again. 

"You're very welcome," Patty replied. They each gave Marissa a quick hug, being careful not to smudge any makeup.

They led her out to the sitting area and assured her that her clothes had already been sent up to her room and that the bill had been taken care of.

It was exactly six o'clock, and Alan was no where to be seen.

Marissa fidgeted nervously.

She felt a soft touch on her elbow.

"Ma'am?" The spa manager stood beside her. "Mr. Gibson says he is going to be a few more minutes. He's asked if you would meet him in the main lobby."

Marissa slipped her hand into the crook of his offered arm.

They walked out of the spa and across the floor. As she passed, people fell silent, staring at her. Marissa held her head high as if oblivious to the admiring stares. Her heart raced. She was the princess going to the ball.

She spied Alan talking to someone at the concierge desk. He still hadn't seen her.

The woman behind the counter pointed at Marissa and Alan turned. He was wearing a handsome black tuxedo. There was a corsage on the counter next to him.

Marissa stopped in her tracks. Alan's eyes were fixed on her. Time seemed to stand still. All the ambient noise—from the people, from the slot machines, from the music playing through the overhead speakers—faded away.

"Thank you," Marissa said to the spa manager.

"It was my pleasure. You two have a wonderful evening," he bowed slightly and then walked away.

Alan still hadn't moved. She crossed the distance between them, fully aware of all the eyes upon her.

Is he seeing her? Marissa thought to herself. Or does he see me?

"You look fantastic," he breathed, spellbound.

They stared at each other for a moment longer. Finally, Alan took out the corsage and pinned it on her. Of course, it matched perfectly.

"We'll have that all taken care of when you get back, Mr. Gibson," the concierge said with an envious smile.

Marissa took Alan's arm as he led her out the front doors. Everyone around them stopped as they passed by, as if they had been drawn into a fairy tale for just a moment.

Waiting outside was a white limousine. The driver held the door open as Alan and Marissa got in.

She felt like she was having an out of body experience. It was surreal.

A couple of times, she looked over and saw Alan staring at her. When they made eye contact, he looked away.

Then she took his hand, and their fingers intertwined. They rode to the Paris hotel and casino in silence.

The door opened and Alan went to get out. Marissa caught his hand and pulled him to her. 

They shared a quick kiss.

The touch of Alan's lips was electric.

He pulled back and stepped out of the car. She took his hand and followed.

There, too, people there stared at them as they made their way through the hotel. Alan led her to the Eiffel Tower Restaurant. They were seated at one of the best tables in the house, with a magnificent view of the hotel and the rest of the city.

The lighting was low and romantic.

The food was fantastic and the service superb.

Alan was quiet after they ordered. Marissa tried to engage him in some small talk, but all he did was stare absently at her.

The appetizers arrived.

"This dress is gorgeous," Marissa said, trying to draw Alan out.

"It was Brianne's," he replied, almost apologetically.

The first night they were together, when Alan looked at her, Marissa could tell he was seeing his wife. Their resemblance was close enough. Now . . .

Now there was something different in his gaze.

"She got it for our fifth anniversary." The corners of his mouth turned up into a slight smile as the memory came back to him. "Brianne never liked to shop for clothes. She said she didn't like to spend money on herself. I practically had to hold a gun to her head to get her to go shopping. We found that dress and a couple others, but she didn't want to buy it because it cost so much. The other dresses were pretty, but not nearly as nice. I made her buy it. She deserved it."

"She was a special woman," Marissa said quietly.

"Yes, she was," Alan shifted uncomfortably. "You feel funny wearing her clothes, don't you?"

"A little," Marissa admitted.

"I'm sorry about that," Alan looked away. "I . . . I thought I wanted one more date with her."

Marissa had to remind herself to breathe.

"But you're not her," Alan continued. There wasn't any bitterness in his voice. Only sorrow. "You're just as beautiful, Marissa. You look like my wife, but you walk differently. You carry yourself differently. Your smile is the same but the way you talk isn't."

There was a long pause. It seemed like Alan wanted to say more, but couldn't.

"What do you want now?" Marissa asked softly.

He thought for a minute. "I want a date with you."

Marissa was struck speechless.

"Not a day goes by that I don't think about Brianne or wish she was still with me." Alan took her hands in his. Their appetizers were getting cold. "But when I'm with you . . . I forget about the sadness that has been the center of my life for these last two years."

The lump in Marissa's throat wouldn't go away. She had her answer. Now it was only a question of what she was going to do.

First she had to find the words, though.

"I—" she started, unable to continue.

"Sometimes," Alan said, seeing Marissa struggling to find something to say. "When you turn your head a certain way . . . Or when you laugh . . . I see her for just a second . . . But then . . . then Brianne is gone and I see you again, Marissa . . . And that makes me . . ."

He stopped and looked away again.

Marissa squeezed his hands. They were saved by the servers who brought a bottle of Pinot Noir, some bread and their main courses.

Alan had the duck breast in a white mushroom sauce while Marissa picked at her sea bass over scalloped potatoes.

They ate quietly, each not sure what to say to the other.

A light salad came after the main course, followed by a selection of cheeses. Then it was off to dessert. Marissa had a white chocolate mousse drizzled with dark chocolate and Alan had chocolate crepes served with fresh fruit.

Neither wanted to continue their earlier conversation. Marissa thought Alan didn't want to confuse his feelings for Brianne with his feelings for her. She didn't want to think about them.

With only crumbs on their plates, they sat nervously staring at each other.

Alan wanted to say something. "I . . . Thank you for this week, Marissa."

"It was my pleasure, Alan."

"Look . . . I'm sorry for putting you through this." He looked her in the eyes. She felt like he was reading her mind. If he really knew what she was thinking, she didn't know what she would do. "But I couldn't have gotten through this trip without you."

All Marissa could manage was a slight smile.

There was so much she wanted to say. Things she needed to tell him. Her feelings screamed to be heard. Yet she pushed all that from her mind. 

Not now. This is his night. You'll get your say, she promised herself. Years of conditioned emotional repression took control once again. But not like this.

After a sweet ice wine to end the meal, the two walked back through the Paris hotel to their waiting limo. Marissa was feeling a little more relaxed. Maybe it was the wine she had with dinner. Maybe it was because she was determined not to ruin this night for Alan, his anniversary. The butterflies in her stomach were gone. Instead, she just enjoyed the romance of the night and the gentle touch of her companion.

They left and drove around town for a little while. Alan took her hand and she was eager to be close to him.

After seeing a few of the sights and giving their food a chance to digest, the driver took them back to the Luxor. 

They got out and were once again the center of attention. Marissa felt vaguely self-conscious. She normally liked to keep a low profile, but since she was out of town, she figured no one would recognise her as a high-priced call girl. He led her once again to one of the lounges.

An eight piece band was set up and playing. There were a handful of people dancing, but mostly just watchers. It seemed like a throwback to the "old days" of Vegas, when women wore formal gowns and men wore tuxedos to dinner and Sinatra played the rooms.

Marissa smiled to herself as they made their way to the center of the dance floor. Alan spun her around and took her in his arms.

They slow-danced for the rest of the song. Alan's touch was comforting. Marissa found herself staring into his eyes more than once. He smiled at her.

The music ended and the band leader invited other couples out on to the dance floor. She noticed Alan nod in the direction of the band. The drummer returned a subtle salute and a waltz started to play.

Now it was time for those lessons to pay off.

Shoulders back, chin up, elbows up, chest out, she remembered the instructions of her dance tutor from the days before.

Alan had a surprised look on his face which quickly became a broad smile.

Marissa was still kind of clumsy, but Alan was a good lead. Her feet didn't quite move instinctively and she tried to let herself flow with the music instead of counting along in her head.

She felt like she was floating on air. This man, who had started out the week as a paying client, had become more than just another john. His kindness, his humour. The way he opened up to her, and in turn, got her to open up to him. He almost made her forget what she did for a living. And there she was, wanting only to be in his arms. 

Everything about this night seemed perfect.

"Where did you pick up ballroom dancing?" Alan whispered in her ear. The song was ending and he pulled her close.

"I had a lot of free time while you were in your meetings," she replied.

"You're full of surprises, Marissa," he said and the look in his eyes made her heart skip a beat.

"I didn't want to step all over your toes again," she blushed.

"What else did you learn?" Alan asked.

"Just the basics, so don't try anything funny," Marissa laughed. Alan pulled her closer as the band struck up another tune. "We did a waltz, a foxtrot and a tango."

"No quickstep?"

"Not in two days." 

"I guess I'll have to teach that to you later."

Before she could respond, Marissa found herself tilting her head back as Alan leaned in to kiss her. She melted into his arms.

Is he kissing me or is he kissing her? she thought. It didn't matter. Marissa only cared that she was in his arms, not Brianne.

Finally he pulled back and began leading her around the dance floor again.

As the evening wore on, their dance became more intimate. Alan would tell her which way he was going to turn or where to go next or when he was going to dip her. They got a feel for where the other was going to move. Marissa still managed to step on his toes a time or two, but they were learning to be partners.

They took a couple of breaks, but danced the rest of the night away. Alan coached her along and turned out to be a pretty good teacher. It helped that Marissa was a fast learner. Soon, she found herself a step ahead of Alan's instructions and he didn't need to tell her which way to go next. Everyone else made room for them, and some people seemed to be stopping by just to watch them dance.

A part of Marissa imagined that it was because they looked as if they were made for each other. That their movements had become part of their innermost selves, intertwined and anticipating the other's next step. She found she liked that feeling.

The rest of the night was a blur. All too soon, Marissa heard the band leader announce that it was the last song of their set.

As soon as the music started, Marissa's head shot up. She looked Alan in the eyes. It was the same song they had first danced to the night they arrived in Las Vegas.

This time, though, the distant look was gone from his face. He looked straight into her eyes. There was a flash of sorrow, but it was quickly gone, replaced by a combination of tenderness and—dare she think it?—love.

Marissa's hand rested on Alan's shoulder. She drew in close to him; close enough to feel his breath in her ear. One of his hands rested on the small of her back. The other held her hand tightly.

There are moments in someone's life that they will never forget. That they never want to forget. This was one of those times for Marissa. Everything about her life was temporarily forgotten. The people around them faded away. The only thing she saw was Alan's steady and unwavering gaze. The only thing she felt was his gentle touch. The only thing she heard was the music.

All too soon, the song came to an end. Still Alan held her.

She vaguely heard the band leader speaking, "That was 'There Will Never Be Another You' by the great Andy Williams. Thank you for dancing with us tonight. We hope you enjoy your stay at the Luxor. Good night!"

Marissa didn't want to let Alan go, and she got the feeling that he didn't want that either.

They stood there in each other's arms for several more minutes. The house lights never came up even as the band packed up their instruments.

Alan kissed her again, and she felt lightheaded. A shiver ran the length of her spine.

"Are you hungry?" he asked finally.

"Actually I am," she replied. After all the dancing she had worked up quite an appetite.

Marissa wasn't wearing a watch—and casinos don't have clocks inside—but most of the evening crowd had dispersed.

The other people in the casino gave them a wide berth and Marissa was on the receiving end of many more admiring stares. Her arm rested comfortably in the crook of Alan's arm and even in her heels, she felt as if she were gliding along side him.

They went to Fusia, one of the restaurants in the Luxor, and got a table. Although not as romantic as the Eiffel Tower Restaurant at the Paris casino, Fusia was intimate enough for them. 

They ordered a couple of light appetizers and drinks.

When the server returned, Marissa whispered something in his ear.

"Alan," she started when she saw their server returning with her box. "Tonight has been perfect."

"Thank you," he replied. "I'm glad you were here to share it with me."

"Me, too."

"Thank you," Alan said when the server placed a good-sized gift box on the table in front of him. The server bowed slightly and then left. "What's this?"

Marissa blushed nervously. "You can't have an anniversary without presents."

"You didn't have to do this," Alan looked her in the eyes. There was a flash of pain in his eyes, as if he had forgotten about his wife up until that moment. Then it was gone when he realised that the woman he was with was thinking of him, too.

She smiled. "Open it up."

Carefully, Alan untied the bow and slipped the lid off the box. He dug through the tissue paper and then stopped. He flashed an incredulous look at Marissa. His eyes went back into the box. Then back to Marissa.

Very slowly, he reached in and lifted out his present.

Alan was at a loss for words. Handling it as if it were the Holy Grail itself, Alan set the camera down on the table.

"How did—" he stammered. "You can't . . . Marissa . . . This must have cost a fortune."

"Then it's a good thing I'm ahead of the casino," she replied with a mischievous grin. Then she drew her own pocket camera out of her purse. "Oh, and smile."

He tried, but still looked bewildered.

Marissa watched him flip the camera on and off. He played with the lens. He didn't bother to look through the manual. He dug out all the other accessories along with the leather camera bag Marissa had also gotten for him.

With all the pictures he had of Brianne, Marissa figured he was quite the amateur photographer. She confirmed this over the course of several conversations and thanks to some helpful folks in the Luxor's photo shop, she found one of the best digital SLR cameras money could buy and ordered it through her friends at the Luxor's hospitality desk (with next day delivery, of course). Then it was just a matter of staying ahead at blackjack and craps to pay for it.

As she watched him playing with his new toy, Marissa smiled to herself. After all the nice things Alan had done for her, she felt quite a sense of accomplishment. His smile made her wish she could see it every day.

Is this what unconditional friendship is like? she thought to herself. Almost all of Marissa's relationships were built on people using each other for their own individual gains. All her clients paid for her services. Even though Laurie was friendly and they had gone out for drinks a couple of times, their relationship was still business first. Marissa didn't have many girlfriends because she worked so much and because she never wanted to tell people the truth about what she did for a living. She hadn't gone out on a real date in over a year.

"Marissa," Alan said and the sound of her name in his voice made her heart beat faster. "I can't accept this . . . it's too much—"

"Alan," she snickered. "Shut up. You deserve it. And really: I'm not out anything. I bought that on house money."

"You're that much ahead?" 

More actually, she thought but didn't tell him. "Yes. Did they charge the battery?"

"Um," Alan looked down at the display as Marissa changed the subject on him. "I think so. This is a professional-quality camera. Don't tell me you picked up photography this week, too?"


Marissa giggled. "No. I only learn one new skill a week and ballroom dancing was it for me. The folks here at the hotel were very helpful."

"Especially for a pretty Miss High Roller. I'll have to thank them," Alan said appreciatively. "And thank you."

"You're very welcome." Marissa bowed slightly. Her toes started to tingle when she thought of the ways she could get Alan to show his appreciation. "Now let's eat."

Their small meal arrived just then. They split a spring roll appetizer and a chef's choice sushi and sashimi platter. For dessert, they had the "Fusia Chocolate Decadence". The food was fabulous, but it didn't matter to Marissa. All she wanted was to be with Alan.

Done eating, Alan gathered up his present. With the box under one arm and Marissa on the other, he led her back to their room.

The flowers were still all over the place, their sweet scent filling the suite. Alan set his box down on the desk and then went into the bedroom. He came back out with a garment travel bag that was designed for expensive gowns.

"Let me get one last picture," he said. Raising his new camera, Alan snapped several shots of Marissa in the dress and along with her flowers. She smiled for him and hoped that he would let her have copies of some of them. Marissa was also glad she had several pictures of the two of them from that night, taken at dinner, over their late night snack and even on the dance floor.




Impersonating Brianne Ch. 02



This was going to be one night Marissa would never forget.

Alan set his camera down and helped Marissa out of her dress. Then lovingly, he put it in the travel bag and zipped it up for the return trip home.

Marissa stripped down and slipped into a bathrobe. Very carefully, she pulled all the pins out of her hair and set the baby's breath on the counter in the bathroom. She found a chilled bottle of champagne next to the bed and poured a couple of glasses.

After their big night, Marissa found that she was crashing. So was Alan.

He changed into a pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt. They cuddled on the couch for a while, sipping champagne and holding each other. Neither said a word, fearing that the spell would be broken.

Finally, Marissa found herself nodding off. Between the dancing and the alcohol, she was almost done for the night.

She struggled to her feet and then pulled Alan into the bedroom with her.

The sheets were turned down and they fell into the bed. Alan's arms were around her and he kissed her forehead. 

Marissa nuzzled up against him, her lips biting his neck softly. He moaned and pulled her close.

She reached for him, but he brushed her hands away.

"No," he whispered. "Not tonight."

"What—?" she was confused.

"I just want you to hold me," Alan said softly.

Marissa shifted, uncomfortable for the first time that night. She didn't know what to say.

She lay against him, her head on his shoulder.

"Thank you for tonight." Alan's voice was gentle. 

"I had a wonderful time," Marissa said.

"Me, too." Alan kissed the top of her head. "I—"

He stopped.

"You what, Alan?"

There was a long pause.

"I'm sorry I wanted you to be Brianne," he managed to say. Even in the darkness, Marissa could tell his eyes were full of tears. "You can't be. No one can. And that's okay. That was the wrong reason to bring you with me."

Marissa smiled tenderly, even though she knew Alan couldn't see her in the darkness.

"If you hadn't wanted that, I wouldn't be here," she reminded him. The next words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. "I'm glad I came with you, Alan."

"I'm glad I didn't have to spend another anniversary alone," he said, running his hand through her hair.

"I can think of a better way for someone to spend his anniversary," Marissa purred and pressed her naked body against him. Her lips sought his and they kissed eagerly. 

When her hands tried to push his boxers down, she found Alan holding her wrists.

"No." His voice was hoarse. "Not tonight. I can't make love to you tonight."

"Why not?" Marissa was confused.

Alan took a deep breath. "Because if I do . . . if I do, it will be like I was making love with Brianne. And I don't want to be having her, Marissa. I—"

She knew what he was going to say next and she inhaled sharply. 

"I . . . I want you."

Her eyes welled up. It was all she could do to keep her breathing steady. To hear those words sent Marissa into an emotional tailspin. Some of her other clients enjoyed her company and told her the same thing. But she never felt for them like she did for Alan. Her feelings had never been the issue. Until now.

Alan was the first man she had been with since college that she didn't care how deep his bank account was. He was the first person to make her blood boil with desire. 

She struggled to keep her voice steady. "I want you, too, Alan."

There it was. With five simple words, Marissa set her heart up to be broken.

Alan lifted her chin up and kissed her. It was soft and tender. She lost herself to him.

Wrapped in his embrace, she felt safe and warm and wanted. They drifted off to sleep together, their bodies pressed against one another.

********************* 

Her mouth fell open in a wide yawn. Marissa stretched out her arms and arched her back. Her back popped in a couple of places. The top sheet fell away.

Lazily, she opened her eyes and found Alan in bed next to her. He was on his side, one arm under the pillows. 

As her vision came into focus, she saw that he was watching her. A faint smile was on his lips.

She smiled back. 

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he said softly. Alan was still wearing the t-shirt and shorts he had fallen asleep in.

"Good morning, yourself," Marissa replied. She was lying on her back, naked. Her breasts had fallen to the sides, their nipples pointing straight up. Still, Alan was looking into her eyes, not at her chest. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," he said softly.

"You're a lousy liar," she giggled. "Don't tell me you were waiting for me to wake up to make your move."

Alan didn't reply. His eyes seemed to bore right into her.

"You were beautiful last night," he said.

That made Marissa's smile bigger.

"And you're beautiful this morning," Alan continued.

That made Marissa want him even more. The night before, she was ready to jump him. Everything about their date had been perfect. It was an evening of pure romance. Yet Alan didn't want to sleep with her. Or rather, he really wanted to sleep with her, but he didn't want think that he was only using her as a surrogate for Brianne.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, mister." Marissa smiled seductively.

Alan propped himself up on one arm and Marissa pulled him close to her.

They shared a good morning kiss. She pulled the t-shirt over his head and pushed his boxer shorts down. His cock sprang to attention.

Marissa rolled on to her back and pulled Alan on top of her. She felt the head of his cock pressing against her belly. He kissed his way down her neck.

Alan cupped one of her breasts. Marissa moaned with pleasure.

His lips began moving down to her shoulder.

"Stop teasing me, Alan!" she gasped.

"Teasing you?" he replied. "I thought you girls liked all the kissey-feely stuff before getting down and dirty."

