At last, she allowed him to cum, letting his seed spurt into her mouth in almost painful spasms of ejaculation. Her tight grip at the base of his cock released, allowing the pent up seed to pass, so that it shot through his urethra at blast velocity.
His hips bucked involuntarily, raising his narrow cheeks off the stone slab of the poolside paving, his orgasm ripped through his body. Her lips, locked around his purple head, creating a seal, trapping his viscous fluids until she was certain she had it all. Then, as the small tensions subsided, she let his come dribble from between her painted lips, to run down his shaft and coalesce at the base of his shaven cock.
For a moment, she was quite happy to let his milky white substance, pool in the little hollow where root met body, while she held his, still rigid cock, in her mouth, savouring the after taste of his spend. Then, in exquisite and deliberate slowness, she lowered her head, taking his entire length into her throat until her lips met the resistance of his balls and groin.
She sucked around his girth, causing the cooling cum to pass between her lips and his cock once again, to return to the warmth of her mouth. When she was satisfied she had sucked it all back into her mouth, she slowly lifted her head, allowing his shaft to emerge from her throat and between her lips until only the very tip was all that joined them.
She swallowed then, her throat working the globules of seminal fluid to the back of her throat before sliding down into her gullet.
Chrissie stood, water cascading from her heavy, bare breasts that were swinging slightly. A lascivious smile played over her lips as she licked them clean of his residue. The shallow water came to her navel, distorting the view of her lower half.
It had been sheer torture for him. Chrissie, it was now abundantly clear, was an expert on prolonging the moment of release and had kept him on the edge for something like two hours. The constant erection had become uncomfortable in the end, but served to sweeten the release. He felt sure that, had it not been in her mouth, he probably would have managed to hit the glass ceiling of the in-door pool-house, so powerful had his eruption been. Mike closed his eyes for a moment’s respite.
In that two hour session, she had ridden him mercilessly, grinding herself against his groin, almost tearing his cock off with the firmness of her muscles. She had, had him eat her, demanding he suck on her clit and labia until his mouth ached. Throughout, she had been the controlling influence, her demands were to be met before all else, then, and only then, was he allowed his release.
Chrissie leaned and planted a kiss on his lips. Her tits brushed against the cooling skin of his shoulder. He could taste his cum on her tongue as it slid between his teeth. He wasn’t sure he liked it, but with no choice in the matter, endured it.
His advertisement in the newspaper shop was starting to pay dividends. Chrissie was his fifth customer in the two and a half weeks since the advert went up, announcing his services as a compliant escort. He did think to himself though, that his price needed to go up. Not that he was being greedy, just that a higher price would be less attractive to the poorer end of the market, meaning that he might have a better, more entertaining evening.
Chrissie had been the first customer hiring him who had money and all the trappings that go with it. If he was in it just for the sex, then it wouldn’t be a problem, but that wasn’t his only motive. It would be fantastic to find a rich woman to sponsor him through the remainder of his studies.
Wealthier women had less hang ups too, he supposed. Guilt wouldn’t cloud the after effects of a pleasant afternoon in his company. Oddly enough, it seemed that with the luxury of money came a certain spirit of adventure. A rich woman seemed to have far more experience and a desire to have her wants attended to, than say, a woman who had to work for a living. Perhaps it was the availability of time in which to play and explore or, a greater boredom and time to fill.
Chrissie paid him, cash, in a plain white envelope. Neither of them hurried to dress, she preferred a silky house coat which flapped open at the front showing her enhanced breasts and surgically flattened stomach. Her wealth bought a body more in keeping with someone half her age. They left the cool confines of the pool house to return to the living room where the afternoons entertainment had started, then on further to the vaulted lobby at the foot of the stairs.
Mike leant forward, kissing her cheek as he opened the main entrance door.
“Thank you Michael.” She breathed against his ear. He didn’t correct her, knowing that she got a small, perverse pleasure, calling him Michael instead of Mike. “That was just perfect.”
“You have my number.” He answered, indicating his new business card that still sat, pristine, on the marble topped occasional table by the door. Her nod effectively dismissed him.
He stepped through into the coolness of the porch then, into the harsh sunlight of an August day. The heat hit him immediately, taking his breath away momentarily. Robert, his given name, not the professional one used on his business card, drove home to a cool shower and a study session.
Before he hit the music books, he briefly checked his answer phone, noticing the red light blinking. Two messages, the first from his mother telling him he was expected that Saturday, the ‘Old Man’s birthday bash’. It was hard to think of him as seventy. The other message was a little more cryptic, but then turned out to be one of the several cross dressers that had latched onto his advert, wanting to be ‘out on the town’ with a man on their arm. Robert deleted both and reset the machine.
So far, it had been easy to keep his two worlds apart. Lucy, his part-time girlfriend had no idea about his cash raising scheme. He had been careful to note where she would be so that they wouldn’t clash, not that it would be too much of a problem, it was a loose arrangement they shared, but it might prove tricky to explain if she saw him with different women all the time. It was though, quite tiring, having a slight effect on his progress through studying classical music. Falling asleep never endears one to the lecturer and does mean you missed the vital points of the lecture. Power Point notes just didn’t convey the real meaning of what the Lecturer was trying to get across.
The phone trilled. Robert realised that he had been snoozing and came back to life with a start.
“Hello, is that Mike?” The female voice asked. She sounded as if she were shouting down a long tunnel, obviously a mobile.
Hearing his working name, Robert instantly reached for a pad and pen he kept just for these calls.
“Yes, Mike speaking.” He waited for her to continue, hearing a rustling, then a loud noise. The line went quiet for a second, then her voice again.
“Sorry, I dropped the phone.” She sounded young and nervous.
“What can I do for you er…?
“Oh! Sally, sorry. I’m a bit… um… well, you understand.” She paused. “I eh… well I need an escort for a function.
They talked further and made arrangements to meet for a coffee the next morning. Robert dropped the receiver and hit the books. Vivaldi wasn’t his favourite composer, finding his music a bit too frenetic for his tastes, but it had to be done.
Before going to bed, he called Lucy and invited her down to his parent’s on Saturday. In something of a tired voice, she agreed, said night and dropped the receiver on its cradle, cutting off any chance for a chat. He figured she had someone with her, but was too tired to be curious.
Sally looked pretty much as he had imagined her. An elfin face was framed by brown ringlets that sat atop a thin framed, narrow shouldered girl. She wasn’t unpleasant to look at, but not really his type, he didn’t go for the diminutive in a woman, preferring self assurance and a body to match.
She stood as he approached her table, a questioning and hopeful look in her eyes.
“Mike?” She stood around five feet four inches, definitely under ten stone and trembling over every inch.
“Hi, you must be Sally, would you like another coffee?” He asked, noting that she had emptied a large latte already. The cup looked cold, as if she had been there some time.
“Um sure…yes…why not?” Her nervous smile crinkled the edges of her eyes. Mid thirties he thought, single, probably a career girl.
“Two sugars right?”
“How did you… yes please.” He pointed at the sugar tubes opened on the saucer.
“Elementary.” He laughed at his small joke and was pleased to see she had understood the reference to Sherlock Holmes. She wasn’t entirely unread then.
Robert was able to study her in the reflection of the mirror behind the bar. Sally fussed with her floral dress, arranging, then, rearranging the folds as they fell over her knees. She fidgeted constantly, showing her agitation in jerky, incessant movements. Her dress hung off the shoulder with a fashionably low neck line, a copy of early sixties fashion with large flowers in red and pink printed on the voluminous material. Had she been slightly well endowed with breasts, it might have been revealing, fetching even, but on her, looked rather too much for her spare frame.
She had no jewellery on not even a watch adorned her body. Her fingers were very long, almost disproportionate to the rest of her hand, slender, but not quite bony. Thin wrists led to slender arms eventually lost in the dropped sleeve. Briefly, he imagined her naked, the image didn’t fire his emotions.
The Barista handed him his change and two milky coffees on a tray, telling him the sugar was on a stand at the end of the counter. Robert loaded the saucers with the multicoloured tubes of sugar and a wooden stirrer each.
“So, tell me, what’s the function you’re going to?” He placed the coffee in front of her as he sat opposite.
“It’s a presentation at the Lancaster Hotel. A dinner and dance event, its a couple’s night and well… I needed someone to go with…” She didn’t quite say that she didn’t have a boyfriend, but the pause filled in the blanks.
“…I wanted to go; it’s my first time and, well…” She ran out of words, her embarrassment painfully obvious by the flush in her cheeks and her hands wringing just below the table top. He couldn’t miss her profound shyness and began to realise just how much this meeting was costing her, his admiration for her resolve increased.
“What do you do?” He thought, by subtly changing the cadence of their introductions to familiar territory, she might relax a little.
“I’m an Accountant for a law firm, been there for a few years. Its okay, but the hours are long. I don’t get out much…” She puttered to a halt, still nervously wringing her hands in her lap, keeping her eyes downcast.
“…anyway, how does this work” She might be nervous, but he liked her directness of purpose.
They sat over the coffee and discussed his fee for the evening, when and where to meet, then, left for their separate ways with a date for the Friday evening. She had arranged for a limousine to first pick him up and then her, on the way to the hotel.
At seven, Friday evening, Robert locked his front door and pocketed the keys in his rented tuxedo. The waiting stretched limo drove to her address in Chelsea, a narrow mews off of Flood Street.
Sally looked as if she should have wings sprouting from her back. Clothed as she was in a ball gown made up of layers of diaphanous gauzy materials, her elfin looks were highlighted, giving the effect of a wingless fairy. He marvelled at just how delicate she was, realising that she probably would be a size eight or less. Her hair rose up from her face, looking like it might be supported by some kind of hidden structure before falling, unhindered to her shoulders. It had been straightened and coloured lighter than her natural brown.
“You look fabulous.” His compliment evinced a radiant smile which spread further when he offered her a trousseau of bright yellow orchids on a wrist band.
“Thank you.” She smiled into his eyes as he closed the car door, taking care not to catch her foot in its glittering shoe.
The food was very good, several courses ranging from game, fish, fowl and red meats, each accompanied by complimentary wine, all served by hovering, liveried waiters, in a never ending supply, it seemed.
Sally was to receive one of the top awards, a partnership in the company after scoring a huge deal in Australia and Singapore. She returned back to their table clutching a glass and marble trophy and a grin that threatened to split her face. The award was a complete surprise to her, adding to the thrill of the achievement.
Some time later, when the room started to become louder, when drink induced conversations reached a cacophonous level, Sally leaned towards Robert and suggested that they make their exit. She had downed several flutes of champagne and was somewhat the worse for it.
They found the limousine, eventually, the driver was leaning against the side, smoking and chatting with other drivers who were also waiting for their charges. Robert opened the door for her and had to guide her in where her balance was off by a few degrees and one hand clutched the trophy.
The journey to her Chelsea mews was in complete silence, even the car whispered noiselessly through the London streets.
“Do you want to come up?” She asked him, her eyes unfocused, peering at his face.
