It is the roaring 1920s and how is an upper class young woman who loves the high life to make a living which will pay all her bills? Lotte has found a solution.
Charlotte Hardy-Worthitt believed that even if a girl is flat on her back, she can still stand tall. She had been told that she had been orphaned when very young and that her unmarried uncle had taken her in and become her guardian although she nursed a slight suspicion that she may have been the result of one of her uncle’s wild oats with a woman long disappeared.
Like most girls of her class, the young Charlotte (Lotte) had been packed off to boarding school which is usually a make or break experience. In Lotte’s case, it had been an excellent launch pad; successful boarders learn to be resourceful and resilient as well as being taught all the social graces so useful for making one’s way in society.
Back in History the family had been wealthy but various family members had long ago either gambled away the family fortune or lost it in dubious business deals and there would be no inheritance from Uncle Chas because his life was entirely funded by running various cons and talking people into giving him credit. However, it was to his credit that he had managed to keep Lotte at school until a year before she turned 18.
All of this means that my gentle reader will be wondering how Lotte had managed to live for twelve months since leaving school and also how she came to be dressed like an heiress and sipping a cocktail in a fashionable bar in Mayfair in June 1920. These questions will soon be answered.
A tall man in a slightly unfashionable black suit strode briskly towards Lotte and she leapt to her feet to greet him. Standing on tiptoe, she threw her arms around his neck.
“Lovely to see you Dimitri, bang on time as usual.”
Outside, he hailed a cab and Lotte asked the driver to take them to Dolphin Square. She did not usually take clients to her flat but Dimitri was special. Once inside her flat, Lotte poured a glass of Vodka which Dimitri knocked back in one gulp and then he was upon her and she could barely keep upright as they stumbled into the bedroom. Her flapper dress was soon off revealing her peach colored teddy (all in one top and knickers) and stockings which were held up by suspenders attached to the flexible girdle beneath the teddy.
When Russia sent its diplomats abroad they were never allowed to bring their families with them. Lotte found it amusing that the Leninist regime was such a worker’s paradise that it had to use hostages to ensure that its people returned home. This situation meant that Soviet officials abroad had to find ways of satisfying their basic needs.
Dimitri had clawed off her teddy in his urgent rush to access her haven of pleasure and her dark triangle of enticement was now on full display. Dimitre was almost salivating as he told her to take off her Bandeau Bra. This was basically a wide bandage which kept Pip and Squeak flat as was the fashion. When Lotte stripped off the restraint her neat, pert breasts sprang to attention. Lotte lived quite an athletic life so she was in perfect condition and her pectoral muscles gave her all the support which she needed; her nipples were now pointing straight at Dimitri who was shedding his clothing as fast as possible and applying a French Letter (rubber condom).
He wasted no time in pushing her down onto the bed with him on top. His tongue was flailing her face and breasts as if he were an enthusiastic Labrador and his erect manhood was lining up to assault the castle which it did with all the might of the Red Army. Lotte was in no way overwhelmed by his action which she found invigorating and she responded loudly as she clasped him to herself and raised her hips to match his thrusting.
Dimitri’s first attempt was always the most violent but he took her again and again and she reveled in his attentions. Lotte did not have to simulate her response to him for she needed this as much as her client did and she felt that he got more than his money’s worth. She was fairly sure that Dimitri somehow claimed on his employers for these sessions; she was probably officially, his agent and the Soviet people were paying handsomely for what she supplied.
Later, as they lay side by side with arms around each other’s naked bodies, Dimitri did what he always did which was to use Lotte as his confidante. It would be impossible for him to speak honestly to anyone at the embassy about his true frustrations with his work and everyone needs someone to whom they can offload their worries and pressures. Lotte was an excellent listener and every tart knows that the job is part social worker and part counsellor. She was full of admiration for the way that he managed to serve his cause despite the petty interference of the Western reactionaries in her own state.
“Do tell, Dahling; I love hearing how you are so clever at getting around our flatfoots.”
The moment that Dimitri was out of the door, Lotte rushed to her desk and wrote down everything which he had said and then she picked up the telephone and dialed a Whitehall number from memory; she recognized the voice which answered and she delivered her brief message.
“Hello Dahling. You can buy me dinner tonight and bring one of those little bundles of banknotes, I’ve got something for you.”
Lotte had no idea of what department Claud worked for but she knew that, technically, he was a captain in the Royal Navy although he had confessed that he did not know one end of a battleship from the other. He treated her to a wonderful smoked salmon dinner at the Army and Navy Club with only the very best wine and, as was their routine, after dinner they went upstairs. Strictly speaking Claud was paying for Russian pillow talk and not for the use of Lotte’s girly works but he was a useful contact and it paid to keep him on side.
Claud was a sensitive and caring lover. His wife was extremely conventional and unadventurous so Lotte gave him a wide repertoire. She lay between his legs and licked all around and behind his balls before moving up his shaft and teasing the glans with cheeky little flicks of her tongue which made him cry out and quiver violently. As her tongue moved up his body, her delicate and skilled fingers worked on his shaft. She was patient and careful not to bring him off too soon. When he could stand being tantalized no more, he rolled on top of her and thrust into her like a torpedo going down a tube. He actually yelled,
“Fire One”.
It seemed that, as a submarine captain, he was quite poor at aiming as he needed repeated shots at his target. And, all the while, he was holding Lotte in a bearhug as if he were scared of losing her. Lotte found that odd thoughts popped into her mind at times such as this and she wondered whether there was a medal for fucking in the National Interest. She supposed that the citation would have to be carefully worded, “In the finest traditions of The Service.”
