This story was influenced by the work of KeyesLodge. Go read his stuff if you haven’t already.

I’m not quite sure what the images were that were flickering on my giant plasma screen, but whatever they may have been I wasn’t paying them much attention. Truth be told there was only one thing I was watching on that warm Wednesday evening and that was the clock on the wall behind it. To say I was excited about my newest visitor would be putting it mildly. I’d never had a celebrity guest before and I’d barely been able to contain my elation since she’d phoned to book a stay at my establishment the previous Saturday.

Up until then it had been a perfectly ordinary day. I was sitting here watching TV, just like I am now, waiting for one of my regulars to arrive when the phone rang. Nothing strange about that. I’m running a thriving business here, after all. So I answered and the caller greeted me with a warm ‘hello’. It was a woman. Nothing strange about that either. I don’t get many men ringing this place, save for the odd jealous husband whose Wife has been caught in the act.

Anyway, the woman said she was interested in booking a stay, and asked me if I had any slots available that coming week. Now, I wouldn’t call that strange per se, but it’s not exactly a common occurrence. In fact, midweek bookings are rare. I’ve run this place for nearly a year now and I think this was maybe my tenth. Why, you ask? Well, there’s a very simple explanation for that. People work during the week. Not many people work on weekends, except for nurses, shopgirls and bar staff, and I think it would be fair to say that a stay at this place would be a little out of their price range.

So that’s why I was able to fit this woman in so quickly. Usually guests have to book a weekend stay months in advance, but those lucky few who have weekdays Free pretty much have my calendar at their disposal. So I told the woman that my entire week was Free and she could take her pick. She said she’d like a stay from Wednesday evening, through to Thursday. Pretty standard for a first timer. Regulars often booked Friday to Sunday, and for the ones who could come during the week…well, it wasn’t unheard of for them to book Monday to Friday.

I told her that was fine and asked her for her name, clarifying that it had to be her real name for billing purposes. New guests often tried to use pseudonyms. She told me her name was Jessica and I jotted her name on the calendar. Jessica Chastain. I stopped in my tracks, actually breaking the nib of the pencil, the way actors do in comedy films. I was stunned. A famous actress. And not just any famous actress. A freakin’ Academy Award-winning actress. And a drop dead gorgeous one at that.

OK, I should probably start from the top here, right? Hi. My name is Tyler. I’m 24 years old and I run a hotel of sorts (in all honesty, I don’t have an official name for it) catering solely to women. Wealthy women. Usually older. Late 30s to early 40s is my typical age range. Why just women? Well let’s just say that, as a heterosexual man, the kind of services I provide are ones that I have little interest in extending to males. Am I an escort? Nope. Visitors pay only for a stay at my establishment. Any other services they seek are strictly pro bono.

So how did this all begin? Well let me take you back to when I finished college. Two years ago. I bummed around that summer- partying, having casual Sex– enjoying the last few months of freedom before I faced the real world. I got a job at an accountancy firm in West hollywood (I’m an LA boy, born and bred) in September and worked there for a few months whilst living with my parents. Now, it was around this time that my grandfather, quite a wealthy man, very sadly passed away. He was a great guy and I miss him dearly, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t pleased when I learned that he’d left me his holiday home in the LA suburbs.

I’d been looking to move out of my parent’s home and this was the perfect opportunity. No mortgage. No rent to pay. I was at the bottom of the pile at the accountancy firm so my pay was pretty much shit, but it was enough to feed myself and pay the bills, so I moved in right away. The commute to work was a bitch but I loved having my own place. And what’s more, it was friggin’ huge! I’d been here a few times when I was a kid and I’d forgotten quite how large it truly was. Eight bedrooms, two enormous lounges, garage, huge driveway, swimming pool. The whole nine yards.

And to say it improved my luck with the ladies would be an understatement. I’m a good looking guy and I’m in great shape, so I wasn’t exactly starved for action to begin with. But when I got a girl back to this place she never wanted to leave. What would have been simple one night stands during my college days soon turned into full weekends of non-stop Sex, and barely a Friday night passed without me bringing a woman back to what was quickly becoming an archetypal bachelor pad. But it was a visit of one woman in particular that transformed my life into the near 24 hour sexathon that it is today.

