by Galia Ryan
“I’m not sure I want to do that.”
“Really?” He was incredulous. “Can I ask why not? You know you are capable of running your own team. Or you could go out to a branch as the senior lending officer.”
“And the salary?”
“I can get you the banding.”
“You know, I’m still not sure.”
“Aren’t you looking to make your career in banking?”
This was dangerous ground.
“Of course,” she replied lightly, “Let me give it some thought.”
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to advance her career to the next level, but unexpectedly she had begun to resent the bank’s micro-management structure of the lending floor. It was well known that once some employees reached a certain level of pay grade, they had a tendency to turn into petty dictators. Previously the behaviour of her fellow workers had not given her much cause for concern—after all, she had been advancing in the same direction—but as soon as she had a financial cushion in place she wanted to move away from the bank and into a more challenging role. Equity trading perhaps.
“Hi Anna. Maddie here. I have a client for you for tonight. Can you do?”
“Sure. What’s his name?”
“Adam. Another regular.”
“Okay. When and where?”
“Eight. His place.”
She jotted down the address.
“Wow, that’s some neighbourhood.”
“You’re not kidding! All right for some.”
“What does he do?”
“No idea. Let me know if you find out.”
“Will do.”
Anna had come to like Maddie. They had met only once, but the rapport they had built up over the phone was strong. Occasionally she wondered if the girl had ever thought of becoming an escort, seeing as how close she already was to the business. Knowing firsthand how much money could be made, she must have been tempted. There was no denying she was attractive enough with her long chestnut hair. Even the light smattering of freckles across her nose took nothing away from her. One day she might just ask her.
Apart from Maddie, Anna had not met any of the other women who worked for the agency. It was not that she didn’t want to. In fact she was more than a little curious. Once, after receiving her booking, she had tentatively asked whether the other escorts were like her—women driven to the role by desperation rather than desire. Maddie had laughed, telling her that every woman had a good reason for being there.
“Will I ever meet any of them?”
“Of course you will.”
“When?”
“That’s up to Stephanie.”
Adam’s home was in a suburb where the residents drove five-year-old Jaguars and left their Aston Martins and Rolls Royce Phantoms securely tucked away in air-conditioned garages. No children were making the most of the last of the sun on the manicured lawns; in fact there were no children anywhere. Anna supposed they, too, were all hidden away, like the cars.
It was all very pleasant and very intimidating.
As the taxi pulled into the drive the wrought-iron gates immediately glided open. “Sensors and security cameras,” the cabbie offered. Anna shrunk into her seat, conscious that her arrival had been noted and suddenly realising there would have been other cameras en route. It was that type of neighbourhood.
Unlike others they had passed, her client’s house was not architecturally pretentious. Instead it was older and had the air of being a much-loved family home. The front door was already open. She took in the stylishly short hair and the casual chic of the clothing of the man waiting on the porch and wondered why she was there. Surely someone with his looks should have no need to pay for sex. She felt a sudden apprehension hoping she hadn’t been booked by a client with special needs, as Maddie put it. She had never had to deal with anything out of the ordinary before and was not sure she wanted to start. She decided to ask the taxi driver to wait a few minutes, just to be safe.
“You must be Chloe.”
Her client was holding out his hand to her. Up close she could see the imperfection of a scar, whitened with age just above his jaw line. His nose, too, showed signs of having been broken, but neither took away from the fact that he was very attractive.
“Please, come in.”
It was obvious even to her that the sumptuous but cosy sitting room he showed her into was the creation of a highly paid interior designer. But it was also a room that appeared well used. She discreetly looked around for evidence of a female presence and found none. No photographs, no discarded magazines. She wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.
“May I get you a drink?” he asked. “Champagne? I believe that’s the drink of choice.”
“Thank you. That would be lovely.”
“Piper-Heidsieck, okay?”
“Perfect.” Anna’s knowledge of fine Champagne had come a long way over the past few months.
She wandered over to the French doors and gazed out into the darkening evening.
“Your home is lovely.”
“Thank you. I only wish I’d had the opportunity to grow up here. It would have been so much fun with the estuary at the bottom of the garden.”
“I’m sure you still have fun,” she smiled. “Isn’t that a boat tied up at your jetty?”
“That,” he emphasised, passing her a flute, “is my escape route.”
“And do you need to escape?”
“I do when the fish are biting. À votre santé!” Adam raised his glass. “Please, sit down, make yourself comfortable.”
Not since her first “date” had Anna been so uncertain what was required of her.
“You are everything your portfolio promises. I congratulate you.”
“Thank you.”
“So tell me about yourself.”
