This is kind of a taster of what will expand into my autobiography, if you wish to make a comment please do.
Holly
*****
I was in my second year at University College London, studying PPE. I’d found the first year hard, struggling to keep up with the course and the expense of living in London. As the end of the first semester of the second year approached, I was really in trouble, academically and financially.
My flatmate Zoe always seemed to have plenty of cash, and some very nice clothes. One day, just after the first Christmas adverts had finished before yet another anodyne yet artistically gritty Northern soap opera started on the TV, I asked her how she managed.
“It’s simple,” she replied “I accompany men to events for a fee.” It took a few moments for the penny to drop.
“You mean, you’re an escort?” I was genuinely shocked, she was, my flatmate was, a…a prostitute! She knew exactly what I had thought, her eyes narrowed.
“Shame on you Holly Eliza Jordan, I do not,” and she really emphasised the ‘not’, “fuck men for money.”
“I’m sorry Zoe, but you just told me…”
“Holl, you stupid cow, I said I go to events; dances, dinners, gala dinners even sometimes. I do lunches, but I sure as fuck, do not, do breakfast.”
Her passionate response shamed me, and I quickly back-pedalled.
“I’m sorry, Zo, but y’know, it does happen.”
“Not to me you stupid bitch, what do you think I am?” She went into her room, slamming the door behind her.
I watched Netflix; Pretty Woman. Richard Gere looking devastatingly handsome and Julia Roberts as the hapless whore.
It didn’t help.
Next morning Zoe was still angry with me. This wasn’t good, normally we’d have a disagreement, about the cleaning rota, or who should put the bins out, or who’d had the last of the Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. It would be followed by a bottle of cheap wine and everything would be forgotten. But this had hit a raw nerve it seemed. I didn’t know what to do to heal the wound I’d opened. When Friday came around and the atmosphere was still colder than an outside toilet in Antarctica, I tried again.
“Zo, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You didn’t say anything, you thought it.” was her only response.
“Yeah, okay, but…” I let the next words hang, dangerously.
“Look, I have a hard enough time as it is, these men thinking I’m an easy lay, without you betraying me too.”
I didn’t have to try hard to look totally confused because I really was.
Confused, that is.
Zoe was pretty, that was undeniable; she was a tall, willowy, coffee coloured vision, possessing a self-confidence I could only dream of, backed up by real physical, I don’t know… hotness?
I guessed she didn’t like the chasm that had opened between us any more than I did.
“Look, Holl,” she said, it was early Friday morning, I had a tutorial at ten but my estrangement from her was far more important.
“Zo?” was my rather pathetic response.
“The guys I go with, I mean… escort. Look we don’t have sex, y’know? If they look like they can afford it, I might give them a hand-job, or…or even give them a blowjob.” She flushed red.
It still seemed bizarre to me, but I clutched at getting my Zoe back. She took a deep breath sitting at the table, a bowl of cornflakes in front of her, dressed in her pyjamas and told me about the agency that put her in touch with businessmen looking for company.
“Basically they provide arm-candy for rich visitors, mainly Chinese, but some Russian and Africans too.” She told me the fee she got from the agency, which would have paid the rent several month’s over for an evening of being pleasant to some guy, and that her clients could be generous too; buying her things she desired. Apparently she now had quite a substantial nest egg.
I genuinely didn’t know what to say to her. Was she a whore, or just a girl who made the best of her assets?
“Come and meet Alexandra, she runs the agency.” Zoe said.
So, later that afternoon I stood in front of a woman who had more than a passing resemblance to one of my dad’s favourite aunties. Her plump face had little laughter lines at the creases of her eyes, she had her blond her tied back into a severe ponytail and wore a black scoop-necked top, under a dark grey cardigan, hardly how I’d imagined the owner of an escort agency would dress. Alexandra looked at me dispassionately,
“Miss Jordan, do you know why you are here?”
“You’re looking for girls to accompany visitors to the city.”
“Yes in part, the girls must be bright, intelligent and good company, but there is often…more expected of them.”
I nodded, nervously.
“Stand up straight now, let me see you.”
She stood up from the swivel chair behind the desk, she wore a dark grey woollen skirt, knee length, expensively tailored, as was the matching jacket on a hanger behind her. Unexpectedly I noticed she had thick tights on. As she walked around the desk to come closer, I saw she wore flats. She walked around me a couple of times, like a judge at Cruft’s, assessing whether I was a possible champion, or a mongrel. I felt as though I was under the microscope of a researcher. Standing in front of me she said
“Open your mouth.”
