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I’d been putting it off for ages. That is never a good thing to do but … Now I was sat staring at the laptop in the dead of night and scared of the future. I was horrendously in debt! Too many nights out. Too many clothes and shoes bought on a whim. Add to that the joys of my first credit card. Things had finally come to a head yesterday when I was out shopping, and my card was refused. The humiliation of having to walk out of the store, no doubt watched through the raised eyebrows of the sales assistant. Now I had to face reality.
I spent the rest of that night sleepless, my befuddled brain trying to work out some sort of plan. By the morning nothing had come to me. My flatmate found me in the kitchen sulking into my coffee.
“Hey, what’s up? Are you ill?”
Silvie was the sweetest person I knew, and her genuine concern tipped me over the edge. I burst into tears. Without a word she came up and put her arm round my shoulder. She pushed a tissue into my hand and simply hugged me. We ended up on the sofa in the living room. I was already late to leave for work but instead I just clung to her for comfort. Little by little she dragged it out of me. The silly over-spending, the massive debt. The problem seemed to come down, not just to curb my spending, but how to deal with the debt.
I have a lowly job working in some godforsaken warehouse, sorting out deliveries. It isn’t hard work nor is it mentally very taxing which also means that it’s not very well paid. I was just too lazy to look for anything better. I had fooled myself with the pretend riches that a credit card could bring. Eventually I stopped crying and wiped my eyes. I looked at Silvie.
“What the fuck can I do?”
“How much are you in for?” she asked, being practical as always.
When I told her she whistled through her teeth. “Wow, babe, that’s bad.”
“Okay, let’s talk practicalities. This month’s rent?”
I glumly shook my head and said, “I don’t think I can.” I could feel the tears threatening to start again but she interrupted my moment of self-pity.
“Okay, I’ll cover that and you can owe me. I’m guessing food as well?”
I managed a nod.
“No probs, but no more nights out or any fancy dining. Agreed?”
I nodded again, summoning up a little more enthusiasm. If there was anyone who could help me out of this, it was Silvie. She started to ask me more detailed questions about my income and lifestyle, even getting me to bring my laptop down and looking through my finances. Gradually my faith in her grew.
We were an odd couple in many ways. We are both gay women, but we weren’t ‘together’ so to speak. At one point in the dim and distant past we had once shared a bed together but in the morning, we had agreed that our friendship was more precious. We went our separate ways as far as partners were concerned. We would both occasionally bring a girl home and have manic sex for a couple of days before reverting to our usual routine of watching box sets and sleeping alone in our own beds.
“Right,” she finally said decisively, “what you need is more income and less spending. I can’t believe they pay so badly.”
“Its minimum wage,” I said trying to defend them.
“It’s a fucking disgrace is what it is,” she replied. She paused before continuing, “I have one suggestion, but you may not like it.”
She looked at me quizzically, trying to work out my possible reaction to what she was about to say. For my part I perked up to think there might be a solution.
“You could come and work with me at the Agency.”
When Silvie and I first met she’d been working in a call centre, a job as humble and lowly as mine. She was a friend of a friend who happened to be there on a girl’s night out. We got on really well from the get-go but not in a sexually attracted to each other way. We just seemed to blend together really well. During the evening she happened to mention she was looking for a flatmate and I said I was hunting for somewhere nicer than my current bedsit. Within a week I’d moved in. After our mistaken attempt at having sex I think she was right. Instead of lovers we became very special friends. When she quit her job at the call centre and started on this new one, she was a little vague about the details, but her mood changed. She was suddenly much happier, and she was clearly earning a lot more money. She bought herself a small car for starters. So, when she mentioned the Agency, I was both intrigued and a little nervous. I found the name a little scary.
“Hey, don’t look so worried, it’s not what you think. The hours are good, and the money is fucking amazing. You could work off your debt in a couple of months.”
“But I’ve never understood what you do?”
“We have the arduous task of going out to dinner and being company for professional women. And it’s usually very posh restaurants as well.”
“They pay for that?” I asked, feeling a little shocked.
“Okay, most of the time they expect a little more, but we’ve all been there, haven’t we?”
