The Accidental Call Girl (21 page)

Yes, she had. Once, a long time ago, reading it for a dare, at school, not really knowing what she was taking in. Parts had made her hot, in a confusing sort of way; other parts had been incomprehensible. What man, loving a woman, would casually give her away to someone else?

‘Of course I have,’ she replied, shuffling her skirt and petticoat from beneath her. He was being a bit contrary, so she wouldn’t give him a flash, at least not yet. Tentatively, she settled down on the leather seat. The hide was fine and silky, and at first it felt cool to her skin, but as a natural substance it quickly warmed to match her heat.

What a relief the leather was dark, because she was so wet she would have made a mark on pale-coloured upholstery.

‘How does that feel?’

‘Very sexy. You should try it.’

For a second, his eyes flared, and she saw his fingers flex, as if about to stray to his belt. ‘Maybe another time.’ He returned his attention to his laptop.

Was that it? He’d primed her engine. Left her sitting her feeling aroused and exposed, yet not exposed, by the leather against her bum, and now he was back to work again. Men! She felt stirred up, yet defiant. She wanted to look out of the window, watch the passing scenery, and occupy herself with that, ignoring him. But she couldn’t. The kiss of the leather was inescapable, and it was like his hand constantly caressing her. Her sex was heavy, agitated, more and more in need of his real caress, goddamn him.

‘I would imagine that you’d rather like to masturbate right now.’ The
ding
sound of an arriving email issued from the laptop, and John appeared to read it with close attention, as if he’d not said anything out of the ordinary. Perhaps he hadn’t . . . for him.

‘No, I’m fine. Just enjoying the ride.’

‘Liar.’ His voice was amiable, but he didn’t even look at her. He appeared to be answering the email he’d just received.

Discreetly adjusting her position, Lizzie watched him. Anything to distract herself. He was actually working through emails, answering some, deleting others, writing new ones himself.

‘Don’t you have a P.A. to do all that? A man like you must have a thousand drones on call at the snap of his fingers. It seems a bit weird that you do all your own correspondence.’

Pausing, John turned to her. ‘Yes, I do have drones, a whole army of them.’ His mouth curved wickedly. ‘And normally I travel with my P.A. and sometimes other staff. But I gave Willis some time off, to spend with his family, because I rather fancied taking this trip on my own.’ He looked her very levelly in the eye. ‘In fact, I rather fancied having an adventure this time around . . . and here you are.’

Lizzie shivered inside. Being thought of as an adventure excited her. Of course, deep, deep down there was still that stupid part of her wanting to be more than that, but here in the semi-real world of what was actually possible, being his adventure worked for her.

Bearing down on the seat, she savoured the kiss of the leather, imagining it was John’s hand . . . or even, oh yeah, his face. He wanted her as his submissive, but, she sensed, there might be a time when he’d be prepared to let the tables be turned.

But not now, though. His sharp, blue eyes narrowed. He’d seen what she was doing. She sensed he was about to reprimand her, so she asked the first mad question that came into her head. ‘So you have a male P.A.? What’s he like? Is he as good looking as his boss?’

John looked impressed, as he’d sussed her tactic, and applauded it. ‘Willis? Yes, I would say he is rather a dish. His wife certainly thinks so.’

A dish?

Pressing her sex against the slinky, slithery leather, Lizzie was assailed by crazy visions. John had called the man a ‘dish’, almost as if he’d fancied him himself. She didn’t think he did, but who knew? The dishy man beside her was a sexual experimenter, and she had a feeling he was probably game for anything and had tried most kinks in his time.

Could John be bisexual? The idea of him in a hot clinch with another gorgeous man made her tremble. Would he be dominant there too? Or perhaps . . . not so much.

Ooh, John, bent over a chair, being fucked, his beautiful face contorted in pleasure-pain as some unknown stud pounded into him.

Suddenly, in the real world, John laughed and shook his head. His blond hair was immaculately groomed this morning, but the action made one curl dislodge and dangle over his forehead slightly. Lizzie longed to reach out and touch it.

‘You’re a woman of secrets and private thoughts, Bettie, but in this case I can read you like a book.’ He smirked, then, for a second, snagged his lower lip between his teeth. ‘You’re wondering if Willis and I have ever fucked, aren’t you?’

