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Jen is a maid but doesn't intend to stay one forever. The women she sees with good-looking rich guys can't do anything she can't, and she figures she might be willing to do more than some will. All she needs is the right opportunity and the right guy... and her passkey. When Terry shows up, he has women around him, and he likes to keep them competing for his attention. He's the rich man, the piper, and Jen is happy to dance to whatever tune he plays to live that life.~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~"You, Jen, are a Gold Digger," he said.I looked at him and didn't say anything. I needed to know where he was going with that thought. It was true, but...He grinned. "I know. That term is usually used to mean something rotten and cheap, but all it really means is that you are applying yourself to the goal of marrying or at least being with, a partner of means--because he has money. You just met me and the only reasonable attraction I hold for you, other than perhaps physical, is my money.""Perhaps physical?" I laughed. "Modesty isn't your thing. But it's true enough that money is often a factor in any relationship."He nodded. "The difference between a financial concern and your approach is that you are playing the game deliberately, not just dealing with it to decide among suitors. Money is more important to you than some other things. And that's fine, as long as you are good at it the game and understand it.""It seems pretty simple, preferring wealth to poverty.""It's rather intelligent. I have no objection to an honest gold diggerthe real deal because for a woman to pull that off she needs to be more than a hot slut," Terry said. "Hot sluts are, in the scheme of things, cheap. A Gold Digger has to be able to hold her own in the circles her man travels in. For me, that's this hotel business. And a Gold Digger could prove herself useful.""So your ideal Gold Digger needs to be whatever you need at the time able to make charming conversation, and look sexy enough so other men are jealous?""That's the basic idea, except that she needs to make women jealous as well. And if she works out, she can learn to do a lot more than that. I'm telling you this because I like you and I think you have potential. I'm willing to let you have a chance to prove you are this real deal.""I'm game."He nodded. "Good. Tonight I have a dinner appointment. I want you to go with me. If things work out well then I'll have a chance to see you plying both aspects of your tradethe charming escort and deliciously wild whore. Most women can do both to some extentthe challenge is to find the point when you need to switch from one role to the other.""When you tell me to, right?""It seems pretty s
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Copyright © 2016 Blair Erotica
All Rights Reserved
Blair Erotica Books
This is a work of fiction intended for adults; the people are not actual people but they act like them and a reader would be forgiven for thinking that they were real people. The places are fictional but the author has been in places quite similar. Finally, the story contains graphic depictions of sexual acts among consenting adults over 18, and is not suitable for children or those who find sex offensive.
Working at a fancy beach resort I see rich people come and go all the time. I'm envious of what they have—mostly the freedom to travel and be waited on by people like me. I was envious, and intent to do something about the situation.
Some of them don't seem to enjoy their advantage as much as you'd expect, but Terry Prescott did. He was a gorgeous young man, with longish blond hair and piercing blue eyes. Unlike some rich people he apparently worked out.
He dressed well, ate well and, between his money and good looks, always had a sexy woman on his arm and in his bed. I cleaned his room and I know he never spent a night alone. Some of the women weren't all that special but they had nice clothes, jewelry, and their hair and makeup flattered them.
I work as a maid and I had been cleaning the gym. As I finished and came into the hallway, the path was blocked by the exciting, heart-throbbing figure of Terry. He had his back to a wall and his hands on his hips. His pants were unzipped and a lithe black woman was on her knees sucking his cock. I'd seen her arrive with another man, supposedly her husband. As she bobbed her head, her cornrows flicked. He reached down to touch her cheek softly. "Fuck yes, Racine. You are a great cock sucker. I'm coming."
She gobbled him, swallowing his cum. She saw me out of the corner of her eye and licked her lips, smiling as Terry put his cock back in his pants. Then she stood slowly and leaned against him. "We have company."
Terry looked at me curiously, then slipped his hand under the girl's dress, pulling it up as he caressed her ass. She was bare assed. He took his room card out of his pocket and held it out to me. "Would you open the door for us?"
I took it. His fingers burned against mine. I turned and opened the door, which was right there. He smiled, took the card back and escorted the woman into the room.
As the door closed behind them, I formed a plan. I knew I could please him, I could be beside that man if I had a chance to show him. But a girl like me didn't seem to have a chance. How could you catch the eye of a man like that when he was surrounded by willing, sexy women? I was sick to death of being poor, of working as a maid, but with no education to speak of, and no money it was hard to make a change. I was willing to do a lot of things to change my situation and I figured I could suck his cock as well as that black woman.
"Only date rich men," my mother said. "A rich cock tastes the same as a poor one." That made sense to me even though I seriously doubted my mother had ever tasted a rich cock.
Terry Prescott was a choice candidate. He was staying a few days, which helped.
The best thing, the only thing I could do was make sure I took advantage of every opportunity to run into rich men. My assets might catch their attention. I've got red hair that hangs to my shoulders, nice tits, and slender hips. If I got them to notice that much, my willingness to please would take over.
I did have one other resource: a passkey could make encounters possible—I intended to make them inevitable.
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