by Lizzy Grey
Chapter Seven
As the weeks went on, Wednesday, became her favourite day – and night – of the week. After saying goodbye to Liz and Amanda, who still thought she seemed a bit down, she’d get a cab driver to drive her around central London while she got herself into what she called ‘party mode’ in the back. Half a bottle of vodka soon progressed to three quarters and then to the full litre.
In the ladies toilets of various hotels she would change into increasingly slutty dresses, shoes, and lingerie she bought on the internet. Arranging her hair and slapping on enough makeup to make her unrecognisable, she would totter to the bar and order the most alcoholic cocktail they had. Who cared if her breath stank? Downing the cocktail, she would hit the dance floor to attract cock. To shut out her mind-numbing life with alcohol and cock was all she wanted.
Tottering out onto the dance floor of the – she couldn’t remember the name of the hotel but who cared – she saw male eyes swivelling in her direction. She was wearing the ‘wet’ dress she had turned down for her hen party as it was too slutty. Now, it was perfect. It attracted cock. Within five minutes, she was in a toilet cubicle, with a man’s head between her legs sucking her clit. He was good and her clit was throbbing. Usually, they couldn’t believe their luck and it was over far too quickly. This one knew how to use his lips and tongue and she pulled his face into her pussy, moaning as she came.
“Do you suck cock?” he asked and she hesitated before answering. Jamie didn’t like it, she remembered, and she wondered why for a moment before shaking her head. “Not even mine?” he added, holding it up for her to see. “I’ll give you fifty quid for a suck.”
“I don’t want your money, or to suck your cock. Just put a condom on and get it inside my pussy.”
He smiled, taking a condom from his wallet. “What do you like more? Booze or cock?”
“Both.” She smiled, watching him roll the condom on. “A lot of booze and a big cock.”
Returning to the bar ten minutes later, she ordered a cocktail and threw it back. About to order another, she saw Anthony with a blonde woman further along the bar. Sliding off the bar stool, she tottered towards the ladies toilets. That had been close. Pushing the door open, she went inside to check her makeup. Looking good, Freya. She smiled at herself then at the door, as it opened and a man in late middle age and wearing a creased grey suit came in.
“I’ve been watching you,” he told her. “And my friend had your clit just now. He enjoyed you very much.”
“Oh?”
“I have a proposition for you. I have another ‘friend’ who needs some company for an hour or two.”
“I’m not a prostitute.”
He smiled. “No, of course not, but you wouldn’t say no to five hundred quid so you can buy yourself some more booze and get a monster cock inside you.”
One of her eyebrows rose. “A monster cock?”
“So the cock attracts you more than the money?” He pursed his lips. “Interesting.”
“I don’t fuck for money. I am not a prostitute.”
“An escort, then? A high-class escort.”
She stared at him. Jamie was an escort and was respectable enough for two snobs like Liz and Amanda to have hired him for her. But he was an experienced escort. And a man well able to take care of himself.
“I’m not an escort. High class or otherwise.”
He shrugged. “Your loss.” Turning away, he tapped the door of one of the toilet cubicles. “Monica will do it,” he told her smugly as the door opened and a skinny blonde came out.
“Five hundred quid? Who is he?” the blonde asked, going to the sinks to wash and dry her hands.
“A lonely Russian businessman.”
“Can he speak English?”
“He speaks perfect English.” The man reached into his jacket pocket, took out a wallet and extracted a bundle of banknotes. “Two hundred and fifty now and the rest later.”
Monica exhaled a harsh laugh. “No fucking way. You must think I’m stupid if you expect me to believe you won’t do a runner like the last time I entertained one of your ‘friends’.”
The man chuckled before reaching into the wallet again. “Five. Hundred. Pounds,” he told her, lifting Monica’s black mini skirt and inserting the half the banknotes into the lacy top of her stockings and the other half down the cleavage of the skin-tight white top she wore.
“What’s the room number?”
“Five hundred and three,” he told her.
“He uses a condom, I hope?”
The man nodded. “All my ‘friends’ use condoms.”
“Okay.”
“Good girl. I’ll buy you a drink later.”
Monica left the toilets and Freya stared after her. She didn’t envy Monica the five hundred pounds, but the massive cock would have been welcome. The man cleared his throat and she jumped.
“If you want my business card – and I hope you do, I’ll be at the nightclub bar until this place closes. In the meantime, why don’t you go and listen at the door of the room? I know you’re curious and it might make you change your mind about being an escort. Monica won’t mind. Room five oh three. Got it?”
She nodded, tottered out of the toilets and towards one of the lifts. Inside, she checked her appearance again – still looking good – before the doors opened at the fifth floor and she went in search of the room. She saw Monica knock at the door and it open immediately.
“My ‘friend’?” a male Russian accent asked.
“Monica.”
“You are welcome.” The door was held open for her. “Do come inside.”
“Thank you.” Monica went into the room, the door closed and Freya scurried along the corridor. She put her ear to the door. “Have you been to London before?” Monica was enquiring.
“Many times, and it can be very lonely. A drink? I asked for vodka.”
