What a whirlwind things have been lately! From parties during the holidays through recovering from them afterwards, I briefly thought that getting an office job might provide a relaxing break. Luckily, that bout of insanity didn't last and I dove back into my freelance graphic design work by day and my more interesting profession at night.
The rush of the holiday season began for me in early December, when out of the blue, I lifted the phone to hear a familiar voice with a strong American southern drawl. 'Darlin'! Guess who''
'Ben!' I squealed. 'I haven't heard from you in forever! How did you find me''
'Well, I'm heading over to London and I thought I could use a date for some big shindig with the European office. I checked the Cherry Girls escort listing and who did I find but my favourite gal from DC' Think you could pull out a party dress and go with me' Nothing too stuffy; let's show off a little.'
I was glad that I could rearrange my schedule for him. Ben was my idea of a Southern gentleman: big, brash, and tough but full of charm, solid modern values, and good sense. His family had owned textile factories for years and he now had an additional role as an industry spokesman. A lifelong bachelor, he was refreshingly unafraid of scandal and even took me to the Georgia Ball at the last inauguration' and back to his suite for our own celebration afterward.
Ben insisted on picking me up at my flat. I had on a dress in his favourite colour; it was a deep red, salsa-inspired style with a conservative halter front and a very low back, revealing the sleek lines I strove to keep through dance and yoga. My hair was pinned up with a few tendrils loose to brush the soft skin of my shoulders like fingertips. Even in three-inch heels I felt tiny next to tall, solid Chuck, who had the build of an American football player and defined the term 'beefcake'. His blonde hair was cropped short and he had suntanned laugh lines near his eyes, which scanned from my toes to the top of my head when I opened the door. He swept me into his arms and planted a kiss on my forehead. 'Whew! It's good to see that a rose can bloom in this cold, wet weather!'
I sat on Ben's lap and we caught up as his driver took us to the party. He briefed me about the event we'd be going to ' an excuse to wine and dine some important business contacts under the thin disguise of a holiday celebration. 'Charm the pants off them for me, honey; I know you can,' he said with a smile.
'I'll charm them, but the only pants I care about getting off tonight are these,' I teased, sliding my hand to his crotch.
The party was surprisingly fun; the attendees were mostly male and since many of them had travelled for the event, there were few wives or girlfriends on hand. I recognized another escort and we exchanged conspiratorial smiles. Ben and I worked the room like dancers, sometimes together and sometimes apart, striving to make a pleasant, memorable impression on everyone we met. I watched him from a distance ' a confident, friendly giant who was careful not to overwhelm the more delicate of his colleagues, yet exchanged firm handshakes and shoulder punches with the tougher ones. He was the sort of guy that other men want to be like and I knew he had their appreciation when they saw me pressed against his side, as well.
A couple of Ben's colleagues chatted me up, fetching drinks for me when he was busy and asking what a Yankee girl was doing in London. I handed out my graphic design business cards and then turned the conversation back to them: their hobbies, their interests, and how their work intersected Ben's. Every now and then Ben would catch my eye, smile and wink.
Dinner was adequate ' is it ever exceptional at business events' ' and was followed by awards and speeches, so I was pleased when the evening began to wind down. Ben kept his hand pressed to my bare back as he steered me through the room saying our farewells, then he helped me into my coat and we went into the cold night.
The party had gone later than expected and Ben had an early flight, so we reluctantly agreed that I wouldn't stay over. 'Could you spare some time to drive around and see the lights'' I asked. 'London is lovely at night in the Christmas season,'
He agreed, so I leaned forward and asked the driver to circle through some of the more picturesque areas. I extended one long, stocking-clad leg and swung it over Ben's lap, turning my body in a smooth movement so I was straddling him. 'Now you're all mine!' I whispered. I wrapped my arms around his neck and lowered my full lips to his.
We kissed gently at first, then with growing urgency. Ben slid his hands under my open coat, stroking my sleek back and running his hands down to grasp my rear and pull me firmly onto his body. Even through his trousers, I could feel his easily feel his growing hardness between my legs. Damn, he was sexy! I rocked my hips and rubbed myself against him, gasping in pleasure.
'Oh my, Ben! We seem to have something developing here,' I teased, grinding harder. 'May I take a look''
He groaned in assent and I slid back toward his knees, slowly unbuckling his belt with my nimble fingers, opening the button, sliding down the zipper, and finally slipping one hand inside his pants. 'Mmmm! Oh yes, I like that! I don't suppose you'd mind if I got a little closer, would you''
Ben smiled weakly. 'Darlin', if you didn't, I'd be awfully unhappy.'
I knelt on the seat beside him, took off my coat, and bent forward to tease him with my mouth. Ben moaned. His fingers found their way under my dress and inside my damp panties. He stroked me, driving me crazy with his fingertips as I strove to the same to him with my soft tongue and insistent lips.
