Her Calling (Emma Book 3)

by James Grey

  He whips a condom out of his pocket, drops his jeans and prepares himself. I gently cup his balls as he does so, and it feels so good. They’re tight and ready to rock. I need this so badly. I just want to do this, and not get paid for it, and not think beyond the moment. Lucy was right as usual. This had to happen.

  Jack can’t get into me without raising me further – he’s just that little bit too tall. But it’s no problem at all. He just spins me around and throws me against the wall tiles. I wrap my ankles around his pumping hips as he crashes into me beneath the skirt, which is soon riding up around my own hips.

  I have to suck in a lungful of air as he enters me. It’s such a sweet, familiar pleasure. I swear I’d recognise the way his cock feels, even if I couldn’t see his face. And I really let myself go.

  I don’t think I’ve made noise like this since the time Rupert finally let me out of my sexually frustrated misery at Cranleigh House. I don’t think anyone will here our animal cries above the music, but even if they do, I don’t much care. It’s just too good right now.

  He pulls my ass cheeks wide open with his hands as he pounds me from below, making me feel beautifully open and exposed. I smile to myself as I feel a glorious drop of wetness, somehow having sidestepped the ramrod at my entrance, dribble down my leg.

  I come before he does. And then I orgasm for a second time just after I feel his tightening and his release. It’s that hot.

  We don’t move for a long time. That was both intense and outrageous. Both of us are boiling, heaving. Eventually he lowers me to my shaky feet. He bends his knees and pulls himself out – but thankfully not too fast.

  I love that I can look him in the eye. This isn’t quite like a client or a random guy you pick up. I know him so well. I only hope he knows this isn’t us getting back together, or anything like that. We had good reasons for splitting, and anyway, I’m drifting further away from a needy relationship-chaser by the day.

  “I never did that before…” I say dreamily as I try to regain my balance. “I mean, in a toilet.”

  “Well, I never did it with an ex before,” he grins. “I think I’d recommend it now!”

  I cough, think for a moment, and then speak up. “Well, I wouldn’t say no to another round some time.”

  “I’d be up for that,” he replies, quick-fire. Unsurprisingly. He is a simple, straightforward, normal guy after all.

  “But it can only ever be sex, you know that?”

  Did I just say that?

  “You’ve changed, Emma Carling! Only sex? That doesn’t sound like the girl I knew. You always wanted all the bells and whistles. We could have done ‘just sex’ from day one, you know!”

  I shrug. I’ve got nothing for him. Did I really want all the bells and whistles, or did I just think that’s what I should want? Little girls get brought up with certain ideas, and I was no exception.

  “Anyway, so, you’ve got something to tell me, haven’t you?”

  I sigh. So he didn’t forget. And I did promise. Though some of my impishness has seeped away now that I’ve been seen to, with such delightful roughness, in a nightclub toilet.

  “Okay…but you can’t tell anybody, right? Nobody!”

  He puts his hand on his heart. And I do trust him.

  “Fine,” I say, steadying myself for the big moment. Apart from Martin, not a single person from outside my new world knows my big secret. “So, er, what I do is, well…this.”

  My eyes dart from side to side as I hope he makes the connection. I’m not sure it’s happening.

  “This? Not sure I get you.”

  I steel myself and look him in the eye. “What we just did. It’s my job now.”

  “As in…sex? Come on, I’m not that daft!”

  His eyes are wide open, searching mine for a hint of a joke.

  I nod seriously. “Yeah, I know you’re not. It’s true. This is what I do. Not in club toilets though. Think five-star hotels. Apartments in Notting Hill. That kind of thing.”

  I’m just babbling on now, maybe because I’m afraid of seeing him actually react.

  But there’s not much reaction yet. Jack’s completely speechless. He’s blubbing at me like a goldfish. I really do feel like he still thinks I’m kidding. And when I think of the Emma he last knew well, I can’t blame him for thinking that.