“Um, okay, I’ll see you in.” Robert dismissed the driver, telling him he would catch a cab.
The combination of champagne and fresh air hit Sally quite suddenly. A hand flew to her mouth as if to dam anything from spewing out. It failed. She threw up in retching heaves, managing to aim it all into a concrete flower planter. She accepted his handkerchief and wiped her mouth while trying to apologise.
He gently took her arm and steered her through the entrance door of her apartment block whose mews entrance belied the space behind the glass door, then, eventually to her door. Robert unlocked the door, taking her keys from her fumbling hands.
Sally rushed for the toilet as soon as she got to the marble floored entrance hall as another bout threatened to disable her. He found the living room and waited, listening to her retching, intent on just making sure she was okay before he left. He laid her keys on a glass topped coffee table that took centre place of her sparsely furnished apartment. What furniture there was, spoke of quality, but was understated in whites or a slight variation.
Sally came into the living room some ten minutes later, very much better and steadier than she had been. Her eyes had cleared and the ruddiness of inebriation had gone.
“Look, I should go, we can have that coffee another time.” He sympathised with her distress, hadn’t he been in a similar condition himself on far too many occasions.
“No! Please sit, have a drink.” There was a hint of desperation in her voice accentuated with staccato movements.
“I um… well I had hoped you would stay for a while. I will pay the extra of course.” She stood in front of him, nervously wringing her hands, looking, for all the world, like a female version of Uriah Heap from the Dickens novel, ‘ever so ‘umble.’
It seemed the expulsion of alcohol had sobered her up, but allowed the nerves to return.
“Look, I won’t be a moment.” Without warning, she turned and fled back down the corridor, that lead off the living room. Alone, Robert sat on the nearest armchair to await her return.
Five minutes passed, he wasn’t sure if she had run back to the toilet or left the building like Elvis, the silence of the apartment thrummed in his ears as if he suffered from tinnitus, but at a much lower register.
And then, suddenly, from a separate doorway behind him, she came back into the room, a small susurration of sound the only clue he had that she had returned. Robert spun in the chair and was confronted with Sally and a complete costume change.
Her milky white skin was an opposite contrast to the black of a cheap harness, the type Anne Summer catalogues sell. Fake leather straps surrounded her small breasts before joining and disappearing around her back only to return much lower and join just above her pubic bone and then to split again and pass through the gap between her legs, framing her hairless pussy. A studded collar completed the entirety of her attire. That at least, looked like genuine leather and probably was originally meant for a dog.
He almost laughed, but managed to stifle the urge. Her nerves were shot already. His mirth would completely unmake her. Dressed, Sally wasn’t exactly endowed, but unclothed, she was quite thin, delicate even, but somehow, not angular as an anorexic might be. Nothing stuck out like ribs or hip bones, it was all just smaller than average. Naked, she had a softness and symmetry that he found rather appealing.
She stood, her left knee cocked in front of her right leg, closing the natural gap between her legs. Her arms hung to her sides and slightly around her back so that he could not see her hands, but suspected that she had also bought herself a pair of handcuffs. Unbidden, a mental picture of fluffy pink fur came to mind, it made him smile.
“Do you like?” She coquettishly tilted her head, waiting for his approval.
“I… um… well it is a surprise.” He smiled again and, as if that was all she had been waiting for, was almost startled at her rush toward him. She threw herself face down on the floor at his feet. He winced imagining the hurt it must have caused her spare frame as she connected with the marble floor tiles. She had indeed shackled her hands behind her back, the cuffs looked real.
“Take me Master,” she yelled, “I’m your’s to do with as you please.”
Robert was taken aback somewhat by the sudden turn of events and wasn’t sure quite what to do with her for a moment. Certainly, her earlier demeanour hadn’t given any clue to this brazen side of her.
He collected his thoughts and decided to play along with the game.
Using the toe of his patent leather shoe, he hooked her under an elbow and flipped her over. A combination of coldness from the tiles and the force of her landing on them had made her nipples stand erect. Her skin showed red where she had landed on the floor. Not for the first time, did he wonder why women with tiny breasts had large nipples, large than usual. These stood prominently, coloured and darkened, as if painted with henna.
He rested his foot lightly on her flat stomach and peered down at her from his seated position and stared at her while he asked.
“So my little slave, what have you been up to eh?”
Her eyes flicked away from the intensity of his gaze.
“I have been very bad master; I got drunk at a party and threw up. I must be punished as you see fit. May I get you a cane?”
Fucking hell! He thought to himself, this woman is really into it.
“Yes you had better. Go now before it is too late.”
Somewhat awkwardly, she got to her knees and then stood only to rush out of the room the moment she had her feet under her and then return a few seconds later with a thin riding crop in her mouth. Again, she threw herself down at his feet, but on her knees this time and dropped the crop as a retrieving dog would.
He picked it up, hefting the weight in his right hand. It was no pretend thing the blackened leather was stiff except for the leather loop at the end of the braided handle.
“Stand up.” He ordered. She stood, trembling slightly, but whether that was anticipation or nerves, he wasn’t sure.
“Now lean over the arm of the chair.” She complied wordlessly, offering her milky white buttocks to him as she bent at the waist and rested on the chair arm with her feet on the floor.
Robert stood and surveyed her flawless, alabaster coloured skin, before swishing the crop and slapping it into the palm of his hand. It stung, but served to let him know that he would need to be gentle, if he didn’t want to hurt her.
He flicked the looped end, lightly striking her exposed bottom. She yelped dutifully and a small red mark showed the point of contact. He flicked at her again, hitting the other cheek. Again, she yelped and stiffened a little.
“Master must punish me,” she muttered, “but master must punish me hard, my sins are so great.”
He took the hint and smacked her ass a little harder, making sure that she felt it.
His next blow was more than he would have chosen, but was exactly what she was pleading for. His subsequent blows, he aimed so that none hit the same spot, brought yells from her pleading for more and yes, harder yet.
Her ass was looking quite red now, but she begged for just a little more absolution. He struck her twice more, using force he knew would really hurt, but all she did was moan and thank him with each strike.
It was doing nothing for Robert, hitting women, even in sexual play was not his idea of a fun time, but being the professional he was, he performed to their wishes, after all, they were paying and it was their fantasies he was catering to.
“Stand up, slut.” He commanded. She folded her knees and managed to stand without the benefit of her hands.
“Now kneel on the floor.”
He watched as she bent one knee then the other so that she knelt upright in front of him on the floor. Her nose was approximately level with his groin. Deliberately slowly, Robert slid the tab of his zipper down, all the time watching her eyes that seemed to be transfixed on his actions. He pulled the flap of his fly to one side and with a little effort, snagged his underpants as well, freeing his cock. It unfolded and emerged into the light of the room.
The crop left a red welt across her breast. One more slash, another red welt pointing to her nipple across her left breast was all it needed for her to be quivering, mouth open, gasping and a light perspiration on her brow. He dropped the crop onto the settee.
“Now my little slave, use your mouth and make sure you do it well.”
“Yes Master.” She mumbled, just before his cock began to pass between her lips. Her mouth was warm and a willing recipient. She suckled on him, bringing his flaccid prick to gradual hardness.
He grabbed her hair at the back of her head, winding it around his fingers. Gently, but insistently, he forced her to swallow as much of his length as he dared, little deeper then, pulled her head back, only to pull her onto him again. In this way, he slowly mouth fucked her, she didn’t resist in any way. It occurred to Robert that she would probably have allowed him to spew his come in her throat. Instead, he took his cock out of her mouth and slapped her cheek with it.
“Does my little slave want to be used?” He waited a heartbeat for an answer then, asked, “Is my little slut ready to be fucked?”
“Yes sir.” Her head was bowed so her answer was quiet.
“What did you say?”
“I said, yes sir, please fuck me.”
She stood. Robert grasped the riding crop from the settee and then, taking her arm, steered her toward the bedroom. As with the rest of the apartment, everything was white or a shade of white, in a minimalistic way, it had elegance to it. Colour came from the duvet cover, being a deep blue. He found he liked the décor but would have liked a little more furniture, possibly.
He guided her to the edge of the queen-sized bed. She stood, stock still awaiting his command. He pushed her forward so that she fell, face down on the bed and, before she had time to react, he lashed her buttocks with the crop, leaving a livid red welt across both, already reddened cheeks.
“Spread your legs.”
Her legs parted, but not enough for his liking, so he gave her another reminder with the crop. Her legs flew apart, exposing her pussy lips that pouted and were trapped between the straps of her harness, pushing them out. Without any force, he swiped her imprisoned lips with the crop, evincing a yelp of surprise from her. She quivered expectantly, waiting for the next lash of the whip.
Robert dropped his clothes to the floor and knelt between her parted legs.
“Kneel up.” It wasn’t easy to do, but eventually, she had her knees under her body, making her little ass rounded.
He felt her cunt, running finger tips over her labia and then between her lips. Her little box was red hot and ready for him if her wetness was any indication. He pushed a finger into her, making it feel as if it was done with force, but in truth, quite gently. He was mindful that she was much smaller than he and it would be all too easy to hurt her.
His finger was joined by another. In the position she was, with her head on the bed and her ass in the air, her lips opened for him as did her body. For a brief moment, as light hit her at the right angle, he glimpsed into her depths.
He expertly slipped a condom on with one hand while fingering her with the other.
Robert adjusted his position and shoved his length into her box up to the hilt.
“Oh yes Master, fuck me.”
He slapped her shoulder with the crop.
“I didn’t tell you to talk.” He slapped her again and was rewarded with a squeal of shock and delight.
His paced picked up. Robert was soon pumping into her, his cock getting harder as it found new depths in which to plunder her body. He lent forward, passing the handle of the riding crop in front of her until he managed to get in into her mouth like a horse bit.
He pulled her up, grasping the crop on either side, trusting that she would grip it in her teeth. Her new angle allowed him to push even further into her, his balls were slapping against her clit. She was grunting in time with his thrusts as her body accepted his total.
Suddenly, she came with a howl, but Robert was still a way off from his climax, so he continued to fuck her in this variation of doggy, still forcing her head back with the crop in her teeth. She came again, and then again, shaking as each climax smashed through her body and her cries reflected his thrusts.
He let go of the crop and grabbed her breasts as if for leverage and began to pump into her in earnest, driving him towards the culmination of the act.
“Get on the floor now.”
Somewhat inelegantly, he slipped backward to allow her to comply. Equally, and some what unsteadily, she managed to kneel on the floor. Robert stood in front of her and rubbed his cock, aiming it at her face.
“Take off the rubber slave.” She could only use her teeth; her hands were still clasped in the hand cuffs.
A few more pumps on his naked cock had his come hit her cheeks and spray over her forehead and eyes. Her lips parted to allow a little to enter her mouth.
“Thank you Master.” She said once he had finished spraying her with his milky seed.
“This slave needed to be punished and thanks you for the gift of his seed.”
