Her Calling (Emma Book 3)

by James Grey

  And somehow, without any particular effort from me, I’m smiling inside. That can only be a good thing – I’m certainly not going to go looking for things to worry about. But I will have a good chinwag with Martin, and try to figure out what happens next.

  Mussels in white wine sauce – a firm favourite of mine – are on the menu today, in a cosy little place with only five tables. God knows how they stay in business. But anyway, we have a great lunch. There’s absolutely no comparison to the hurried sandwiches and sorry pre-packed salads I’d become used to in the world of office work. Not for the first time, I think how much I’d love to help other women break free from the madness and pointlessness of it all.

  But chatting with Martin brings my thoughts back to the matter at hand. I tell him everything Charles told me, and watch him listening carefully. Martin is absolutely the best kindly ear I know, so I’m glad it was him who set me along this path in life. Otherwise, right now, I’d be twitchily trying to find a way to tell him a whole lot of awkward background.

  “Well, it certainly sounds plausible enough,” Martin says after I finish telling him all there is to tell. “Did he seem sincere?”

  I nod, my mouth full of a sauce-soaked slice of baguette.

  “He did,” I say, swallowing the fresh, fishy bread. “Have you ever known him to lie?”

  “Not in my experience,” he says immediately. “And from what I’m hearing, he didn’t lie in this whole scenario either. He just didn’t mention certain things.”

  “Yeah. You can say that again.”

  “So…what now?” he asks, taking a sip of chilled white, before putting it down and fixing me with one of those enquiring looks of his. “Is he forgiven?”

  I suck air in through my teeth and shrug my shoulders.

  “Uh, I haven’t thought that far. I guess I can’t rule it out, but it was still a real abuse of trust.”

  “True,” says Martin. “But that fact that he wasn’t living a lie the whole time is a little bit of mitigation in my book. Effectively it was just one mistake on one night, wasn’t it?”

  “I guess,” I grimace, looking out of the window as I raise another forkful of yellow mussel flesh to my mouth. “A big mistake. But we all make those. I mean, I kind of lost it at school once, too. Maybe it was a bit like that, what he did.”

  And then of course I have to explain to Martin, in not-so-graphic detail, how I went a bit mental on Petra and Rupert back at Cranleigh House.

  “So it happens to the best of us!” he kids.

  “Ah, I suppose. But it’s not easy to look that person in the face again. I wouldn’t really expect Rupert or Petra to trust me either, to be honest.”

  A bitter thought about Petra flashes across my mind. How can someone as emotionless as her get wet, and someone as sexed-up as me stay dry? I sigh. That particular issue is one I’m most certainly not going to raise with Martin over lunch. What’s important, I hope, is that if I’m less hung up about Charles, the problem will go away.

  “I can certainly see that,” replies Martin thoughtfully. “Not easy at all! If you were going to give him another chance, you’d have to have an open discussion about what style of relationship it was to be, wouldn’t you? I mean, given that things are out in the open, you know? I was always a bit surprised at the way you talked about things, and how he clearly wasn’t exercising any real dominance over you.”

  “Sure,” I say, wondering if it would just be easier to keep on ignoring Charles – and all the difficult decisions that would arise if I choose not to.

  He looks around, then lowers his voice so the two women at the next table won’t hear what he says next. “But you enjoyed it that night, didn’t you?”

  I turn bright red. “Er, I…well, yes. I suppose.”

  “Well then,” he says, putting his right hand on my left, “that means it could get even more exciting for the two of you, no?”

  “Okay, let’s not talk about the two of us,” I retort, still feeling a little ill at the thought of doing anything – kinky or otherwise – with Charles. “It still makes me feel a little sick.”

  “Oh, you’ll need time,” Martin says quickly. “But I’m just saying – you might not want to completely rule it out.”

  “Yeah,” I murmur, zoning out of the whole tricky business. I think my brain’s had enough Charles talk for the time being. If the guy wants to chase me, then let him. I’m in no rush to declare him fully forgiven just yet. We’ll see what happens.

