Verena Vincent

Kayla's Cowboy Fantasy

Chapter One

“So, what you’re telling me is that I can order a man, just like a pizza?” Kayla Foreman asked with a small frown, raising one slim auburn eyebrow doubtfully at the woman across from her. Usually this particular look caused panic among her subordinates, but it wasn’t having the desired effect today. The current recipient of her Dragon Lady Stare seemed strangely oblivious to her intimidation tactics.

Kayla couldn’t actually remember the last time she’d been unable to fluster an opponent. She was a firm believer in keeping the upper hand, no matter what. Today, however, she was feeling more like the mouse than the cat for a change. A slither of discomfort slid through her at the thought of giving up even an inch of power to anyone else. Especially this woman who sold sex for a living.

Trying to appear casual and detached, Kayla crossed her long, silk-clad legs and picked imaginary lint off her tweed skirt as she waited for a response.

“Not at all,” said the elegant woman sitting behind the large, marble-topped desk. She smiled indulgently at Kayla, and leaned back in her chair for a moment before resuming her rigid upright position. “A pizza has a limited amount of options, and isn’t guaranteed to satisfy you. Our product, however, is only limited by your imagination. And if we somehow fail to live up to your expectations, we will gladly refund your money.”

Kayla gestured around her at the tastefully opulent office space owned by Delta of Venus Inc. “Miss Bright. I’ve been running my own multi-national sales department for the past six years. Surely you don’t expect me to believe that you can make this kind of profit in this economy without some kind of stipulation to prevent you clients from demanding a refund. Whether they’re satisfied with your product, or not?”

“I can honestly say that in the eight years this branch has been in operation, we’ve only been asked to issue one refund. And that was due to an ethical dilemma, rather than client dissatisfaction.” Miss Bright frowned at the memory, as if still offended by their imperfect record.

“Only one? That’s very impressive. What was the dilemma exactly?” Kayla asked, expecting her to decline to answer, or change the subject. She was quite shocked when Miss Bright returned her enquiring gaze directly and answered her with refreshing candor.

“The client and the Scene Facilitator fell in love. And technically it was not the client who asked for the refund, but the gentleman. He felt it was wrong to take her money once he became personally involved with her, so we respected his wishes and issued a refund.” She shrugged her shoulders and smoothed one hand over her already flawless platinum chignon.

“You call your hustlers ‘Scene Facilitators?’” Kayla asked with a smile, making air quotes with her fingers at the expression. “Talk about grandiose language. Be honest. Your stable of studs can’t be that much better than what you would find in an upscale brothel. Only the gender of your clientele is different.”

Instead of appearing offended, Miss Bright seemed amused. She gave a tinkling little laugh and shook her head in disbelief. “Our hustlers? How delightful. Our SFs are a far cry from the street prostitutes you envision. Most of our gentlemen have prominent careers; absolutely none of them are on drugs. And they do this because they want to, not because they have to.”

“They want to have sex with strange women for money?” Kayla asked doubtfully.

Miss Bright nodded. “Why wouldn’t they? How many people can say they fulfill fantasies for a living? It’s a dream job for many men. In fact, if you asked any random fellow on the street, I’m positive he would gladly join our ‘stable of studs’ as you so eloquently put it.”

Kayla crossed her arms and frowned. “But they have no choice. If a flatulent grandma with a goiter bigger than my head hires them, they still have to perform, don’t they? Or do you have Viagra on hand at all times to help out when your boys can’t get lead in their pencils?”

Miss Bright’s smile widened at Kayla’s expression but she didn’t lose her professional demeanour. “Erectile enhancements are not typically used by our SFs, unless specifically requested by a client. Some women require a man with a great deal of stamina to achieve their release. But artificial means are rarely necessary.”

Kayla’s eyes widened in disbelief. “They never go soft?” She nearly shouted. “Is this what you’re telling me? No matter what the situation or how weird the request? How is this possible when half the guys out there either can’t get it up, or can’t keep it up?”

“Half? Really? How interesting. And sad. No wonder our service is so popular. But as I said earlier, erectile dysfunction would certainly be grounds for a refund considering our objective is sexual fantasy fulfillment. And yet it’s never been an issue. But this may be related to our screening process. Not only are all our SFs given thorough physical exams by our licensed medical staff to ensure they are free of disease and in prime physical health. They’re also subjected to comprehensive psych evaluations to ensure that they have the proper attitude towards our clients and their roles.”

“And what is the proper attitude exactly?”

“Why, it’s very simple. They must adore and respect women. And feel honored to be providing this very specialized service.”