Later, after the promised coffee, Robert left her home. The sun was just creeping up over the horizon of the Thames. He was totally shattered and pleased with the extra two hundred pounds she had given him. He was also thrilled with her comments about how he had interpreted her desires so well. A job well done to the satisfaction of all parties and might well be repeated at some time in the future.
“Change please, change please.”
The singsong voice pleaded but, without the conviction you might expect from someone, truly desperate. Robert had seen the same guy in his regular spot in Charing Cross Underground for as long as he had been commuting to London. The street beggar never seemed to alter and didn’t look particularly needy. His clothes were of a good standard, hair combed and short and certainly, he wasn’t mal-nourished.
He passed the sitting man, thinking that he can’t even be bothered with the “Spare” from the usual phrase “Spare change please” associated with street begging in the town.
It was Monday and Robert was trying to recoup from the heavy weekend. His night with the Accountant had taken a huge chunk out of his energy reserves. The drive to Eastbourne, where his parents lived, had been slow with holiday traffic and then, after a late finish to the party, Lucy had attacked his body like a desperate animal, starving and frenetic in her need.
As was often the case, they argued on the way back. Robert couldn’t understand why, after a session where Lucy climaxed, she would launch into him as if guilt drove her to denial. It was as if she was punishing herself for enjoying sex and, in her self flagellation, punished those around her. Privately, Robert thought she had a hang up that needed the services of a shrink. This was possibly one of the main reasons that both of them couldn’t commit to any real future with each other.
Robert had dropped her at home, a perfunctory kiss on his cheek as she opened the car door and then, she was gone, with no goodbye or backward glance as if she was shutting out the last few hours, cutting it out of her memory.
He had a message on the answer phone, but it was only his mother saying thank you for coming and the present. He slept for four hours before showering and catching the tube to UCL where he had a lecture on modern influence and sudden rise in popularity of classical music.
Dinner that night was a hastily cooked scrambled eggs and toast, washed down with a glass of beer, warm from sitting on the window sill in the sunshine. Robert caught up with some of his studying and reviewed his dissertation, avoiding the urge to dump it in the recycle bin.
His evening was rescued by the trill of the phone.
“Hi is that Michael?” Robert reached for his pad.
“Yes, Michael speaking, how can I help you?”
“Hi, my name’s Rachel, I need an escort for this weekend and wondered if you were free. I saw your advert in the local newspaper. Is that your real picture?”
“Hi Rachel, yep that’s me. The weekend is free at the moment. What did you have in mind?”
“Oh! It’s just a party, but is meant to be his and hers. The ‘hers’ is not a problem, but the ‘his’ might be. So, as a last resort, I hoped you could be my escort for the evening.”
Robert took her details, discussed his fee of two hundred pounds for a six hour stint. The party was in Essex, they agreed to take a cab from her address. Dress was to be smart casual.
Saturday evening found him outside her flat in an East London Suburb. He had opted for a pair of stone coloured chinos, a Paul Smith shirt and a tan blazer that hadn’t seen the light of day for quite some time. Brown deck shoes completed the ensemble. He felt comfortably dressed and quite ready for the evening’s entertainments.
Rachel, when she answered the door to his press on the bell push, was nothing like her voice might have suggested. On the telephone, her voice, in its lightness, suggested someone on the diminutive side. Rachel was anything but diminutive. Although not obese, Rachel was heavily built. She stood in her Jeans and a multicoloured blouse at around five feet nine with broad shoulders and a heavy set body supported on thick legs that filled the jeans.
Her smile though, was quite charming and went with her chatty personality very well. She had made her face using just hints of colour over her eyes and a light blush to her cheeks. Robert liked the way her short brown hair had been cut into her neck, shaped like a wedge, he noticed the subtle highlights of red.
“Ready?” She asked him breezily as she checked the door and carefully placed her keys into a side pocket of the leather purse.
The cab had been waiting at the curb. Rachel gave the driver her invitation card with the address on it. Co-ordinates pressed into his sat-nav, they set off to what turned out to be a converted barn in Chalfont Saint Peter in rural Essex. Robert paid the driver and secured his services for the return journey later in the evening.
Her tickets were checked at the door by two very large men in black suits and black ties that looked like they might be strangling the muscle bound guys. Robert thought the suits might have had to be sprayed on.
The next three hours passed much too slowly. The music wasn’t to Robert’s taste, he had never really developed a liking for sixties pop. Rachel had pretty much dumped him by the bar and melted into the crowded dance floor. He caught the occasional glimpse of her dancing with other women and once or twice, with a guy who looked like he might be a Rugby prop forward, but moved with a grace that belied his bulk.
The scotch had been watered down or was such a cheap variety that all the taste and content had been left behind somewhere. He chatted to a couple of people who wanted his space at the bar so they could recharge glasses, but nothing interesting and really, only fragmentary, voices struggling to overcome the loudness of the music.
At last, Rachel found him propping up the bar looking quite bored and more than ready to go home. She had a girl by the wrist and was dragging her behind, almost pulling the poor thing off of her feet.
“This is Sally.” Rachel yelled in his ear. “She’s coming home with us.”
The cab was a little late for the return journey. While they waited in the coolness of the dark night, Rachel and Sally swapped tongues in a display of feminine lust and desperation to get inside each others clothing.
Rachel jumped head first, onto the back seat yanking the slight Sally behind her like a rag doll. Robert found that he had to take the single pull down seat so he was facing the two girls and would have his back to the driver.
Sally smiled and said hi then, even before the driver had engaged gear, turned in the seat, threw a leg over Rachel’s knees and proceeded to French kiss her. Robert had a fleeting glance of white panties as her skirt opened. He watched the two girls as their tongues performed explorations and breathing became quite short. He felt quite spare and extra to use, even slightly voyeuristic as their passions increased.
Sally’s fingers manipulated the buttons of Rachel’s blouse, opening two or three before her hand slipped between the flaps to grasp a breast. Rachel’s hands were equally busy, travelling the length of Sally’s torso and pulling at her clothing as if it might come undone suddenly, as if held together with Velcro.
By the time they reached Sally’s flat, the girls had become completely lost in each other. Although they had managed to retain some modestly by not actually exposing each others body parts, the show they had put on, for their own benefit, had been steamy enough to warrant the cab driver to study the rear view mirror.
Sally and Rachel tumbled out of the cab, giggling and fumbling, leaving Robert to pay off the driver.
“You got yer ‘ands full there mate.” He dryly observed. “’Ope you got the stamina.”
“Somehow, I don’t think I will be needed tonight.” Robert accepted the proffered change and watched the cab draw away with the driver shaking his head.
Robert would have let it go at that point, but he had yet to be paid, so followed the noise of the two women, taking advantage of the doors left open.
He found Rachel in the kitchen fixing what looked like a treble shot of tequila and some strange pink juice. Sally was nowhere to be seen, but could be heard tittering in a close by room.
“Um, look, I’ll leave you two to it then. But, I er… well I haven’t been paid yet Rachel.”
She looked suitably mollified as she fished out an envelope from her bag on the counter top.
“Sorry about that Mike and thanks for looking after us. Wanna drink?”
“Its okay thanks, think I’ll just head off.”
“Oh please stay, Sally really wants to fuck you, she said so and… well a threesome sounds quite nice doesn’t it Sal?”
He hadn’t heard Sally come up behind him. She reached around his waist and grasped his balls, playfully squeezing them as if to test their weight. He felt a momentary panic as he wondered just what it was he had landed in.
“Ain’t nuffink like a nice ‘ot cock while me girlfriend eats me.” Sally let him go only to grasp his buttocks with both hands. “Nice tight arse you got their Mike, Rach, you have ‘is pants down girl while I ‘ave a good feel.”
Rachel did as she was instructed, before Robert had time to do much else, she had his button undone and was yanking his Chino’s and pants down around his ankles.
“Fucking hell Sal! You should see this mother!” Her eyes, now only a few inches away from his cock, looked almost saucer sized as she took his length in. With no more thought, she opened her mouth and sucked his head in.
Sally was also kneeling and had worked her way around from behind him to see what all the fuss was about. Most of his cock was in Rachel’s mouth, but enough to give her an idea that he wasn’t small in the penile department, was showing.
“Oh! He’s shaved as well, we done it right this time Rach.”
They shared the sucking duties, swapping him from mouth to mouth between kissing each other, rubbing exposed tongues as they poked out between their lips.
He had to call a halt after a few minutes, not wanting to unload all too soon, even into willing mouths.
The girls picked up their drinks and walked into the living room. In short order, they had divested themselves of clothing and had each snorted a line, something Robert had never wanted to get into, but allowed that some people enjoyed the recreational side of drugs.
He sipped a coke with ice in it while he watched the girls go at it. They kissed and explored, tongues darting as nimble fingers manipulated. Then Sally went down on Rachel, sucking her clit into her mouth while fingering her wetness. Soon one finger was joined by another, then another until she had managed to slip all four fingers into Rachel’s body. It was only a matter of time and lubrication, until her whole hand, up to the wrist was disappearing. Rachel’s head thrashed from side to side in obvious ecstasy, culminating in a loud squeal as she came with a gush of amber fluid.
The roles were reversed, but Sally, being somewhat smaller than Rachel, could only take three fingers of Rachel’s hand. It didn’t matter though, the result was the same, Sally reached her orgasm loudly, yelling, fit to bring the cops.
The evening finished with the two in a sixty nine position while Robert fucked Sally’s arse, exactly as she had demanded. Rachel licked his spend off of Sally as it oozed from her crack. His function complete, Robert eventually extricated himself and found a cab home exhausted and a hundred pounds better off than he had expected to be.
Robert’s next assignment found him in the clutches of an old woman after what had been a pleasant afternoon in Brighton, taking tea in a quaint little tea shop in the lanes. There was nothing he could do for her, even his libido had scruples and a woman, fast approaching octogenarianism, was a step too far for him. That she had money and seemed to be fascinated by his youth and virility didn’t help. He let her down as gently as he could, not wanting to hurt her feelings, but realising that, once offered, there was no way to say no without crushing her. His mistake though, was lying when he said he wasn’t feeling too well. She came back for another crack at him a few days later, stating her interest in him and that she thought she might be in love.
The money would have been handy, but Robert, even though he was up for hire to anyone with the money, just was so appalled that he was almost physically sick. She eventually took the hint after several phone calls that ended with her cursing him as she slammed the receiver down.
In fact, Robert’s next few assignments and remainder of the month were best forgotten. It was as if his luck had completely deserted him. Each woman who called his advertised number, carried more than enough baggage or something else, equally unattractive. He began to think that it had all been beginners luck until Elizabeth called.
Elizabeth turned out to be married, had been for many years to a successful businessman who took little interest in her affairs. Elizabeth was what is popularly known as a “trophy wife”, someone to show off to his rivals and colleagues alike. In her late twenties, she was stunningly beautiful, an ex model, well educated and articulate. Her dress sense unerringly flattered and highlighted her attributes. Robert felt a small flutter when they met to discuss terms.
