Her Calling (Emma Book 3)
Page 19
Dear Charles,
That’s good to know. Does he really have some connection with me, as far as you know?
Emma
He replies straight away this time.
Emma,
Gerald lived on the same street as you and your parents for a long time. As the political type – and before he had bigger fish to fry – he was quite active in the local community. He used to see your father at the Homeowner Association meetings. They only spoke a couple of times – he wasn’t anybody well-known at that time – but apparently your father dragged you along to a meeting once, when you were a teenager. That’s when Gerald noticed you.
He’s been taking an interest in you ever since. You were never supposed to be anything but a fantasy for him. But you can imagine how thrilled he was when he discovered you had become an escort. By co-incidence, he and I had become friends in the intervening years, and, well, you know the rest.
I can well imagine that you wouldn’t remember him, if you only saw him once. He’s grown whiskers since that time, I think, and moved all the way across town to a different part of London. As you know.
Let me know if there is anything else. And once again, my most heartfelt apologies for putting you through all of this.
All the best,
Charles
Chapter XX
A few days later, I’m nestled into a first-class seat as the Dunei International Airlines jumbo jet gathers pace and takes to the leaden, tropical skies above the city. My time in the harem is over – for now.
I know I want to be back there. God, it was fucking amazing. Quite apart from the sex, I’ve never read so much or developed my thinking as much as in this month. Not only did I make it through several of Dickens’ finest works, but I also finished listening to Jane Eyre.
The latter in particular really got me thinking. I’ve become fascinated with, and seduced by, the idea of a woman’s true power. Even whilst being on 24/7 call for a prince to take my body and use it in any way he wanted. Even whilst spending a month on standby for him to command me to commit every sexual act imaginable with any of the women there.
To me, there’s no contradiction. I’ve enjoyed the extreme submission – not in the kinky, whips and chains sense, but in the total ownership, full-service sense – and gone willingly and freely into that temporary arrangement. The fact that I’ve been paid an extraordinary sum of money shows that the power really lies with me. If I had to do it for the money, maybe that would be a different story, but I know that if push came to shove, I would have done all of this for free.
I have a treasure trove of erotic, exotic memories from this month. In total, the prince only fucked me five times – each one of them deeply memorable – including my incredible early-hours anal attack. But six days a week, we were never far from a session in the chamber, and every day at the very least, I’d suck the prince’s cock, have him come on my face or body, soap him down or make love with the other girls.
I’ve loved being naked under the tropical sun, swimming in the pool, taking massages to my heart’s content and enjoying long, soapy showers. I’ve treated royalty – and been treated like royalty. I’m fucking proud to have my own tile on that wall. Giving myself to Prince Yousuf like this has completed my transformation and my liberation.
Yeah, maybe I’ve had too much time to think. But if having a clear and resolute mind is the result, then it’s been the best time-out of my life. In many ways, despite all the leisure time and endless sex, it’s been a chaotic whirlwind since things at my day job came to a spectacular end back in the summer. Now I feel like I’ve finally taken stock – and it’s all thanks to my month in a harem.
Firstly, I know I want to go back to the harem if I’m invited. I wouldn’t want to live there all the time, that’s for sure, but I envy the girls who spend a month or two every year there. I hope Yousuf enjoyed me enough to want to count me among their number. He certainly seemed to – I’m told my bedroom visit was not only a rarity but an honour.
Then there’s the strange feeling of total financial liberation. My fee means that I won’t need to work another day in my life, as long as I’m sensible and don’t buy a helicopter every week. Which really isn’t going to happen – buying toys is so not my game.
Displays of wealth are a boys’ thing – at least, that’s what my work has taught me. Ever since I’ve started this job, I’ve found that kind of thing distasteful. I’ve always thought they could do something more positive and fulfilling with their riches. But now that I’ve got so much of that male wealth in my own pocket, I’m the position to redistribute it as I see fit. And now I’m going to put my money where my mouth is.
The idea of somehow sharing the best bits of what I’ve learned and experienced with other women has been taking hold in my mind, especially during those long, lazy afternoons in the dormitory. Instead of watching dumb series with the girls, I’ve been thinking about ways in which I can really make a difference.
I’ve reflected on some of the work charities do, and decided there are plenty (and rightly so) who focus on extreme poverty and helping women who work the streets. And I’ll be donating to them for sure. But the idea that really interests me on a personal level is that of freeing women imprisoned by their own minds. Women trapped in what they’re told is the narrow tunnel of possible options.
What I can’t shake out of my head is the idea that I never knew I could do this. I mean, I was vaguely aware that something like an escorting industry existed, but I suppose that my subconscious found it filthy, disgusting and exploitative. I was all about finding ‘the one’, and prostitution certainly never entered my thoughts. And even if it did, I really never could have believed that men would want to pay for me.
Now that I’ve been proven wrong on so many fronts, and feel so utterly fantastic about life, I’ve developed a gnawing need to make sure women who were in my position know just how many paths there are. That they can break the chains of their upbringing, their families, and the fairy tales little girls get told.
