Filthy for the Night (For The Night #3)

by C. J. Fallowfield

  Filthy for the Night

  C.J. Fallowfield

  Kindle Edition

  Version 1E

  ASIN: B00NJ02ICG

  Copyright © 2014 C. J. Fallowfield

  All Rights Reserved Worldwide

  Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations and places or events, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Image Copyright © 2014

  Edited by Ella Marie

  Proof Reading by Karen J

  Cover Art by Kellie Dennis at Book Cover by Design

  http://www.bookcoverbydesign.co.uk

  Foreword

  Written as standalone quick hot reads, For the Night novellas are told in alternating points of view of Logan Steele, and his client, or clients. However, in order to fully enjoy Logan’s development, they should be read in the sequence that they are released:

  Strangers for the Night

  Virgin for the Night

  Filthy for the Night

  Ménage for the Night

  Sophisticated for the Night

  Biker for the Night

  Dominant for the Night

  Actor for the Night

  For more information, please see my social media links:

  http://www.cjfallowfield.co.uk

  https://www.facebook.com/cjfallowfield

  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7807992.C_J_Fallowfield

  Chapters

  Prologue

  Logan Steele

  Yasmin Taylor

  The Drive

  The 710 Club

  Mirror, Mirror

  Party in the Park

  Always be Prepared

  Client Evaluation

  For the Night Series

  Newsletter

  Other Titles by C.J. Fallowfield

  Prologue

  Logan

  My name is Logan Steele. I’m devilishly handsome, seriously ripped, well hung, charismatic and highly sexed. Women just can’t resist me. So when I lost my job in the construction industry and was struggling for cash, I decided to put my assets to good use.

  By day I’m a private personal fitness trainer. By night I’m a high class gigolo.

  I don’t advertise my sexual services anymore, I have a long client list that come to me through word of mouth. I’m that good, I’m booked months in advance. Scores of women pay me extortionately high fees to fulfil their fantasies. And for the most part I do. I have a strict set of rules that I abide by, which are provided in the full contract that you’ll receive along with the booking form, if accepted. I’ve bullet pointed an abridged version below, just so you’re clear before you send me an email request:

  Rules my clients must comply with are:

  I must see a picture in advance.

  I can decline the booking request without explanation.

  I can only be booked for the night.

  All sexual acts must be consensual.

  I will provide you with a report to complete, then I will choose the setting for our meeting based on your scenario.

  I am flown first class or by private jet if I am required to work abroad.

  In the event of the above, I will provide my dietary requirements in advance.

  I will perform a full background check.

  I base my variable charge on the scenario being requested.

  “No” rules that I stipulate are:

  No bareback.

  No minors.

  No physical violence.

  Nothing illegal.

  No form of emotional attachment during or after the event. I am merely performing a sexual or companion service.

  No contact after the event, unless it is for a new booking.

  And my absolute number one rule, without exception is:

  Full payment up front which, is non- refundable. There is no requirement for a refund clause, I never fail to perform.

  So, now you are aware of my rules for the night and are about to contact me, all that remains to be asked is “Who do you want me to be?”

  Logan Steele

  I shaved carefully, I couldn’t afford to get any nicks when I was seeing a client and Yasmin expected me to look on top form at all times. She was one of my most regular clients, having been with me from the beginning. In fact, I owed much of my success to her and my best friend Oliver. He’d invited me to watch the FA cup final from a box and when I’d ventured out into the hall I’d walked straight into Yasmin as she was texting on her phone, instead of watching her boyfriend down on the pitch. I’d made some smart alec remark about her long sexy legs and before I knew it, I was in her private box, in more ways than one, going at it in the toilets with all her girlfriends listening on the other side of the partition. Pretty soon I was being inundated with offers and a bidding war began on who’d be next. When the new build construction firm I worked for went into liquidation later that month, I saw the perfect opportunity to make some fast bucks, never expecting it to have pretty much set me up for life and for me to still be doing it four years later. Through Yasmin and her premiership players’ wives and girlfriends, my circle of affluent clients gradually grew, along with my fees, and here I was.

  I slapped on some aftershave and rubbed my damp lean muscular body down with a towel, giving myself an admiring glance in the mirror. I’d never been in better physical shape than I was now, and considering I worked as a private personal trainer during the day, that was saying something. Sometimes I went to their houses, sometimes, if I trusted them and Ian, my PI of sorts, told me that their backgrounds checked out ok, I had them come to me. I lived in a dockside wharf house in Limehouse, London. I owned a one and a half million pound penthouse apartment, as well as the basement, which had its own private access, so I’d turned it into a massive gym and fitness suite, with sauna and shower room and a small kitchenette. Clients didn’t know that I lived upstairs and Ian was meticulous with his checks. How he got half of the information on fitness and sexual clients, well I guess they could both be bundled under the heading “fitness,” was beyond me. Even though I wasn’t going to take anymore bookings, or have any contact with my last client, virgin for the night Summer Beresford, due to my totally inappropriate emotional response to her, I’d still instructed Ian to perform a far more in depth report on her. Morbid curiosity I guess. I felt some affinity to her that I’d not felt in years.

