Strangers for the Night (For The Night #1)

  Strangers for the Night

  C.J. Fallowfield

  Kindle Edition

  Version 1E

  ASIN: B00NF30P4U

  Copyright © 2014 C. J. Fallowfield

  All Rights Reserved Worldwide

  Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations and places or events, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Image Copyright © 2014

  Edited by Ella Marie

  Cover Art by Kellie Dennis at Book Cover by Design

  http://www.bookcoverbydesign.co.uk

  Foreword

  Written as standalone quick, hot reads, For the Night novella’s are told in alternating points of view of Logan Steele, and his client, or clients.

  However, in order to fully enjoy Logan’s development they should be read in the sequence that they are released.

  For more information on upcoming titles in the series and release dates, please see my social media links:

  http://www.cjfallowfield.co.uk

  https://www.facebook.com/cjfallowfield

  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7807992.C_J_Fallowfield

  Chapters

  Prologue

  Logan Steele

  Camilla Domville

  The Bar

  The Elevator

  The Lounge

  The Bedroom

  The Bathroom

  The Camera

  The Hot Tub

  Client Evaluation

  Other Titles by C.J. Fallowfield

  Prologue

  My name is Logan Steele. I’m devilishly handsome, seriously ripped, well hung, charismatic and highly sexed. Women just can’t resist me. So when I lost my job in the construction industry and was struggling for cash, I decided to put my assets to good use.

  By day I’m a private personal fitness trainer. By night I’m a high class gigolo.

  I don’t advertise my sexual services anymore, I have a long client list that come to me through word of mouth. I’m that good I’m booked months in advance. Scores of women pay me extortionately high fees to fulfil their fantasies. And for the most part I do. I have a strict set of rules that I abide by, which are provided in the full contract that you’ll receive along with the booking form, if accepted. I’ve bullet pointed an abridged version below, just so you’re clear before you send me an email request:

  Rules my clients must comply with are:

  I must see a picture in advance.

  I can decline the booking request without explanation.

  I can only be booked for the night.

  All sexual acts must be consensual.

  I will provide you with a report to complete, then I will choose the setting for our meeting based on your scenario.

  I am flown first class or by private jet if I am required to work abroad.

  In the event of the above, I will provide my dietary requirements in advance.

  I will perform a full background check.

  I base my variable charge on the scenario being requested.

  “No” rules that I stipulate are:

  No bareback.

  No minors.

  No physical violence.

  Nothing illegal.

  No form of emotional attachment during or after the event. I am merely performing a sexual or companion service.

  No contact after the event, unless it is for a new booking.

  And my absolute number one rule, without exception is:

  Full payment up front which, is non- refundable.

  There is no requirement for a refund clause, I never fail to perform.

  So, now you are aware of my rules for the night and are about to contact me, all that remains to be asked is “Who do you want me to be?”

  Logan Steele

  I handed my overnight case and suit hanger to the steward on the luxury private jet that was taking me to New York for the night, to meet Camilla Domville, heiress to the Domville chain of six star hotels scattered across the globe. I was used to the finer things in life, my clients were women of means, but Camilla appeared to be in a league of her own and didn’t understand the meaning of the word “restraint.” She’d sent a six bedroom jet to fly me from London to New York. Just me. And the crew of course, who treated me like royalty. I settled back in one of the soft white chairs, made from eel skin, and was automatically offered a bottle of Cristal. I politely declined. I didn’t drink on the job, it impaired my ability to keep Logan the gigolo separate from my own persona. I was more than comfortable making small talk, but I never divulged any personal information to my clients. Add in the fact that the sugar levels in alcohol would play havoc with my physique, water was a far safer option all around. I nodded my agreement to smoked salmon and caviar blini’s as a canapé, along with some hot roasted nuts.

  ‘Sir has requested a goat’s cheese salad with pear and walnuts with a balsamic glaze, followed by Pasta Genovese with grilled chicken and a “spotted dick” for dessert without the custard.’ I struggled to contain my laughter at the look of distaste on the steward’s face as he stated my choice of pudding. A stodgy suet pudding full of raisins and dried fruit, it was one of my favourites from childhood. Plus it was full of carbohydrates and natural sugars, all helpful given the amount of calories I was planning on burning off with Miss Domville this evening.

  ‘Excellent, thank you. With regards to my water, I’d prefer still to sparkling, a slice of lime, not lemon, and hold the ice.’

  ‘Certainly, Sir. Your belongings have been taken to your room. If you can please secure your seat belt we are ready to depart. The flight is expected to be approximately seven hours, dinner will be served at seven o’clock UK time and we expect to land at midnight, which will be seven p.m. New York time, as requested.’