Those fairy tales are full of princes. But speaking from personal experience, princes aren’t exactly like they are in the stories. Princes can be a lot of fun, but it’s not about kissing frogs. We all need to grow out of those children’s books.
I want to share opportunity with as many girls and women as I can – and particularly those who are in the situation I was in: trapped in horrible office jobs. So part one of my strategy will be to provide some kind of outreach to those women. I suppose it would take a liberated company to welcome someone with my message into their meeting room for lunchtime sessions with their employees, but I could certainly offer some kind of private evening sessions.
There’s nothing much to stop me buying or renting a little space somewhere in London – somewhere surrounded by those towering, oppressive office blocks – where I could welcome open-minded women who want more. I’d be like one of those many yoga studios, only with a very different sort of message.
There’s no reason I couldn’t offer yoga, come to think of it. Naked yoga – and not because it’s naughty. So many women need to be helped with their body images. I never had those issues, but not so long ago I was terribly shy about being nude. Stripping off – ever since they first took my clothes at Cranleigh – was a big part of freeing my mind. It’s the first step to accepting yourself.
Even if only for an hour on a Tuesday night, my sessions could really help build women up, see themselves in a better light. And it would open their eyes to the possibilities out there.
I’m excited by the idea of giving talks about my experience on this crazy journey of mine, as well as sharing the valuable lessons I’ve learned. Talks about how I used to be one of them, trapped in the cage of what I thought were my career limits. And it wouldn’t be all about me – I could invite Latifa, my harem-mate Samantha, and any number of successful, sexy, shackle-breaking women to share their stories.
Whatever I might do in my little business,
And while I’m not ruling out running some kind of sex class sessions too – for those who might be interested in a taste of Cranleigh House life – it’s not all about pushing women to become hookers and cut their working hours to two or three a day. I’m dead certain that’s not going to be for everyone. What I want is for them to know what their options are. I just want to get them thinking, and learn to love themselves more. And if they want to be prostitutes, I’ll be happy to help!
The other side of the coin, when it comes to helping women, has nothing to do with their work at all. It’s about empowering their personal lives. It’s about making sure they have an understanding exactly how much power and control they’ve got when it comes to sex and relationships. Which don’t always have to go together.
Again, it would be about knowing the options. You can decide to chase ‘the one’ just because you’ve grown up with that idea. And if that’s really what you want, then that’s okay. But I want women to see that ‘the one’ can just as well lie within. I want them to see that they can enjoy life – and plentiful, hot sex – both with or without a relationship.
You can worry about being called a slut, or you can embrace the fact that you love sex, taking it whenever you want. I want to teach women that the concept of a slut (used as a negative word, at least) is well past its sell-by date. It’s time for women to learn the guilt-free thinking about sex that men are supposed to do so well. There’s nothing wrong with having a fuckbuddy or three. Be open to emotion, and be open to love – if that’s what you want – but learn to stay in control.
Once I’m up and running, I think I might even run a little scholarship of my own for standout women to attend Cranleigh House. Or to take two months on an island to write their novel. Or to do that course they never had time to take. The thought of my project excites me so much!
Of course, I’m not going to retire on Lucy any time soon. Apart from the fact that I absolutely love my work, I definitely owe her at least a couple of years of service, after all she’s done for me. I’ve got more than enough spare time to get my project up and running on the side, or at least start the planning and preparation.
What I might discuss with her, though, is the possibility of a more regular schedule, and perhaps sticking to a few regular clients too. I’ve already got a shortlist of favourites – my God, I can’t imagine life without that hot, creative married couple back in London! I’m rather sure that the more I get to know a small number of clients, the better I’ll be able to make their experience, too. Even in the harem, it took a little while to be able to read Prince Yousuf and his desires. That’s just how it works.
There’s something quite therapeutic thinking about all this whilst I’m high in the skies, sipping on an orange juice as I head for the next chapter of my life in London. First class is almost empty, and I’m feeling wonderfully relaxed as I gaze out of the window at the cotton-wool clouds.
Even thinking about the various people waiting for me back home isn’t causing a ripple of stress. Who knew working in a prince’s harem could give you such a feeling that you’re a master of your own destiny? But that’s exactly what it’s done for me. I’m going to manage those relationships just the way I want to.
It’s a relief, of course, to know that my mystery guy was actually about as unthreatening as I could have hoped. He doesn’t really know me. And he certainly isn’t friendly with my father – never was, really. And even if he wanted to say something, well, I’ve told my parents everything now. Well, the basics at least.
None of that changes the betrayal I still feel from Charles, however. Sure, I can forgive, but I still firmly feel that forgetting isn’t going to happen in the foreseeable future. Because he did the one thing that not even the prince has managed – and that was to thoroughly disempower me.