"You can't lead a girl on all night and then not give it to her." Marissa let out an exasperated sigh. She was already wet.

"What do you mean?" Alan said with a grin.

"You know exactly what I mean," she replied with a mock huff. "Flowers. Spa. Dinner. Dancing. Champagne. There was a lot of romance promised last night, but no lovin'. You owe me, mister."

Alan smiled perniciously. "I should—"

"Shut up and fuck me." Marissa couldn't take it any longer. She needed to have Alan inside her. She reached for him and brought his lips to hers. Their kiss was hungry.

"Do what?" 

"You heard me, Alan. Shut up and fuck me." Her voice was desperate. "Make me scream."

Sure enough, he did.

********************* 

When they finally stumbled out of bed, Alan and Marissa took a shower together and got dressed. It was spring, and while the sun was going to be out all day, the heat wasn't stifling. She put on shorts and a sleeveless polo shirt. She found a hat in her suitcase and dug out her sunglasses. Alan was wearing a pair of cargo shorts and a nice t-shirt.

They got in the car and drove first to Hoover Dam. They met the dam guide, took the dam tour, saw the dam generators, watched some of the dam fish and bought a few dam souvenirs. By late morning, the temperature was up in the mid-70s and they were riding around with the top down on the convertible. Alan had thought far enough ahead that there was a bottle of SPF 30 in the glovebox so they greased each other up and then drove west to the other side of Las Vegas.

While in the car, Marissa and Alan held hands. Several times, Marissa looked in one of the mirrors and found that she had a goofy grin on her face. It was almost a mirror image of the one Alan had.

She and Alan talked, mostly about what else they wanted to do in Las Vegas. 

After leaving Hoover Dam, they stopped by Sergio's Italian Gardens Ristorante, a charming Italian restaurant that was off the strip. It came highly recommended from the TGR salesmen.

They sat outdoors and in the shade and shared a light lunch. The staff was friendly and professional and the food was excellent. Marissa only had a salad, but helped herself to some of Alan's pasta.

With the sun still out, they headed west and drove through Red Rock Canyon, stopping at the visitor's center and at a couple of other places to take some pictures.

Marissa watched Alan playing with his new camera and it made her feel good that she had found something for him that he really liked. After a zillion pictures and a couple of chincy t-shirts from the gift shop, they went back to the hotel.

They took a quick shower, washed off the oily suntan lotion and cleaned up for dinner. Marissa put on a yellow sundress while Alan dug out a pressed pair of khakis and a short-sleeve button-down shirt.

Heading downstairs again, they picked the car up from the valet and drove over to the Venetian. Alan had made reservations at the Canaletto restaurant. They got an outdoor table overlooking the Grand Canal, a man-made body of water that runs through the casino property, complete with gondolas and singing gondoliers.

Several times she noticed Alan staring admiringly at her legs or her chest, but when he'd talk, he always looked her in the eyes.

After a couple glasses of wine, both were loosened up a little. She ordered the lamb shank with polenta and Alan had a variety of shellfish in a red sauce over a bed of linguini.

"Can I ask you something?" Marissa said. 

"Sure."

"What did you want to be when you grew up?"

Alan shrugged. "Mostly the usual. Doctor. Astronaut. President."

"How did you get into academia?"

"Dad was a professor and wrote a couple of books," Alan replied. "He was always around the house either writing his next article or grading term papers. The hours are really good, and since there really isn't a large job market for people with PhDs in history, university gigs are the best thing out there. What about you? What did you want to be when you grew up?"

"A pediatrician," Marissa replied. "I got my undergraduate degree from Guilford in biology and spent a year trying to get into medical school."

"Why didn't you go?" Alan asked. "You don't have to answer that."

"No, it's okay," she said with a slight smile. "I actually got admitted to the program at Wake Forest, but I couldn't get a financial aid package that wasn't loaded up with student loans. So I put it on hold and haven't gone back."

"Would you?" Alan said. "Go back, I mean."

"I don't know," Marissa shrugged. "I've got a little bit in savings and I could probably get some additional financial aid since the government doesn't think I've made any money for the past five years."

Has it really been that long? she thought to herself. 

"What do your parents think you do?" Alan asked. "You don't have to answer that either."

"They think I'm a personal trainer," Marissa flashed him a sardonic smile. "Let me ask you something else . . . why do you want to open this restaurant?"

Alan's gaze became distant for just a second. He took a sip of his wine. "When Brianne and I met, we were in college at Davidson. She graduated a year ahead of me and we got engaged. She was a fabulous cook and when we moved to New York while I was at Columbia, she worked two jobs so I could go to school. After I graduated, we got married and moved back closer to home. Her degree was in business so she got her MBA and wanted to open her own restaurant. We kept putting it off because we each had loans to pay off and then she got pregnant. Her face would light up whenever we talked about the restaurant, though."

The far-off look in his eyes returned. "She knew what she wanted everything to look like. How the kitchen would be set up. She was so excited about it, that she got me to want it to happen, too." 

A flash of sadness came across Alan's face. "When Brianne died, my one regret was that she never got her dream to come true. She gave up so much for me—for us—that I want to make it work. I guess it's my way of holding on to her."

Marissa reached across the table and took Alan's hand in hers. They didn't speak for a long time.

They finished their meal and skipped dessert. They walked around the Venetian, holding hands while working off dinner.

"Let's take a gondola ride," Marissa said.

They headed back to the Grand Canal and found a gondolier bringing his boat in. There was no line. Another couple got out. He saw Alan and Marissa standing there.

"Care for a ride?" he asked in a fairly good faux-Italian accent.

Alan helped her in the boat. They sat down in the plush seats. Marissa sat close to her lover.

The gondolier was funny and engaging. He sang in Italian.

All the while, Marissa felt Alan's hands on her bare shoulders and arms. His touch gave her chills.

When she looked at him, all she could think was, How can I do this? To him. To me.

And then another part of her thought, How can I not?

The gondola slipped back into its berth and Alan helped her out. He gave the gondolier a tip and they headed back to their car.

He started to drive and soon Marissa found that they were off the strip, headed out of town. She didn't think Alan knew where he was going, but she didn't say anything. The top was down and the wind blew their hair around.

Soon, they were well west of town, on a newly paved road.

He pulled into what would soon be a new home development. It was stuck out in the middle of nowhere, but there were streets paved with curbs and sidewalks. They were on a small rise and had a wonderful view of the city down in the valley, but were about five or ten miles away from anything and there was not a soul to be seen.

Las Vegas is one of the fastest-growing cities in the country and in a year or so, this would probably be just another suburban neighbourhood. But right now, it was just a street and a bunch of empty lots. They were all alone.

Alan parked the car on one of the new streets facing west. The sun was just setting over the mountains.

The sky was streaked with reds and yellows. The few clouds in the sky were brilliant.

They sat in silence. Alan's hand was on her knee, Marissa's fingers wrapped around his.

It was starting to cool off, but the temperature was still comfortable.

"Can I ask you something?" Alan said tentatively.

"Sure."

"Do you have any fantasies?"

Marissa looked at him blankly for a second. 

"You know," he said quietly. "Sexual fantasies. Is there anything I can do for you? After all, this is our last night in Vegas."

She stifled a bitter chuckle. "No. I don't have any fantasies. Not anymore."

"Done it all, huh?"

"Not quite," she replied, uncomfortable. Marissa never talked to clients about her other jobs. It wasn't anyone's business. Of course, none of her other clients ever asked about the others. She always pretended that whoever she was with was the best she ever had or that she had never taken a cock up her ass before.

Alan sat there for a little while longer. Marissa could tell he wanted to ask her something else, but didn't know quite what to say.

She waited expectantly.

Finally, he looked her in the eyes. "What about other fantasies? Dreams? If you could do anything with your life, what would it be?"

That gave her pause to think. 

"I don't know," Marissa replied after a moment. "I'd have to work for myself or in a job that wasn't nine to five. I'd still like to go to med school. Or just be a mommy."

For the past several years, she lived day to day. One job to the next. Marissa owned a house that was now paid for. She had some money saved up. She could quit being a call girl and start a second career. But what? What was Alan getting at?

The truth of the matter is that she liked the money and she liked the predictability of her life. She was good in bed, pretty and knew how to conduct herself among the highbrow clientele she entertained. That made her very valuable to Laurie and enabled her to command a greater price than some of the other girls she knew. Still, it wasn't going to last forever, and she knew that.

"How did you get into . . . um, the business?" Alan blurted out. He glanced over at her apologetically. "You don't have to answer that."

Marissa smiled outwardly, but inside, it was like Alan had struck her. In her line of work, this was one question no one ever asked.

Part of it was that her reasons were none of his damn business. A bigger part was that she didn't really want to confront those reasons. She didn't want to acknowledge that she was selling herself for a few dollars. While she called herself a call girl or an escort or even a courtesan, the truth is that she was nothing more than a prostitute. A whore.

"Look . . . I was out of—" Alan said and reached for the ignition to start he car.

"No," she patted his hand reassuringly. "It's okay. No one has ever asked me that before."

After a deep breath, she started to speak. "After I graduated from college and was waiting to hear back from Wake, I took a job at a temp agency. The pay was lousy, but it made the rent and the bills."

Now it was her turn to have a distant look in her eyes. "I took an assignment at an insurance agency. After a couple of weeks, I got to know the other folks there and once night, the regional manager was going to a company function and needed a date. He offered me two hundred dollars to go to the dinner with him. I was already late with my car payment and that would cover it. So I went with him. He was young and good looking and after the dinner, he asked if I wanted to go back to his place for a drink."

She stopped to take another deep breath. "I didn't want to at first, so he gave me the two hundred. Then he showed me another five hundred dollars and said if I'd follow him home, he'd give that to me, too."

Marissa's mouth turned into a bitter smile. "Seven hundred dollars in a night. I didn't make that much in two weeks as a temp after taxes. I would be caught up on my rent and my car payments."

Alan didn't interrupt her. Instead he just took her hand, a gesture she appreciated. She had never told anyone about this before.

"So I followed him back to his house. We had some wine and then he stripped me down and fucked me." Marissa shuddered at the memory. "It was a hate fuck. He has some issues with women and did me hard and fast. No, he didn't hit me and he didn't rape me. I let him do it because I thought I needed the money. When it was over, I got dressed and left. But I had another five hundred dollars."

It took a minute for Marissa to compose herself. She stared off as sun's last rays streaked across the skies.

"The next Monday, I didn't go back to work there. I requested another assignment through the temp agency. I was ashamed of what I had done. But the money . . . it was so easy." Alan squeezed her hand. It felt good to tell someone about her experience. And it scared her, confronting the stark reality of the profession she had chosen. "He called me again the next month. It wasn't a date. He just wanted to fuck. At first I said no, but then he offered me more money."

Tears began to run down her cheeks. 

"And I took it," Marissa whispered, wiping her eyes. "He called me once a month for almost a year. He paid cash and the money was good. Then one day I got a message that he couldn't see me any more. Apparently I wasn't the only girl he was doing this with. As a regional manager he traveled a lot and his wife found out about one of his other 'girlfriends' and made him quit his job so he would be closer to her."

Alan continued to sit next to her in silence. Just as this week was cathartic for him, it was turning out to be the same for Marissa, too.

"At first I was relieved. I didn't feel so cheap. But then . . ." Marissa paused. "Then I started to miss the money. The extra eight hundred dollars every month was a hefty supplement to what I was making as a temp, and I had gotten use to having it. After a month of being behind on my bills again, I got a call from Laurie. She called herself an 'associate' of the guy from the insurance company." 




Impersonating Brianne Ch. 02



For the first time since she started speaking, Marissa turned and looked at Alan. She expected him to have an expression of revulsion. That was how she felt about herself. But he didn't. There was a sad look in his eyes. Empathic.

They say that joy shared is multiplied and that burdens shared are divided. Marissa thought that was a load of crap. Since graduating from college, she had learned to be self-sufficient. To never count on anyone other than herself. It made her quite the loner. She equated independence with isolation.

Alan's eyes showed her a different message. His eyes were tearing up along with hers. His touch reassured her. In an odd way, he strengthened her and sought to share her pain.

"Laurie's quite the saleswoman. She told me that if I went to work for her, she would only get me the best jobs and the best money." Marissa carefully watched Alan. She wanted to know how he felt about her being with other men. "And she was right. I quit my temp job and I've been with her for four years now. They money is great. The men she sends me are upper class and discreet."

But is it worth it? Marissa thought to herself. 

"Do you think about quitting?" Alan asked softly.

"Every day." Her voice was bitter, and not because of Alan.

"Why don't you?"

"Let me ask you something, Alan," Marissa said. "You've been teaching for how long? Eight years and you're up to what? Associate professor? How much do you make in a year?"

He thought for a moment. "From the university alone . . . about fifty-five thousand."

Marissa flashed him a sardonic smile. "I can make that in a month if I want. I have before."

"It's a good thing my parents left me all that money when they died, then," Alan flashed her the same smile, but there was something different about his gaze. Tenderness. 

It struck her just then that he was going to be paying her almost half of his annual salary for the past week. And that didn't count all the expense or trouble he had gone through just for her. Marissa had never felt guilty about taking a client's money before. Most of her patrons could afford it. But then again, Alan wasn't 'most patrons'. She didn't feel anything but loathing for most of the men she serviced.

She and Alan stared at each other for a moment. She thought he was about to say something, but instead he just looked into her eyes. Their conversation took all of her guards down. He knew more about her than she had told anyone.

In telling him about her past, Marissa was forced to confront things—hard, ugly things—about herself. Things she took no pride in. A past that was checkered with whoring and rationalising. She had sold everything about herself, including her soul. Just the thought of that made her uncomfortable.

Why am I letting him in? Marissa thought to herself. If I wasn't worthy of him before, I sure as hell am not now.

Alan reached over and brushed the tears out of her eyes.

"What are you thinking about?" he whispered.

Marissa took a deep breath. "How much I want you inside me right now."

He pulled her close and kissed her. It was a warm, sensual, loving kiss. Marissa melted into his arms.

It was all she could do not to rip his clothes off. If the steering wheel weren't in the way, she might have. She pulled back. "Get in the back seat."

Both of them practically vaulted over the bucket seats into the back of the convertible. Marissa pushed Alan down into the center of the reach bench seat. Alan tugged at his khakis and pushed them down to his ankles while Marissa struggled to get her panties off.

Alan's cock wasn't limp and it stiffened in her grasp. She stroked him a couple of times and then took it in her mouth.

She swirled her tongue around his head. He threw his head back and moaned. Alan reached for her breasts but she pushed his hands away.

Her head bobbed up and down on his cock until he was hard. Then she threw her leg across his lap and sat down.

In one swift motion, Alan was inside her. He put his hands on her hips and she slowly began to ride his cock.

"You fit perfectly," she whispered in his ear.

"I'll bet you say that to all the guys," Alan replied teasingly and bit her neck gently.

Marissa smiled as Alan's hands roamed her body. His hands cupped her breasts. Even through the thin fabric of her sundress, his touch was tender and loving.

"No, Alan, I've never told anyone that before," she said, sinking all the way down on his cock. Her pussy was slick and his cock was warm inside her.

"Marissa." When he spoke her name, there was a serious tone to his voice. She pulled back and looked him in the eyes. There was a combination of fear, desire and hope on his face. "Am I just another job for you?"

Her mouth fell open, unable to respond. She tried valiantly to form the words, but couldn't. There were a million things she wanted—no, needed—to say, but they just wouldn't come out. Her confused emotions were overloaded.

The tears came.

She tried to hold them back, but they would not be contained. Not any longer.

Alan pulled her to him. Marissa buried her face in his shoulder and started to sob. Five years of buried pain, sublimated humiliation, and everything else that went along with whoring came to the surface and poured out of her.

He held her as the sobs wracked her body. Alan's strong arms enveloped her in a warm embrace. She felt safe there, with this man who, a week ago, was barely more than a stranger.

Whispering comfortingly in her ear, Alan stroked her hair as she cried. She gasped for breath and wiped the tears and running mascara from her eyes.

All the while, Alan's steady touch was there for her.

Through the tears, Marissa looked down at him. There were tears in his own eyes. The face gazing back at her was a man in pain. A pain different from her own, but no less intense. It took her a minute to realise why he was crying too. He was hurting because she was hurting.

Empathy.

Having deadened herself to the emotion, Marissa didn't immediately recognise why Alan would hold her so tenderly as she broke down.

When it finally hit her, she was overcome with emotion again. This time, though, it wasn't anger or self-loathing, it was desire.

Marissa leaned over and kissed Alan hard. She started to grind her hips against him. Her heightened emotions also heightened the sensitivity of her touch.

Her pussy burned with lust. She squeezed Alan's cock and it sprang back to life, filling her up.

Their tongues dueled and she bit his lip.

Alan's hands went to her ass, which was bouncing up and down on his lap at a feverish pace.

Marissa pressed her clit against the base of Alan's cock and her toes started their familiar tingle.

She threw her head back and let out a throaty growl.

Taking him by the hair, Marissa pulled Alan forward and into her bosom. He nibbled greedily along the valley between her breasts. She was tempted to strip out of the sundress so he could pay proper attention to her tits, but settled for riding him. Long. Slow. Hard.

Her desire controlled her.

Her feelings consumed her.

Forgetting about everything that kept her life in order, Marissa surrendered herself to Alan. Her lover.

Underneath him, Alan began to thrust upwards. His hips met hers and they both let out satisfied moans.

"Oh, god," she whispered. She pushed him back against the seat and pressed her lips to his.

"I'm about to cum," Alan managed to gasp.

"Yes, Alan!" she cried out. "Cum inside me . . . cum inside me, please!"

"Oh, fuck." His hands tensed on her hips. He pushed into her one final time. "Oh! I'm cumming . . . I'm cumming . . . Marissa . . . I'm—"

Hearing her name from his lips sent her over the edge. Her pussy erupted with a warm flood. A torrent of emotion washed over her.

She felt Alan's cock pulsing inside her, filling her with his seed. She held on to him as her own orgasm overpowered her already drained body.

As the last vestiges of the sun dropped behind the mountains, Marissa let out a delicious, rapturous, glorious scream. 

She cried out and it seemed to echo back from the hills.

Finally, she slumped forward, Alan's limp cock still inside her. Her arms were around his neck.

She gasped for breath.

All the while, Alan held her. There was a comforting promise to his touch. A promise that he would never let her go. 

And all she had to do was let herself fall for him.

They held each other for a long time. It didn't matter that they were out in the middle of nowhere. It didn't matter that he was a widower missing his late wife. It didn't matter that she was a whore who had lost all of her self-respect.

The only thing each cared about was that they had someone in their arms who cared about them..

As this day ended, Marissa could only feel that at the next sunrise, the new day would bring something better.

***************************

Yes, there will be a part 3.



Impersonating Brianne Ch. 03



This is the third part of the "Impersonating Brianne" series. If you haven't read the other two chapters, I suggest you do so. I'd love to hear from you, so feel free to leave a comment or send me an email. Enjoy! 

*************************** 

After making love in the desert, Alan and Marissa returned to the hotel. They held each other all night, overcome by their passion.

With the sun's first rays shining in through the windows, Marissa found herself once again in Alan's arms. Unlike the day before, now she only wanted to stay in his embrace, but their time was almost up. They made love as the sun rose and then packed up their things for the mid-morning flight.

Alan settled up the bill and was surprised to find that many of his expenses had been comped to him by the Luxor. Marissa flashed him a knowing smile and he squeezed her hand appreciatively.

They took the rental car back to McCarron International Airport and waited for their flight. Alan fell asleep on the plane, but Marissa's heart raced. She fidgeted nervously as her lover slept. For the first time in what seemed like forever, her future was clouded by uncertainty.

They landed in Columbus and waited for their connecting flight. Alan went off looking for a restroom and something to eat while she watched their carry-on bags. As soon as he was out of sight, she checked her voice mail and found two messages.

Both were from Laurie.

When she heard the other girl's voice, the bottom fell out of Marissa's stomach. After her conversations with Alan, after feelings within her had been awakened, she dreaded returning these calls. But she knew she had to.

Dialing the number, she hoped that it would roll over and trigger a game of phone tag.

No such luck.

"Hey there, sweetie," Laurie said.