“So, they really enjoy doing this?” Was it possible? Kayla’s career required her to be tough and occasionally even ruthless, but she prided herself on being fair. Exploiting another person to meet her needs didn’t fit in with the ethical standards she required of herself and those around her. She had some real reservations regarding the idea of paying for sex. However, if Miss Bright was correct, then maybe some of the shame and guilt could be alleviated and she could actually go ahead with this rather unconventional method of fulfilling her fantasy. She hadn’t been having much luck with traditional methods, so maybe her only alternative was to call in a professional.

“Of course. In fact, one of our gentlemen once told me that doing this for a living made it difficult to settle for regular sex.”

Kayla snorted in disbelief. “Really?”

“Really. The complexity and detail required to fulfill a client’s fantasy made him re-think his entire approach to pleasuring a woman. It’s a stereotype, but it also happens to be true that a man’s fantasy life often extends to the physical attributes of his partner or partners, and maybe the sexual position they assume. If he’s feeling particularly inspired, maybe wardrobe, such as lingerie might play a part. But a woman needs a setting, a story, and some kind of connection to feel safe and aroused. Our SFs provide those things.”

“Interesting. So this gigolo, he felt he was serving a higher purpose by screwing these women for money?”

Miss Bright ignored her sarcastic tone. “In a way. Does this make you feel better about proceeding with your registration?” She leaned forward and pulled a red folder towards her. Opening it she scanned the documents within for a moment and then looked expectantly up at Kayla over her stylish rimless glasses.

Kayla shrugged her shoulders and waved a hand at the folder. “I don’t know. This all seems very strange. Cold, somehow. Choosing a sex partner should be more passionate and personal than making out a grocery list, shouldn’t it?”

“But you aren’t choosing a sex partner, Miss Foreman. You’re selecting a living sex object. Chosen based on your preferences and 100 % willing to participate in a scenario designed by you for your ultimate sexual experience. And that is quite different from selecting a cantaloupe at the market or a sex partner. That term implies that you are on equal footing in deciding how your scene will be played out. In this situation, however, you are all powerful and make all the choices. They are merely enthusiastic props in your fantasy.”

“Wow, talk about dehumanizing. If they’re just sex objects, then why don’t I save myself the ten grand and just buy some batteries for my vibrator instead?” Kayla knew she was being outrageous, but she really wanted to shake this woman’s icy calm.

To her credit, Miss Bright didn’t flinch. “Only you can answer that question. Obviously, your personal satisfaction device isn’t providing you with what you need. I’m fairly certain we can come up with a situation that can.”

“I’m still not sure. Doesn’t this seem fairly extreme? Maybe I should try internet or speed dating first. Isn’t that what women do today when they want a man?”

“Those methods are all excellent options for someone looking for a mate or even a tryst. You, however, are looking to live out a fantasy. I suppose you could post some kind of tawdry advertisement on the internet.” Miss Bright waved one elegant manicured hand at the stream-lined computer monitor sitting to one side of her desk. “But who knows how long that would take or what kind of individual you might attract. And you still wouldn’t be completely in control. Whoever answered your ad might not want to play by your rules. Besides, those methods really don’t seem consistent with your nature. You’ve become a very successful business woman by employing the most direct and efficient route possible to attain your goals. I really don’t see why this should be any different. Do you?”

This annoyingly calm woman made an excellent point. Kayla had come from nothing and achieved everything she had ever wanted by the relatively young age of thirty-four. Through determination and hard work she had escaped the mediocrity she had felt was her destiny, and had never let indecisiveness enter her thought process. She was a woman of action and logic, not emotion. Never emotion.

Unfortunately, one can deny their humanity for only so long. And lately, it had become fairly obvious to Kayla that she needed more than just work to satisfy her. She was lonely, bored and unfulfilled. Not to mention, horny as hell. If she could just live out this one fantasy, the one that had plagued her since she was a teenager, she was convinced that she could move on with her life and maybe pursue some more conventional dating methods. Find someone suitable to share her life with rather than a few sweaty hours attempting, unsuccessfully, to relive the past.

“Okay. I think I’m ready. Just one more question and then we can get down to the details.” Kayla reached across the desk and tapped the red folder with her own nail-bitten fingertips. “Isn’t this illegal? I mean, you are sort of a pimp, aren’t you? And your ‘Scene Facilitators’ are really just ridiculously expensive hookers, right?”

This sparked an actual laugh from Miss Bright, and it transformed her face into something lovely, warm, and almost human. “I’ve never actually thought of myself or them in those terms before, but I suppose that would be an accurate description of our elemental roles. And yes, soliciting for sex is illegal. A victimless crime, but a crime nonetheless in the eyes of our misguided legal system. Definitely illegal in Vancouver. In Nevada, however, where all monetary transactions will occur, prostitution is a very common service. So, you will be paying D.O.V. Inc., a consulting fee, and we will simply be providing you with an appointment time and a location where you will meet with one of our representatives for a consultation.”

