Excerpt for Gold Digger by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

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Blair Erotica

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.

* * * *

At ten in the morning, I opened the door to Terry's suite and went in with my cleaning cart. He had rooms that opened onto the beach. There was no "do not disturb" sign on the door, but I was sure someone was still in there so it didn't surprise me to find a woman lying naked in the big bed of the suite, but I noted it wasn't the black girl I'd seen him with the night before. This one was anything but. She had platinum blonde hair, cut very short and a pale body that sported more than a couple of tattoos.

I thought she looked familiar.

She looked at me and stretched languidly. "Oh hello. Is it the fucking morning already? Please don't clean the bathroom yet. Terry is taking a shower. He doesn't like being disturbed."

"Fine." My heart pounded with excitement. The setup was perfect. I'd be in his room with him. The other woman was irrelevant.

"Don't make the bed yet," she said, smiling at me and rubbing her pussy. "We might not be done with it yet. He gets horny in the morning."

I set about emptying trashcans and soon the bathroom door opened and Terry came out, smelling of soap and cleanliness and looking like a god. He was a naked god—sculpted out of flesh like one of those Greek statues made of marble. I couldn't help but stare at his long and absolutely beautiful cock.

"Hello," he said cheerfully. The look in his eye was anything but cheerful.

"I told her to wait to clean the bathroom," the woman said. She'd seen his eyes running over my body and there was a note of concern in her voice. The look on her own face told me she'd realized that I might be competition, not just a servant. Tough shit, cutie.

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