"Hi there, yourself," Marissa replied, looking around to make sure Alan wasn't nearby.

"How was your trip?" the other girl asked conversationally.

"It was fine. We're still in Columbus waiting for our flight home." Just a week ago, Marissa never would have used the term "we". Things can sure change quickly. "Vegas was nice. Not too hot."

"Listen," Laurie said, cutting quickly to the chase. "Do you remember Scott Milton? The stock broker? He's wanting you Wednesday and Thursday night. I told him you were out of town, but that I'd see if you would work this one on a quick turnaround."

"Um," Marissa stammered, trying to conjure an image in her mind. Scott Milton: tall, balding, likes to be spanked, good tipper. "I don't know. I might take a couple of days off."

"A vacation from your vacation, huh? Let me know either way." She could hear Laurie flipping through some papers. All business. "We're coming up on the travel season and I've got a couple of requests for you for next weekend. Give me a call when you get back in town."

"Sure thing," Marissa said. She closed the phone, sat back in the seat and let out a deep sigh. What am I going to do?

Alan returned a few minutes later. He had a pretzel and a Sprite for himself, a double-helping of chocolate fudge brownie ice cream from Ben & Jerry's in a waffle cone for her.

They sat together at the gate while waiting for their plane. Soon she found herself absently resting her head on Alan's shoulder as he thumbed through the gazillion photos on his laptop that he taken with his new camera. She smiled unconsciously every time she saw them together.

About thirty minutes later, their flight was called. They held hands while waiting with their boarding passes.

The flight on the puddlejumper was quick and when they landed, there was a pall over both of them. Neither wanted to talk. Marissa put her arm in Alan's, trying to savour the memory of his touch.

The war within her continued as her emotions struggled for control. Over the past day or two, her heart had been winning. She allowed herself to feel for another person again. She liked that Alan made her smile.

But old habits die hard.

The part of her that had ruled her life for the past five years was trying to re-assert itself.

Alan will break your heart.

What will you do? Get a job? You won't find one that pays as well.

Will you be Alan's private whore?

You've been in a bubble for the past week. Alan's going to realise that you're not his wife, and he'll put you out. 

He's on the rebound.

When he wakes up with a hooker in his bed, he'll come to his senses.

She was quiet as they retrieved their luggage. Alan led her to his car and then drove back to his house. So wrapped up in her thoughts, she didn't notice when he pulled into a grocery store on the way home.

Marissa looked at her watch. It was almost six. 

"What would you like for dinner?" Alan asked as he got out of the car. Marissa got out, too.

"Um, I'm not really hungry," she said. Her body was still on Pacific Time.

"Well, I can't have you wasting away on me, how about some fish?" Alan held out his hand and she took it.

"Alan, I really can't stay. I've—"

"What? Got a hot date or something?" he interrupted her with a nervous smile. "Our arrangement was for eight days. By my math, that's tomorrow at 9 am."

He's just trying to put off the inevitable, a voice within her said. 

"You're absolutely right," Marissa replied. She didn't know if she was rationalising or not, but technically, he was correct. Any excuse to spend more time with him. We'll talk tonight.

They went inside and Alan picked up a couple of items, some for dinner and some to fill out his pantry. After all, they had been out of town for a week.

He drove them back to his house and they unloaded their stuff. Alan sent her into the kitchen with the groceries while he unloaded their bags out of the trunk. In addition to their suitcases, Alan had his laptop case and the new camera bag. They had also boxed up the goodie basket he had bought for her and some of the flowers were set and pressed by the Luxor guest relations staff. Alan had Brianne's dress and his tuxedo shipped back via airmail, so they wouldn't arrive for a couple more days.

After setting the bag down inside the door, Marissa watched Alan moving around his kitchen and thought that he looked a little more animated than the day they had met. He was even humming.

Alan was finished putting all the groceries up, so he led her through the house back to his bedroom, each of them rolling their luggage. The house was large, with the master bedroom downstairs and three bedrooms upstairs. Although he and Brianne didn't need all the space, one day they had hoped to fill it with a family.

When she walked into the bedroom, the first thing she noticed was that the bed didn't match any of the other furniture. The dresser, armoire and nightstands were all colonial-style pieces, but in the middle of the room was a Japanese-style four-post bed that stuck out like a sore thumb.

Alan took her suitcase, set it in a corner and then went back out to the kitchen before she could ask him about it.

She followed him and sat down at the table while he prepared their meal. She poured them each a glass of red wine and watched him indulgently. He was so handsome.

First he hard-boiled two eggs and then set them aside to cool. Then, he took the salmon filets and wrapped them in aluminum foil. He placed small cubes of butter in with each, a couple of slices of lemon and some fresh dill. Once everything was in, he sealed the foil up.

In a zip-top bag, Alan doused some fresh asparagus with half a bottle of Italian dressing and then let it sit for a few minutes. He ducked outside long enough to light the grill and a couple of citronella torches.

All the while, he rambled aimlessly. Like Marissa, it looked like he was trying to avoid the hard discussion they needed to have.

Coming back inside, Alan opened a bag of spinach leaves. He sliced up some fresh mushrooms and put everything in a big bowl with a handful of bacon bits and some shredded cheddar cheese.

He led her out to the back deck just as the sun was setting. The yard was fairly large and had a high privacy fence. There was a wonderful view of a lake that was down over the hill. On one side of the deck was a good-sized hot tub and on the other a nice set of deck furniture with a big wooden table and matching padded chairs. There were neighbours on each side, but the houses were far enough apart that they weren't too cozy.

Alan put the asparagus and a handful of uncut mushrooms in a veggie basket on one side of the grill. After the veggies cooked for a few minutes, he set the salmon on the other side and let them sit for ten minutes on each side (at medium-high).

The evening was cool and a little humid, but it wasn't too bad. They decided to eat out on the deck.

He diced the eggs and put them in the salad, then served it with a delightful sweet and sour dressing. The salmon was cooked just right; the foil kept in most of the moisture and the center was just on the good side of rare. The asparagus was crispy and the marinade added a touch of flavour.

Marissa hadn't eaten such a nice home-cooked meal in some time and was amazed at how quick and efficient Alan was. It definitely qualified him as keeper material.

Their conversation still wasn't about anything important, although they were much more comfortable around each other than they were a week ago.

"Don't you have papers to grade or something?" Marissa asked.

"Not this past week," he replied with a grin. "Spring break. It's not just for the kids."

Marissa laughed and got up to refill their wine glasses. She wanted to have "the conversation" with Alan and needed some courage.

While she was up, Alan was futzing with something by the hot tub.

She went back out on the deck and found soft music playing. The sun had disappeared over the horizon and the only light on the back deck was from the flickering torches and what shone through from the kitchen.

Alan took a sip from his wine glass and then placed both glasses on the railing. He reached out and Marissa couldn't stop herself from stepping into his arms.

They started to dance slowly. Her heart raced.

"I had a wonderful time with you this week," Alan said in her ear.

"I did, too." Marissa was trying to figure out how to say what she needed to. The palms of her hands started to sweat. "Listen . . . Alan . . . We need to—"

"Shhhhh . . ." he stopped her. His voice was gentle and the look in his eyes hypnotic. "Not now. I know we need to talk . . . but . . ."

Marissa wanted to cry out or slap him or something. She was falling for him.

A part of her wanted to know if he was worth it. If his unspoken promises would be delivered. If he felt the same way. She needed to hear the words.

Yet, the other part of her knew that he would catch her. He had treated her too well and his actions spoke louder than any words that could come out of his mouth.

Marissa's life was about certainty. She desired clarity. Order. Alan brought confusion to her life. Disorder.

Feelings and emotions bubbled up from the depths of her soul. It was exciting and scary at the same time.

For the first time, Marissa was allowing herself to be vulnerable.

And that was the worst part.

Standing there with him—under the stars, held in his protective embrace—Marissa wanted for nothing else.

When he kissed her, passion consumed her and overrode everything else. She pushed all of her other concerns out of her mind. They didn't go quietly, but they went. Because when she was with Alan, she knew that he would never hurt her.

It can wait until tomorrow, Marissa rationalised some more to herself. We'll talk about it then.

She dropped all pretense of dancing with Alan. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body against him.

His hands went to the small of her back and he held her close.

Their kiss seemed to last forever. They lost themselves in the moment. She focused on his lips. They were soft and when they weren't on her own, they were nibbling on her ear or down the side of her neck.

When he bit her just behind the ear, she let out a startled gasp. She pushed her chest forward, pressing her breasts flat against him.

He responded by reaching down and cupping her backside in one hand and pulling her as close as they could be while still wearing clothes.

Marissa felt like she was held aloft in Alan's arms. It was a glorious feeling, yet scary at the same time.

She pushed all the negative thoughts out of her mind as one of Alan's hands reached up and cupped a breast. She cried out when he squeezed her like a ripe melon.

There was a bulge in his pants and it was pressed against her. Marissa wondered if Alan was going to take his time with her all night or if he was going to bend her over the table in the kitchen and fuck her. Just the thought of him doing either turned her on to no end.

As her hands went to his belt buckle, he pulled back.

Marissa let out a frustrated sigh.

"Not before dessert," he said, the hint of a taunt in his voice.

"I thought you were dessert," Marissa purred seductively.

"Hold that thought," Alan winked.

He gave her one more kiss then began gathering up their plates. She made sure the grill was off and blew out the torches when it became apparent that they weren't coming back outside.

There was a pile of dishes in the sink, but Alan was already into something else. He had a taco salad shell on a plate and was in the fridge getting some other things out. Marissa watched him assemble the ingredients on the counter: cinnamon ice cream, honey, chocolate syrup, mini-chocolate chips, shaved almonds and whipped cream in a can.

He scooped several generous helpings of ice cream into the shell, then drizzled the honey over the ice cream. After that, he covered it all with whipped cream, and then sprinkled the chocolate syrup and almond shavings over their dessert.

"What's this called?" Marissa asked. In her mind, she was thinking of different ways to use some of the ingredients.

"It's an ice cream taco," Alan replied. "We used to go to a little Tex-Mex restaurant that served them. After a while, we figured, 'Why pay someone else to make them when we can do it ourselves at home'."

"It looks fabulous," Marissa said. She reached down and patted Alan on the backside. "I hope you didn't use all of the whipped cream."

Alan blushed and they dug into their dessert.

A short time later, the dishes were still in the sink and Alan and Marissa were cuddled up on the couch watching TV. Both were full from dinner.

Her head was rested against his shoulder, his arms pulling her to him. Marissa ran her fingers absently down his forearm.

"Can I ask you something?" Alan said. "About last night."

"Sure," Marissa's heart almost stopped.

"When you said the guy . . . from the insurance company . . . gave you a hate fuck," Alan started nervously. "What did you mean? Do you feel like that with me?"

"Oh, dear god, no," she breathed. "No, Alan . . . I don't feel like that with you. He . . . He just wanted to get off with someone and I was there."

Marissa turned so she was facing Alan.

"When I'm with you . . . I . . ." her voice trailed off as she searched for the words. "When you fuck me . . . it's not because you're angry or having a power-trip. It's because you're dick is controlling your actions. Like on Thursday, after the last of your meetings . . ."

She started to get wet at the memory. "You came through the door of the room. There was this look in your eyes . . . it was feral. You bent me over the arm on the couch and took me."

"You didn't mind?" Alan asked.

"No, honey," she replied. "I loved it. I was so turned on by how much you wanted me. You couldn't wait to get inside me. It was like you weren't in control and you needed to have me."

Marissa could tell that Alan was getting excited.

"The best part, though," she said softly, "Was that when you were done pumping and fucking and cumming . . . you didn't just walk away. You didn't simply bang me. You lifted me up and kissed me. Then you sat us down on the couch and just held me. Even when you wanted nothing more than to fuck my brains out, it was still like we were making love. Only harder and faster."

They both took a deep breath. 

"I love being with you, Alan," Marissa said softly. "And it's not just about the sex. When you fuck me, it's because you need me. When you make love to me, it's because you . . . you want me. I feel so comfortable with you. So safe. I haven't felt that way in a long time. And, no, I don't say that to all the guys. When I'm with you, I don't feel like you're trying to impress the people around you or that you're wanting to exert your power over someone else. It's like you . . ."

Love me, were the words that were on her lips, but Marissa couldn't bring herself to say them.

"What if I told you that I wanted to strip you naked right here and fuck you senseless?" Alan said. That look was back in his eyes.

"Mmmm, that sounds like a good idea," Marissa purred. "But I've got a better one . . . Wait here for a minute. I'll call you when I'm ready."

She gave Alan a lingering kiss, raking her teeth across his lips. He was hungry for more, but was willing to play her game. The look she gave him promised great rewards for a little bit of patience.

Marissa went into the bedroom and dug around in her suitcase. She found some things she had picked up while she was out running errands earlier in the week. Then she went into the bathroom to brush her teeth and pull her hair back.

After that, Marissa shed her clothes and rifled through Alan's closet. She found a handful of candles and lit them. The room was bathed in the soft glow from the votives and the moonlight coming through the open windows. 

She flipped the lights out and took a deep breath.

Only a few minutes had passed and she was sure that her lover was dying to get into her.

"Oh, Alan," she called. "Come and get it."

He must have been right outside the door because the handle turned almost immediately. 

Alan only got two steps into the room and stopped suddenly.

Marissa stood in the middle of the room. She was wearing one of Alan's dress shirts. It was buttoned down, covering all of her private parts, but the top was open, showing just enough cleavage to be enticing. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbows.

Around each wrist, Marissa had tied a long silk scarf in a slipknot. She had a seductive look in her eyes.

"I told you something that wasn't true last night," she said softly. "When I told you I didn't have any fantasies, I was lying. I have one. And I want you to fulfill it."

"What can I do for you?" Alan managed to breathe.

"I want you to tie me down and make love to me, Alan." The words weren't easy for her to say because trust was something she didn't pass around freely. "I want to be helpless for you. I want to be at your mercy. I want you to make me scream."

Alan could only stand there and gape at her.

"I'll beg, Alan . . . if that's what you want."

Time seemed to freeze. Alan and Marissa stared at each other. Their eyes seethed with lust. They radiated desire. And something else. 

Something not tangible. Something neither of them was ready to acknowledge.

In three steps, Alan crossed the room and took Marissa in his arms. He lifted her up, his hands under her ass. They kissed and she felt the butterflies in her stomach shift into overdrive.

Marissa wrapped her arms and legs around Alan as he carried her to his bed.

As he started to set her down, Marissa reached beneath her and pushed the sheets away. Alan maneuvered her to the middle of the bed. His body pressed against hers.




Impersonating Brianne Ch. 03



He was still fully clothed but Marissa sought to change that.

Her lips went to his neck and she started to pull his shirt out of his khakis. She almost had it over his head when she felt Alan's hands on her wrists.

Firmly, but gently, Alan lifted Marissa's arms so they were over her head. He had her pinned down.

One hand cupped her supple breasts through the shirt. 

Two fingers pinched one of her nipples and she cried out.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked.

Alan seemed to understand how hard this was for her. It went against everything she knew.

Marissa was surrendering to Alan. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she was his for the taking. 

His earnestness. His honesty. The way he treated her. 

It was better anyone than she had ever known. It was better than she thought she deserved.

She felt unworthy of Alan.

The way he touched her wasn't simply about desire. It wasn't about lust. It was love. She had never known that feeling before. The guys she dated in college were in lust with her. She only wanted their attention.

The men she serviced were only after her because they had power and ego to spare and needed to get off with someone. She only craved their money.

Alan had started off as one of them. A client. But he triggered something in Marissa that turned her world upside down. He wasn't after a quick suck and fuck. She never felt used.

Even when he saw his dead wife in his mind's eye, Alan was making love to Marissa. 

Then, as their time together went on, Marissa realised that he didn't see her as his call girl. His whore. He thought of her as his friend. And his lover.

Soon, she realised that she felt the same way. She had stopped thinking of Alan as her client. As her john. Sometimes, when she lay in his arms, she found herself thinking of them. Of their future.

More than anything else, Marissa was giving up control. Not necessarily to Alan. To her emotions. The single-minded sublimation of her desires and her feelings was ending. If only she could say the words.

"Yes, Alan," she whispered. "It's what I want."

Some people think bondage is about domination. It's not.

True, it's about control. But Marissa didn't want Alan to force his will onto her. She wanted to give herself to him. She wanted to put herself in a position where she was not in control.

When someone allows another person to bind them, they are saying that they trust that person implicitly. That they are willing to give up control and place their safety and pleasure in the hands of their partner. Marissa had never felt that way with anyone. Until she met Alan.

His kindness disarmed her. 

His tenderness weakened her. 

His touch excited her.

The feelings he stirred within her made Marissa desire him in a way that was foreign to her. Yet, when he held her, he seemed so familiar. 

As he held her through the nights, she couldn't help but think that she had lived nothing but a lie for the past five years. That she denied herself basic human emotional comforts. All for money.

Marissa didn't just want to give herself to Alan. She needed to.

Alan gave her a tender kiss then pulled away. He took one of the scarves and tied it to a bed post. Marissa pulled against it, but it held.

"Would you like a pillow?" he asked, moving to the other side.

"Just one," Marissa replied and he propped her head up. He gave her another gentle kiss and then tied the other scarf to the opposite post.

She pulled against that one, too and it held.

Marissa lay in the middle of the big bed. Alan was next to her, lying on his side.

He put his hand under her chin and turned her towards him. His lips met hers. They were soft and warm.

Marissa looked into Alan's eyes. In the soft glow of the candles, she saw her lover staring back at her. The flickering light showed his desire. And something more. 

Alan leaned in and kissed her again. One of his hands found its way into the opening of the shirt Marissa was wearing.

He gently squeezed her breast and she let out a moan. 

Their tongues continued to duel.

His mouth pushed her head to one side and he kissed his way over to her ear. A shiver ran down her spine when he bit her neck. His teeth followed the nerve that ran down to her shoulder.

The hand on her breast withdrew long enough to un-do one more button. He pushed the shirt to the sides so both breasts were out, their nipples sticking straight up.

She stifled a scream when she felt the warmth of his mouth on her chest. Then he squeezed the other breast and she cried out.

Marissa arched her back and tried to push the entire tit into Alan's mouth.

Then he kissed his way over to the other one. She tried to reach for Alan, but her bonds wouldn't give.

He alternated his mouth on her tits, paying careful attention to both. When he wasn't suckling on one of her breasts, he was kneading it firmly, but tenderly.

What Marissa enjoyed more than the sensation of Alan playing with her chest was his loving touch. He wasn't in a hurry. 

When his fingertips brushed her skin, it made her pussy tingle.

Marissa turned her head and tried to nibble on Alan's ear, but he pulled away. He was denying her the things she wanted. At the same time, she relished not being in control. It fueled her desire for Alan.

His body was pressed against hers. She could feel his erection through his pants. Marissa knew he wanted to be closer to her. But she also knew he would make her wait.

After he had kissed and sucked on every square inch of her breasts, Alan pulled back. He lay on top of her and his tongue was back in her eager mouth.

Then he rolled off the bed and stood at her feet. She lay there, her arms spread. Her body was covered only by his shirt. Her legs were together and she turned her hips so he couldn't see her pussy, not out of modesty, but to tease him just a little.

They broke eye contact only when he pulled his shirt over his head. Then he unbuckled his belt. His pants and boxers fell to the floor.

Soon Alan was naked. His cock was erect. He took it in his hands and stroked it a couple of times, contemplating what he was going to do next.

A wicked grin formed on his face.

Alan climbed on to the bed and crawled slowly up her body, like a predator stalking his prey.

Marissa shivered with anticipation.

His hands went once again to her breasts and he kissed her hard. His tongue forced its way into her mouth.

He squeezed her breasts with both hands.

For a moment, she forgot she was tied down. She went to put her arms around Alan, but the ties held. She let out an exasperated sigh when he pulled back.

Alan was straddling her hips. His balls rested over the mound of her pussy, separated only by the flimsy dress shirt. His cock lay across her belly.

His mouth went to her clavicle and she cried out. He kissed his way down into the valley between her breasts. Then his mouth was once again on her nipples. After paying attention to both, he blew on them. The cold air on the wet skin made them even harder and Marissa gasped with pleasure.

