It was still early in the evening, and I was quite hungry. I decided to get dressed and go out for dinner. After a quick shower, I slipped on the black lace thong and bra, along with a pair of matching silk thigh-highs. Wanting to show off my legs, I chose the slinky dress and stiletto heels that Sara had sold me earlier. As the dress slid down over my body, I studied my look in the full-length mirror. The dress was light grey and shorter than anything I'd ever worn. It barely covered the top hems of my stockings. I was sure when I sat, they would be exposed, if not some of the creamy flesh above.

I decided that if I was going to dress like a whore I might as well go the whole way. I took the dress off and removed the bra. The material slid over my nipples, and they instantly became erect. I applied a light green eye shadow and red lip gloss. The combination made my eyes sparkle, and I looked very sexy as I viewed my image in the mirror.

I was anxious to see the reaction of the men I'd come in contact with, so I grabbed my small handbag and headed for the elevator.

As the doors guided open and I stepped into the hotel lobby, an elderly couple was walking toward me. Their reaction to my appearance told me that I accomplished exactly what I wanted. The woman looked at me like I was a high-priced call girl, while her husband looked at me like he'd be willing to pay any price to fuck me. I smiled at them as I walked past and headed for the street.

The doorman smiled widely as I approached.

"Evening, Miss, will you need a cab tonight?" he questioned.

I grinned at him and answered, "No, thank you. It's a beautiful evening. I think I'll walk."

"Well, be careful, Miss; we wouldn't want you meeting with any of our unsavory characters tonight,” he offered.

I smiled and said, "Only if I get lucky!"

As I strolled down the street, the light breeze blew my hair back over my shoulders, exposing my erect nipples to anyone who wanted to look. I stepped with a slight bounce which caused my tits to jiggle as I walked.

I wanted to be noticed. I wanted men to look at me like I was a slinky, long-haired sexual toy. The feeling excited me, as did the looks I was getting as I walked down the street. I thought, Gen, you'd make one hell of a high-priced call girl. Men might be willing to pay quite a lot for a night of sex with you. I decided to experiment and see just how much they would offer.  I’ve written an erotic story or two about women who work in the sex for cash business. But the ladies in my stories were more trashy than classy, so I would have to play my role from what, in my mind, a high price call girl should act like.

Finding a restaurant with a lounge, I walked inside and slid onto a bar stool. I crossed my legs and pulled the hem of my dress down so that only a sliver of dark silk at the top of my stockings was exposed.

The place was not very full; only a few couples were seated at the bar, waiting for their tables to open in the dining room. The bartender was a woman about my age, I'd guess. She was shapely with full breasts, hips that flared, and short blonde hair. Her black slacks fit snuggly over her ass. The white silk blouse she wore under a tight-fitting vest was open, revealing very succulent cleavage. Her blue eyes were set off nicely by her short blonde hairstyle. She dressed to maximize her tips as a bartender.

"What'll you have?" she asked as she walked toward me.

"White wine, please," I replied.

As she brought me my wine, she asked, "Will you be dining tonight, Miss?"

"Perhaps in a little while," I said, wanting to keep my options open.

I took a sip of wine and looked around the lounge. All the men were with women. I wondered if I'd picked the wrong lounge to try my experiment. Just as I was about to give up, a handsome fifty-something man entered the lounge. His salt and pepper hair was very stylish, and he wore an expensive-looking suit, a white shirt, and a colorful necktie. He slid onto a stool to my right at the corner of the bar. From where he was sitting, he could look along the bar and see my legs perfectly.

The bartender approached him and said, "You're usual Kevin?"

Kevin replied, "Yes, please, Lauren."

I mentally noted their names and watched Lauren mix Kevin's drink. I've never been much of a drinker, but even with my limited knowledge of mixology, I could tell Kevin liked his cocktails strong since I didn't see Lauren add any non-alcoholic mixer to his glass.

She smiled as she approached him with his cocktail. I could see him whispering something to her, and she acknowledged his remark by grinning and shaking her head positively.