I did, out of sheer surprise, as she obviously examined my teeth. She went behind her desk again, sat down, picked up a golden coloured pen and watched me for a few seconds. She seemed to make a decision.
“Take your clothes off.”
“What?” I asked, stunned.
“Take your clothes off, child. I wish to see you, not your… awful taste in cheap student clothes, so take them off.”
I was feeling totally insulted, degraded even, but I did as she said, bending down to unlace my trainers, I heeled them off before undoing my skinny jeans and stepping out of them. Finally I straightened and pulled the UCL sweatshirt off over my head. I stood in front of her, defiantly resisting the instinct to cover myself, in my plain white sports bra and unmatching Minnie Mouse logo’d panties, painfully aware that this was not a good look.
“Hmm, turn around,” she directed me, asking me to stand on one leg, bend over touching my toes, stretching my arms above my head, clasping my hands behind my back, and even kneeling on the carpet.
“Good, you may dress and be seated.”
I put my clothes on as quickly as possible, sitting on a hard plastic chair to finish tying my laces.
“Miss Jordan, you are a handsome young woman, you have no visible tattoos, which is good. Do you have any that I couldn’t see?”
“No.” I confirmed shaking my head.
“Good, I do not like my girls to have tattoos; so common. Do you have any piercings, apart from your ears? I can see those.” Again I shook my head.
“One or two body piercings are acceptable to our clientele, bear this in mind.” she said.
“Good bone structure, pretty good skin, flexible, nice long neck and well proportioned limbs and breasts. But you need to be more precise in removing your body hair, especially your pubic hair.” she seemed to be reading a mental checklist of my faults and I was getting pretty angry, then she dropped the bombshell;
“Now, we have to be a little intimate; to explore your sexual preferences and limits.”
This was totally unreal, I thought, but she continued inexorably.
“You are not a virgin?”
I shook my head, wondering just how far she would go.
“That’s a shame, how many sexual partners have you had?”
I thought, carefully.
“Four”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Were they long-term relationships, or one-night stands?”
“Two boyfriends, one, one-night stand, as you put it and one that didn’t last more than a couple of weeks.” I replied, trying to sound confident. Her next question shocked me.
“Any girls?”
I thought back to last New Year’s Eve, I’d broken up with my last proper boyfriend just before Christmas, and Zoe and I had gone down to the Embankment to watch the fireworks. We’d done the countdown and everybody was hugging and cheering, and Zo had kissed me, full on the lips, giving my boobs a squeeze at the same time. I hadn’t known what to do, other than kiss her back, pulling her in close to me. As the crowd surged around us we seemed to be in a cocoon of intimate silence, then somebody had jostled us and the moment was gone.
“No.” I said as firmly as I could.
“But you have thought of it, yes?” She seemed to know me better than I did.
“Maybe.” That seemed to satisfy her for now.
“Have you ever had more than one partner at a time, hmm? that’ll be a no.” she said answering her own question.
“How do you masturbate?” I wanted to be out of this room.
“We all masturbate Holly, do you use your hands, or do you have any toys?” She looked me directly in the eyes. I could feel an unbidden flush of embarrassment heating my cheeks.
“No toys.” I whispered softly, too scared to admit I had a special hairbrush. She smiled gently.
“Holly, I need to know these things so I can match you to the right client, you can see I’m not taking any notes, I just need to judge what is best for you and this agency.” I kind of understood, so I took a deep breath and sat upright, waiting for the next question.
“Do you enjoy sex?”
I nodded affirmatively.
“Okay, good, it is a sweet gift. So you’ve been in straight relationships, what are your views on oral sex?” She was going to force me to speak about sex, to see what I knew, or more likely, didn’t know. I thought about it, I couldn’t blush any redder, and I kind of trusted this woman, though god knows why.
“It’s nice, I feel I’m in charge if I’m giving it, and if I receive it, well, what’s not to like?” She smiled again, just a little upturn of her lips, but I found I wanted to see it more.
“Have you ever had anal sex?”
I was wrong, I could go redder. I could feel and hear the rush of blood in my ears as I tried to focus on Alexandra.
“Yes.”
“How was it?” Painful the first time, but Simon had been a considerate lover, he coaxed me into trying again, making sure I was ready for that invasion of my most intimate place, It turned out that I actually enjoyed it a lot, probably as a rebellion against my mother’s Catholicism and indoctrination that sex was a dirty necessity, not to be enjoyed. Also it helped that Simon hadn’t been particularly… big.
“I,… I liked it.” I admitted.
“That’s good, have you ever rimmed a man?” I didn’t understand what she meant.