I Eryaman Escort suddenly blushed as memories came flooding back. I had once allowed myself to be chatted up in a bar by a woman who must have been knocking on the door of 60. As it turned out she was amazing in bed. She took me back to her hotel and did things to me I’d never experienced before.
“The point is that after the meal is when you make all the money.”
It was slowly dawning on me what I was being offered. On the one hand a chance to get out of my current problem, on the other I was being asked to sell my body. I had no idea what that must be like, but I only had one example of it in real life and that was Silvie. Since she had started this new job, she was noticeably much livelier and, more important from my current point of view, more financially stable. What could be wrong with, at least, giving it a go.
“So … what would I have to do?” I asked.
“Well, you could come in with me this evening and I can introduce you to Mrs B.”
“She’s the boss of the Agency. Not sure of her real name but I think its double-barrelled. She’s a bit posh and runs it as a tight ship but she’s lovely underneath. She’ll like you I’m sure.”
“Will I have to … you know … do things on the first night?”
“Don’t panic. She’ll want to check you out first. When she interviewed me, she took me out to dinner to try me out. She’ll probably do the same for you.”
“Did you … err … go the whole way with her?”
“Yes, we did but it’s okay, she’s a very sexy older woman. And very good at it,” and she winked, knowingly. “You wanna give it a try? What can you possibly lose?”
It didn’t take long for me to make up my mind. The job sounded fun and it offered a chance of a debt-free life. I nodded.
“Okay, first off get to bed and have a sleep. You have bags under your eyes that would suit a round-the-world cruise.”
I went into the bathroom to relieve myself and saw myself in the mirror. I looked awful, my eyes puffy and my cheeks tear stained. I splashed water on my face then went to bed. I can’t say I slept much but I felt better for a day in bed.
It was late afternoon when Silvie came into my room bearing a cup of tea. She sat on the bed while I sipped it slowly. I love Earl Grey, anytime, anyplace.
“Okay, I’ve phoned Mrs.B and she’s happy for you to go in and have a chat. But first a shower,” she said as I put the cup on my bedside table, “Mrs.B insists that her employees are squeaky clean. Then tart yourself up, but not too much. We are lady’s companions and not whores.”
With that, she got up and left me to it. Under the shower I soaped and scrubbed like never before. I was determined to make a good impression. I was just finishing my makeup when Silvie reappeared. She had a good look and nodded her approval and then took over and supervised my wardrobe. She immediately went for my midnight blue dress that I had bought in a mad moment and never worn since. It still had the label attached. It plunged down at the front almost showing off my belly button and was so short it verged on the obscene. Silvie assured me it was exactly right for the evening to come. She rummaged through my knicker drawer and found an electric blue thong. It was another impulse buy but was so minimal I’d never had the courage to wear it. The cut of the dress didn’t really allow for a bra so that was one less choice to make.
It was mid-summer and still well before sunset, so she made me put on a light coat before we got into her car. We parked up in the multi-storey which was rapidly emptying. It was strange to think that most people were heading home from work while we were only just starting. Silvie guided me through the city centre and then down a small side street. I was sure I’d been down here before but had ignored the simple door and the discrete brass sign next to it. “Central Escort Agency” it read and nothing more. Silvie rang the intercom and gave her name and the door buzzed open.
The Agency was on the first floor up a narrow staircase. It opened up onto a pleasant waiting area reminiscent of a very exclusive doctor’s waiting room. A young girl sat behind a desk on the far side.
“Hi, Julie, I’ve brought my friend to meet Mrs.B.”
“She’s expecting you, Silvie. Just let me call through.”
The girl spoke into the phone and then told us to go straight in. Silvie led me through a door to an inner office. Sat on a deep red leather sofa was a well-dressed woman, in a cream business suit with a black shirt, who stood up as we entered. She seemed to ignore Silvie and concentrate her attention on me, looking me up and down. Then she smiled and held out a hand.
“Welcome, my dear, I’m Mrs Beauchamp-Rivage, a bit of a mouthful I know so most people call me Mrs.B. And you are?”
“Angela,” I said, hoping my nervousness didn’t let me down.
“Delighted to meet you,” she said taking my hand and leading me forward, “may I take your coat?”
Not Sincan Escort waiting for me to reply she pulled my coat from my shoulders and let it slide down my arms. She tossed it onto the arm of the sofa and then looked at me again. Slowly she walked around me, inspecting me from every angle.
