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I’d read all the stories either before they were published, in the case of Angel, Jewel and Silvie and after the fact in the case of Fleur and little Fiona. I’d read the last two partly out of interest and partly curiosity and concern. I like to think that I care about my girls and that I’m protective towards them. They are all young and sometimes over-eager and innocent and I didn’t want them to come to any harm. I was especially so after I read Fiona’s chapter.
I called her into my office as soon as I’d read it to have a long talk to her. As had become traditional I sat her on my lap, with an arm round her. Despite being 22 she was very petite and looked several years younger and I had worried at the time if that might attract the wrong sort of client. As it turned out she became very popular with a set of ladies with very different requirements. She told me in no uncertain terms that her first night had been one of the best nights ever and was a bit shocked that I was so concerned. She’d loved every minute of it and was anxious that the client asked for her again soon. Indeed, she was hoping that others would soon join the client list. I felt a weight lifted off me as she was genuinely sincere in how she felt.
Over the next few days, during idle times, I re-read the stories one by one. The client list was slowly growing, almost organically, without the need to advertise it which was ideal. I was happy for existing clients to pass on the news about the new service which was on offer. More and more enquiring phone calls came in, but I was as careful with interviewing the clients as I was with the girls, but they were a self-selecting group and existing clients were careful only to recommend friends that they trusted. This all got me to thinking. All the stories, apart from my own of course, had been written by the girls. What was missing was one from the point of view of the client.
I hummed and hawed for a long time trying to decide who to ask. Although an obvious first choice was Marjorie, she wasn’t really typical. We’d known each other well before I started the Agency. She still helped me out sometimes with the interview process and was happy to fork out good money to do so but, of course, I never charged her the introduction fee although she always made sure the girl of the evening was well rewarded. Another possible was a woman called Annabel who I did a deal with. She was a professional photographer and I hired her to take portraits of each of the girls in exchange for a free introduction to one of them. She was delighted with the deal and even came back a couple more times to savour different delights. But, again, she wasn’t a typical fee-paying client. I asked a couple of others and they declined and then I found one who was returning for a second bite of the cherry.
She was in her early forties and always very well turned out. I’m not exactly sure what she does for a living, but I believe she’s some sort of corporate trouble-shooter. The sort of person you send in to shake things up with a firm that isn’t performing. She had both beauty and a good business brain, a lethal combination as a negotiating tool and was obviously good at her job. She confessed to me when I first mentioned my idea that she had secret ambitions when it came to writing. She’d published a slim volume of short stories under a pseudonym that had been well received. She gladly accepted my challenge on the condition that it came out under her pseudonym, a condition I was happy to accept. So, here is her story.
The Client’s story. Miss Monroe.
Why Mrs.B, as everyone knows her, asked me to do this I have no idea. I hadn’t even heard that some of the girl’s stories were on the internet. I looked them up and read them with interest and, although they’d changed their names, I thought I could recognise a couple of them. It was interesting to find out how the Agency, as we all call it, got started. I’d found out about it via a friend of mine and, after some initial trepidation, I was very glad that I did.
I don’t live in the town, but my work means that I have to visit quite regularly. After a day of stress trying to negotiate with intransigent and stubborn people, I was always grateful to relax and treat myself to a good dinner before going back to my lonely hotel room. One thing about that town was its supply of top-quality restaurants but there was always something missing. I wasn’t in town to make friends. In fact, most of the time I was dealing with people who were opposed to my being there. The consequence was that I always ended up dining alone with only an empty chair opposite me for company.
I happened to mention it to a colleague and old friend one day and her face brightened into a smile immediately. What I needed, according to her, was a companion for the evening and she knew just where I could find one and put me in touch with the Agency. I’d never even thought of using a professional escort before and baulked at the bayrampaşa escort idea, but she was so enthusiastic that she persuaded me to give them a try. I phoned up and this rather stern-voiced woman asked me to come in so that we could discuss it.