  The main thing is for me to be relaxed about anything to do with Charles. Che sera sera enough to be able to get on that plane to Dunei and perform. Speaking of which, it’s a great excuse to change the subject.

  “So anyway, do you have time for dessert?” I tease. “Then I can tell you about a very interesting job offer that’s on the table…”

  Chapter XI

  After a remarkable raspberry panna cotta followed by a walk that taught me a lot I didn’t know about my own city, I’m feeling pretty satisfied on the whole. Both Martin and Alyssia are unequivocal that I should go to Dunei. And that’s one decision I’m not feeling confused about. I definitely want to go and be in that harem!

  There’s just that one little lubrication issue standing in the way. It’s almost eight by the time I get home, but I’m determined to come up with a plan without delay. I sit down on my sofa and give Lucy a ring.

  “Sorry to bother you so late,” I apologize after she picks up.

  “Don’t be silly, Emma! You know our business only really gets going at night!”

  True, I think to myself. But she’s often texted me as early as six in the morning, too. I wonder if the woman ever actually sleeps. I’m starting to suspect that she doesn’t have much of a life outside of her work, and prefers to bury herself in her business instead.

  “Er, right, yes! I guess I’ve forgotten what it’s like to work evenings lately,” I chuckle.

  “So dramatic, young lady – it’s hardly been an eternity! You’ll be out again soon, too. Now then, what news do you have for me?”

  “Well, getting out again…that’s kind of what I wanted to talk about.”

  “You’re not going to go and retire on me now are you? Damn, I knew I paid you too much!”

  Retire? I never really thought of it, but I suppose it must happen quite often. I think of Miss Littlefair, our specialist blow job teacher at Cranleigh House, who quit the game soon after she made her fortune.

  “Oh, not any time soon, don’t worry! No, the thing is, I spoke with Charles earlier today.”

  “I see,” she says, turning serious. “I’m all ears, Emma. Tell me.”

  I recount the whole conversation in the coffee shop this morning. She doesn’t say a word as I tell the story.

  “Hmm, interesting,” she says. “Maybe I should have given him more of a chance to explain himself. But still, what he did is totally unacceptable, even if it was only the one night. Swapping roles with another client without my knowledge is a grade A offence. And it means that his famous friend is in big trouble with me too now. Anyway, never mind about that – it’s my problem to deal with.”

  Now that I’ve absorbed everything Charles told me this morning, I’m a little more curious about who his friend – and the original booker of appointments at that house – might have been. Could it be that Spurring had a role to play after all? Surely not. The guy’s only really a celebrity within the firm he leads. Or so I’d assume.

  “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me who that famous friend is, are you?” I enquire sweetly.

  There’s a silence. I can hear Lucy weighing it up.

  “Sorry Emma, I just can’t do it. It’s totally against my commitments to that person. He may have broken my trust, but two wrongs don’t make a right.”

  “I’d never tell anyone!” I plead.

  “I know you wouldn’t, of course! But that still wouldn’t make me right to do it. But given that he has betrayed you as well as me, I’ll take your feelin
gs on wanting to know into account. I’ll think about it, that’s all I can say. Anyway, Charles might spill the beans if you asked him – he’s probably desperate to get back in your good books. Now, let’s get back to the matter at hand! How do you feel?”

  I return to my original thread happily enough. I’m really keen to get a plan in place and a plane ticket to Dunei in my hand.

  “Well, I do think I feel better,” I explain. “I feel less betrayed than I thought I was before, if that makes sense. And it was probably a good thing to see him again. Becoming real again means he haunts me a bit less, you know?”

  “Are you going to see him again?”

  “Not sure,” I admit. “I guess we might keep in touch. I’m not ready to go back to anything like before. Not now, anyway. But I think I’d like to try and work again.”

  “And I’d like you to as well, Emma. I’ve had another enquiry from Prince Yousuf. His people keep on pestering me for you! Sometimes he’s in an ‘any of your girls will do, Lucy’ phase, but right now he’s only got eyes for your good self. So, let’s find a way to make it happen!”

