With the long vacation looming and still no sign of a job to see me through to the start of next term (see my post “Misbehaving” for the story behind that), I put out a few feelers among my friends to see what they could suggest. Some of them had indeed struck lucky with internships or work experience packages, but disappointingly nearly everyone else had had to resort to supermarket or coffee-shop jobs. I needed some work, but I didn't think I was so desperate that I had to resort to shelf-stacking or serving the great British public in their hour of need. But as the days wore on I was starting to wonder if I'd have to resign myself to a summer of enforced idleness and poverty. Then quite by chance one evening while browsing some of the seedier corners of the internet I came across something that gave me an idea.

I had been researching the hidden lives that some people lead. I call it “research,” but you'd probably say I was just looking at porn. Well, no, it really was research, but you'll just have to take my word for that. Be that as it may, I'd come across an agency that offered to provide escorts for discerning gentlemen. I thought that might have been a fancy way of saying that you could hire prostitutes for the night, but looking at the testimonials and the home page it really did look as if there were men out there prepared to pay just for the pleasure of taking a girl out for dinner or to a function with no sex attached.

In fact, the thing looked so innocent, it made you wonder why it was listed under sex work. But no, Marchmont Ladies offered to provide professional accompaniment for a wide variety of social and business activities including dinner parties, theatre, functions, sports events, conferences and business and social outings. Now, the pictures of the girls, sorry, the ladies were all a bit provocative in a soft-porn kind of way, but there was a disclaimer to the effect that no way did this mean that these ladies would offer anything other than their time and company. I guess there must be laws against pimping.

I tried to weigh up the pros and cons of doing that kind of work, but decided, in the end, it might make more sense to go and see them. The site said they were recruiting “ladies” and gave a number to text. After a little bit of toing and froing, I was invited along to their city office.

And so it was that I found myself in a typical tenement flat in the south of Edinburgh chatting to a very friendly girl called Rosie. When I say girl, I really mean woman as she was about thirty years old; she was the manager of the agency and immediately put me at my ease for what I had imagined would be a formal interview. The flat was spacious and clean, with lots of oriental rugs on varnished wooden floors, and tasteful paintings on the walls. I learned later that they were all originals by local artists, so there was clearly a lot of money to be made running an agency like this.

“Now, Evelyn,” she said, as we settled into the plush armchairs in her lounge, “Tell me what attracts you to this line of work.”

I explained my precarious job situation, the long days I had to fill before the autumn term began, and of course trotted out all the usual lines about being a fun personality interested in people.

“That all sounds very interesting, my dear, and I can tell you're a lively and personable young girl. But as I'm sure you realise, we're not as innocent as maybe we appear from our website. You would be acting as an escort to men, or very occasionally to women, and initially, at least you will indeed be exactly that: an escort. But a man and a woman together, pleasant company, getting to know each other, it can all lead to something else, if you see what I mean. How would you feel about that?”

“If you're asking will I have sex with my escort, then I guess the answer would have to be, it depends. If I fancy him, why not? I like sex and can be pretty adventurous.” And I proceeded to tell the story of that last evening Tessa and I spent in the country.

Rosie enjoyed my little tale and by the end was crossing and uncrossing her legs with greater frequency, which to me signalled that she was getting a little itch that needed to be scratched. When I had finished she said, “Yes, that's very good, dear, except for one thing.”

“What's that?” I asked, puzzled as to what she could mean.

“The thing is, and our reputation is built on this, it's the reason we have so many repeat clients: our girls are expected to have sex with their escort whether they fancy them or not. And before you say anything, you would be paid handsomely for it. So what I'm really asking is whether you feel you could sell your body for sex in this way.”

I was a little stunned at this, not because I didn't think I could handle it, nor even because the reality behind the job description shocked me, it didn't. No, what I found disconcerting was Rosie's bluntness; I was surprised she wasn't a little more indirect. However, plain speaking in these circumstances is better than giving a false impression, so I quickly saw how practical it was to explain things this way.

“To be honest,” I replied, “I think I would have been more surprised if the job really did consist of being an escort and nothing more. Do you think I've got the right qualities to join you?”

“You have indeed. You dress well; that red leather miniskirt is very hot, as I'm sure you know; you're young – nineteen is a very popular age with some of our gentlemen; you have those beautiful Asian looks that drive a certain kind of man wild; you talk well and, if your story is anything to go by, you are a bit of a tigress in the bedroom. You will fit in very well.”

“Thanks, Rosie,” I almost squealed with delight.

“You'd be surprised how many students I have on the books. Times must be hard. But my student girls are generally some of my most popular. Now is there anything I can tell you? Do you have any questions for me?”

I asked about pay, about how much to charge for “extras”, personal safety and various practical issues.

“Rosie smiled. There's not really a typical engagement, except for the fact that you go somewhere for one purpose and end up in bed at the end of it. But I can tell you about my last engagement if you like.”