“Rimmed?” I repeated. She smiled at me like she would at an innocent child, which at that point I guess I was.
“Licked around his anus, his arse dear.”
“No, never.” but Simon had done it to me often enough, funny how I never knew what it was called.
“Have you taken, or do you take, drugs of any kind?” I didn’t even smoke, but I had taken a few drags of weed once at a party; it had made me light-headed and nauseous, which is what I told her.
“Okay, that’s alright, some of your clients may offer you drugs, you are advised to politely refuse them.”
“Very well, that’s all good so far, now look at this picture, and tell me which order you would start in.”
I looked at the large A4 sized photograph she held up. It was a picture of a place setting, knives, forks, spoons, four different types of wine glass including a smaller port glass. I’d taken a summer job one year at a country house hotel that often put on formal dinners, weddings and so on, so I’d seen all this before. As i explained this to Alexandra, she nodded happily, and graced me with that little smile again.
“And how would you dress if invited to a function like this?” she asked.
“It depends on the invitation” I responded “Cocktail dress, evening gown if it’s a black tie event”
“How often do you wear heels?”
“Not very.” I replied, since that last Christmas, apart from an abortive date or two I hadn’t had a reason to get all dressed up.
“Very well Holly. You are a very attractive young woman who will fit in well with many of my clients. I can offer you a place on my books, however, first I want you to refine yourself a bit”. She looked at me, smiling reassuringly, then opened a drawer in her desk and took out a plain white business card which she handed to me.
“Giles has a small gymnasium here, he will be your personal trainer, you will see him every other day, starting on Monday. You need to lose a few kilos and tone up your muscles, also, you should review your bikini line, stray hairs are so very unattractive these days.” There was that hot red flush again.
“Giles will advise you on diet, exercise, deportment and dance. I will review your progress in this office in precisely twenty eight days time.” She drew another card out, coloured blush pink.
“Maria will give you a makeover, she really is very good; clothes, make-up and hair are her specialities, she will see you next Friday morning at ten.” This was all going way too fast now.
“If the review is satisfactory then the agency will pay you a minimum of one thousand pounds for each introduction we arrange.”
“Anything your client wishes to offer you as a gift is between you and your client. Each contract will specify the hours you are working for me, you will not perform any additional services for the client within those hours, other than acting as their companion. Do you understand that?”
I nodded.
“Giles and Maria are employed by the agency, they will not require you to pay them a fee. If, when we meet again, you or I do not wish to proceed I shall ask you to sign a non-disclosure agreement and you will never hear from me or the agency again. Fair?”
I nodded again in assent.
“Good, now I have another appointment shortly, you may leave. Goodbye.” I was dismissed.
It was starting to rain as I stepped onto the street. What on earth did you think you were doing Holl? I told myself I was going to get paid to be taken out, Alexandra had made it clear, I didn’t have to do anything else other than be arm-candy and provide distracting, witty conversation did I? Some nice clothes like Zoe had, a meal, maybe a show and home for hot chocolate and bed.
But whose bed?
Zoe never brought anyone back to the flat. I’d never even caught her doing the walk of shame, something I had done only a few months ago after a disappointing drunken one night stand with a Med student who, frankly didn’t know much advanced biology. I found myself on Oxford Street, all the shops garishly lit in the pre-Christmas frenzy of a retail orgy; tinsel, glitter and gaily wrapped boxes jostling with beautiful things. I stopped and looked in the windows of some clothes shop; gloriously flattering dresses hanging on anonymous white plastic bodies.
Could I, would I do it though? The startling response was Yes, if he was handsome, if I fancied him, if he made me laugh and feel comfortable, if he excited me, then yes I might possibly.
At the back of my mind though, a treacherous little worm awoke; if he offered me enough money, then yes, I definitely would.
By the time I got back to the flat the rain had turned into damp, penetrating sleet, the thick heavy clouds advancing dusk even earlier than normal. I climbed the communal staircase, unlocked the door and stepped inside. Zoe wasn’t there, probably at a tutorial or something. Hanging my wet coat up over the radiator to dry I went through to my room and switched on my laptop. As it went through its start-up cycle I went to make myself a cup of tea and some toast. When I came back I logged in. I needed to do some research.
Typing in the word ‘Escort’ into the browser filled my screen with ads, there were even Wiki guides on hiring and being an escort. There were abbreviations, GFE and OWO that had me baffled, until I thought to Google them. All the adverts had glamorous pictures of girls, men and transexuals even. I’d lived in London for nearly eighteen months and hadn’t really understood just how big an industry there was out there. I realised that I didn’t even know the name of the agency Alexandra ran, so I couldn’t look it up.