  “No way…” he whispers, taking hold of my elbow. “I’m trying to imagine you – ”

  “Rather don’t,” I say firmly. “I’ve changed a few things, and learned a lot about myself since leaving my job. But I don’t want to talk more about it now, alright? I haven’t told anyone till now. I just don’t know if I like the idea of them knowing, you know?”

  He looks at me, as if he’s finally made up his mind that I’m serious about what I’m telling him. He stands up tall and runs his fingers through his hair as he fishes around for more words.

  “You’re really not shitting me?”

  I rest my hands gently on his hips and look up at him, earnest as can be. And then I nod my head.

  “But…how? Where? Why?”

  “Hey, like I said, I don’t want to go into it! But okay, I’ll give you the short version. I walked out of my last job and ended up at a special school for…escorts.”

  His eyes widen even more.

  “They have those?”

  “Mm-hmm,” I nod once more. “Well, not many. But anyway, one thing led to another and…I’m working. I have an agent and everything!”

  I laugh as I think of how me having an agent must sound to him. Maybe it’s not so hard talking about this.

  “But you’re…! Well, I just can’t imagine…you know…well, put it this way…you’ve changed!”

  He’s trying not to cause offence by saying how cautious I used to be. How much convincing I used to take to try something even a little adventurous.

  “It’s okay to say it, Jack. I…well, the school taught me a lot. I’m happier with the idea of enjoying myself now. And whatever I do, I’m never working behind a desk again.”

  “No, well, why would you?” he says, still looking half-incredulous. “I’d take that job in an instant if I could.”

  “Well, I’d recommend you for sure!” I titter.

  He looks right at me, shaking his head. I think he does actually believe me now, but he’s still just trying to let it all sink in. Trying to connect the idea of Emma Carling and the idea of a prostitute in his head.

  “You’re safe, right?” he asks. “I mean, not standing on street corners or anything?”

  “None of that, Jack. This is pre-booked stuff. Very wealthy guys. All very professional and safe.”

  “Jesus. I can’t get my head around it!”

  “It might take some time, to be honest – it did for me! So let’s get out of here, maybe?”

  He’s still rooted to the spot with shock. So I pull the condom off his slackening dick and chuck it into the toilet, then reach down and help him pull up his jeans. Wordlessly, I begin to pull my clothes back into place. There’s a wicked smile on my face. I feel so much lighter for having told someone I know well about what I do.

  “Hey,” says Jack as he zips himself back up. “I don’t know about embarrassing, Emma. I’m proud of you, really. Of course I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to.”

  “Yeah, let’s keep it to ourselves for now. And keep in touch?”

  “You bet I will!”

  Judging by the look on his face, he’s not going to be put off by the fact that I sell myself to a variety of rich men for a living. That’s nice to know.

  We exchange numbers before finally straightening ourselves out and leaving the stall, eyed suspiciously by a blonde who pauses from re-applying her lipstick at the mirror, and head out to the dancefloor once more.

  And then I dance the night away with the girls, feeling pretty good about life once again. Jack rejoins the mates he came with, and though we don’t talk again for the rest of the evening, we trade smiles every time I catch his eye

.

  I’m proud of what I do. And I remind myself that I shouldn’t let what anybody thinks – or does – get in the way of that.

  Chapter VI

  Everything’s starting to feel right again. I’ve tested myself in the most enjoyable way possible, and it looks like maybe everyone else was right. My little issue was only a once-off, after all. Moreover, Christmas is out of the way. And then there’s the good news that Sarah looks set to move out of apps and into Lucy’s fold!

  I’m also pretty excited to be in touch with Jack again, because he hasn’t stopped being cute at all. I still don’t think a relationship between us would work, but what has changed is that I don’t find the idea of something casual distasteful any more. I feel like we ran into each other for a reason.

  He’s already said he’d be up for it, and I think it could be an arrangement worth exploring. I really enjoyed the feeling of being with a regular, normal guy once again; someone I can relate to. Thinking about it, this is probably exactly the kind of guy I should explore if I ever want to seriously date someone. Not him exactly, but a man who isn’t from the silly world of champagne and caviar. Maybe that’s the way to separate business and pleasure.