  ‘Perfect, thank you,’ I nodded. I checked my watch, it was a little after five in the afternoon. I’d have plenty of time to relax, eat, and maybe fit in some exercise before taking a nap and then freshening up, so when I arrived I was ready for action. As the plane began to taxi out onto the runway, I sat back in my chair and checked my schedule for the months ahead with my clients. My finger automatically opened the file on Summer Beresford, my next client. She was twenty-two, almost my youngest client yet, with the exception of Camilla who was a year younger. Women with the sorts of sums required for my services tended to be older, usually married to wealth, or they were leaders in their field of expertise, having clawed their way to the top and earned their money, or, as in Camilla’s case, were heiresses to Daddy’s fortune. Summer stood out from the rest, for a number of reasons. She was a natural beauty, not stunning like many of the women who paid me, but a classic English rose. She had porcelain clear skin, pink cheeks, bright blue eyes, full lips and full chestnut hair, that hung well below her shoulders.

  I was attracted to all of my clients, unless my cock twitched on sight of their photograph I wouldn’t have even considered taking the booking. I’d be a pretty poor fucking gigolo if I couldn’t get it up, so the photos were essential to ensure I never failed on my “no refunds offered” clause. While I always selected potential candidates based on sexual attraction, there was something about Summer that made my pulse spike that little bit more. On top of that, she didn�
��t appear to have money. My best friend, Oliver Davenport, had hooked me up with his own personal investigator, Ian Smith. As soon as a booking request with photograph came in, Ian would perform full background checks on them. I wanted assurances that they had the means to pay and that if they were seeing someone, or married, it wasn’t to a mobster who was likely to put me in concrete boots if he found out what I’d been doing with his wife.

  Summer was an unknown actress, who’d only had a few walk on parts in television, but had just landed the lead role in a film version of a popular erotic romance novel. She was currently single and living with her parents in London, my own home town. I was intrigued to know what scenario she’d want me to fulfil and had sent her my standard report to complete, in order for me to put together a quote if I decided to take the booking. Her request had been simple, for us to meet in a hotel room and for me to treat her as if she were a virgin and make love to her and pretend to teach her all there was to know about sex. That was it, the rest of the brief was left up to me. My curiosity with her had been peaked. Usually women who booked me wanted me to be dominant, controlling, aggressive and forceful, not soft and gentle. I’d typically have refused the booking had it been anyone else, I didn’t do tender fucks, but I couldn’t stop opening her file and looking at her photograph, so with my obvious interest in her, I’d accepted. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, there was definitely no lack of attraction on my part, I’d sprung a fucking erection at the thought of looking at her photograph, before I’d even re-opened her file. I sighed and closed it and opened the current one for Camilla, to re-read her report and familiarise myself with tonight’s scenario.

  Personal Attire

  You will be dressed in a dark grey suit, black brogues, black dress socks and a white shirt, unbuttoned at the neck. You will wear no jewellery and no deodorant, but you will apply Black Orchid cologne by Tom Ford. Clean shaven, no body hair but for the underarms, legs and arms.

  I winced internally as the memory of that fresh back, sac and crack came back to me. I preferred manscaping, but they never got any less painful.

  Scenario

  Two hot strangers meet in a bar and you take her to your room to fuck her brains out.

  I nodded as I read and memorised the stipulations for where the sex would take place, along with an appendices showing a floor plan of the $30,000 per night penthouse suite. Camilla wanted it to feel as if I were an affluent businessman who could afford to stay there and knew my way around it. I read on.

  You will be masterful, sexually aggressive, raw and passionate and make me feel like you can’t get enough of me, that I’m the sexiest women you’ve ever fucked.

  I chuckled at the request that I attempt to perform for all four locations she had detailed, in priority order, “If that wasn’t too much?” she’d written. O Camilla, you have no idea how many times I’m capable of fucking your brains out in one evening, or how hard I fuck. You’ll be begging me to stop and asking for a break even before we get to the fourth request, I thought with a smile.

  Camilla Domville

  I lay face down on my bed, kicking my heels up behind me as I chewed on my pen and stared at my text books. Rhianna was blaring from my iPhone doc behind me, singing about rude boys and I smirked at the thought of the boy somewhere over the Atlantic on his way to fuck me. Boy was an understatement from the black and white photograph that had been provided with booking form. Logan Steele was all man, at twenty-eight, all seriously buffed to perfection and his reputation in the sack was legendary. I was sick of the college boys I’d been sleeping with, they were too interested in my money, not me, and rarely gave me the good pounding I’d been dreaming of. I had to uphold somewhat of a conventional appearance, given Daddy’s status, which meant no one-night stands, lengthy dating with Daddy’s approval before I had sex, blah, blah bloody blah. I chuckled, in fact daddy still thought his precious little princess was a virgin. All the more reason for going to Logan to fulfil my fantasy, discretion was of paramount importance. The thought of meeting a random stranger, in one of his hotels no less, and being fucked senseless was intoxicating. I’d been dreaming of it since I lost my virginity, far too gently when I was fifteen.

  ‘Camilla,’ roared Daddy’s voice. I looked around startled as he strode across my room and turned off my music.

  ‘Daddy!’ I protested.

  ‘What the hell’s going on?’ he demanded with his hands on his hips as he towered over me as I sat on my bed.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You know the Sheikh is my best client, well he tried to book the Domville signature suite tonight and was told that it’s been reserved for you.’