Alan's hands went to the next button and has he opened the shirt further, he kissed his way down her belly. Each touch by his lips sent chills through her body.

His fingertips grazed her skin. As he pushed the shirt aside, Marissa felt like he was moving torturously slow. Of course, that only heightened her excitement. 

The way he worked his way down her body was like he was opening a present, which was rather apropos. Marissa was giving herself to Alan, and he was savouring every lingering touch.

Finally, Alan's mouth was at her belly button. He was sitting back on his heels, his bare ass just above her ankles. There was one button left. He opened it and pushed the shirt to the side.

Marissa was totally exposed for him. 

Although her legs were together, she was splayed out on the bed for her lover.

She unconsciously pulled against the bonds, but they didn't give. 

Forcing herself to look up at Alan, she saw him devouring her with his eyes. That one look told her everything.

How much he desired her. How much he loved her.

Ever so slowly, Alan's mouth went back to her belly, kissing her belly button and then down toward the mound of her pussy. 

Her legs parted at his touch.

His teeth raked the insides of her thighs and she stifled a gasp. Marissa could only arch her back.

She could feel his breath on her pussy. She knew she was soaked.

Alan's tongue was warm and he licked the sensitive spot just on the inside of her leg. Then he lapped around her outer labia.

A shiver ran the length of her body.

Marissa's body shuddered when he blew on her, the cold blast of air causing her body to break out in goosebumps. 

"Oh, god, Alan," she managed to gasp through her clenched teeth.

He was driving her crazy.

She felt his hands under her ass and she lifted her hips in anticipation.

When Alan pressed his tongue against her clit, she tried to reach down and pull his head into her, but the ties around her wrist still would not give.

Marissa moaned with a combination of pleasure and frustration. Pleasure at what Alan was doing with his mouth. Frustration because she wanted him to stop teasing her!

Like the touch of his hands, Alan's mouth wasn't hurried. He flicked her clit a couple of times with the tip of his tongue and then pressed it flat against it.

He was building up slowly. His hands squeezed the cheeks of her ass.

His tongue entered her pussy and then withdrew and went back to playing with her clit, which was swollen for him.

Marissa's breathing became short when his teeth raked her pussy. He sucked on her clit and all the blood seemed to drain out of her head.

Alan's tongue moved faster. 

Once again, Marissa tried to sit up, but couldn't.

She pushed her hips forward, as if she could force her pussy into Alan's hungry mouth.

His hands held her steady, though. His fingers dug into her ass.

Marissa began to groan uncontrollably.

Faster.

Wrapping her legs around the back of his head, Marissa began to thrash to and fro on the bed. At least as much as she could while her arms were still bound.

She wanted to use her arms, her legs, anything to pull Alan's mouth down on her pussy. To give her the relief she craved.

But Alan had other ideas.

His mouth left her pussy and she groaned with disappointment.

Then he entered her with a finger. Then two.

Alan's tongue flicked across her clit. 

Harder and faster. 

Tongue and fingers.

Alternating between the inside and the outside of her, Alan licked and sucked and rubbed Marissa until she was raw.

Her body broke out into a sweat.

Marissa's fingers wanted to grasp something and she had to settle for the silk ties.

Her knuckles were white.

Finally, Alan's mouth covered her pussy and he worked towards a crescendo.

Throwing her head back into the pillow, Marissa's hair fell across her face. She didn't care.

Her breathing was ragged. She looked down and saw Alan's eyes looking back up at her.

The same intensity was there.

His mouth was over the mound of her pussy. She could feel his tongue all over her and his fingers inside her.

Once again, she pulled against the scarves, but to no avail.

With a piercing scream, Marissa's vision blurred. Every nerve ending in her body began to tingle.

When the orgasm hit her, she tried to sit up, but the ties held. She fell back into the bed.

Marissa arched her back as her lover assaulted her pussy with his mouth.

Alan lapped up her juices.

Even as the room started to spin, all Marissa could do was hang on as her orgasm overpowered her.

"Oh!" she cried out. "I'm cumming . . . oh, fuck . . . oh, Alan!"

Tears rolled down her cheeks. 

They weren't just because of the intensity of her orgasm.

They were tears of joy. And of desire. 

Again and again, waves of pleasure ran from her fingertips to her toes.

Marissa gasped for breath.

Her heartbeat pounded in her chest. She started to feel faint.

With her heels locked behind Alan's back, Marissa's entire body tensed one final time and she let loose with an ear-splitting scream.

Then the room went black.

In her mind, she was falling. Falling fast. Into darkness. She didn't know which way was up. Marissa was confused.

She felt something soft against her skin. It was warm and comforting. It enveloped her. It slowed her fall until she was steady.

Slowly, her vision returned. Alan was above her, his face lit only by the flickering candles.

He had a worried smile on his face. His body was pressed against hers.

One hand was on her face, brushing the hair out of the way.

Alan's kiss was gentle. She was still bound. 

Marissa could feel her breasts against Alan's chest. His cock was poking into her belly.

The concerned look on Alan's face passed away once she regained consciousness and he kissed her again. His lips lingered on her.

They tasted of nectar. Her nectar.

She wanted to embrace him, but she couldn't.

Alan sat back on his heels. His erect cock was pointing right at her.

Her eyes never left his body.

With his cock in his hand, Alan began to rub the head against her still-sensitive clit.

Her orgasm had subsided, not passed. She began to moan.

"Do you like that?" Alan asked.

"Yesssss," Marissa slurred. "That feels so good."

"How good?"

"So fucking good."

Alan pushed his hips forward and the head entered her.

"Give it to me," she said.

"Give what to you?"

"Give me your cock!"

"How do you ask?" Alan's mouth went to one of her breasts. Marissa arched her back.

Still, only the bulbous head of his cock was inside her pussy.

Her orgasm left her extra tight.

"Pleeeeeease . . ."

"Please what?"

"Please give me your cock, Alan," Marissa whimpered. "Give it all to me."

"What do you want me to do?"

He began to move his hips faster, but wouldn't give her any more than just the tip.

"I want you to fuck me."

"You want what?"

"Fuck me!" Marissa couldn't take it any more. "Fuck my pussy . . . Please!"

She looked up at Alan and saw a satisfied grin on his face. He had her begging.

It was everything she wanted.

Alan was holding her close. He was taunting her with short thrusts. Not out of meanness. Not out of spite. Out of love.

Marissa was subject to his mercies. She was not in control. She had given it to Alan and he was proving to her that he would never abuse that control. 

Sure, he might tease her. Sure, he might make her wait or make her beg. But he had always been worthy of her trust. Marissa just needed to be persuaded to open herself up to him.

Alan kissed her again and then pulled back. He cupped a breast in one of his hands.

There was a thoughtful look on his face.

"What are you thinking?" Marissa asked. She thrust her hips up, trying to take more of his cock inside her.

Alan paused, then his mouth split into a wide smile. "I'm trying to decide if I want to make love to you nice and slow . . . or if I want to fuck you hard and fast."

Marissa tried to put her arms around him but, of course, she couldn't. "We've got all night, Alan. Why don't you do both?"

He smiled back at her. "That's the best idea I've heard in a long time."

Slowly, he began working his hips back and forth. With every stroke, he gave her a little more. Partly to torture her. Partly to let her pussy loosen up to accommodate him.

"Yesssss," Marissa moaned. Her entire body tingled.

The fire Alan had ignited in her earlier began to build back up steadily.

They kissed once again. He wasn't going fast, but instead built a steady rhythm.

Finally, he hit bottom.

They both let out contented sighs.

Alan held it all the way inside her for several long seconds. Marissa felt so full. Neither wanted to move.

Then he pulled back until he was almost out of her. And he thrust it back in, not fast, but hard.

They both gasped.

Alan altered his rhythm, giving her several steady, shallow strokes, followed by two hard and deep. Then four short strokes. Then one more all the way in.

Marissa's hips began to meet his thrusts.

Her clit ground against the top of his cock.

He was just the right length and shape for her pussy. He brushed all the right spots in just the right ways.

Alan's thrusts came harder. Faster.

His mouth went to her neck. Marissa tried to kiss him, but he had other ideas.

Using his teeth, Alan nibbled up to the underside of her jaw. A shiver ran straight down her spine to her pussy.

Her legs were spread wide and Marissa arched her back, trying to take as much of Alan's cock inside her as she could. 

The couple moved in unison, each bucking against the other in a familiar dance.

Once again, Marissa grasped on to the scarves until her knuckles turned white.

She shivers ran from her head to her toes. The tingling in her pussy intensified.

Alan's rhythm became steady as he pumped in and out of her. 

Her pussy was slick with juices and made a satisfying sucking sound with each thrust.

"Oh, Alan," she whispered, unable to contain her second orgasm. His hips were pounding against hers.

There was an explosion of pleasure that enveloped them both. She vaguely felt a burning in her wrists as she pulled in vain against her bonds, but it was nothing compared to the ecstasy of having Alan inside her.

He let out a feral grunt and his cock began to flare and pulse within her.

She felt so attuned to their coupling that she imagined she could feel his cum squirting into her life-giving womb.

With one final thrust, Alan held his cock inside of her. He still gasped for breath as his cock gave a couple more dry shots from his empty balls.

The hand on her breast hadn't moved.

Alan's body was limp for just a second and then he jerked and lifted himself up. Marissa took a deep breath and wrapped her legs around Alan's ass so his cock wouldn't leave her.

With his free hand, Alan released the slipknots around Marissa's wrists. Her arms and shoulders were numb, but she still threw them around Alan, pulling him close to her.

They held each other for a long time.

Marissa never wanted to let Alan go.

He kissed her gently and then pulled away.

She let out a disappointed sigh when his cock slipped out of her, but he quickly rolled her over on her side and spooned up behind her.

His cock wasn't erect, but it wasn't flaccid, either, and he slipped it back into her easily. 

Marissa took Alan's strong arms and pulled them close around her. She wiggled her ass against him.

His mouth gently bit her shoulder through the shirt and he nuzzled up against the back of her neck.

They seemed to fit together perfectly.

Neither said a word.

"Thank you," Alan whispered in her ear.

"For what?" Marissa asked, a dreamy smile on her lips.

"For trusting me enough to tie you down," he replied. "I know you don't . . . you probably don't let all the guys do that to you."

Marissa turned her head and kissed Alan on the cheek. "You're the first person who has ever tied me down."

"Well, thank you. I'm glad I bought this bed then," Alan said with a slight laugh. "My old bed doesn't have posts."

"What old bed?"

"Brianne and my old bed," she could tell Alan winced at the mention of his wife. "It's in the guest bedroom upstairs. She liked waterbeds so that's what we had when we were married. I hated the damn thing. I always felt like I was floating away. . . . So a couple of weeks after she died, I went out and bought a new bed with a firmer mattress."

Marissa clutched Alan's arms. 

This wasn't their bed, raced through her mind. "So you've never had anyone in this bed?"

"No, you're the first," he said thoughtfully.

"Well thank you for letting me be the one to break it in with you." Her lips were eager to find his. She reached around behind him and patted him not-so-playfully on the backside.




Impersonating Brianne Ch. 03



"I can think of a few more ways to finish breaking it in," Alan said. If she could have seen his face, Marissa was sure he had a wicked glint in his eyes.

Marissa rolled over on to her stomach. She felt Alan twitch inside her and knew he was getting his second wind.

It turned out Alan had a third wind in him, too.

*************************** 

Rolling over lazily, Marissa hunted around for Alan. He wasn't there. She sat up. The scarves were still tied to the bedposts. Alan's shirt, which she had been wearing the night before, was on the floor, having been thrown across the room some time in the middle of the night.

The bedsheets were rumpled. The comforter was on the floor. The sun was up but she still felt like it should have just been daybreak. Her body hadn't caught up from the jetlag.

Marissa was sore, especially her shoulders, but it was a good sore.

She stretched out and called Alan's name. No response.

Trying not to move her arms too much, she stumbled out of bed and went into the bathroom. Her hair was a glorious mess. She was even sporting a couple of fresh hickeys on her neck and collarbones.

The memory of the previous night's sex made her smile and blush at the same time. 

I guess I won't be working for the rest of the week, she thought with a chuckle. Or at least until these marks go away.

Marissa brushed her teeth and then went back into the bedroom. She picked up Alan's shirt off the floor and put it on to ward away the morning chill.

Her bare feet on the hardwood floor, she padded out to the kitchen. Alan was no where to be found.

The pesky voice returned from her subconscious. Her heart rate doubled. She started to feel panicky.

She checked the garage and Alan's car was gone.

He can't have just left me, she thought. This is his house. It's not like he's going to stiff me completely.

Marissa went back to the bedroom and began to dress. 

I told you so, the one voice said. He got up and left. You made yourself vulnerable to him and now he's just going to treat you like the whore you are.

No, he's not! the other voice said, the voice she had spent the last five years ignoring. He'll be back. There's a good explanation.

Then why didn't he leave a note? Why isn't he cooking you breakfast? Why didn't he wake up with you? He used you and fucked you.

It was all she could do not to burst into tears. Marissa put Alan's shirt in the hamper in his bathroom and found a pair of shorts and a blouse in her suitcase. She looked around to make sure she wasn't forgetting anything and then wheeled her things out to the kitchen.

Hunting through the fridge and his pantry, Marissa made herself a small breakfast and sat at the table to await Alan's return.

All the while, all her insecurities re-surfaced. Old habits die hard.

She couldn't believe that Alan would just leave her like that. Didn't he want her? He said he did. Was he lying? Or was he just now coming to his senses? After all, they had a romantic week away, and now that they were back in their regular worlds, maybe things weren't so Pollyannaish after all.

Most of her breakfast remained uneaten when Marissa heard the garage door open and Alan's car pulled in. She looked over at the stove. It was close to ten o'clock. Contractually, their relationship would end once he paid her.

What am I going to do?

The door opened quietly and Alan entered the kitchen. He saw Marissa's suitcase by the door and then his eyes fixed on her, sitting at the table where they had their first conversation.

He had two envelopes in his hands.

The expression on her face must not have been very good because he immediately started looking worried himself.

"Hi," he said meekly. "I'm sorry for leaving so early . . . I, uh, didn't think they would take so long at the bank."

"That's okay," Marissa replied, more curtly than she should have.

Alan sat down at the table. He placed the thick envelopes on the table. Both of them knew what those envelopes represented.

Neither wanted to be the first one to talk.

Finally, Alan cleared his throat. "I . . . um . . . had a great time this week, Marissa."

"I did, too," she said with a sigh. She needed a sign from him. Something to tell her that she hadn't been played.

"I—" he started. There was a long pause. "I don't suppose we could see each other again? Go out to dinner or for drinks?"

"I don't date clients," Marissa replied reflexively, and almost immediately she wished she had kept her mouth shut.

Alan fell silent. He looked away and out the window.

She searched his face for hints. There was pain there, not the same as he felt for his wife. But something new. It probably matched her own.

Her emotions struggled for control. Her once-contained feelings told her to say one thing. The business-like whore told her to say something different.

Alan appeared to be at a similar loss for words.

What are you thinking? she wanted to ask him, but couldn't.

As the two parts of her warred over what she should say, they quickly came to a consensus. Shit or get off the pot. Make a decision, Marissa. Head or heart. You can't follow us both.

"Did we have something last week, Alan?" she said finally. Her voice was so low, she wasn't sure she said it out loud. "Something real?"

"Yes," he whispered. His response was so immediate, she knew it could only be the truth.

What am I going to do?

Order or disorder. Money or love. 

What am I going to do?

Marissa stood up, her chair sliding back across the floor. Alan looked up at her in alarm.

"I don't want your money, Alan," she said. Her decision was made. Her stomach churned. 

Head or heart. Those were her choices. She could walk away from Alan. He was, after all, a paying client. She had buried her feelings before, she could do so again.

But at what cost? Happiness? A family? Love?

And for what? A few dollars and another decade in a profession she loathed? Was it worth it?

Not any more.

Alan had a disbelieving look on his face. His jaw dropped. 

"I need to know that there was something between us," Marissa said, fighting to keep her voice steady. "We spent a whole week away. People aren't themselves on trips and vacations."

She took a deep breath. Her eyes began to water up. "I had a wonderful time with you. You truly treated me like a princess. And I appreciate that. But life isn't all passion and romance. We have lives here. You have the university. I have a job. We can't just pretend like everything is normal. At least I can't. My life isn't normal."

Marissa paused long enough to take a deep breath and wipe the tears out of her eyes. "You made me feel . . . you made me feel things I thought I had forgotten. You are the kindest man I have ever met. You never treated me like a whore, but that's what I am."

Her voice had risen almost to the point where it was about to break. "Look at me, Alan! Men pay me to have sex with them. I fuck a hundred different guys a year. How can you want that?"

She choked back sobs. Alan was trying not to cry himself.

"I don't care how many men you've had before me." Alan said, his voice gravelly. "I don't care how we met. I thought I wanted one thing from you, but I didn't. I was wrong. I don't want someone to be Brianne. I don't want a mistress and I don't want a whore. I want you."

She stood there for a long moment, trying her best to hold it together.

"Are you sure, Alan?" she whispered. "You don't know how much baggage I come with."

"Yes, I'm sure," he replied softly.

Marissa took a deep breath, then reached into her purse. She pulled out an envelope and thumbed through a stack of hundred dollar bills, her winnings from the casino.

She placed a large pile of money on the table. "There's nine thousand dollars there. That's the five you gave me at the beginning of the week, the thousand you gave me on the first day and three thousand for the Lasik. We're even."

A couple of deep breaths later, Marissa put the remaining cash back in her purse. Alan could only stare at her, dumbfounded.

"If I take your money, I'll always be your whore," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I want you, too, Alan. I want us. I want it more than anything in the world. I'm going home now. You've got my number. Call me. We're going to make a date and we're going to go out and we're going to do this right."

Make me feel like I'm worth it, she wanted to say.

"What about Laurie?" Alan managed to say once he found his voice. "At least take enough to pay her cut."

Marissa shook her head, "No, Alan. I have enough saved up to cover that."

She turned and walked towards the door that opened into the garage. Her gait was quick and deliberate. She couldn't face Alan like this. She just wanted to make it into her car and down the street before she fell apart. Somewhere that Alan couldn't see her. One hand was on the handle of her suitcase, the other reaching for the door.

"Marissa," Alan called.

Her heart skipped a beat. Her stomach flipped.

This is what I want, she thought, Isn't it?

She didn't turn around, but she paused, waiting for him. Hoping for the words she needed to hear.

"What if we just skip ahead to the part where I say, 'I love you'?"

Marissa couldn't see him, but she heard Alan's footsteps as he crossed the kitchen.

He stopped right behind her.

"I've had two years to myself. Wallowing in self-pity and anger," he said softly. "Brianne was everything I could ever want in a partner and a spouse. We were so happy together. We had dreams and hopes and love. And now she's gone. I lost one soulmate. I don't want to lose another one."

The hand closest to the door knob pulled back. The tears came again. This time, Marissa could not stop them.

"Don't walk out that door, Marissa." Alan's voice was almost pleading. "Not like this. I guess it would be patronising for me to say that I'll support you but . . . but . . . That call you took at the airport. . . . It was about another job, wasn't it?"

Marissa's heart nearly jumped out of her chest.

"I can't stand the thought of you being with anyone else—"

I can't either.

"—And I can't stand the thought of you not being the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning."

I can't either.

When Alan's hand touched her shoulder, she spun around and tried to look her lover in the eyes. She couldn't see anything her vision was so blurry. Marissa fell into his arms. They kissed hungrily. The tears flowed freely from both of them.

"Tell me you love me, too," he whispered, and for the first time since she met Alan, the voices within her were not struggling for control.

Marissa felt as if a weight were being lifted from her shoulders, and that her soul was suddenly freed from the cage she had built for herself over the past five years. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Marissa had finally found herself. All of her barriers were down.

Waves of suppressed emotion washed over her and she found she liked the feeling. She knew that the man holding her would never hurt her. He would never use her. He would love her as she deserved. As she needed. And she would love him back, without reservation.

"I love you, Alan," she said as her voice broke. The words came so easily now. "I love you. . . IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou . . ."

