Helena took a sip of cognac and continued where she had left off.

“I could spend hours telling you about my ‘training’ and all sorts of stories about my work for Agence Internationale. However, we can save that for other evenings. I have a feeling that your little friend” - and she rubbed my crotch with her toes for emphasis - “would get overly excited if we went down that part of Memory Lane.

“So, I worked for Agence Internationale for many years. While I was not nearly as beautiful as some of the other girls, I soon became in demand because I was fun, I was intelligent and I was up for pretty much anything that did not involve pain. I had my limits. Despite my evening with Clive, I really do not like watersports. I will spank a guy if he wants, but I was never into S&M. I couldn’t dress up like a schoolgirl or a French maid and keep a straight face. I would allow anal, but only if they were gentle, really gently. I would make love to another woman, but I had to be attracted to her.

“With Francoise’s expert help, I learned how to take care of myself. She told me many times that a whore’s most valuable assets are her face, skin, figure and cunt - in that order. She taught me how to exercise effectively, and we took yoga classes together way before it became popular. She taught me what beauty products to use - and what not to use - to keep my skin looking young. She told me to have my hair cut a bit shorter each year: shorter hair makes older women look younger. I saw her about six months ago, and even though she’s now over seventy, she could pass for forty. Easily.

“I pretty much retired from regular work agency in 1990, when I was 35. I then spent several years being a travel companion for middle-aged men. An important businessman often wanted a courtesan who was attractive but a bit older to pass off as his wife when he went on business trips, especially to the Far East. It was a great gig. I would lie and read by the hotel pool for most of the day, wearing a tiny bikini so I would look sexy in case they had time for a quick fuck in the afternoon. Then I would put on an expensive dress that I bought earlier in the day with his money and go to a fancy dinner with his clients. Finally, he and I would go back to the suite to have sex, but the guy was usually so tired that he was asleep within thirty minutes. The bloke would invariably have breakfast meetings so there would only be time for a quickie when we woke up. I would usually have to spend the weekend with him, but my share of the fee would be nearly $10,000. I could work a week a month and live in high style.

“Of course, by then, my trust fund had kicked in. I had wisely put £500,000 away for retirement, but that left me with another £1.5 million, plus nearly £600,000 in savings from my work. So, I thought I was set for life.

“I retired for good at age 40. I was bored with acting as someone else’s wife or sometimes his sister. I had lots of girlfriends in Paris and other places, so I would still travel a lot, but on my terns. Occasionally, I would see an old client who managed to locate me, but I did that more for a good time rather than for the money.

“Nearly fifteen years sailed by until I met Luca, who swept me off my feet in the course of an evening. A friend fixed me up him, and I found him charming, handsome and irresistible. He said he was an international financier. Despite the fact that I had slept with way too many men to possibly try to count, I was a bit naïve when it came to relationships, and I was certainly naïve about Luca. I packed up and moved to Milan to be with him.

“The first two years were fine. Luca travelled for work much more than I expected and I was lonely when he was gone, but it was great when he was home. I had never been in love before, and I found the sex was different when you actually cared about your partner. However, after two years, Luca was in Milan less and less often. When we were together, he was distant.

“I thought he had met someone else, but he told me that his business had problems. The financial crisis had really hurt him. He told me he needed £600,000, just for a couple of weeks, to balance the books. Of course, I gave it to him. I was that stupid. Six months went by; Luca assured me each time he came home that he would repay me as soon as he could. Then, he asked for another £250,000. You can con me once, but not twice. I told him no way, He hit me so hard he broke my jaw and then disappeared.

“I debated whether or not to call the police, and I was surprised when the police came to the house the next day. They were looking for Luca for another reason: he owed his clients a lot more money than he owed me. He had done a runner. I left Milan as soon as I could and moved first back to Paris and then to London. About a week after I left, Luca was found dead in a cheap hotel in Naples with a bag over his head and a bullet in his chest. I could only assume that one of his clients found him before the police could.

“That was five years ago. I still was well off, just not as rich as before. I had watched my money, and I even thought about getting a job. I took a fair amount of my savings and my pension and bought the flat in Mayfair; I’m not financially savvy, but I thought owning property in a good area was the best investment I could make.

“Then, I made contact with Sue. We had not spoken in more than twenty years, but it did not make a difference: we were best friends again by the end of our first lunch together. She was still with Howard, although the marriage was foundering from sheer boredom on her part. She doted on Emma, her only daughter, but now that Emma was grown and happily married to Tim, Sue’s life was empty. While Sue led a life of luxury due to Howard’s inherited wealth and his position as a leading lawyer in the City, money did not buy Sue happiness.

“Sue could not believe it when I told her that I had been a high-priced whore, and she never tired of hearing my stories. She was shocked when I told her about Luca, and she said she did not know whether to pity or despise him. Actually, neither do I.

“I had not had sex since Luca disappeared. Sue and I often recalled our exploits at university, and for the first time in a long while, I felt randy. One night, we were having drinks in a bar in Soho when two American businessmen in their fifties hit on us. Sue was really drunk and particularly pissed off at Howard that evening, so when they asked us back to their hotel, she readily accepted.