“I love vodka.”
“You do?” he exclaimed, and Freya heard the clinking of bottles and glasses. “Excellent. I will pour us some while you undress.”
“You want me to undress?” Monica sounded hesitant.
“Of course. I will, too, but it would be nice for me to watch you first.”
“All right.”
“You really do love vodka,” he chuckled, and Freya heard the clinking of glasses again. “Lie on the bed and open your legs, I want to suck your clit.” Silence followed until she heard the man laugh. “That is good.”
“Oh, God,” Monica whimpered. “Oh, God, yes.”
“Good,” he said simply and a moment later he and Monica both groaned and Freya heard the bed squeaking rhythmically until he groaned again. “Thank you,” he added. “I would like to suck your breasts now.” Freya cringed as he began to noisily suck Monica’s nipples like a child, making gurgling, childlike noises. “You have good breasts.”
“Thank you,” Monica replied in a flat tone.
“I fuck you one more time then you go.” The bed began squeaking again until he groaned again. “You are good,” he said. “You may dress now.”
“Oops.” Monica laughed and Freya jumped as something thudded against the door.
“You love vodka too much. But you are good fuck, so who cares. I ask for you when I am in London again.”
Freya hurried to the lift and the doors closed just as Monica left the room.
In the nightclub, she saw the man at the bar ending a phone call and tottered towards him.
“He’s nothing but a bloody weirdo,” she told him indignantly. “Making bloody baby noises while sucking her tits. Yuck.”
“Well, he liked her,” he said, putting the smartphone in his jacket pocket. “He said she was a good fuck and that he’d definitely be back.”
“Well, good for him.”
“He pays five hundred quid each time and he does have a monster cock, I can assure you. Want to find out just how big the next time he’s in London?”
“No,” she replied firmly.
The m
an sighed. “Maybe you’re too drunk to fully comprehend just how huge his cock is,” he said, looking her up and down and making her squirm. “I don’t like my escorts drunk on the job. If you do want to work for me, you’ll have to sober up. Unless you prefer to pick up men and have them fuck you in toilet cubicles?”
“Fuck off.”
He smiled. “You like cock. I get you cock. You get paid for cock. Think about it.”
“I have. And I don’t want to work for you.”
“I can find you the enormous cock you want in your pussy. Think about it,” he urged, taking a business card from a pocket and passing it to her. “I could do with a cock-lover like you.”
Turning away, she went to the cloakroom attendant and collected her bags. In the hotel lobby, she put the strap of her handbag over her shoulder before leaving the hotel.
After bribing a cab driver to take her, she sat in the back and looked at the business card. The letters and words swam in and out of her vision and she sighed, putting it back in her handbag. Had she got enough vodka? She checked the bottle, her eyes widening with surprise when she saw that it was empty. Getting the driver to let her out just outside the off license, she went inside and bought two litre bottles. As was becoming a habit, she went into the alleyway and gulped half the bottle down before burping loudly.
On the fourth attempt, she inserted her house key into the lock and she almost fell into the hall. She froze. The last thing she needed was to wake any of the staff up. Marcus, she knew, slept like the dead and he hadn’t even heard her falling over in her bathroom the previous week. A sheet of his headed notepaper was on the hall table and she picked it up, swaying as she attempted to read the message.
Gone to Scotland for a week
Good, she thought, scrunching it up. When the cat’s away, the mouse can play.
It took her five minutes to get up the stairs and she treated herself to a few more gulps from the vodka bottle before falling into bed.
It was midday when she woke and, after a breakfast consisting of drinking the cafetiere dry, she prepared to go shopping. She needed more dresses. She needed to go to the hairdressers. She needed to make sure that she kept her image slutty but changeable.
Armed with her platinum credit card, she hit the shops, rewarding herself with a purple dress so short it ended just below her buttocks. It had one shoulder strap and it crossed her chest, conveniently hiding her scar. The second dress she bought was black, not quite as short but it had a high lace neckline which hid her scar but emphasized her breasts to perfection.
Moving on to shoe shops, she bought a pair of knee-high black boots with a three-inch heel and a pair of red platform shoes with a four-inch heel.
After buying more makeup, she got her hair done, emerging from the salon delighted with a slightly shaggy look she had never dared go for in the past. Stopping at a phone shop, she bought a smartphone with an untraceable pay-as-you-go sim card and slipped them into her handbag. Now it was time to go home and get herself ready.
In her bedroom, she decided on the purple dress and the boots, gulping from a bottle of vodka. In her bathroom, she applied the makeup, emphasizing her eyes with eyeliner, eyeshadow and mascara. The plumping purple lip gloss matched her dress and she smiled. She was man bait.
Sitting on her bed, she reached for her handbag, took out the business card and her new smartphone.
Perfect Strangers Escort Service. Providing the best high-class escorts in London. Your every desire is but a phone call away.
She stared at the telephone number for a moment before taking a gulp of vodka and returning the business card and smartphone to her handbag. Don’t be tempted, she told herself. The bastard isn’t to be trusted.