  I love that I can talk it all through with Sarah, without any kind of jealousy creeping in. I’m definitely reluctant to call her my girlfriend, and she’s never used the term on me either. I like the drama-school approach to the whole thing, which basically says we’re sleeping together, living together and enjoying it, and getting on brilliantly, but there’s no need to put a label on it.

  Whether it can last, though, is another question. Living together certainly adds an intensity that I guess I wouldn’t have with a fuckbuddy. And part of me wonders if Sarah’s patchy mix of enthusiasm and down times will wear me down in the end. For now, though, I’m happy enough with the whole thing.

  Clearly I’m more attracted to women than I ever thought I could be, but as far as a relationship is concerned, I’m a long way from convinced. This might go down as a lesbian phase. Anyway, I’m not sure I need a relationship of any sort. Life’s too much free and enjoyable at the moment.

  Sooner or later I fear we’ll get to a decisive moment. But no hurry – things are just great the way they are at the moment. Especially as she’s no longer going to have to work out of my spare room – or even that other apartment! Her career prospects are looking decidedly rosy. Because sure enough, Sarah was an absolute hit at the gang-bang.

  I don’t think I’ll ever forget the way her face looked when she came in the front door that night. It wasn’t particularly late, actually, as her session had run from nine to eleven. But she was glowing like crazy and grinning from ear to ear. She might have hobbled across the room to greet me, no doubt hurting from two hours of intense, repeated vaginal invasions, but she seemed to be taking it as a good kind of pain. Just the right way to take it!

  I’d been worried, for sure. I’d tried to read while she was out, but couldn’t focus at all. Maybe a tiny part of me was envious of the incredible time she was surely having, particularly given the reason I’d had to pull out. But, mostly, I was just concerned that she did well. There was no reason to doubt my friend, but Lucy had been so unconvinced about Sarah that I couldn’t help but wonder if she was onto something.

  Then there was the fact that, as is apparently Lucy’s policy with that kind of assignment, our kindly keeper would be there, watching. It’s pretty uncomfortable having any kind of boss eyeing your performance. I remember that very well from my last flirtation with the regular working world.

  I had nothing to worry about, of course. Sarah couldn’t wait to tell me how hot it was. How she’d been relentlessly used by upwards of twenty guys, some of them two or three times. How she loved the way a line formed for her as she lay there naked on the table, and how the feel of a new cock sliding in between her wide-spread legs never lost its thrill. How her line was often longer than Laura’s and Tammy’s, and how passionately the three of them had kissed each other while they were being fucked side-by-side. How long the round of applause for the trio of them went on after the clock struck eleven.

  Her stories made me so horny that I wanted to jump on her that night, but I thought even Sarah might need a little break after two hours of non-stop penetration. I could only imagine how sore it must have been by the end. And I don’t want to have to imagine for much longer – it better be my turn soon!

  “God, Emma, imagine if we could do one of those together!” she said, reading my mind as she continued to sail on cloud nine. I smiled, nodding gleefully. After all, I’d already had a glowing text from Lucy when Sarah was on her way home from the gang-bang party. Words to the effect that Lucy may have been wrong about Sarah, and that Sarah would be getting a call very soon after we all paused for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Even Lucy stopped working for those, apparently.

  As for the festive stuff, I got the big day out of the way as quickly as possible. I’m not a big fan of the overindulgence and forced jollity of the Christmas. Thank goodness we were over at one of my noisy aunts this year, which meant I didn’t have to have a one-on-one conversation with my mother just yet. With Mum no doubt still a little thrown by what I’d said about massage, she seemed as keen as I was to steer clear of the topic of me. And it wasn’t all that difficult to get my garrulous aunts to go off on tangents when the subject did threaten to arrive.

