The Accidental Call Girl (22 page)

His finger circled, rocking trickily from side to side and, as John kissed her, his tongue in her mouth, just as Benjamin’s had been in his all those years ago, she hit the tipping point. Uncouth sounds issued from her, grunts of pleasure stifled by his possession of his lips, controlling her.

Her vagina clenched hard, and she almost bit his tongue as her legs kicked out and her hips pumped. It was a rough, quick orgasm, almost too soon, but still heavenly. She clamped her hand over his, holding in the pleasure, and didn’t release it until the spasms started to ebb.

‘Do you want to hear the rest of the story?’

Lizzie blinked, dropping back into herself after the flight of orgasm. Somehow, she was in John’s arms, her head cradled on his shoulder, but she wasn’t quite sure how that had come about. Had the pleasure been so intense she’d passed out?

‘Hell yes!’ She straightened up, smoothed down her skirt, feeling suddenly energetic, as if she’d been recharged by the grace of John’s hand.

‘Good, I’ll tell you it over coffee. We’re just at a stopping place I know.’ He gestured out of the window, just as the gliding car left the A-road they were travelling on, and pulled into the forecourt of what looked like an old-fashioned, ivy-clad roadhouse-come-café. Lizzie was astonished. She’d been so absorbed in herself, and John, and what he’d said and what they’d done, that she hadn’t even realised they’d left the motorway.

‘It looks nice. Much better than a services.’

‘It is nice,’ said John with a smile, smoothing his hair and plucking imaginary lint off his trousers. ‘The coffee’s second to none, and they do a lemon cake to die for, if you’re hungry?’ Lizzie noticed he was still slightly erect, but it didn’t seem to bother him. Maybe he liked to flaunt his junk in public? Who knew? He was a very strange man, as well as a very sexy one.

Walking through the garden of the Bluebell Café, to one of the outside tables, she had a feeling she was almost more aware of John’s cock and its condition than he was. There were only a few other patrons there at this time of morning, but none of them seemed to notice anything untoward. A couple of elderly ladies fluttered and smiled when he wished them a ‘Good morning’ but she couldn’t blame them. It was as if the god of the sun had passed by them, between the tables, bestowing his gracious light upon them. Lizzie grinned to herself, wondering what might happen if they happened to glance southwards, but they seemed mostly enchanted by his handsome face and his dazzling smile.

‘So, your story,’ she prompted, when they were seated at a table right in the corner of the garden, furthest from anybody and with a view of fields sloping down to a river. The coffee was just as sublime as he’d claimed, and the cake, mmm, heavenly.

John looked around. The nearest of the other patrons was yards away. ‘So, yes . . .’ He paused to eat a morsel of cake, licking the crumbs off the tips of his fingers. ‘I believe we’d got to the part when Benjamin grabbed my cock, hadn’t we?’

‘Yeah, and you said he was rough and you liked it.’

‘True. I was very keen on him, and keen on my dick being handled, although before that it’d been confined to my own efforts. Having another man’s hand on me was as scary as it was fabulous. At the time . . .’

Some slight change in the timbre of his voice caught her attention, and she eyed him closely. Despite his previous avowals, she wanted to ask,
and now, would it still be fabulous
? He’d claimed not to be bisexual any more, but who knew? He could be spinning her lines just as much as she was spinning them to him.

‘He rubbed me for a while, and I probably did a lot of moaning and groaning. It was a wonder I didn’t come all over his fingers straight away, but, somehow, I managed to hang on. I grabbed his arse and he started humping against my leg. He was as hard as a stone inside his trousers.’ He flashed her a grin. ‘I’m surprised he didn’t come straight away too, but clearly he had powers of endurance, just like I had.’

Lizzie took a sip of coffee, loving its aroma and the hard caffeine hit that sharpened her senses. She didn’t want to miss a syllable of John’s account.

‘What happened next?’

‘We kissed some more, and then he got his cock out, and we rubbed against each other. Lord, he was bloody enormous, thick as a club. And you wouldn’t have thought it, because he was skinny and slight, even though he was quite tall.’

Lizzie tried to imagine this tall, dark and presumably handsome man caressing John. The golden angel and the saturnine devil, what a delicious contrast. She pictured herself in the woods with them – what was it about woods? – watching while they fondled each other. Touching herself while they touched one another. She shuffled on her seat, wanting to do that right now, and reached for her cake as a minor distraction from the ache between her legs.