Kayla frowned. “I’m going to end up in a cell with Big Bertha Bull-dyke, aren’t I?”

Miss Bright grinned wickedly. “Only if that’s your fantasy. And believe me we can arrange it. Otherwise, I can assure you that you are perfectly safe from prosecution. Some of our past clients are very powerful and affluent women. And they're diligent in ensuring that our little operation exists under the radar of the legal system. You see, their images would become extremely tarnished if their activities with us became public knowledge. So, really, you have nothing to worry about. Shall we proceed?”

“I think so. What do you need to know? Everything is there in my application, isn’t it? I’ve checked all the relevant boxes, haven’t I?”

Miss Bright took a pen and circled something on the page she was looking at. “Not quite. There are still some minor details to determine. For instance, it doesn’t say anything here about condoms. Do you have a preference? Ribbed? Lubricated? I assume Magnum-sized is a requirement?”

Kayla stared at her for a moment before answering. It was downright disconcerting shifting their discussion from dodging the law straight into penis size. She hoped her scene facilitator was a lot more proficient at foreplay than Miss Bright. “Magnum-sized?”

“Yes, of course. For the gentleman who is rather generously endowed?”

“Ummm… let’s check that box. Definitely. But generous for a normal adult human male. Not for a rhinoceros or a sperm whale, right? In case I need to work the next day. I don’t want to be walking funny.”

This time Miss Bright actually giggled. “Our Scene Facilitators are usually limited to the human race, so no worries regarding adding bestiality to you list of legal transgressions.”

Kayla couldn’t help it. She gaped in shock. “Seriously? Women actually come to you with fantasies about animals? Wow. My cowboy fantasy must seem ridiculously tame by comparison.”

“Not at all. Every fantasy is unique and fascinating. And when I refer to limiting our SFs to the human race, I didn’t mean that we would indulge a client who wishes to engage in intercourse with an animal. That wouldn’t be an option since a non-human could not give consent. We also do not cater to individuals with a taste for children. Not even the pretense. All scenarios are between consenting adults. Though not always completely human consenting adults.”

Kayla shook her head as if to clear it. “I thought you said no animals?”

“Well, with the popularity of all those vampire books and movies, we do occasionally stage scenarios with supernatural elements. We have one rather hairy SF who makes a passable werewolf. With some help from our make-up and prosthetics team, of course. And don’t forget alien abductions. Some women find an anal probe quite titillating.”

“Clearly, I had no idea of the range of services you provide.”

“We do enjoy a challenge, but most women are just looking to live out something they’ve coveted their whole lives, but haven’t had either the confidence or opportunity to pursue. For some that means experimenting with multiple partners, or individuals from a different race, or gender. For others, like you, it’s a situation that you may have encountered, but which has never been resolved. And you need to experience it to its logical conclusion so you can move on. To exorcise it, if you will.”

“How did you know that? Maybe I just have a thing for cowboys. Many women do. At least judging by all the romance novels featuring them.”

“Perhaps. But if that was the case, you would have just asked to simply have carnal relations with a man in a cowboy hat. Maybe some chaps. Instead, you’ve requested a very specific scenario where you, ‘secretly watch a tall, well-built ranch-hand pleasure himself.’ Is this correct?”

Kayla couldn’t help it. She blushed madly. Despite Miss Bright’s detached tone, her fantasy sounded positively twisted when said out loud. “Umm… Yes. That’s correct.”

Miss Bright tapped the page with her pen. “We seem to be lacking some detail here. The more specific you are, the more vivid we can make your fantasy. For instance, in your fantasy, does the ranch-hand find his release from masturbation alone? Or does he find it with you?”

Oh God. Was she actually talking about this with this icy stranger? But she didn’t see how she could avoid it if her fantasy was going to become a reality. “Hopefully, both. I mean, I would, uh, like to watch him finish. And then after he discovers I’ve been watching him…” She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t say, then I’d like him to fuck me, good, long, and very, very hard. This very proper woman before her seemed about as sexual as a robot. She couldn’t possibly know what it was like to hunger for the weight and heat of a man. His deep penetration and overwhelming, single-minded passion.

“You’d like him to become aroused again and provide you with multiple orgasms through oral and then vaginal sex? What about anal?”

Kayla just blinked for a moment. “I think I’d rather not check that box. Thanks. I’m not a prude about it, but I think that’s probably not part of my fantasy. Is it a common request?”