Where would they go from here? How could she walk away from Laurie? What was she going to do with the rest of her life? Sure, Marissa had some money saved up, but how long would it last? What skills did she have? She needed something other than just being Alan's mistress.

Marissa pushed those nagging questions out of her mind. Alan's embrace promised safety.

And in this moment, that was all that mattered. 

*************************** 

"Hamada-san," Marissa called. "What can we do for you?"

Surveying the kitchen with an aura of imperturbable command, the short Japanese man was the proverbial eye at the center of the storm. He never used more words than he had to, was an excellent chef and had a wry sense of humour about him. Amidst all the mayhem, he was right in his element. 

He gave her a slight smile that only barely showed his teeth. He was obviously enjoying himself. He had a slight accent, but spoke very clearly. "Everything is under control."

A little over two years had passed since Alan and Marissa returned from Las Vegas.

Somehow, they made it work.

When they compared notes, they were surprised to find out how much they were worth together. Alan still had some of his inheritance left from his parents's death and had made some smart investments with his book sales and university salary. Marissa had a good chunk of change saved up for the day when she would no longer be a call girl. Most of her money was in several investment accounts that were to have been her retirement. Plus, Alan had a fair amount of equity in his house, and Marissa's was paid off.

That didn't count the thirty-two thousand dollars Marissa had refused to accept from Alan for their first week together (twenty thousand he was paying her for the week, a twenty percent tip, the one thousand he had given her when they first met, the three thousand for the Lasik, and four thousand for the money Marissa saved him on the TGR kitchen equipment deal) and the sixty-five thousand dollars worth of kitchen equipment that was sitting in a warehouse waiting to be delivered.

Alan continued to teach at the university and lacking any other direction, Marissa threw herself into the restaurant. She had a good head for business, but knew nothing about cooking. What she did know was the art of making a deal. She quickly learned how to negotiate with contractors, navigate the health department's bureaucracy, talk to the IRS and all about managing employees in a small business.

First of all, Alan and Marissa incorporated themselves as BAM Food Services, Inc. (Brianne, Alan and Marissa) and then liquidated some of their investment accounts, pouring them into the restaurant. They calculated their start-up costs and took out a couple of low-interest small business loans. Yes, they could have paid cash, but they wanted to have some savings left in case there was an emergency.

They couldn't find a building they liked, so they built a new one, and made it look exactly how they—and Brianne—wanted.

Then they went looking for an executive chef. That's how they landed Hamada Takateru. He was the best Italian chef they could find in the area. Sure it was strange having a Japanese man running the kitchen at an Italian restaurant, but not quite as strange as one of the co-owners being an ex-hooker who looked just like the other co-owner's first wife. They placed their entire kitchen in Hamada-san's capable hands and then built their business around the cuisine.

It took almost two and a half years to get everything finished, from a cold start to opening night.

And then, of course, there was the wedding Alan and Marissa somehow found time to fit in.

There were licenses to apply for, construction to oversee, permits to obtain. Some days were good. Some days were complete cluster-fucks. Yet, somehow, the good days outnumbered the bad and the restaurant opened on a crisp autumn day, using the name Brianne had picked out, "A Taste of Italy."

Marissa didn't want anything to do with the restaurant side of the operation. She was the (self-trained) accountant and handled all the numbers. Alan told her what he wanted or needed. She told him how much he could spend.

They hired the kitchen and service staff a couple of months ago, and the week before they had a dry run for friends and family. It was a disaster. Orders were mixed up. Food was cold. They ran out of meatballs. The soda fountains wouldn't mix the Diet Pepsi syrup with the water and CO2. One of the gas ovens wouldn't light. Mr. Murphy paid one hell of a visit.

Through it all, Alan and Marissa remained calm and everything got fixed (they hoped).

This was the night of their grand opening. They received a fair amount of buzz in the local press and there was a good crowd in addition to the people who had received special invitations.

Alan was running around nervously, checking on all the little things. Of course, Hamada-san had the kitchen working at 110% capacity, the service manager Anastasia had things under control out front and John-Marc had the bar staff working under his careful supervision.

Marissa made sure to say hi to some of their high-profile clients, like the city councilmen at table 53 and the food critic from the local paper who was just getting seated. She roamed the restaurant, taking pictures of the staff and some of the patrons, especially Alan's friends from the university. Even Laurie came by to see how her former working girl was doing.

After checking in with some of the staff, Marissa retreated back into the office. The opening was out of her hands now. She and Alan had poured their hearts and souls—not to mention a whole lot of money—into this venture over the past two and a half years. They had hired good people. They bought the best equipment. They marketed their business the right way. They had a good menu, fresh ingredients, a healthy wine list and reasonable prices.

Now they just needed people to come.

She took off her jacket and hung it over the back of the chair. She picked up her phone and sent Alan a text message. Then she moved a couple of things around the desk, walked around to the other side and waited.

A few minutes later, he burst through the door. There was a crease in his brow that came only when he was under intense stress. She had an amused smile on her face.

"You worry too much," she chided him gently. "Lock the door."

"What are you doing?" Alan asked abruptly. Since they had met, Alan had only grown more handsome. Their relationship blossomed, strengthened by their mutual commitment and all the time they spent together. "Have you seen—"

Marissa turned, bent over the desk and spread her legs. Her ass stuck out for Alan. She flipped up her skirt to show him that she wasn't wearing any panties.

"Shut up and fuck me."

"We don't have time—"

"We do if you hurry." Marissa looked over her shoulder with an alluring smile.

Alan was torn. He wanted to get back to the restaurant. At the same time, he couldn't pass up his wife. He had never passed up his wife. And he didn't intend on starting now.

With two steps he was behind her. She heard him fumbling with his belt buckle and soon his pants fell to the floor.

One hand was on her ass. She felt the head of Alan's cock rubbing against the slit of her pussy, which was already wet for him. 

"What are you waiting for, Alan?" Marissa said with a huff. "Fuck me. Fuck my pussy. We haven't christened the restaurant yet."

That was all he needed.

With one hard and fast push, his cock was buried deep inside her. 

Marissa braced herself against the sturdy solid-oak desk. This was one of the reasons she had bought it. And with the pounding Alan gave her, it was worth every penny.

He didn't last long, but she didn't want him to. This was what they called a "fuck and run". They may have been married for close to two years, but the passion never faded.

She still loved it when Alan took her. Sometimes she did it to him, too, but more often than not, it was Alan who would spontaneously strip her down, mount her and get off. Sometimes she would orgasm. Most of the time, she didn't, and that was okay. She loved walking around with Alan's cum inside her. It made her feel as if he was always with her.




Impersonating Brianne Ch. 03



Alan's fingers dug into her ass.

"Fuck my pussy, fuck me hard," she chanted, fairly sure that no one outside the door would hear them over the commotion of the restaurant's opening night. She really wanted to scream for Alan, but there is a time and a place for everything and that would come later.

He gave her one final thrust and then held it. Her womb filled with warmth and she knew Alan was cumming inside her. 

With a sigh, Alan pulled back and his cock popped out of her. She turned and was on her knees instantly. Taking his deflating member in her mouth, she licked it clean.

Then she pulled his pants up and helped him tuck in his shirt.

She smoothed out the creases in her blouse and skirt, then stepped into Alan's waiting arms.

"You're a hell of a business manager," Alan said with a playful grin. "Don't tell my wife I'm sleeping with you."

"You're a hell of a business partner," Marissa smiled back at him. "Don't tell my husband that I'm addicted to your cock."

Alan pulled her close and they held each other for a long moment. They had been busy for the past couple of week leading up to the opening and hadn't had as much time together as they would have liked.

"I love you, Mrs. Gibson," he whispered in her ear.

"I love you, too, Mr. Gibson," she replied, trying to steal one more kiss. Then she patted him on the backside and sent him back out into the restaurant.

All too soon (or for the guy who had to hand-make more ravioli halfway through the shift, not soon enough), the night was over. It was almost midnight. The last patrons had been served, the bills paid. There had been a few tense moments, but for the most part, it had gone well. Better that Mr. Murphy had wreaked havoc upon them on friends and family night than at the grand opening.

Marissa walked around the restaurant as the last of the staff cleaned up their stations.

A hostess was vacuuming the lobby. Hamada-san and two cooks were making sure the kitchen was spotless for the morning prep shift. Anastasia and John-Marc were strategising ways to streamline the service while a handful of servers were setting up tables for the next day.

Alan was sitting in a chair, sipping on a glass of wine. He had the "thousand-yard stare". He had never worked in a restaurant before. Where he saw chaos, the professional staff saw a carefully choreographed dance. It may have been just a step above absolute bedlam, but there was a method to the madness. 

His intentions were good, but Marissa finally told him to not worry about doing everyone else's job. Alan acquiesced, gave up trying to manage everything and simply hung on for the ride. The busboys and hostesses especially were very appreciative to have Alan out of their hair, and they thanked Marissa profusely.

Marissa put her arms around him from behind. He turned and kissed her on the cheek.

"How'd we do?" he asked.

"Two hundred eighty-seven customers on a hundred and five tickets in the main dining room," she whispered in his ear. Of course, this was all computerised and controlled from the office. All she had to do was run a nightly report. "The average check was about seventy bucks. Add in our business from the bar, and we grossed about eighty-five hundred dollars tonight."

Alan smiled. "That's about ten percent better than we thought we'd do."

"Mm-hmm. Oh, and Dr. Emerson from the graduate college wants to have their winter faculty and staff banquet here in December," Marissa replied. She sucked on Alan's ear lobe gently. "Everyone is cleaning up. What doesn't get done tonight can be finished in the morning. Send these folks home and then meet me in the garden."

Then she stood and went back into the office to change.

When they were planning the restaurant, they wanted a bar area, a main dining room with private, romantic seating and a large banquet room. In the original plans Brianne had drawn up, she envisioned an outdoor seating area off the main dining area. But that was anticipating moving into an existing structure.

Since they were building their own facility, Alan and Marissa could do anything they wanted. They had several different designs for an outdoor dining area, but they didn't like any of the initial drawings.

After some out of the box thinking, they designed a square building with the middle cut out and an open-air patio in the center of the restaurant. They retained the bar, split the main dining room into two smaller and more intimate rooms on one side, and had another smaller dining room on the other side along with a large banquet and reception area. The kitchen ran along the entire backside of the restaurant and could service all of the dining areas at once.

That patio was their pride and joy, though. There were tables for dining and a full-service bar near a small garden and some benches. Sliding glass doors opened up into the banquet room and it was accessible from all the other customer areas. In the summer time, it would be comfortable at night and in the spring and fall, they had outdoor heaters set up to keep their patrons warm. If they wanted, they could set up a stage and have some outdoor music under the stars.

The only time it would be unusable was during rain, snow or the dead of winter.

Some of the plants were live, some were fake. There was a fountain in the middle and frescos on the walls. The theme for the restaurant was an Italian villa and the patio was the ultimate expression of that theme.

Above the bar and at each entrance to the patio was a simple sign that read, "Bree's Garden".

Marissa stood at the bar with a bottle of chilled champagne in a bucket next to her.

Alan came out one of the side doors. When he saw her, he drew in a sharp breath.

After they returned from Las Vegas, Marissa never spent another night in her house. She moved into Alan's house because it was bigger and in a better neighbourhood. Alan encouraged her to make his house into their home, even though it meant that she would be replacing some of Brianne's things with her own.

He told her that Brianne was the past; she was the future. While he didn't want to forget his first wife, Alan saw no point in hanging on to everything about her. Marissa and Alan moved some of Brianne's things around. She never threw any of Brianne's things away; if she ran across something and couldn't find a place for it, she boxed it up, but only Alan threw anything out. Alan retained a private study in one of the upstairs bedrooms and that's were most of Brianne's things went, although a fair number of Marissa's ended up there, too.

Alan kept lots of pictures around the house. Some of Brianne. Some of Marissa. Some of him.

Marissa never felt jealous or threatened by Alan's attachment to his late wife because he never acted like he was pining away for her. She recognised that Alan cherished memories. Brianne had been a part of Alan's life for so long, it would have been crazy to expect him to suddenly leave her behind. And Marissa liked that she was making new memories with him, and those were just as dear to him as any from his first marriage.

There was one picture Alan kept in his study that Marissa knew he especially loved. It was next to his desk. Brianne was sitting on a park bench wearing a long blue denim skirt, a white blouse and a woven hat. She was surrounded by flowers and beauty. She was staring lovingly at Alan and whenever Marissa looked at the picture, she knew exactly how the other woman felt.

In the weeks before the restaurant opened, Marissa went into the boxes of Brianne's clothes, found that same outfit and had it fitted to her. She hoped Alan wouldn't mind.

Alan saw her standing there and smiled gently.

He walked over to Marissa and gave her a tender kiss.

She handed a glass of champagne to her husband. They raised their glasses.

"To Brianne," Marissa said softly. 

"To us," he replied somberly.

"She would have been very proud of you tonight, Alan."

"You are the one who made this happen," Alan replied, "Not me."

"You'd have gotten this done without me, honey," she said, tilting the brim of the hat up and kissing her husband.

"But not nearly as well," he pointed out. "I appreciate all the work you've put into this. You didn't have to, you know. It wasn't your dream."

"Not at first." Marissa sipped her champagne and then topped them both off. "But her dream became your dream. Then your dream became mine. I guess it's ours now."

"I guess so," he said with a resigned sigh. "I wish she could have seen this."

"She can, Alan." Her hand touched him gently on the arm and she pointed up, out of the garden and to the stars that shone across the sky. "That's why she is so proud of you. Because you made it happen." 

Marissa could only imagine how hard it was for him to be there, in the restaurant his first wife had built in her mind from the ground up, but never saw through to fruition.

He looked distracted, and she couldn't blame him.

Next to the champagne was a remote control. Marissa picked it up and flipped a switch. The stereo behind the bar turned on. 

A familiar song began to play.

Alan closed his eyes. As he slipped into his reverie, he smiled gently and took Marissa in his arms. The music surrounded them, coming over outdoor speakers hidden throughout the patio.

They danced, cheek to cheek, each lost in their own private thoughts.

Marissa thought back to the first night they had spent together. She reflected back on the past two and a half years and was so grateful to the fates for bringing this man—her best friend, her lover, her partner, her soulmate—into her life.

When the song ended, there were tears in both their eyes.

"Thank you," Alan whispered. "For everything."

Marissa looked into his eyes and although she couldn't see it, she was sure she had the same simple smile that she and Brianne shared. The one that told Alan how much they loved him.

She pressed her lips to Alan's. 

Then she pushed him towards one of the tables. When he had almost backed into one of the armless chairs, she stopped and began unbuckling his belt.

"You don't—" he started, but she silenced him with a kiss.

Alan's dress pants fell to the ground and he sat back in the chair.

Marissa lifted the skirt up over her hips, tilted Alan's head back and pressed her lips against her husband's.

His cock was hard and she sat down on it. She was still slick from their earlier encounter and he filled her up easily.

They both let out a satisfied moan.

"Alan," she whispered, pressing her body against him. His arms pulled her close. "I love you. I have loved you since the first day we met. I just didn't know it then. You have no idea how much you changed my life. You loved me, even when I didn't think I deserved it. . . . You saved me."

She paused long enough to kiss him. "I can't possibly repay you for everything you've given me. I know there's one other dream Brianne had. I have the same one. And I know you do, too. I want a baby. Or two. Or three. Or however many we can love together."

Her hand went to her left arm, just above the elbow. There was a fresh bandage there that had been covered all night by the jacket she wore over her blouse. "I had the Norplant taken out today. I probably won't get pregnant tonight, but that doesn't mean we can't start trying now."

Alan buried his face in his wife's chest. They held onto each other desperately.

Under the night sky, with the stars looking down from the heavens, Alan and Marissa made love in Bree's Garden.

A slight breeze blew around them, and the wind seemed to whisper the words.

"I love you."

Epilogue

Marissa cried out. She was covered in sweat. She clutched Alan close to her. There were stars shooting out of the corners of her eyes.

"Give me one more push!" Dr. Callaway said. "We're almost there! One more, Marissa!"

She let loose with a primal grunt. 

There was a searing pain. Marissa threw her head back and screamed.

An instant later, she went numb and only vaguely remembered the next several minutes. 

Soon enough, though, Alan was holding her in his arms. His soft touch had been a constant. She rested her head on his shoulder.

In her arms was a crying, wrinkled mass of flesh. The little girl was a healthy 8 pounds, 2 ounces, 20½ inches long.

She didn't get pregnant that first night at the restaurant. It took a couple of weeks for her body to adjust to no longer having Norplant to regulate her ovulation. But it wasn't much longer before she had some instinctive maternal revelation that she was pregnant.

Alan was understandably super-protective of his wife and baby. After having lost a spouse and a son in childbirth, he made sure Marissa and the baby had the best care available. At a couple of points, Marissa wanted to strangle him because he was hovering too much, but that may have been the hormones and not just his neurotic paranoia.

Business was booming. After the opening, they got lots of good reviews and word of mouth quickly spread. "A Taste of Italy" became a favourite for people looking to have a romantic evening, and their Valentine's Day reservation list was filled a month in advance. Same thing for the high school prom nights. The banquet room was in use almost every weekend and some people were inquiring about a catering service. 

As the one who was handling most of the restaurant's business side, Marissa was wary of growing too big, too fast, but they were making money, paying down their debts and ensuring that their best employees were retained. So when it came time for Marissa to take some time off to have her baby, the business was in good shape, and there were enough competent and loyal staff around so that she and Alan could work from home and come in less often.

Almost a year to the day after the restaurant opened, Alan and Marissa were greeting a party of six when something clicked in Marissa's body.

"Sorry to leave you folks so quickly," she told the customers and handed them off to another hostess. "Alan, your baby's coming and we have got to go!"

So off they rushed, amidst a chorus of well-wishes from the staff and patrons at the restaurant. On the way, they called her parents who got on the next flight into town.

"What are you going to name her?" the nurse asked once the baby had been bathed and Marissa was back in her room.

Alan and Marissa exchanged a knowing glance.

When they found out they were having a girl, there was no doubt whom the baby would be named after, but Alan especially wanted their daughter to have her own name.

"Breana," Alan said, cradling his wife and his child in his arms.

The new life was the most beautiful thing either of them had ever seen. 

Marissa nodded wearily, "Breana Marie Gibson."

She kissed Alan and then the top of the baby's head. For someone who had given up on love not that long ago, she held the two most important people in her life close, never wanting to let them go.



Impersonating Brianne



She was nude, covered in moonlight. Her hair shimmered ethereally.

Marissa straddled Alan's lap. His hands went to her legs, caressing the soft skin on her hips and thighs. She felt his cock twitch beneath her. Her hands brushed his chest. Her fingernails gently ran along the lines from his shoulders and down his arms.

Leaning in, her hair fell over her face. Alan brushed it away, his hand under her chin. He brought her lips to his, and the two kissed for the first time.

It was a soft, lingering kiss. His hands cupped her face, his fingertips gently tracing her delicate features. He continued to kiss her, almost lovingly.

His eyes were closed. Marissa nibbled her way over to his ear and down his neck.

Alan gasped softly every time her teeth brushed his skin.

She took his hands in hers and pressed his palms against her breasts. His touch was tentative at first, then he squeezed them gently and it was her turn to cry out softly.

Marissa began to slowly grind her hips against Alan's. She could feel his cock beneath her, becoming engorged and excited.

Their lips met again.

Alan rolled her nipples between his fingers and thrust upwards with his hips. The head of his cock brushed her labia.

She looked at his face once again in the moonlight. His eyes were still closed. His breathing was shallow.

Taking his cock in her hand, she guided it to the entrance of her pussy. She was slick and she rubbed him against her clit a couple of times to get some more juices flowing.

He tried to push into her.

Marissa rocked her hips forward and took the tip of his cock inside her. Then she squeezed him once with her vaginal muscles and he gasped.

Very slowly, she lowered herself on to him. His grip on her breasts tightened and she bit her lip to keep from crying out again.

When he was all the way inside her, Alan let out a deep, slow moan. 

He arched his back, trying desperately to make sure that every bit of his cock was inside her pussy. She squeezed him again and his mouth fell open.

