“Hey babe,” a drunken reveller shouted at her at a break in the live music. She had been entertaining the gentlemen at the party all night and was feeling decidedly tired; she had certainly earned her money but smiled at the guy staggering over to her. “Were you the girl who fucked ol' Georgie?”
He pointed at a drunken guy collapsed in the corner and she nodded.
“He said you had the loveliest cunt he had ever seen.” He shouted, and there was near silence in the room. “Who wants to see her cunt?”
There was cheer amongst the music and Sandy appeared behind her. “They want you naked babe.”
“Let's have all the chicks naked,” cried a voice from the other side of the room and Grace looked around. She knew five of them were there as “entertainment” but there was at least four times that number who were guests but as the chanting and hollering started all of them stripped to satisfy the testosterone-filled urges in the room.
Grace peeled her silk lingerie off that the host had provided: she was paid to do this and couldn't complain, but got groped as she did, and the provided underwear disappeared into the crowd as soon as it had been removed from her. Certainly the party had got more hedonistic and debauched as the night had wore on, and the alcohol consumption had risen.
“Hey, a shaved fanny,” yelled a girl in front of her and eyes descended on Grace. She was stroked, fondled and manhandled as every guy in the room wanted to feel her smooth, glabrous womanhood. She looked around, she was the only woman in the room she could see without pubic hair and a couple of gentleman took an unusual interest in her all of a sudden. Perhaps she looked a bit too young, and they were creepy.
Grace was used to undesirable gentleman, half of the men at the parlour were what Sandy called “inky” and she was used to be treated as a sexual object, but she was not going to complain: she was getting paid an enormous sum of money just to drink free beer, give blow jobs and fuck anyone who asked. She was earning in one night what she would earn in over a week at the massage parlour although she was beginning to be a little sore and was quite glad she wasn't working there for a couple of days.
Sandy had come to her rescue half way through the night and slipped her a small tube of K-Y Jelly which she was discreetly using to reduce friction. It was a common ploy in the massage parlour, but worked very well at the party as the guys were fairly drunk and she was having to put condoms on them anyway so a small squirt of lubrication as she positioned them into her was not noticed and they came pretty quickly from the intercourse.
“Let's see the two girls fuck,” a voice cried and Grace was pushed towards Sandy, and they gave each other knowing smiles.
“Sure,” Grace cried. “You can go on top!”
“I haven't got my knickers or my bra,” Sandy moaned as they stepped into the road. The room where they got changed had been raided as souvenirs and a large number of clothes had disappeared from when they arrived to when they left, although their cash for the night was still in the safe, to everyone's relief.
The party was a fifteen minute walk from their house, residing in one of the more fashionable parts of London and the girls had opted for a brisk walk instead of an expensive taxi ride.
“Well I am bottomless,” Grace whinged and Sandy peered down at her friends predicament.
“You do look sexy though,” Sandy told her and Grace wrapped her coat around her to protect her modesty as much as possible. The wind rustled up her thighs and it did feel sensual as the coat barely reached her waist. “Hey, we really worked for our cash, eh?”
Grace smiled and darted between the street lights. “Yeah. One guy just keep coming back for blow jobs. He was hurting my jaw in the end.”
Sandy chuckled. “I know. I had a guy who loved my ass. I reckon I went though twenty rubbers tonight.”
Grace nodded and darted down behind a parked car as cyclist came past.
“Oh Grace, don't be silly, it's just a cyclist. And he looks like Terry.”
Grace peered out, wondering if the guy was Terry, if he was stalking her but it wasn't.
“I saw you looking. Hoping that it was I bet.” Sandy teased.
Grace scoffed at her friend and replied scornfully, “don't be silly.”
Sandy poked her tongue out at Grace and shook her head. “I know you better than that, you were checking out his butt last night. You had that horny look in your eye.”
“I didn't. He is just some punter who thinks I might want to be his girlfriend.”
“Well I still think you should have given more than three dances,” Sandy told her as the meandered their way through the piles of rotting rubbish on the kerb. “He did pay for your drinks and his hands didn't wander. And Gracie, he is so cute. I bet you were thinking of him at the party.”