“Hardly. But it does come up every once in awhile. Some women are curious about it and don’t feel comfortable asking their regular partners because they think they’ll be judged. Or they don’t trust their partner’s competence in that particular brand of pleasure.”

“Okay then. No, to the anal. Is there anything else I need to tell you?”

“Actually, yes. You said you wanted the cowboy to discover you spying on him. What do you envision his reaction to be? Angry? Embarrassed? Playful?”

Kayla paused. What did she want his response to be? How would Jake have reacted? Funny, she’d never thought about that. She'd just imagined him kissing her at the time. Not how he would have felt about her watching him. As she grew older, and her fantasies regarding that day had grown more raunchy, kissing had turned into enthusiastic and gradually kinkier sex. But would he have been angry? Probably. He had definitely thought of her as a pest, not a sexual creature at all. But she had loved him with all her adolescent, angst-ridden heart.

Chapter Two

The event that had become the basis for her obsession had occurred one sunny afternoon just after her fifteenth birthday. She had been in the loft of her family’s small barn, hiding from her mother’s constant nagging attention. She’d been lying on a great pile of hay, with her library books around her when Jake had come in from the field.

At eighteen, he was tall, lanky, and more beautiful than anything she’d ever seen. A friend of her older brother, he’d been staying in their barn that summer, doing some work around their modest farm to earn his keep. There was still a bruise, high on his tanned cheekbone, from his last altercation with his domineering step-father who bullied him unmercifully. That final fight had drove Jake out of his home and into the Foreman’s barn. There just wasn’t room in their tiny home to accommodate him there, but her family had done what they could to make him feel welcome.

When he entered the barn, she held her breath, hoping to avoid detection. If he saw her up there he’d tell her mother where she was and then she’d be forced to go back to the kitchen to learn how to be a “proper wife.”

She had zero interest in being a farmer’s slave/mate, but her mother still felt it was her mission in life to demonstrate to her daughter what was required of a woman living in their rural Alberta community. As far as Kayla was concerned that meant a lifetime of drudgery and poverty, without any relief in sight. A two bedroom house with six people sharing a single ancient bathroom was not her idea of living.

Even at 15, Kayla, or Katie as she was known then, did not want to emulate her mother’s meager existence. She wanted money and power, and she wasn’t going to get that by learning how to bake the perfect pie crust, or how to get cow manure stains out of area rugs. Education was the key to her future, so she spent every spare moment absorbed in the books that introduced her to new ideas and other worlds. Bigger, more important worlds than the dismal one she currently occupied. The only bright spot in her tiny town was Jake, and he was completely disinterested in her.

Looking down through the cracks in the floor, she saw him pass directly beneath her. He had taken off his hat, and his blonde hair was dark with sweat. Dust motes swirled around him in the late afternoon sunshine as he walked with some urgency toward the small pallet he slept on in one of the empty stalls. There was a small, blue pitcher on a table there and he dipped a rag into it, raised the rag over his head, and dripped water onto his upturned face in an attempt to cool off.

She watched as he dipped the cloth into the pitcher again and brought it to the back of his neck and then inside the collar of his plaid work shirt. Impatiently, he ripped open the snaps on his shirt and threw it on the pallet. Leaning down, he picked up the water container, strode to the middle of the barn floor where there was a drain, and dumped the water over his head. It sluiced down over his tanned, smooth skin and she drank in the sight of him, shiny and slick with moisture.

She’d watched him at the local watering hole this past summer, and she certainly wasn’t the only girl there who’d noticed how broad his shoulders had gotten or the way golden hairs had sprouted below his belly button. But seeing him here was different. More intimate. Like he was performing just for her. She felt an odd tightening between her legs as she heard him sigh in relief.

He shook his head like a dog and his shaggy hair sent droplets of water flying around him. Reaching for the clean, but threadbare towel hanging over the side of the stall, he rubbed his chest and shoulders with it as he walked back into the stall where he’d left his shirt. He set the pitcher down on the table and turned toward the wall.

She expected him to leave at this point, but instead he seemed to be taking an unnecessarily long time drying his body. When she performed this task it took all of 30 seconds, but Jake was prolonging the act of toweling off for some reason. His back was to her, so she couldn’t see his expression, but she imagined he had that quiet, concentrated look on his face that she knew so well. The same look that overcame him when he was performing a task that needed his complete focus, like mending a fence or feeding an animal.

