The butterfly and the tattoo artist.

I remember his special request and the fact that it is already prepared, and smile secretly to myself. I walk past reception, acknowledge our beautiful manageress with a confident toss of my blonde hair as she smiles at me, and approach my first client for the evening.

He sits comfortably in the over-size maroon couch that faces the large flat-screen television, not really watching the music video of that 80s Australian rock band that sings the song about calling whales or something. At Le Penthouse Suite, the most elite bordello on the Gold Coast, we cater to the tastes of all individuals, that includes playing an eclectic mix of music on the flat screen television.

My client doesn’t look like a tattoo artist. He wears a light blue business shirt, and grey slacks, with brown leather shoes. I do notice the end of a tattoo sleeve that is exposed at the end of his long shirt sleeve, which is buttoned to the wrist. I only notice this on his right arm, because his left wrist has a thick gold watch on it. Maybe he has two tattoo sleeves? I’ll soon find out.

He rises from the couch, smiles politely and says, “Callie, I’m pleased to meet you.’ Then he pecks me gently on the cheek, and I grab hold of his hand, and guide him to our bedroom for our rendezvous. I can feel him smiling behind me as we ascend the stair case, his hand still in mine, my other hand and arm holding the fresh linen for the king-sized double bed in the room upstairs.

I look back over my shoulder, and yes, he is smiling, but his eyes are roaming all over my body, obviously checking out my ass cheeks that I know turn him on, as I sway my hips. Sexy butt cheeks exposed in the white, transparent G-string I’m wearing; my brunette hair cascading down my slender back. Beach babe, beach beauty, some clients tell me in the throes of love-making. I like to acknowledge that I’m a first-class escort here at Gold Coast Le Penthouse Suite, but don’t often think about how attractive my clients tell me I am.

As I finish making the bed, my client says from behind me, “Where is it?” I giggle a little, and say innocently, “I don’t know what you mean?” He is fully naked and his throbbing shaft is pulsing, and his breathing gets a little quicker, as he moves towards me, smiling. He does have two tattoo shirt sleeves, plus intricate patterns and designs across his lean chest. If he shaves his thick blonde hair, then he’ll look like a tattoo artist, I think this as he circles his arms around me and kisses me deeply on the lips. “Where is it?” I don’t say anything. “Let me find it.” He pushes me back on to the bed and lifts up my white lace brassiere, exposing my full, young breasts. He starts kissing them and sucking the nipples, but I don’t know if he is looking for it, his special request.

Moves his face down my torso, kissing me as he proceeds to my tight pussy. He kisses the insides of my thighs first, then he starts sucking my sex. He sucks the pussy lips, and makes tongue circles around my clit until I moan with pleasure. After endless moments of this, he turns me over, and positions me on my hands and knees, and starts eating my pussy from behind, and I moan again in pleasure.

I sense his urgency as his grasping hands grow tighter on my ass cheeks and then I feel him move into position behind me, and I remember to find a condom. I turn around and stop him with a gentle push. “Hang on lover boy.”

I fit the condom over his long shaft with my mouth, sucking it hard onto the length, and then start sucking deep, as he pulls my head onto his erection. His hands are clasping my head, messing up my golden locks of hair. I gag as he thrusts his shaft a little deeper, and he moans deeply in response. I think he might orgasm then and there, but he mumbles, “Where is it?” And I remember his request, but he is really just babbling now, because he pulls his shaft out of my mouth, pushes me on to my back, positions his erection against my pussy and plunges his manhood into my tight wet pussy.

His thrusts are hard and long, and I know he is looking for my sex centre, looking for my G-spot. So, I make it a little easier for him, and twist my waist a little, letting him find my G-spot. And now I am riding a little pleasure wave, and I’m moaning as he gasps, and starts thrusting faster, and faster. He pounds me deep and deeper, and his hands are grabbing my waist and he is lifting my hips and pulling my sex onto his erection. And he starts moaning now as well, and the sound of lust grows louder and more aggressive, and his pounding is hard and deep, and then he stabs his shaft so deep into my pussy in three powerful thrusts and I feel him orgasm, and I release my own climax, a flood of sex juice escaping my pussy, making his manhood glisten as he pulls it out.

“Where is it?” He faces me as we lie together on the bed.

I lift up my arm, and he moves closer and kisses the smooth skin of my underarm, and he smiles, “A butterfly of course.” The transferrable tattoo was what this client was looking for. It was a kind of guessing game he wanted to play. But I guess he got what he wanted.