Escort Unleashed (Emma Book 2)

by James Grey

  “Anybody can sign up to advertise on here,” hints Miss Jackson. “And maybe one of those spare rooms in your flat could handle the odd visitor?”

  I nod thoughtfully.

  “Look, she won’t do as well as with an agent,” she says. “Because the super-rich use agents and that’s that. But she could still get £300 for a session. It’s good money, decent experience and great for the CV with all those public reviews. Tell her to sign up: I’d be happy to be her first client.”

  Once again my weird world comes sharply into focus as I look at the plain, yet strong and liberated woman in front of me, talking about paying my friend – okay, girlfriend – to have sex with her in my new flat. I’m not quite sure if she’s being serious, but the most stunning thing is that I’m okay with it.

  I smile. “Thank you Miss – I mean, Miranda…I’ll let you know as soon as her profile is up. It’s such a good idea. We should have thought about it before, really!”

  Despite the unnerving revelation about Spurring, I feel light and happy. Things are looking up. Miranda Jackson has put a positive spin on everything, and I can’t wait to tell Sarah her great new idea when I get home.

  Chapter XIV

  The scene is one of utter chaos. People are whooping, hollering and just about knocking each other over. Beyond all the squealing and screeching, my hallway is littered with boxes and bags. It’s a noisy mess.

  I’ve just moved into my new flat. And if that isn’t confusing enough, Latifa and Alyssia have just arrived. The volcanic energy of their greeting is a reminder of what a hectic few days this is going to be. Maybe I should have thought twice about moving house on the same day as their arrival. I haven’t even unpacked yet!

  The hugs and kisses – on the lips all around, inevitably – go on for several minutes. The Australian and the Omani fill the room with the infectious warmth of their homelands. After doing her very best to knock both Sarah and me off our feet more than once, Alyssia finally takes a step beyond the entrance hallway. She gives a low whistle.

  “Jesus Christ, Emma! I know you said you were earning well, but I wasn’t quite expecting a fucking palace!”

  Sarah laughs. “She’s been pretty restrained, actually. She could have bought the Taj Mahal I think! Hey, come look at this view!”

  Even Latifa is lost for words as she contemplates the outlook over the Thames and London’s most famous landmark, and then the endless urban skyline beyond. “Oh my,” she murmurs. “Oh my, oh my, oh my…”

  She shakes her head gently and looks at me. “I’m so happy for you, girl! Look how quickly things have changed in a few weeks for you. Not so long ago you had to share a bedroom with that blonde scorpion!”

  We all chuckle at the memory of me rooming with Petra, which seems a lifetime ago. Then I hear a shriek from the bathroom. Alyssia’s obviously slipped in and spotted my epic tub.

  “Holy shit, ladies!” We follow the sound to its breathless source. “We are so getting naked and sipping champagne in this! I’m having you officially evicted if we don’t!”

  “Something told me you were going to say something like that in the first three minutes,” I grin. “Well, we’ll be popping the bath’s virginity I guess. I’ve only been moved in three hours, after all!”

  “I think it’ll take the four of us,” chimes in Sarah. “But it’ll be real cosy.”

  “Even better,” purrs Latifa.

  Clearly this is going to happen, whether I like it or not.

  “And the champagne is on the way,” adds Sarah. “My treat.”

  As if on cue, the door buzzer sings. The little camera reveals a cute, dark-haired delivery boy. He’s barely into his twenties, and there’s a cheeky look about him.

  Before I can do anything to stop her, Latifa presses the talk button and puts on her most seductive voice. “Come on up, sweetie. And feel free to take off your shirt.”

  Latifa is incorrigible! I put my hands over my mouth, but behind them I’m smiling. I can’t believe she just said that! Never a dull moment with that girl around. I wait nervously with the others in the hallway, curious to see what will happen.

  A minute goes by, and then he’s at our door. He’s bearing two enormous magnums of Dom Pérignon. Woah, this looks dangerous. He didn’t take the shirt thing seriously, of course. But there’s a youthful glow in his cheeks and the kind of smile on his face that says we’ve just made his day.

