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The Wine Girls For Dreixes By Draconicon

"Oh, mon Dieu, finally."

Amy - no, Amalie, she had to remember that on the job - turned to look at the waitress rushing off the job. The corgi girl was already half out of her dress, pulling the strings loose in the back as she walked to the back rooms. She didn't even seem to care that there were still eyes on her. On them, for that matter.

The Spaniel blushed before she managed to recover a little bit, standing that much taller as the 'old boys' of the Hawthwaites Society glanced their way. She didn't dare shift her position or look less than professional, just in case someone else was watching. Belle, the corgi, was already down to her linens, and getting worse.

"You need to get over to table five; they're already waiting for their drinks, and the barman is out of it today. And table three is just waiting for a fight, so do anything you can to keep them quiet. And table two -"

"And who's fault is that, hmm?"

Their supervisor, a fit and trim jackal of a woman, swept out of nowhere. Belle was hurried out of the room, towards the back halls, while the supervisor turned around and fixed Amalie with a stare.

"Ignore her. You have a special client. Booth four."

"But ma'am - I mean, madame, what about -"

"It'll be handled. Booth. Four. And you!"

Belle was getting a talking to as the corgi was dragged off, pulled down the hallway by her ear. Amalie shook her head, turning back to the club...and the dozens of pairs of eyes that were on her due to a lack of other targets. The spaniel blushed, slowly bobbing her head to the group as she curtsied.

"Messieurs et madames, um, very sorry, but everything will be back to normal now. I, um, I must see to the, um, gentilhomme at booth four. I will be with the rest of you as soon as possible."

She hoped that she had gotten the words right. She didn't know french, really, but the way that her interview had gone, it had been made clear to her that if she didn't up her sophistication levels, she would not have this job long. And considering how much she needed it, Amy - Amalie - had to keep on her toes and do her best.

Booth four was off to the side, just out of view of the main floor. It was one of the places where the more 'interesting' members of the Society came, and she imagined that this was one of them. The supervisor said that anyone that picked one of the booths rather than one of the tables would be a valuable client, and that anything asked for must be given.

Nonetheless, she gulped as she walked up to the booths, turning the corner to see who the customer was.

The Doberman waiting at the booth looked up at her over gloved hands. He wore a suit that was as tight as one might imagine, and it revealed a body that was well-kept. The difference between the two of them was as stark as night and day, and she felt almost like one of the girls in those old romantic stories, like Pride and Prejudice and other such things.

That, of course, was ruined as soon as the Doberman fixed her with a smile, tapping the table.

"Order is simple," he said in a voice tinged with a German accent. "Domaine de la Romanee. Tete Maximale."

His French was almost as bad as hers, and she had to work to remember what that actually meant, translating it out of the twisted accent and into the right words from the menu. When she realized what he meant, she nodded. Nothing but the most expensive wine, and maximum head.

"Oui, oui, I will return with it at once," she said.

The wine racks were at the back of the Society, and that allowed her a chance to think. Not about the shock of what sort of things were expected from her - the interview had been quite frank about that - but rather trying to sort herself out about doing it. There was no need to be ashamed about what he was asking, after all. The boys would only talk to each other about what happened at the Society, and whatever else happened, they would keep it a secret from their wives and other girls.

No, the only thing that left her slightly uncomfortable was the difference in size between them. If he was as large down there as he was in all other ways, she didn't know if she would be able to fit him in her muzzle. That would be embarrassing as one could ever imagine, but...

Well, she didn't have much of a choice. She'd just have to try.

Finding the best of the wines, she took it down and carried it as gently and finely as she could to the table. The neck of the bottle rested between her breasts as she returned, and she curtsied once more as she presented it to him.

"May I pour for you, monsieur?" she asked, wincing slightly at the butchering of the pronunciation.

"Nein. I will pour. You, on the other hand..."

He shifted slightly in the booth, and she knew what the gesture meant. It was time for her to earn her pay.

