nervous my stomach was threatening to call a halt to the proceedings. I also felt excited. In my
fantasies I had often imagined walking through a swanky hotel lobby, catching a lift and gently tapping on a stranger’s hotel room door. My make-believe client was always stinking rich and I
always negotiated extra for anything more than a blow job. Somehow I also always ended up doing a striptease routine for the gentleman while he lay naked on the bed stroking his thick cock. This
was not quite that dream scenario, but as I sat there, I definitely felt like a whore. It was time to apply some lipgloss; men like glistening lips.
My mobile rang. An unnamed mobile number appeared on the screen.
“Hello, Stephanie Escorts,” I said cheerfully.
“How much for a fuck?” said a soft Irish voice.
The vulgarity heightened my excitement. “One hundred,” I answered.
“How about anal?”
“Not with this girl, but I can give you the number of a tart who does.” I hoped that negotiating over my arse was all part of the game, but I have to know a guy really well before I
allow him to push it into my delicate back passage.
“Not to worry, room two-one-five.” He hung up.
It was hard, very hard to walk through the small modern reception area without making guilty laden eye contact with the middle-aged woman at reception. Though to my credit, I did play the game;
I courageously fought back the urge to raise my budgie ring up from the low position it had descended to back at the pub. I desperately tried to look like I knew where I was going. I was so pleased
to see the lift sitting there with its doors open. As nonchalantly as I could, I stepped inside and pressed button two.
Ronan was sitting on a chair with five twenty-pound notes in a pile on the desk to his left.
“I like the dress,” he said.
“I hope you like what’s inside it more,” I quipped as I leaned over to take the money.
His hand went straight up my dress and planted itself firmly on my crotch. This was not the way I usually liked sex, but then again, I had never got laid like this before. It felt scary and it
felt exhilarating at the same time. As I stuffed the notes into my handbag I parted my legs a bit. The side of one finger pressed into my slit taking the thin strip of fabric with it. Now he knew I
was not lying about wearing thongs for work; he also now knew how aroused I was. Suddenly two fingers hooked into the gusset and tugged them down to my ankles. He clearly felt he had bought the
right to treat me badly. As long as he did not push it too far, that was fine with me. I had not gone there to be a good girl.
With my thong stretched out between my ankles his right hand went back between my legs and his left forefinger hooked itself through the budgie ring. He tugged it all the way down to my navel.
Quickly he opened up the resulting long gash to expose my chest. He then started to take a bit more time. He gently caressed my pussy, occasionally moving up to stroke the carefully trimmed strip
of pubic hair. I like to keep a neat but substantial bush above my slit. Ronan’s fingers continued to caress and gently probe between my labia. His eyes drilled through my bra. I knew he
wanted me to remove it but now we were moving into the stage where I took control. I made him wait; I wanted to be even wetter.
When I was sure his fingers would be almost dripping with my juices I unhooked my bra and pulled it under my tits. I dropped my eyes to check my nipples. I always like to know how I’m
looking. They were nicely gorged. Ronan displayed his appreciation by slipping one finger deep inside me. While I was still standing there with my underwear displaced and my dress still on, he
inserted a second finger and started to smoothly finger-fuck me. I indulged my client. Rarely did finger-fucking do much for me, I like to be fucked by cock, but I enjoyed the look of shear lust on
Ronan’s face. After all, he was paying, so if he wanted to
Ann Fogarty, Anne Crawford