Lauren turned from Kevin and walked to where I was seated.

"The gentleman would like to buy you a drink, Miss,” she said.

I smiled and said, "That would be wonderful. Thank you, Lauren."

Rather than just turning my head toward him, I turned my hips and let him have a good look at my long silk-covered legs as I said, "Thank you very much." Smiling seductively as I spoke.

Kevin returned my smile with one of his own. His face lit up when he smiled. I was intrigued by how handsome he looked and was more than a little attracted to his good looks. As Lauren placed my drink in front of me, I lifted the glass to toast the sexy man who'd bought it for me.

"Join me?" I suggested.

He wasted no time changing from the stool at the end of the bar to the one next to me. As he slid between me and the stool, his hand brushed against my knee, and as he sat down, his leg slid along my shin, sending a shiver of excitement up my spine.

He smiled and extended his hand, "I'm Kevin; nice to meet you,” he said.

"Wonderful to meet you, Kevin; I'm Genevieve," I replied.

"What a beautiful name for such a beautiful lady," Kevin remarked.

I felt the warmth of a blush on my cheeks.

Smiling at him, I touched his leg and said, "Thank you, kind sir."

His thigh felt very muscular, and I let my hand linger there for a moment, enjoying his reaction to my caress.

Kevin looked down at my hand resting on his thigh, or perhaps he was looking down at the silk-covered thigh that was seductively exposed below the short hemline of my dress. In either case, what he saw brought a smile to his lips.

"I've not seen you here before,” he said.

"I've never been here before," I responded.

"So, what brings you to my little watering hole, Genevieve?" Kevin asked.

"This is your place?" I asked.

He laughed and said, "No, but I have spent enough cash here to own it."

I smiled and asked him, "So, what line of work are you in?"

"I'm an investment counselor," Kevin responded. "How about you, Genevieve? Besides looking incredible, what do you do?"

"Thank you for the kind compliment, Kevin," I said, avoiding his question about my line of work. I wanted him to think I was a high-priced call girl, so I questioned him in a way that would lead our conversation in that direction.

"So, do you charge by the hour like an attorney for your services?" I asked.

Kevin smiled and said, "No, I work strictly on commission."

I grinned at him as he asked, "Do you charge by the hour?”

I again slid my hand to his thigh and, this time, gave him a gentle squeeze before I said, "Oh no, an hour is never long enough."

Kevin turned more toward me and leaned close to my ear.

"So, Genevieve, if I wanted to use your services until tomorrow morning, what would it cost me?" he whispered.

Playing along with him, I said, "How much would you be willing to give me?"

He leaned against the back of his stool and said, "Are you a cop, Genevieve?"

I laughed out loud and replied, "Of course not! And I'm not what you think I am either.”

He got a very puzzled look on his face before he said, "You're not a hooker?"

I laughed again and said, "No, I'm a doctor of English Literature."

He blushed noticeably and said, "Oh my god, Genevieve, I'm so sorry!"

I had accomplished exactly what I wanted. Kevin had taken me for a high-priced whore. Now, it was time to move in for the kill.

"Kevin, I wanted you to think I was a whore." I said.

He looked even more puzzled and said, "Why would you want me to think that?"

I leaned close to his ear and whispered, "Because later tonight, I want you to use me like I'm your whore."

His puzzled expression turned instantly to one of pure lust. It was as if his ears were lying to his brain. I'd just told him I wanted to be treated like his whore, and I was sure his mind was racing with images of what the night held for him.

I lifted my leg and ran my stiletto along his leg. As he glanced down, the hem of my dress slid up, exposing not only the lacy top of my silk stocking but also a few inches of creamy white skin. He smiled and placed his hand on my thigh. He moved it slowly toward the exposed flesh until his fingertips touched my skin. A shiver of excitement ran up my spine, and my nipples hardened noticeably. Kevin lifted his hand and moved it up, allowing the back to barely brush against my erect nipple through the material of my dress. His hand lifted my hair, slid it behind my shoulder, and circled behind my neck. He pulled my head toward his face. Tilting his head, our lips touched, and another chill raced through my body. His tongue parted my lips and searched for mine; his kiss was sensual, firm, and very passionate. I knew in an instant he was going to be an incredible lover.