I went through several, looking to see if I could spot Zoe, but that didn’t come to anything. On about the fourth page the videos started to appear; escorts having sex. I clicked on one site; here, there were some obviously amateur films, maybe filmed in secret, and some more professional quality films, more like some of the porn films that I had seen before. I hesitated a moment, then clicked on one.
It showed a slim young blonde girl, dressed in black lingerie slowly gyrating, rather like a striptease act. The camera moved around her as she sat down, playing with herself; squeezing her nipples through her bra, and pulling her panties tight, exposing her sex.
She had a small triangle of hair above her vagina, but none around her lips. After a few minutes, she was joined by a handsome young man, dressed casually. He kissed her from behind as she backed into him, his hands rubbing her exposed breasts, pinching her nipples to hardness.
He was obviously in control of the action as he turned her around, dropping to his knees and nibbling her exposed buttocks before spreading them wide and licking her from her pussy lips all the way up to her arsehole, finally tonguing, rimming I remembered, her arse.
Then the film cut to him lying on his back as she rode his cock, bouncing up and down on it she was definitely providing a soundtrack for the viewer to know she was enjoying it. She seemed to have a couple of orgasms, the she climbed off him. Turning round she started sucking his cock, stroking the shaft and playing with his balls. I noticed then, that he too was hairless down there.
Somewhere along the way his clothes had vanished. With her head bobbing up and down the girl was still making noises of sexual enjoyment. Again the film cut to a different position; she had one hand against a full-length mirror as he took her from behind with her leg hooked up by an arm so the camera could see her being penetrated. She was looking in the mirror, looking him in the eyes, as she had done when giving him the blow-job.
I realised eye contact was going to be an important part of my new career. Again she seemed to orgasm a couple of times, then she was on her knees in front of him as he wanked himself, his sperm leaping the gap between his cock and her face. It looked like she enjoyed having it splash over her. I sat back and thought. Could I really enjoy doing this with a stranger?
I clicked on another film. This was obviously filmed in a hotel, I recognised the group logo on the room service menu on the bedside cabinet. A blonde woman entered the room in a silky red blouse and black miniskirt with fishnet tights. The voice of the man filming welcomed her and asked her to sit on the bed. They made small talk, her accent was foreign, maybe German. He asked her to take her blouse, then her skirt off, then carefully placing the camera down so it caught her on the bed he walked into shot. He had no clothes on, and his head never came into view.
She had a tight, well toned body, and I thought back to what Alexandra had said, maybe I did need to lose a few pounds. His cock was pressed up against her belly as they kissed, then she reached down, running her fingertips lightly over the full length of it as he placed his hand on her mound.
She was completely smooth down there, no hair visible at all. I have to say I was starting to like that look. A cut, and she was sitting on the bed, he was stood very close to her as she squeezed something from a tube onto her hands, then started to stroke his cock. I noticed she used both hands, kind of twisting them as they went up and his length. She too held his gaze, showing off her perfect white teeth in a big smile. As he got closer to cumming she pushed her breasts forward to catch the ejaculate. Finally, he must have picked the camera up as now you could see her leaning back, rubbing his spunk into her body. I heard Zoe call out.
“Holl, you home?”
“Yes, I’ll be out in a minute.”
I closed the lid of the laptop and went through to the living room.
“How’d you get on with Alexandra?” She asked.
“I’m not really sure, I think she wants to see me again, after Christmas.”
“Did she say why?”
“I’ve got to see a couple of people first, Giles and Maria?” I looked at her, waiting to see if she recognised the names. She looked blank at first, then said
“Oh let me guess, makeover and deportment?”
“Yeah, I don’t know what I should do.” It was a trick I hadn’t pulled for a long time, not since I’d last seen my dad; little girl looking for confirmation of a decision. Zoe provided the rationale for it.
“What have you got to lose, she’s giving you those for free, girl.” She smiled and hugged me. “A new you for the New Year.” I felt her look at her watch over my shoulder. “Shit I’ve got to get ready.”
“What for?” I asked.
“Got a client tonight, some African bigwigs kid, apparently he’s new here.” She released me and strode to her room. Looking back over her shoulder she said smiled again.
“Daddy’s very rich, don’t wait up for me.”
Feeling thoroughly deflated I went back into my own room. I could hear Zoe moving about, she took a shower, then dried her hair. Some time later I heard her leaving as I tried to concentrate on an essay about Macroeconomics, but I couldn’t concentrate.