  I’d been relieved to find out that the jerk who traumatised her as a teenager had been killed in a car accident, though not so reassured when I’d read of her movie co-star’s track record for bedding his leading ladies. The thought of someone else with their hands on her soft delicate skin, making her whimper their name, the way she had mine, made my blood boil. I took a deep breath, I’d chosen to not confess how I really felt about her, she deserved someone better than me in her life. Besides, she’d only liked “Logan” the skilled seductor, she didn’t even know me. I had to stop obsessing over her, and hopefully tonight Yasmin would get me back on track so I could fuck Summer out of my system once and for all. Before I did, I leaned back on the cool travertine tiled wall of my master bathroom and gripped my solid cock. I gently stroked it up and down, squeezing and pulling it while remembering Summer’s innocent blue eyes looking up into mine as her
lips and tongue brought me to the fastest ever blow job ejaculation last week, and now a hand job record today. I groaned as I came and watched it mix with the hot shower water and swirl down the drain. She was fucking ruining me.

  ‘Damn it Logan, get a bloody grip,’ I chastised myself as I cleaned up again and headed back into my bedroom. I pulled on a pair of white boxer briefs, designed by Yasmin’s husband himself, chuckling at the irony. After dressing in my graphite suit, with a white shirt undone at the neck and styling my black hair into that ruffled up sexy mess that looked like I hadn’t made an effort, when really I had, I strode out to my open plan kitchen, and poured myself a long glass of water and sat at the breakfast bar to check my brief again for the evening, making sure no details had been overlooked.

  Scenario

  I want you to use, humiliate and abuse me, without physically hurting me or leaving marks for Eoin to see when he gets back from his friends stag weekend. I want to feel like a complete cheap dirty whore and it would really turn me on for you to be fully dressed, watching me get fucked by other men, to be covered in their come before you finish me off. No one makes me come like you do, Logan.

  I smiled at the last part, she screamed like a banshee when I was fucking her and I always wondered if her husband made her scream like that. Filthy you wanted, filthy you’re about to get, I thought, as I checked my watch and headed out to meet James, my driver.

  ‘Evening, Sir,’ he smiled as he held the back door of the Merc open for me.

  ‘Evening, James. How are you?’ I enquired as I rubbed my hands together and blew out a breath, the steam showing against the chilly night.

  ‘Excellent, Sir.’

  ‘I hope that you’re caffeinated, it’s going to be a long night.’

  ‘Of course, Sir. Have I ever let you down before?’

  ‘Never,’ I smiled as I curled my six foot one frame under the roof and into the backseat. Only a handful of people knew my real identity, as well as my sexual one, James was one of them. As well as a driver, he was an ex-marine, handy to have around in the event of a night where there may be trouble, and given my plan for the last portion of the evening, that was a real possibility. He climbed in and secured his seat belt before pulling out.

  ‘Are you seeing Miss Beresford again, Sir?’ he enquired, meeting my surprised gaze in the rear view mirror.

  ‘No. Why would you ask that?’ I frowned. He never discussed my clients unless I prompted the conversation, or asked a favour of him, for extra payment of course, like I had for tonight’s arrangement.

  ‘She seemed like a very nice young lady, that’s all.’

  ‘As opposed to the normal ladies I see?’ I arched an eyebrow as I looked for his reaction.

  ‘Yes, Sir. Much nicer. In a completely different league.’

  ‘She was. Is,’ I corrected myself. ‘Far too nice to be mixed up with the likes of me.’

  ‘If you’ll forgive my impertinence Sir, you’re a very personable young man, but you’re not getting any younger. At some stage you’ll have to think of giving up this lifestyle and settling down.’

  ‘I’m twenty-eight not thirty-eight, James,’ I laughed.

  ‘I know that Sir, but nice young ladies of … breeding age, that you’re attracted to as well, don’t seem to grow on trees.’

  ‘Yes, thank you for that insight,’ I sighed, annoyed to be reminded of my feelings for Summer. ‘Can we avoid the topic of my lack of a personal life from now on?’

  ‘Certainly, Sir. I didn’t mean to offend you.’

  ‘No offence caused, but I’ve got plenty of time to worry about my personal life, right now I have the rather demanding and feisty Mrs. Taylor to focus on.’

  ‘That you have, Sir,’ he smiled with a deferential dip of his head as way of apology.

  ‘Yes,’ I nodded in return and placed my elbow on the doorframe and stroked my bottom lip with my index finger as I mulled his observations over. I wasn’t sure if settling down with kids was really in the picture for a guy like me. I liked my bachelor lifestyle and the comforts my job afforded me. Plus I wasn’t going to have this level of sexual stamina forever, I had to make the most of it while I could, ensure that I was set for life before I even thought of retiring from my profession. I closed my eyes and an immediate picture of Summer, looking all adorable with her freshly fucked rosy cheeks as she stood in my shirt came into my mind. God damn her, why wouldn’t she leave me in bloody peace?