“I was not,” Grace lied indignantly and then sighed. “And anyway, he was a punter,” Grace added wearily. They had been having this conversation all day and she was getting very tired of it. “I just don't date people who pay me for sex. It's messy.”
“It is a little messy. But he was cute,” Sandy replied, repeating the sum total of her argument. “Remember the way he insisted on paying for your drinks and all he wanted was a peck on the cheek in return. Are you sure he is just a punter, he said some really nice things about you?”
Grace groaned as she recollected. Terry had certainly been very complimentary about her, how she looked and danced, and he did keep his hands to himself when they were dancing but he still paid her for sex, and that made him off-limits and unsuitable boyfriend material.
“And he walked us to the end of our street,” Sandy reminded her. This was true, Grace had insisted that he go no further citing parlour rules, and he was quite happy with this. She watched him sulk off into the night as Sandy and her walked up their poorly-lit road to bed. “He certainly likes you.”
“That's true, he does.”
Sandy bit her lip for a moment and then confessed. “When you went to the toilet, he did sort of ask when you were next working.”
Grace spun round and looked at her friend under the street light. “Please tell me you didn't tell him,” she pleaded and Sandy looked apologetically sheepish. “Oh great! Well at least I've got two days of peace,” she replied sharply. She wasn't annoyed with Sandy, she was never annoyed with her, but she had wished she hadn't divulged to him when she would be working. But then, all he had to do was ring the massage parlour anyway, and she could hardly be a prostitute who wasn't happy to have sex!
“So if you didn't like him,” Sandy asked, “why did you give him a free blowjob?”
Grace sighed, the same thought had occurred to her also.
Grace slid the dildo into her well lubricated pussy, and faked a groan. She kept making exaggerated and loud moans as she pumped the fake phallus into her quicker and quicker.
She made a loud, explosive orgasm and then started panting.
“And cut! Oh Kat that was wonderful. Just the photos now and we'll be done.”
Grace picked up a towel and wiped the lubricant, masquerading as juices of female arousal from her nether regions and threw the dildo off the bed. She had taken up a friend of Neville's offer of making some pornography but didn't expect it to be so pathetically boring.
While Grace's father was English, her mother came from Eastern Europe and so she had a smattering of continental facial features that the director liked; foreign girls always sold well and he was confident that if he gave her a foreign name on the credits, something like Tatana or Svetlana, then it would sell very, very well.
For that reason, Grace was not permitted to speak she had to groan, moan, fuck, suck and squeal, but not utter a single English word.
Sandy had also swung herself some extra work, she was working in an illegal casino, serving drinks almost naked and encouraging customers to spend more money than they could afford.
As much as she found most of the work at the parlour dispiriting and gloomy, making pornography was soulless and depressing. She was glad she would be returning to the more familiar surroundings the following day.
Grace and Sandy pushed open the door to the massage parlour. The manager was behind the little desk, smoking and greeted them as they came in. “Look lively gals,” he said is his cockney accent. “It's openin'”
Grace and Sandy darted into the little room and got changed into more revealing attire and returned a few minutes later.
“Oh Gracie,” her manager called as she emerged. “There's a geezer in the end room for ya. He asked for yew only.”
Sandy smiled. “I bet it's Terry.”
“Oh I hope not,” Grace replied and the manager shooed her along the corridor to the room at the end.
It was. Grace bit her lip and stared at the tall guy sat on the massage table. She was a little annoyed that he had returned and asked specially for her, but he was just a client, and she preferred him to most of her other punters so she returned a forced smile.
“Lie down,” he told her and she stared at him, motionless. He jumped up from the table and held out his hand where he had been.
“Pardon?”
“Lie down,” he grinned and she peered at him confused. “I want to massage you.”
Grace chuckled. “It doesn't work like that, hun.”
“But I want to,”
She cocked her head. “Why?”
“Cos I do. I've only got you for an hour so just let me.”
Grace sighed and stared at him confused. “You really want to give me a massage?”
“Yes, I want to make you smile. So hurry up, get your top off and let me start.” Terry cracked his knuckles so Grace peeled off her white tank top and laid across the table. There were some oils on the side, and she guided him to use a token amount and then warm it up first in his hands.