It felt a little seedy as I walked up the narrow alley and the tatty door with the peeling paint didn’t help the image. When I pressed the buzzer on the intercom it was even more drab inside. Things have changed a lot since then and I think it might have been my comments that made her smarten the place up. First impressions are absolutely important.
The owner of the stern voice on the phone proved to be a woman about the same age as me, maybe a little older, who greeted me warmly. She seemed to be running things all on her own. I was guided into an inner office and directed to a deep and comfy armchair while she sat on a sofa opposite me. She gave me a bit of an interrogation that first time and I have since worked out why. She needed to be cautious about who she took on as clients as discretion was vital. After some time, she seemed satisfied that I wasn’t some mad female serial killer or, worse still, a journalist or from the authorities. She relaxed, and we started to talk about what I was looking for as a dinner companion.
With the aid of some very amateurish snaps that she had loaded onto a tablet we narrowed down my choices. The much smarter portfolio of professional portraits had yet to be commissioned. It was still very early days. The fee she was charging took me back a bit, but she started to explain what she was offering. She would introduce me to a young girl and then it was up to me to negotiate anything extra after that although she did make suggestions as to suitable ‘donations’ I could make to the girl’s future. The girl she’d suggested was very pretty and just my type. If asked I could pass her off as my daughter as she was also blonde and had a vaguely similar face. I’d had a hard day so in the end I thought, what the hell, let’s go for it.
The girl I selected, with helpful suggestions from Mrs.B, was called Miranda. She was 25 which is slightly older than most of the girls on offer, but I was assured that I’d be in safe hands. I found out later that she was Mrs.B’s go-to girl for first time clients. After we’d sorted out her introduction fee we sat and chatted about trivial things for a while. I got the impression that she enjoyed what she was doing and was sincere about her aims. From a business point of view, I admired that. I did mention her image and she readily agreed with me that the place needed a facelift. By the time of my second visit things had changed dramatically into what you would see today.
I finally said goodbye and went back to my hotel to shower and change. I also phoned the restaurant that was already booked to tell them that there would be a plus one with me. As expected, that proved to be no problem as I already had a table for two booked. I hadn’t brought anything special in my overnight bag as I wasn’t expecting company in the evening, so I had to settle for my slightly conservative, standard black evening dress that I took everywhere. I arrived at the restaurant early so that Miranda, when she arrived, would not feel out of place.
I’d used this place several times before because, although it was expensive, the food was spectacular. It also had one of the cutest and sexiest servers I’d ever come across. Her name was Monique and I’d been flirting outrageously with her on every visit. She seemed to enjoy the attention which only made me try even harder. Tonight was no exception, and she made no objection when I ‘accidentally’ brushed my hand against her. When she brought me my drink, I was sure another button of her white blouse had come undone and she leaned over a little too much when she served my drink. I couldn’t help looking down the front of her blouse and could clearly see that she wasn’t wearing a bra and she was proudly showing off the obvious swellings of her small breasts. I was beginning to regret splashing out all that money for a companion when Miranda arrived.
She was even prettier than her photo. She didn’t seem fazed by the reputation of the restaurant, in fact she seemed to be known to the staff. I guessed I wasn’t the first client that she’d met here. She certainly knew Monique as they chatted like old friends as she was guided to my table. I stood up and greeted her with a formal kiss on each cheek. Monique moved her chair from the far side to seat her next to me. This seemed to be standard practice and I was a little embarrassed to think that all the staff seemed to know what was going on.
Miranda was dressed very simply in a smart but quite revealing dark cream dress. It was just on the verge of being too short and showed off her legs to great effect. The front was designed to display her cleavage and it succeeded in doing so. I found it was difficult to take beykoz escort my eyes off her. The meal was delicious as it always was, and Miranda was easy to talk to just as I had hoped. She was quite touchy-feely and several times I felt her hand on my thigh as if to emphasise a point she was making. After the initial shock her light touches started to relax me, and I began to copy her. She made no move to shy away instead appearing to get closer each time. My hand always went to the same place but slowly the hem of her dress rode up until I was landing on bare skin.