She was to travel to Paris to take in a fashion show, a social event on her calendar. Although she wasn’t in the industry any more, she liked to keep abreast of the trends and had many friends who still peddled their ankles on the catwalk.
He was to meet her at Saint Pancras Station, bring enough clothes for an extended weekend and make sure he had something presentable to wear. Elizabeth was quite precise about the arrangements and demonstrated an orderly mind that paid attention to detail. His ticket for the Euro-Star Train would arrive in the post the day before. If it did indeed arrive, it was his signal that the date was on, if it didn’t, she would advance him something on account as a retainer in case his services were needed at some future date.
The rest of the week passed quite slowly, Robert’s anticipation grew exponentially as the days ticked off until Saturday. Then, at last, the day arrived and found Robert waiting at the top of the stairs that led down to the Euro-Star platforms. The board showed destinations to Brussels, Lille and Paris. He had his ticket, standard class return to Paris tucked into the inside pocket of his blazer. He had chosen slacks, a linen shirt and the tan coloured jacket with deck shoes.
He saw her emerging from the tube station staircase. She was head and shoulders above most of her fellow travellers, her height turning several heads and then her looks causing a second glance of appreciation. She wore a simple ‘A’ line, light blue dress that came to just above her knee. She wore very little jewellery, apart from a gold pendant at her throat and short drop earrings that sparkled as they caught the light.
Elizabeth smiled briefly, almost efficiently, like recognition of his presence, but without wishing anyone else to know that she had detected him. Her hand shot out and met his in a perfunctory hand shake, all business like and impersonal, as much as skin contract can be.
Robert felt a small tremor of thrill and opened his mouth to say hello, but she beat him to the drop.
“Hello Robert, we will dispense with the pseudonym, you look like a Robert, nothing like a Michael.” She looked at him steadily and then said. “We had better get going. That is, if you are still on for the weekend.” Her smile was automatic, sliding across her mouth, but not reaching her eyes.
“Yes of course…” Elizabeth had already begun to move towards the step down to the reception and checking in desk. She was travelling first class. Separate carriages then. Robert wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that, but had the distinct feeling that he was no more than the hired help. He had time to think about it on the two and a half hours it took to get to Gard Du Nord station in France. He was the hired help, little more than the status of a pet, he should have expected that, but wasn’t used to slipping into a subservient role.
They shared a taxi silently until the cab stopped outside Hotel De Ville in Avenue Victoria, alongside the Seine. Robert was in awe of the hotel, but even in more of her buying power. This was several hundred Euros a night for the basic room, not that the prices were advertised at all, if you needed to ask, you couldn’t afford it.
His room, even though it wasn’t premier level, still had an opulence that Robert had never experienced before. He could only guess at what Elizabeth had taken, but if the way the busboys and concierge had fussed around her, she was probably in the presidential suite and well known as a patron.
By the time he had freshened up from the trip and explored the plush room he found himself in, Elizabeth had called his bedside telephone and asked him to meet her in the lounge in ten minutes.
Gilt covered frescoes and relief panels lined the walls and ceiling of the lounge. A hovering waiter had taken his order of a club tonic with a twist. She arrived a few minutes later, asking for an Evian as she steered her way to his table.
“Robert, I will be going out for the remainder of the day and will be back at eight o’clock. We will have dinner in my suite at nine, please make sure you are there, but, why not sightsee while I’m away?”
Their drinks arrived, delivered by the waiter on silent soles. She took a sip and then left him alone.
The afternoon was spent visiting the Eiffel Tower and walking around the Latin Quarter, window shopping at the works of art and lunching at a bistro while he observed the people of the city as they hurried around on their business.
Dinner that night with Elizabeth was almost formal. The courses kept warm on a hostess trolley and served by their own personal waiter. Robert could not have put a name to the dishes he ate or the wine that accompanied the courses. He related the events of his walk about. Elizabeth glossed over the fashion show premier. Her private showing had left her somewhat less than inspired.
And then, it was time to go to bed. As simple as that, no preamble or awkwardness, just a simple turn of events, as if it had no more meaning than the business proposition it truly was. She stood, unzipped her dress and stepped out of the fabric. She wore no underwear, only a string of pearls and matching earrings.
“The master bedroom is through there.” She indicated with a nod of her head.
Robert was transfixed. He knew she was beautiful and had crafted an image in his mind. The actuality surpassed that by some margin.
Her breasts were in proportion with her size, possibly a C cup and slightly upturned. Absolutely no sag to them, just gentle swells that culminated in perfectly aligned nipples with darker aureoles. Her stomach could not have been flatter, not even a slight bulge to pronounce her pubic vee. Her hair was neatly trimmed to a vertical line, there was no evidence of shaving. It was entirely possible she had had the hair follicles removed by some kind of procedure.
She turned, showing a perfect ass, neither too large nor too narrow, well defined maximus gluteus muscles with flawless skin as a cover. As she stepped away from him towards the bedroom, he marvelled at her musculature that rippled smoothly under her tight skin. He followed, like an obedient puppy, undoing his shirt buttons as he walked.
He placed a pack of condoms on the bedside cabinet and, for the first time, held her without the barrier of clothing between them. The silk sheets had been kicked off into a crumpled heap at the end of the huge bed.
His holding her was like an awakening of his senses. Her smell intrigued him, a subtle blend of natural and concocted essences. Her hair, shortish, lay in perfectly arranged rivulets either side of her head. Her eyes, suddenly so blue and so close, stared up at him as he crooked her head in his elbow that supported his weight. She lay on her back, studying his face silently, guilessly and with an innocence that he had not expected. Suddenly, it was as if the business arrangement had changed, so that he was the major partner.
Intuitively, he knew that he should take the lead in this phase of their liaison. He cupped her left breast, rubbing the pad of his thumb over her nipple, watching as it hardened at his touch.
“God Elizabeth, you are beautiful.” He couldn’t help the words escaping his lips, his mouth forming the words a millisecond after he thought them.
She smiled coquettishly, threw her arm around his neck and drew his lips to hers.
The kiss tasted of the food they had shared, but more, subtle hints of something like honey and sweetness lingered on her lips and breath. Robert became acutely aware that he had fallen for this woman and equally aware, that was a breach of his contract with her. Somehow, he put it to the back of his mind and bent to the task.
Her tongue found his as it passed between his teeth, and then she accepted his in return. His hand continued to manipulate her breast until he slid it behind her shoulder to roll her toward him so that they lay stomach to stomach. Gently, with just finger tips, he brushed her back, enjoying the shivering sensations they produced, small in takes of breath as her nerve endings enjoyed his touch.
Their temperatures and heartbeat had risen, breathing became synchronised as tongues roamed and explored each others mouths. Robert lightly passed his fingertips over her waist, a ticklish spot under normal conditions, but an erogenous zone when in a sexual encounter. She shivered against him and moaned softly as he travelled onto her lower abdomen, tracing her vee towards her sex.
He bent his head, pulling out his arm from under her head, and kissed her very aroused nipple. He sucked her hardness into his mouth and nibbled gently, relishing her immediate reaction of arched back. With consummate slowness, he slid his lips and tongue between her breasts, tracing the bone structure, then, continued downward, passing the bottom of her ribcage, over her belly button and on towards her sex, interspersing his licks with little kisses, savouring her taste.
Elizabeth held the back of his head, her fingers entwined with his hair, neither pulling nor pushing him, just maintaining a contact with him. Her back arched and relaxed only to arch again as her nerve endings registered his kisses and the anticipation of his tongue on her sex, built deliciously.
Her anticipation was at last rewarded. Robert gently pried her legs apart so that he could taste her feminine essence. Tentatively, his tongue tip flicked over her nub, a light touch over her clit, which may as well have been from a live wire by the result it produced. The reaction was instantaneous and profound to her senses. She came there and then. With no more than just the build up of sexual tension, promise and the expert touch of Robert’s tongue and fingertips.
She would have tried for a reprise then, but Robert had other ideas as the pressure from his tongue increased and travelled all the way to her sex. She submitted to his actions, revelling in his mastery of her body.
He adjusted his position, lifting a knee over her leg and then the other, so that he could have free access to her while she lay on her back. He sucked her hardening clit into his mouth while his fingers found her nipples to tease and tweak them. Elizabeth came again in a shuddering climax that she stifled with the back of her hand between her teeth.
Satisfied that she was ready, Robert slid over her body, supporting his weight on his forearms placed either side of her torso. Slowly, but purposely, his hard cock zoned in on her waiting depths, unerringly aligned to penetrate her in a union of mutual gratification. His head, nudged against her lips, seeking entrance and home.
His initial thrust was gentle, an exploration of her inner self, an opening of her body to his invasion. The second and subsequent thrusts were with a higher urgency and need to take her as his conquest.
Time stood unnoticed, Robert felt her inner walls grip him with her muscular, ribbed interior that massaged and coaxed his seed. Elizabeth was expert at a muscle control, surpassing anyone else he had ever encountered. Somehow, he managed to stop well before he got to the point when he would not be able to control the need to impregnate her.
He lent up and reached for the condoms, effectively raising his body over hers. Before he had a chance to grab the packet, Elizabeth’s lips closed around his cock and sucked him into her hot mouth. It was his turn to groan at the pleasure he was receiving. She suckled and massaged him with her tongue, all the while, keeping him deep over her tongue.
It had to stop or he would complete right there. He rose and managed to get a rubber out of the foil pack. He was about to put it on, but her hand stopped him, covering his fingers, preventing him from the delicate operation.
“I want you deep Robert, I want your cum in my cunt.” It was the first expletive he had heard from her lips, but somehow, the word was fitting in the context.
He threw the half unwrapped rubber and turned her over so that her perfect arse faced him. He eased his length into her body and began to fuck into her, starting an act that would only finish when he had finally filled her with this spend.
The pace settled into something manageable, that allowed for exploration of hands and fingers, but was insistent in the quest to complete the act. His cock buried inside her, pulsed as his climax approached, she sensed his closeness and this knowledge heightened her own needs and wants. Automatically, she tuned her orgasm to coincide with his.
That was how it crashed over them, a mutual orgasm, producing fluids from them both that mixed and coalesced in a riot of moans and stolen breathes, taken, as heart beats fibrillated at the sheer ecstasy of a perfect union.
He held her close, as mini-shocks passed over her, producing the same small tremors in him. Sated and replete, they calmed gradually. Elizabeth turned to hold him and then, suddenly, she burst into tears that soon evolved into wracking sobs and wails of utter misery.
Robert realised then, just how alone and desperate Elizabeth really was. The trappings of wealth and position, proved as nothing when faced with raw emotion that great sex and the simple union of two people can engender.
He pulled her to him and held her to his breast as she poured out her grief. Eventually, she slept. He slipped out of bed, semi-dressed and returned to his own room.
The rest of the weekend passed too quickly. Saturday night was spent in bed, locked in union that, although satisfying and much more than pleasurable, didn’t quite hit the same heights of raw emotion the previous night had hit.
Their parting at Saint Pancras at the end of the weekend was almost back to a business like status, a shutter had come down over her, Elizabeth’s usual persona resumed and nothing could penetrate the barriers.
