Going Up and Going Down
Read Going Up and Going Down Online
Authors: Eva Bielby
GOING UP AND GOING DOWN
Eva Bielby
Text © Eva Bielby 2014
All Rights Reserved
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
To
my wonderful husband, Graham, my son, Stuart and his wife, Kate, my daughter,
Danielle, and her fiancé, Jonny, for their love and support in the last few months.
I
would also like to take this opportunity to thank my fabulous hawk-eyed
proof-readers, Alec James Hawkes and Georgina Ramsey,
my
other special friends, J.A. Melville, Martin Skate, Glenda Horsfall, June
Starrs and many other indie author friends, too numerous to list, who have also
supported me, offered advice and kept me motivated. A tremendous big ‘Thank
You’ to each and every one of you.
DISCLAIMER
The
characters and events in this book are totally fictitious. Any similarity to
real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the
author. Just in case any of you were wondering, I would like to point out that
I have never been a call girl and Helen’s clients in this book are not real
people!
CONTENTS
FOREWORD
A New Client
So there I was,
sitting in a top notch
executive hotel
room in Paris
with a guy I had only just met – my
seventh client since starting out. Seventh client! I had hoped I would have
started to get accustomed to the idea of having sex with total strangers after
six clients, but I still couldn’t shake off the apprehension. My stomach had been
churning as I’d walked into the room, and I hoped the beads of perspiration on
my forehead had gone unnoticed.
Two days
before, when he had first called me, he had explained that Simon, my first
client, had handed him my mobile number during a meeting they’d both attended
some weeks ago. After introducing himself as David, he’d offered to pay for my
return air fare from London Heathrow. I accepted the offer and agreed to the
flight times he’d suggested. When I had collected my tickets at the airport I had
been amazed to see the words ‘business class’ printed on my ticket. He was
financially
secure,
obviously. I had prayed the husky warmth of his voice matched up to the
image I had conjured up in my mind. When I’m being paid for sexual services it
certainly helps the mood to find the client…at least a little attractive,
particularly as my business arrangements were also a means of trying to fulfil
my own sexual needs. Having been badly hurt twice in my past, I was adamant
that my new career would totally eliminate the need to have boyfriends and
emotional involvements in the future. I didn’t need the hurt that always seemed
to go hand in hand with love.
When he’d met
me in the hotel lobby I wasn’t disappointed. He wore an expensive suit and
beautiful white shirt, his tie loose at his open collar. His eyes were a
striking green and there were a few tinges of grey in his otherwise very dark
hair. It was going to be both easier and harder this time. It would be easier
because he was so sexually attractive, but also harder for the same reason.
During my previous sexual encounters with clients I had been able to close my
eyes to their imperfections (or vague attractiveness) and just fantasise. I
remained emotionally detached and managed to thoroughly enjoy the physical
waves of orgasm in the places where my wildest fantasies took me. I had no need
to fantasise with this guy, but how could I close my eyes? How could I
possibly avoid looking at him?
I felt quite
heady, too hot – my instant infatuation with this guy the prime cause. I was
trying not to be blatant but struggled to keep my eyes from drinking in his
physique and his ‘bedroom’ designer stubble. He was a little too attractive for
my liking. I needed to keep emotional distance from my clients and
too
attractive would mean too much temptation - temptation to look too deep into
those eyes and search his very soul. I wondered if he could sense my eyes
burning into him. He finished pouring the wine, turned around quickly and
stared back at me, his eyes shining with desire and pleasure as they roved over
every inch of my body. I was thrilled in one sense to be found so desirable by
this perfect specimen of masculinity, but the excitement that I could barely
contain, I perceived as an unwanted threat to my resolve.
He came over and handed me a large glass of white
and said,
“You’re shaking
and tense. Relax. I don’t want anything perverted or anything that you’re not
willing to do. I want your warmth, your company, and your body, but later –
much later. We’ll spend a couple of hours just getting to know each other a
little better. Is that okay with you?”
Was that okay
with me? Phew! It certainly was – or was it? There was an element of doubt
creeping in. I didn’t really want to be in this situation – I didn’t want or need
to know anything about this man and yet I couldn’t resist playing along with it
all. Perhaps the alcohol was to blame for giving me that sense of bravado. I’d
rather it was that, than any genuine eagerness on my part.