  ‘I told you I needed it, Daddy. It’s my one of my birthday treats remember? I’m having the girls over for a sleep over.’

  ‘You couldn’t do it in the damn house? We have fifteen en-suite bedrooms,’ he sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. ‘It’s as good as a hotel.’

  ‘But I promised them,’ I whined, with a well-practiced pout and watery eyes. I needed to flatter his ego too. ‘Please don’t make me cancel, they’re all so excited to see how Mr. Domville made his billions with the flagship hotel, and to stay in the signature suite … it’s legendary.’

  ‘Camilla, he’s the VIP of VIP’s.’

  ‘More important than your own daughter, than her birthday treat?’ I let a few tears trickle down my face and he exhaled heavily and sat on the bed next to me and smoothed my hair.

  ‘O don’t cry, princess. Of course no one’s more important than you, I’ll put him in the smaller presidential suite. I’m sure he’ll understand when I explain.’

  ‘O Daddy, thank you,’ I smiled and flung my arms around his neck, rejoicing on the inside.

  ‘Who’s coming? Can I trust them in there? It’s not just my most expensively furnished and decorated room, it’s my most treasured possession having her party.’

  ‘Daddy,’ I let him go and rolled my eyes as I smiled. I loved that he adored me so much. ‘You can trust me to make sure everything is looked after.’

  ‘No boys,’ he warned with a pointed finger.

  ‘No boys,’ I nodded. From his professional black and white head shot, in no universe could Logan Steele be mistaken as a boy.

  ‘And why has Jensen advised me that he’s flying the large jet from London?’

  ‘A friend from there couldn’t get a flight out,’ I shrugged, knowing that Jensen would have kept his mouth shut. I made sure that I seduced all of Daddy’s key employees, securing recordings of the events, as a form of insurance policy for any indiscretions that they may witness. Some had been a pleasure, some not so much. Alderton, his accountant, a bald sweaty man in his early fifties had taken much effort to even contemplate, let alone carry out. He was key however in ensuring that he covered my tracks when it came to spending some of Daddy’s money without his knowledge, like the fee I was paying Logan for tonight. I shuddered as the memory of Alderton’s podgy belly smothered my toned cheerleader’s one as he’d panted, dripping sweat from his brow and turned so red I was worried he was going to have a heart attack and I’d die pinned underneath his fat frame. Anyone would think he’d performed the New York marathon the way he gasped with each thrust, if it lasted sixty seconds he was lucky. Very lucky, me too in a way, I’d never been so happy to have sex with someone with a lack of stamina. I wasn’t even convinced he’d penetrated me his dick was that small. Thank God for “small” mercies, I thought with an internal giggle.

  ‘You’ll bankrupt me one day, Camilla. Order whatever you want from room service, the bill’s on me, ok?’

  ‘Thank you Daddy, you’re the best,’ I beamed.

  ‘Have a wonderful night and I’ll meet you and your friends for lunch in the Domville private dining room.’

  ‘They’ll all be gone by then,’ I lied. ‘How about we just have lunch on our own, without Beatrice.’

  ‘When will you start calling her mother?’ he replied with another sigh as he
pushed his hand through his distinguished black hair, streaked with silver.

  ‘She’s not my mother, she’s step mother number five and I hate her,’ I bit back angrily. I didn’t even remember my own mother, she’d died in childbirth. Apparently Daddy had been so distraught that was why he’d refused to have more children, and why I was so precious to him. Beatrice joked that I should be called “Precious” he was that blinded by me. I’d simply stuck my tongue out at her while he wasn’t looking. If it came to a choice between me and one of his wives, I’d always win, just like I always had.

  ‘You’ve not given her a chance.’

  ‘Well she’s not exactly given me one, either. Please don’t put me in a mood Daddy, I have to get ready for my special night.’

  ‘Are you getting ready here or the hotel?’

  ‘I have the hairdresser, beauty therapist coming to the suite in a few hours, I may make my way over now.’

  ‘Do you have a pretty party dress, or would you like to get a new one?’

  ‘I’d love a new one,’ I clapped.

  ‘Charge it to my card, shoes and bag as well. Can’t have my Princess looking anything other than stunning on her party night.’

  ‘Daddy, you’re the best,’ I squealed as I launched myself at him and peppered his cheek in kisses, making him laugh.

  I arrived in the six bedroom suite with an entourage of staff behind me. I was having a facial and massage, spray tan, then a mani-pedi with sparkling silver nails to go with my new silver glitter ankle strapped heels. I always kept my waxing up to date, one never knew when a blackmail fuck would arise with one of the staff. Then I’d booked a haircut and colour, style and blow dry, to turn my straight blonde locks into smooth shining sexy waves. I’d purchased an electric blue rubber mini dress, with a silver zip at the rear and a green lace underwear set to match, to enhance my green eyes. It was coming up to eight o’clock by the time I was done, and I could feel myself dampening at the thought that Logan was waiting for me down in the bar and that I’d have his cock buried inside me soon. He’d better be as good as I’d heard and he’d promised, or I’d sue the hell out of him for breach of contract.