Chapter 3

"Hey babe," a drunken reveller shouted at her at a break in the live music. She had been entertaining the gentlemen at the party all night and was feeling decidedly tired; she had certainly earned her money but smiled at the guy staggering over to her. "Were you the girl who fucked ol' Georgie?"

He pointed at a drunken guy collapsed in the corner and she nodded.

"He said you had the loveliest cunt he had ever seen." He shouted, and there was near silence in the room. "Who wants to see her cunt?"

There was cheer amongst the music and Sandy appeared behind her. "They want you naked babe."

"Let's have all the chicks naked," cried a voice from the other side of the room and Grace looked around. She knew five of them were there as "entertainment" but there was at least four times that number who were guests but as the chanting and hollering started all of them stripped to satisfy the testosterone-filled urges in the room.

Grace peeled her silk lingerie off that the host had provided: she was paid to do this and couldn't complain, but got groped as she did, and the provided underwear disappeared into the crowd as soon as it had been removed from her. Certainly the party had got more hedonistic and debauched as the night had wore on, and the alcohol consumption had risen.

"Hey, a shaved fanny," yelled a girl in front of her and eyes descended on Grace. She was stroked, fondled and manhandled as every guy in the room wanted to feel her smooth, glabrous womanhood. She looked around, she was the only woman in the room she could see without pubic hair and a couple of gentleman took an unusual interest in her all of a sudden. Perhaps she looked a bit too young, and they were creepy.

Grace was used to undesirable gentleman, half of the men at the parlour were what Sandy called "inky" and she was used to be treated as a sexual object, but she was not going to complain: she was getting paid an enormous sum of money just to drink free beer, give blow jobs and fuck anyone who asked. She was earning in one night what she would earn in over a week at the massage parlour although she was beginning to be a little sore and was quite glad she wasn't working there for a couple of days.

Sandy had come to her rescue half way through the night and slipped her a small tube of K-Y Jelly which she was discreetly using to reduce friction. It was a common ploy in the massage parlour, but worked very well at the party as the guys were fairly drunk and she was having to put condoms on them anyway so a small squirt of lubrication as she positioned them into her was not noticed and they came pretty quickly from the intercourse.

"Let's see the two girls fuck," a voice cried and Grace was pushed towards Sandy, and they gave each other knowing smiles.

"Sure," Grace cried. "You can go on top!"

"I haven't got my knickers or my bra," Sandy moaned as they stepped into the road. The room where they got changed had been raided as souvenirs and a large number of clothes had disappeared from when they arrived to when they left, although their cash for the night was still in the safe, to everyone's relief.

The party was a fifteen minute walk from their house, residing in one of the more fashionable parts of London and the girls had opted for a brisk walk instead of an expensive taxi ride.

"Well I am bottomless," Grace whinged and Sandy peered down at her friends predicament.

"You do look sexy though," Sandy told her and Grace wrapped her coat around her to protect her modesty as much as possible. The wind rustled up her thighs and it did feel sensual as the coat barely reached her waist. "Hey, we really worked for our cash, eh?"

Grace smiled and darted between the street lights. "Yeah. One guy just keep coming back for blow jobs. He was hurting my jaw in the end."

Sandy chuckled. "I know. I had a guy who loved my ass. I reckon I went though twenty rubbers tonight."

Grace nodded and darted down behind a parked car as cyclist came past.

"Oh Grace, don't be silly, it's just a cyclist. And he looks like Terry."

Grace peered out, wondering if the guy was Terry, if he was stalking her but it wasn't.

"I saw you looking. Hoping that it was I bet." Sandy teased.

Grace scoffed at her friend and replied scornfully, "don't be silly."

Sandy poked her tongue out at Grace and shook her head. "I know you better than that, you were checking out his butt last night. You had that horny look in your eye."

"I didn't. He is just some punter who thinks I might want to be his girlfriend."

"Well I still think you should have given more than three dances," Sandy told her as the meandered their way through the piles of rotting rubbish on the kerb. "He did pay for your drinks and his hands didn't wander. And Gracie, he is so cute. I bet you were thinking of him at the party."