I heaved a huge
sigh of relief hoping he didn’t think I was reluctant. I was anything but
reluctant, but not quite ready just yet. I wanted to wallow in the anticipation
for a short while. Undress him in my mind…and get my head around what I wanted
and needed. I needed to enjoy his body and show him the good time he was
paying me for. My intent was to fuck him senseless and at the same time achieve
my own selfish pleasures. The thing I really didn’t want to do was to let this
guy into my head, to mess with me!
“I suppose that
would make sense.” I uttered, barely audible.
“When did you
last eat?” he asked, passing me the menu, “I’ll order up some room service,
just have a look and choose whatever you like.”
I felt sick. I
didn’t think I would be able to eat and I told him so. Whilst I was struggling
to understand what was wrong with me, I was vaguely aware that I had allowed
him to coax me into ordering something light. He’d opted for something similar,
placed the order over the phone and turned to me again
,
“Right! Music
or a film? I’ll leave it up to you.”
I could feel my
eyes well up, touched by his kindness and consideration,
as I smiled up at him, thinking I’d struck gold, but not in the
financial sense. He’d paid for my airfare, was wining and dining me and
allowing me to choose our evening’s entertainment.
I
imagined that he would afford me that same consideration in the bedroom. In the
short time I had been in his company, I was confident that selfishness would
not be in his nature. Although I had usually managed to achieve orgasms during
my assignations with previous clients, that was down to my own exuberance
rather than any attempt by
them
to pleasure me.
Given my short
experience, this was a very new approach from a client. I liked it. It was
lovely to be treated in this way, as a person with real feelings, rather than
as an object on which every orifice was to be used and abused. I had to keep
reminding myself it was a business arrangement - he was paying for my time.
Also at the back of my mind was the fact that he would be fucking me at some
point, as had already been agreed, and I devoured that thought with relish, and
that feeling was new to me. I felt a sensuous warmth and tingling course
through my body, the wine glass trembling in my hand. It wasn’t just the sex –
I was beginning to really like this guy. The trouble was…I didn’t want to like
him. I wanted to feel indifference towards him and his…personality. I don’t
want emotional involvement with any man, I’m too insecure – the insecurity
caused by two men, my two longest relationships. The unfaithfulness, the hurt –
and how I feared having to ever deal with them both again. I don’t think I
could ever trust another man with my heart.
“Have you
decided then…what is it to be?” “I f-feel like a t-teenager on her first d-date
– being g-given a choice.” I giggled nervously. He laughed. I don’t know why I
felt so uneasy, or perhaps it was because I could sense that I was being sucked
in, against my will?
“Come on Helen,
help me out here. You’re my guest.” He smirked as he threw out his arms in a
gesture of mock helplessness.
My heart
fluttered as he said my name for the first time, and slightly bemused by his
insistence and his amateur dramatics, I considered the options – a film or some
music? Was I actually interested in talking to the guy and getting to know him
better? No, I certainly wasn’t. It was a business transaction. So why did I
find myself uttering,
“If we are
meant to be getting to know each other, then a film wouldn’t fit the bill,
would it?”
“Good point.
I’ll find some music then pour us another glass of wine each.” He held out his
hand for my glass, so I finished what had remained and handed it over. I almost
recoiled when our fingers touched briefly, not wanting to feel that connection
– that chemistry. “We’ll unwind and chat, yes?”
Taking the lead
in our chat, I purposely kept the conversation general, skirting around any
subject that may have led to questions about me and my life. He gazed intently
at me and watched my every move. I could have sworn that in his mind he was
already having sex with me and wasn’t really listening, though he smiled often
and asked or answered questions in the appropriate places. The conversation
between us jumped from one subject to another and I marvelled at how amusing he
was,
how intelligent….and how …charming and
sexy. There was a sudden lull in our tete a tete as he stood up and went to
fill our glasses again.
Even though we
had eaten nearly an hour before, the wine had taken affect and my nerves had
settled down considerably when, unexpectedly, he slowly turned, head tilted to
one side and asked, “Why are you doing this Helen? Why are you here in this
hotel room
with me, when you have evidently had so
much? Tell me, why the sudden career change?”
He had such a
puzzled look on his face…such a look of bewilderment, that I could barely
contain my sudden urge to satisfy his curiosity. It was another first – a
client who was interested in me enough to ask why. It filled me with warmth but
rendered me speechless because I knew that if I was to answer one or two of his
questions, he would bombard me with even more. Maintain your silence, Helen, I
silently reminded myself.
“You don’t want
to answer me.” There was a genuine tinge of disappointment in his eyes as he
spoke and he let his shoulders sag in an over exaggerated manner, but only
momentarily. I was relieved to see his face break into a smile, and I smiled
back, amused by his attempts at acting.