“Thank you Robert, it was… wonderful.” She smiled an indulgent remembrance of their first night. “But, you must forget me, forget this weekend and forgive me my moment of weakness.”
“Elizabeth…” He started and paused while he sought the words. “…I will not, cannot forget Paris, or you. Nor will I forget your smell and feel, or your taste and your tears. Don’t ask that of me please? I might be for hire, and therefore, little more than a contractor, but I prefer to think that we made a connection, something beyond client relationship and it is I who should thank you.”
“Goodbye Robert, take care and please expect you payment in the post as promised.” She turned, impersonally, effectively dismissing him, but somehow, he knew it was all a lie. He hoped he was under her skin and that she would call on his services again.
He watched her walk away to the underground, knowing that she wore nothing under the plain, ‘A’ line dress in light blue. Knowing how she smelled and tasted and knowing also, that she needed him desperately. He watched as heads turned appreciatively and smiled at the privilege this chosen profession had afforded him.
There was no point in pretending anymore, Robert's studies were going to hell in a hand basket. There was also, no point in pretending that he wasn't enjoying himself. But, and it was proving to be a big but, he was having doubts about the women he met through his adverts.
His initial advert in the shop window had been superseded with a flashier, more colourful card. It brought a few enquiries, but was proving to be the weaker point of sale. He had taken out a small space in the local free newspaper contact column which had started to pay off. But, the problem was, well the women who called him were not Elizabeth and definitely not in her class.
He thought long and hard about his future. It was obvious that his need for money, plus the enjoyment of his extra-curricular activities, was having a detrimental effect on studying Music. Most of the time, he was far too tired to concentrate for more than a few minutes before falling asleep. So it was perhaps, time to consider whether he wanted to continue as a student and give up the profession, or chose the latter as a career move and possibly pick up the studies later. The thing that bothered him though, was the standard of the majority of his clients and that was mostly because of his adverts and their placing he realised.
Then, while answering a call from a new client, it dawned on him that he should join an agency. Let them find the bookings, pay them a small fee and have access to a much better class of client. It wasn't that he was being snobbish, just that his libido had limits and for him to produce the goods, he had to at least like the look of the woman. Having them vetted by an agency, seemed like the way to go.
He joined 'Private Encounters', an agency that boasted a central London address and promised endless clients. His resume was accepted and a short interview in a cheap hotel off of The Edgware Road found him being punted around the contact magazines and website they had. Robert removed his own adverts and waited for the phone to ring. It didn't take long.
Amber, his contact with the agency, had booked him with a bubbly blonde called Suzanne who was looking for a date for the night to go nightclubbing. He was to meet her at her hotel at eleven that night. Was to be wearing a suit and tie and be prepared for a long evening.
Suzanne answered his knock, opening the door to her room with a smile and a welcome in.
"Just finishing up." She said over her shoulder as she headed for the bedroom. "Won't be a moment, make yourself comfortable." Her accent hinted at California.
Her perfume left a heavy trail behind her. Her dress, gauzy and multi-coloured, flowed long, to mid calf, but seemed to accentuate her figure. She was as tall as he, in her metallic grey sandals. Her hair flowed to shoulder blade length in blonde tresses of luxuriant thickness. Robert thought that she might look fantastic naked, at least from the rear view he had. She also had a perma-tan, typical of American women.
During the ride to Soho, he found out that she did in fact come from California and was over here for a month, 'doing Europe'. So far she had spent three days in Paris and two in Amsterdam. Neither had inspired her too much.
He listened as she prattled on, not really concentrating on her words, but intently on her mouth. He realised she had perfect teeth. Each was perfectly aligned, beautifully white and completely even and so obviously the product of an orthodontist. Her lips, on the full side, were quite wide, wider than the European average perhaps and very inviting. Her mouth was expressive and spoke more in the secret language of the body than her words did. Her eyes that danced, never resting in any one place for more than a split second, were grey/blue with a dark outer ring to her iris.
"Have I got herpes or something?" The stream of words had stopped for a moment, only to continue with her sudden question.
"What? Oh, I'm sorry. I was just watching your mouth. You have an incredible mouth." He felt more than a little stupid at the ineptness of his comment, but hoped it covered his switching off.
"My friends call me motor mouth, you know, revved up all the time?" He liked her accent. In fact, there wasn't much he didn't like about her. He also liked that she let him off the hook so easily.
They ate at the Trocadero and then moved onto the night clubs, staying only long enough in each, to grab a drink and then, move on to the next. Very similar to her eyes, Suzanne seemed unable to settle at all.
Eventually, after what seemed like every nightclub in London, they ended up at Ministry of Sound in Vauxhall at two o'clock in the morning.
"Didn't Boy George used to be a DJ here?" She yelled in his ear, only just getting over the club thump of "Dance Anthem" that seemed to exude from the very walls.
He didn't try to yell back, just nodded a yes. Somehow, they managed to get the bar to come up with two Coronas without glasses and a wedge of lime shoved down the neck of the bottle.
And then Suzanne danced, spinning away from him, her bottle describing arcs as she twisted and spun on the floor. Her choice of dress was now obviously deliberate. The lightweight fabric spun out as she twisted, giving the observer a less than subtle view of her tanned thighs. Robert joined her on the dance floor, holding his beer in one hand and her slim waist in the other. Through the next few dance anthems, they clung to each other and gyrated in a simulation of coupling that drew more than one or two admiring glances.
"Let's go." She whispered closely into his ear.
Robert hailed a taxi which took them along the Embankment of the Thames toward her hotel in Knightsbridge.
"I know it's extra..." She whispered. " ... but I feel really fucking horny and ... well ... it's been a while, since I had a man screw me." She delivered a beatific smile as she waited for his response.
Before he had time to think, the joke was out of his mouth.
"What. Do you bat for the other side then?" He wished he had bitten off the words a millisecond later. Lame did not cover it.
Shock at his directness registered in her eyes before she recovered and answered.
"Well yes, generally I don't involve a man in my love life..." Her eyes glittered in the reflected lighting of the shops they passed. It made him think of a she devil for some reason. " ... but I occasionally allow one into my bed..." Her grin was quiet wicked and her deliberate pause caught him. He didn't know if she was being serious or not. " ... You seem okay, you will do for now."
He knew she was making fun now and feigned punching her on the shoulder. Her laugh was instantaneous and completely at ease.
Clothing was thrown in any direction in the haste to get naked and into each other when they arrived at her hotel door. Somehow, while undressing each other and maintaining a contact of lips, they managed to get to the bedroom and fall onto the queen sized bed in a heap.
Robert took charge, pushing her down onto her back while his fingers sought her sex and his mouth sucked her nipple into his mouth. She tasted great and the perfume of her skin was intoxicating.
Suzanne wasn't the type to be submissive though. She had ideas of her own and soon had his cock in her wide mouth while she massaged his balls. She sucked greedily, downing most of his length, covering him in her saliva.
Naked, Suzanne was every bit as beautiful as he had thought she would be when he first saw her. His anticipation had been rewarded, but what he hadn't been expecting, was her athleticism. She could ride him as if on a bucking bronco, but without falling off.
Once she had satisfied her hunger for cock head in her throat, she pushed Robert back and straddled him, grasped his dick and sat on it as if he were a Sybian vibrator and there she stayed, writhing and rubbing herself against him, getting her self off and paying no attention to him.
Under no illusions that he was, in his role, little more than his customer's temporary plaything, Robert was mostly okay with that. But, this was an out an out use of his body for her pleasure and hers alone. It was the first time that Robert felt used and he wasn't sure he liked that so much.
"Cmon big boy, fuck me will ya?" The fact that he was trapped beneath her seemed to have eluded her completely, but Robert managed to thrust up, bearing her weight momentarily. Her pelvic thrusts drove him back down, grinding him into the bed as her tempo increased. At last, she was getting there and hastened her climax with her fingers rubbing her clit as she gyrated on his cock.
She threw her head back, stretching her long neck, her throat exposed, sinews pronounced and sighed as she came, twitching in after shocks, bathed in sheen of perspiration from the exertion.
Robert hadn't cum, hadn't felt like he would have done any time soon. And, although she was quite beautiful with a fantastic shape and tits to die for, found he didn't like her enough to even want to try and complete. He didn't like her selfish taking of his body with not thought to his satisfaction. It was a first for him and left him feeling somewhat unsure of himself.
Suzanne, now that she had reached her goal, arose sinuously from him, breaking the contact of genitalia, leaving a slick residue over his groin and walked to the en-suite bathroom.
"My purse is on the dresser; take whatever the going rate is and shut the door behind you please." No goodbye or thank you, just a dismissal like rubbish after use.
Robert's feeling of being a human dildo deepened, she wasn't even going to allow him to clean himself up. As far as she was concerned, he had performed the function of her need and had no more interest in him. He retrieved his clothing, dressed and yelled through the bathroom door that she could keep her money. It was a small ego booster, very small, but made him feel better about himself.
The cheque for the evening arrived two days later with a note from the Agency that his client had called to say that his service was way above expectation and that the agency would be subject to recommendation back home. Amber was delighted that her new boy was such a success and added a hand written note of thanks.
Robert closed the note, screwed it up and tossed it, over hand, into the waste bin. The events of that night had given him cause to reflect yet again. Being an escort had its obvious merits. Getting to screw women on a regular basis was an obvious up-side.
But the realisation that he was nothing more than a temporary thing, made him feel that his worth was somewhere on a par with a rampant rabbit.
Being listless was something new to Robert, but listless he was over the next couple of days. Suddenly, he missed his studies, missed the pressure of assignment deadlines. It was irrational, he knew, but the feeling of baselessness and lack of worth would not shift.
The agency called with his next appointment for the following Saturday night. Robert was less than enthusiastic, but accepted, rationalising that the money would be useful. Amber must have picked up on his lacklustre response to the appointment because she insisted that he meet her for lunch that day.
Amber turned out to be in her late forties, but had kept her looks and her appearance. Her make up, was subtly applied, accentuating the contours of her jaw line and cheeks. Eye shadow was muted, a blend of at least two colours and in perfect unity with a flesh-tone lipstick. She wore a simple 'A' line dress and a single string of pearls around her neck.
She ordered lunch for both of them, conferring with him over the choice and deciding on a warm salad with a glass of chardonnay to wash it down.
She talked over the food and the edge of her wine glass. Her eyes rarely left his as she told him about the origins of Private Encounters. How she had started it as an up-market client point of contact as she put it. Her days on the street had made her realise that she was better than the average hooker. It had been a struggle, coming from lowly origins, but was now a very successful business.
"But that isn't why I asked you to lunch Robert." She stared at him, her blue eyes holding him. "Although you have been with us a short time only, the comments that came from your first client have brought you to my attention and, I like to look after my "special" charges. You seemed unhappy on the phone earlier, so, I wanted to make sure everything is okay with you."