"I was not," Grace lied indignantly and then sighed. "And anyway, he was a punter," Grace added wearily. They had been having this conversation all day and she was getting very tired of it. "I just don't date people who pay me for sex. It's messy."

"It is a little messy. But he was cute," Sandy replied, repeating the sum total of her argument. "Remember the way he insisted on paying for your drinks and all he wanted was a peck on the cheek in return. Are you sure he is just a punter, he said some really nice things about you?"

Grace groaned as she recollected. Terry had certainly been very complimentary about her, how she looked and danced, and he did keep his hands to himself when they were dancing but he still paid her for sex, and that made him off-limits and unsuitable boyfriend material.

"And he walked us to the end of our street," Sandy reminded her. This was true, Grace had insisted that he go no further citing parlour rules, and he was quite happy with this. She watched him sulk off into the night as Sandy and her walked up their poorly-lit road to bed. "He certainly likes you."

"That's true, he does."

Sandy bit her lip for a moment and then confessed. "When you went to the toilet, he did sort of ask when you were next working."

Grace spun round and looked at her friend under the street light. "Please tell me you didn't tell him," she pleaded and Sandy looked apologetically sheepish. "Oh great! Well at least I've got two days of peace," she replied sharply. She wasn't annoyed with Sandy, she was never annoyed with her, but she had wished she hadn't divulged to him when she would be working. But then, all he had to do was ring the massage parlour anyway, and she could hardly be a prostitute who wasn't happy to have sex!

"So if you didn't like him," Sandy asked, "why did you give him a free blowjob?"

Grace sighed, the same thought had occurred to her also.

Grace slid the dildo into her well lubricated pussy, and faked a groan. She kept making exaggerated and loud moans as she pumped the fake phallus into her quicker and quicker.

She made a loud, explosive orgasm and then started panting.

"And cut! Oh Kat that was wonderful. Just the photos now and we'll be done."

Grace picked up a towel and wiped the lubricant, masquerading as juices of female arousal from her nether regions and threw the dildo off the bed. She had taken up a friend of Neville's offer of making some pornography but didn't expect it to be so pathetically boring.

While Grace's father was English, her mother came from Eastern Europe and so she had a smattering of continental facial features that the director liked; foreign girls always sold well and he was confident that if he gave her a foreign name on the credits, something like Tatana or Svetlana, then it would sell very, very well.

For that reason, Grace was not permitted to speak she had to groan, moan, fuck, suck and squeal, but not utter a single English word.

Sandy had also swung herself some extra work, she was working in an illegal casino, serving drinks almost naked and encouraging customers to spend more money than they could afford.

As much as she found most of the work at the parlour dispiriting and gloomy, making pornography was soulless and depressing. She was glad she would be returning to the more familiar surroundings the following day.

Grace and Sandy pushed open the door to the massage parlour. The manager was behind the little desk, smoking and greeted them as they came in. "Look lively gals," he said is his cockney accent. "It's openin'"

Grace and Sandy darted into the little room and got changed into more revealing attire and returned a few minutes later.

"Oh Gracie," her manager called as she emerged. "There's a geezer in the end room for ya. He asked for yew only."

Sandy smiled. "I bet it's Terry."

"Oh I hope not," Grace replied and the manager shooed her along the corridor to the room at the end.

It was. Grace bit her lip and stared at the tall guy sat on the massage table. She was a little annoyed that he had returned and asked specially for her, but he was just a client, and she preferred him to most of her other punters so she returned a forced smile.

"Lie down," he told her and she stared at him, motionless. He jumped up from the table and held out his hand where he had been.

"Pardon?"

"Lie down," he grinned and she peered at him confused. "I want to massage you."

Grace chuckled. "It doesn't work like that, hun."

"But I want to,"

She cocked her head. "Why?"

"Cos I do. I've only got you for an hour so just let me."

Grace sighed and stared at him confused. "You really want to give me a massage?"

"Yes, I want to make you smile. So hurry up, get your top off and let me start." Terry cracked his knuckles so Grace peeled off her white tank top and laid across the table. There were some oils on the side, and she guided him to use a token amount and then warm it up first in his hands.