“Can I tell you
what it is I can see about you? ”I gave him my affirmation with a slight nod, lowering
my eyes as I did so, not wanting to make eye contact as he told me what he saw.
I wasn’t even sure I wanted to hear his opinions.
“You have
class. You are impressively intelligent. I’m guessing a private school?”
I glanced up at
him for a moment, gave him a half smile and a nod before I looked down at my
hands. I didn’t really want to hear compliments from him - I was trying to keep
an emotional distance, for fuck’s sake!
“You are also
well-spoken…beautiful…and you are fairly new to this…way of life. ”I looked up
then, straight into those amazing eyes, eyes that were trying to read me. I was
overwhelmed by his compliments. My heart was racing, but this was in total
conflict with my head. My thoughts told me to get out of that room and away
from him and my feelings! I tried to steal my eyes away from him, afraid he was
reading me too well.
I decided to
play it down, so desperate to put emotional distance between us, I gave a
pleasant sigh, curled my legs up beneath me on the settee to give him the impression
I was relaxing in his company.
“We’ve only
just met David. I know nothing about you - I don’t want to, and you don’t need
to know about me. I take it you’re not sorry that I am here?”
“Certainly
not!” He laughed then, the puzzled expression gone. If he felt any
disappointment at my reluctance to open up, he didn’t show it. He joined me on
the settee, leaning back with his hands behind his head and his legs stretched
out in front of him, his eyes fixed firmly on mine.
Hoping to put
the ball back in his court and get the conversation onto some safe subject, I
asked,
“So what are
you thinking now?”
“My thoughts?”
Once more in his amateur dramatics mode, he placed the heel of his hand to his
forehead and raised his eyes to the ceiling as if in deep thought. His mouth
turned down then in mock disappointment.
“Well, as I’m
not going to discover anything about you and your life – One - I can’t wait to
make love to you. Two - I’m going to have a bath and I want you to join me. Three
- I want some more wine.”
Make love? What
the hell? A warning bell was ringing in my head. Only two men in my life had
ever made love to me and they were not clients. He was paying me for sex, so
why would he use that terminology? It slowly dawned on me. He was a gentle
natured guy, and he was far too polite to say that he wanted to fuck me. He’d
opted for a much nicer way to express it. I was pacified, I’d found my own
answer to my question.
“Make love to
me David?” I chuckled, shaking my head at him in disbelief. “Clients want to fuck
me, do perverted things with me - not make love to me!”
He grinned at
me saucily and chuckled. “Do they indeed?“ He moved closer then, and put his
arm around my shoulder. Leaning in even further he kissed me on the cheek and
asked in a more serious tone,
“Does all that
meet with your approval? Do you want to be made love to or do you want to be
fucked, Helen? Either works for me.”
Whilst the
thought of being made love to excited me, I knew that I couldn’t let that
happen. I wanted this to be nothing more than a fuck. I leaned towards him
playfully and returned the kiss on his cheek, ruffling his hair as I stood up.
“After the
taxis and airports I could certainly use a soak in the bath, if it’s big enough
for the two of us. As for the sex, as long as it’s good we can call it what we
want, can’t we? Let’s see what category it falls under once we get started.”
I was
determined as ever that once we started, it was going to be one mammoth, dirty,
fucking session, where the words ‘love making’ didn’t exist. It would be sexual
gratification without the heart strings. I was already feeling the warmth and
dampness in my panties that accompanied the tendrils of a wanting ache that was
spreading within the deepest parts of me.
I watched,
fascinated, as he removed each item of his clothing to reveal a truly
beautiful, tanned and toned body. I wanted to reach out and touch him, if only
to confirm that I wasn’t dreaming. His eyes roved up and down my body and I
couldn’t help but notice his delectable cock was stiffening even as he watched
me. Conversation was minimal whilst we bathed. I sat imagining what it was
going to feel like to be fucked by him and I relished the thought. I wanted to
know what David was thinking, but with his demeanour and his eyes taking in every
bit of my skin, it looked as though his thoughts were not far removed from my
own. We playfully sponged each other down, but there was no awkwardness in our
silence. I was comfortable with him and I knew he would treat me right. It was
pleasant to relax and take in every detail of his body. Every last inch of him
was perfection. I was finding it hard to breath and my body ached to have him
inside me. We fondled tentatively for a short while before getting out of the
bath. As he held the towel in his hands he had not started to dry himself. He
was transfixed as I towelled myself dry.