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Sunday evening, August 1

Allison was dressed and groomed for the occasion -- her blond pubic hair was neatly trimmed into a pretty shape. Every other hair was in place, too, and there wasn't a trace of the reformed, slightly odd-looking, Birkenstocked Allison of the last few weeks. She looked great -- like the Allison I used to work with. Used to work with?

My tongue flicked lightly over the outer lips of Allison's pussy, yet I still wasn't sure whether I was working on her or with her.

Roger was rubbing his hard-on against her right breast, calling her "Amy" -- and urging me to "get Amy nice and wet." Curiosity was driving me crazy: If she's Roger's new girlfriend, she must have been living in London when she claimed to have been in Massachusetts with Zack. Was Zack a figment of her imagination? (I've never met the guy.) Maybe Roger has installed her in a fabulous new apartment and Allison's made up this whole story about sleeping on Janelle's couch. But why lie to me?

Nancy Chan: Diary of a Manhattan Call Girl appears in Health & Body every Monday and Thursday. + About Nancy Chan: Diary of a Manhattan Call Girl -- with links to all chapters to date. + Read the Diary from the start.

Against my will, I was getting turned on by all these intriguing thoughts. But, even if she had morphed into some rich guy's mistress, she was still just Allison to me -- a working girl, not a customer. I wasn't about to lick her clit unless I absolutely had to, since Allison and I have always preferred to fake it when we worked together in the past.

Only when Roger got close enough to examine my handiwork did I start applying the tip of my tongue to Allison's clit. Her slutty sound effects were almost too hot to be real but the sweet reassuring taste of K-Y was the giveaway. Wives and girlfriends don't prep themselves beforehand with lube. Nor do hookers, when they expect to be authentically aroused. Allison's professional motor was humming.

She moaned so loudly that I thought my dildo had accidentally slipped inside of her. Of course it hadn't -- and Roger was too turned on to do a "reality" check.

Allison reached up to fondle my breasts while thrusting against the outside of the dildo. She gave my nipple a gentle, playful pinch. Unable to contain himself, Roger came rather noisily on the side of Allison's neck -- while Allie kept moaning, "Come on my face ... oh, God, come on my face!" But she was careful to time her thrashing so that her face was turned well away from the scene of the explosion.

Spent and pleased, Roger wandered downstairs to refresh our drinks.

"What the hell is going on here?" I asked her. "He says you're his girlfriend!"

Next page | Would Allison really do that?