The Accidental Call Girl

by Portia Da Costa

  ‘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.’

  His finger circled, rocking trickily from side to side and, as John kissed her, his tongue in her mouth, just as Benjamin’s had been in his all those years ago, she hit the tipping point. Uncouth sounds issued from her, grunts of pleasure stifled by his possession of his lips, controlling her.

  Her vagina clenched hard, and she almost bit his tongue as her legs kicked out and her hips pumped. It was a rough, quick orgasm, almost too soon, but still heavenly. She clamped her hand over his, holding in the pleasure, and didn’t release it until the spasms started to ebb.

  12

  Come into the Garden

  ‘Do you want to hear the rest of the story?’

  Lizzie blinked, dropping back into herself after the flight of orgasm. Somehow, she was in John’s arms, her head cradled on his shoulder, but she wasn’t quite sure how that had come about. Had the pleasure been so intense she’d passed out?

  ‘Hell yes!’ She straightened up, smoothed down her skirt, feeling suddenly energetic, as if she’d been recharged by the grace of John’s hand.

  ‘Good, I’ll tell you it over coffee. We’re just at a stopping place I know.’ He gestured out of the window, just as the gliding car left the A-road they were travelling on, and pulled into the forecourt of what looked like an old-fashioned, ivy-clad roadhouse-come-café. Lizzie was astonished. She’d been so absorbed in herself, and John, and what he’d said and what they’d done, that she hadn’t even realised they’d left the motorway.

  ‘It looks nice. Much better than a services.’

  ‘It is nice,’ said John with a smile, smoothing his hair and plucking imaginary lint off his trousers. ‘The coffee’s second to none, and they do a lemon cake to die for, if you’re hungry?’ Lizzie noticed he was still slightly erect, but it didn’t seem to bother him. Maybe he liked to flaunt his junk in public? Who knew? He was a very strange man, as well as a very sexy one.

  Walking through the garden of the Bluebell Café, to one of the outside tables, she had a feeling she was almost more aware of John’s cock and its condition than he was. There were only a few other patrons there at this time of morning, but none of them seemed to notice anything untoward. A couple of elderly ladies fluttered and smiled when he wished them a ‘Good morning’ but she couldn’t blame them. It was as if the god of the sun had passed by them, between the tables, bestowing his gracious light upon them. Lizzie grinned to herself, wondering what might happen if they happened to glance southwards, but they seemed mostly enchanted by his handsome face and his dazzling smile.

  ‘So, your story,’ she prompted, when they were seated at a table right in the corner of the garden, furthest from anybody and with a view of fields sloping down to a river. The coffee was just as sublime as he’d claimed, and the cake, mmm, heavenly.

  John looked around. The nearest of the other patrons was yards away. ‘So, yes . . .’ He paused to eat a morsel of cake, licking the crumbs off the tips of his fingers. ‘I believe we’d got to the part when Benjamin grabbed my cock, hadn’t we?’

  ‘Yeah, and you said he was rough and you liked it.’

  ‘True. I was very keen on him, and keen on my dick being handled, although before that it’d been confined to my own efforts. Having another man’s hand on me was as scary as it was fabulous. At the time . . .’

  Some slight change in the timbre of his voice caught her attention, and she eyed him closely. Despite his previous avowals, she wanted to ask, and now, would it still be fabulous? He’d claimed not to be bisexual any more, but who knew? He could be spinning her lines just as much as she was spinning them to him.

  ‘He rubbed me for a while, and I probably did a lot of moaning and groaning. It was a wonder I didn’t come all over his fingers straight away, but, somehow, I managed to hang on. I grabbed his arse and he started humping against my leg. He was as hard as a stone inside his trousers.’ He flashed her a grin. ‘I’m surprised he didn’t come straight away too, but clearly he had powers of endurance, just like I had.’

  Lizzie took a sip of coffee, loving its aroma and the hard caffeine hit that sharpened her senses. She didn’t want to miss a syllable of John’s account.

  ‘What happened next?’

  ‘We kissed some more, and then he got his cock out, and we rubbed against each other. Lord, he was bloody enormous, thick as a club. And you wouldn’t have thought it, because he was skinny and slight, even though he was quite tall.’