Robert didn't know quite what to say. He didn't really know how to express his deep feeling of worthlessness. Robert was unused to talking about himself or his emotions with anyone, let alone his employer. So, he just shrugged his shoulders noncommittally and stared at his food.
"Is the money not enough?"
He found his voice after a few seconds, while he organised his mind.
"The money is fine. It's just..." He searched for the right words. " ... well, I feel used." And that was the crux of it. In voicing his feelings, Robert realised what his problem was, he wanted something more than casual liaisons. He wanted a partner, someone to love.
"I see". She paused for a moment while she thought about the problem and then espoused her philosophy. "That feeling is nothing uncommon for us in the sex industry. The trick is to keep our working and private lives separate. I can't tell you how to do that, you will work it out for yourself in time, but it is a necessity, otherwise you become a slave to the machine, rather than the other way around." She paused again and looked at the top of Robert's head and tapped the table top to get his attention.
"I felt the same way years ago, working the street and then the hotels. As a way of making money, it was fine, but I was lonely. Until, that is, I found my boyfriend and created a separate life, totally independent from work."
Robert remembered Lucy, his one time girlfriend, now departed and really not missed. He wondered what she was doing these days.
Amber continued. "You have plenty of free time Robert, so why not get out in the world and see the roses. Smell the roses and, if you are open enough, grow your own rose." She liked the metaphor. "Anyway, do the gig on Saturday. Heidi is a long established patron, is wealthy and don't let the fact that she is German put you off."
Amber got up from the chair, adjusted her dress and said as she walked away. "Think about it Robert. Go out and find a girlfriend." She left him at the table, his warm salad untouched and now cold.
Heidi made no pretence of wanting an escort for the evening. What she wanted was to be screwed, royally. This, it seemed, was her twice yearly treat. This was her award for working hard and being a successful money marketer. Trawling the stock markets and buying or selling money. It is mostly a man's world, but she had a natural flair and competed on their terms.
Twice a year, she would call Private Encounters, see who was new on the books and arrange for her weekend entertainment. Coming over from Bonn for a three day stay in the Park Lane Hilton, spending silly amounts in Oxford Street and then getting fucked senseless by a hired cock was her bi-annual reward.
Robert had hardly knocked at her hotel door at the arranged eight o'clock, before he was physically dragged in and his clothes unceremoniously stripped from his body. Heidi walked around him as he stood motionless in the middle of the Suites entrance hall.
"Hm." She mused, her chin in her hand as she studied his physic. "Not bad, not bad at all." She stood about five foot two inches tall, coming up to his chin.
Heidi was probably late thirties, dressed in nothing but a fishnet body stocking and black patent leather high heels. Her breasts were pushing at the mesh of the fishnet. Her nipples poked through and showed a gold bar in each. Her short blonde hair looked thick and soft, well cut into the nape of her neck. She carried a few extra pounds, mostly on her hips, but all in all, was a fine specimen of womanhood Robert thought.
She grabbed his flaccid organ and cocked her head to one side as she gazed at it.
"Tell me Robert, do you go bare back or sheathed?"
"These days, sheathed mostly." He felt a bit like a museum exhibit, being studied and analysed and more than a little uncomfortable at the intense attention.
"Very wise." She said sagely while she gently pulled on him as if measuring the distance his cock would go. Then, turning, while still holding him, she led Robert to the bedroom.
If he thought this was going to be a straight up, fuck session, he was wrong. Alongside the bed, on a small hostess trolley stood a jeroboam of Brut in an ice bucket, two punnets of strawberries and a tube of chocolate, as sold by most sex shops. Dinner, it seemed, was on him, literally and it looked as if Heidi had a sweet tooth.
"You will forgive me the slightly bizarre, I am sure. It is something I have always wanted to do, so, why not?" Her spoken English was very good, with only a trace of the German accent to it.
She had him lay on top of the bed while she smeared chocolate all over his chest, abdomen and groin, paying special attention to his groin. In a perverse way, Robert found the cool chocolate acted as a salve and felt really quite nice. Heidi arranged several strawberries over the top of the chocolate, placing them with care and making sure they adhered by twisting them a little. Once she had them placed, she stepped back to admire her handiwork. It gave Robert a chance to see her body properly. He thought she was okay, if a little on the larger size, but proportioned well. Her pierced tits were heavy, but not hugely so that they sagged. Her waist was nicely narrow before it flared out to her hips. Her mons was covered by the gusset of the body stocking and her legs, probably her best feature, were nice and slender, without being skinny.
And then her tongue went to work, licking up the chocolate, starting from just below his throat and gradually working her way downwards. The strawberries placed strategically, were eaten, one by one, slowly and with as much eroticism as she could possible muster.
It was very pleasurable, feeling her hot tongue lapping at his skin, nibbling off the strawberries and making sure that anything under them also got nibbled or licked. She bit his nipples gently, holding them between her teeth as they hardened. As she progressed down his torso, licking off the chocolate and eating the strawberries, so his interest made its self felt in the hardening of his cock, which twitched several times in arousal.
At last, she got to his now, quite stiff, member. Holding a piece of the fruit between her lips, she pushed it into her mouth, using his engorged cock as a push rod.
"Mm." She purred as the fruit was pushed to the back of her throat. She made a show of swallowing it while holding him in her mouth. Somehow, Robert had to keep control. It wouldn't do to blow a load just yet.
She had sucked the chocolate off of his cock and noisily swallowed that too in a theatrical way.
"Do you like chocolate Robert?"
"Um. Yes. Sure."
"And, how about strawberries?" She had a sly look in her eye. Something had occurred to her as an idea.
She grabbed the tube of chocolate and squirted it over his cock, making sure it was completely covered. Then, with her fingers, she opened a slit in the body stocking he hadn't noticed before. She placed a strawberry between her pussy lips and again, used his cock as a ramrod; she pushed the fruit into her body and slipped down on him.
"What about the pips? Won't they get stuck?" Robert was concerned that they would become lodged.
"We'll deal with that later." She told him, closing the subject.
Not content with one berry, she repeated the process several times until she had five or six of the pip covered fruits inside her pussy. The chocolate had become smeared all over her hairless lips and strawberry pulp leaked out in small globules.
She spun around and sat on his face, demanding that he eat her out. Robert, thinking this to be just about as erotic as anything he had done before, stuck his tongue out and sucked as hard as he could to pull the fruit and chocolate out of her. Heidi squealed in delight and started to grind her hips rhythmically, smearing chocolate and fruit all over his face.
The pips caught between his teeth, but it didn't faze Robert. He lapped and sucked at her until all he got was her female cream as she climaxed. She giggled at the sheer debauchery and decadence of the act.
"And now, for the champagne." She announced and grabbed the cooling bottle from the ice bucket. The cork flew up, hitting the ceiling and frothy bubbles spilled out of the neck to splash over Robert, making him shiver at the sudden coldness. She gulped down a mouthful and then held the next in her mouth while she pushed his head between her lips. The coldness made his cock wince a little, but the massage of bubbles felt delicious. His hardness was becoming uncomfortable, it had been some time that he had held his erection.
But, relief wasn't going to come immediately. Heidi sat on the bottle, pushing the neck into her and then falling backwards on to the bed. The dark green bottle was far too big to go very far, but she managed a good few inches of the neck. She jiggled the bottle, forcing it deeper and agitating the contents until her pussy was overcome with the gaseous liquid that was expelled, under a significant force, spraying Robert and the bed in a tsunami of white foam, soaking both.
"That's how we will deal with the pips." She laughed and then said, "Now you get to screw me Robert. Please?"
He slid over to her, parting her knees with his and knelt with his cock at her entrance. He noticed the two small gold rings she had through her labia and wondered how he had missed them before.
She was quite loose from the expansion that champagne had caused and was of course, very wet indeed. It made things just that much easier. Robert slid into her and fucked her in a strong rhythm, using his entire length in long smooth strokes. The bottle slipped from her fingers and hit the floor, leaking what was left over the carpet. Neither of them noticed.
At last, he was ready to cum, and almost pulled out of her, but at her insistence and being pulled back into her with a vice like grip of her legs, feet locked behind his back, he shot his seed deep into her again and again while she hit her orgasm, delighting in the pulse of him deeply within her.
The bed was totalled. Chocolate, strawberry mush and champagne had seen to that.
She called room service and they showered while the maid service cleaned up. Robert finger fucked her standing up under the hot water and then she returned the favour, sucking him off until he came in her mouth. She pushed his sperm out slowly between her lips, allowing the cascading water to wash it away.
"That was fun Robert. Thank you." She said as he was leaving. She went on tip toes and kissed his cheek before closing the door on his retreating back.
Robert felt much lighter than he had for several days. It had been a fun evening. His sense of value was somewhat restored, adding a skip to his step.
His day was completely made up when he heard the message left by Elizabeth, asking him to call her back. He left a message on her voice mail.
The cheque arrived on the following Tuesday, four hundred pounds, which, after commission, was one hundred more than the usual fee. A note from Amber asked what significance the strawberries and chocolate had.
Elizabeth returned his call. She invited him to the races as her Escort. It was outside of the Agency, but Robert didn't care. The chance to see Elizabeth was far too good to pass up.
Their day at the races turned out to be quite lucrative. Elizabeth had been given a tip for a rank outsider in the third race. She had one hundred pounds put on it at forty to one. Robert afforded only fifty pounds. It romped home by six lengths. Only those in the know cheered, none louder than Elizabeth who jumped up and down excitedly as the winning post got closer.
“Let’s celebrate”. She said, after they had collected their winnings from an unhappy trackside bookmaker who shelled out six thousand pounds to the happy couple. “I know a fantastic little restaurant in Weybridge.”
She gave the directions to her chauffer as they slipped into the back of the Rolls Royce parked in the member’s car park.
Robert gazed at her, taking in her loveliness. Flushed with her success, her cheeks were quite ruddy which perfectly complemented the simple jersey dress she wore. It stretched and clung to her body, accentuating her shape. A pearl necklace of three strands was her only other ornament. Her make-up, as usual, was lightly done with subtle hints and shades that highlighted her cheek bones. Her eye shadow was almost the same colour as her skin, just enough of a contrast to be noticeable. Her comeliness took his breath away and stole any words he had from his mouth.
The restaurant was indeed a fine place, carrying two Michelin stars to its name. Elizabeth chattered on, her excitement had not abated at all. It was so unlike their previous engagements, Robert didn’t know really, what to say. He was content to allow her to flit from subject to subject while he drank in her face and drowned in emotion.
Eventually, she noticed that his responses were less than garrulous. She wrinkled her brow, tilted her head a little and asked “Are you okay Robert?”
It was an almost comical expression.
“What? Oh yes, miles away and happy to listen to you.”
“You’re very quiet, is anything wrong? Concern wrinkled her brow even more and made him smile.
You’ll get stuck like that.” His smile broadened. How could he tell her that he loved her, totally? How could he, someone who had next to nothing, other than the working parts of his body, to offer her? Someone who screwed women for money, just a cheap whore really?
