The Accidental Call Girl (8 page)

John smiled, interesting crinkles forming at the corner of his brilliant eyes. Why hadn’t she honed in on slightly older men before? The fit ones were devastatingly attractive. Especially the sophisticated blond variety who were in their forties and gorgeous with it.

‘I’m not complaining.’ He brushed her hair back from her face where the black strands lay across her cheek. ‘Why should I object to getting better value for money? A real response is worth a thousand feigned ones, and everything about you is a bonus, Bettie.’

‘Well, at the risk of this turning into a mutual admiration fest, you’re a pretty exceptional client, Mr Smith.’ It wasn’t a lie. He’d have been a gorgeous treat even if he wasn’t her only client, faux or otherwise.

‘Ah, but isn’t it in the escorts’ code that you
have
to tell all of us that?’

She guessed it was. Men always wanted to know that they were exceptional, even if they weren’t, and if they were paying for a woman’s company a little bit of ego stroking was all part of the service.

‘Well, yes, sort of, but I try not to get myself into a situation where I have to say it . . . unless I mean it.’ When he leant over her, looking into her eyes, she tried to shuffle away a bit, knowing she was in danger of revealing herself. The motion made her wince as the duvet cover scratched her tender bottom.

‘Touché.’ His hand settled on her bare belly, spread fingertips just brushing the edge of her bush. ‘I suppose I’ll never get a straight answer out of you, will I?’

Now was the time to tell him. But she couldn’t quite get the words out. He seemed so relaxed and comfortable with the escort experience. Knowing she wasn’t one would just make things complicated. Especially about the money. She resolved to put most of it aside from now on, to give it back to him eventually, apart from a bit for expenses. If such an obviously wealthy man like him had been courting her properly he would probably have spent far more on gifts and meals and whatnot anyway.

‘What on earth are you thinking about, Bettie? You’re frowning. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were doing your expenses in your head.’

‘No! No way! Sorry . . . I just got a bit distracted. I’m so sorry.’ She tried to sit up, but his hand remained firm upon her, so she reached up and put her arms around his neck, drawing him down for a quick kiss. His lips were firm, yet evocative with that delicious velvet plushness too. With a dart of his tongue, he responded, kissing her back beautifully. Against her thigh, she felt his erection, still hard as iron.

‘Would you like to fuck now, John?’ She moved herself against him, ignoring the pangs in her bottom. They were fainter now, anyway, amazingly so. He seemed to be something of an artist where spanking was concerned. Maybe he knew how to lay it on without any lasting damage after all? ‘Would you like me to take my clothes off?’ His bare chest looked so nice, and she could only imagine how lovely it would feel to press her bare breasts against him as they embraced.

‘No, not this time.’ He brushed her hair again, then ran a fingertip down the dark lapel of her suit. ‘I’ve a yen to have you while you’re still wearing this. I love women in sexy suits. The more severe looking the better. The contrast between strict, crisp lines and wanton animal horniness really gets me going. The idea of a deliciously hot wet pussy beneath a flannel pencil skirt . . . mmm . . . irresistible.’

‘Mine’s not beneath . . . ah!’ She gasped as he cupped her sex, gripping her roughly, a finger going determinedly for her clit.

‘Near enough,’ he said, a split second before kissing her again and massaging her pussy.

Lizzie writhed on the bed, rubbing her reddened bottom against the duvet, loving both the painful heat there and the heat John was creating between her thighs, playing with her. Whimpers tried to escape from her lips, but he absorbed them with his own, his finger working her tirelessly until she squealed into his mouth, coming intensely.

‘Lie still,’ he said as she lay panting, and she almost laughed. There wasn’t much chance of anything else. She felt sideswiped, and all she could do was watch John as, to her surprise, he wrenched at his soft shirt and almost tore it off, then attacked his jeans.

Naked. He was naked. What a feast.

John Smith’s body was lean and well-formed, beautifully proportioned. He didn’t have the hard-cut muscle of a gym bunny in his twenties, but he was fit and toned, and she wondered what he did to stay that way. Probably a private trainer or two. She immediately felt jealous, hoping he didn’t work out with a woman. Perhaps he swam; that was great for all-over condition.

‘You’re frowning again. I’m not in that bad nick, am I?’ He grinned as he reached beneath the heap of chintz-covered pillows at the head of the bed, for a condom.