“Somehow I'd imagined you didn't do the work itself, just organised it. But yes, that would be good, if you don't mind.”

“Not at all. Here, let's make ourselves comfy, shall we?” She stood and took me by the hand and led me next door into what I can only describe as a boudoir. It was a bedroom decked out in satin bedclothes with erotic photographs on the walls showing men and women engaging in various sexual acts. “Don't be afraid,” she said, “I can tell you my story and then perhaps I can sample the goods. Do you mind?”

“I certainly don't,” I croaked, and let her lead me to her bed where we sat leaning against the headboard, her arm around my shoulders. The warmth of her skin through her blouse and my top, coupled with her sweet breath on my hair, brought me out in goosebumps all over.

She kissed the top of my head and began. “My last engagement was actually a double booking. A guy called Ian wanted to hire two girls to flirt with clients at a promotional event he was running. He didn't actually use the word flirt, but that's what it amounted to. Sue and I were to work our way round the room chatting to people and offering drinks and canapes. It wasn't difficult, and quite interesting talking to a variety of men and women. We had our little waitress outfits on, a bit exaggerated but not overstated; you know the sort of thing, short black dresses, white frilly aprons, sheer black nylons, high heels. When the event was over, we went back to Ian's to change and to pick up our bonus (for something like this, if it's successful, our client will add on a little extra anyway.)

'I asked Ian how he thought the event had gone.

' “Oh very well indeed. Especially the guys; they looked like they would have done anything to have you come up to them in your sexy little outfits. Whenever I looked there was always someone checking out your cleavage; but I'm sure you know that already. So yeah, a great success. Thanks.”

' “And what about you, Ian?” I asked. “What would you have done for another glimpse of us?”

'He smiled. “Well, I kept thinking about what it would be like to see you two kissing and cuddling each other. My imagination went into overdrive.”

'Sue and I looked at each other. There's nothing we like better than putting on a lesbian show, and here was a guy who would really appreciate our charms. “Like this, maybe?” I said and started kissing Sue and running my hands up her dress so that he could see her stocking tops. She wasn't idle herself and as we kissed she started unbuttoning my dress from behind. Before long we were down to our bra and panties, with our heels and stockings still on; that seems to drive the guys wild.

' “It's alright, Ian,” I said, “You can get your cock out if you want. We love to see a guy wanking as we make out.”

'He didn't need any further encouragement, and soon he was slowly stroking his extremely hard cock as he watched his very own private show. Sue and I manoeuvred into a 69 with me on top and each pulled the other's panties to one side to start licking each other. This was the first time that Ian had seen my pussy, and the next thing I knew he was kneeling behind me nudging his cock against my slit as Sue's tongue worked wonders on my pussy. With him where he was she could switch between licking me and him, it felt amazing. Slowly he eased his cock into my cunt and started fucking me, gradually getting faster. I loved what he was doing; it's always a great feeling the first time you feel a client's cock inside you, and this time it was even better as I was getting to suck my girlfriend's sweet pussy at the same time.

'After a while we switched so that Sue was on top and he could fuck her; his stamina was something else, as he managed to hold out for at least ten minutes before cumming for us. Our usual show like this makes the guys cum in seconds. But he was good, making both Sue and I cum before he shot his load of thick, hot cum over our faces. Naturally we swapped cum for him – guaranteed to earn us a bonus.

'And that's about it. We went home that day with wet pussies and a nice fat fee. A very good outcome all round.”

As she'd been talking, Rosie had been stroking my arms and had cupped one of my breasts in her hand, squeezing gently. When she finished speaking, I turned towards her and kissed her deeply. It didn't take long before we were stripping each other and exploring each others' bodies. I let my tongue slide from her neck, down to her tits, flicking against her rock-hard nipples, tracing a line down to her tummy-button and then on down to her fat pussy lips. Juice was already seeping out of her, and I opened her lips to see her pretty pink pussy glistening before me. I tasted her sweet juice and then clamped my mouth firmly over her pussy, making her shout out and cry with pleasure. Her hips bucked as I sucked and the sweet aroma of her cunt sent me into ecstasy. She came in my mouth, shuddering to a huge climax.

“Was that satisfactory?” I said playfully. “You seemed to enjoy it.”

“Evelyn, you are amazing. You are going to be such a success. But let me do something for you.”

She reached behind her and took out a strap-on from her bedside drawer. “I'm going to fuck you with this,” she said. “Tell me you want it.”

“Yes, Rosie, I want it. Fuck me till I beg for mercy. My cunt is waiting for you.”

Fuck me she did, and as that fat cock filled my cunt she tugged at my nipples to send waves of orgasmic thrills through my entire body. “Mmmm,” she said when my orgasm subsided, “You are one hot little girl. I might have to sample the merchandise again some time.”

“That would be my pleasure,” I said. And I meant it.