Alicia Ch. 01

Warning! This story contains material of an adult nature and is intended for mature readers and for personal use only. No copyright infringement is intended.

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CHAPTER 1

Alicia dropped her purse on top of the highly polished surface of the counter, and eased her pert bottom onto the high bar stool. She crossed one shapely leg over the other, deliberately allowing the hem of her cream-colored miniskirt to ride up her shapely thigh, almost to the lacy top of her stocking. She then glanced in the direction of the goggle-eyed barman, and smiled at him.

The fat bartender hurried over, anxious to get a closer look at this vision of delight, who had just glided into the lounge. His dark, beady eyes roved over her shapely figure, giving her a prolonged scrutiny. "Hmm, I bet I know what a good-looking female like you is doing, out on your own," he told himself, smugly.

"Yes Miss, what can I get you?" he enquired, putting an oily smile onto his podgy features.

The girl stared at the row of upturned bottles attached to the optics behind him and, pursing her full, red lips, pressed a well-manicured fingernail against them. The small frown of concentration, that wrinkled her high forehead, disappeared, as she quickly made up her mind. "A dry Martini, with lots of ice, I think," she announced in a husky voice, turning her gaze back to him, and flashing a set of perfect, even white teeth, in a friendly smile.

"Certainly Miss!" he responded, automatically, impressed, never-the-less. He managed to drag his eyes away from her, and turned to prepare her drink. "Wow, what a little raver," he thought, as he half-filled a glass with crushed ice, "I wouldn't mind getting my leg over that!"

While she was waiting for her drink, Alicia casually glanced around the room. This was her first visit to the lounge bar of the Excelsior Hotel.

It was an opulent place, as befitted one of the most expensive hotels in central London. The spacious lounge was filled with comfortable-looking well-upholstered easy chairs, clustered around low, round, glass-topped tables. Thick, lush beige-colored carpet covered the floor. With the exception of two large, glass chandeliers, that hung from the ceiling, the subdued illumination was provided by indirect wall lighting. Music was quietly playing in the background, from hidden speakers. A fair sprinkling of customers sat, or lounged, at the tables.

The girl concentrated her attention on the unaccompanied males, mildly amused, but not in the least bit surprised, by the fact that she appeared to be the main focus of attention, for the majority of the room's occupants. The men all seemed to be wearing smart jackets and ties. "Probably one of these places that impose a strict code of dress?" she correctly surmised.

She wriggled her posterior into a more comfortable position on the leather-covered stool, and as she swiveled around, to get a better view, a handsome young fellow in a dark-blue suit, caught her eye. He was seated at a table, just a few yards away, and seemed to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He stared back at her, an insolent smirk on his clean-shaven features.

Alicia batted her eyelashes and turned away, just as the barman arrived with her drink. "That will be three-pounds eighty, please Miss," he said, placing the glass of wine down, in front of her, his eyes flitting over her shapely contours.

She fumbled in her black, leather purse, and handed over the exact amount in loose change. "Thank you, darling," she purred, with a grateful smile. "I was dying for a drink. You're a real life-saver!"

A flustered expression appeared on his face, and she watched, with some amusement, as he beat a hasty retreat back to the cash register. She took a healthy slug of her Martini and glanced over toward her nearby admirer. He was still boldly eyeing her up! "Looks like you could be in there, girl," she told herself, pretending to ignore him, and glancing around the lounge, nonchalantly. She took another sip of her Martini.

Alicia Rossetti was a prostitute by profession, a very expensive and high-class one but, never-the-less, a prostitute. She was a loner, who did the rounds of all the better-class hotels in central London, allowing herself to be picked up by rich business types, or wealthy overseas visitors, who were lonely and looking for some female company! She knew the risks that she was taking but, financially, it proved very rewarding!

Alicia was just twenty-six years of age, going on forty, and five-feet nine-inches tall. She had dark, smoldering, Latin looks, inherited from her Italian parents, who had lived in England since before she was born. Her figure was firm and shapely, and her legs long and lithe. She kept in trim with regular sessions at a gymnasium, supplemented by early-morning jogging sessions, and the occasional aerobics class.

