Chapter 3

There was no point in pretending anymore, Robert's studies were going to hell in a hand basket. There was also, no point in pretending that he wasn't enjoying himself. But, and it was proving to be a big but, he was having doubts about the women he met through his adverts.

His initial advert in the shop window had been superseded with a flashier, more colourful card. It brought a few enquiries, but was proving to be the weaker point of sale. He had taken out a small space in the local free newspaper contact column which had started to pay off. But, the problem was, well the women who called him were not Elizabeth and definitely not in her class.

He thought long and hard about his future. It was obvious that his need for money, plus the enjoyment of his extra-curricular activities, was having a detrimental effect on studying Music. Most of the time, he was far too tired to concentrate for more than a few minutes before falling asleep. So it was perhaps, time to consider whether he wanted to continue as a student and give up the profession, or chose the latter as a career move and possibly pick up the studies later. The thing that bothered him though, was the standard of the majority of his clients and that was mostly because of his adverts and their placing he realised.

Then, while answering a call from a new client, it dawned on him that he should join an agency. Let them find the bookings, pay them a small fee and have access to a much better class of client. It wasn't that he was being snobbish, just that his libido had limits and for him to produce the goods, he had to at least like the look of the woman. Having them vetted by an agency, seemed like the way to go.

He joined 'Private Encounters', an agency that boasted a central London address and promised endless clients. His resume was accepted and a short interview in a cheap hotel off of The Edgware Road found him being punted around the contact magazines and website they had. Robert removed his own adverts and waited for the phone to ring. It didn't take long.

Amber, his contact with the agency, had booked him with a bubbly blonde called Suzanne who was looking for a date for the night to go nightclubbing. He was to meet her at her hotel at eleven that night. Was to be wearing a suit and tie and be prepared for a long evening.

Suzanne answered his knock, opening the door to her room with a smile and a welcome in.

"Just finishing up." She said over her shoulder as she headed for the bedroom. "Won't be a moment, make yourself comfortable." Her accent hinted at California.

Her perfume left a heavy trail behind her. Her dress, gauzy and multi-coloured, flowed long, to mid calf, but seemed to accentuate her figure. She was as tall as he, in her metallic grey sandals. Her hair flowed to shoulder blade length in blonde tresses of luxuriant thickness. Robert thought that she might look fantastic naked, at least from the rear view he had. She also had a perma-tan, typical of American women.

During the ride to Soho, he found out that she did in fact come from California and was over here for a month, 'doing Europe'. So far she had spent three days in Paris and two in Amsterdam. Neither had inspired her too much.

He listened as she prattled on, not really concentrating on her words, but intently on her mouth. He realised she had perfect teeth. Each was perfectly aligned, beautifully white and completely even and so obviously the product of an orthodontist. Her lips, on the full side, were quite wide, wider than the European average perhaps and very inviting. Her mouth was expressive and spoke more in the secret language of the body than her words did. Her eyes that danced, never resting in any one place for more than a split second, were grey/blue with a dark outer ring to her iris.

"Have I got herpes or something?" The stream of words had stopped for a moment, only to continue with her sudden question.

"What? Oh, I'm sorry. I was just watching your mouth. You have an incredible mouth." He felt more than a little stupid at the ineptness of his comment, but hoped it covered his switching off.

"My friends call me motor mouth, you know, revved up all the time?" He liked her accent. In fact, there wasn't much he didn't like about her. He also liked that she let him off the hook so easily.

They ate at the Trocadero and then moved onto the night clubs, staying only long enough in each, to grab a drink and then, move on to the next. Very similar to her eyes, Suzanne seemed unable to settle at all.

Eventually, after what seemed like every nightclub in London, they ended up at Ministry of Sound in Vauxhall at two o'clock in the morning.

"Didn't Boy George used to be a DJ here?" She yelled in his ear, only just getting over the club thump of "Dance Anthem" that seemed to exude from the very walls.

He didn't try to yell back, just nodded a yes. Somehow, they managed to get the bar to come up with two Coronas without glasses and a wedge of lime shoved down the neck of the bottle.

And then Suzanne danced, spinning away from him, her bottle describing arcs as she twisted and spun on the floor. Her choice of dress was now obviously deliberate. The lightweight fabric spun out as she twisted, giving the observer a less than subtle view of her tanned thighs. Robert joined her on the dance floor, holding his beer in one hand and her slim waist in the other. Through the next few dance anthems, they clung to each other and gyrated in a simulation of coupling that drew more than one or two admiring glances.

"Let's go." She whispered closely into his ear.

Robert hailed a taxi which took them along the Embankment of the Thames toward her hotel in Knightsbridge.

"I know it's extra..." She whispered. " ... but I feel really fucking horny and ... well ... it's been a while, since I had a man screw me." She delivered a beatific smile as she waited for his response.

Before he had time to think, the joke was out of his mouth.