Kevin broke our kiss to say, "I haven't eaten yet, Genevieve. Will you do me the honor of joining me for dinner?"

I smiled at him and replied, "It would be my pleasure, Sir."

He smiled, then turned to Lauren, saying, "We'll be dining together, Lauren."

Lauren replied, "Excellent, Mr. Cabot; I’ll let the waitress know you're ready for your table."

Kevin reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a money clip. There were too many hundred-dollar bills showing to count as he thumbed through the bills, stopping at the first fifty-dollar bill. He pulled it from the stack and laid it on the bar.

"That's you, Lauren,” he said.

Obviously, being an investment advisor was quite lucrative. He could have paid any amount I'd asked for if I had chosen to continue with my charade as a high-priced hooker.

Kevin stood and slid his bar stool back a few inches as he offered me his strong hand. I gladly accepted it and made sure as I slid off my stool, I exposed even more creamy thigh flesh to his view. Releasing my hand, he slid his behind me and let it rest on the small of my back.

As he escorted me toward a small doorway to the dining room, he said, "This way, Genevieve."

His hand was resting on the small triangle of material of my thong at the top of my butt, and he smiled as he realized what he was feeling.

As we entered the dining room, the waitress said, "Good Evening, Mr. Cabot, your usual table tonight?"

Kevin replied, "Yes, that will be fine, Sarah."

He seemed to be on a first-name basis with everyone in the place and commanded their first-class attention. I assumed part of their attention was due to Kevin's generous tips.

We were shown to a small table in one corner of the room. He helped me with my seat, letting his hand linger on my back as I sat down.

I quickly became comfortable with his touch and couldn’t wait for those touches to become more intimate.

Kevin sat directly to my left rather than across the table from me. I was glad he did because we could touch each other more freely.

He must have been intrigued by my early comment about him using me like his whore. Our conversation returned to that topic almost immediately.

"Genevieve, can I ask you a question?" He said.

I turned slightly toward him and said, "Sure, Kevin, ask me anything."

"Why is it that a doctor of English Literature would tell a man she'd just met that she wanted him to use her like a whore?" he asked.

I grinned and replied, "Teaching English Lit is sometimes boring, Kevin. I come to New York often, but this trip, I made a conscious decision to spice my weekend up somewhat."

"I understand, Genevieve." He said.

"Kevin, you can call me Gen if you'd like," I said.

"Actually, I love the sound of Genevieve. It adds a certain flare to the role of being a high-priced whore don't you agree?" he asked.

"I suppose it does," I replied.

He slid his hand over mine and looked directly into my eyes.

"Do you have any idea just how an expensive hooker is supposed to act?" He asked.

"Not really," I responded. "But I hope you will teach me."

He grinned at me before he said, "I'll do my best, Genevieve; let's start your training right now."

He lifted my hand and moved it under the tablecloth, placing it palm down on his thigh.

"Stoke my leg, Genevieve," he said.

I slowly began massaging his thigh with my delicate fingers; each time I moved my hand up, I ventured a little higher.

"That feels very nice,”

he said. "Now go higher."

"Here in public?" I asked.

"A whore could care less if someone saw her stroking her john's cock babe. This is Manhattan, remember,” he said.

I figured the tablecloth would hide my hand but do little to conceal the fact that my arm was under the table. But I followed Kevin's instructions and moved my hand between his legs.

My fingers found the growing bulge under his slacks near the base of his cock. I slowly moved them up along its length. It felt huge, longer than any I'd ever touched before. As I reached the top, it curved over his leg, resting in the crease between his thigh and abdomen.

"God, Kevin, how long is it!" I asked.