Yes, he has apologized and wants to make it up to me. And yes, I’m tempted to have sex with him again. I want to experience Charles the dominant, that’s for sure. He made me wet, and would do so again – there’s no denying that. But he’s shattered the trust I would want for a relationship, and though the new Emma could theoretically offer him a no-strings, sex-only arrangement that he could take or leave, it seems like dangerous ground for me.
New Emma knows she has an ocean of choice out there. She’s also aware of her own power – which includes the capacity to end up hurting Charles more than he hurt me. A casual sex deal won’t work for everyone, and I think Charles is one such case. I’m going to be civil to him, but tell him it’s best we don’t talk any more.
I’ve thought about talking to him on a business level, though, because he’s the kind of guy who could help me establish my project. But do I really need him? That’s probably old Emma talking. I don’t need some rich, powerful businessman to validate my project with his approval. I can afford to make mistakes, and it is a non-profit after all. And besides, when it comes to a few of the practicalities, people like Martin and Lucy have plenty of good knowledge to share.
And Jack? Casual sex is tempting. It’s felt so, so good to be with a down-to-earth guy I connect with sexually. Even when we were together, we never, ever had a bad moment in the bedroom. And though trying a relationship with a regular guy is a little tempting too, I know that our break-up was due to a few personality clashes that I don’t think have ultimately gone anywhere. Besides, I know that he wouldn’t be happy with a girlfriend who does the work I do. A fuckbuddy, on the other hand…
And Sarah? I know she’s going to be waiting for me at Heathrow, probably with a nice bunch of flowers. Suddenly, I can’t wait to be home.
Epilogue
Tonight has been my biggest audience yet! I step off the stage once, but the ovation is such that I have to go out and give them another bow. The applause simply won’t stop. And this is happening more and more often.
I still don’t think I’ve truly gotten used to the fact that I’m standing up in front of hundreds, sometimes thousands, of people, and openly speaking about my journey from frustrated office worker to top-end escort five summers ago.
This was the last shackle I had to break. Speaking out with pride. Not with too much graphic detail, but enough for women everywhere to understand how I’ve got to where I am, and why I’m happy to be here. Even if I’m talking in my home city, and those women might be my family, friends or former colleagues.
I thought long and hard about accepting my first invitation to become a speaker on this huge international talk channel, with all the live streams and YouTube immortality that it entailed. I was nervous as all hell that first night, and probably didn’t speak that well, but once that was out of the way, it’s been easier and easier. Kind of like being a hooker, really.
My little outreach project in London took off like wildfire – it’s a big outreach project now! We’ve now got branches in fourteen cities around the United Kingdom and the world. Women clearly needed a lot more inspiring than I thought! Talks like tonight are just something I do on the side, but they’ve taken me everywhere from Los Angeles to Milan. I’ve even spoken in New Zealand, of all places!
Lucy gives me her usual big hug as I step behind the curtain once more, into the sanctity of the backstage area. We’ve become the most natural of business partners. After a few months, when my small-group evening sessions in the city really started to take off, I had to tell her I’d be quitting. Financially independent like me, it turned out she was looking for a new challenge too. And here we are!
This is a homecoming of sorts. With all the travel, I haven’t spoken in London for several months. It’ll be nice to sleep in my familiar apartment (which I’ve now bought outright) tonight, but tomorrow, we’ll be in Paris for another talk. Then to Edinburgh for the opening of our branch there, as well as some interviews with a few people who want to work with us. Everyone, at every one of our branches, is a volunteer. We’ve both been firm about this: neither of us wants to lose sight of the fact that this is all about giving back.
And where’s the money coming from? Well, I did get invited back to the harem. Yes, I’m one of those lucky girls that spends a month there every year! It more than takes care of the bills, and has allowed me to fulfil all my outreach ambitions – as well as pay for the odd girl to attend Cranleigh House.
As for actual escorting, I’ve all but quit, apart from that one big month a year. The only exception is with my special married couple, who manage to come up with something kinkier and raunchier every time.
I simply couldn’t bring myself to stop my appointments with those two. I know Jenna and David very well now, and we even have ‘vanilla’ meals together – most of which are spent talking about what fantasies we’re going to play out the next time I’m with them.
I’ve even accompanied them to a sex party or two – but I’ll keep those adventures to myself.
As for my day-to-day sex life, I just have a lot of fuckbuddies. Jack’s one of them, though I’m simply not around as much as he’d like. None of which rules out one-off encounters. I’ve now grown brave enough to ask men for sex, outright. Women, too. And when I tell my audiences that, it’s one of the lines that always gets the biggest response.
Do I want to settle down with one person? Sexually, right now, the answer to that is no. I believe I’ve slept with a couple of hundred men and women since I first set foot in Cranleigh House, and the variety is just too exciting. Maybe that will change one day, but not any time soon.
But do I want someone to come home to? To share every hope and dream with? To join me when I play with other people? I think I do. Who wouldn’t? I struggle with the idea of sexual monogamy right now, but I don’t have an issue with emotional monogamy.
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