'Well, that's not far from the truth,' he said, brow furrowed.
'Good. It'll be all the more convincing then. Come on, let's play.'
I sat back and waited for him to make the opening gambit, wondering if I would actually go through with it. Sex with a man I didn't really fancy, just for the sake of satisfying my newly discovered kink. It was my fantasy, but would it crumble in the face of reality? I had to know. I decided then and there that I would have one rule in my game, and the rule was that I could not say no. Obviously I could, in the face of danger or serious illegality – but up to that point, I would say yes to everything and everyone.
'OK then,' he said, sitting back and determinedly getting into role. 'How much for half an hour?'
'Two hundred,' I said.
'Two hundred? For half an hour? You must be good.'
'I am. Do you want to find out how good?'
'I think I do. Hold on a minute though . . . I thought you said this would be a freebie?'
'Yes, yes,' I said impatiently. 'It will be. But in the game, I cost two hundred.' I lowered my voice, looked him straight in the eye. 'In real life, I'm a no-strings free fuck.'
'Christ knows you don't get many of them,' said the man, his voice a little uneven. 'Right then. Let's go to my room, shall we?'
'Yes.'
In the lift on the way up, I stared at the pair of us in the mirror. He looked a little crumpled and slightly sweaty. I looked like a tart. It would have been pretty obvious to all in the bar and lobby what our relationship was.
Now we were out of the public areas of the hotel, he seemed to gain an assertiveness that had been only half-present in the bar.
'So you had a long night,' he said, his tone rather severe.
'Yes.' I blushed. 'I didn't get much sleep.'
'Time for bed then, eh?'
He took my arm as the lift door slid open and escorted me along the corridor, our feet sinking in the deep pile of the carpet as if we were walking through snow.
It was only when he slipped his key card into the slot that I began to have misgivings. The solicitor was one thing – carried along on a wave of lust that knocked doubts for six – but this was another. A strange man's hotel room.
Could I really go through with this?
My escort answered the question for me. He strode straight over to the bed, sat down on the edge and unzipped his fly.
'Right, if I'm paying two hundred for this, I want my money's worth. Let's see you with your clothes off.'
His sudden switch to 'in charge' mode awakened my wilder streak. I straightened my spine, did a little twirl and threw the jacket I was carrying on to a chair. Never having done a striptease before, I was unsure of the ritual, but once I had unbuttoned and shimmied out of my skirt, everything seemed to flow naturally. Down to the lacy camisole, silk French knickers and lace hold-ups, I slowed the action, teasingly pretending to drop something and bending over to pick it up, or standing with one foot on the dresser while I ran my hands up my leg. I could see myself, at a peculiar angle, in the wardrobe mirror and I was impressed by the figure I cut. I momentarily considered a career in burlesque. If only I had a feathery fan and a Venetian mask.
Indeed, I was loving my work so much that I almost forgot my 'client' was waiting until I was forced by his impatient cough to look back at him. His fist was closed around his erect cock, his face quite red and collar loosened.
'We've only got half an hour,' he reminded me brusquely. 'I'm not paying you to dance. Get the rest of your kit off then get down on your knees over here.'
'OK, just one more move,' I promised him, hip-swaying over to the fruit bowl and taking the banana from the top. I peeled it slowly, ran my tongue up the exposed pale yellow flesh and swirled its tip around the top of the fruit.
'On your knees, now!' entreated the client, groaning when I simultaneously put one hand down the front of my knickers and the banana in my mouth, swishing it around in there, sucking on it for all I was worth. 'Sod the banana, wrap your lips around this!'
He leant back, presenting his cock to me in all its fat purple-crowned glory. Giggling, I tossed the banana aside and fell to my knees in mock-worship of his manhood, ogling and caressing it as if it were made of gold. Slowly and deliberately I ran my tongue around my lips, staring boldly up at him, before taking the plunge, closing my mouth over the considerable girth, forming a seal and sucking for all I was worth.
My fingers played with his balls, squeezing gently and sometimes creeping back to push against his perineum, which tightened the sac all the more. Even when my mouth began to ache, I revelled in the effect I was having on him, his helpless little yaps of pleasure spurring me on to greater efforts. He was going to remember this as the blow job of his life; if I was going to play the part of the expensive hooker, I was going to do it properly.
My tongue played lightly against his steely erection, flicking up and down the shaft and around the frenulum. One of my hands closed tightly around his base while I worked at fitting more and more of him into my mouth; the other continued its foray around his testicles. He was shaking now, making strangled utterances, his hands clenching and unclenching in my hair; the end could not be far off.
'Lap it up, slut,' he panted, before roaring and thrusting into my face. A burst of liquid saltiness filled my mouth, pumping in and down my throat for what seemed like a long time. Even when I thought I had swallowed the lot and slid off his cock, an extra jet squirted on to my breasts, staining the lace border of my camisole.