Chapter 9

Fully clothed once more, and looking immaculate as always, Agi said,

‘So, just lounging about eh?’

It was obvious that just doing nothing, “chilling” as they say, was not quite her cup of tea. She flopped, languidly on to the sofa. I noticed that, rather annoyingly, Agi had hung her suit carrier from the handle of my glass display cabinet. My cabinet held my collection of beautiful Geisha girl figurines. I was quite proud of my collection and rather protective of the twenty-five colourful eight-inch figures.

They were all different with a range of colours, poses or musical instruments.

They were a decorative reminder of one of my bucket list fantasies. I have always wanted to fly to Japan and visit one of the “special places”, recommended in an LGBT travel guide I have. I’d hire my very own pretty Geisha, have the tea ceremony, then the full body, relaxing aromatic oil massage, followed by a dip in a warm scented pool. That would all be topped of with a slow, sensual fuck with my gorgeous Geisha girl. The graphic, carnal thoughts, now dominating my mind, sent a shiver of arousal running through me. I had never experienced this frequency or ease of arousal before, it was almost worrying.

As I turned towards Agi, lounging on the sofa, a completely unrelated thought popped in to my head. Agi’s phone. It hadn’t rung once, not once, all the time she’d been here. For a woman in constant international demand, her phone had been totally silent.

I broached the subject. ‘Agi, how come your phone hasn’t rung?’

She looked up and smiled, ‘Oh, my calls are all forwarded to Richard when I don’t want to be disturbed. He has strict instructions not to call unless it’s an emergency.’

‘Oh, so Richard is handling all your modelling dates?’

‘Well, sort of. He just says no to all offers, until I say stop. It works, and my contacts are used to me going off grid, so to speak. And talking of modelling jobs, it’s about time I took some photos of you.’ She waved her phone at me.

She didn’t have any photos of me, nor I, her. I certainly didn’t want any images of me in her phone. What if she lost it, or it was stolen? My face would be all over the Nine O’Clock news in no time.

‘Nope, sorry. I’m supposed to be anonymous, remember?’

Agi looked disappointed. ‘Look bebby, I won’t show your face, no one will know it’s you. Come on bebby, please. I’ve got to have something to keep me going when I’m not with you.’

I laughed and said jokingly, ‘Just take a pair of my knickers from the laundry basket.’

Agi pouted, ‘Really? You’re going to refuse me this one small favour?’

I have to admit, posing for a few risqué photos did have some appeal.

And the irony was not lost on me, having my photo taken by one of the most photographed women in the world, who’d have thought?

‘So, none of my face, right. OK. But I get to see all the photos and if I don’t like it, I delete it. Deal?’

Agi stood up, triumphantly. ‘Deal.’

I looked around the room, the furnishings, although not chic by any standards, they were quite recognisable to almost everyone who knew me.

‘OK, I stand in front of these curtains, nowhere else, right?’

Agi wrinkled her nose in disapproval, but I gave her my best defiant stare.

‘OK, bebby.’

I took my place in front of my plain brown curtains. ‘What do you want me to do?’

Agi pointed her phone at me and said, ‘Just stand there and show me your best.’

She took a photo and l checked it straight away. I was pleased to see that she had cut my head off.

Agi continued to snap away and then said, “OK, up with the skirt, let’s see the good stuff.’

Any other time, I would have abandoned the whole thing, but inexplicably, I was feeling in a rather saucy mood.

I didn’t hesitate, I just hoisted my skirt and showed her my knickers. Her camera clicked away and with very little coaxing from Agi, I bent over, pulled my knickers to the side and flashed my fanny. I was really getting in to the spirit of it, getting more and more daring, more and more indecent and even downright slutty.

Agi was loving it, and so was I. I found it a real turn on, I was getting hornier by the second. It wasn’t long before I was bent over, knickers down and pulling my arse open to show off my cunt.

Agi made all the right noises, encouraging me to go further, to be even more filthy.

I even surprised myself, by standing with my legs wide open and my fingers up my snatch. I started to masturbate, to actually wank myself off.

What I didn’t know, was that Agi had changed the camera setting to video. Now here I was, backed up against the curtains, cunt on display, and rubbing one out, on camera.

And it wasn’t just for show either. I was so genuinely randy, that I was trying to make myself cum.

Agi, during all of this, had got down on her hands and knees to film it all in close-up. When she shoved her face between my legs, I didn’t stop her. In fact, I grabbed her head and rammed my cunt in to her mouth. I was extraordinarily randy, I had never become so intensely aroused, so soon after such satisfying and pleasurable sex. For no known reason, I had become ravenous for sexual gratification, insatiable, always in need of sex.

Agi was making the most of her unexpected chance and was sucking and licking my slit. I was grinding my crotch and uttering loud cries and squeals

of elation. I felt myself cumming, it was building quickly spreading and rising, I couldn’t control it.

A rush of euphoria engulfed me, sending ripples of searing pleasure through my body.

I sank down to my knees, my legs suddenly felt a little wobbly and unable to bear my weight. I sat, panting, getting my breath, trying to understand this new, puzzling but delightful situation. I was finding myself sexually aroused, more frequently and readily than ever before. Orgasm seemed to be easier to achieve than I had ever experienced with other partners. I wracked my brains for an explanation. The first highly implausible solution that came to mind, was that Agi had been slipping some sort of potent aphrodisiac in to my coffee. But of course, that was ridiculous. The next idea was equally absurd.

I had read, that some women produce a powerful pheromone that attracts and arouses others around them. That might explain Agi’s, and of course, Bailey’s, phenomenal appeal and magnetism. She had certainly drawn me in.

But no, that couldn’t be it, could it?

I looked at Agi sitting cross legged by the sofa, she was grinning like the cat that got the cream. Her finger whisked across the screen of her phone as she reviewed the photos, there must have dozens of them and a few videos as well. I regained some composure, pulled up my knickers and crawled across to her.