“Very pretty,” she said, “do I detect Silvie’s hand in your choice of dress?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied, butterflies filling my tummy. I wasn’t sure how to address her but that seemed to hit the right note. She smiled at me and retreated to take up her previous place on the sofa. She patted the red leather beside her and beckoned to me.
“Come and sit here, sweet Angela. I think we might drop the ‘a’ and call you Angel. What do you think?”
“If you think so, Ma’am.”
Abruptly she turned her attention back to Silvie who had remained standing quietly by the door. She glanced at her watch.
“You have a meeting with Miss ***** in 15 minutes at the Rochelle. It seems you made a good impression last time as she asked for you specifically. You’d better run along. Mustn’t be late and keep the lady waiting.”
Without another word Silvie turned and left the room and Mrs.B turned back to me. I smiled at her and then looked away as she continued to scrutinise me.
“That’s a very provocative dress, young Angel, but you wear it well. So short and with a neckline that promises so much.”
As she spoke, she traced one side of the plunging neckline with her finger, her nail dragging across my bare skin as she did so.
“So, you want to come and work for me?” she asked, still running her hand up and down my cleavage, almost toying with me. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. “Do you think you can handle it? You have been told the nature of the work by Silvie I assume.”
“Yes, Ma’am, she’s explained it to me and I’m sure I’d fit right in.”
“You understand that you will not be working for me as such. I act only as the facilitator so to speak. I am paid by women, both local and visitors to the town, to introduce them to companions for the evening. What happens then is up to you, but I can advise you about what is the norm. At the very least you will get a very good meal at a high-quality restaurant. After that who knows?”
She looked straight at me while she said all that, trying to gauge my response. I nodded seriously to show that I had been paying attention. Her next question took me by surprise even though Silvie had told me what happened with her.
“Are you hungry, little Angel?”
“Then let’s go, I’m famished.”
She stood up, taking her exploring hand with her and collected a light coat from a coat rack. She returned and picked up mine and held it out to me, helping me to put it on.
“It’s a pleasantly warm evening,” she declared, “I think we’ll walk but I’m not sure the public is quite ready for that dress, but it isn’t far and it’s one of my favourite places.”
She held the door for me and followed me down the stairs into the narrow lane. She linked arms with me, and we walked together.
“I have recently turned to being a vegetarian, my dear,” she told me, “and this place has a reputation second to none. They also do meat though, if that’s not your choice. I’m trying to stay healthy as well as keeping up with the latest trends.”
“I eat very little meat, Ma’am, although I do enjoy fish.”
“Then you are in luck, my dear. Their sea bass is gorgeous I’m told. Ahhh here we are.”
We stopped outside a shop front which seemed to be the only place nearby with any lights on. She pushed open the door and stepped inside. She was greeted by name and with a welcoming smile and immediately shown to a table in a discrete corner. I thought it a little odd that we weren’t handed menus. Our server arrived, a very pretty girl, even younger than me, and dressed in the standard black skirt and white blouse. The only differences were that the skirt was alarmingly short, and the blouse was so tight and almost transparent. I found it difficult to take my eyes from the dark outlines of her nipples.
Again Mrs.B was addressed by name. She must be a regular here. In turn she spoke to the server using her first name.
“Good evening, Monique, lovely to see you again. What do you have to offer me this evening?”
“I would recommend the stuffed aubergine, Mrs.B.” and she jumped as Mrs.B’s hand reached out and vanished up her skirt.
“That sounds lovely,” replied Mrs.B, “and my companion will have the sea bass.”
I watched the server intently. The initial shock had now passed, and she seemed comfortable as Mrs.B’s hand cupped one cheek of her bottom. This was obviously a regular occurrence. The thought crossed my mind that perhaps Monique was available for those evenings when Mrs.B dined alone.
“And a bottle of something white and dry. I leave the choice to you.”
“Certainly, Ma’am, I’ll be right back.”