This was familiar ground. While some clients had absolutely no interest in her, others needed to put her under the spotlight as if it were important to know her pedigree. Then there were those who were looking to make polite small talk before the main event. She thought Adam might be the latter type.
She had her résumé on the tip of her tongue. Not a complete one, of course.
“Well, I work in a bank,” she paused. She had discovered some clients loved that tidbit of information and had a good idea why; it offered them the chance to get back at the system. Screwing the bank that had once screwed them, so to speak. Except that once again they were the ones paying.
Adam waited politely.
“And I’m doing this to clear my credit cards. I seem to have gotten a little carried away over the past few months.”
“And the bank won’t help?”
“I didn’t think it would be a good idea to advise them of the problem. Not with the position I have. Luckily they’re not my bank’s credit cards so hopefully they won’t find out.’
“And what is your position?”
“I’m a lending specialist.”
Adam threw back his head and laughed.
“So you encourage others to get into the same situation you are in!”
“I wouldn’t put it like that.”
“No?”
“No. We ensure we employ responsible lending practices.”
“Really? That sounds an awful lot like PR-speak to me.”
She could see Adam was enjoying himself.
“It isn’t.” Why was she defending her employer when she had her own misgivings about just how flexible they could be at times? “Look, there are all sorts of safeguards in place to protect those who shouldn’t be given credit facilities.”
“And you adhere to them, no doubt. Tell me, do you have targets and bonuses to achieve?”
“I think we have spoken enough about me.” Anna spoke firmly. “Perhaps you will let me ask you some questions?”
“Feel free.”
“Okay.” She thought for a moment, wondering what she could ask without being too personal. Normally she preferred the distance of knowin
g only a limited amount about her clients. Just enough to show they were important to her if they booked her again.
“What’s the biggest fish you’ve ever caught?”
“Do we count the blue marlin off Vanuatu? That was a little over seven hundred pounds.” His eyes danced with pleasure.
“I bet you have a picture.”
He was quite attractive, she thought. Especially when he smiled.
“Of course. Do you want to see it?”
“Show me.”
“Give me your glass; I’ll fill it up at the same time.”
Anna relaxed back into the oversized and very comfortable sofa and pulled one leg up beneath herself.
“So, do you go to Vanuatu often?” she asked.
Adam turned and raised an eyebrow.
“Do you know where Vanuatu is?”
“No.”
“It’s in the Pacific, down between Fiji and Australia. It’s a series of small islands that were at one time jointly governed by the English and French.”
“Oh. That must have been fun for the locals.”
“I have no doubt it was. To answer your question though, yes. I do try to visit the area every now and then. Mainly for the fishing, but also the food. Have you ever eaten crayfish cooked on a bonfire on a beach? Or tuna fresh from the sea and so thinly sliced that it just dissolves in your mouth?”
Adam held his fingers to his lips and kissed them.
“No. But both sound wonderful. So you cook as well?”
“I have my moments.”
“And do you have any specialities?”
“Well, I make a mean pizza. From scratch.”
“Even the dough?”
“Of course.” Adam sat down beside her and passed her the replenished flute. “And I can rustle up a good curry.”
“A man of many talents, then!”
“I like to think so. What about you?”
“Well, I can cook, but I’m certainly no master chef. I once had a go at making jewellery, if that counts?”
“I think we’ll accept that. What type of jewellery?”
“Oh, nothing expensive. Earrings mainly. It was while I was at university.”
“So you have a creative side.”
“If I do, it’s a very limited one.”
This was not at all usual, Anna realised. She was enjoying herself too much.
Adam produced the photograph. “You can’t tell me you’re not impressed.”
Hanging by its tail was the trophy fish and standing beside it was a very carefree Adam. She couldn’t help noticing that even in a t-shirt that had seen better days, he still had a presence.
“So alpha male,” she teased.
“I take that as a compliment.” Adam smiled and offered her a fold of bank notes. “For you.”
She felt a pang of disappointment. But this was business, after all. What had she expected?
Tucking the money into her handbag, a recent purchase from a very exclusive designer, she wondered which of them would initiate the next move. He was looking at her with enough intensity to see into her soul, but then he lowered his eyes.
“Do you like men looking at your breasts?” he asked.
“Not always.”
He leaned forward and spoke quietly.
“I think the correct answer is ‘yes.’ ”
She nodded in understanding; unable to believe how quickly everything had changed.
“Why don’t you ask whether they please me?” he continued.
She licked her lips. Her mouth was dry. She wasn’t even sure she had the ability to speak.
“Do you find my breasts pleasing?”
“Very much so. But, under the circumstances, I think I would prefer it if we could be a little more down to earth. Why don’t we agree that we will call them tits?”
She shuddered. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t heard the word before. In fact she often used it herself in her line of work.
“Let’s try again.”
