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Dinner at the Athelstan Part 1

A working girl visits a client in a fine hotel
I was having coffee with a girlfriend. We often meet early in the afternoon because we’re both in the same business and, well, we tend to get up late. Her name is Dee, although most of her clients know her as Simone. She’s tall, willowy with jet black, naturally black hair and a wonderful set of tits which I quietly admire. In a pair of beautifully tailored cream silk trousers and a pale blue shirt, her hair tied back severely she looked stunning, the bone structure of her face highlighted with delicate makeup, nobody would have guessed that she is one of the city’s most expensive courtesans. I wondered if people looked at us and thought we might be lovers as we occasionally are. She was telling me about her client the previous evening. She was about sixty years old, absolutely loaded apparently and liked to watch Dee/Simone pee. She masturbated as Dee did her business then told her to fuck off and that sounded like the easiest fee you can earn. We both laughed at the strange, sometimes surreal world in which we operated. My ‘phone rang and I answered it, excusing myself.

‘The Athelstan, tonight at eight. Party name of Judith, American, here on business. Her card’s worked and Sam will drive you.’ This was Mel, the receptionist at the agency Dee and I worked through. ‘She’s in suite 12 but wants to meet you in the bar. I’ll text all the details and her picture.’ The agency ensured that all clients showed their face by webcam and captured the image. This meant we were safer and knew who to sidle up to wherever the meeting was arranged. The great benefits of working for a high class agency were security and a wonderful fee. It was the sort of arrangement that a girl can only keep going for so long, high fees meant we had to look good and although at forty I was probably one of the older girls, I was also still in pretty good shape. ‘She describes herself as a dominant but not into anything too much for you to worry about. Sam will look after you.’

Sam is my minder. She is an ex police officer and, yes, she and I also get together. In fact we get together a lot, far more than the agency or my friends knew. She’s as fit as a flea, a judo expert and slightly mannish but extremely good under the duvet. She’s been driving and minding me for about three years and we’re very close friends, perhaps more than mere friends. She’s totally reliable which is a huge comfort when you serve the needs of rich, sometimes sadistic lesbians.

‘She said to turn up looking good! I told her our escorts never do anything else.’ Mel sounded slightly indignant on my behalf. I thanked her and smiled at Dee as I rang off.

‘The Athelstan,’ I told her and she whistled.

‘Mmmm – real money then.’ The Athelstan is one of the city’s most expensive hotels and last time I looked a suite cost about £500 per night. ‘You might even get a good tip on top of the fee.’ We kissed goodbye and I made my way home to my flat. As I arrived at the large, airy flat my ‘phone rang again. It was Sam and she asked if I had all the arrangements clear – she always got a copy of my instructions. I confirmed I had and she said, ‘I’ll come round a bit early if you like?’

I knew what that meant and smiled and said, ‘Why don’t you come around at 5 and we can get ready together.’

I got my dress for the evening ready. It’s a calf length black number in silk with tiny straps and a tight waist and full skirt. I hung it on a door hook and lifted the polythene sheet the dry cleaner had returned it in to make sure it was ok. It was of course; with the prices they charge it had to be perfect. I had a glass of water and showered. I’d need another shower before I left if I knew Sam’s intentions but I like to be clean for any lover and Sam was always deliciously showered herself.

Sam arrived a little early and wore a pair of wonderfully tight, black leather trousers and a white silk blouse under a long, grey riding coat. She always dressed as well as any of 'the professionals' as she called us, knowing that wherever we went it was vital to look the part. I was wearing a long robe when she arrived but not for long. It pooled at my feet as she took me in her deceptively strong arms and kissed my mouth firmly. I cupped her breast and felt her hard nipple against the palm of my hand as her tongue invaded my mouth. She held me tightly against her and I felt the hard lump under the leather of her trousers.

‘I got tooled up before I left home,’ she whispered quite unnecessarily. I unzipped her trousers and liberated the deliciously slim strap on she loves to wear when circumstances permit. I didn’t need to remind Sam that it was important that no marks were on my body. She knows the rules and although she is a dominant woman herself she restrains her natural urges with me unless we know I am free for a while. Like the time we went on holiday together for a fortnight and she demonstrated her repertoire of kink quite comprehensively. Her kisses and her fingers ensured my body was ready for her when she gently turned me around to face the wall and, still dressed, slipped her dildo up into me, her hands covering my breasts and her mouth nuzzling into the long, chestnut hair that fell down over my shoulders. Her left hand left my breast and slithered down over me as her rhythm began, her hips moving slowly back and forth. I bent slightly to make it more comfortable for us both and her finger found my clitoris and began to work further magic there. Her hands left me briefly and her trousers slipped down and I felt the warmth of her skin on my bum as she continued to rock behind me. She withdrew long enough to get her trousers off completely then led me, the dildo waving happily in front of her, to my bed. I lay back and, when she had removed her blouse, she knelt between my legs, positioned her strap on carefully and entered me again, bending to kiss my mouth as my legs curled up around her. My arms circled her and her breasts, nipples as hard as steel, pressed into my skin. We rocked together gently and slowly, gathering pace as her orgasm approached. She loves to fuck me when I am going to see a client. It says to her that, no matter what happens, I’m hers and that is a feeling I love. She makes me feel totally secure, even when she’s wielding her cane across my buttocks. That is not often enough for her which is why she has a girlfriend whom she can mark more often but she says that when I decide to retire we will go and live in a farmhouse in Cornwall, miles from anyone and she’ll have me how and when she wants. Roll on retirement, I say.