‘No, you look great, actually. I was just wondering what you do to keep fit. I should really go to a gym or something myself.’

John paused, condom wrapper half torn open. ‘Well, thank you, Miss Bettie. I suppose you have to say that, because that’s in the whore’s operating manual too. But at my age I’m still flattered.’ He ripped open the package, and rolled on the contraceptive with admirable speed and dexterity, considering he was staring at her thighs, and her belly. ‘And I’d say your own exercise regime is working perfectly. Your body’s magnificent, sweetheart. Sheer perfection.’

Lunging forward, he lay between her thighs, kissing her again and stroking her hair. His weight pressed her to the mattress, stirring her fiery bottom, especially when he rocked his hips against hers, pressing his latex-covered cock between her sex-lips.

‘What do you mean “my age”? You’re not old, you stupid sod!’

Oh my God, why the hell did I say that? What a moment.

John laughed, but his mirth and her tactlessness didn’t seem to hamper proceedings. With a smooth roll of his pelvis, he pushed into her, deep and easy.

‘Well, that’s not the usual sort of remark a man comes to expect just as he’s slipping his cock into a woman, but as it’s you, I’ll let you off. Oh, and by the way, I’m forty-six . . . and a bit.’ Grabbing her bottom mercilessly to adjust his angle, he made her gasp. ‘And please don’t say I don’t look it,’ he finished, bedding himself in to the hilt and burying his face in her hair.

‘I wouldn’t dream of it. And anyway, forty-six is nothing. You’re still a young stud in your prime,’ she panted, flexing against him, loving the feel of him inside her, even loving the pangs of pain in her bottom where he held on to her. Her sex clenched around him, ready, ready, ready to ignite into orgasm, she grabbed on to him as hard he held her.

‘Good. I’m glad you think so,’ he said happily, his voice gruff as he manipulated her sore thighs, almost doubling her up, pulling them up to rest on his hips. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to hook her ankles together at the base of his spine. She almost laughed. She was still wearing her high heels. They would dig into him but he didn’t seem to care. Maybe he even liked it? Perhaps he liked feeling pleasure-pain as much as inflicting it?

Now there was a thing . . .

Their bodies raged at each other. John thundered into her; Lizzie bucked up against him, meeting each lunge, pounding her body against his, stimulating herself with the force of her own movements as much as with the furore of his.

He was in deep, so deep. He filled her completely and seemed to fill her more than physically. An emptiness greater than simply that of her sex was stuffed to the brim. Emptiness of her life, disappointments and failures, paths not followed, all were expunged in that moment of completion.

As her orgasm engulfed her, she laughed out loud. Full of a pure, unadulterated happiness that she wasn’t sure she’d experienced since her childhood.

‘Oh God, oh God, oh God,’ she crooned, enchanted. And it was like an echo bouncing around the chintz-clad room; John chanting the same thing, the very same thing as he powered harder, his hips jerking like an infernal mechanism as he too reached his climax.

Afterwards, for a few seconds, she could barely breathe. Barely think. Only feel.

I’ve been laid waste to . . . and I love it, love it, love it. I . . .

As she lay holding on to his hot body, and savouring the weight of it, as before, a single tear trickled from the corner of her eye. Post-coital
tristesse
, she supposed, but it was no use wanting things to be different.

They were what they were.

‘I’m sorry. I did it again, didn’t I?’ He heaved himself off her and flopped back onto the bed, at her side.

‘Did what?’

‘Behaved like a slavering beast. Hurled myself at you like an animal.’ He sat up, grinning wryly as he dealt with the condom. ‘You wouldn’t think that I pride myself as a sophisticated lover, would you? I seem to turn into the King of the Jungle the moment I start to fuck you.’

‘I’m not complaining. I like a bit of enthusiasm. And besides, I’m being paid.’ Lizzie hauled herself up too, with some difficulty. She actually did feel a bit like she’d been mauled by a lion, although in the best possible way. Twitching her skirt down from its bundle around her mid-section, she wondered where on earth her knickers had got to. They were really nice ones, among the best she’d ever had. Catering to a high-class ‘punter’ had been an excuse to indulge herself.

Sitting with his arms around his knees, smiling at her, John said, ‘Well, that’s all right, then. But next time, I’ll try to exercise a bit more finesse. And last longer, for one thing. I’m usually pretty good on the stamina front . . . but it’s been a while, and you really are so very beautiful. It’s difficult not to indulge my baser side.’