It had been several weeks since Sandy had given Grace a massage, and she forgot how much she enjoyed them. Sure, Terry wasn't that good, he wasn't experienced but he had strong hands and was soft with his movements and his flowing motions caused her to purr contently once he had told her to just relax and stop worrying.
She sighed and glanced up at the clock. They had had fifteen minutes already and she was forgetting where she was and what she was supposed to be doing. “Don't you want one from me now?”
Terry shook his head and then realised she couldn't see him and muttered that he didn't. He had tried not to talk too much, this didn't come naturally to him and he was concentrating on what he did. He had spent the last three days reading up on massage techniques and had even visited a massage parlour in Manchester to ask the young lady to teach him the art of massage. This caused her much amusement until she realised he was serious and although he had paid for it, he did not want sex with her, just an hour of tuition.
Why was he doing this? He simply didn't know. There was something about Grace he could not put a finger on that made her so wonderful. Maybe it was the fact that she was not immediately submissive to him after that chance meeting when he took her to the club, but his eyes twinkled when he saw her, and her indifference towards him he put down to reticence and not a dislike of him.
Every girl he had ever taken out had warmed to him quickly and it had been easy; his parents were very well-off and Terry was never short of money, and he was a generous man by nature. Too often he wondered if the girls liked him because of the notes in his wallet, but here was a girl who he had warmed to immediately, and who liked him but was being evasive and hard to get. The thrill of the chase added to her allure.
Grace was also trying to rationalise Terry's behaviour but couldn't manage it so she just enjoyed his hands working their way over her skin. She was worried he would want to ask her out, or start stalking her so she had to display a coldness, but she did like him, he had a cheeky smile, a good sense of humour and a warm personality.
Terry asked Grace to turn over, which she did, displaying her firm breasts and hourglass figure. He smiled when he looked into her eyes.
“Do you mind if I take these off?” Terry asked as he pointed towards her knickers and she smiled at him. Most punters would have ripped them off but he was asking for permission politely and with genuine sincerity. She smiled.
“Of course you can,” she replied and he slid them down her legs, admiring the labia poking out through the skin. “You've paid for me to take them off.”
“You are very gorgeous,” he told her. “As beautiful as a rose petal.” Grace blushed.
Terry beamed at the girl and started massaging her thighs. She closed her eyes and he kissed her on the nipple, taking her erect point in his lips and swirling his tongue to meet it. He had dreamt of Grace every night for the last five nights, and she had been the subject of his masturbation all week; he went rock hard the moment his lips made contact with her.
She opened her eyes and smiled at him. He hadn't asked for, or paid for sex but she knew from his behaviour he would probably want it. She deliberated how to broach it, but let herself go with it for the time being. She was enjoying his soft, gentle movements. He sucked her other nipple. She felt a deft hand touch the top of her hairless sex.
She gave a gentle grunt and his fingers wandered down her wet, slippery fold. She sighed and opened her eyes. “Don't you want…”
Terry shook his head and kissed her stomach and then her mons, and his tongue finally took the place of his fingers. “I want you to relax and smile.”
Grace opened her eyes wide, and started when his lips made contact. This was getting weird. In all the massage parlours and brothels she had worked at over the last two years, she had never, never had a guy go down on her. Even her boyfriends since she had first had sex six years ago, refused or only did it under protest. What was going through this guys mind?
Her ponderings were cut short as his lips darted up and down her labia and then poked at her pearl. She squealed and he sucked gently on the little button.
Grace's hands started massaging her breasts and Terry grinned. His hands went to the mouth of her pussy and oscillated in the hole. Grace cried out and Terry rolled his tongue around her engorged clitoris.
Grace shrieked, “oh god,” before making high-pitched, nasal sounds. Her loins were melting and she was desperately holding out. She couldn't orgasm, she couldn't. She never came at work, she'd save her orgasms for her boyfriends, herself or even Sandy, but not for punters.
But she was coming. Terry's artful fingers were probing deeper, and his joyful sucking on her clit was taking her over the edge.
Warmth, lustful heat, filled her loins and she cried out loudly, the sound echoing off the cold, hard walls of the small room. Her muscles quivered rapidly and her crotch exploded.