The Spaniel nodded, dropping to her knees after pulling her skirt sufficiently out of the way. She rested her gloved hands on his trousers, slowly pulling the zipper down before nudging the rest of his clothing out of the way. As soon as his underwear was out of the way, the end of a pointed dog dick came into view, already stiffening and with a bit of steam rising off of it, wafting a hint of musk her way under a layer of expensive cologne.

She fanned his clothes out a bit further, working them out of the way so that she could see what she was working with. It was a decent size, already, more than enough to fill her hand, and she could tell that it hadn't fully descended from its sheath. The whole thing was going to be more than enough to fill her mouth, she could tell, and Amalie wasn't exactly shy about how she looked forward to that, her tail starting to wag under her skirt.

The client tapped his cock lightly with one finger as she stared, and she realized that she'd been adoring it for a bit too long. Nodding her apologies, she leaned in and pulled the tip into her mouth, gently suckling along the tapered end until it started to leak into her mouth.

"Mmm...mmm..."

She bobbed her head slowly, working her way down bit by bit, giving him time to adjust to the feeling of someone sucking on him without making it boring. She glanced up at him from the end of the booth, watching him take his first sips of the wine. Apparently, she'd been staring longer than she'd thought.

"Mmm, fine. Sweet, almost too sweet..."

She would have apologized for it if he hadn't looked down at her at the last second, giving her the slightest of smirks. Oh. He was talking about her. Amalie might have blushed were it not for the fact that she was almost halfway down his shaft, and realized that she might be taking it just a bit too fast.

Almost too sweet. Almost too fast. Almost, though. No faster than that for now.

So, the Spaniel eased slightly, pursing her lips around his cock a bit more, bobbing slower but more firmly. He eased up on the commentary, and drank more thoughtfully. His free hand lay on a bag at his side. A doctor's bag? Perhaps. She didn't know what it should look like, but if so, then he might be worth a bit more money.

So, she took it a bit more slowly, still, but put her tongue to work. She tilted her head back, dragging her tongue along the base of his shaft, encouraging it to rise up further. It popped out of her lips, but she leaned her head forward, letting her nose trace along that spot just under the head as she licked along his shaft.

The more she tasted, the less the cologne mattered. She started to get into it, to show him a good girl under him. It wasn't a surprise when he started to sip a bit longer, and she could just make out the bubbles of an occasional snort through the alcohol.

If it wouldn't have been so much less than professional, she might have laughed, but as it was, she knew better.

"Mmmph. Such a...tiefer Geschmack..."

German. She didn't know German. But she could guess. Something about going deeper. Well, if he wanted it...

Amalia darted forward, taking his cock into her mouth again. The Doberman tilted his head back, not quite chugging the wine, but definitely forcing himself to swallow a bit more than he normally would have. She worked forward, back, forward, back, each time tasting a bit more of his pre-cum on the way back. The beginning of his knot was throbbing and swelling, pushing against her lips, and she knew that he was almost done.

He was muttering now, speaking in German too quickly for her to guess what he meant. The excitement must have been getting to him. She slowed, waiting just long enough for him to finish his glass, then -

POP!

Thanking her country upbringing for all the practice, she spread her jaws wide and swallowed his knot. It popped into her muzzle, and she felt the German dog swelling inside, spitting his load down her throat. She coughed slightly around it, but held herself there for as long as she could, swallowing hard.

Eventually, it came to an end, and he helped her off his knot, pinching at the hinges of her jaw to allow her to do it a bit more easily. As she stood up, he corked the bottle, handing it back to her as well as a clip of cash.

"Gut gemacht. Well done."

"Thank you, sir."

She curtsied, stepping out of the way as he collected his things to leave. Glancing at the wad of cash, she smiled. That was more than she'd normally make in at least two weeks, possibly as much as she'd make in a month.

The daydreams of what it would be used for faded almost immediately as whistles came up from the other tables. Turning, the Spaniel saw one with four Shepherds gathered around it, all with at least a partial hard-on.

...This is going to be a long shift.

The End