  It’s Latifa who opens up the door. With the rest of us crowded into the corridor not far behind her, we must make an intimidating sight for the poor guy.

  “Those look so heavy, babe!” she coos. “Don’t you feel like coming in and being our butler? Fancy serving four ladies while they enjoy the best bathtub in London?”

  We giggle, his grin turns to a gape, and Latifa ploughs on.

  “You’d have to lose the shirt, though!”

  The poor boy doesn’t know what to say or do. He probably thinks he’s being teased right now. But then he doesn’t know Latifa. I’d say at least half of her isn’t kidding. And I can’t kid myself either: the thought of the picture she’s painting is making a warm feeling develop some place beneath my belly button.

  “She’s not joking,” says Alyssia helpfully. The strong Perth girl steps forward and relieves him of the bottles with a heave. I watch in fascination as his eyes drop to the ample cleavage she’s left on display for her journey to London. She holds one bottle in each hand, cocks her head with an air of theatre, raises her eyebrows questioningly, and lets the invitation sink in.

  These crazy girls. They haven’t even been here ten minutes, and already we’re on the verge of something mad.

  There’s an awkward silence, and I worry that he’s going to crumble into a pool of melted nerves, or run for his life. Poor boy. He looks so sweet and innocent, especially facing up to this brazen pair!

  But when he opens his mouth, his voice is surprisingly steady. It’s also much deeper than I expect for a guy with such spritely features. I wonder if he has a few years of smoking under his belt. Whatever, there’s no trace of nerves when he speaks.

  “Ladies, it would be my pleasure,” he says, making sure to look each of us in the eye, one by one. His confidence definitely has an effect on me. You can sense our awe filling the entrance hall. Suddenly he’s the one who owns this scene. “But I’ve only just started my shift, and I can’t just take off. I don’t finish until eight. It’s only my third day on the job, after all!”

  I glance across at Sarah and make big, wide-awake eyes at her. I’m dying to know what’s going to happen next in this game they’re playing.

  “Why don’t you girls put those bottles on ice and we pick this up a few hours later?” he suggests forcefully. “You really don’t want to drink them now, trust me. They’ve been in the back of my van all morning. So take my number, and call me after eight.”

  Wow. He totally took her up on it. And I bet she won’t back down on what she’s started. I feel a flush of excitement and thank myself for having the good sense to take the three days off while our friends are visiting. I’m already thinking this night could get out of hand – and it’s only lunch time!

  The air is heavy with sex. And it’s not just because of the attractive guy at the door. I sense something big is coming between the four of us. Now that we’re away from the weird environment of the school and I’ve lightened up considerably, things might get pretty wild. After all, the tension has been building pretty much from the day that Latifa and Alyssia spread sun lotion over my naked body at the poolside. I was just never able to let go quite the way they surely wanted me to. And, for all their wicked ways, they never pushed me. Then I got distracted by Sarah.

  Now, though, I’m feeling a definite twitch in my leg, and I’m playing with my hair. Sure signs.

  Alyssia, meanwhile, is being the practical one and punching his number into her phone. Turns out his name is Scott. She rings his device once. His ring tone is one that gets the others dancing, but I don’t e
ven know it. I’m a couple of years the senior of these student types, I suppose. I close my eyes, trying to stop my thoughts running away with me. My God, I am just going to be so horny by tonight. Unless…

  “Can’t wait, gorgeous,” calls Latifa, interrupting my little reverie. He’s walking away now, giving us a glimpse of a nicely-sculpted ass just before the door shuts. Latifa closes it, turns around and licks her lips.

  “Oh God, you two!” I say with a shake of my head. “Okay, whatever happens…don’t wreck my new place, okay?” Moving in was painless since I paid a couple of burly guys with a van to take care of all the carrying, and I don’t want anything to go wrong now. I had half a mind to enlist the others to help me get all the boxes unpacked this afternoon, before heading out in the evening. But I can tell that’s not going to happen.