She grinned back at him. ‘Well, you’re gorgeous, and if he’s “a dish” too . . . It’s the sort of thing a lot of women think about. Two men together, twice as sexy, twice as much male pulchritude . . . twice as many cocks.’

‘Is that a fact? Women like to fantasise about men shagging men?’

‘Well, maybe not all women, but I do.’

True, one of her fantasies when she and Brent had briefly been lovers had been to see him with a male partner. It had never happened, but she’d still thought about it. And even now, very occasionally, the thought still drifted into her mind from time to time. It seemed a bit icky to imagine her born-again platonic friend
in flagrante
now. But there was nothing to stop her picturing her new friend, John Smith, with some blatantly handsome and willing P.A.

‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart, but Willis is very, very strictly heterosexual. He’d be horrified if I came on to him, and he’d leave. Which would be bad for him, because I pay him very well, and bad for me, because he’s superlatively good at his job.’

‘But if that wasn’t the case, would you come on to him?’

Good grief, why was she pushing so?

Blue-star eyes narrowed. ‘So, you’re asking me if I’m bisexual?’ There was an odd, very sharp note in his voice, and he paused, drawing in a deep breath, almost as if to keep her on tenterhooks. ‘The answer will cost you, beautiful Bettie. Do you still want to know?’

She had to know. She’d probably expire from curiosity if he didn’t tell her now.

She nodded, too excited to speak.

‘Very well. I’m not currently bisexual and I’ve no plans to change that. But I can’t say I’ve never experimented.’ The laptop beeped softly, telling him more emails had arrived, but he closed the program. ‘There were some caprices at public school . . . but who didn’t have a fling there? There were crushes.’ For a moment, he looked far away, the expression on his face stark. ‘Mostly other boys with crushes on me, though. I was just as gorgeous then as I am now.’ He seemed to be making light of it, yet his eyes were troubled and he frowned, as if confused for a moment.

It was Lizzie’s turn to make light, to deflect dark. She sensed he needed it. ‘And just as modest and self-deprecating too, I’ll be bound.’

‘Ah, but
I
was a dish then. Fresh and bonny, and my hair was much lighter. I was a golden-haired cherub and there were quite a lot of lads who wanted a piece of me.’

‘You’re a dish now.’

The smile he gave her was dazzling and strangely grateful. Logging off his computer, he closed the lid and put it aside, before retrieving the briefcase, and taking out a file of papers and a pen. Lizzie was surprised to see it was an ordinary bog-standard rollerball, such as she might have used herself, bought from a supermarket or paper shop. Shouldn’t a tycoon of his stature be using a solid gold Mont Blanc or something?

‘Flatterer,’ he said mildly, making a swift notation on the top sheet. ‘Anybody would think you wanted me to tell you a lurid tale of my misspent youth. It’ll cost you a damn sight more than just a few sugary words.’

‘Name your price!’ She gave him a bold look. The offer was irresistible, whatever the cost.

‘Well, first I’d like you to masturbate to orgasm, here and now, while I tell you. Then, I’ll want to spank you when we reach our destination. And, finally, I’ll almost certainly want to have your arse at some time during this jaunt.’ He stared at her, unblinking. ‘That’s my price.’

‘You drive a hard bargain. You ought to be in my game. You’d make a fortune with your negotiating skills.’

Again came that not quite happy expression on his face; and Lizzie could have kicked herself. It could have been something to do with the work he was doing but she didn’t think so.

‘Well, you could say that I did once sell my body for money . . . but that’s an entirely different story. For another time.’ His pen stilled, hovering over the paper. ‘What’s your answer?’

What had he done? When? And who with? The questions jostled, but she knew it was counterproductive – and perhaps painful – to go off on that tangent now. And she was desperate to know what had happened, back at his public school.

‘It’s a deal. Let’s have that story. Your sleazy exploits in the dorm or whatever.’

‘Oh, it wasn’t sleazy. I was infatuated, and so was he. For about three weeks we thought it was lurrrve.’

‘Who was
he
?’

‘Uh oh, this is a deal, remember?’ He nodded in the general direction of her groin.

Fishing under her skirt and petticoat, Lizzie slipped a hand between her legs. She was hot and wet, and when she touched herself, she had to suppress a gasp. At this rate, the first portion of his price would be easily paid.