Alicia had been on the game since she was sixteen, having run away from her family home in Mansfield, and arrived in London in search of fame and fortune. She hadn't yet achieved the fame, well notoriety perhaps, but she was well on her way to earning her fortune!

She raised her knee slightly, allowing the hem of her skirt to slide even further up her smooth thigh, revealing the black garter straps clipped to her stocking-tops. Out of the corner of her eye, she observed her admirer's eyes widen, with undisguised pleasure. She turned her head and smiled directly at him, seeing his eyes light up with renewed interest.

Alicia was wearing a short, cream-colored, summer frock, with a high front, plunging back and slightly flared miniskirt. It must've been obvious to everyone in the room, that she wasn't wearing a bra. The stretch Lycra of the high, lightly wired bodice clung to her small breasts. Beneath the dress, she was wearing a minimum of underwear, a tiny pair of lacy white panties, sheer stockings and garter belt. A pair of white, court shoes, with four-inch high stiletto heels completed her ensemble.

The 'mark' rose to his feet and sauntered over, clutching his empty glass. He sat down on the stool next to her and waved his glass at the barman. "Another G and T please Jerry," he called, in a deep, accent-free voice.

"Coming up Mr. Smith!" the waiter called, as he finished serving another customer. Taking a fresh glass, he partially filled it from an optic labeled 'Booth's Dry Gin' and added half a bottle of Britvic tonic, and a slice of lemon. He rushed over and placed the glass down on the counter. "One double-gin and slimline tonic with a slice, no ice," he announced, with a smug grin. He prided himself in remembering a customer's preferences.

"Thanks Jerry!" the man replied, turning to stare at Alicia. "Can I get you anything, darling?" he enquired, with a confident smirk on his clean-cut features.

Alicia smiled back at him. "Same old chat-up line," she thought. "That's very sweet of you," she murmured. "I'll have another dry Martini, please!" She drained her glass and held it out to the barman, who took it wordlessly from her hand, and went to refill it.

While Jerry was getting her drink, they exchanged introductions. "My name's Stephen, Stephen Smith," he said, holding out a limp hand.

"Alicia, Alicia Rossetti! Nice to meet you," she responded, taking his hand in hers. His palm was a little clammy, she observed. He was wearing a well-cut dark-blue suit that looked very expensive, but he didn't strike her as the usual city business type?

The barman returned with her drink. Stephen pulled out a bulging wallet and tossed a tenner onto the counter. "Thanks Jerry! Keep the change," he said, expansively. He turned his attention back to Alicia. "Now, where were we, gorgeous?" he asked.

Alicia had caught a glimpse of the wad of notes in his wallet, and her pulse quickened, as her predatory instincts kicked in. She leant forward toward him, thrusting out her chest, suggestively. "You were just about to tell me all about yourself," she urged, placing her hand on top of his.

He dragged his gaze from the smooth, rounded contours of her breasts. "No I wasn't! We were going to talk about you," he contradicted. "Now, what's a gorgeous girl like you doing, drinking alone, in a place like this?"

Alicia couldn't hide her smile. "I fancied a drink, so here I am," she responded. "As a matter-of-fact, I was beginning to get a teensy bit bored with the joint! It's not very lively!"

"Then it's a good job I turned up," he replied, immodestly, squeezing her upper arm. "If you're looking for a good time, darling, then I'm your man!" He raised an eyebrow in silent query. "How about it? Do you fancy a good time?"

"I never say no to a good time," she replied, looking him straight in the eye. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

He downed his gin and tonic, before replying. "We could go up to my room, for some fun and games?" he suggested, with a broad grin. "I guarantee you won't be disappointed!"

"Fine," she readily agreed, "just as long as you appreciate that I don't come cheap!"

He was momentarily taken aback. "Oh, ah, sure," he blustered, quickly recovered his composure. "Money's no object!"

"Then why don't we get started?" she purred.