Perhaps his emotions and thoughts were transparent, she knew straight away, now that she had calmed down that the look Robert was studying her with was not one of mild curiosity. She leaned back in her chair opposite him with the table and remnants of their meal between them as an effective barrier.
“We need to talk Robert, but not here.” She waved the waiter over and settled the bill. With nothing more said, she rose from the table, expecting Robert to follow her lead.
They got into the car silently with only her telling the chauffer “Home”.
Shortly, they were driving through the security gates to Saint Georges Hill Estate. Robert dully took in the houses and mansions that populated the exclusive real estate built around one of the best golf courses in the country. Her red-brick home had its own gravel drive in a U shape behind a copper beech hedge that was just big enough to hide the house from the road. The front lawn and shrubbery was immaculate.
“I won’t need you anymore today Frank”. She told the driver. The car moved off, tyres crunching on the gravel, leaving them at the steps to the front sandstone portico entrance. The door was not locked.
Polished wood panelling formed the entrance hall. A light oak stair spiralled up in a sweeping arch from centre of the flagstone floor of the entrance hall, up to the first level and out of sight. She dropped her bag on the occasional table that lent against the right side of the ornately worked hall.
She walked toward a door in the panelling, again, expecting him to follow. The drawing room was also panelled, but using white ash rather than the oak of the entrance hall. It made the room bright. A huge inglenook fireplace in red brick and a huge piece of oak as an over mantle dominated the room with a cast iron grate on top of the hearth, which was also of brick. The floors were polished light oak. The furniture looked almost accidental, but was obviously chosen to compliment the room. She sat on the green leather chesterfield and patted the space beside her.
“Robert...” She began. Her eyes bored into his with a steady gaze. “... I told you once, not to fall in love with me. Do you remember that?”
“Yes.” He nodded as if to reinforce his affirmation, but his heart thumped in his chest. This was a moment of truth with a dubious outcome and his uncertainty was clearly evident.
“I meant it Robert, my life does not allow for affairs of the heart.” Her eyes softened.
“We are not so dissimilar you and I. We are both playing a part, you as a male escort and me as a trophy wife. Neither of us is supposed to have feelings or emotions, just be part of the trappings and providing a service.” She turned slightly and took his hands in hers. “My husband and I have been married nearly ten years now. In all that time, he has never once touched me. We have separated bedrooms, separate lives even. He prefers the company of men, but for decorum’s sake and the honour of the family, married me. We pretend to be the perfect couple socially, but nothing could be further from the truth. I shut up my feelings a long time ago and mostly drift from day to day with nothing more in my head than what to wear.”
He rubbed his thumbs over the back of her hands, just a small gesture of soothing.
“Elizabeth... I know I am supposed to be dispassionate and all that. Mostly, I can be and have been in my short career, but then I met you. I can’t forget how you cried in my arms in Paris. You sobbed as if your heart was broken and you seemed so alone. I wanted to be there for you, protect you and love you. You were like a perfect bird in my arms, frightened and helpless and I just wanted to protect you.”
“In another life, that would be perfect.” She withdrew her hands from his and got up. “We cannot go on like this Robert. It was a mistake on my part, to call you again and I am sorry for that. I think it best that we not meet again, it is too painful.” She turned away from him and faced the fire place. “I’ll call you a cab to take you home.” Her shoulders hitched a little. “I’m sorry Robert.”
He saw and heard her distress. Before he knew it, he had risen and grasped her in his arms, turning her to face him. Her tear filled eyes rose to meet his. He kissed her full on the lips, pulling her body into him. “I love you.” He murmured into her mouth. “I love you so much.”
“Don’t.” She tried to say, but his mouth covered hers. Her will power fell away at his embrace. She gave into him and held him as tightly as he held her.
Later, when they had made desperate love on top of her bed and lay naked, holding one another, Elizabeth, soaked his chest with her tears while he stroked her head smoothing her hair gently with his finger tips. He didn’t know where this was going to go from here, but he knew he wanted her in his life. His own doubts clouded any rational thinking. What could he give, other than his love? Their sex was amazing, filled with passion and tenderness, but if that was all he had, then he knew it wouldn’t be enough.
Eventually, she dozed, still with her head on his chest. He felt her relax gradually and become heavier. He may not be able to bring much, but this was all he wanted. Just to have her in his arms was enough for now. Still worried, he fell asleep.
It was much later when he woke. It was full dark outside. He wondered what the time was but didn’t want to wake her to look at his watch. Elizabeth was snoring slightly, her hair tousled, lay across his shoulder, obscuring her face with a haze of blonde. Robert felt a physical ache just looking at her. It hurt to take her in, to feel so at ease, but at the same time, knowing that it would end when she woke.
As if she knew he was watching her, her eyes opened, she regarded him, silently, giving nothing away, her usual professional demeanour stared back at him.
“What are we going to do Robert?” She searched his face as if looking for the answer. “Sooner or later, things will go bad between us and I couldn’t bear that.” She pushed up from his chest and turned her back as she sat on the edge of the bed.
He ran his finger tips up over her spine. She shivered and goose bumps arose on her skin.
“I don’t know Elizabeth. It is pretty much up to you what happens from here on. I don’t want to lose you, but you have more to lose than I do.” He got up from the bed and headed to the toilet.
“I need some time to think Robert. Can we leave it at that for now?”
She called him a cab which arrived after a ten minute wait. Nothing was said, the balance of the situation too delicate for very much for words. She kissed his cheek and opened the door for him. “I will call you. Take care.”
His goodbye was almost cut off with the closing of the door.
The next few days passed without a phone call. Robert worried that she wouldn’t call. With time on his hands to think, he realised that she had not told him how she felt. She hadn’t said she loved him and he began to convince himself that it was all him, all one sided. He didn’t have her number. He knew where she lived, but he wasn’t going to hang around the house in the hope that she would come out and see him, besides, the security on the gate wouldn’t allow him in.
Amber called him on Tuesday with his next assignment, planned for that weekend. He would be escorting one of her regulars to a party and to be ready by eight o’clock on Saturday evening. Dress was to be smart casual.
“So, you’re the wonder boy in Amber’s stud farm then are you?” He was still standing at the threshold of the door to the hotel room of his Saturday’s assignment. “Amber tells me you have boosted her business no end. I’m not surprised. Finding decent men to fill her books is never easy. Christ on a stick, finding a man of any sort is hard enough.”
Jean, for her age, was trim and carried a confident poise in her bearing. Her clothing was expensive, without being ostentatious or too obvious. She had spent a large part of the day n the beauty salon, getting ready for this evening’s soiree at Lady something or other’s garden party. Robert had chosen a simple blazer of slacks and an open necked shirt from his now, seam bursting wardrobe.
She picked up her purse, took his arm and waited while he opened the car door for her. She chatted on about this and that while he thought she was just another wealthy business woman, from a long chain of the same, who had made their career their lover.
The party passed Robert by. Being on duty, as it were, he limited himself to one glass of champagne and only nibbled at the array of treats being passed around by an army of waiters. And then, it was time to leave. He wasn’t sure that he could live up to the billing Amber had labelled him with and fretted a little on the way back.
Jean was quite tipsy. Fortunately, she was a happy drunk and giggled as she fumbled her pass at the electronic lock of her suite.
“I suppose you are going to take advantage of my drunkenness now, aren’t you?”
“Well, the thought had crossed my mind.” Robert fell into the role immediately. It was obviously her little foible and not an uncommon one, to be taken, defenceless, in her drunken condition, by a virile man. It was a role he had played before with minor variations. He stepped in close to Jean, invading her space and leaving no room in which to manoeuvre. He put his arms around her and deftly unzipped her dress while looking intently into her eyes, holding them captive while he undressed her. Then, as she stood in bra and panties, he grasped the back of her head, scrunching up her carefully manicured hair and kissed her mouth forcefully, taking her breath away. This was exactly what she had wished for. She melted in his arms and clung to him to stop herself from falling bonelessly to the floor.
He picked her up, realising that she weighed a lot less than he had thought. The steps to her bedroom were effortless. He dropped her on the bed and placed a flat palm on her chest in a silent instruction to stay exactly as she was until he allowed her to move. She stared as he efficiently removed his clothing and slipped a condom onto the bedside cabinet ready for later.
“What...” He put a finger to her lips, stopping any questions. It proved to be an effective gag and was just as insistent a command as if he had told her to keep quiet. Obediently, she lay on her back and made no move as he slipped her bra straps off her shoulders while his stare bored into her head. Her breasts, when they were finally free of their lacy prison, had just enough firmness to them, that they remained erect and pointed at him enticingly. He hooked his thumbs into the waist band of her panties and eased them over her hips and knees, then off over her feet.
He gripped one of her breasts and rubbed the nipple under his thumb, trapping it against the side of his hand. She made a little moue and gasped at the sudden stimulation. It hardened and darkened at his ministrations. He had not broken eye contact while he excited her teat. He placed his other palm on her stomach, just above her vee with just enough pressure to let her know it was there. Slowly and with consummate skill, he slowly touched her lips, parting them so that he could get to her clit with just a finger tip. Her legs opened just enough to allow the intrusion. Her back arched at his touch, an invitation to take her fully. Robert finger fucked her gently, but forcefully. He would not be denied his prize and there was nothing she could do about it.
She came noiselessly, a knuckle in her mouth to stop from crying out. Robert knelt up, taking his fingers from her moist pussy and pushed them into her mouth so that she could taste herself. Jean sucked at them like a drowning man might for air, savouring her own juices as they passed over her taste buds.
Again, he took hold of her head and with gentle by firm strength, pulled her mouth to his semi-hard cock. He didn’t give her a choice. She was to suck him while he finger fucked her again. She came a second time, much quicker and gasped around his cock between her lips. Satisfied that she was ready, Robert reached over for the condom, and then slipped between her knees which parted with no resistance. It was going to be the missionary position, but that was alright and allowed him to play with her nipples and coax her to yet another orgasm.
This time, her orgasm was not silent. She cried out as the waves crashed through her synapses and her body gave of its self, her own essences to mix with those of his. Robert came inside her and enjoyed the sensation more than he had for quite some time, closing his eyes as his ejaculate spurted over and over.
“Wow!” Was all she said.
They lay together for a while, cuddled replete, on top of the bed until Jean fell asleep. Quietly, Robert extricated himself, dressed and left her to her dreams. His mission accomplished.
Amber called him on Monday. Apparently, Jean had been on the phone full of his praises. The cheque was in the post with a little extra and perhaps, she should try the object of praise for herself. It was jokingly said, but Robert thought that, if he made the move, Amber would jump at the chance. He decided not to, things were complicated enough as it was without adding another to the equation.
That equation though, had a variable in it that he could not influence. Elizabeth never left his mind and he yearned for her call, but was disappointed each and every day.
Over the course of a month, Jean had engaged his services twice more without even the excuse of needing an escort to a function. She wanted him for sex and was quite brazen about it. Robert had to refuse a third liaison and explained to Amber that he thought Jean was getting hooked up on him. It was amber that had to break it to Jean, that it had run its course and Robert would not be available.