‘I hope you’re wet. I wouldn’t like to think you’re sitting there unmoved by all this.’

‘Don’t worry, I am . . . I’m saturated. Making quite a pool on your lovely upholstery.’

‘Wonderful. And his name was Sherwood. Benjamin Sherwood. He was in my year. I even knew him socially. His family were part of our county set.’ For a moment, John looked dreamy, as if the memories were very fresh. ‘He was tall and rather skinny, but elegant with it. Hair black as ink, and curly. He wore it longer even than I wore mine, much to the consternation of our house master.’

‘Were you just boys?’ She felt a bit strange, thinking about teenage boys.

‘Upper sixth, both eighteen . . . There was a hell of a lot going on between lads of all ages, but I didn’t get into it until it was almost too late. Although perhaps it was better that way, less time to get found out, cause a scandal and enrage my father even more than I usually did.’

For a moment, she wanted to ask him more about his family, and what she suspected was a long-standing estrangement, but he went on, whisking the opportunity away.

‘One afternoon we both had a free period. It was hot, oppressive, unbearable inside. I’d seen him heading off for a walk in the woods, and I followed him.’

‘Ah, the woods . . . You seem to have a thing for shagging in the woods.’

John smiled, and shifted slightly in his seat. She couldn’t see his groin for the folder of documents, but she would have bet her life on him already having a hard-on, stiff and massive.

‘I do indeed. So did he. We’d sort of skirted the subject previously while out on a hike . . . but done nothing. Well, not much. Just a kiss or two and a bit of rubbing through clothes.’ He gave her a sly, sideways look. ‘But following him, I was ready, you know? I was as infatuated as he seemed to be . . . and I wanted the Full Monty. I was prepared.’

‘In what way?’

John nodded at her. ‘Let’s see some action first.’

Slowly, she circled a fingertip around her clit, slithering and sliding in the well of moisture. She hardly dare press on, she was so near, imagining young John ready to go into action with his paramour. There was no way of knowing what this Benjamin really looked like, except in the broadest terms, so she pictured him as a tall, dark, curly-haired actor off the telly that she rather fancied.

‘I’d got condoms. A tube of something. As I set out, I honestly didn’t know exactly who’d be using what . . . but I didn’t care. I just wanted to get off, with Benjamin. And to kiss him. He was a fabulous kisser. His tongue was almost as clever and tricky as yours.’

‘So . . .?’

‘You first. Make yourself come, right now, and I’ll tell you all.’

She started to rub in earnest, but suddenly put on the spot, she tensed up, and the desired orgasm seemed to speed away from her like a receding light. Spreading her legs wider, she rocked a little, but she couldn’t seem to get it.

‘Sod it . . . I . . .’

‘What’s wrong?’ His brow crumpled, and he seemed to be genuinely concerned.

‘Sometimes I can’t always do it to order . . . you know, come.’

A look of enormous wonder seemed to light John’s face from within. He looked for an instant like that eighteen-year-old cherub, beautiful, almost untouched, but curious.

‘You could have faked it. I would have thought that was standard operational procedure?’

Yes, for real escorts, she wanted to say, but didn’t.

‘Not for me. I like to give the client a bona fide experience. No sham or fakery.’

Putting aside his papers, he slid along the seat. ‘Well, for that, I’ll help you. You’re a sweet, honest whore, and I like that.’

Well, I’m probably none of those three, but who cares?

Sliding his hand beneath her skirt, he gently nudged her fingers away, and replaced them with his own. They were bigger, but still deft, almost as intuitive as her own as he gently settled his middle finger right on her clit and slowly rocked it. The desire that had drifted away came flooding back. Relaxing, she let her own hands settle beside her on the seat, giving herself up to him.

‘I found Benjamin waiting in our so-called trysting spot. A little hut in the woods, a sort of summer house, half tumbled down, but it was still reasonably private if someone should happen by.’

Sensation gathered beneath his clever finger and she bore down on it, already right on the brink. He flicked her and she fluttered, letting out a moan.

‘He came to me immediately and started to kiss me and, while his tongue was in my mouth, he unzipped my trousers and took hold of my cock. He was a bit rough. He didn’t quite know what he was doing any more than I did, but I didn’t mind the discomfort. In fact, I liked it.’ He leant against her, kissing the side of her face. ‘See, I was already into kink at an early age.’