"What. Do you bat for the other side then?" He wished he had bitten off the words a millisecond later. Lame did not cover it.

Shock at his directness registered in her eyes before she recovered and answered.

"Well yes, generally I don't involve a man in my love life..." Her eyes glittered in the reflected lighting of the shops they passed. It made him think of a she devil for some reason. " ... but I occasionally allow one into my bed..." Her grin was quiet wicked and her deliberate pause caught him. He didn't know if she was being serious or not. " ... You seem okay, you will do for now."

He knew she was making fun now and feigned punching her on the shoulder. Her laugh was instantaneous and completely at ease.

Clothing was thrown in any direction in the haste to get naked and into each other when they arrived at her hotel door. Somehow, while undressing each other and maintaining a contact of lips, they managed to get to the bedroom and fall onto the queen sized bed in a heap.

Robert took charge, pushing her down onto her back while his fingers sought her sex and his mouth sucked her nipple into his mouth. She tasted great and the perfume of her skin was intoxicating.

Suzanne wasn't the type to be submissive though. She had ideas of her own and soon had his cock in her wide mouth while she massaged his balls. She sucked greedily, downing most of his length, covering him in her saliva.

Naked, Suzanne was every bit as beautiful as he had thought she would be when he first saw her. His anticipation had been rewarded, but what he hadn't been expecting, was her athleticism. She could ride him as if on a bucking bronco, but without falling off.

Once she had satisfied her hunger for cock head in her throat, she pushed Robert back and straddled him, grasped his dick and sat on it as if he were a Sybian vibrator and there she stayed, writhing and rubbing herself against him, getting her self off and paying no attention to him.

Under no illusions that he was, in his role, little more than his customer's temporary plaything, Robert was mostly okay with that. But, this was an out an out use of his body for her pleasure and hers alone. It was the first time that Robert felt used and he wasn't sure he liked that so much.

"Cmon big boy, fuck me will ya?" The fact that he was trapped beneath her seemed to have eluded her completely, but Robert managed to thrust up, bearing her weight momentarily. Her pelvic thrusts drove him back down, grinding him into the bed as her tempo increased. At last, she was getting there and hastened her climax with her fingers rubbing her clit as she gyrated on his cock.

She threw her head back, stretching her long neck, her throat exposed, sinews pronounced and sighed as she came, twitching in after shocks, bathed in sheen of perspiration from the exertion.

Robert hadn't cum, hadn't felt like he would have done any time soon. And, although she was quite beautiful with a fantastic shape and tits to die for, found he didn't like her enough to even want to try and complete. He didn't like her selfish taking of his body with not thought to his satisfaction. It was a first for him and left him feeling somewhat unsure of himself.

Suzanne, now that she had reached her goal, arose sinuously from him, breaking the contact of genitalia, leaving a slick residue over his groin and walked to the en-suite bathroom.

"My purse is on the dresser; take whatever the going rate is and shut the door behind you please." No goodbye or thank you, just a dismissal like rubbish after use.

Robert's feeling of being a human dildo deepened, she wasn't even going to allow him to clean himself up. As far as she was concerned, he had performed the function of her need and had no more interest in him. He retrieved his clothing, dressed and yelled through the bathroom door that she could keep her money. It was a small ego booster, very small, but made him feel better about himself.

The cheque for the evening arrived two days later with a note from the Agency that his client had called to say that his service was way above expectation and that the agency would be subject to recommendation back home. Amber was delighted that her new boy was such a success and added a hand written note of thanks.

Robert closed the note, screwed it up and tossed it, over hand, into the waste bin. The events of that night had given him cause to reflect yet again. Being an escort had its obvious merits. Getting to screw women on a regular basis was an obvious up-side. But the realisation that he was nothing more than a temporary thing, made him feel that his worth was somewhere on a par with a rampant rabbit.

Being listless was something new to Robert, but listless he was over the next couple of days. Suddenly, he missed his studies, missed the pressure of assignment deadlines. It was irrational, he knew, but the feeling of baselessness and lack of worth would not shift.

The agency called with his next appointment for the following Saturday night. Robert was less than enthusiastic, but accepted, rationalising that the money would be useful. Amber must have picked up on his lacklustre response to the appointment because she insisted that he meet her for lunch that day.

Amber turned out to be in her late forties, but had kept her looks and her appearance. Her make up, was subtly applied, accentuating the contours of her jaw line and cheeks. Eye shadow was muted, a blend of at least two colours and in perfect unity with a flesh-tone lipstick. She wore a simple 'A' line dress and a single string of pearls around her neck.

She ordered lunch for both of them, conferring with him over the choice and deciding on a warm salad with a glass of chardonnay to wash it down.

She talked over the food and the edge of her wine glass. Her eyes rarely left his as she told him about the origins of Private Encounters. How she had started it as an up-market client point of contact as she put it. Her days on the street had made her realise that she was better than the average hooker. It had been a struggle, coming from lowly origins, but was now a very successful business.