Alan's head was thrown back. Marissa noticed a tear fall from the corner of his eye on to the pillow.

Immediately, she wished she had not agreed to let Alan have her without a condom. It wasn't that she was worried about getting pregnant or contracting a venereal disease. She already knew that wouldn't happen.

She had boundaries, ways to compartmentalise her clients. A condom was not just a physical barrier between her pussy and her client's cock, it was an emotional barrier, too. The wall between her and the client was symbolic of her emotional detachment from him, and Alan had convinced her to let him through.

Marissa liked Alan. It wasn't because he was rich or good looking. Or because he paid her in cash. It was because he was kind and funny. He was humble and self-deprecating. Instead of talking about himself, he asked about her. He treated her like a woman, not a whore. If she had met him any other setting, he not only would have been boyfriend material, but he would have been a keeper, too.

While dancing with him, she saw something different about Alan. Something that made him better than her other clients. Humanity. To her other clients, she was just a source of physical pleasure. To Alan, she was a companion, not an object. He was also suffering, although she could not quite figure out what the source was. She was curious about Alan's past, but her maternal side also wanted to ease Alan's hurt in a way she had never felt about any of her other clients.

Holding the erect cock inside her, Marissa began to grind her hips. Alan hadn't moved. His back was arched and he pushed his hips upwards. Into her.

His hands were on her breasts, cupping them gently. 

Alan's mouth fell open as Marissa rode him. 

Slowly. Gently.

As a professional call girl, she was well practised at feigning tenderness. Feigning comfort. Feigning enjoyment. It was a business for her, after all.

This time was different. Something subtle. Inexplicable.

Alan wasn't fucking her. They were making love. And she wasn't feigning anything. She didn't have to.

She bounced up and down on him. She could feel the head of his cock brushing the walls of her pussy. He was not the longest or the thickest man she had ever had, but he seemed to fit the best.

Her hips moved faster. His thrusts came harder.

His eyes were still closed. The hands on her breasts squeezed a little firmer.

Marissa lifted her hips so that only the tip of his cock was still inside her. He whimpered softly.

Then she brought herself down on him, hard and fast.

Something began to build in her that she hadn't felt for a long, long time. Something that she had never felt with a client.

Alan's face shone in the moonlight. The shadows accentuated his inner pain. The glow highlighted his vulnerability.

Marissa put her hands over his. Using his arms to steady her, she began to grind harder and faster.

Both their breaths came shorter. 

She threw her head back and arched her back, trying desperately with every stroke to take as much of Alan's cock inside her. 

His fingers pinched her nipples and she cried out.

Alan thrust his hips upwards and she cried out louder.

Marissa tried to focus on Alan. She wanted to forget about the tingling in her toes. She needed to take control of their relationship again. To distance herself from him. She tried to contain the low, throaty growl that started in her chest.

But it was too late.

Faster. Harder.

The two of them moved in unison. Her hands clenched Alan's.

He tried to sit up, but Marissa forcefully pushed him back down on the bed. He thrust forward with his hips one more time and it brushed the inside of her pussy in just the right spot.

She shuddered with pleasure. Her pussy contracted around him, flooding with her juices.

Marissa felt faint. Waves of carnal bliss washed over her. She could vaguely feel his cock shooting off inside her.

She could feel his cockhead pulsing. The hypersensitive walls of her pussy tingled as he thrust into her again and again, only prolonging her orgasm.

After what seemed like and eternity, she collapsed forward and fell into his arms.

His chest was covered in sweat, as was hers.

Marissa rested her head on his shoulder and she tried in vain to keep the room from spinning. Her ears were filled with the sound of blood pumping through her veins.

She let out a deep sigh. Alan was still inside her. She stretched out her legs and lay on top of him, listening to his ragged breaths.

Alan's arms were around her, holding her comfortingly.

Neither said a word for a long time.

Marissa wondered what he was thinking about. She wondered if she was getting too close to this client. She wondered what it was about Alan that had triggered her orgasm.

She felt Alan's hands moving up and down her back. His fingertips brushed her skin. The touch was tender. Her senses were still heightened from the explosion of delectation she had just come down from.

"Thank you," Alan whispered.

Marissa wanted to reply, but she couldn't find the words. 

Thank you? she thought. For what?

 

Instead she lifted her head and kissed him gently. His eyes were still closed, but his lips eagerly met hers. She could see tears running down from the corners of his eyes.

His arms closed around her and he held her tight against him. His embrace was loving. 

She lost track of how long they held each other.

Finally, his body jerked a couple of times and his breathing became slow and regular. 

She stayed in Alan's comforting embrace for a few more minutes. When she was sure he was asleep, Marissa slipped out of the bed, went to the window and closed the curtains so the morning light wouldn't be too bright.

Marissa went to the bathroom, brushed her teeth and returned to her lover. Alan had rolled over on his side, facing away from her. 

Propping herself up on an elbow, she watched him sleeping, his face only an outline in the dim light. He looked so peaceful. So vulnerable.

With one hand, Marissa traced a line that ran up his arm and across his shoulder, then up his neck. She wiped the remnants of his tears away. Her fingertips caressed his face, and he smiled slightly in his sleep.

Then she pulled the sheets over them and lay back down, one arm under the pillows and the other around her client.

"Who is she, Alan?" Marissa whispered. "Who were you dancing with? Who were you making love to?"

Her only answer was the soft rhythmic sounds of his breathing.

"Who's the lucky girl?"

*************************** 

When she awoke the next morning, Marissa was alone in the bed. Somehow she had not only overslept, but she had slept through her client getting up and leaving her. 

I'm slipping, she thought. She got out of the bed and went into the shower. After cleaning up, she slipped into a bathrobe and went back to the bedroom. She thought to order something from room service for breakfast, so she went into the outer room.

Next to the phone was a note written in Alan's neat print.

Good morning!

 

I'm off to a bunch of meetings. If you're bored, come check out a couple. 

 

We have a break at 11:30 and I think I'm going to skip the boxed lunch they're packing for us. Meet me at the Pyramid Café down by the casino at 11:45 and we'll get something to eat. 

 

Please wear the denim jumper for me.

 

See you then,

 

Alan

 

Marissa put the note down and turned the TV on. After some mindless morning filler, she got dressed.

She found the jumper he was talking about and decided to wear a simple white t-shirt under it. The jumper buttoned down the front and went down to just above her knees. She put on a pair of short heels that showed off her legs. 

Pausing at the door, she made sure she had her room key, a few dollars in cash, and her cell phone.

After the quick ride down the "inclinator"—the elevators that were angled at 39° to match the slope of the pyramid—Marissa was on the casino floor. She walked around aimlessly for a while, trying to sort out her confused feelings.

Confused because she was always very careful to never invest herself in her clients. It was how she managed to stay sane while putting her body up for sale. She fixated herself on the money and divested herself of any other attachments. Marissa had worked for Laurie for several years and feeling anything for the client was one thing the older call girl had warned her about.

So far, that hadn't been a problem. Until now.

There was something about Alan that made her want to like him. Most of her clients were pompous idiots, who thought they were better than her. They treated her like hired help. Of course, they paid for her services, but there was always a clear professional boundary for her.

With Alan, she didn't quite know where that boundary was. She provided a service and allowed men to use her for sex. Sometimes rough, sometimes kinky. Marissa always expected to be treated professionally; indeed, if a man was abusive or a bad client, word got back to Laurie quickly and he never patronised any of her girls again.

However, none of her clients were ever kind to her. Sure they could be nice, but none of them would ever have given her money to go shopping like Alan did. But it wasn't just that. None of them would have taken her dancing. Mostly her clients wanted her to fuck and suck and then leave. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had held her through the night or had asked her what she liked or wanted to do.

Just thinking about Alan reminded her of the orgasm she had the night before and that made her uncomfortable. Sex was her business, but it hadn't been her pleasure for some time. She dated a couple of guys, but was always disinterested in sex. After all, with a job spent on her back, why would she want to do that in her off time?

Remembering the feeling made her tingly inside. Marissa frowned, trying once again to push Alan back into one of her many business compartments. After circling the casino floor a couple of times, she registered at the slots desk, picked up a "club" card and sat down at a machine to start earning points towards comps.

After a while (and down a few bucks) she looked at her watch. It was almost time to meet him. She cashed out and took her coins to the cage to be counted.

Winding her way through the casino, she found Alan waiting for her outside the Pyramid Café. He waved to her and they got in line.

"How are the seminars?" Marissa asked.

Alan shrugged. "So-so. There was a good forum on taxes this morning but I went to another on management styles that was a waste of my time. What have you been up to?"

Trying not to think about you, she thought. "Not much. Just waiting around for lunch."

The got through the line with a sandwich and a salad and then found a table. He continued to engage her small talk on a variety of subjects.

As they sat there, she noticed that his eyes kept straying to her body. The jumper hugged her in all the right places, accentuating the roundness of her breasts and the fullness of her hips. She saw desire in his eyes, desire that had been pent up for so long and longed for release. He reached under the table and caressed her leg.

She knew at that moment why he had asked her to dress that way. She didn't mind. It was all part of her job. Plus, she was flattered at the way Alan looked at her. With desire.

When they were both finished eating, Alan slung his bag over his shoulder and took her hand. Their fingers intertwined easily and they looked like any number of other couples in the resort. He led her back towards the convention and meeting area.

The Luxor is a big place with lots of people. That meant chances for privacy were few and far between. They went to the exhibition hall that was filled with vendors selling everything from HR and tax software to industrial ovens to kitchen supplies to table decorations.

Alan led her to the back of the hall and then when no one was looking, they slipped out a side door into a deserted utility corridor. Moving quickly down the hallway, they found a set of double doors that led to the outside of the building. Around a corner was a loading dock but some bushes provided a little bit of cover. They didn't see anyone.

He dropped his bag, pulled her close and their lips met. His hands cupped her shapely ass and he pressed her against the side of the building.

Marissa's hands went to his belt. Soon his pants and boxers were down around his knees and his hard cock sprung out.

She felt his hands under her jumper and he pushed her panties down over her hips. They fell to the ground. She stepped out of them and spread her legs. 

The head of his cock pressed against her. She lifted her hips up and it slipped easily into her. Her pussy was wet from the spontaneity and from desire that welled up from within her.

"I've been thinking about you all morning, Marissa," he whispered in her ear.

"Shut up and fuck me," she replied, sinking down onto his length.

Alan began to thrust into her and she couldn't stop herself from crying out. He let out a grunt and his hips began to move faster. 

His weight pressed her against the side of the building. With every thrust, she felt his lust. Marissa wrapped her arms around his neck and they kissed, their tongues intertwined.

This was how she was used to sex. Hard. Rough. Fast.

She brought her legs up and locked them behind Alan's back. His hands were still under her ass and they clenched her with every thrust.

What she wasn't used to was the passion she felt. Instead of being detached, she was excited.

Every thrust brought another feral moan from the two of them. He was moving faster and harder.

All she could do was hold on and absorb each blow. 

He let out a series of sharp moans and she knew he was close. She squeezed his cock with her pussy; the Kegels really worked.

Alan pushed her head to the side and his lips went to her neck. Marissa cried out.

Her pussy was slick and his cock once again found the spot. With every thrust, the top of his cock brushed her clit.

Harder. Faster.

She squeezed him again and it was all he could take.

He gave her one final thrust and then with a growl, Alan's cock erupted with a torrent of cum. She felt her pussy flood with warm juices, some of them her own.

They stay pressed up against the wall for a few moments as his cock continued to spurt inside her.

Both needed a chance to catch their breath. Marissa unwrapped her legs from around Alan and set her feet both on the ground. 

She pushed him back and his cock slipped out of her with an audible pop. They looked at each other for a moment, lust in both their eyes.

Remembering where they were, she quickly dropped to her knees. She took his deflating cock in her mouth and sucked the cum off it. Then she pulled his boxers and pants up, tucked in his shirt and tried to make him look presentable. 

Once he looked like he was back together, she pushed her jumper down and smoothed out the creases.

Alan hadn't moved or taken his eyes off her. They smoldered with desire, even though some of it had just been spent.

She pulled him close and they kissed again. This kiss was gentle. Tender.

"You were thinking about me all morning?"

Alan nodded. Marissa picked her panties up off the ground and brushed the crotch against her slit, leaving a dark spot on the cotton. Then she folded them neatly and slipped them into his pocket.

"Now you can think about me all afternoon." She winked and pushed him away. He stood there, still dazed.

"There's . . . um," he could barely think clearly enough to form the words. "There's a . . . uh . . . dinner tonight . . . at 6:30. Think of what you would like to do after that."

He picked up his bag and pulled on the door. It had locked behind them.

They shared an embarrassed laugh.

Arm in arm, they walked back around the building, trying not to look suspicious.

A little while later, Alan was back in his meetings and Marissa was feeling a little better about herself.

Their afternoon quickie was a little more to her liking. It was fast and raw. It was completely devoid of any emotional attachments. He had taken her and had his way with her.

Alan had used her for the sex, and in Marissa's mind, that was okay. That's what he was paying her for.

But there was another little part of her that could not be kept quiet not matter how hard she tried to push it from her mind.

That part wanted to be used. That part of her had recognised that Alan wanted her so badly, that he couldn't wait to get inside her. She liked that he couldn't control himself and needed to take her. It made her feel sexy in a way that she had not felt around any of her other clients.

It also stirred her own desire and that's what scared her.

She spent the afternoon in the casino, playing some of the table games and some more slots. She made friends with a couple of the pit bosses and dealers. It helped that she was throwing $100 bills around and that she always had a good head for math. After a couple of hours, she was not only a little ahead of the casino, but she had earned some comps which might come in useful later.

At about 4:30, Marissa scooped up her slot winnings into a big plastic cup and headed back to their room. She put the cup and a handful of table chips on the desk and went into the bathroom to clean up. 

Alan came in a few minutes later, as she was sitting on the toilet, reading a magazine. He flung the door open, saw her and backed out immediately.

Marissa found Alan sitting on the couch, poring over a packet he had picked up from a vendor. She sat down next to him and pretended to be interested in whatever it was he was reading. A couple of times, she caught him eyeing her legs or her breasts.




Impersonating Brianne



He excused himself and went off to the bathroom.

With a pernicious grin, she slipped the jumper and t-shirt over her head. She folded it and placed it over the arm of the small sofa, laying her bra on top. Then she sat down, leaned back and spread her legs, waiting for Alan to return.  

She heard him inhale sharply when he saw her. Time seemed to stand still as the two stared at each other, their mutual desire hanging in the air.

Marissa made the first move. She stood and walked over to him, making sure there was some extra bounce in her breasts and an exaggerated sway in her hips. He couldn't take his eyes off her naked form.

"It looks like someone has had a long day," she pulled his shirt out of his khakis and unbuckled his belt. "Why don't we relax a bit?"

He reached out and pulled her to him. Their lips met and their kiss broke only when his shirt came off. Soon, the rest of his clothes were in a heap.

Marissa pushed his naked body down on the couch and she straddled him. His cock was already hard and she came down on it with one swift motion.

Her pussy was still slick from the orgasm he had left in her earlier. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled Alan forward, burying his face between her breasts. 

Alan nibbled at her, gently at first. His lips brushed across her breasts. His hands were around her back, gripping the cheeks of her ass as she rode him.

Throwing her head back, Marissa thrust her chest forward. Her hips gyrated slowly, taking all of Alan's cock inside her.

She felt lips around one of her rock-hard nipples and she pulled Alan closer to her breast.

The familiar tingle started once again in her fingers and toes. 

This time, she was using him. His cock was her toy. She bounced up and down on him, grinding her clit against him. 

Firmly in control, she maneuvered his cock so it brushed all the right places on her insides. And it fit so well.

She pulled his head back by the hair and looked him in the eyes. Eyes that seethed with passion.

"Do you like that?" she whispered, bringing herself down hard on him.

"Yes," he gasped.

"Good," she smiled at him, trying to stay in control of the situation.

Marissa lifted herself up so that his cock was almost out of her. She held him there for a long moment before taking it all back inside her with a single swift stroke. 

They both moaned with undisguised bliss.

She never took her eyes from his.

Her hips moved faster. Their grunts came harder.

Taking one of her breasts in her hand, she pushed it into Alan's mouth, but they never broke eye contact.

Even as he suckled on her, their intensity did not waver.

Marissa felt like her pussy was about to explode, but still she fixed her gaze on his eyes. 

Up and down. Harder. Faster. In and out.

Her body moved with abandon. Her pulse raced.

She had never lost control with a client, yet there she was, riding Alan's cock like a woman possessed.

Finally, she could contain it no longer. She arched her back and came down on him one more time.

Her reward came in the form of a stars shooting out of the corners of her eyes. A lustful gasp escaped her lips.

Marissa's pussy was filled with hot jism. Alan's eyes were shut, his face rapturous. His head was thrown back on the couch. His hands grasped her hips, his knuckles white.

The orgasm kept going, even though neither of them had moved. Alan's cock was still buried inside her. 

There was ringing in her ears.

She moved her hips slightly as the sensation receded.

It took her several minutes to catch her breath and for Alan to recover.

Marissa leaned forward and kissed Alan gently. He didn't respond at first, but slowly, his lips met hers. He lifted his head and brushed the hair out of her face.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked quietly.

"You," she giggled and pulled him close. Some of her clients needed to have their egos stroked, so she would lie to them and pretend to be turned on when she was really formulating a shopping list in her head. She was very good at it. With Alan, though, she didn't feel the need to patronise him with meaningless platitudes. She found that he genuinely turned her on.

He nuzzled up against her neck and kissed her collarbone, causing a tingle to run down her spine.

"God damn, that was good," Alan finally managed to say. His breathing was still laboured, but it was now under control.

"I just want you to feel like you're getting your money's worth," Marissa replied, although this time it was more about her than anything else.

"Oh, I am," he said. His hand guided her mouth to his and they kissed again.

His lips were gentle. His touch was tender. She felt like his lover, not his call girl.

"I probably should have asked you this earlier," Marissa started. "What else do you like?"

"You can meet me naked at the end of every day," Alan chuckled. He leaned back on the couch and she saw his eyes take her in, from her piercing eyes to her neatly trimmed pussy.

"What else?"

"It's been so long, I had almost forgotten how wonderful sex was," he said. Marissa wanted to ask him more, but decided against it. Not yet. "I like everything you've done so far."

"That's what I like to hear. I guess that makes you one satisfied customer."

"Very satisfied," he replied.

"Do you like to be on top? Doggie style?" she asked, hoping to draw him out.

Alan thought for a minute. "I don't think I've found any kind of sex I didn't like."

They shared a nervous laugh.

"What can I do for you?" she asked, and it wasn't just because she was concerned for him as a paying customer.

Alan didn't say anything. His gaze became distant. Marissa realised he was seeing her again.

"Do you like it when I talk dirty?" she asked softly, trying to draw his attention back to her.

"Yes."

"Do you want to hear me scream for you?"

"Mmmmm . . . yes."

"Do you like to be in control, or do you want me to be in control?"

Alan's fingertips ran the length of her arms and down her chest. Her nipples hardened once again at his touch. 

"I like to be in control," he whispered.

"Do you like it when I tease you?"

He let out a deep sigh. "Yes."

"What else do you want me to do?"

Alan paused. The look on his face was a cross between tortured desire and hesitant indecision.

"It's okay," Marissa said. "What do you want me to do?"

"There's probably no delicate way to put this," he said nervously. "I want you to suck my dick. And I want to eat your pussy. I like sex to be spontaneous."

"So I should keep up what I'm doing?" she said with a smile.

"Yes," he breathed.

She couldn't help but notice that his eyes kept dropping to her breasts, which hung right in front of his face. Marissa decided to tease him a little bit more.

Quickly dismounting him, Marissa dropped to her knees in front of Alan. She took a breast in each hand and then surrounded Alan's cock with her tits.

She rubbed their cum all over her chest and moaned seductively. With practised strokes, she milked a couple more drops from the tip. Alan's flaccid cock twitched in her grasp, but she stood before he could sport an erection.

Cupping her breasts, she stuck out her chest and threw her head back. He couldn't take his eyes from between her breasts, which glistened under the light.