I opened the web browser again and surfed a bit until I was inexorably drawn back to the adverts for escorts again. After a while I made a decision and went into the bathroom.
Taking a pair of nail scissors, the only thing I could find, I set about removing my pubic hair over the toilet bowl. Turning on the shower I waited until the water was running hot before climbing in, armpit razor in hand. Scraping at the short stubble the scissors had left I started shaving myself. After a few minutes I was totally smooth down there.
It felt strange to touch myself without the soft hair I’d grown so used to. It actually felt good, sexy and with a forbidden naughtiness as my fingers caressed the smooth wet skin. The water was starting to turn cold, so I turned the shower off and wrapped a towel around myself.
In my room I plugged in the hair dryer and dried my hair, brushing out the tangles. Some deodorant and then into my big fluffy dressing gown, hanging my wet towel on the rail over the radiator. I went into the tiny kitchen, found a half bottle of white wine and some cheese, then stretched out on the dilapidated sofa to watch TV.
I must have dozed off, because I suddenly started at the sound of my mobile ringing and buzzing in my dressing gown pocket. The screen clock said it was half past midnight, and it was Zoe calling. I thumbed the little green icon to take the call.
“Zoe?”
“Holl, you have to come and meet Kwaze and his pal, we’re having a party,” she giggled as a deep man’s voice said something in the background I couldn’t quite make out.
“Come on Holl, these guys are fun.”
“Zo, what are you on about?”
“Come over and join the party babe, Kwaze has a friend who’d like to meet you, and they have a lot of gifts, if you follow me.” Realisation slowly dawned on me, as she giggled again.
“Zo, no, I’m not doing that.” I heard her moan throatily.
“Oh come on Holl, you can get a chance to try before you buy.” she giggled again.
“Kwaze said he’ll get his driver to pick you up, we’re in suite ten-eleven.” She gave me the name of the hotel, I recognised it as one of the most expensive in Knightsbridge.
“I haven’t anything to wear Zo.” I protested, but that little worm in the back of my mind was waking up to the situation now.
“That’s not true, what abut that little black dress you wore last spring? You looked totally delicious in that.” I had also been four or five pounds lighter then, though.
But you could squeeze into it the worm said, you probably won’t have it on for too long anyway. Matching heels and a bit of slap, go on, why not? It was a persistent little beast. I gave in.
Twenty minutes later the entry phone buzzed, I was still applying my lipstick.
“Give me a minute.” I shouted into the speaker.
“Yes miss.” an anonymous voice replied.
When I was ready I walked carefully down the stairs, anxious in case the unfamiliar heels would send me tumbling down to ruin any chance of seeing what being an escort was going to be about. I made it safely down to the door, adjusted my dress and stepped outside. There was a new Lexus waiting at the pavement, a large, and I mean big, coloured guy in a suit was holding the back door open.
“Miss Jordan?” he asked.
I nodded, then tottered over to the car, trying to remember how to get in, wearing a dress without displaying everything. The door closed behind me, and I was grateful the driver had the heat turned up because I hadn’t thought just how cold it would be with only a light bolero jacket across my shoulders.
Despite the late hour, there was still plenty of traffic on the road, but it wasn’t long before we turned into an underground car park. The driver stopped opposite a bank of lifts, got out and held the door open for me. I managed to get out of the car maintaining a semblance of elegance and shivered.
“Take the right hand elevator to floor ten, suite eleven will be to your left miss.” he rumbled at me. I got in the lift, pressed the button marked ten, and the doors closed behind me.
When they opened again I stepped out into a carpeted corridor, to my left the door to suite eleven was slightly ajar. I could hear Zoe laughing at something as I approached it. I stopped, suddenly very, very nervous. Taking a deep breath I hesitated, should I knock, or just walk in or, the thought bubbled up, run away?
The decision was taken out of my hands as the door suddenly swung open, a tall thin black man stood in the doorway. He had an open necked shirt on, waistcoat, matching trousers and the deepest black eyes I could ever remember. A small black beard and thin moustache adorned his face, split by a broad, welcoming smile.
“You must be Holly.” he said as those eyes looked me up and down.
“Umm, yes.” was all I could manage.
“I am Jamal.” He stepped back in invitation.
“Miss Holly Jordan.” he announced as I stepped over the threshold. I could smell whisky on his breath as I passed him. This was some suite; a large room, with several doors, presumably bedrooms along one side. Zoe was sat on a large white leather couch. There was a glass topped coffee table in front of it. A broad shouldered young coloured man, wearing a shirt and trousers, but no shoes or socks, knelt with his back to me, the pink of his soles contrasting sharply with his dark skin. He looked over his shoulder at Jamal’s announcement. He too had a small fashionable beard that was split by gloriously white teeth.