Claud and Lotte slept the night in their bed at his club. His wife knew that he often had to remain in London all night on secret work of national importance and Claud said that he believed she found it a relief when he was away. They did not breakfast together as Claud thought that being seen in the dining room so obviously post coital was one step too far so they parted and Lotte enjoyed a hearty breakfast at a little place she knew. After breakfast, she returned home for to get herself together and her morning was lazy and selfish but a girl must earn a living and her rent was due.
Lotte took a cab to Dorset Square which is surrounded by large Georgian houses in Portland Stone but she did not climb the impressive steps to the front door. Instead, she descended the concrete steps which took her to the basement level and the servant’s entrance. She gave two sharp rings on the doorbell and the door was opened by a huge man with no neck. Lotte greeted him with a “Hello Albert Dahling” and was soon in a small office full of cigarette smoke where a middle aged woman was working at a desk.
“Where you bin? I ain’t seen you for a week.”
“Been busy Dahling but now I need rent money so I have to work.”
On the wall beside Gracie was a board filled with those little paper envelopes which one finds in the front of library books. Some of these contained colored cards and Gracie handed a card to Lotte who made a face.
“Lord Rutland! You know he’s a pig.”
“Girls who don’t work regular hours take what they can get.”
The card gave full details of the job including the booked time so Lotte spent an hour drinking in the girl’s lounge before going to the room set out as a schoolroom with desks and a blackboard. It was not long before Lord Rutland made his entrance – no, not THAT entrance, that would come later.
He was aged in his sixties and overweight. He had so many rolls of fat at his neck that he appeared to have about five chins. What he could not do were original lines.
“You know that you have been a very bad girl, Constance.”
“Yes Sir.”
Lotte had been caned at school and, for some deep reason, it always got her worked up which is a bit embarrassing when you know that the pedagogue who is punishing you can see the girly bits getting all wet and shiny.
He told her that the punishment would be carried out with her naked at which Lotte expressed the level of shock and embarrassment which she knew her client craved. He stood very close to her as she disrobed completely and he walked around her with his eyes feasting on her perfect, small body.
She was ordered to bend over a chair with her hands pressed flat to the seat and her legs wide apart so that the view from the rear was rather reminiscent of a mare ready to be mounted. Rutland spent a while lecturing her on the evils of sin – some lines had come straight from a speech which he had given in the House of Lords. And then he picked up a cane and placed it on her behind to mark his target.
When the first stroke landed, Lotte yelped and one foot came off the floor. This brought a severe rebuke from Rutland (which was the smallest and least significant county in England). The strokes came at regular intervals alternating between buttocks and none of Lotte’s pained responses were fake. The thrashing went on and on and Lotte had to remind herself that she was a professional who had done this before and was well within her pain tolerance.
When His Lordship had exhausted himself to the extent that his rate of respiration was worryingly high, he ordered her to stand up with her hands on her head. Once again, he walked around her, inspecting every inch of skin and every crease. His hand caressed her face and he inserted his fingers into her mouth to emphasize the point that he could do whatever he wished. Then the hand was exploring her pubic bush and going between her thighs where he painfully pinched her labia causing her to emit a little scream. His response to this was to do it again but harder. As she stood there exposed and vulnerable, he pushed his fingers into her vagina and had a little feel around. An evil little beast inside Lotte’s mind said, “If you find any loose change, it’s mine”. But she did not speak the words aloud.
Rutland was announcing that he was going to have to fuck her; he made it sound like an odious duty. Lotte accepted her sentence and promised that she would be ever such a good girl. The English nanny and school system has seriously fucked up its entire upper class.
He made her bend over the chair again and he came up behind her, freeing his little chap from his flies and slipping on the protective. He pressed her back downwards with his open palm and she felt him fumbling for her cunt before he rammed in with an animal grunt. At the same time he was groping a breast in each hand and digging his fingers painfully into her soft flesh; later she would have little finger shaped bruises. He rammed several times into her and then she felt him withdraw and she looked over her shoulder to see him holding onto a desk for support.
He made her stand facing a corner with her hands on her head while he got himself sorted out and then left the room. As soon as he was gone, Lotte massaged her painful breasts and ran her fingers gently over the raised ridges on her behind. She debated trying to get onto the evening shift for any trade which turned up but she knew that quite a few girls came in for the evenings. In the end, she decided to return home for a long scented bath.
After a pleasant afternoon, Lotte decided to make a social call. Although Lotte’s upbringing with Chas had been somewhat unconventional, he was the only family which she had and one must go home sometimes so Lotte took a cab to Shaftesbury Avenue and walked down an alley beside a theatre then climbed the iron fire escape up the side of the building to the first floor at the back. This little flat was where Chas was currently evading his creditors.
He looked in great good health and he opened his front door with a whisky glass in his hand. Lotte gave him a big embrace and kissed the tip of his nose. She joined him in a glass of Scotch and they chatted about life in general. Chas was in the middle of a stock market Ponzi scheme which was going to revive his fortunes – of course it was. When the drinks were finished there was no need for discussion on what would follow. They made their way into his bedroom and both began shedding clothing.
Under the bedcovers, their two bodies fitted together perfectly. There was no need to rush for they had plenty of time for gentle pecks and stroking. The sex flowed naturally; Chas was like an old, hand crafted Rolls Royce while Lotte was like a red sports car and yet they seemed to compliment each other. They slipped between fucking, dozing and then fucking some more after all, Chas had taught her everything she knew.