For a second, she thought he might throw her down on the couch and have his way with her again, but instead she turned and walked away, making sure to swing her hips back and forth. 

"We have to be at dinner in a little while," she said in a sultry voice, then disappeared into the bedroom.

Marissa knew that Alan hadn't taken his eyes off her. She knew that she had hooked him in. 

The only question was whether he had hooked her, too.

Alone in the bathroom, she rubbed Alan's cum into her skin, savouring his warmth. She pinched her nipples indulgently, remembering the feel of his lips on them. Almost none of her other clients had ever played with her breasts, unless they had some soft of odd tit fetish. Most of them just wanted to get into her pussy, mouth or ass, shoot off and then be done with her.

She got the feeling from Alan that he wanted to pleasure her as much as he wanted pleasure for himself. Marissa tingled at the though of him going down on her.

After finishing in the bathroom, she found Alan in the bedroom, trying to find something to wear. He had his boxers on, a pair of khakis and a button down shirt. 

They dressed separately and in silence. She put on a black bra and matching lace panties, then dug into the closet for her "little black dress". She already had a couple; sometimes she would accompany clients to social functions. This one was new, bought with the money Alan had given her. Then she fished out a pair of black pumps.

Alan was putting his tie on and a blazer rested on the bed. Marissa was almost ready to go, so she stood between Alan and the mirror and straightened out his shirt and fixed the knot in his tie. 

"You look wonderful," he said softly.

Marissa looked him in the eyes. There was something about this look that disarmed her. She found that she wanted to look good for Alan, not because that was her job. "Thank you. I'll bet you say that to all the girls."

He blushed. Before he could reply, she kissed him gently on the cheek and then went back into the bathroom.

She pulled her hair back, put on some make-up and spritzed herself with some perfume.

Alan was waiting for her in the outer room. He checked to make sure that he had their room key while she picked up her small purse and soon the two were off, walking arm in arm down the hallway.

The banquet was hosted by the conference. First there was a cocktail hour, and Alan networked his heart out. He left cards with everyone who would take one and made a lot of contacts. Marissa let him do most of the talking, but every now and then asked an insightful question so she would appear as his partner, and not just a pretty girl on his arm.

Working for Laurie, she had attended several big hob-knobbing events, so Marissa had picked up on when to say something that sounded interesting and knowledgeable, when to keep her mouth shut and when to laugh at someone important's stupid joke. 

Alan continued to work the room, making contacts with vendors, other entrepreneurs and most importantly, investors. Soon, the dinner started and they found their table. They were seated with six other people. Four were with a company that sold kitchen equipment and two were there on their own.

While Alan tried to work a deal on a brick oven and walk-in freezer, Marissa talked politely with one of the men who had already imbibed a few too many cocktails and kept hitting on her. She looked over at Alan a couple of times noticed him staring at her cleavage, too.

Alan had the prime rib while she had a chicken and pasta entrée. The food was good, and soon there was a short keynote from a successful business owner and then the party started.

With dinner over, the guests had some options for further entertainment. In one room was karaoke, which Alan and Marissa both wanted to avoid. In another was a stand-up comedian who was pretty funny. His act was followed by some of the Luxor's house entertainers. In the third room, a bar was set up with a DJ. This is where most of the business was taking place.

Marissa went with Alan as he continued to make conversation with anyone he thought could help him get his restaurant off the ground. A little later, the party was still going, but Alan looked like he had talked to everyone he wanted to see.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked, taking her hand.

"Not yet," she replied. "I think you need to dance with me first."

He didn't have to be asked twice and they quickly made their way to the dance floor. There were a handful of couples already there.

Alan took her in his arms and the two began to sway back and forth. 

"Did you get a lot done tonight?" she asked.

"I think so," he said, not sure why she wanted to talk shop. "I think I might be able to get those guys from TGR to come down about $2,000 on the oven."

"You mean the guys who kept staring at my tits during dinner?" she whispered in his ear. Alan's hand tensed around her waist. "Maybe I should go talk to them. They might come down another $2,000 for me."

"If you can get them to move more than $2,000 on the price, I'll give you half the difference in cash," Alan said, and she was pretty sure he wasn't joking.

"Then I might have to go see them tomorrow," Marissa giggled. "Look over my shoulder. One of them . . . I think his name is Chris . . . is standing over by the bar. Don't stare. He can't keep his eyes off my ass."

"I think everyone is staring at your ass," Alan said and she thought his compliment was heartfelt. Throughout the night, she had drawn more than her fair share of admiring glances. Her dress was sexy, but not slinky or slutty. She knew how to carry herself in public in a way that was almost regal, but not aloof. It was confidence, and she had the act down pat.

"You're not staring at my ass, Alan," she said, blowing softly in his ear. "You keep staring at my tits. . . . You're thinking about your cum that's still all over me, aren't you?"

Alan's jaw dropped. Marissa smiled at him. "It's okay. I did that for you. Did you think that was hot?"

"Yes."

"You like that while I'm talking to all these other guys and they're staring at me, I've got your cum on my chest, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Me, too." She pressed her body against him, mashing her breasts against his chest. She felt a twitch against her leg. "Mmmmm . . . someone else liked it, too."

Marissa looked Alan in the eyes. He radiated lust. 

"What do you want, Alan?"

"I want to take you back up to the room and have you."

"Do you want to make love to me?"

"No." His voice was barely audible. "I want to fuck you."

"How are you going to do that?"

"I'm going to strip you naked, stuff my cock into your tight little cunt and fuck your brains out."

"Mmm . . . that sounds like a good plan, Alan." The song was ending, so she gave him a quick hug. Her teeth raked his earlobe. "Let's go fuck."

The walk back to the room seemed to take forever. The ride up the inclinator was crowded with other guests, some from the conference, some there on vacation. Alan stood in the corner of the elevator, Marissa in front of him. She looked around to make sure no one was looking and she slipped her arm in between them.

Her hand ran up and down the bulge in his pants. Alan put his hands on her hips and pulled her back to him, pressing against her even harder.

They got out of the elevator and moved briskly down the hallway. Her hands were all over him even as he fumbled with the key-card.

Alan pushed her through the doorway and roughly up against the wall. They didn't bother to turn the lights on. The curtains were parted and the room was bathed in a soft starry glow. The look on his face was pure animalistic lust.  

Marissa kicked her shoes off and began to pull at Alan's clothes. His jacket fell off. She slipped the knot out of his tie and unbuttoned his shirt.

His hands were over her, too. They left a trail of clothes across the floor on the way to the bedroom.

Soon, both were naked. Alan's hands roughly cupped her breasts as he bit the side of her neck. She moaned in his ear. 

With one swift motion, Alan pushed her down on the bed. Marissa back-peddled, pushing the sheets down underneath her.

Alan crawled up the bed until he was between her legs, which were spread wide for him.

She took him in her embrace. They kissed again. This time it wasn't tender or gentle. 

Their teeth knocked together. His tongue forced its way into her mouth. Penetrating her.

Marissa's hands reached around him, grasping his ass. She pulled him towards her. His cock brushed her pussy and then pressed against her stomach.

His hands went to her breasts. A soft moan escaped her lips when he squeezed them.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, his voice ragged.

Through the daze, it took Marissa a second to realise that Alan had asked her something. She didn't know what to say. It had been so long since she had heard that question, she didn't have a response.

His kissed her neck, his teeth raking the sensitive parts. She cried out, her body tingling.

"What do you want me to do?" he repeated.

Marissa uttered the first words that came to her. "I want you to fuck me."

She reached for his cock, but he brushed her hands away. She looked him in the eyes, which were clouded with lust. His gaze seemed to say, It's my turn now.

Alan still had one hand on her breasts and the other went between him. Marissa felt him take his cock in his fist. She arched her back when the head of his cock brushed against her clit. 

"Oh, god," she moaned. "That feels so good."

All she could do was close her eyes and bite her lip as he rubbed the head against her. The tingling started.

Back and forth across her clit. Her pussy was soaked.

He continued to tease her. She started to grind her hips, hoping that his cock would slip inside her, but every time she thrust forward, he pulled back a little. He knew what she wanted and he was denying her the pleasure.

Pleasure. There was something she hadn't had during sex in a long, long time.

"Do you like that?" he whispered.

"Yessss," Marissa slurred.

"What do you want me to do?" he said again.

"I want you to fuck me."

"Where do you want me to fuck you?"

"I want you to fuck my pussy," she moaned, lost to the desire that flooded her body. "I'm so wet for you, Alan. Please fuck me."

The sensation of him rubbing against her was frustrating. He had her so near the edge, but his movement slowed so not to take her over.

Marissa felt his lips on her earlobe. His breath tickled her neck.

"Please, Alan," she said plaintively. "Please fuck me with your cock."

Her hands reached for him again. She felt him pull back. His strong grasp pulled her hands away from him. 

Alan held her by the wrists and pinned her arms above her head. She struggled against him, but didn't really want to break free of his hold. 

Marissa had never allowed herself to be tied up or bound by a client. She flat out didn't trust any of them, and bondage is all about trust. This time, her thoughts were clouded with her own desire, and if Alan told her that he was about to handcuff her, she probably would have let him.

With one hand holding her down, his other hand went back to his cock and he resumed rubbing it against her.

Marissa opened her eyes and watched Alan. He was staring at her, a libidinous look in his eyes. Every time his cock brushed her clit, she gasped slightly.

She felt the head of his cock slip lower. She pushed her hips forward, and the tip of his cock entered her. It slipped in easily, she was so slick.

Wanting more, she started to grind on him, but Alan pulled back.

"Do you like that?" he asked, and she remembered that he liked to be in control. 

"Yes," she whispered, fully willing to submit to him.

Her legs were spread wide and Alan pushed a little further into her, so that the entire bulb at the end of his cock was inside her.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Marissa felt Alan start to work in and out of her. He never gave her more than just his cockhead, but soon had a steady rhythm.

"Please," she said, her voice barely audible. "Please, Alan . . . Please fuck me."

She knew he would like to hear her beg. 

Her pussy only became wetter. The muscles in her body were taut, and needed release.

Try as she might, she couldn't get any more of Alan's cock inside her than he was willing to give. She let out a frustrated groan.

The hand between them went to her breasts and she thought for a minute that she was finally going to get the full length of his engorged sex, but he continued to rock his hips back and forth slowly. 




Impersonating Brianne



Marissa arched her back when Alan's mouth went to one of her nipples and she pulled helplessly against the hand that held her arms.

"Do you want that cock?" he asked, his voice firm.

"Yes." The tingling grew more intense.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I want that cock," she moaned, although what she meant to say was, Yes, I need that cock.

 

"What do you want that cock to do?"

"I want it to fuck me . . . I want it to pound my pussy until I cum," she said, not believing the words that came out of her mouth. This wasn't the first time she had said something like that to a client. It was just the first time she had meant it. "I want it to cum all over me . . . Please, Alan . . . Give me your cock . . ."

Her voice trailed off. Her body shuddered as Alan squeezed her breast firmly.

Marissa let out a long luxurious moan as Alan slipped slowly inside her. It was a glorious feeling. She wanted to be taken. She wanted to be fucked. But Alan had other ideas.

His head slipped into her and she let him know that she had practised her Kegels earlier in the day. Then more and more of his cock entered her. She wanted to feel it all at once, but he only gave her a little bit at a time.

Her senses were heightened by the sexual excitement. She felt like his cock would never end.

Finally, she felt him sink to the hilt. 

They shared a long, contented sigh.

Alan held her cock inside her for a long moment. They stared into each other's eyes. She smiled up at him and he smiled back. There was something different about this look that they shared and she wasn't sure it was good for their current arrangement.

Marissa pushed that thought out of her mind. Once again, she pulled against the hand that held her, and Alan started to move his cock slowly in and out of her.

"Yes," she moaned. Alan pressed his body against her.

His hips moved faster, slowly building a steady pace. Marissa spread her legs so she could take as much of him inside her as would fit.

The tingling grew more intense.

She started to grind her hips against him. They established a steady rhythm. Her clit rubbed against the top of his cock. 

Her eyes rolled back in her head every time he hit just the right spot.

Marissa absorbed each stroke as they came faster and harder. 

"Oh, god," he moaned, sinking into her.

"Do you like that pussy?" Marissa whispered.

"You're so wet for me." His voice was close to breaking. "God, you're so hot . . ."

She cried out when his mouth went to her breast. He bit one of her nipples and she arched her back, trying to stuff the entire tit in his mouth.

"Oh, Alan," she gasped.

His hips moved faster. She cried out. 

His thrusts came harder. She cried out louder.

The tingling wouldn't stop.

All she could do was scream as Alan pumped his cock in and out of her. For the first time in forever, she lost control during sex. 

Alan felt so good inside her. His cock brushed all the right places. He knew all the right spots.

She gave in to him. She surrendered to the orgasm. And to the man who gave it to her.

Through the haze, she looked up at Alan. The starlight that shone into the room bathed his face in a soft light. His eyes were closed. The look on his face was one of insatiable desire.

"That's it, Alan," Marissa whispered as his jaw fell open. He was close. "Cum inside me . . . Cum all over me . . ."

Her toes went numb as all the blood in her body seemed to rush straight to her pussy. She could no longer contain the explosion of pleasure. 

Marissa's entire body tensed and then she let loose an ear-shattering scream. Her pent-up desire flooded around Alan's cock, which still pounded into her. Harder. Faster.

"Oh, god . . . oh, fuck . . . I'm cumming . . . oh, god . . ." Through her moans, she heard Alan's voice. 

She felt a new, warm flood enter her pussy and knew that Alan's cock was erupting with cum.

His body shuddered, and he released her wrists. 

Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him as close as she could. His cock still pulsed within her.

"Oh, god . . ." his voice trailed off. "Oh, Bree . . ."

Alan collapsed on top of Marissa. He was spent.

Her head still spun. She wasn't sure she had even heard the last part as lightheaded as she was.

They held each other for a long time. Finally, Alan rolled over on his back, his cock slipping out of her. Marissa fell into the crook of his arm, her head resting on his shoulder.

Their bodies were covered in sweat. 

She searched around for the tangled covers and pulled the sheet over them.

Marissa's heart was still pounding. She reached across Alan and felt his arms around her. She felt safe in his comforting embrace and drifted off to sleep not long afterwards.

*************************** 

With a start, Marissa jerked awake. She felt around in the darkness. She was alone in the bed.

Blinking back the haze, she looked for the clock. 3:15. The curtains were drawn, but there was a soft light coming from the outer room. She slipped out of the bed and silently peeked around the corner of the door.

Alan was sitting at the desk, facing away from her and wearing only a bathrobe. His laptop was open in front of him. He was flipping through pictures on the screen.

Marissa could see the side of his face and the laptop LCD display. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He still hadn't heard her.

She looked over his shoulder and her heart jumped into her throat. Alan paused on a picture that must have been taken at his wedding.

He's married? she thought He doesn't wear a ring . . .

The picture was taken outdoors, in a garden somewhere. He was standing there, looking very handsome in his tuxedo. Next to him was a woman who would have been radiant even if she hadn't been in her wedding dress. The woman's appearance was what startled Marissa.

The two were built the same; their hair was the same length and colour, they had the same eyes and even some of the same features. The resemblance was close enough that they might have been sisters.

Marissa was in the business of fulfilling fantasies. Some clients asked her to dress up as a nurse or as a dominatrix, but this was the first time she realised that she had been hired based on her resemblance to someone else.

Whoever she was, the woman in the picture had Alan's heart. With a click of the mouse, he flipped to another picture, again of the two of them. The woman was very pregnant. Alan choked back tears.

Thoughts raced through her mind. Who was she? Why isn't she here with him? Does he want me to be her? 

 

Why do I care?

The maternal part of her wanted to go over and take Alan in her arms. But she dared not interrupt his reverie, even as painful as it was for him. She decided he needed this private moment.

She needed one, too.

Alan was different. He was the first client who seemed to like her, and not just because she was going to be an easy lay for him. He stirred feelings in her that she had not allowed to surface for some time.

Marissa found that she was jealous of the woman. What was her name, again?

Silently, she slipped back into the bed and under the covers, not liking the feelings that she could seemingly no longer control. She pulled the sheets and comforter close around her. A part of her wanted to put the wall back up between her and Alan. That was the businesswoman in her. This was going to be a very lucrative week for her and all she had to do was hit the sack when he wanted to.

The other part of her wanted Alan, and not just for the week. She tried to forget all the nice things he did for her that he didn't have to; opening doors, holding her hand, dancing. Tender, gentle kisses. But she couldn't shake from her mind that he seemed like a really good person who treated her kindly. Like a lady.

Some time later, as the thoughts raced through her head, Alan came to bed. He spooned up next to her and had his arm around her, thinking she was asleep. His body shuddered and his breathing was sporadic. He was crying.

Marissa pretended she was still sleeping. Alan clung to her as the sobs came. She could no longer take it.

Rolling over, she took Alan in her arms. She cradled his head against her chest, the tears now flowing freely. She rocked him back and forth and stroked his hair.

Soon, she was crying, too.

Sleep claimed both of them not long later. They were restless all through the night.

Marissa didn't sleep in again. She heard Alan in the shower. The water shut off and a few minutes later he came out. The curtains were drawn and the room was still dark. Alan dug through the armoire for some clothes. He hadn't noticed that she was awake and was trying his best not to make any noise.

She watched him dress in silence and admired his body. He had his shoes in his hands when he looked over and saw her watching.

Their eyes locked. Neither said a word. 

Alan came over next to her and sat down on the edge of the bed. He looked away, and sadness flashed across his face. He started to say something, but stopped and took a deep breath.

"Listen," he said quietly. "About this morning . . . I—"

"Shhhh." Marissa sat up and put a finger over his lips. She put her arms around his shoulders and gave him a warm embrace. "Not now."

She turned his face towards her and kissed him tenderly.

"You're going to be late," she said finally. "Why don't you meet me for lunch? Same place."

He smiled slightly. "Sure thing."

Alan put his shoes on and went to find his bag. He stopped one more time by the bed and kissed Marissa softly on the cheek.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Then he turned and was gone.

Marissa fell back on the bed, wondering what had just happened between the two of them.

Trying not to overanalyse the situation, she hopped out of bed and slipped into the shower.

She dressed quickly and headed down to the main floor. She headed for the exhibition hall but found that it didn't open for another two hours. 

Not wanting to go back to her room, and not really wanting any time to think, she dug out a couple hundred dollars from her purse and decided to find some mindless entertainment on the casino floor.

When 10:00 rolled around, she cashed out and headed straight for the TGR booth. Some time later, Marissa waited for Alan near the Pyramid Café. He was right on time and the two shared an awkward lunch.

Neither of them knew what to say, as if both expected the other to start the conversation.

Alan seemed distant, and Marissa felt like she had unconsciously put up a wall between them, too. They walked around for a little while, but didn't even hold hands.

He excused himself to head back to the conference seminars. Marissa checked her watch and then went off to take care of some business.

She was pacing nervously when Alan returned to their room. What she had done that afternoon would either make him very, very happy, or it would make him very, very angry.

When he came through the door, he had a puzzled look on his face. 

"Hi," he said, trying to figure out what was going on.

Marissa smiled at him, trying not to fidget.

She knew he half-expected her to greet him naked, just like he asked the day before, but she was wearing a nice pants suit and looking all-business.

"Sit down," she said, immediately wishing she had found a different way to say it. A look of dread crossed Alan's face, even though he wasn't sure that the bad news was.

He set his things down on the desk and then sat on the couch. Marissa continued to pace back and forth.

"So what's up?" he asked, wanting to get it over with.

"I've done something without your permission," she said quietly. He took that pretty well. Some other guys might have started yelling, but Alan was at least going to hear her out.

"Like what?"

"I bought you some things for your restaurant." She steeled herself for the inevitable explosion.

There was a flash of anger in his eyes, but he remained calm. "Okay. What did you buy?"

"Well, I didn't actually buy anything." She went over to the desk and picked up a stack of papers. "But I pretty much committed you to buying all your stuff from TGR."

Alan started looking through the printouts and brochures as she handed them to him a few at a time. Brick ovens. Stoves. Fire-suppression equipment. Dish-washers. Walk-in freezers. Convection ovens. "Where did you get all this?"