  ‘We’re here, Sir.’ James’s voice startled me out of a very pleasant fantasy scenario of my own, where I had Summer shackled to my cross and was flicking her clit with a long crop, stroking myself as she screamed with pleasure. She would have been an excellent submissive with the right training. I liked my women feisty and challenging out of the bedroom, but compliant in it. I reached down and adjusted my pulsating cock in my suit trousers.

  ‘Then you’d better confirm our arrival over the intercom,’ I advised as we idled on the gravel drive of her gated property. I wondered how much filler or liposuction she’d had done for this appointment. She’d been a damned attractive brunette the first time I’d met her in that box. She’d only just started seeing Eoin Taylor, the premiership’s rising star at the time, but as his fame and fortune grew, so did her additions. She looked more and more fake each time I saw her. Fake tits, fake nails, fake orange bloody tan, fake hair extensions, a nipped and tucked body to turn her into a size eight, instead of that sexy size twelve I’d met. I preferred my women a little more natural, than this forced Barbie doll look. Did most guys seriously prefer that to a real woman? I’d take Summer every day over Yasmin and her other little group of plastic WAGs I was paid handsomely to fuck. Thank God all footballers’ wives didn’t bow to that pressure. Thank God most women in general didn’t, they were being set a seriously bad example by some of these celebrities in the media every day.

  Yasmin Taylor

  ‘Chardonnay, I really have to go and get ready. You know it’s my night with Logan, he promised me that he has something really special planned for me.’

  ‘You’re so lucky. How do you get away with it, Yas?’ she sighed. ‘Tom sticks a finger up my pussy when he comes home, after even a night away, to see if I’ve been stretched, then sniffs all my knickers in the laundry basket for even a whiff of another man’s come.’

  ‘Eoin may be one of the best footballers this country’s ever seen babe, but he’s a dipshit when it comes to all other things. When they were handing out brain cells, he wasn’t even last in line, he didn’t realise that there was a bloody line.’

  ‘Stop,’ she laughed. ‘I still dream about that one night I had with Logan when they were playing in Brazil. It had been nearly a week and Tom still knew that my pussy didn’t feel right. Thank God he didn’t look at my arse, I’d have won a gaping contest for weeks after that screw.’

  ‘He’s pretty damn good, isn’t he?’ I sighed.

  ‘Tom?’

  ‘No! Logan, you dozy cow. Why the hell couldn’t I have married him, instead of shit for brains?’

  ‘You wouldn’t be super wealthy Yas and you do like your money.’

  ‘I do,’ I grinned to myself. ‘Even if Logan had an identical twin, but with a cock an extra inch longer, I think I’d still prefer to have Eoin’s money. I get to have that every day and Logan’s big cock whenever I want to pay for it.’

  ‘You get to have your cock and eat it,’ Chardonnay giggled.

  ‘More than one tonight I hope,’ I sighed as I wondered what Logan had come up with to fulfil my brief.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re going for all out filthy for the night.’

  ‘I can’t believe you’re still with Mr. Stamina on the field but not in the sack,’ I retorted.

  ‘He’s not that bad,’ she protested.

  ‘Please, that time I had a threesome with you both, he came faster than you did the first time I went down on you, and you’d have probably set a world record for squirting.’

  ‘We shou
ld do that again. I really liked that.’

  ‘Well right now I have Logan to do. Maybe if I’m still feeling horny tomorrow I’ll come over. A bit of girl girl may take my mind off how much I’ll miss Logan again when he’s gone.’

  ‘O do babe, fingering myself has never felt the same since your tongue. And it would be so much better without our husbands and their tiny cocks getting in the way.’

  ‘You’re right, it would,’ I smiled down the phone. ‘See you, Char.’

  ‘See you, Yas. Say hi to the man for me.’

  ‘Will do.’ I hung up before she had another chance to distract me. Much as Chardonnay’s fat succulent pussy had enthralled me, and with how good a woman going down on me could feel, Logan was in a complete league of his own. And tonight I was in the mood for some decent cock. Or two, or three, or … I shivered in delight at the thought he may have even organised four.

  I oiled my toned and beautifully spray tanned body up, and gave my silicone 36-E breasts a squeeze, one of the many perks of being with a man with money. I’d had my lines filled with Botox in preparation for tonight, along with a little lip filler. Even at thirty-two, I still looked damn good for my age and I planned on keeping on top of that. I’d had my hairdresser over earlier to put a temporary brunette dye on, to disguise my bleached blonde locks. Even though I’d instructed Logan that we had to be discrete with whatever he had planned, I wasn’t taking the chance of someone recognising me. I slipped in some natural brown contact lenses, to disguise my light green eyes and applied my usual fake lashes and lip liner to plump up my lips even more. I smiled at myself in the mirror, I doubted even Eoin or my own mother would recognise me. I checked my long acrylic French tipped square nails, set with jewels, which I’d had the therapist come and do freshly for me this morning, along with a new red vajazzle saying “Hungry” which I thought Logan may appreciate. I looked around as there was a knock on the door.