That woman was Heather, my mom’s best friend and what I’d always considered to be an absolute textbook MILF. She said my mom had told her about me moving to this place and she dropped by unannounced to pay me a visit in my new digs. Unannounced, but certainly not unwelcome. She was a little younger than my mom but they’d been friends for years. I’d known her more or less my whole life and I’d always had a crush on her. As I’d gotten older, I started to expect that she had a thing for me too. And well…I was right.

What started as a brief visit to check out my new home quickly evolved into one of those all weekend Sex marathons that I talked about earlier. I couldn’t believe it. I’d jerked off to this woman countless times during my teenage years, and there I was, less than ten years later, banging the life out of her for two days straight. It was fucking incredible! Anyway, that’s enough bragging from me. Now onto the important part. During a brief break in our weekend-long fuck session, Heather took a moment to gush about how incredible the house was. And how incredible I was too.

“You know, you could probably make a business out of this,” she suggested, her head on my shoulder, a finger tracing a line in the grooves of my pecs.

“What? Bring women back here and fuck them for money?” I laughed, thinking that either she was joking, or I’d grossly misunderstood.

“Yeah,” she said. “Think about it. A place to have no strings attached Sex with a Hot guy who knows how to fuck. This is exactly what women have been looking for.”

“It is?”

“Uh huh.”

“But wouldn’t that make me a…manwhore?”

Heather laughed. “I believe the term is ‘escort’. But no, it wouldn’t. Women would pay to come and stay here. To relax and unwind. To get away from the stress of their jobs. To escape from their husbands and kids. What they do when they’re here is up to them. And up to you.”

I was intrigued, but I’ve gotta say, it sounded fanciful. “And you think women would want to do that?”

“I know I would. I know a bunch of other women who would too. I’ll put them in touch with you if you like.”

I was still a little sceptical, and really couldn’t see how anything that sounded so great could actually work out in reality. But hey, it was worth a try, right? And well, it turns out that Heather was right. Women were interested in staying at my new home for the weekend. And Hot ones at that! Most were high powered business women who, just as Heather said, wanted to unwind after a week in the office, and escape the monotony of a weekend with their husbands and kids. It started with a few and soon my phone was ringing off the hook with Horny MILFs looking to book a stay at the hottest hotel in town.

My schedule was filling quickly, and it wasn’t long before prospective visitors were being made to wait up to two months for a booking. It was around this time that I got my first visitor on a weekday. One of my regulars called me up and after being hit with the two month wait, desperately blurted out “well, how about a weekday then?”, in a way that suggested she was booking first and thinking second. I knew full well that she worked during the week, as did I, so a weekday stay wasn’t exactly convenient for either of us.

The best I could offer her was a one night stay and a lift back into LA the next morning when I drove to work. She accepted, but it got me thinking, maybe I could have a go at doing this full time. Bookings didn’t come cheap so I was making decent money from my weekend guests alone. Three or four weekday visitors a month and I’d be pretty much set. After a week or two of hemming and hawing, I decided to give it a shot and I gave in my notice at my place of work.

My notice period was a month, and much of it was spent worrying that the bottom was going to fall out of the fucking-women-for-money-but-not-really game, and I was going to find myself jobless with bills up the wazoo, despite still making bookings on an almost daily basis. Well needless to say, my fears were irrational. Like I said before, weekday bookings weren’t exactly common, but I was getting enough to live on and even found myself with some spare cash to get the pool running and repurpose some of the empty rooms.

One I turned into a gym, which saved me having to keep driving to the public one 30 minutes away, and also allowed long-staying guests to get in a morning workout. Another I turned into a massage room, which provided its share of fun with happy endings aplenty. I don’t have any formal training or anything, but several guests find my technique to be great for relieving tension.

And that is pretty much that. Now that you’re all caught up, let’s get back to Miss Chastain.

“OK,” I said, after probably too long a pause. “Lovely to meet you, Miss Chastain.”

“We haven’t met yet, honey,” Jessica laughed. “Though from what I’ve heard about you, I’m very excited to. And please, call me Jessica.”