‘I don’t think Benjamin had really thought through what we were going to do next . . . but I had. I’d seen him in the showers, and I knew what other guys were doing with each other. I’d decided I wanted him in me.’

‘Oh!’

Pausing to sip his coffee, John eyed her. ‘Why so surprised?’

Why indeed? Just because he was master of the universe with her, it didn’t mean he wasn’t sexually omnivorous, and prepared to play other roles.

‘Do you think because I act the dom with you I can’t understand and enjoy the flipside of the coin?’ He toyed with his teaspoon, as if it were a proxy for toying with her or with long ago Benjamin.

Lizzie looked into his eyes. They were mild, yet somewhere, far back, there was a flare of darkness. What had happened to him? Something other than his dalliance with Benjamin . . . There was light and shade in his history, she could swear it. But she’d probably never know him long enough to learn his secrets.

‘No, I’m not surprised. I think that’s
why
you are so good a dominant, because you understand the submissive role too.’ She gave him a steady look. Should she dare? ‘I think that before you move on, Mr Smith, you should let me get the better of you. It might be quite diverting . . . and very sexy . . . to see you on your knees ready to take some of your own medicine.’

John nodded. She could tell he was impressed. ‘I might take you up on that, beautiful Bettie. It wouldn’t be a hardship to submit to you. Not in the slightest.’

‘Good . . . very well . . . For the moment, I order you to go on with your story!’

‘Your wish is my command, gorgeous,’ he answered, rather more flippantly than was appropriate if he was supposed to be obeying her order, but she didn’t care. She was dying to hear more of him, and of his long-lost paramour Benjamin.

John paused, sipped his coffee, then stared at her, his eyes alight. ‘I told him to take his clothes off. He seemed nervous about stripping, even with his dick on show, so I led by example. I thought he was going to come at just the idea of it, he was so excited, but he managed to get naked without losing it. He was gorgeous . . . as I’m sure he still is today . . . so tall and slender yet so massive where it matters.’

Again, Lizzie tried to imagine this paragon, but somehow, all she could see was John, and his beautiful body. ‘What happened next?’

‘I told him what I wanted him to do to me. I gave him instructions. I think he was surprised, and he was expecting to be the one who was fucked.’ John’s voice was low, like velvet, but still Lizzie glanced around. Nobody seemed to be in the slightest bit interested in them. Even the admiring old ladies had gone now. ‘I told him to think of trigonometry while I put the condom on him, and then lubed him up. I always found that thinking of complex figures slowed me down a bit.’

‘So, have you been counting your billions while you’ve been shagging me?’

He laughed. ‘I’m a lot older now. I have much more control. And don’t forget my fabulous biofeedback techniques . . . They’ve never helped much with my sleep issues but they’ve been brilliant for staying power in the sack.’

‘Tell me about it . . .’ Suddenly she wanted to ask about the sleep issues again, but now wasn’t the moment. No way.

‘Really. Anyway, we got down on the floor of the hut, and I was on my hands and knees, and I told him to lube me in return . . . but he was shaking too much. I had to manage it myself . . . The stuff went everywhere.’

Oh God. The temptation to reach beneath the tablecloth and touch herself, as she’d done back at the Waverley, was almost unbearable. Wishing she knew biofeedback herself, she ate a bit more cake, barely tasting it.

‘Eventually, we were sorted, and I told him to push into me. He hesitated. He said he wasn’t sure he could do it. I had to get a bit sharp with him. Order him to do it.’

Why didn’t that surprise her? John liked to be in charge, regardless of what he said, and even as such a young man, about to be buggered, he’d clearly still been calling the shots.

‘So, basically, you were topping him from the bottom. Always like a boss, eh?’

He shrugged, still smiling at her. ‘Yes, I suppose so, and it must have worked, because he seemed to get his act together and he . . . managed to get his cock into me, somehow.’

On the point of asking him what it felt like, Lizzie paused. As an experienced escort, she was supposed to know that. But, well, she wasn’t experienced, not in that. And she supposed it was different for a man, with different anatomy.

She just said, ‘Wow.’