  “Right,” I pick up. “So how about you fill up my week? I’ll do every night, but Friday I’ll…um…do my own little test. Friday evening’s the one where I always seem to have a problem.”

  I’m thinking I should see Jack again on Friday. No strings, no money and no pressure. Hopefully that’ll equal no dryness.

  “Right,” she says, a little uncertain. “So you want to find your own gentleman on Friday and see what happens?”

  “Something like that,” I tell her. “Better than testing things out on a paying client, I think.”

  “I suppose that makes sense,” says Lucy. “Alright then! I like this plan. So, I’ve got a few assignments for this week that I could put your name next to. Got your diary?”

  I laugh. My diary’s in my head, pretty much. I’ve been waiting for that to bite me, but it hasn’t yet. Lucy’s too good with the reminders.

  “Yep, shoot!”

  “Right, so, tomorrow there’s that couple you enjoyed so much. They’re after you in the evening. Ready for a chain around your neck again?”

  She asks it a little cautiously, but there’s no need. Those two have been among my hottest clients so far. The wife can tie me up any time she wants. No baggage there.

  “Oh yes I am! What else is happening?”

  “Ah, well, I could put you down for something late morning tomorrow as well, which would be a long way ahead of the evening appointment. Do you fancy lap-dancing?”

  “I don’t see why not,” I reply. “I mean, maybe not on a stage, but I think I could take care of a guy one-on-one.”

  “Good, because there’s a certain Church of England priest with a birthday tomorrow. Some of his colleagues want to get him a surprise treat when he’s working in the vestry…”

  “What, a priest? Seriously?”

  “Of course, Emma! Are you surprised? Don’t you know everyone’s at it by now?”

  Maybe I should, but I’m incredulous anyway.

  “And…he wants sex?”

  “Full sex will be paid for, but don’t force it on him unless he asks. Keep it to a naked lap-dance if there’s no further – ”

  “Um, I’m not sure about that one, to be honest.”

  It’s the first time I’ve ever said no to a Lucy job. Or anything, actually, since I got on that train to Cranleigh House.

  I’m not a religious girl, but I’ve got an ingrained respect for the church. My mother used to take me to services quite regularly. Those aunts of mine still attend. And while I might be pretty agnostic myself, I don’t think I’m very comfortable with playing my part in two-facedness on quite that level.

  “Absolutely fine,” says Lucy breezily. “And respect for saying so. He’s not married, of course, but he’s supposed to behave nonetheless. I can completely see where you’re coming from.”

  “Thanks, Lucy. By the way, I assume Yousuf isn’t married either?”

  She chortles. “I’ve told you I don’t take married clients, Emma! Yousuf is technically supposed to be a good boy too, by the morality of his country, but the princes there have had harems for centuries and everybody knows it. There’s nothing furtive going on.”

  “Well, that’s good to hear. Any other options for tomorrow daytime?”

  Clearly I’m desperate to get back to work!

  “Ah yes, I’ve got a fairly straightforward hotel job, if you’d like. At Heathrow Airport, actually. There’s a Russian guy with a four-hour layover and he wants to pass the time in the best possible way. He spends a lot of time in London, though, so it probably wouldn’t be your last time with him. Crazy tips, too – often double the fee. He’s some kind of gas magnate.”

  “I can do that!”

  “To Wednesday, then, and I have a gentleman who wants to watch you masturbate. Easy enough – you haven’t done one of those yet, have you?”

  “No, come to think of it,” I muse. “But as you say, easy enough!”

  “Exactly. He also wants to watch you take a shower. He’s paying for sex, too, but often he doesn’t get that far, if you know what I mean.”

  “Well, either way, I’ll make sure he has a good time! And is there anything else for Wednesday?”

  “Let’s see,” says Lucy, evidently looking down the screen of the laptop she takes absolutely everywhere with her. “Oh, yes, after that tame start to the day, how about taking two guys in evening? I mean, at the same time.”

  “Double? Yep, I can do that,” I answer coolly.

  My job is fucking amazing!