I decided to go along. We went to the Ladies’ to freshen up, and Sue joked whether we should charge them for our services. My guy was okay in bed - you are a thousand times better - but Sue thought hers was the next Casanova.

“Sue then started really fucking around on Howard; she began a long affair with a married guy. I warned her not to risk her marriage on a guy who probably would note leave his wife for her, but she paid no attention. Howard filed for divorce, even though he knew that Sue would end up with nearly £12 million, half of his fortune. The guy went back to his wife.

“So here we are today. Sue and I are very close, and I see a lot of Sue – the good Sue – in her daughter. Over the past year, Sue and I have come up with a brilliant idea for a business, but we need some management advice and expertise. I want to discuss that with you tomorrow.”

It was now nearly 11:30 and I must admit that I was tired, especially as I had refilled our cognac twice. Roxy had already retired to sleep on the bed in the spare bedroom. All the time Helena had talked, she continued to fondly my cock with her bare foot, so she kept me in a mild state of arousal for more than an hour.

“I know it’s late, James, and I have talked all evening. However, you asked for it!”

I chuckled. “I think I may have heard more than I asked for, but I found every word fascinating. I think I understand a lot more about you now. And, I am really sorry about what happened to Luca, even if he did con you.”

“And so you ever want to see me again, right? I assume gentlemen like you don’t associate with whores,” Helena asked, almost nervously as if she was not sure of my response.

“I usually don’t, but since it’s late and I am with an ex-whore,” I said with a smile, “I guess the thing to do is to ask her to spend the night with me. I decided earlier this afternoon to take tomorrow off, so I will even cook breakfast. How do you like your eggs?”

“That, James, is an offer I cannot refuse,” she said, putting her arms around me. “Scrambled, please.”

Helena broke the embrace, grabbed her bag and we headed up the stairs.

I was already in bed, when Helena emerged from the bathroom in the nude. She slowly pulled back the duvet covering me and gently fondled my cock until it showed signs of life.

“Turn off the light, James, and the lie back and relax.”

I soon felt her tongue trace down the length of my rapidly hardening cock. It was totally dark in the room, so I could only feel her tongue and her lips on my penis and my scrotum. It was slow and gentle, almost totally different from the blowjob she had given me twenty-four hours earlier.

Part of me wanted to fall asleep and part of me wanted to grab Helena and fuck her senseless. It was a delicious feeling: I was drifting between total relaxation and total arousal. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, Helena began sucking me with gusto until I could not take any more. I exploded everything I had into her mouth.

I felt her settle alongside me and turned towards her shadowy outline. She whispered, “Come here, James.” I could feel her face approaching mine. We began to kiss and as I reacted in passion, she deposited most of my cum straight into my mouth.

She broke the kiss and said softly, “It’s called snowballing, James. It really turns me on, and I found that most men really don’t mind the taste of semen. Am I correct?”

I gulped loudly for effect. “I think I am going to learn a lot from you if you don’t kill me first. Roll over and go to sleep.”

She did.

I woke up the next morning alone. At first, I thought the night before had been just a dream, but as the cobwebs cleared from my brain, I knew that I had not imagined Helena’s story. Then, I thought she had done a runner, just as I had done the previous morning at her flat. Then, I heard movement downstairs. I put on a dressing gown and went to investigate.

Helena had moved the coffee table in front of the sofa and was doing yoga, still totally naked. I tried to be as quiet as possible, sat on the stairs and watched her go through a series of poses for ten minutes. Roxy was lying on top of the sofa, and she seemed similarly entranced.

She had finally shifted into what I think is the downward dog position, when she looked over he shoulder and said: “Good morning. Are you hard yet?”

By this time, my erection was raging and I was just about ready to begin fondling my cock through my dressing gown.

Helena noticed my aroused state as I began to walk down the stairs. She did not have to say anything else. I undid the tie on my robe, slipped it off and quickly pushed the head of my penis against her raised pussy. She quickly became wet, and after twenty seconds or so, my cock easily slipped into her cunt. I began to fuck her slowly.

After several moments, Helena adjusted her pose slightly, looked back at me and said, “James, please fuck me hard. Really, really hard. I want to feel you as deep as possible inside me.”

I began to fuck her as hard as I could, but I knew I could not last very long. Thankfully, neither could Helena. After about two minutes of increasingly heavy breathing, she shouted: “Oh shit, I am cumming!” She slammed her ass so hard against me that I was afraid my cock would break, but she then leaned forward and screamed loudly. After about 30 seconds and ten or twelve more thrusts, I also came, as deeply as possible into her cunt.

After a moment, I popped out of her pussy and she slowly rolled into another position. She held it for about a moment and then rolled over so that she was lying on the rug on her back. She opened her eyes and gave me a big smile.

“I haven’t fucked while doing yoga since I was with an Indian steel executive in a suite in the Danieli in Venice,” she said, looking up at me. “That must have been twenty years ago. By the way, you lasted a longer than he did and you have a much nicer cock.”

She slowly rose up and embraced me, giving me a polite good morning kiss. “Well, what are you waiting for,” she said. “Start cooking. I like my eggs on the runny side, and do you have any bacon?” With that, she slapped me on my ass and headed up the stairs. Soon, I heard the shower start.

I stared ahead of me and thought, “Oh shit! She forgot to close the curtains!”