I noticed the driver glancing in the rear view mirror, watching us. Knowing that we had an audience and the whole of London was just outside the windows made me even hotter. I took Ben deep into my mouth. His breathing increased until he gave a shuddering exhalation, holding me tightly.
Smoothing my dress back into place, I sat down with a Cheshire Cat grin. Mmm, there's nothing like a wicked little romp in an unexpected location to make my heart ' and other parts ' flutter.
Ben's face glistened as he neatened his attire. 'Is it hot in here or is it just you'' I rolled my eyes at his bad line and he chuckled. 'Damn, I need to find excuses to come back to London more often. There just aren't enough gorgeous women who can wow my business partners and then make me see fireworks.'
I giggled. Ben put my coat around my shoulders and I snuggled against him. We rode in cosy contentment and I pointed out the sights we passed. When we got to my flat, Ben walked me to the door and promised to call the next time he crossed the pond. I practically waltzed to the bedroom, dropping clothes along the way and diving right under the covers for a night of sweet dreams.
A couple of weeks after that, I went out for a first date with a new man. He was nervous on the phone, asking for reassurance that the picture on the Cherry Girls website was really me (yes) and that I would dress demurely in public (as he wished). Simon confessed that he had never hired an escort before. I was glad that he told me and I took some time to talk with him, answer his questions, and be sure he was comfortable. I didn't want the poor fellow thinking of our upcoming date with anxiety; I wanted him to feel a spark of excitement whenever he went back to the computer to take another glance at my photo.
We met at Cargo, a rather casual setting with good food and great music. Simon was lingering awkwardly near the entrance and rushed forward to greet me as I stepped out of a cab. He had a friendly smile and a mop of dishevelled hair. The eyes behind his stylish rectangular specs were so dark that they glittered in the street light like onyx. I already knew that he was twenty-eight, but he looked younger. All in all, he looked like the cute boy down the block that I would have had a crush on when I still wore my hair in pigtails.
Simon wore colourful layered shirts and nice trousers; neat and simple. I had dressed with subdued sensuality ' a glacier blue top that stretched tightly around my body above a flirty black skirt, with my favourite black pumps and a bright orange handbag for fun. Silver hoops pierced my tender earlobes and I had arranged my hair in long waves that moved gently when I walked. I could be any pretty, well-groomed girl in London, but tonight, I was Simon's girl.
We got a table at the caf� and ordered a few items to share. Tapas are great date food: they offer a variety of textures, smells, and tastes and you can eat some of them with your fingers. I've never understood women who pick at dry salad when they're out with men; as if they will seem skinnier if they appear to never let a morsel of fat through their pursed lips. I wonder what else uptight girls like that won't open their mouths for' Personally, I think a girl with a healthy appetite is far sexier ' after all, she has more incentive to work up a sweat later to burn off those calories!
We talked and ate and laughed. Simon had broken up with a long-term girlfriend a couple of months before and he wasn't ready to begin real dating again. Besides, he explained, he was the kind of fellow that women thought of as a pal rather than a bed mate. With a wry smile, he said that they probably thought he was gay, which he insisted he was not.
'Oh, I'll give you a chance to show me,' I assured him, 'and feel free to cite me as a reference.' I crossed my legs beneath the table so that my ankle brushed his calf and he twitched and blushed. He was so cute it was almost painful; I could see why women thought of him as a friend, but he also had a touch of the 'wounded soul' demeanour that could bring out the nurturing side of almost any girl. Even I wanted to pull him close and remind him what it was like to be desired.
'You're a very attractive woman. Why hasn't some lucky guy snatched you up yet'' His blush faded and he fixed his dark eyes on mine.
'Ah, you're assuming I want to be snatched. Perhaps some day, but not right now.' I speared a meatball and guided it to his mouth. 'No rush.'
Simon nodded as he chewed. 'It seems like fifty percent of the girls I meet are angry they aren't married already and the other half is angry if you even mention it. 'No rush.' I like that.'
We finished our leisurely meal and I licked the rim of my mojito glass, savouring the last drop of the sweet drink. Simon offered to buy me another and we went into the bar. The music and roar of other conversations was loud so we stood close together and talked into each other's ears. I swayed my hips, nudging him gently and reminding him of the near presence of my lithe body with every beat.
Before long, Simon leaned over to ask if I was ready to move on, and we wove through the pulsing crowd. Though he lived in London, he shared his place with a couple of friends and had splurged on an excellent room for the night. Threadneedles Hotel wasn't far. I thought the rum had worked its way through my system, but when I looked up into the dome above the lobby I felt a wave of vertigo. 'Whoa!' I laughed and grabbed onto Simon's arm for support and we walked, connected, to the lift.