Her climax arrived as noisily as ever and, as always, she did not roll off and go to sleep, but slithered down between my spread thighs and used her tongue to bring me to a similarly satisfying conclusion. For a woman with slightly sadistic tendencies Sam can be remarkably gentle and is a generous lover. My back arched as the orgasm welled up and then rolled over me like a hot wind. My thighs clamped her head to me and I lifted her as my body went into a spasm of ecstasy. As I lay on the bed recovering, Sam removed her strappy, easing the little bit that sits inside her out and touching it to my lips. I kissed and licked it, tasting her deliciously salty juices and she smiled down at me.

‘You can have a lot more of that later.’

My visits to clients are lucrative for us both and jealousy never rears its hateful green eye between us, even though we both know that one day she’ll be my full time Mistress and lover. She never treats me like a whore, even though that is what I am. She understands that this is how I earn the money, and she does too, that will ultimately set us up in the house we both want to share. She rather likes sharing me anyway. Sometimes, she’d bring another woman to our bed and sit, watching, as the girl and I had sex. It was not love making, it was pure unbridled sex which was precisely what Sam wanted to see. Her only rule on such occasions was that she could always see my eyes unless they were obscured by the girl’s pussy. She’d drive the girl home then come back and fuck me, usually hard and usually very urgently. She is magnificent.

Sam showered and sat on my bed reading a magazine while I showered and washed my hair. She sat there as I dried my hair and applied makeup. She put the magazine down as I rolled black, silk stockings up my legs and watched as I clipped them to my suspender belt. Her eyes never left me as I pulled up silk French knickers, loose and accessible and also black. When I slipped the dress on she sighed and said, ‘Perfect, you look perfect. All that’s missing is a nice red welt or two.’ Her lips curled into a lovely open smile and she slipped her hand between her legs and stroked until she came once more. ‘Best I get you to the Athelstan. Can’t keep this Judith lady waiting now, can we?’

As I collected my bag and coat she dressed and, taking my hand, led me to her car. She loves her car, a dark maroon-coloured Mercedes which doesn’t do any harm to my image when we arrive at a decent hotel. The rules are that Sam meets the client with me and, if she feels that all is ok she leaves us alone. She never intimidates the client but she doesn’t have to. She exudes authority and hasa certain hardness in her eye which few get to see behind as I do.

We went to the hotel’s bar. A piano played quietly in one corner and we quickly identified Judith and approached her. She stood as we got close and smiled a lovely pleasant smile at us both. We all sat on comfortable chairs at the dark wooden table and she ordered a bottle of champagne, water for Sam. We chatted as if we were old friends and I could tell Judith was sizing Sam up and liked what she saw. Sam played the part of minder with a delicacy I valued very highly. She explained the rules to Judith who nodded as she did so as if it was the most normal conversation in the world. Eventually, apparently satisfied, Sam rose, kissed us both goodbye and turned away, her long riding coat flowing behind her and her slender heels clicking on the oak flooring.

‘She’s interesting,’ said Judith, smiling. ‘She doesn’t have to worry about you – nor do you. This is all about fun, preferably for us both but most definitely for me.’ She looked into my eyes and I felt quite sure she meant what she said. I saw only a friendly woman, beautifully dressed in a pale blue dress with large breasts that were tipped with clearly visible and large nipples. Her brown hair was soft and shiny, falling around her face and somehow making her soft, grey eyes sparkle more intensely, typically great American dental work and a generous mouth. Her legs were slim with beautiful ankles and she was obviously wearing good stockings. No jewellery adorned her but she oozed money and self-confidence.

‘We’ll have something sent up to my suite to eat.’

A few moments later I was standing in one of the most elegant suites I had ever visited. The waiter had accompanied us to the suite, bearing the champagne in an ice bucket and two glasses on a silver salver. He informed us the meal would arrive in about 20 minutes and we sat facing each other across a small table as we sipped the bubbles and chatted.

Two waiters arrived shortly after, one pushing a trolley covered in crisp linen and with covered dishes upon it, cutlery wrapped in equally pristine cotton napkins. There was the usual flummery as they fussed over the table until Judith said with a calm air of command, ‘Leave it at that boys, we want to discuss business.’ She slipped them a tip discreetly and they left, almost bowing their way out of the room.

‘You can eat with your tits out. I might as well see the goods.’ Her voice was not cruel or derisory but held a gentle humour. I slipped the top of my dress down and she smiled more widely. ‘Excellent – do you like smoked salmon?’

To be continued.

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