“Miss Jordan, we have heard much about you.” I glanced at Zo, who had the grace to look away. This guy was good looking, if a little overweight, but he couldn’t have been more than a couple of years older than me.
“You may call me Kwaze, and you are … Holly?”
“Holl is fine.” I said.
“Miss Allen suggested you may like an early Christmas present.” he said, indicating a brown A5 envelope on the end of the table. It looked like it had an inch or two of filling.
“I hope you like it.” he said. He started to stand up, turning to face me. Behind him, on the table I saw thin white lines of powder. Zoe got up from her seat and walked over to me, taking my hand and air-kissing my cheeks.
“Come and dance Holl, let’s get the party started.”
She drew me to the middle of the room, swaying to the music that was quietly playing in the background. She raised her arms above her head and eased into the smooth rhythm, seemingly losing herself in the insistent beat. I tried following her moves, feeling awkward and out of practice, but soon I was relaxed, swaying and bumping against Zoe.
Kwaze asked me if I wanted a drink. When I suggested a Prossecco he told Jamal to pour a glass of Champagne. After my exertions with Zoe it tasted delicious. She was still dancing by herself lost in the music as I sat sipping my drink. There was something different about her, she seemed to need to keep moving. I tried making small talk with Kwaze as I figured out the dynamic between him and Jamal. It was fairly obvious to me that Jamal worked for Kwaze, despite being at least ten years older than him. Where Jamal was finely chiselled features, flat stomached and wiry, Kwaze looked softer, more childlike. He was carrying more weight than he should, and even at this age he seemed to have a slight pot belly. Jamal though was interesting, in all the right ways.
Zoe came over and sat between me and Kwaze, whilst Jamal had taken a seat angled toward the sofa. She leant forward, almost doubling over as, picking up a gold coloured tube she took a line of what I’d guessed was coke up each nostril. Sitting upright, and wiping her her nose with her fingers she turned to look at me. Her eyes were bright, glowing almost.
“Go on, try some, Kwaze has plenty of everything to go round.” she giggled again.
I suppose it was late night champagne on an empty stomach, or maybe it was the look in Zoe’s eye. Whatever, I did as she had, placing the end of the golden tube, and it was gold, I could see the tiny little hallmarks on the side, into a nostril, I knelt down by the table, leaning over the little lines of powder, and sniffed hard, first one side, then the other.
Coughing, I tried to stand again as the rush hit me; everything came into focus, the music was clearer, sweeter, colours much brighter. As Zoe came closer I could see the stitching on her dress, the little clumps of mascara on her lashes as she stood right in front of me, the electricity of our boobs brushing together made my breathing quicken.
“Y’know, Holl, I’ve always wanted to do this.”
Then she kissed me full on the lips. I almost started to pull away, to say no, but her soft full lips and flickering tongue trapped me there. It was so different from when I had kissed guys, she placed a hand behind my neck holding me as her tongue searched around my mouth. I began to respond, moaning and pressing closer to her. Her heels made her a bit taller than me, I placed my hands on the swell of her hips as she caught my tongue, gently sucking it, teasing the tip, flicking it with her own. My hands moved of their own accord, pulling her tighter into me, one on her buttocks, the other in the middle of her back, squashing her into me.
I closed my eyes, knowing this was wrong, but not wanting to stop the sparkling rush of pleasure that came with every heartbeat, with every touch. Caught in her embrace, she slowly manoeuvred me around the table until my calves touched the sofa. The sudden obstruction caused me to overbalance; I fell backwards, taking her with me. We were both giggling and panting as we looked into each other’s eyes, me lying almost on my back and Zoe, holding herself up on her arms. She looked back over her shoulder, I could see Kwaze and Jamal, stood behind her, drinks in hand.
“Are you watching boys? Enjoy the show.”
Her black-brown eyes roamed my face for a second, then she leaned in again, though this time instead of kissing my lips she nuzzled at my neck; feather-light caresses in the soft dip under my ears, then she gently nibbled the lobe sending thrills all the way down to my stomach. Bunching my hair, she kissed me again. Suddenly I was full of need; need for her to show me the way.
I returned the kiss passionately, groaning when she broke it as she moved down my body, kissing my neck tenderly, then lower, rubbing her face against my breasts. I arched my back luxuriously, like a cat being stroked. She cupped both of my tits in her hands, her thumbs playing over the nipples that traitorously began to harden in the lacy cups of my bra. I didn’t want her to stop seducing me. I placed a hand on the back of her head, drawing her down to my chest, wanting more.