She walked away, the hem of her skirt still Etlik Escort rucked up showing tantalizing glimpses of her bottom. She returned almost immediately with an opened bottle of wine in a bucket of ice and two glasses. She poured out two glasses for us and quietly left. Mrs.B raised her glass and we clinked, and both took a sip. I nearly choked on mine as her hand also went to my thigh and began to creep up under the hem of my dress. I took another sip to calm my nerves. So Silvie’s tales of being tested were true. I knew I had to make a good impression. After all this was probably a taste of what my duties would be in the future.
I looked around the room hoping that nobody could see what was going on under the table. Deciding to go with the flow I eased my legs slightly further apart and her hand slid dangerously high. I could feel myself starting that familiar tingle but even so, I jumped a little and I felt the pressure of her fingers on the thin fabric of my thong. I felt wet and hoped that this wouldn’t put her off me. Maybe it was what she wanted, I reasoned.
I was both relieved and disappointed when our food arrived. Just the presence of her hand had excited me. But we had to delay things as both hands were needed for eating. My fish was one of the prettiest plates of food I’ve ever seen. The fillet, with its golden and crispy skin, was delicately displayed on a bed of leeks and finished off with fresh green herbs that I didn’t recognise and sprinkled with tiny blue flowers. It was so beautiful I hesitated to start.
“Is it not to your liking, my dear Angel?”
“I’m sure it will be delicious but it’s so pretty.”
“If you’re wondering …” she said, seeming to read my mind, “that is samphire,” pointing at one of the herbs with the tip of her knife, “and that is sea purslane. The other I’m not sure but we can ask later. The flowers are borage. Please enjoy it.”
I took this as a hint and picked up my knife and fork. I glanced across to her side of the table. Her meal was equally as pretty. The aubergine half was filled with what I thin was cous-cous but seemed to be alight with little red jewels. This was obviously a very high-class place and I suddenly felt out of my comfort zone. I quickly glanced around but no one seemed to be taking any notice of us which calmed me down a little.
Mrs.B said almost nothing while we ate which suited me as it allowed me to concentrate on my meal. When we had finished, Monique magically reappeared and took our plates away.
We’ll have dessert in a moment,” she said turning to me, “but we need to discuss business first.” It was no surprise when her hand returned to my thigh and began to stroke up and down, each time extending its range. I tried to concentrate on what she was saying but my arousal came back almost at once.
“I charge to introduce my clients to young ladies such as yourself. That fee is mine, it is down to you to negotiate for yourself. No one is forcing you to do anything. If, for any reason, you don’t want to go further than the meal, then decline politely and nothing more will be said. Of course, if you do so too often then you may find introductions become a rarity and your income will suffer. Is that clear?”
I nodded and swallowed hard as her hand pushed insistently against my thong. I knew that it must be very wet by now. She had stopped sliding along my thigh but now traced the outline of my pussy through the thin silk. It was becoming hard to concentrate but I forced myself back to the sound of her voice.
“The standard fee, according to my girls, is £500 for the evening with extra entertainment after the meal. £1,000 is not unknown if you are asked to stay all night. Very occasionally you will be needed for a weekend, maybe longer, but the fee for that is for you and the client to discuss. Most payments are in cash and it is up to you what you admit to the tax people. Some are by card so you will need one of these.”
She leant to one side and scrabbled around in her bag. She brought out a payment machine. She showed me how it worked and how to connect it to my bank account so that payments would go straight to me. I was still reeling from the amounts of money she had mentioned. The thought of my debts disappearing into oblivion made me smile.
“Silvie told me you were having cash-flow problems so I’m happy I can help. Now, shall we have dessert? I suggest one of their chocolate fondues and one of their mille feuilles then we can both try them.”
Maybe she had a sixth sense, or there was some secret signalling, but Monique was there again as if by magic. Mrs.B gave her order and off she went. By now she was exploring inside my thong and was toying with my clit. I shut my eyes trying to stay focussed. When our desserts arrived, she removed her hand and held it before her and breathed in deeply. Then she held it out to Monique.
“What do you think?” she asked the girl who seemed to be taking it all in her stride.
Monique leaned forward slightly and breathed in through her nose. “She smells wonderful, Ma’am.”
She then held it out to me. I thought she expected me to smell it as well but instead she told me to clean it. I glanced around the restaurant with horror expecting all eyes to be on our table, but no one was looking. Knowing that my response was under scrutiny I took her fingers into my mouth and sucked on them.
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