IMPERSONATING BRIANNE

THE DINNER DATE

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.

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 c**k 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 c**k beneath her, becoming engorged and excited.

Their lips met again.

Alan rolled her n*****s between his fingers and thrust upwards with his hips. The head of his c**k brushed her labia.

She looked at his face once again in the moonlight. His eyes were still closed. His breathing was shallow.

Taking his c**k in her hand, she guided it to the entrance of her p***y. She was slick and she rubbed him against her c**t 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 c**k 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 c**k was inside her p***y. 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 p***y and her client's c**k, 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 w***e. 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 c**k 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 f*****g 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 c**k brushing the walls of her p***y. 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 c**k 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 c**k inside her.

His fingers pinched her n*****s 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 p***y in just the right spot.

She shuddered with pleasure. Her p***y contracted around him, flooding with her juices.

Marissa felt faint. Waves of carnal bliss washed over her. She could vaguely feel his c**k shooting off inside her.

She could feel his cockhead pulsing. The hypersensitive walls of her p***y 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?"