  Latifa, with barely a thought to the bags strewn across the entrance area, claps her hands and calls us to attention. “Right, now there’s something to look forward to, eh ladies? Now I think it’s time we partied. This is our reunion, after all, so I hope you’re all ready for a bit of wild!”

  “But it’s only one o’clock ’Tifa!” laughs Sarah.

  “Well it’s seven o’clock in Perth,” chimes Alyssia firmly. “So it’s beer time where I come from. None of us have anywhere to be today, right? No? So…lunch and booze it is. Nothing like an early start.”

  “We haven’t ever gotten wasted together before, can you believe it?” Latifa reminds us. “When better to start than on a Tuesday afternoon? We rock, ladies – simple as that!”

  Nobody bothers to get changed before we head down to one of my extremely local restaurants. We settle on seafood, and order whatever we want. Between my credit card and that of Alyssia’s dad, there’s plenty of money around the table. What’s more, I sense we feel no real need to smarten up.

  I mean, I don’t need to go looking for men right now. Nor do I need to bitchily try to outdo the other women here. There are more than enough posers in this part of London, but I feel wonderfully content with myself. After all, men want me enough to pay a lot of money for me.

  And as for edging the other females in the vicinity, I’m not like that. And anyway, the quiet knowledge that I’m so in demand is more than enough for me. That, and the fact that I’m certain that all four of us – and most women, in fact – can easily do what I do. If there were any sense of bitchy superiority in me, it would probably come from knowing that I’m one of the rare ones brave enough to choose the path I’ve chosen. It’s a great feeling, and the best part about it is that I don’t need makeup or heels to feel it. It comes with me everywhere I go; a cloak of confidence that I hope will never become a cloak of smugness.

  Mussels in white wine sauce kick off proceedings, and our excited visitors have finally managed to calm down to the point where we can quiz them on their plans beyond this afternoon.

  Alyssia’s been back at her working holiday job serving drinks in a Newcastle nightclub, which is where she first met Latifa of course. She’s a little bored of that now, though, and misses her mates back home. Especially now winter is here. She’s definitely keen to start selling her body; it’s just a question of whether she heads back to Australia or gives London a go.

  “Do they have agents like Lucy in Australia?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “Dunno. There’s probably not quite so many millionaires, I guess. Money isn’t everything. But on the other hand, your life here seems pretty fun. I don’t know if Aussie men have as much imagination as they’ve got over here, so maybe I just do a Miss Ridgewell and hit it hard for a couple of years before retiring back home? I’ve got a couple left on the visa.”

  Like Latifa, Alyssia used an agent who set them up with their place at the school for a small charge. There’s no other way, since direct dealing with the school is impossible. Unlike me with my sponsor Charles, they paid their own fees. So, no obligations to the agent. Still, they’d both be likely to slot into work easily enough if they wanted to.

  “Remember we made a deal that time you were using the bath in our room?” laughs Latifa with that distinctive cackle of hers. “We said we’d definitely all come to London and we’d all join the same agency! But I’ve got my studies to finish first, and it wouldn’t really be fair to have made you wait!”

  “We didn’t know much, did we?” I giggle. “Judging by the trouble Sarah’s having, we couldn’t necessarily all just slot in with Lucy either. She’s so picky, and hardly ever takes new girls.”

  “I think we could get in with Julia, the agent who set us up, though,” says Alyssia. “We’ve had a few calls from her. Not pushy ones, really, but…word of our chemistry together seems to have gotten around just a little.”

  My mind goes back to my chat with Miss Jackson, and I wonder just how much word has gotten around, and about what. Everyone knows everyone in this game, didn’t she say?

  Latifa’s situation is a little more complicated. She needs to stay in the UK – specifically Newcastle – until May, when she’ll complete her degree. After that, she’s still quite set on going back to work in Oman. Apparently with the full knowledge and support of her parents. I shake my head slowly when I hear this. I’m almost not surprised. I’m more jealous than anything, that her family can be so open.