“Do you find my tits pleasing?” she asked, swallowing hard over words that were usually so easy for her.
“So much better. Yes, I do. Now let me ask you a question. Would it please you to have them touched?”
“Yes. Please touch them.” Thankfully Chloe had taken over—a professional willing and capable of assuming the role he wanted her to play.
“What exactly would you like me to touch?”
“My tits. Please touch my tits. They are aching so much.”
“Then perhaps it would be better if you removed your clothes.”
She stood and faced him. It had not taken her long to learn how to stage-manage undressing, and her performance was faultless. Naked, she lowered herself onto his lap, making sure he noticed that her nipples were already standing hard and proud. As she had known he would, he placed a hand lightly on each breast.
“Harder,” she demanded, leaning back and closing her eyes as if in pleasure. “Squeeze them.”
His touch was nowhere near enough to satisfy her, even had it been what she wanted.
“Harder.”
He removed his hands altogether.
“I’m not sure you really understand your situation, Chloe,” he said. “You are here for my pleasure. Not the other way round.”
“Oh.” She was hugely embarrassed. “Of course. I am so sorry. How may I please you?”
Anna had never misjudged a client so badly.
“I think I would like to see your tits hanging down. Would you place your arms on the back of that chair and lean forward?”
“Of course.”
He stood beside her and cupped each dangling breast in turn, weighing it and feeling the fullness. To her horror she felt herself respond when he grasped a nipple, pulling it downward as if to milk her.
Unable to help herself, she groaned loudly.
“Please control yourself.”
“I’m trying,” she gasped.
He continued to attend to her tits and nipples with one hand while the other rested on her back. Pleasure beyond anything she had known coursed through her, and unintentionally she bucked her hips again.
“Chloe.” She heard his annoyance.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice wavered. She really did want to carry out his wishes; it was after all what she was being paid to do.
“Stand up.”
Her nipples were painfully hard. She waited obediently, hoping that he would touch her again, anything to relieve the ache. He stared openly at the patch of dark hair between her legs.
“Please,” she begged without thinking.
“Have you forgotten already?”
“No.” Her voice shook.
“No, what?”
She had no idea what he wanted from her.
He walked behind her.
“No, Master,” he whispered into her ear.
“No, Master,” she repeated, thankful for the instruction.
“That’s better. Again.”
“No, Master.”
“Now tell me what it is that you haven’t forgotten.”
“That I am here for your pleasure, Master. Not my own.”
“Good. Now we can really begin.”
Chapter 10.
“You are so beautiful.”
Adam was standing in front of her, his fingers tracing patterns on her skin. Over her shoulders, around her breasts, down over her belly, up her sides and then down again over the smoothness of her back to the perfect curve of her backside. Little shockwaves ran through her as each area received his touch.
To her frustration he went nowhere near her nipples or her cunt. He obviously wanted her to be fully aware of the extent of her need, although her ragged breathing should have told him that was already the case.
“Chloe.”
She opened her eyes and tried to focus.
“Yes?” She almost forgot but quickly added, “Master?”
“Do you really want to please me?”
“Oh yes, Master!”
/> This time her response was immediate.
“And what if my pleasure is that your own need is left unsatisfied?”
“I will do whatever you wish, Master.”
“Excellent. Chloe, have you ever journeyed to the edge?”
She had no idea what he was talking about.
Adam’s hands were at last skirting over her more sensitive areas and with each touch she let out an involuntary moan.
“Once you have been there, you will beg to be taken back. Do you understand what I am telling you?”
“Yes, Master.”
“My beautiful Chloe, you really have no idea. But I will show you. Not today, but soon. And when I do, you will discover that the exquisite pain of being denied release allows you to reach an exalted state where every part of you feels alive. You will beg to be used; you will beg to please.”
His hand was now between her legs, a finger parting the lips of her cunt and sliding between. She was soaking. He had found the button of her clit and was rubbing it. Oh God, she would cum if he didn’t stop.
“For now, are you prepared to give up your own release, your own pleasure, while I take mine?”
She was so close, so close.
“Chloe. Are you forgetting our agreement already?”
‘No, Master. Oh no, Master.”
She was not Chloe, she was Anna and almost delirious, her body demanding one thing, her mind another. She was holding on to him, her arms around his neck, knowing that if he instructed her to let go she wouldn’t have the strength to remain upright.
“Please, I beg you, Master. Use me in some other way. Please, Master. Don’t touch me anymore. I’m going to cum.”
“Touch you where, Chloe?”
“My cunt, Master. Please don’t touch my cunt anymore.”
“But, if it pleases me to touch your cunt, then what, Chloe? Are you making a demand on me?”
“No, Master,” she wailed.