‘Well, thank you . . . I think.’ She smiled back at him, loving the softer look she saw now in his perceptive blue eyes. His honesty about his own sexual performance was refreshing. And modest. In this quiet moment, it was bizarre to think of the effortless way he’d dominated her, not all that long ago. More and more, he unveiled his complexity.

Only moments ago, she’d resolved simply to enjoy the game, and perhaps the prospect of a few more intense sessions like this, with probably the most exciting and intriguing man she’d ever met. But those subversive thoughts surfaced again, yearnings for what she couldn’t have.

What would it have been like if they’d met in the bar, chatted, and then decided to spend the night together? Like a normal couple?

Maybe they’d both be naked now, and curled in each other’s arms, preparing for sleep? His body was beautiful, but she also sensed it could be comforting too. It was a long time since she’d had an all-nighter with a man. God, it was a long time since she’d been with a man at all. There’d been one or two brief flings and flirtations since her short but basically unsatisfactory love affair with Brent, but that was all. It was no wonder she was all over John Smith like a cheap suit, lapping him up.

She opened her mouth to suggest she knew not what, but he pre-empted her, reaching out and brushing his thumb along her lower lip. ‘Still very pink . . . how do you manage that? With other girls I’ve often ended up smeared with all sorts of gunk.’ He rubbed his own lip with his other thumb, ‘But apart from a bit of stickiness, I’ve remained remarkably unsmeared. What’s your secret?’

‘Lip-stain.’ The desire to suck his thumb into her mouth again, and mimic oral sex, was hard to resist. Despite all her orgasms, she found herself wanting him again. ‘It’s like a pen. Sort of indelible until you use proper make-up remover. You draw it on, then put gloss on top . . . and I’ve got naturally rosy lips too. That helps.’

‘Delectable,’ said John softly. Lizzie glanced down. Was he hardening again? It looked as if he might be on the verge of it. ‘I think next time we meet, I shall have to sample the esoteric delights of this mouth.’ He slid his thumb to and fro, very, very gently. ‘I should imagine it will be a very fine thing to slip my cock between such exquisite, indelibly pink lips.’

She stole another quick look at his groin. Yes, definite liveliness, definite thickening. ‘I . . . er . . . I could stay a while, and you could have that sample, if you like?’ He withdrew his thumb. His blue eyes narrowed a little. ‘I mean . . . off the clock. A freebie. On the house.’

Oh God, I sound so desperate. No escort in her right mind would do that, even if she really, really liked the man. Especially if she liked him.

No, it wouldn’t do to mix business with pleasure. She could see that in the expression on John’s face. It was guarded now, distanced. Shit, she’d put him off.

But to her relief, he smiled. ‘Well that’s one of the sweetest offers I’ve had in a long time, Bettie, and I do appreciate it.’ He leant forward and kissed where his thumb had been, very briefly, very lightly. ‘But I don’t do all-nighters. Sorry.’

Disappointment sluiced through her like a cold shower. That and anger at her own ridiculousness. He was a ‘client’ and she was a ‘whore’. Or at least he believed she was. And he clearly wanted her out of the way now, as she was just a pleasant interlude for him. He wasn’t the one who was deceiving anybody; it was simply what he’d signed up and paid for, nothing more.

‘Never mind. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. Not very professional of me, was it?’

‘No, not really.’ His voice was neutral, yet somehow almost challenging. Was this the moment to tell him?

The words rose to her lips but before she could utter them, he’d slid off the bed and lightly onto his feet, reaching for his blue robe.

‘I guess you want me to leave now.’ She could have kicked herself for the disappointed tone. Good Lord, she sounded almost petulant, like a spoiled kid who’d had her lolly pinched.

If he was annoyed, or tired, he didn’t show it. ‘No, you don’t have to rush off, sweetheart. Unless of course you’ve got other plans?’ Knotting his sash, he shrugged. ‘I would love to avail myself of your services a little longer, but alas, I’ve got quite a bit of work I need to catch up on tonight, while it’s fresh in my mind. You could have a drink before you leave, though, and give yourself time to decompress? If you like?’

He was just being nice now. How odd. Half an hour ago, he’d been so quietly imperious that she’d have crawled across the room on hands and knees to him, dripping with arousal. Half an hour ago, she’d been willing, more than willing, to accept the thrashing of a lifetime from him. Well, another one . . .