Donning her long black woollen winter coat, she put another full bottle of vodka in her handbag and took a cab to the hotel. Not wanting to break her neck on the stairs, she tottered to the lift and went down to the lower ground floor. Leaving her handbag and coat with the cloakroom attendant, she went into the nightclub. Her heart sank when she saw the bastard sitting at the bar surveying the dance floor. And her. A sleazy smile touched his lips and she longed to run away but her need for alcohol was greater.
“And what can I do for you?” he asked, and she could hear the excitement in his voice. “Still looking for that massive cock?”
“Yes, but not via you.”
He laughed. “But I have exactly the ‘friend’ for you.”
“And I suppose he has a huge cock?” she asked.
“I’m not going to lie to you. I’ve seen it and it’s fucking gigantic. Interested?”
“No,” she replied, climbing onto a stool and ordering a double vodka.
“But he loves pussy and you love a big cock. You’re made for each other.”
“How touching.” She knocked back the vodka in two gulps. “What’s his name?”
“John Doe.” He smiled.
“Of course it is. What is his name?” she asked again.
“Danny Franks.”
“Danny Franks,” she repeated and slid off the stool. “Okay.”
“Hey?” he shouted after her as she ignored him and left the nightclub. “Don’t you want your money?”
She went upstairs the hotel lobby, to the reception desk, and asked the receptionist for Danny Franks’ room number.
“It’s number 510.”
She frowned, having expected to be told there was no-one of that name staying in the hotel. Leave or go to the room? She needed cock, so she went back to the lift. Inside, she checked her appearance reflected in the glass panelling. Perfect. This cock had better be worth it.
Tottering along the fifth-floor corridor, she stopped outside the room and knocked. Feet approached the door and it swung open. She had to grab the door frame to steady herself. It was Jamie.
“Freya?” He gaped at her open-mouthed. “Freya, what the fuck?”
“I’m Samantha.” Pushing past him, she went inside and looked around but, apart from Jamie, the room was empty. “Where is he?”
“Who?”
“Danny Franks. The man I want to fuck in here.”
“He’s a friend of mine and he’s now in the room next door.”
“Why?” Her eyes darted around the room again. “I was told room number 510.”
“I suspect that a gentleman downstairs in the nightclub has got himself a nice little sideline off the agency I own. Siphoning off my clients and offering them that little bit extra. I’m trying to confirm it and catch him in the act.”
“He has an agency called Perfect Strangers.”
“And you work for it?” he asked.
“No. He’s asked but I’ve refused. I’m here because I want cock, not money.”
“Freya…” He tailed off, completely at a loss.
“Samantha.” Going to the mini bar, she opened it and selected a miniature bottle of vodka. Unscrewing the top, she drank half of it. “I’m Samantha. Does your friend have an enormous cock?”
“What?” Jamie gave her an incredulous frown. “I have no idea. He’s not an escort, he’s a friend. What’s happened to you?”
She gave him a drunken smile. “Marriage.”
“I don’t understand. Why did you ask me if I could wait a year? Why?”
“I can’t tell you.” Lifting the bottle to her lips, she attempted to take another gulp of vodka but he took it from her. “That was mine.”
“Mine, actually. I’m paying for the room.”
“So you’re paying for me. I came here for cock, so get your friend in here.”
“No. Freya, for God’s Sake.”
“Samantha.”
“You are not Samantha,” he told her tightly. “What’s happened? Tell me, please?”
“I can’t tell you or Marcus won’t let me go.”
“Let you go?”
“July,” she told him. “I’ll be free of him in July.”
“July is your wedding anniversary… Freya, on the phone you said a year f
rom tomorrow – a year from your wedding day – what is going on?”
“I can’t tell you,” she whimpered. “Please don’t make me tell you.”
“All right.” Lifting her hands, he kissed them. “I won’t make you.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, taking the bottle from him and gulping the vodka down.
“Oh, Freya.” Bending his head, he tried to kiss her, but she quickly backed away.
“No. I can’t let you fuck me. Unless...”
“Unless what?” He frowned.
“I’m Samantha. You’re John Doe.”
“Actually, my friend is John Doe but I’m sure he won’t mind me borrowing the name for a bit.”
“An hour,” she told him. “Do you have condoms?”
His face fell. “No, but Danny has. Wait a moment.” Opening the door, he went out and returned a couple of minutes later with a packet in his hand. “Okay… Samantha, I’m John.”
“Hello, John.” She smiled. “What do you like?”
“My cock in your pussy.”
“I think we can arrange that.”
“I should bloody-well think so with you dressed like that.”
“You like my dress, then?”
“You look…” He tailed off and just shook his head.
“I need help to take my panties off,” she invited.
Bending, he slipped his hands under her dress and eased her panties down. Stepping out of them, she almost stumbled and he grabbed her waist. He guided her to the bed, sat her down and undid his trousers. Watching him ease his trousers and boxer shorts down and off, she smiled as his cock sprang to attention. Now that was a massive cock. He rolled on a condom and she lay back on the bed with her legs open.
He climbed onto the bed, over her and sank deep into her pussy. She cried out and he went to withdraw from her.