She slipped the thin straps of my dress off my shoulders, pulling the bodice down, exposing the lacy bra Simon had bought me last year. Her mouth closed over my left nipple as she massaged the right breast with her hand. My breath caught in my throat as she gently nibbled and teased me through the material, then she changed sides, I was moaning quietly now, aware that my pussy was getting wet with arousal. She sat up and back, eyes glowing, lips wet; she looked like some African queen, gloriously imperial, taking her pleasure of her white love slave.
Unbuttoning her blouse, she shrugged it off, then reached behind her to unclasp her bra. Shrugging her shoulders, the straps fell down her arms, but she held the cups against her breast. I sat up to get closer to my queen and she let the material fall away. Her breasts were firm, the nipples already distended, brown like dark Belgian chocolate and larger than mine. Around each one was a golden six pointed star, held in place with a bar through the nipple. I licked the left one, for the first time ever I touched a woman with sexual intent.
“Yes Holl, like that.” she cooed as I scraped the thickening bud with my teeth, “Mmm yes.”
Her reactions, her words, were turning me on even more. She held my head against her tits as I suckled, nibbled and licked her. I was aware that she was touching herself between her legs as I feasted upon the hard nubbins. She gasped and shuddered.
“Oh baby, fuck you are hot, I could eat you all up.” She pushed me back down and slithered off me, kneeling on the floor between my legs. I knew what was coming. Bunching the skirt of my dress up around my waist she rubbed my wet lacy thong.
“Mmm yes.” she murmured quietly so only I could hear her. She hooked a finger around the flimsy material and moved it to one side.
“Ooh, you naughty girl, you’ve shaved for me.”
She ran a finger up my wet lips, drawing the moisture up to my clit and sending more thrills through my body. Her tongue snaked out, sending another wave of pleasure through me. She planted her lips over my sex, her tongue rippling over my secret pleasure. She was truly far more adept than any of the boys I had known; as a finger tip brushed the inner part of my pussy lips I had the first mini orgasm, when she went deeper with two fingers hooked upwards she found the spot that really set me off, my hips bucking underneath her as her mouth latched onto my pussy, I was tossing my head side to side as a little squeal escaped from my mouth.
As I came down my muscles spasmed, little shudders of pleasure keeping me breathless. Zoe rose to her feet, looking down at me with a satisfied smirk on her face. She stepped out of her skirt and, turning round, gave me a view of her perfect arse as she took her thong off, bending over gracefully so I could see her tight little pucker. She straightened again, now dressed only in black hold ups and her heels, I noticed not only those incredibly sexy nipple shields but also the spangle in her belly button, five sparkling fronds hanging from it, and a thin golden chain emphasising the swell of her hips and flat belly. She too was shaved, but with a tight little strip of her above her opening.
To me, just then, she looked beautiful and magnificent. She glanced across at Kwaze, who nodded, then she positioned herself, straddling my head. Her pussy was just above my face, the lips a darker brown, contrasting with her coffee coloured skin. It was obvious what she wanted from me. I hesitated; half an hour ago, when I’d walked into this room I’d hardly so much as kissed a girl, now I was going to make love to Zoe.
She reached back and started playing with my still sensitive pussy lips as I raised my face to her, my tongue extended to lick her labia. They were soft, slightly salty, and as I drew my tongue over them she moaned loudly. I didn’t think I could get any more turned on, but then I saw the two men, naked and hard, standing in front of Zoe. She abandoned my pussy, leaning forward to take Kwaze in her mouth and wrapping her small hand around Jamal’s much bigger cock, I lost sight then of what she was doing as I concentrated on pleasuring her. I found that as she was leaning forward I could easily slide two fingers into the hot wet hole as my tongue worked her clit; it grew in my mouth so I could suck and tease it. She was moaning loudly, though whether it was because of what I was doing, or just for the boy’s benefit I didn’t know.
Kwaze said something I didn’t catch as her thighs were clamped around my head. She rose and repositioned herself in the classic sixty-nine position, my brief disappointment at losing her, my longing to service her soon satisfied again as she lowered herself to my face again, she was using her fingers on me, her arse raised up so I could only touch her clit.
I realised what the men had intended when Kwaze’s cock appeared above me. He guided it to her nether lips as I licked her, then he pushed in all the way. Her pussy easily expanded to accommodate the intruder. He started thrusting as I concentrated on her clit, she was grunting and moaning at the double stimulation. Her belly clenched above me as she came, a little trickle of bitter fluid filled my mouth, but Kwaze just kept going. I was aware too, of Jamal, somewhere near Zoe’s face and my thighs. I pictured him, with his cock in her mouth as she fingered my pussy, I came again at the thought.