“Certainly, Jessica,” I replied, hiding my nerves as best I could.

I almost never got nervous around guests these days but I had to admit that my first celebrity caller was making me a little flustered. Growing up in LA, I used to see famous people out and about all the time, but this was my first time actually conversing with one. What’s more, I was trying to fathom how such a big name star had found out about my little establishment in the first place.

Being so close to hollywood, I had my share of visitors from the entertainment industry- producers and the like, so I figured it had come through one of them. One of my regulars was a big player at HBO, and Jessica had recently worked on a miniseries for them with Oscar Isaac, so that seemed like the most logical connection. I made a mental note to thank said regular with a generous discount next time she made a booking.

Usually with new potential visitors I would arrange a Zoom call to check if we were the right match and to see if they had any special requests for their stay. Or at least that’s what I told them. In truth, it was an opportunity to see if prospective guests possessed the physical attributes to which I’d now grown accustomed. Shallow? Maybe a little, but I was now getting so many booking enquiries that I could afford to pick and choose.

Anyway, there was obviously no need for that with Jessica so I completed the preliminaries over the phone. I asked her if there was anything in particular that she wanted to do during her stay and she filled me in on a fantasy she’d had that got my heart pumping with excitement. Once all that had been taken care of, we settled on exact times and I gave her the ZIP code for her GPS. Turns out she actually lives in New York, but she was in LA for filming and had a couple days off. And what better way to spend them than at my place? I signed off formally, biting my tongue to keep from calling her Miss Chastain, and told her I’d see her on Wednesday.

“I can’t wait,” she replied.

Neither could I.

The doorbell rang at 5.15. Jessica was a little late, but I’d gotten used to that with LA traffic. I switched off the TV and went to answer the door. Jessica said she would freshen up when she got here so I figured she’d be arriving in casual mode. I opted to match her with shorts, a t-shirt and a pair of flip flops.

I answered the door and there she was, my very first celebrity guest. She looked even more stunning in person than she did on screen, even in sweats, minimal makeup and her hair in a bun. My greeting was standard fare. Hug. Kiss on the cheek. How was the drive? Did she find the place OK? Once the pleasantries were done with, I took command of the suitcase she was wheeling and gave a quick tour of the house, allocating a room in which she could freshen up.

I went to my room and took a Shower, sprayed on some cologne and styled my hair. I picked out some clothes- a pair of skinny fit suit pants, a freshly pressed white shirt and a neatly buffed pair of brogues. I was ready some time before Jessica, as I’d expected, and waited in my room as per our arrangement. Jessica was in her room for a while and I was dying to see the vision she was crafting in the ensuite mirror.

Finally the door opened and I heard her stilettos thud down the hallway as she headed for the front door. The door slammed shut and now I was in fantasy mode. She waited a minute or two then rang the doorbell. I took a quick look in the mirror then went to answer it.

“Tyler?” she said, making a show of taking off her wedding ring and slipping it into her handbag. Undoubtedly part of her fantasy.

“Jessica?” I replied, ushering her inside. “Great to finally meet you in person.”

“Great to meet you too.” We hugged again and I got a whiff of her perfume as she kissed my cheek. “You’re even more handsome than your profile.”

“Thank you,” I said, playing along as best I could.

It was difficult to pretend that I was seeing her for the first time, considering we’d just met not more than an hour ago, but telling her how beautiful she looked didn’t require much performance. She looked absolutely stunning in a long black dress that was split almost up to the pantyline, entirely barebacked and tight in all the right places. It was jaw dropping. As was the rest of her. Her makeup had been applied to devastating effect and that gorgeous red hair of hers had been lightly curled, hanging gracefully over one of her shoulders.

Her fantasy, as you’ve probably already guessed, was meeting a man on a dating app for a night of no strings passion. That might seem a little vanilla for us mere mortals, but this is the kind of thing that famous people just can’t do. Especially ones with a husband and two children waiting for them at home. What’s more, our ‘first date’ was at my house- a serious no-no for any woman, but for Jessica Chastain it was a surefire way to end up tied in a stalker’s basement for days on end. For someone of her fame and beauty, the only way to engage in something like this was with a guy like me.