By the time dessert arrived I was becoming aroused and I could feel my pussy juices beginning to leak out. I tried to sit still and concentrate on the food, but her hand was still a frequent visitor and was going slightly higher each time. Things weren’t helped by the fact that she was only using one hand to eat her dessert. The other could concentrate on me. She kept it there when Monique returned to bring the bill and started stroking me through my panties while I tried to use the card machine. All the time Monique kept glancing at Miranda and grinning at her. Before she went to walk away, she bent her head towards me.
“She’s very pretty, isn’t she, Miss?” she said in a stage whisper loud enough for Miranda to hear, “I’m sure you’ll have a great evening.”
“A pity you’re not going to be there, Mon,” said Miranda, interrupting my momentary fantasy.
She then turned to me and, as the pressure of her fingers increased, she smiled cutely and pleaded, “Can she join us, Miss, that would be so much fun?”
I felt as if I’d been ambushed by the two of them, the victim of a conspiracy. They both looked at me eagerly. By now Miranda’s finger had found their way inside my panties and were working their magic. How could I say no? I fact I found speaking difficult, so I just nodded to each in turn and they each grinned with excitement.
“I finish in half an hour,” Monique told me, “are you at your usual hotel?”
“Room 46,” I managed to mumble.
Monique left us, looking back over her shoulder and winking at Miranda as she did so. I stood up and began to leave. Miranda stopped me with a hand on my arm.
“I’ll walk close behind you as we leave, Miss,” she murmured in my ear, “that will shield you.”
I was initially puzzled until I realised that I’d leaked so much that I’d made a damp stain on the back of my dress. Miranda must have seen it when I stood up and had stepped in with her clever rescue plan. Out on the street there were few people, the office and shop workers had left long before, and the evening crowd were still dining or having quiet drinks somewhere. As it was a weekday there were none of the drunken revellers that so often plagued our streets these days. Miranda came beside me and we walked arm in arm back to the hotel. I hoped my indiscretion wasn’t too visible. I could have worn a coat but that would have appeared even more out of place in the heat left over from the stifling and humid day just gone.
At the hotel I was greeted with a raised eyebrow when I came in with a friend, and one much younger than me. Let them think what they like, I thought and was curt with the girl at reception when I asked for my key. I shepherded Miranda into the lift and was glad when the doors slid shut and I was away from their disapproving eyes. As the lift rose Miranda turned and grabbed me and kissed me hard on the mouth. It took me by surprise, but pleasantly so, and I responded. When the lift stopped at the fourth floor and the doors swished open, she took my hand and pulled me, giggling, into the corridor. I let her pull me to my door where she stood aside while I unlocked. Once the door was closed, she pounced on me once more.
This time I was more prepared, and our lips met with a passion I’d almost forgotten I had. I could still scarcely believe this was happening. I had taken a paid escort back to my hotel room! I was suddenly determined not to waste the opportunity. I’m certainly sure that Miranda knew what was expected of her. I pulled her further into the room. It was dominated by the large bed. It cost extra but it was something I always treated myself to. It was always on expenses anyway and the company never quibbled about it. I just love to spread out. Up to now it had been my lonely haven and one which I had enjoyed alone. Tonight, I would have company.
I let go of her hand and sat on the end of the bed. I looked back at her and, for the first time, she looked nervous. Whether this was genuine or a look she had practised before I don’t know and I didn’t really care, I just found it endearing. I felt it was down to me, as the paying client, to take the lead.
“That’s a very pretty dress,” I told her, “but I’m interested in what is underneath.”
She took the hint straight away and smiled. She reached behind her and I heard the long slow rasp of the zip being pulled down. As she beylikdüzü escort shucked off the wide shoulder straps, she revealed the secret of her cleavage. She was wearing a very pretty black and red push-up bra that cradled rather than hid her breasts. Its design was such that her nipples peeked over the top. They were already hard and pointing straight at me. The dress slipped down and she stepped out of it and carelessly tossed it to one side and then stood back upright and displayed herself to me.