In the complete silence of the barn, the sound of a zipper going down was unmistakable. She nearly giggled, thinking he was going to change his clothes right in front of her, but he didn’t remove his jeans. Instead he seemed to be reaching inside them. Is he going to urinate right here in the barn? She wondered, shocked. That seemed an odd thing to do when there were all kinds of bushes out back. But she didn’t hear the distinctive sound of urine hitting the floor. Wildly curious, she moved out of her nest of hay so she could get a better view of what he was doing. She perched on a bale, and peered down from directly above him, glad he seemed too distracted to notice when some hay she’d disturbed fell around him through the cracks in the loft floor.

The first thing she noticed from her new position was the harsh, almost pained expression on Jake’s angular face. His white teeth were clenched and his gaze was focused on the wall in front of him. She angled her position and was able to see a picture was taped there. She couldn’t make out the details, but it looked like a snap shot of Jake’s girlfriend, Hannah, in her stupid, red and white cheerleading uniform. Hannah with the enormous chest and complete disinterest in her boyfriend’s tragic living conditions.

Looking down from Jake’s transfixed face, she allowed her gaze to touch on his naked chest, the tiny brown nipples and the ripples of his tight abdomen. Then she noticed what he was doing. She could see his penis. He was rubbing his hand up and down the shaft in gradually quickening jerks. He was masturbating. She had three brothers, so she had heard them talk about ‘spanking the monkey’ before, but she’d been totally grossed out by the thought of them doing that. Seeing Jake touch himself, however, was shocking and wildly exciting. Watching him, sharing this with him, even without his knowledge, she felt that tingling between her thighs intensify and she pressed her palm there to relieve the pressure.

It didn’t help, so she experimented with cupping the mound between her coltish legs. She mimicked the motion of Jake’s fist as he boldly pumped his penis faster and faster. She pressed her fingers as deep as her denim shorts would allow and it felt divine. Up and down his hand went, and she watched hungrily as he flexed his hips in rhythm with his palm. She widened her stance on the bale of hay and was delighted when this new position allowed her better access to that odd sensitive spot she’d never really noticed before but which now demanded her attention.

Jake was making sounds now. Grunts and harsh exhalations that were both animalistic and beautiful in their urgency. She found that she was fighting to hold back similar mewling sounds in her own throat as the pleasure between her legs intensified.

“Oh God!” Jake cried, throwing back his head. His hand was moving so quickly that she could barely track its movements and his flesh made a sharp slapping sound as he pumped his fist wildly.

Suddenly, there was the sound of a car door slamming outside, and she could hear her brother, Robert, calling Jake’s name. She immediately yanked her hand away from where it had been buried in her crotch and edged as far away from the ledge as possible. If her brother saw what she had been doing she would die of embarrassment.

Below her, Jake stopped touching himself and froze like a rabbit scenting a predator. “Yeah, I’ll be right there,” he called, his voice surprisingly normal-sounding considering what he’d been doing just seconds before. He hung his head and took several deep breaths. When he was calm, he tucked himself back in his jeans with a pained expression on his face and rearranged the tail of his shirt to disguise his aroused state.

She watched him leave, silently bereft at being left alone in her own fevered condition. Closing her eyes, she could still see him there, touching himself and making those oddly arousing sounds in the back of his throat. Lying back on the hay, she moved her hand between her thighs again and wondered what it would be like if Jake ever kissed her. She squirmed in delight as the thought sent another wave of heat rushing through her. Clasping her thighs tightly together around her hand, she ground herself against her fingers and felt something wonderful loosen inside her, and then pleasure washed over her. Her quiet cry of exultation echoed in the dim barn, and she rolled to her side, thinking of that lonely boy who never once thought of her.

“I think I want him to be turned on by it,” Kayla said, looking at Miss Bright with challenge bright in her green eyes. “Yup, he should like being watched. A lot.” Why hold back? It was her fantasy and she needed to communicate what she wanted. This Miss Bright seemed uncommonly intuitive, but she couldn’t read minds. Or could she? Nothing would really surprise her about this woman.

Kayla had to be honest and quit worrying about being judged. What did she have to be embarrassed about anyway? Sex is a biological function and people are driven by their need for it. Wanting it is normal. She’d been denying herself for so long that she’d become some kind of repressed, workaholic spinster. Pursuing her fantasy was probably the most human thing she’d done in awhile. She was finished with being ashamed of her desires.

Miss Bright nodded. “I think I know just the gentleman. You are in for a treat.”

“Really?” Kayla asked, eagerly. “You already have someone in mind?”

“Oh. Yes. He’ll be perfect. But I have one last question. Don’t you think he would want to punish you? Just a little. For watching him?”

Kayla’s eyes widened. Was this woman serious? Did she look like she wanted someone to hurt her? A masochist? “What are we talking about here? A firm nipple twist? Or cigarette burns on my ass? Definitely do not check that box.”