‘Wow, indeed. Fuck, it hurt. He wasn’t very gentle. We were both pretty much virgin idiots. He didn’t know how to push smoothly and, bossy as I was, I was excited as hell and didn’t know how to relax properly. There was a lot of moaning and most of it wasn’t in ecstasy, I can tell you.’ He drew in a deep, sharp breath, as if back there, tense and tight, not knowing whether he was enjoying himself or hating every minute. ‘But after a bit, we seemed to get a rhythm, and it started to be nice . . . very nice. I wanted it to last, to go on for ever, but that was never going to happen. He started to come, and come like a bloody jackhammer. We fell in a heap, and I was face down, chewing the floorboards, but in heaven. I thought he’d lost it completely and forgotten about me as anything more than a tight arsehole, but just as I was about to come, he scrabbled around beneath me and held my cock as I shot my load . . . I think that’s when I really thought it was love . . . Because he thought of me, and tried to make it nicer when it mattered.’

Silence descended over them. A blanket of deep thought, of mild shock perhaps. John stared away across the garden, as if he was staring away across time, and Lizzie stared at him, as thunderstruck by the degree of intimacy he’d shared with her, as she was profoundly aroused by his description.

‘Do you ever hear from him?’ she asked, after a while. She felt hot and bothered, stirred and confused still, but it would be time to move on soon, and they needed to act normally, somehow.

John turned to her. He looked tranquil, as if unaffected by his trip down memory lane, but fondness crept into his blue eyes as he spoke. ‘I get a Christmas card from him every year. Sometimes with a note. He lives in Scotland now. Married and as straight as straight can be, but blissfully happy by the sound of it. I’m glad for him. He’s a good man, and he was good to me when I needed it.’

‘So, you were just a youthful fling?’

‘More or less. Like I said, we barely lasted a few weeks at school, but it was sweet at the time.’

Were all his relationships like that? Sweet at the time, but transitory? What about his mysterious marriage, that she knew from the internet had been to a much older woman? And other relationships, surely, surely, there must have been some? Many? Who knew? She wished she’d trawled the web more assiduously now, or taken more notice of Brent’s Googlings.

His life is none of your business, Lizzie. He’ll be gone in a week or so. You’re just a fling yourself. Don’t start obsessing and yearning for more.

John looked at his slim but probably ruinously expensive watch. ‘I think we should be moving on now, sweetheart. Are you ready?’

‘I’ll call at the ladies’ cloakroom, if you don’t mind.’ Awash with wistful thoughts, her desire still hadn’t waned in the slightest. She wanted to touch herself again, but to have the moment alone. In case tears came at the moment of truth, when she couldn’t fool herself.

But in the pretty, immaculate, pink-painted cloakroom of the Bluebell Café, her body and her mind wouldn’t work together. She was aroused, but her head whirled with thoughts, and she was left uncomfortable, unresolved and confused.

Her own fingers weren’t what she wanted. She wanted John. His touch. His voice. Hurriedly she spent a penny, and washed her hands, then stared at her flurried face in the mirror. Her eyes were bright and a bit wild. She looked like an ingénue, not a supposedly confident woman of the world. She just wanted to get back to her man, even if he was only hers in the most temporary and superficial way. He’d gone to chat with the proprietors of the café, in the kitchens, where his driver Jeffrey, a friend of the family who owned the establishment, was enjoying his own coffee and presumably that delicious lemon cake.

While she was combing her hair, the cloakroom door swung open. It was a small room, and there was no way she couldn’t immediately react to the presence of a newcomer . . . especially as it was John himself.

‘What are you doing in here? This is the ladies’ room . . . the
ladies’
room!’

‘I know,’ he said, reaching her in two long strides, then grabbing her, and her bag, and propelling her towards one of the toilet cubicles. ‘But I’m not sure it’s a lady I want right now.’ He hustled her inside, and then bolted the door. The Bluebell was an old building and the cubicles were generous-sized, with enormous antique toilets like shining white porcelain thrones complete with sturdy wooden seat covers. ‘I want a woman. I want you. A delicious, randy hussy who’s always ready for my cock.’

Dropping her bag to the floor, he cupped her head in his hand and pushed her up against the side wall of the cubicle, kissing her fiercely and hauling up her skirts to slide his hands between her legs. Whatever had brought on this sudden surge of lust, so intense it compelled him to seek her out in the seclusion of an all-female enclave, she did not know. But it was as thrilling as it was fierce and unexpected.