  Lizzie tried to imagine this tall, dark and presumably handsome man caressing John. The golden angel and the saturnine devil, what a delicious contrast. She pictured herself in the woods with them – what was it about woods? – watching while they fondled each other. Touching herself while they touched one another. She shuffled on her seat, wanting to do that right now, and reached for her cake as a minor distraction from the ache between her legs.

  ‘I don’t think Benjamin had really thought through what we were going to do next . . . but I had. I’d seen him in the showers, and I knew what other guys were doing with each other. I’d decided I wanted him in me.’

  ‘Oh!’

  Pausing to sip his coffee, John eyed her. ‘Why so surprised?’

  Why indeed? Just because he was master of the universe with her, it didn’t mean he wasn’t sexually omnivorous, and prepared to play other roles.

  ‘Do you think because I act the dom with you I can’t understand and enjoy the flipside of the coin?’ He toyed with his teaspoon, as if it were a proxy for toying with her or with long ago Benjamin.

  Lizzie looked into his eyes. They were mild, yet somewhere, far back, there was a flare of darkness. What had happened to him? Something other than his dalliance with Benjamin . . . There was light and shade in his history, she could swear it. But she’d probably never know him long enough to learn his secrets.

  ‘No, I’m not surprised. I think that’s why you are so good a dominant, because you understand the submissive role too.’ She gave him a steady look. Should she dare? ‘I think that before you move on, Mr Smith, you should let me get the better of you. It might be quite diverting . . . and very sexy . . . to see you on your knees ready to take some of your own medicine.’

  John nodded. She could tell he was impressed. ‘I might take you up on that, beautiful Bettie. It wouldn’t be a hardship to submit to you. Not in the slightest.’

  ‘Good . . . very well . . . For the moment, I order you to go on with your story!’

  ‘Your wish is my command, gorgeous,’ he answered, rather more flippantly than was appropriate if he was supposed to be obeying her order, but she didn’t care. She was dying to hear more of him, and of his long-lost paramour Benjamin.

  John paused, sipped his coffee, then stared at her, his eyes alight. ‘I told him to take his clothes off. He seemed nervous about stripping, even with his dick on show, so I led by example. I thought he was going to come at just the idea of it, he was so excited, but he managed to get naked without losing it. He was gorgeous . . . as I’m sure he still is today . . . so tall and slender yet so massive where it matters.’

  Again, Lizzie tried to imagine this paragon, but somehow, all she could see was John, and his beautiful body. ‘Wh
at happened next?’

  ‘I told him what I wanted him to do to me. I gave him instructions. I think he was surprised, and he was expecting to be the one who was fucked.’ John’s voice was low, like velvet, but still Lizzie glanced around. Nobody seemed to be in the slightest bit interested in them. Even the admiring old ladies had gone now. ‘I told him to think of trigonometry while I put the condom on him, and then lubed him up. I always found that thinking of complex figures slowed me down a bit.’

  ‘So, have you been counting your billions while you’ve been shagging me?’

  He laughed. ‘I’m a lot older now. I have much more control. And don’t forget my fabulous biofeedback techniques . . . They’ve never helped much with my sleep issues but they’ve been brilliant for staying power in the sack.’

  ‘Tell me about it . . .’ Suddenly she wanted to ask about the sleep issues again, but now wasn’t the moment. No way.

  ‘Really. Anyway, we got down on the floor of the hut, and I was on my hands and knees, and I told him to lube me in return . . . but he was shaking too much. I had to manage it myself . . . The stuff went everywhere.’

  Oh God. The temptation to reach beneath the tablecloth and touch herself, as she’d done back at the Waverley, was almost unbearable. Wishing she knew biofeedback herself, she ate a bit more cake, barely tasting it.

  ‘Eventually, we were sorted, and I told him to push into me. He hesitated. He said he wasn’t sure he could do it. I had to get a bit sharp with him. Order him to do it.’

  Why didn’t that surprise her? John liked to be in charge, regardless of what he said, and even as such a young man, about to be buggered, he’d clearly still been calling the shots.

  ‘So, basically, you were topping him from the bottom. Always like a boss, eh?’

  He shrugged, still smiling at her. ‘Yes, I suppose so, and it must have worked, because he seemed to get his act together and he . . . managed to get his cock into me, somehow.’