  The thing with telling my parents properly has to resolve itself soon, though. And Lucy, it turns out, has the answer. She invites both Sarah and I out for lunch on Boxing Day. Sarah had a couple of appointments lined up through the app, but I told her to cancel them. This meal, with one of London’s top agents, was her chance to cement things after making a great impression at the gang-bang.

  It turns into one of those feel-good meals, where everyone seems to be in a happy place and the afternoon lingers on just because it’s so good. After enjoying some light and spicy Asian stir-fry, we enjoy coffee and dessert in a converted industrial building that now houses some terrific fusion restaurants, watching the world go by through large windows sunk into the brick walls.

  It doesn’t take long for the story of my escapade with Jack to emerge. Thankfully Sarah is happy to tell most of it for me. Lucy is delighted, of course. “See, what happened last time was nothing to worry about! How about we get you working on Friday again?”

  “I could even start tomorrow or Wednesday,” I say, keen to get back in to the swing of things.

  “That’s even better,” she grins. “Let me see what I can do. Your waiting list is bulging, so I’d imagine we’ll have no trouble finding you something. As for you, Sarah, let’s not beat about the bush. I’d like to have you on board, if you’re willing?”

  Not surprisingly, Sarah’s face lights up as she nods her willing in no uncertain terms.

  “How about I get you set up with a photo shoot and a makeover this week, so we can get you out there by the weekend? I’ve had more than a few enquiries for you after Sunday’s virtuoso.”

  I break into an enormous smile. “Told you,” I say to Lucy, perhaps a little cheekily. She blushes ever so slightly – not something I’ve ever seen before – and throws up her hands in defeat.

  “Maybe you’ve got a sixth sense for this business Miss Carling. Maybe you’ll be helping me out one day!”

  I quite like that thought, somehow. At the rate I’ve been earning, it might not be all that long before I’ve got no real need to work. I might be able to put something back into the world. Maybe set up my own Cranleigh House, or, indeed, work with Lucy in running a ring of happy, healthy, well-paid escorts.

  I slip into a daydream about recruiting some of my friends from my old job, and it makes me tingle with delight. Not just because the idea of women being owned and used, while utterly empowered at the same time, is such a turn-on, but because I’d really love my old boss (still a witch most of the time, from what I hear) to learn that I’ve spirited half her team away to become prostitutes.

  I don’t suppose Spurring could complain if that were to happen, though, given his part-time lecturing habit. It’s the first time I’ve thought about my old CEO for several days. The fact that it was Charles, and not him, behind my torture, makes me not particularly worried about him any longer. Even though I know he did recognise me that day at Cranleigh.

  Thinking of Charles makes my blood boil, but only fleetingly. It makes me realise, too, that I’ve been pretty good about keeping him out of my mind. What happened in that club toilet last week, plus the good news for Sarah, has clearly done my frame of mind a world of good.

  “Hey wake up, sister!” Sarah says, dashing my little reverie with a snap of her finger. “Honestly, I never know when you’re just going to leave the room like that!”

  “Sorry, sorry, I’m back! Just thinking good thoughts, I promise. Hey, how about a toast to Sarah?”

  We clink glasses. It’s one of those rare and special moments when everyone present has good news to celebrate. Although not for the first time, I sense a shred of melancholy from Lucy. Does she have a boyfriend, I wonder? Her work seems to be her life, and she’s never mentioned a significant other. On the odd occasion when it’s not entirely about work, like now, I feel a tiny waft of sadness from her. But maybe it’s just her no-nonsense style.

  Then I tell Lucy and Sarah that I blurted out something of the work I’m doing to Jack, fuelled as I was by lust and a little too much vodka. But I also admit, my own face going red this time, that it hadn’t been so scary after all.

  “He seemed rather impressed, actually,” I say tentatively.

  “Why wouldn’t he be?” says Lucy, giving me a genuinely puzzled look. “People aren’t going to judge you as much as you think they are, Emma – we’re well into the twenty-first century now you know! And if anyone does look down their nose at you, I can almost guarantee you it’ll be a bitchy girl that’s jealous of every little thing about your job.

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