Terry smiled at her and continued his gentle touching until she had finished squealing and crying. She was still panting and he moved his face away, drying it on a towel.
They kissed briefly before Grace was snapped back to the present. She was kissing a punter, after he had gone down on her. That was wrong on so many levels and she felt acutely embarrassed.
“Now, what do you want?” Grace asked seductively but Terry just shook his head and kissed her on the cheek. He pressed a “Florence Nightingale” banknote into her hand and leaned into whisper.
“Just lunch. Tomorrow. With you, at this lovely riverside cafe. It's on me,” he replied somewhat cryptically. Grace looked at him, and he blew her a kiss. “Please,” he added with a pleading look and left the room, leaving Grace very confused but extremely satisfied.
“He did what?” A couple of the girls, including Sandy, asked in absolute shock.
“He kissed me, massaged me and went down on me,” Grace replied, still not quite believing it herself. “Incredible orgasm.”
“You lyin' gal,” one of the elder workers replied. “Those men don't come in here. We're cheap 'n' we cheerful, love.”
“Well he does but I don't know where I am supposed to meet him,” Grace answered “Even if I wanted to. Which I don't.” Sandy asked to see the ten pound note and Grace passed it to her.
“He has written it on the money,” Sandy told her, peering at the faded piece of paper. “Look!”
“Well I am not goin',” Grace replied instantly and Sandy leaned across smiling.
“Babe, you know you will. I've got hours to work on you yet.”
“There is no way I will go to meet a John for lunch. No way.”
“Is that your cat?” the old woman asked as Grace was shooing it out of the flat. She had spoken to her on an almost daily basis since helping her with the shopping and learnt that the widower was called Ethel.
“No. Well we've been adopted,” Grace admitted. “My partner wants to keep it.”
“You should let him,” Ethel replied and Grace smiled, not correcting her. “Oh, and I've baked some of my Angel Cake, I've put a couple of slices aside for you.” Ethel went indoors and returned with a small plate containing two slices of pale yellow cake. Grace smiled and thanked her.
“I need to get going, I'm meeting someone in town soon,” Grace replied and poked her head into their flat to call for Sandy who came bolting out, clothed in a beautiful summer dress.
“You know he is coming to meet me not you,” Grace teased looking at the beautiful dark-haired girl.
“Yes I know, but I like it. It shows off…”
Grace looked at the short garment. “Everything.”
“Well, yes, everything. And to be honest Grace, you might have made a bit more an effort yourself.”
“Be grateful I am going. I still can't believe you've made me,” Grace moaned as they turned into the next road. “I am sure you cheated.”
Sandy gave a grin. “I don't need to cheat,” she lied. “Yo' useless at cards when you've had a drink. And if you really didn't want to come you wouldn't have bet that, would you?”
Grace hummed. “S'pose not.”
Grace puffed out her chest and walked up to the tiny cafe on the corner of the street. Terry was reading his newspaper and didn't see Grace come up to the little table so she reached down and rubbed his neck.
“You came. I didn't think you would,” Terry admitted and Grace smiled as she sat down.
“Sandy made me,” she told him honestly and he looked across at the big-breasted, black-haired beauty sat in the corner eyeing them. “But this isn't a date. And I would like to know what you are playing at?”
Terry chortled. “I thought you might.”
“Well?”
“I like you, you make me smile. And I split up with Anne, broke off the engagement…”
“That better not be for me,” she replied quickly and he held up his hands.
“No. Not for you. But because of you. I saw that there was someone that I had come across that I was attracted to and liked much much more than my fiancee. I couldn't marry her knowing that.”
“But Terry. You're a nice guy but I can't go out with my…” Grace hesitated. She didn't want to refer to him as a punter in front of him and searched her mind for a better word.
“Client?”
“Exactly.”
“I know. Which is why I wish we hadn't. I mean it was incredible but I like you, there is something about you that is so very sexy and enchanting.”
Grace blushed but she did not like the direction this conversation was taking. She had always avoided dating anyone who had been a punter; it caused too many problems but she was being propositioned again; the last guy in Brussels hastened her decision to leave the city when he got too obsessed.
“It's just you are a client,” Grace told him and the waitress emerged to take her order, which brought a temporary halt to their private conversation.