To say I approved would be an understatement, I was overjoyed. Mrs.B certainly knew how to select her girls and her advice on the choice she helped me make had been spot on. I shifted my gaze from the twin beacons of her nipples to the tiny matching thong. It was clear that she was as aroused as I was. As I noticed this, I involuntarily pressed my hand into my own dress between my legs, trying to calm my excited pussy. She watched me and grinned.
“You’re going to ruin that dress at this rate, Miss,” she said as she came over to me.
Without asking she pulled the hem free from underneath me and lifted it up. Under her spell I lifted my arms and she pulled it over my head. I was glad I’d put on my best underwear before going out. Mine was plain black and the strapless bra covered much more than hers and the panties were lacy and more discrete. Neither of us was particularly well-endowed but I think we’d both chosen bras that did us proud.
As soon as my dress had been taken and thrown behind me out of the way she swivelled round and sat on my lap with her arm round me. Our lips met again, this time with the added excitement of feeling skin touching skin. I reached behind her and fumbled amateurishly with the clasp of her bra. In the end she took over and unclipped it for me. Her breasts were small and neat and delightfully soft to the touch and her hard nipples rasped against the palm of my hand as I cupped them. We went back to our kiss as I gently squeezed and massaged her breast and took her nipple and rolled it between finger and thumb. I heard a tiny moan escape from her. I was about to bend down and explore them with my mouth when there was a quiet knock on the door.
Before I could stop her Miranda leapt to her feet. Her pretty boobs jiggled as she ran to the door and opened it. I just hoped it wasn’t a member of the hotel staff but a shriek of delight from Miranda told me it wasn’t. She came back dragging a grinning Monique with her. She left her standing as she skipped back to me and resumed her place on my lap. She could hardly contain her excitement.
“This is going to be so much fun,” she announced.
“You two have started before me. It looks as though I have some catching up to do,” said Monique and she was already unbuttoning her white blouse. She’d come straight from the restaurant and hadn’t bothered to change. It was no surprise when her breasts sprang free. I already knew from glimpses I’d seen earlier that she wasn’t wearing a bra.
“We’ll have to start a little-titted woman’s group,” giggle Miranda as she clutched at mine.
“I like mine,” said Monique, pushing them forward, a hand under each, displaying herself to us.
“I think you both have lovely tits,” I reassured them, “they’re gorgeous.”
As emphasis I gave Miranda’s a gentle squeeze and she made that same girlish giggle that I’d come to enjoy. Meanwhile, Monique was busy ridding herself of her skirt. Underneath her thong was, if anything, even tinier than Miranda’s. It had also buried itself in her pussy and her lips were pushed out on either side. She looked down and yelped, “oops,” and tried to adjust it.
“Let me do it,” said Miranda, holding out her hand to invite her over.
Monique joined in the game and walked over to us and thrust her hips forward. Instead of pulling the offending thong free, Miranda took hold and pulled it even tighter. She then pulled and relaxed it alternately, stimulating Monique’s clit and making her go weak at the knees.
Not wanting to be left out my hand found its way inside Miranda’s thong and was greeted with a slickness that covered my fingers. By now Monique’s thong had been pulled down and out of the way and she was being freely fingered. I heard the familiar squishing sounds as Miranda’s first two fingers disappeared inside Monique and I joined in by doing the same to Miranda. Their guttural noises grew louder as we entered into an unspoken competition to see who could make who come first. Miranda won by a millisecond. Monique gave a last, almost despairing, cry before she collapsed to the floor. A moment later Miranda stiffened and arched her back. With a yelp she collapsed backwards, and I managed to guide her to lie on the bed and not fall to the floor.
Both girls were panting heavily. Monique was curled into a ball at my feet, her thong still round her knees and Miranda lay spread-eagled on the bed beside me. Both of them shone with perspiration and their pussies and thighs gleamed and glistened with their cum. I couldn’t help but smile.
But what about me? I was determined that the two girls owed it to me to offer more. I stood up and stripped off my panties. I climbed onto the bed and straddled Miranda’s face looking down at her.
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