"The Luxor loaned me a computer and a printer." Marissa pointed to the desk. When he came in, he hadn't noticed the monitor, keyboard, mouse and laser printer on top of it, nor the desktop tower on the floor.

"Don't you have to pay to rent all this stuff?" he asked.

"Um . . . usually," she stammered. "But they're loaning this to me for free. I'll tell you about that later."

She directed his attention back to the printouts.

"I did some research and checked with a couple of the other vendors down in the exhibition hall. This is the best stuff available for the money."

"How did you learn about all this?" he asked, curiosity momentarily displacing his anger.

"Lovely thing, the internet," she said.

"Don't we have to pay for that, too?" He looked at her bewilderedly.

"Focus, Alan," she said. "I went back to see the guys at TGR and flirted with Chris and Ryan. They're going to sell all this stuff to you for $65,000. Do you like sushi?"

"Do I . . . what? Yes." Alan looked even more confused. "You spent $65,000 of my money?"

"Sixty-four, nine eighty-seven, to be exact. That doesn't include tax or delivery, though. I didn't actually spend it, but I gave them a written commitment that if you bought it from anyone, it would be them."

"Did you check with anyone else? Or maybe with me?" his voice was getting louder. Marissa had a feeling it would come to this, and she really couldn't blame him.

"I did . . . Check with some other people, I mean," she handed him another printout. "After some dealing, the folks at the American Kitchens booth wanted seventy-three six for the same equipment."

He stared in disbelief at the newest printout, a spreadsheet showing an itemised breakdown of all the equipment from a couple different vendors. She pushed another one into his hands.

"I did some more research on the internet, and the retail cost of everything individually is around seventy-five. Plus delivery."

His jaw dropped. Maybe this wasn't going to be as bad as she thought.

There was one final paper that Alan needed to see. It was a bid sheet. Marissa's name was signed at the bottom.

"They need a $10,000 deposit this week, but they can deliver any time," she said softly. 

"How did—" Alan was at a loss for words.

Marissa smiled at him. "I wore a low-cut blouse and all Ryan could do was talk to my chest."

"You can't . . . I mean . . . we're not—" Alan struggled to form the words.

"Technically . . ." Marissa said slowly. "I do work for you . . ."

Alan looked again at the papers, letting it all sink in. She had just saved him over $10,000 and an afternoon of haggling with vendors. Not to mention a stack of research that he no longer had to do himself. 

The anger was long gone from his face. It was replaced by disbelief.

"How did you get them to come down ten grand on all this stuff?" he asked.

"They didn't," Marissa replied with a wicked grin. "I negotiated the price of each piece individually. Ryan and Chris spent the better part of an hour staring at my cleavage and didn't add it up until we got to the final tally."

Very slowly, his face opened into a big smile. Alan stood and gave Marissa a big hug.

He lifted her off the ground and spun her around, laughing with joy.

She hugged him back, happy to have done a good job at something that didn't involve spreading her legs for someone else's pleasure. 

Happier still that she had pleased Alan.

Her boss pulled back and planted a big sloppy kiss on her lips. She was eager to kiss him back. She got the feeling that he was about to trip her right there, when a knock came from the door.

"What the—" he asked.

"Room service," Marissa said with a slight smile. She wiggled out of his arms and smoothed out the wrinkles in her clothes.

He went to the door. Two stewards were in the hallway. They wheeled a cart into the room. With practised efficiency, they set up the cart near the couch and laid out drinks.

Alan slipped the pair a couple of dollars each and watched in amazement as Marissa finished setting up their dinner on the coffee table. 

"I don't know what you like, so I had them send up a little bit of everything," There were half a dozen ceramic serving plates each displaying a wide variety of maki-zushi and nigiri-zushi. There was even a square lacquered bowl with some chirashi. They also brought a couple of salads, some steaming-hot miso soup and some warm sake.

Quite simply, Alan was stunned. He had no idea how resourceful his companion was, but in that moment, he was the most thankful man on the planet.

Marissa set the plates on the coffee table, then threw some of the pillows from the couch on the floor. She sat Alan down next to her and the two dug into the meal.

"I thought maybe you had heard of a nice place to go visit," he said, taking a long sip from his soup bowl.

Marissa smiled. "I wanted to stay in tonight."

They two of them picked their way through the meal, feeding each other and sharing the dishes.

"How did you arrange this little dinner?" Alan asked, slipping a small slice of salmon sashimi into Marissa's mouth with his chopsticks. "I don't even remember seeing a sushi bar in the casino."

"If you make friends with the right people, they can get just about anything here." Marissa picked up a piece of eel and salmon roll and dropped it on to Alan's plate.

"And just who are the right people?"

"Taylor, the pit boss over at the craps tables, has been very good to us."

"How much time have you been spending with other men?" Alan asked teasingly.

"She is very nice," Marissa giggled. "That's how we got the use of the computer and this magnificent feast."

"Is that what you're doing with all your free time?"

"That and buying commercial kitchen equipment."

"How are you doing?"

It took her a second to add up all the numbers in her head. "I'm six hundred down at the slot machines. They may say that the Luxor's got the loosest slots in Vegas, but from what I've seen, that's a big crock of shit."

"Pass me that plate with the rainbow roll on it," Alan said. "You've lost six hundred dollars and they're buying us dinner?"

"No," Marissa replied. "I'm up almost four thousand at the craps table and I'm up about twelve hundred at blackjack."

Alan nearly choked on the bite in his mouth. "You're up forty-six hundred dollars?"

"Almost double my money." She smiled proudly, referring to the cash advance Alan had given her before their trip started.

"How did you manage that?" he asked when he could breathe again.

"I haven't always been in the restaurant business," she replied with a wink.

"Really," he said. "How is it that in two days you can make almost five thousand dollars? It's not like casinos are in business to give money away."

"No they're certainly not," Marissa agreed. "The trick is finding which games have the lowest house advantage and not being cocky. Pass the soy sauce, please."

"So you've been playing craps and blackjack."

"And slots."

"And slots. Don't tell me you just learned Las Vegas table games this week," Alan said incredulously.

"Of course not," she snorted softly. "Dad used to play poker with his friends once a week. He taught me how to play all sorts of games, count cards and do the math in my head. Card games are all about statistics, probability and patience."




Impersonating Brianne



"What about craps?"

"I was bored and got on a hot streak," she shrugged and flashed him a lucky smile.

"Don't tell me this is the casino's reward for you taking their money."

"Not quite," Marissa finished the last bit of roll on a plate and set it aside. "This is their way of rewarding me for giving them the opportunity to take my money, and they hope it will entice me to come back and give them a chance to win their money back and take a little bit more from me."

"You're an amazing woman, Marissa," he breathed softly. "Thank you."

Her heart skipped a beat. The way he was looking made her stomach flutter. He was appreciating her, not what she could do for him, not for how pretty she looked, but just for being herself.

"For what?"

"You've saved me over ten thousand dollars today." He stopped for a moment, unsure of what to say. He smiled instead. "And you bought me dinner. I guess this means I'm yours tonight."

The two of them laughed.

"To you," he said, raising his cup of sake.

"To us," she replied. Their cups clinked together and they downed the warm liquid.

Soon, they were both full. It was still early, but neither of them really wanted to go out. Alan turned the television on while she went in the bedroom and changed. She came out in a nightie that was neither frumpy nor risqué. She sat down next to Alan on the couch and rested her head on his shoulder.

Marissa's heart raced. She knew now was the time.

"What's her name?" she asked softly.

"What?" Alan said, not sure he had heard her correctly.

"What's her name, Alan?"

"Who?"

"The woman you see when we dance and when we make love."

He inhaled sharply, as if she had punched him in the gut. A pained look flashed across his face. He probably would have preferred that she had decked him rather than asked that question. Alan fell silent and Marissa wondered for a second if she had pushed her luck a little too far.

Alan got up from the couch and walked over to the window. He stared out into the desert.

"She was my wife," he said softly. "The restaurant was her dream."

Marissa sat on the couch, wanting to know more about this woman who had captured Alan's heart. He stared out the window, a contemplative look on his face.

"She died almost two years ago, along with our son. Complications from childbirth." He shook his head and sighed bitterly. "I'll bet you think I'm pathetic, don't you? . . . Listen, I'm sorry about this morning. I didn't mean to drag you into this and you certainly don't want to be my shrink on this trip."

After a long silence, Marissa turned the TV off and walked over to Alan. He was still staring out the window. She put her arms around him. He tried to look away, but she put her hand under his chin and forced him to look at her.

"Alan, I don't think you're pathetic," she said gently. "I think you're still in love."

Over the years, Marissa had done her share of improvised counseling. Mostly she half-listened as men told her that their fathers never loved them, how they obsessed over trying to please their mothers or that they blamed Suzie McDonnell from sixth grade for all their troubles with women because she was cute but would never talk to them.

"Why did you bring me here?" 

There was a long pause. Alan tried to compose himself. His eyes watered. "Our anniversary is coming up . . . and I . . . I didn't want to be alone."

"That's not the only reason." She locked her eyes on his so he couldn't look away. "Why me?"

"I—" Alan looked forlorn. He took in a deep breath. His arms locked around her waist. "We got married here. The first time. Her mom was taking over our wedding so we eloped. It was wonderful. Just the two of us. Our families were really pissed off when we got home, so we had a 'real' wedding in a church, too. But this one was special."

"What is her name?" Marissa asked. She didn't speak of her in the past tense, because for Alan, his bride was still very much in the present.

"Brianne," he whispered. "Brianne Noelle Gibson."

"I look like her." It wasn't a question.

"That's why Laurie sent you to see me," Alan admitted. He looked away. "I . . . I just wanted to . . ."

His voice broke.

Alan started to shake.

Blinking back her own tears, Marissa took Alan's hands as he tried to say the words. "I . . . You don't know what I'd give to have just one more night with her."

Marissa caught Alan as he collapsed into her arms. Heart-wrenching sobs wracked his body. She pulled him close to her bosom, trying to comfort him. Tears flowed unchecked down her own cheeks. The barrier between her and her client was gone, against her better judgment.

She lowered him gently to the floor as he curled up in her arms. His breathing was ragged. Still Marissa held him tenderly. Not as his consort. Not as his lover. As his friend.

Alan sobbed in her arms for several minutes. It sounded like it was the first good cry he had since his wife's death. She ran her hands through his hair gently and tried her best to comfort him.

Finally, Alan sat up and took a deep breath and brushed the tears out of his eyes.

Marissa smiled and squeezed his hands. He struggled to his feet and went into the bathroom. She heard the sink running. 

After a few minutes, Alan came out. He had changed into a t-shirt and a pair of workout shorts. His face was washed.

He sat down on the couch and motioned for Marissa to join him. 

"I'm sorry, Marissa," he said quietly. "I . . . I didn't think that I'd break down on you like this. I really wanted—"

"Alan," she said and he fell silent. "You don't have to be sorry. I can see how much you're still in love with her. She was a lucky woman to have had you in her life."

"Listen," he paused, searching for the words. "I know you didn't sign on for this. Maybe I should have told you about her earlier. I realise this is an awkward situation . . . and I'm sorry for dropping you in the middle of it. If you . . . If you want to leave, I can take you to the airport tomorrow. I'll pay you for the full eight days."

He smiled feebly. She never even considered his offer to pay her for five days of services he wouldn't be using.

"You haven't been with anyone since Brianne died, have you?"

"No," Alan whispered.

"You're feeling guilty that you've enjoyed having sex with me, aren't you?" Marissa observed. It wasn't really a question either.

"Yes," his voice was barely audible. He couldn't bring himself to look at her. "And I—"

He paused again, on the verge of saying something else. Marissa looked at him expectantly.

"And what, Alan?"

This time, he managed to bring his head up. There was sadness in his eyes. "I feel guilty because I like being with you. And not just because of the sex. I like talking with you. I like having dinner with you. I feel like I'm betraying her because I like you so much."

Marissa's jaw fell open. Other clients had told her that they liked her. Often it was followed by a proposition that would basically set her up as their mistress and private whore. The sheer earnestness of Alan's demeanor was terribly unnerving for her. He didn't want her for the sex. He wanted her. 

For years, Marissa had traded her body for money. For her, the most intimate act two people can share was her job. It was work. She had almost come to hate it. She hated the men who patronised her. She hated herself because she was so willing to sell herself for so little.

What Alan did with that one look was sweep aside all her cynicism. She was pretty sure he enjoyed the sex, too, but the way he had treated her over the past three days was so different than how their relationship had started. Even though he was paying her to be with him, he never treated her like a whore. He never acted like she was beneath him.

He treated her like a person.

The tips of her fingers brushed his face. The words were out of her mouth before she knew it. And she meant them, too. "Alan, I like you, too. You're unlike any man I've known for a long, long time."

Alan took her hand and held it. She tried to think of something to say, but the rational side of her took charge and stopped her from saying anything else, at least for a little bit.

Marissa stood up and got Alan's laptop. She plugged it into the wall and then pushed Alan back into the corner of the couch. He had one foot on the floor and one up on the cushions. She sat between his legs, facing away from him, and leaned back so her head rested on his shoulder.

With the flick of the power switch the computer booted up. It was on her lap so they could both see the screen. Alan put his arms around her and she let herself enjoy his embrace.

"Tell me about her," Marissa said.

Alan shifted uncomfortably. "What do you want to know?"

"How long were you married?" she started with the easy questions.

"Eight years," he replied. The desktop finished loading.

"Show me your pictures." At his direction, Marissa clicked to a folder full of picture files. Some had been scanned in, others looked like they had been transferred from a digital camera.

They started with the Vegas wedding. Marissa said nothing as Alan narrated. They stayed up late. Alan wasn't stuck in the past, but it seemed that part of him enjoyed re-living the time when his wife was alive.

Marissa watched his face carefully and got the feeling that he hadn't talked about Brianne in a long, long time. She was struck by how much they looked alike. The two women even had the same cute dimpled cheeks.

In all the pictures, she noticed something in the Alan of the past that was now gone: laughter. He and his wife appeared vibrant and full of joy. The Alan she knew wasn't morose or melancholy, but the twinkle was gone from his eyes. She saw it in the pictures. In the way the two of them held hands. In their looks when they were together.

Alan got quiet when he came to the section of pictures that were taken just before Brianne died. She was pregnant and glowing, at least until the last month and then she looked tired. Not bad tired, just like she wanted the baby to be born so she could walk instead of waddle.

Their smiles never changed, though.

Marissa noticed Alan's hands trembling as he clicked through the pictures, and instinctively knew the slide show was coming to an end. In the final picture, Brianne was very pregnant. They were at the house, sitting at the same table where she and Alan had their first conversation. 

Brianne was wearing sweatpants and a big maternity blouse. Her hair was a mess, but she smiled for Alan's camera anyway.

"This—" he stopped. "This was taken right before we left for the hospital. She had some pain in her stomach, but we didn't think anything of it. I drove her to the hospital and she went into labour . . ."

His voice trailed off. Marissa put her hands over his and squeezed them gently.

"What happened?" she whispered.

"I don't know." Alan's voice broke. "They told me, but it didn't make any sense. It still doesn't make any sense to me. Brianne . . . Brianne and the baby both died in surgery . . ."

His arms closed tight around her. He started to shake again.

Marissa set the computer on the coffee table. Alan took several deep breaths and tried to compose himself.

Sitting up, Marissa pulled Alan to his feet and led him to the bedroom. They left their plates and dinner where they were. With the flip of a switch, the lights went out and the two crawled into bed.

As she lay there with Alan's arms around her, Marissa thought about their relationship. It wasn't just business anymore. She was used to being with men who would boastfully tell her all about themselves, their accomplishments and their conquests. Not once had any of them ever talked about their spouses. Not once did any of them ever tell her how much they loved their wives.

Of course, not many men patronise a call girl because they're still in love with their wife. Still, Alan was different. He missed Brianne dearly, that much was clear. But there was something else about him . . . something Marissa couldn't put her finger on. 

It was like he wanted to get past his wife's death. He needed to get past his wife's death. And he felt guilty for even thinking that it was okay, even two years later.

And then there were her feelings. Why had she allowed herself to become attached to Alan? What was it about him that broke down her emotional barriers?

She ran her fingers along his arm. His hand tensed for a second. He wasn't asleep.

He gently rolled her on to her back and his hand brushed the hair out of her face. Alan's hand absently ran down her neck. His featherlight touch made Marissa's skin crawl—in the good way. His voice was soft. "Sometimes . . . sometimes I talk to her as if she were standing right next to me. I can hear her voice still. I know what she would say to me if she were still alive."

"What would she say? Right now?" Marissa dared to ask.

"She'd tell me to stop feeling sorry for myself." Even in the darkness, Marissa could tell he had a bitter smile on his lips. "And she'd say that therapy would cost me less."

Marissa took his hand in hers. "I wish I had known her."

There was a long pause. 

"When is your anniversary?" she said.

"It would have been Friday," Alan replied.

"You had plans for us, didn't you?"

"Yes," he whispered.

"I'm not her, Alan," Marissa said softly, trying to sort through her confused feelings. "I can never be her to you."

"I know," he replied. "It was wrong of me to expect that from you . . . I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry." Her voice was soothing. "I just don't want your expectations to get out of whack. This is your trip, and I figured there was some reason why you wanted to stay for three days after the conference was over."

He started to say something but Marissa stopped him.

"I know Brianne is very much alive to you. I think it's very romantic that you're still in love with her. She was a lucky woman." They fell silent. Marissa thought hard before speaking again. Two parts of her struggled for control. "Alan, I can't be your wife. I can't fill that hole in your heart."

Part of Marissa wanted to put the emotional wall back up between her and her client. Alan had brought her pleasure, but she was sure that there was no basis for a long-term relationship. After all, no matter what happened between them, she would always be his whore.

Then there was a little voice inside her that tried to make itself heard. It was the empathic part that she suppressed when she was with men. She had spent years bottling it up and making herself calloused and unfeeling. Now it wanted out.

In the darkness, all she could see was his silhouette. She reached out and caressed his face. He seemed so sad. So vulnerable.

"I know you and Brianne were in love. I can see it in your pictures. I hear it in the way you talk about her. I can feel it when we're dancing and you see her in your arms." Marissa took a deep breath. "Let me tell you something, Alan. I like you, too. A lot. And no, I don't say that to all the guys. You're the first man in a long time who has treated me better than I deserve, and I thank you for that. Look . . . I know you think of Brianne sometimes when you're with me. That's okay. I understand, and to tell the truth, I'm a little bit jealous of her."

He turned away, but Marissa's hand brought his lips to hers. She kissed him gently.

"Alan," she whispered. "Love me. Love me like you love her."

There was a moment's hesitation. She imagined that the conflicted emotions inside him were struggling more than those within her.

After what seemed like an eternity, Alan leaned in and kissed her. Hard. Marissa wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. Their embrace was passionate, almost desperate.

Marissa felt Alan push her down on to the bed. He broke their kiss.

"Thank you," he said so softly she could barely hear him.

"For what?"

"For putting up with me. For asking about Brianne," Alan replied. "I haven't talked to anyone about her since the funeral. It felt good to remember her and share her with someone else. Sometimes I'm afraid that I'm going to forget her."

"You won't ever forget her," Marissa reassured him. "But that doesn't mean you have to mourn her for the rest of your life, either."

"I know," he said quietly. It was his turn to take a deep breath. "Look . . . about what I said earlier. If you want to go home, I can take you to the airport first thing in the morning."

Thoughts raced through her mind. 

Take his money and get home to make some more! 

 

Don't fall for him.

 

He's hurting. I can't leave him.

 

No one has treated me this well in years. I can't let him get away.

 

If I stay, he'll only break my heart.

 

Her decision was made in an instant. She quelled the different voices within her, each pulling in a different direction. She was uncomfortable with her decision because it wasn't made with her head. It came from her heart.

"Not a chance," she managed to smile. "Besides, we have a big date Friday night."

"Marissa," he started, and she found that she liked hearing him say her name. "I don't know if—"

She silenced him with a kiss. "Shut up and fuck me."

It took him a minute to reply. When she finally let him up for air, all he said was, "No."

And true to his word, he didn't. Alan and Marissa made love until they fell into an exhausted sleep, wrapped in each other's arms.