He waited until she left, and then continued. “I know, I thought you would say that. But what can I do to make you want to go on a date with me.”
Grace sighed. “Nothin'. I do like you but we crossed that line so there is no going back. But let's enjoy lunch, eh? You're a nice guy and I'll enjoy your company.”
Terry groaned and put his hands on Grace's. He was not going to give up that easily. He needed to woo her, but he just didn't know how to make himself irresistible; he had never had to before.
Sandy had given Grace plenty of chastisement and advice since that enjoyable lunch, especially as Grace had admitted she was beginning to be quite fond of him and she had laughed repeatedly over the ninety minutes they had together. Sandy could understand but not agree why Grace refused to date this guy but over the week she had migrated onto other things to talk about (the weather, the traffic, the attitude of the Brits and the exorbitant cost of food being the main gripes.)
They pushed open the door to the massage parlour and the receptionist greeted them warmly.
“Oh Grace,” the receptionist said as the teenager passed. “These were dropped off for you fifteen minutes ago by a tall bloke in a suit.”
Grace groaned and looked a big bunch of red roses. Sandy took them and opened the card on the bottom, which when Grace refused to read, she broadcast to the entire room.
“Dear Grace. I will admire and want you until the last rose has faded. I'll be at that cafe at the same time tomorrow. Terry.”
“Oh what's that supposed to mean? Until the last rose has faded,” Grace ranted and put the roses down on the desk to go into the small changing room. Sandy stared at the roses, and pulled one out. “Hey Grace, this one is a silk rose. It ain't ever going to fade.”
Grace stared up at the ceiling and swore. “What do I have to do?”
“Give him a chance, babe” Sandy told her and she took the flowers into the changing room, full of stale cigarette smoke, to get changed. “Or someone else will.”
Grace sighed. “Yeah? Let 'em.”
Terry beamed when he saw Grace come up to him, but his smile disappeared when he saw Grace's facial expression.
“What's up?” Terry asked and Grace puffed.
“Isn't it obvious?” Grace flung herself down in her chair. “You have gone from cute and sweet to just scary,” Grace told him and peered out from the menu. “Admire you until the last rose faded. What the hell were you thinking?”
Terry bit his lip and shrugged. “It's true though. I will.”
“Stop it,” Grace said sharply. “Please stop it. We can't date. I can't go out with you because you paid a prostitute for sex.” A few heads turned in the restaurant to look at Terry who shrugged it off.
“I know,” he replied in a less-audible tone than before. “I know I did. It was a stag night. These things happen. He did too, but he got married yesterday.”
“They do happen Terry, but I won't mix business with pleasure. So this has to stop.”
Terry wiped his eyes and gave a tortured smile. “If I hadn't have had sex with you would you go with me on a date? A single, solitary date?”
Grace peered back at him and pursed her lips together. “Well, it's a, it…” Grace stammered and then finished quickly, “oh I don't know,” and buried herself in the menu. She wiped her eyes and looked back at Terry and shrugged.
“Well I am willing to believe that night never happened, if you are,” he asked and she shook her head.
“How can it be the same? And anyway, what I do for a living, most men don't like it.” Terry put his hand on Grace's but she just sighed and put on an exasperated tone. “Oh hello love, what did you do this week? Me, I put up five houses. Did you love, that's good. I fucked forty guys. More wine?”
Terry nodded and then put his hand on Grace's. “Well I do know what you do and I still want to take you on a proper date. A show, a meal. I want to get to know you.”
Grace sighed and gestured to the waitress to stop at their table to order their lunch. “You are a really nice guy and you will make some girl very happy. But it can't be me, so can we have lunch because I really enjoyed last weekend or are you going to keep on trying to bully me into a relationship?”
“Not bully, just woo,” Terry replied and they caught a figure striding towards their table.
“I'm sorry Gracie, but I can't ignore this anymore,” Sandy said and pulled up a chair, pushing the waitress out of the way. “You are totally useless with men.” Grace screwed up her face at the interruption but Sandy pretended not to notice. “You are. You give incredible sex but you are shit with relationships. I know you can get guys to amazing climaxes and they just love you and your shaved pussy and the smile you give. And you make them happy but you are so shit at actually understanding them.” A few heads turned round in the restaurant and Grace buried herself in her seat.