It had been several weeks since Sandy had given Grace a massage, and she forgot how much she enjoyed them. Sure, Terry wasn't that good, he wasn't experienced but he had strong hands and was soft with his movements and his flowing motions caused her to purr contently once he had told her to just relax and stop worrying.

She sighed and glanced up at the clock. They had had fifteen minutes already and she was forgetting where she was and what she was supposed to be doing. "Don't you want one from me now?"

Terry shook his head and then realised she couldn't see him and muttered that he didn't. He had tried not to talk too much, this didn't come naturally to him and he was concentrating on what he did. He had spent the last three days reading up on massage techniques and had even visited a massage parlour in Manchester to ask the young lady to teach him the art of massage. This caused her much amusement until she realised he was serious and although he had paid for it, he did not want sex with her, just an hour of tuition.

Why was he doing this? He simply didn't know. There was something about Grace he could not put a finger on that made her so wonderful. Maybe it was the fact that she was not immediately submissive to him after that chance meeting when he took her to the club, but his eyes twinkled when he saw her, and her indifference towards him he put down to reticence and not a dislike of him.

Every girl he had ever taken out had warmed to him quickly and it had been easy; his parents were very well-off and Terry was never short of money, and he was a generous man by nature. Too often he wondered if the girls liked him because of the notes in his wallet, but here was a girl who he had warmed to immediately, and who liked him but was being evasive and hard to get. The thrill of the chase added to her allure.

Grace was also trying to rationalise Terry's behaviour but couldn't manage it so she just enjoyed his hands working their way over her skin. She was worried he would want to ask her out, or start stalking her so she had to display a coldness, but she did like him, he had a cheeky smile, a good sense of humour and a warm personality.

Terry asked Grace to turn over, which she did, displaying her firm breasts and hourglass figure. He smiled when he looked into her eyes.

"Do you mind if I take these off?" Terry asked as he pointed towards her knickers and she smiled at him. Most punters would have ripped them off but he was asking for permission politely and with genuine sincerity. She smiled.

"Of course you can," she replied and he slid them down her legs, admiring the labia poking out through the skin. "You've paid for me to take them off."

"You are very gorgeous," he told her. "As beautiful as a rose petal." Grace blushed.

Terry beamed at the girl and started massaging her thighs. She closed her eyes and he kissed her on the nipple, taking her erect point in his lips and swirling his tongue to meet it. He had dreamt of Grace every night for the last five nights, and she had been the subject of his masturbation all week; he went rock hard the moment his lips made contact with her.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him. He hadn't asked for, or paid for sex but she knew from his behaviour he would probably want it. She deliberated how to broach it, but let herself go with it for the time being. She was enjoying his soft, gentle movements. He sucked her other nipple. She felt a deft hand touch the top of her hairless sex.

She gave a gentle grunt and his fingers wandered down her wet, slippery fold. She sighed and opened her eyes. "Don't you want..."

Terry shook his head and kissed her stomach and then her mons, and his tongue finally took the place of his fingers. "I want you to relax and smile."

Grace opened her eyes wide, and started when his lips made contact. This was getting weird. In all the massage parlours and brothels she had worked at over the last two years, she had never, never had a guy go down on her. Even her boyfriends since she had first had sex six years ago, refused or only did it under protest. What was going through this guys mind?

Her ponderings were cut short as his lips darted up and down her labia and then poked at her pearl. She squealed and he sucked gently on the little button.

Grace's hands started massaging her breasts and Terry grinned. His hands went to the mouth of her pussy and oscillated in the hole. Grace cried out and Terry rolled his tongue around her engorged clitoris.

Grace shrieked, "oh god," before making high-pitched, nasal sounds. Her loins were melting and she was desperately holding out. She couldn't orgasm, she couldn't. She never came at work, she'd save her orgasms for her boyfriends, herself or even Sandy, but not for punters.

But she was coming. Terry's artful fingers were probing deeper, and his joyful sucking on her clit was taking her over the edge.