Before he knew it, it was Christmas, the middle of winter and Elizabeth still hadn’t called him. Six months had flown by, but the longing had not diminished. He was just getting used to the fact that she wouldn’t call again. The realisation altered his life a little. If he couldn’t have her, then almost any woman who hired his services would do. Amber was delighted by this turn around. Wasn’t it only a few months ago that he was full of self doubt? Now she had a young man willing to fuck anyone, almost, and most definitely was the star of her portfolio. She bought him a Rolex watch for Christmas. After all, he had earned it, several times over.
And then, another Christmas came. A whole year of Escort services had passed where he was out almost every weekend and a few weekdays in between. He had managed a holiday in the Costa Del somewhere and had celebrated his twenty eighth birthday. He had fucked his way through a whole year and had lost count but made more than enough money in the bargain. Amber and he decided to go out for dinner on Christmas Eve, somewhere swanky and expensive. It might not have been an engagement, but both knew they would end the night, locked in each other’s bodies. It was a satisfying night and both had got what they wanted from the coupling. Amber had wondered what her clients were enthusing about and was pleasantly surprised that Robert could play her body until she gasped and writhed under him. Robert enjoyed her and satisfied a mild curiosity about how she looked under her clothing.
He spent Christmas day with his parents. He was dismayed to see how frail his father had become and realised that he would not be around for very much longer. His mother seemed as robust as ever, but would probably crash when dad died. He would try and be there for her, she would need him as a crutch he knew.
He got home Boxing Day with the mortality of his parents on his mind. The flat, newly bought from the proceeds of his profession, was silent and cold as he closed the front door behind him. Suddenly, as if running into a wall, Robert felt desperately lonely. It hit him with no warning. He wailed forlornly and sank to his knees as tears soaked his cheeks. The realisation that, apart from screwing untold women and having Amber as his agent, he was completely alone, with no-one he could talk to or love or just be a part of. What friends he had had, were all gone now, too many times he had dates that coincided with their plans for parties and get togethers. He hadn’t spoken to Lucy, his ex-girlfriend, for eighteen months now. She was in the process of planning her wedding the last time he saw her and was deliriously happy. He envied her now, but hadn’t at the time. He could not see a future that involved anyone else. He had nothing to look forward to and that is what hit him the hardest.
Amber picked up on the third ring and realised immediately, that there was something terribly wrong. Twenty minutes later, he was in her arms sobbing. She had driven over, breaking several traffic laws in the process and left her bewildered boyfriend without explanation.
Somehow, between sobs, Robert poured out his heart to Amber, telling her about his parents, Lucy and the sense of loss he had. He told her of his love for Elizabeth and just how lonely he was. She soothed and comforted and shared a bottle of scotch with him until he settled down to sleep at last. Then she broke several more traffic laws in driving home with a plan in her head.
“Robert, I have an assignment for you, a New Year’s bash on the Thames. My client wishes to meet you at the boat at nine thirty. Are you up for it? I know its short notice, but she is desperate. Will you do this for me?”
Nine thirty on the thirty first of December found him standing on the pontoon at Westminster Pier. The river cruiser was already packed with revellers. The drinks had been flowing for more than an hour and the beat of music bounced off the rippling river surface and echoed off the embankment wall.
He glanced at his watch, wondering if his mark was going to be fashionably late. It is one of his pet hates, something he saw as just plain rude and disrespectful. Robert looked up from his watch, up the ramp towards the pavement and there she was.
Elizabeth stood clutching her purse, wearing a draped, electric blue dress with a cross over plunge neckline and the front gathered at the front so that the hem line was drawn up to around mid thigh. Robert’s jaw dropped. If it was possible, she looked even more beautiful than the last time he had seen her. His heart lurched and those emotions, he had desperately tried to cover up, came to the surface in an overwhelming wave. He swallowed a hitch in his throat and didn’t dare speak or move in case he suddenly began to cry.
Elizabeth walked down the ramp towards him, her face a study of concentration. She neither smiled nor gave any kind of emotion just a steady gaze into his eyes as she approached him, her heels clicking on the safety surface.
“Hello Robert, are you working?”
“Um... I was supposed to be meeting Cristal at nine thirty.” Involuntarily, he glanced at his watch, but didn’t really register the time showing on the face. “I guess she is late.”
“Tonight, I am Crystal and I am never late Robert. Shall we?” She grasped his arm and led towards the landing platform of the river cruiser.
The cruiser powered up to Chelsea Bridge and then all the way down the Thames to the flood barriers at Woolwich before turning around and returning upstream to Westminster Pier just in time for the countdown to two thousand and eleven. Neither of them noticed the passing city-scape or the chill of the December night as they sat, away from the party, at the prow of the cruiser and talked.
Robert, although he meant to keep his feelings covered, found himself telling her of his desperation over the last eighteen months. How he had tried to replace his emotions by throwing himself into his work and failing miserably. Instead, he had sunken into a kind of depression that even his holiday to Costa Del whatever had not relieved. Elizabeth listened intently, offering sympathetic murmurs and gestures as he spilled out his heart.
All too soon, the cruiser made berth and the chimes of Big Ben heralding the New Year. They walked arm in arm with no particular direction, avoiding the, mostly drunk revellers who sought to make their way home by whatever means they could.
Few places were open, but the McDonalds in The Strand were still serving. Robert and Elizabeth found a seat and drank the awful coffee and stared at each other, their thoughts held in check, conversation had ground to a halt temporarily where emotions were just too raw to dare sharing thoughts. The silence stretched while the coffee coagulated in the Styrofoam cups.
“Amber called me.” Elizabeth broke the spell. “I wasn’t sure you would see me, it’s been so long.” She searched his face, trying to read his expressions and waited for him to respond.
“Amber has been good to me. I guess I have been good for her business. She did her best to look after me. I’ve been a bit of a mess I suppose.” He glanced away and looked at his feet. “I’ve missed you so much Elizabeth, so much.” He didn’t dare look up to see her reaction, fearing that she might recoil, but knowing he needed to tell her how he felt. He needed to bare his soul while he had the chance. “I love you Elizabeth and I can’t help it.”
Elizabeth was silent and sat still on the opposite side of the table. Her stare studied the top of his head where he would not look up. She waited and the silence stretched out for several minutes until he at last looked into her eyes. She could see his fear. Feel his pain and was very aware of the effort he was making to keep himself in check.
“I had an abortion you know.” She didn’t know why she told him, hadn’t thought about it before she spoke. “My husband made me. He forced me to go to a clinic to abort a child. We split soon after that. I was no longer needed. He replaced me with another bimbo.” She stared at him steadily.
Robert realised that, up until now, they had talked solely about him and how he had been miserable, by comparison, his ordeals palled into insignificance and he suddenly felt very selfish.
“Oh Elizabeth, I am so sorry to hear that. I’m sorry, I’ve been bleating on about my problems and all the while you have suffered worse, much worse.” He reached across the table and gripped her hand as if to reinforce his concern.
“I always knew I was a trophy wife and that my time of sitting on the throne had a limited life span, but I thought having a child would have altered things. I thought, perhaps, that he might settle down, might even grow to love me. I was wrong on so many counts. He forced me to have the abortion, threatening to throw me out and cut me off completely. I suppose I knew that it wasn’t going to be forever so had saved some money in a private account. It isn’t much, but with the allowance he gives me, I am getting by and I have a job now.”
“A job, doing what? I can’t imagine you working”
“I’m not screwing my way through life Robert.” She said defensively. “I’m PA’ing for a magazine editor, someone I’ve known forever. He took pity on me and gave me a job. Bob is a real treasure.”
Robert was suitably stung and apologised. “It’s just that I believed you to be above working for a living. You are so beautiful, so regal even, that I didn’t think.”
“Being a trophy wife is very much like working for a living Robert. You can’t slip up in anyway. Appearance, manner, even playing host and geisha girl to his cronies is no different to being a secretary or something. The worst is being shared with his business friends and clients. It was one of those who got me pregnant. You at least, have the luxury of choosing who you screw. I didn’t have that choice and what’s worse, he enjoyed watching me and god help me if I didn’t please. He beat me if he didn’t get the deal.” She shrugged her shoulders as if throwing off a coat. “Let’s get out of here.” She stood, not waiting for Robert to agree.
Robert hailed a cab and gave directions to his apartment.
Later, when they had drunk a glass of wine and told each other of the last eighteen months, came the moment where by mutual agreement made by silent recognition that talking had run its course for now. That their stories had rubbed emotions to a raw state and the solace of physical act would begin the healing process.
They made love. Not an animal coupling of wild desire. No master and mistress scenario. No tricks, just a coming together of two people, too long denied the freedom of expression, too long guarding their emotions and too long alone in a busy world.
Elizabeth cried when they eventually lay back exhausted. She cried and then sobbed into Robert’s arms, the release all too much to be held inside. Robert found himself crying, tears tracking over his cheeks. At last, he was able to give his heart and know that it had found a home, where it belonged.
Robert shoved the pushchair around the supermarket while Adam toddled in front of him, the reins of his harness attached to the handle, his sister gurgled happily in the crib of the walker. The two children had come quickly. Adam was almost three and had already adopted the same regal aloofness of his mother, but his looks were pure Robert. Eveline was fair and would probably grow to look like Elizabeth. The choice of names had been careful. The children were a new beginning to their lives, Adam and Eveline was a perfect choice.
Frozen peas and a packet of sweetcorn hit the bottom of the trolley Elizabeth was pushing. They briefly discussed the merits of frozen fish, coated in breadcrumbs and decided against it.
Saturday shopping was becoming a ritual, a family thing, simple, but so enjoyable. Perhaps a mundane activity, but nothing they did together could be construed as humdrum.
Robert was now a minor executive for a music publishing house, promotion was within his grasp. Although he hadn’t completed his degree, his knowledge of historical music and the easy manner he had while explaining the concepts had impressed his boss. That and his natural good looks had struck a chord with Jacqueline, who blushed a little during his interview. Her thoughts were held private, to her credit, but her reactions of crossing and uncrossing her legs signified her attraction to him. Robert, although aware, ignored it. He was happy and then delighted that he got the job. Eveline was the result of their celebration.
He kept in touch with Amber, but withdrew his services as an escort. She understood, but several of her regular clients would have preferred he stayed. Their combined generosity at his wedding was overwhelming and unexpected. Amber’s wedding present of a car had been more than generous, but the choice showed her sense of humour. A shiny red Ford Escort stood outside in the car park. Amber had accepted the role of God Parent to Adam and would likely do the same for Eveline.
The grandparents somehow continued to cling to this mortal coil. Perhaps the delight of the children gave them a second lease of life. They instantly loved Elizabeth when she and Robert visited to announce their intention to marry. Robert’s dad even flirted a little and surprised them all.
Elizabeth was shortly to return to work following her maternal break. They would have liked for her to stay at home, but their finances were getting depleted rather too quickly. Her income was necessary.