When we got to his room, Simon hesitated. 'I'd really like you to stay the night, but only if you want to.' He sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at me.
I nearly blurted out the fact that I never do anything I don't want to do before I realized that wasn't what Simon needed to hear. He understood that; he wanted to know that I was into him. And oh, I was! I paused a moment, then I put my handbag on a nearby table. I pulled the warm wrap from my shoulders and draped it over the back of a chair. I moved slowly and without a sound, allowing the question to hang in the air, letting the tension build. My movements said that I was staying, but my silence suggested that more of an answer was coming.
I sank into the chair facing Simon, crossed my legs and allowed my skirt to slide up, revealing glimpses of lingerie beneath. A small smile curved his lips as his eyes darted up my leg and then back to my face. I love suave men, the guys who are always in control and seem to be one step ahead, but the slightly awkward ones ' as long as they're not too inhibited ' are charming as well. You don't have to be James Bond (the Sean Connery era) to be with me. 'Simon'' I began, with a hint of flirtatious inquiry. 'Do you suppose you have room on that bed for me' You see, I really enjoyed your company tonight and there's no place I'd rather be than on top of that bed, under you.'
He blushed and said he could certainly find some space, if I didn't mind doubling up. I stood. 'Great! Do you suppose you could help me get out of these troublesome clothes, then' It might be too warm if we're both dressed and rubbing our sweaty bodies together.' I walked over, placing one hand against the wall for balance, and slowly raised my right foot, dragging it up his calf and to his knee, where I stopped. 'Could you unbuckle that for me, please''
Simon moved his fingers up the top of my foot, but before opening the strap, he continued up my leg and pushed my skirt even higher, giving himself a view all the way to the hip. 'There, that's better.' He unbuckled my shoe and I stepped out of it as he gestured for me to present the other one. I did. After the left shoe, I suggested that he help with my suspenders and I stood in front of him, lifting my skirt to the waist so he could see the pink suspenders grasping the top of my nude stockings. Of course, he could also see the sheer thong that covered me with nothing but a triangle of strategically positioned embroidered flowers. His sharp intake of breath sent a twinge of desire through my body.
He slid the front of my stockings loose from the suspenders. I turned around, parted my legs slightly, and gracefully bent forward until my hands were on the floor. Simon raised my skirt and ran his hands over the rounded globes I presented, kneading the fleshier parts and then gently stroking the more sensitive areas. He unhooked my stockings and began to slide one down; the feel of his fingers on my firm thighs made me moan quietly, a sound that intensified when I felt his mouth tracing the contours first explored by his hands. He pulled off my stockings and my thong, and I spread my legs further to allow him the access we both craved.
Many long minutes later, he sat back and I stood up. I pulled my shirt over my head as I turned around, then unhooked my brassiere and dropped it to the floor beside the rest of my discarded clothing. I stretched my arms above my head. 'Ta da!'
'You look incredible,' Simon said quietly. I moved closer and he reached up to my breasts, cupping them and strumming the hard nipples with his thumbs. I tugged on his collar and he paused long enough to let me pull his shirts off, then he removed his shoes, socks and trousers faster than I've ever seen a man strip. He lay back on the bed, put his eyeglasses on the nightstand, pulled me on top of him, and kissed me with building passion.
My hand slipped between us and, feeling his arousal, I snaked my body down slowly, running him along every inch of my tight abdomen, squeezing him between my breasts, and finally teasing him with quick flicks of my tongue. His sounds and movements told me I was on the right track. I slid lower and started at his ankles, allowing the anticipation to build. I tried to keep him guessing, sometimes using just the soft ends of my hair as a brush on his skin, sometimes massaging him deeply, and sometimes using my nipples, fingertips, or tongue to pinpoint an area. Simon had a nice body and I enjoyed adoring it, knowing that he was exercising every ounce of his self-control to lay there as his excitement obviously increased. His control couldn't last when I zeroed in with my mouth, and he called out loudly, his hands in my hair and his hips bucking.
We rested beside each other on the bed. Simon turned toward me and his fingers played with my body ' caressing my lips, pinching my nipples, and then winding their way through the short, soft patch of hair and between my legs. 'You must let me return that favour,' he whispered.
'If you insist.' My breathing increased as his fingertips found their mark and then deepened as he replaced them with his tongue. My eyes closed and I pulled my legs up and back, holding each ankle lightly. Wow. He made me lose track of time and forget where I was or who I was, and pressed rhythmically against him with sobbing noises of ecstasy.
Simon knelt and held my legs in position, then slid inside. Oh yes! We moved from one position to another, our naked bodies finding ways to fit and move together that required the use of the furniture, walls, and floor. My legs still felt as weak as noodles when we woke in the morning.