Chapter 52

The pillows felt like soft marshmallows as Bridget sunk into them. Lying there, fighting hard not to fall asleep, she heard the faint tap on the bedroom door. The first client had arrived and Bridget's mind began to buzz. Was it a fat, sweaty man? Would he be rough with her? Would he want her to perform some strange contortionist act? She knew they were high-end clients but even the worst sadistic men could be described as the quiet boy next-door type.

The door opened and there stood her first client. Standing no more than five foot four tall, wearing a grey three-piece suit, two sizes too big that hung shapeless, he looked like a lost schoolboy. His blonde hair, styled with a quiff to the left, looked rigid and unnatural so much so that she thought it may have been a wig. His black leather shoes, shining like a mirror, left indents in the shag pile carpet as he walked towards the bed. Of slight build, he could not have weighed more than nine stone. Sitting down on the edge of the bed he hardly made an impression on the mattress, and confirmed how light he was. She did not recognise him as anybody famous or in the public eye but that didn't matter. What mattered was to get him in and out and his wallet lighter.

"Hello honey" she says in her softest and best posh voice.

Taking off his wedding ring, placing it on the bedside cabinet, he turns to face her.

"Good morning"

His voice, high pitched and quiet, seemed to fit his appearance. His essence, appeared to be, of a man that had been dominated his entire life, either by his wife or his boss. She could picture him in a stressful job and always shouted down to, so maybe this was his way of being in charge.

"Do you have anything specific in mind?" she enquires.

"I want you on your knees, bent down, with your head buried underneath the pillow"

As his voice had changed, becoming a little deeper and demanding, she knew she was right. He now had someone to control and he was in-charge. Taking off his jacket, his crisp white shirt and his trousers, he strolls over to the wardrobe like a king controlling his realm and takes a hanger. Hanging his clothes in the wardrobe, he turns back to the bed. His hands on his hips, as though waiting for approval, Bridget let out a cough to disguise her muffled laughter. Grinning at her, in his pressed y-fronts and socks, she gave him a tight-lipped smile.

Sliding next to her on the satin sheets, he reaches for the condom she had placed on the cabinet.

"I'll do that for you if you like," she says insistently

"Yes, yes, that's what I want you to do" replying as though it were his suggestion.

If she needed to share whatever it was she had, she would have to make sure it was executed properly. She hadn't a clue what it was but she knew a lot of sexually transmitted infections were passed via bodily fluid. She had to be certain that exchange took place while inside her and wearing a condom would make that virtually impossible.

Ripping the corner of the packet, she takes out the condom. As the client closes his eyes, she places it on the top of his now swollen member. Rolling her hand down his shaft makes the veins pulsate and he begins to twitch. Sliding her hand slowly and expertly back to the top, she pinches the tip to release any air. With one swift motion, using her filed thumbnail, she makes a slice through the tip of the condom.

Being a sick child and having to take an assortment of drugs, which left her infertile, she knew she would not fall pregnant but the split condom would now allow fluid contact to run freely between them.

His soft, well-manicured, hand slid up her thigh indicated, with a little pressure, it was time to turn over. Up on her knees, popping the press-studs on her body suit, she buries her head as instructed. The mattress dipped as he manoeuvred his way into position behind her. Her bum high in the air and her body suit open, displaying her in all her glory to a man whose name she didn't even know, was a strange sensation. Moving his head within inches of her, she could feel his breath on her lower back. His fingers, barely touching her skin, found the crease between her inner thigh and her triangle. She felt a tingling sensation rise between her legs as his smooth fingers ran over her even smoother opening. Like a doctor, making an examination, his hands moved in a circular motion around her bare cheeks pulling her apart then closing her again.

As he lent forward and she felt his full bloodied tip touch her, a thought shot through her mind. This would be the first time, she had knowingly, slept with somebody for money. She could not back out now even if she wanted to. Saim would never let her out but it did not stop the surge of regret sweeping over her. Doing this would take away her last ounce of pride that she had left and as he thrust into her, she could not suppress the groan that she expelled.

"Sorry, did I hurt you?" he asks, silently pleased.

What with that thing, the size of a child's crayon that you have, I don't think so is what she wanted to say but thought better of it.

"No it's fine honey" she replied

She was glad of the pillow her head was now buried under as it muffled her sniggers while the thought of the old saying sprung to mind. Did he have a huge car parked outside to compensate? BCSD. Big car small dick.

Already ten minutes in of the same rhythm, a slow waltz like tempo, he showed no sign of him finishing. She needed to speed things up. Moving her body into his made the speed double.

"Stop moving, just stay still" he demanded

The muscles in her back, now beginning to contract from staying in the same position, bent over and head down, screamed to her to do something. Contracting her pelvic muscle gripped him tighter and finally feeling something she knew it would speed things up.

A couple more thrusts and she could feel him throb inside her. His tempo changed from slow waltz to normal waltz. Not much difference but it was a sure sign he was nearly done.