“Let Jamal have the white slut.” I heard Kwaze grunt.
He pulled out of Zoe, and I gave him a quick lick as the tip of his cock dropped down to my face. Zoe climbed off me, moving to the other side of the sofa’s arm so she could lie over it and suckle my tits. Jamal, climbed between my legs, rubbing the thick head of his cock over my lips and clit, sending little thrills sparkling through my body. I knew then I wanted to be thoroughly fucked by him. I raised my legs to give him better access, pulling them back by the simple expedient of putting my hands behind my knees. Kwaze evidently was back inside Zoe, fucking her as she pinched my nipples, telling him how good it felt. I understood why she was so vocal; to give her client a good time; ‘The Girlfriend Experience’ I remembered.
All analytical thought rushed from my head though as Jamal slowly pushed into me. He was long, and thick, bigger than any of the men I’d had before.
“She’s tight, like a little boy.” he said grinning at his boss as he waited for me to adjust to his size.
I looked up at him, his ebony skin shining over his muscular torso, muscles and veins standing out like a classical Greek statue, he had no excess fat; there was even a six-pack to admire, truly beautiful to me. I started to move underneath him, rocking my hips at the deliciously full sensation, capturing his attention. He started to move now, in counterpoint to my rhythm. Zoe was moaning loudly again, telling Kwaze how good it felt, and I now did the same, moaning how big Jamal was, though that certainly was no lie.
The men kept on fucking us, we kept telling them how magnificent their cocks were, how nobody could match their sexual prowess, all the time the room filled with the sounds and smell of sex. I came so often I was like a ball of jelly, all awareness centred around the thick rod of man meat filling my pussy. Above me Zoe’s face suddenly changed, her eyes widened and she squealed.
“Oh my god Holl, he’s in my arse, he’s in my arse” tears of pain were running down her face.
Jamal grabbed my attention again by slapping my tits, the sharp, unexpected pain adding to my pleasure, I couldn’t think straight any-more, and then he pulled out. I was afraid he’d try to do what his boss was doing to Zo, but he didn’t. He moved to straddle my face, his balls hanging down in front of me. I tried to suck them both into my mouth at the same time but, like his cock, they were far too big.
He took hold of Zoe’s head and forced himself into her mouth. He fucked her face as he’d fucked my pussy, Zoe was gagging, thick strings of drool dripping down the cock and into my eyes. I heard a shout from Kwaze as he came in Zoe’s arse and a second later I saw Jamal’s balls tighten and his cock pulse as he filled Zoe’s mouth with his cum. My body betrayed me one more time as I orgasmed at the sight of all this debauchery. The men stood back as Zoe drooped over me, Jamal’s cum dripping from her lips, then she kissed me, filling my mouth with salty thick goo. We stayed like that for some time, tongues playing in each others mouths, slowly coming down from what was certainly my most intense sexual experience ever.
“It is very late, ladies. You will stay the night.” Kwaze said.
I looked Zoe in the eyes, she smiled and nodded happily. We gathered up our discarded clothes, and went into a bathroom that was nearly as big as the flat we shared. Stripping off our remaining garments Zoe figured out how to get the big double waterfall shower working. I stepped in with her and soon the hot water was working its magic as we soaped each other up, kissing like old lovers, the water and soap making our skin slippery.
“Are you okay Zo?” I asked, “when you said he was fucking your arse I got scared a bit.”
She grinned.
“It was just a bit unexpected. Anyway he’s not very big.” she held a hand up and crooked her little finger. We both laughed, then embraced and kissed again.
“That Jamal is definitely a big boy though, I thought he’d dislocate my jaw the first time I sucked him.” she said.
I sighed happily at my memory of him inside me.
“Is it always like this?” I asked.
“Shit no, it’s rare to have a stud like Jamal, mostly its old men who can’t get it up.”
“And what about us?” She looked puzzled at my question. “I liked it when, you know…”
She moved closer, “Was that your first time?”
“Yes, I didn’t know it would be so… different.”
“I liked it too Holl, we made a good team in there. I know Alexandra runs a couple of girls who only work in pairs, and it pays better.”
That brought me down to earth, I had just prostituted myself, like a whore. Zoe must have been a mind-reader.
“Holl, baby, we just got paid a shit load of money to do what women all over the country do for free and, admit it, you liked it didn’t you, you horny bitch.”
She smiled again before saying:
“So, what do you think? Would you do it again?”