  She’s free to spend time in London fairly often between now and then, but she couldn’t sign up to an agency. She’ll be visiting me again, that’s for sure, but she says she’s in no hurry to get started working. It’s not like money’s an issue for her. It’s the same for Alyssia, really. Their families are both loaded, and the girls are both ultimately just enjoying life over here. As they will wherever they go.

  I do wonder if that agent Julia would take Alyssia without her partner in crime. On her own, she’s got tons of great attitude and a heap of skill, but perhaps not quite the airbrushed, feminine look most guys want. She resolves to go and see the agent before getting on a train back up north. I tell her she’s welcome to stay at mine, although part of me wonders what I’m getting into. Sarah’s cool and lovely, but even one half of Latifa and Alyssia on a long-time basis would make both my brain and my ears hurt.

  Sarah tells the others of her plans to sign up to the app Miss Jackson showed me, and they’re predictably excited for her. Sorting her profile out is on the list for tomorrow. One way or another, it looks like we’re all going places.

  The world’s longest lunch ends around five, which means we can start going to bars. We switch from white wine to cocktails, ordering drinks I’ve never considered in places I’d never have stepped in before. Money really does change a few things in life!

  The clientele in most of these places is a post-work crowd from the city. It is Tuesday, after all. These people are a lot smarter than we are, and I get that same vibe I got from the property agents. We look so young and casual that we could easily feel out of place. And some people clearly think we are.

  But I really don’t need to care about that. And it’s fantastic that I don’t need to fit in anymore. It’s a wonderful feeling.

  Because I know that, if I felt like it, I could make any of the men here grovel before me and pay for the privilege. And if the women give me sneering looks, then I just smile to myself, remembering that the joke’s on them.

  “You know, they spend their lives checking email and going to meetings, trying desperately to show how they can get ahead in a man’s world,” I murmur to the girls after Sarah spots one particular female in a grey suit give us a disdainful look.

  “And you earn twice as much in a day just for sucking a cock or two!” grins Latifa, pretty much finishing my sentence for me. With the subtlety of a hammerhead shark, as usual.

  “It’s quite fun watching them make fools of themselves,” I add. “Sitting here knowing what power I’ve got. Hell, any of those banker guys in expensive suits could be a client of mine. It’s a pretty awesome feeling.”

  “Not so worried about meeting a client in public any more, then?” Sarah te
ases, knowing not to say anything about Spurring. She’s the only one I’ve shared all my fears with.

  “Maybe I’m getting there,” I say thoughtfully, wondering if it’s just the cocktails that are letting me ruminate on the idea of crossing paths with a client without having a heart attack.

  Although it does suddenly hit me that I’m only living a couple of underground stops away from my last job now. And Spurring. And her.

  “Let’s not talk about work, okay?” I suggest. “We’re getting drunk, aren’t we?”

  “Cheers to that,” says Alyssia, as we clink glasses for about the ninth time of the day.

  My head’s spinning as we trip towards a large nightclub in Piccadilly Circus. We’ve gotten tired of wine bars and are now fresh from a couple of rounds in some more down-to-earth traditional English pubs. Now we’re all in the mood for a dance, and the fact that it’s Tuesday really isn’t going to stop us if we can help it.

  This is turning into a proper girly night out! I’m almost ashamed I haven’t properly let off steam like this since getting back from training. We’re pushing and shoving and giggling and stumbling down London’s (thankfully wide) sidewalks, and I can’t think of any people I’d rather share this evening with. These are my girls! And it’s so much better with no mentors or wakers or butlers around. We can really be ourselves at last.

  “No boys, okay?” slurs Latifa unexpectedly. “This is our night, and we stick together. Dance or bust. If any boys come along, you have to share them. Deal?”

  We cheer our approval. I certainly don’t feel the need to chase men just at the moment, although we’re getting our fair share of wolf whistles and chat-ups now. Especially the glamorous Latifa, whose mixed blood and exotic look seem to entrance men from every walk of life. But I feel like I’m worth way more than a whistle and a lame line now. Way more.