“Now look at him, he has come all this way twice just on the off chance of seeing you. And taken you to lunch and even split up with his fiancee because he might be able to talk you into a date. What more do you want from him, Gracie?”
Grace stared at her flatmate. “What do you mean, what more do I want?” Her eyes fizzed dangerously and Sandy gave a weird, angry look.
“Because he likes you. Why not give him a date. You are single, so is he, so give him a go. Just do it one date at a time, but if you don't stop being so cold, you will end up lonely. Men like him don't come along very often.”
For only the second time since they had met, Grace was angry at her flatmate. “Sandy,” she said furiously. “Just piss off and stay out of it.”
“Not until you see sense,” she said resolutely and Grace stared at them both, threw her napkin on the table and walked out of the cafe.
“Grace!” Terry called as she stormed down the riverbank. “Grace, wait!”
Grace turned to face the man with his outstretched hands. “What?”
“I don't want to put pressure on you, but can we at least finish our lunch?”
Grace sighed and saw Sandy behind him. “I'll go back to the flat,” Sandy told her in a shocked voice.
“Yeah, sorry Sandy,” Grace muttered, but Sandy gave her a forced smile and skulked off into the distance. She swore and kicked a small bollard in anger at herself and Terry watched.
“Please, I didn't mean for her to…” Terry mumbled and Grace nodded.
“I know,” she replied tersely. “It's me. I shouldn't have shouted at her.”
Terry looked over at the empty street, and held his hand out towards his lunch date. “Please, can we have lunch?”
Grace smiled at her companion. She sighed, took Terry's hand and wandered back inside the small cafe.
They were stared by all the patrons as she did; the small argument and storming out of the small eatery had its customers chattering in hushed whispers amongst themselves, especially what they had already announced to the other diners.
“Wedding was lovely,” Terry said and she smiled. “Small church just outside Watford. Bluebells in the churchyard, lovely reception. Bride was absolutely beautiful.”
“Does she know what went on, on the stag night?” Grace asked and Terry swayed his head.
“She probably has a good idea but she won't care.” Grace raised her eyebrows but he just smiled. “He is one of the richest people I know. They live in a big house, have big cars and live well. He keeps bringing home thousands of pounds a week and she doesn't care about the two mistresses he's had or the whores…” Terry looked at Grace and then added. “But that's not what I meant.”
Grace's face warmed. “It's OK. It's just a word. And anyway, I spent most of my time around Europe being a stripper not a parlour girl.”
Terry smiled and opened his mouth to speak but then closed it. “Let me guess, you were about to say you'd like to see me do that,” Grace added and Terry went sheepish.
“Yeah OK,” he admitted with flushed cheeks and Grace took a long sip of her lemonade. “I'd love to capture you on film, you have the most wonderful body. The pictures would be amazing.”
Grace blushed. They chatted warmly and affectionately, like old friends, and then walked out onto the river bank and turned down river. Grace had wanted to pay at last half for the meal but Terry refused.
Grace put her hand on Terry's rear and he put his arm over her shoulder.
“So, have you given up on me yet?” Grace asked and Terry peered down at her.
“Do you really want me too?”
“It'll be the absolute no-no. You never date your punters. It just gets messy.”
“But I was a one-off,” Terry replied and then added. “And it doesn't answer the question.”
Grace sighed and grinned. “OK. I'll think about it. Breaking one of my golden rules. I am a little uncomfortable about it but you aren't like any of my normal punters.”
Terry smiled. “Will you let me take you out next Saturday?”
Grace took a deep breath and nodded, maybe Sandy was right. What harm can a date do? “Yeah OK. I'll think about it. Maybe next Saturday, a trial date, if you like,” she suggested and he smiled. She was being difficult to get but he was getting there, she was softening, slowly.
They parted on the river bank and as Grace went to leave, turned back and looked at Terry. “Hey lover boy. You don't want a flea-bitten, mangy cat to take back to Cheshire do you?”
Terry smiled at her. “No. Not unless it comes with you.”
Grace grinned. “I come with a completely different pussy.”