He grinned at me and offered, "Eleven inches when completely hard, and it curves like a banana."

"Oh my," I said, startled at his estimate of its size.

"An experienced whore would be able to take every inch in any hole, too," he added.

I looked at him wide-eyed as I asked, "Any hole?"

"Of course, if a john is paying the kind of money you expect, he should be able to fuck you in any way he wants,” he said.

I wondered if I had gotten in too deep with him, but I wasn't about to back out now.

He moaned softly as my hand stroked up and down on his hard erection.

"Let's eat light, Genevieve. I can hardly wait for you to stroke me skin to skin," he said.

Kevin removed my hand just as our waitress approached to take our order.

"Two house salads and a small antipasti," Kevin said, ordering for us both.

As she walked away, Kevin returned to our erotic conversation.

"Do you think you can take it all in your mouth, Genevieve?" he asked.

"I'm not sure, but I'll try my best," I replied.

"Good," he answered. "I love when my whores deep throat my cock."

Oh, Christ, I thought. I was in too deep. I knew that I'd never get eleven inches in my mouth without having it part way down my throat. I'd never done that before. And I could almost feel the pain of having an eleven-inch cock stuffed in my ass already. Another sex act I'd never done before.

"You will take it slow with me, right, Kevin?" I pleaded.

"Why Genevieve, you're an experienced whore aren't you?" He teased. "Or was that just an act?"

I smiled at him, hoping he was kidding, but fearful that he was going to hold me to my challenge to use me like a whore. I assumed time would tell.

Our meal arrived, and Kevin dug in like a man possessed. His salad was gone, and he ate his antipasti in less than ten minutes.

"Come on, Genevieve, eat up times a wasting!" he exclaimed.

I decided why put off the inevitable and said, "I'm finished.”

He smiled and said, "Saving room for dessert?"

"Oh, we're having dessert?" I said naively.

"You're having my cock for dessert Genevieve,” he said, laughing.

I could feel my cheeks blush as I realized how naïve my statement about dessert was.

Kevin motioned for the waitress, and as she approached, he again took out his money clip and slipped her a hundred-dollar bill.

"Thanks, Sarah, we're not too hungry tonight." he offered.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Cabot," she replied.

Kevin stood and offered me his hand once again. His erection was still clearly visible in the front of his slacks.

In a moment, we were on the sidewalk. He looked me over and said, "You look like one hell of a fuck. I hope you're as good as you look."

Wanting to keep in character, I responded, "I'm worth every penny, darlin'.”

"Do you have a hotel room? Or would you like to go to my place?" he asked.

I wasn't sure I wanted to trust him to take me to his place, so I said, "We'll go to my hotel."

"Good, I'll drive." Kevin offered. "My car is just around the corner."

We walked the short distance to his car, which, of course, was an "S" class black Mercedes Benz.

Kevin opened the door and watched me as I slid into the soft, beige leather seat. I gave him a perfect look at my legs, letting my dress slide up, exposing not only my creamy thighs above my stockings but the triangle of black lace that covered my pussy.

He smiled his approval at my exhibitionist flare. As he walked around to the driver's door, I crossed my legs and pulled the hem of my dress up so that my stockings were completely exposed. I wanted to act like the whore I'd tried to pass myself off as earlier.

As Kevin started the car, he looked at me and asked, "Do you let your tricks eat your pussy?"

"Of course, I do, Kevin, and you can lick my ass if you'd like," I said, finding it easier to talk like a whore, as we got deeper into our charade.

I became increasingly excited about what I supposed would happen once he had me alone. My nipples were taut, and my pussy moist. My body tingled with anticipation of the experience I was about to have.

The Manhattan nightlife was in full swing as we returned to my hotel. Flashing lights and countless people were on the streets. Everywhere I looked, people were trying to make a buck or spend their leisure cash. I wondered how many high-priced whores were already pleasing their johns and if I'd be able to please Kevin the way they pleased their tricks?