I took her to the bar and she picked out a bottle of wine. I poured us both a glass and she accompanied me to the kitchen while I got started on dinner. My famous chicken stir fry. I cooked, we drank, we chatted, both of us in character. Jessica had made it clear to me in advance that she wasn’t going to be movie star Jessica Chastain in this little scenario, but had kept me in the dark about what her character was going to do for a living. Turns out this evening Jessica was going to be hollywood talent agent Jessica Chastain. Which made a lot of sense. Right about what you know, and all that. She talked for a while about her ‘job’, about difficult clients and high-profile roles that she’d booked them in. I tried to workout if she was referring to anyone in particular, but quickly came to the conclusion that it was entirely fictional.

Another thing, Jessica hadn’t told me what my ‘job’ was going to be either and I kind of assumed I’d get to pick my own. I was wrong.

“So you’re a masseur, right?” she said, a tiny character-breaking smirk suggesting that she’d thought of that earlier when I gave her the tour of the house. Perhaps in hope of a Free sample of my ‘professional’ talents. “How long have you been doing that? Not long I’m guessing,” she added, a clear reference to my tender age. Something that I’m beginning to suspect might play quite a sizable part in this fantasy of hers.

“Five years. I started training right out of high school,” I said playing up to the fantasy.

Jessica briefly broke character again, flashing me a second grin that told me I was right to do so. “I see. This is a lovely house by the way. How many people do you have to rubdown to afford a place like this?”

I laughed. “I get some good tips.”

“I bet you do,” Jessica quipped and I received a flirty smile from both the actress and talent agent alike.

Dinner was ready and I served us up a couple of plates. We took them through to the lounge and I refreshed our drinks. Our mealtime conversation continued in much the same vein- extremely flirtatious and you could cut the sexual tension with a knife. I was dying to get my hands on her and it was clear that the opposite was just as true, but there was something about having to wait which made it all the hotter. Most guests would be all over me before I’d even closed the front door, which of course I had no complaints about. But part of me actually preferred it this way. And there was little doubt that letting the tension build to such intolerable levels would result in some of the best Sex that either of us had ever had.

We finished up dinner and I offered her dessert, but Jessica declined. I should have known that a woman with her figure wouldn’t go in for sweets. I poured out the rest of the wine and we took our glasses to the couch where the conversation continued. Jessica might not have been a casual dater in real life but she played the part very well. Unsurprising for a woman of her talent. She had been flirtatious from minute one and only became more so as the evening progressed.

Soon, the playful dialogue was accompanied by light physical contact. A touch of my arm. A pat of my thigh. Draining the last of her wine, Jessica kicked off her stilettos and curled her legs up onto the sofa, draping an arm across my shoulders. Suddenly no more needed to be said. This was the moment and we both knew it. We both leaned in, slowly, until our lips touched. It should come as no surprise to learn that Jessica Chastain is a phenomenal kisser. Not overly aggressive, but forceful enough that I knew I was in for a hell of a time. Her lips were perfect- soft and full with expert application of her shiny pink lipstick. Not enough to smear but enough to leave a pleasant taste tingling on the edge of my mouth.

Tongue was applied as things heated up and a hand returned to my thigh, trailing along the seam of my pants. I reciprocated with a hand on her back, lightly stroking the exposed flesh. My cock was growing stiffer by the minute and soon the hand that was snaking along my thigh made contact with the tip. The kissing intensified, and Jessica started stroking me through my pants, traversing the length of my shaft with her palm. She got up onto her knees and her hands moved to my belt, unbuckling it smoothly as our lips stayed fastened together. Unzipping my pants, her lips moved down to my neck as she reached inside. Sliding her fingers through the hole in my boxers, she fed my dick through my open zipper and her lips formed a perfect O as she laid her eyes upon it.

“Wow!” she said, raising those neatly plucked brows.

Oh, yeah. Did I forget to mention that I’m hung like a Shire horse? Well, I am. Ten inches to be exact, and I could tell from the look on her face that I’m the biggest that Jessica had seen. I’m guessing my HBO regular informed her of my size, but I could tell from Jessica’s reaction that picturing a ten inch dick and seeing one in person are two very different things.