  “Good girl, you’re a champion! You’ll be a little sore after that, so how about I schedule you in for massage Thursday afternoon? By which I mean, Tracy massages you while another girl – might be Sarah, actually – looks after the client as he watches you get a happy ending. Sounds good?”

  “Yep, love working with Tracy!”

  “She’s gorgeous, isn’t she? And she’s going to massage every inch of you, back and front, of course. Right, who else needs servicing…ah yes! I think I’d like to send you along to teach one of our CEOs a lesson. He takes a girl in his office every Thursday evening and likes his dominatrix to be a surprise. I’ll have a few props sent to you for that one. Have you used a strap-on before?”

  I’m startled.

  “What, on a guy?!”

  “That’s the direction this client likes things to go in, usually. But if you’ve used one with a girl then you’ll be okay. Have you done that? Anally, I mean.”

  I admit to her that I have done that. More than once. It always seems to happen when Sarah, Alyssia and I end up sleeping together.

  “Love that you’re so versatile, Emma, seriously! There aren’t many girls I could put down for such a spread of jobs, in all honesty. Now, Friday morning, let’s have you see the doctor for your check-up, and then I’ll let you have the day to yourself as you request. Does that sound good?”

  “Absolutely!”

  “You’re full up for the week, then, Emma. I’ll confirm all the details with you in writing. There are some intense assignments, but I think you’re going to enjoy yourself!”

  “That sounds like a varied week!” I declare. “Then if I take Friday evening off and keep the weekend open just in case, I think we’ve got a plan.”

  “I think we most definitely do. Let me know how everything goes. And good luck on Friday night – it’s the most important of them all!”

  I thank her, put down the phone and sit back on my sofa with a whopping smile. Do I have the best job in the world, or what?

  *

  The week is every bit as good as it sounded over the phone. I don’t hear from Charles, and I don’t feel I need to. I’m too busy enjoying a blur of hot sex. And, most importantly, I’m horny and wet throughout every appointment. When I’m not fucking a business leader up the ass – which, to my surprise, gave me a shuddering orgasm – or taking two cocks à la Robert and George, I st
ill have enough energy to play with Sarah.

  Speaking of whom, I don’t think I have many hotter memories than watching her furiously working a tall Scandinavian’s impressive cock with her hand whilst I lay on massage table, covered in oil and legs spread wide, the stunning Tracy working her way up my inner thighs towards my pussy. Our wild, lustful eyes met just as I watched him spurt a fountain of cum all over her hand. She later told me that the shudder I saw from her at that moment was for real.

  It’s like one highlight after another. And that couple...they’ve had their playroom completed. I’m the first to join them in it, they told me. And I spent a wonderful hour on the St Andrew’s Cross, his wife giving me nothing but intermittent, increasingly hard slaps on my breasts.

  She turned my pain-seeking tits pink with her palm while her husband watched on, then clamped up my nipples and inserted wide-open pincers into my pussy. Then she left them there, spreading my walls, while the two of them had sex in a chair right in front of me. It was almost too much to bear as she sat on his lap, making her pleasure deliberately obvious as she kept her eyes on me throughout her ride.

  My vagina was gaping in more than one sense by the time her fingers and his cock finally went inside me together.

  Christ almighty, what a night that was. I can’t wait to play with those two again.

  But now it’s Friday night, and I’m going back in time. Back to the simpler days of boys in house shares. And I want it this way. For all the thrills of lavish wealth and extreme experiences, I think maybe personal sex needs a different feel from work sex. Either way, it’s the best chance I’ve got of steadying the Friday-night ship.

  Not that I’m using Jack, as such. I mean, I’m using him as my guinea-pig, but only because I’m seriously horny for him too. And he was more than happy to agree to a play date, after all.

  Still can’t quite believe you’re suggesting this, but I can’t wait! Few beers with the lads in Clapham – meet us there and then we’ll go back to the house? Xx

  I’m on board with his plan, and duly turn up at a pub just a couple of blocks from Clapham Junction Station. The crowd’s almost spilling onto the street. It’s nice to speak with a few of his housemates again after all this time. He hadn’t been living with them long when we split up, so I never got to know them all that well before.