He nodded, eagerly. Quickly downing the remains of her drink, she slid from the stool, flashing a considerable expanse of bare flesh, and a tantalizing glimpse of her underwear, to the rest of the ogling clientele. Arm in arm, they strolled out of the lounge, heading for the main elevator in the foyer.

"I, ah, I must admit, I didn't realize you were on the game," he admitted, as they entered the lift, and the door whooshed shut behind them. "You're so classy looking!"

She smiled but didn't bother to reply.

As he pressed the button for the fifth floor, Alicia entwinned her arms about his neck and pressed her generous red mouth against his. "You'll find that I'm worth every penny, honey," she breathed, as their kiss ended, pressing her breasts hard up against his chest.

His arms encircled her trim waist. "Just how much IS this going to cost me?" he asked, a look of momentary anxiety appearing on his youthful face.

"Three-fifty," she murmured, peering up at him through her long dark eyelashes.

He gave a gasp of surprise. "Say, that's a bit pricey isn't it?" he exclaimed, with a slight frown.

"Not for the services I provide, lover," she murmured, rubbing her right knee against his crotch, and discovering his already semi-hard state. She traced the outline of his mouth, with butterfly light kisses, then shrugged before continuing. "Of course, if you'd rather not...?"

"It'd better be worth it," he groaned, clutching her shapely rear, with both hands, and pulling her hard up against him.

"It will be!" she replied, smiling at the thought of the three-hundred and fifty pounds.

The elevator gave a jolt, as it arrived at the fifth floor, and the door slid open. Taking her hand in his, he led her to the second door on the right, room number 503. He unlocked the door and pushed it open. "This is it," he announced, standing aside, to allow her enter.

As she entered, Alicia glanced around. It was the usual hotel bedroom, perhaps a bit bigger, and more luxuriously appointed, than most, but basically similar to a thousand others she'd been in. Immediately to her left, a door led off to an en-suite bathroom.

She walked over to the large double-bed and threw her purse on top of the bedclothes, before sitting down on the edge of the mattress and pulling off her shoes. She gave a gasp of delight, as she removed each shoe, wriggling her toes inside her stockings. "Ah, that's better," she groaned. "My poor feet were absolutely killing me!"

She opened her eyes, and looked over toward Stephen. He'd already removed his jacket and tie, and was in the process of unbuttoning his shirt collar.

He looked across at her, eagerly. "Well, get 'em off," he ordered. "Let's see what I'm paying for?"

"Sure!" She smiled and rose to her feet, before unfastening the clasp at the back of her neck and allowing the high front of her dress to fall about her waist.

His eyes grew large, and he gave a low, appreciative whistle, as he gazed at the firm, rounded orbs of her breasts, with their large areolae and prominent nipples. "Not bad, not bad at all," he croaked, a bright, feverish light appearing in his eyes, as he hastily finished stripping off his shirt.

Alicia's hands moved to the short zip fastener at the small of her back, quickly unfastening it, and allowing her skirt to slip down about her ankles. "Satisfied," she murmured, stepping out of the fallen garment, and thrusting her hips forward, provocatively.

Stephen gazed on her shapely 34c-24-36 inch vital statistics, with obvious pleasure, his eyes lingering on the tightly stretched crotch of her shear, lacy panties, where the shape of her vaginal lips was clearly outlined beneath the clinging material.

"Now the knickers," he instructed, huskily, "but leave the stockings and garter belt on!"

Alicia nodded and proceeded to unclip her garters, so that she could wriggle out of her tight white panties. She stepped out of her panties and threw them onto the bed behind her. As she was refastened her garters, she glanced up, and was mildly amused to see his erection straining to escape from his trousers.

She sauntered over to him, and threw her arms about his neck, pressing her naked tits against his hairy chest. "Is this all right?" she murmured, as her mouth descended over his, in a long, French kiss, her fingers entwining in the hair, at the back of his neck.

"Mmmgh!" he replied, as her questing tongue pushed passed his teeth, and sought out his tonsils. His hands slipped beneath her narrow garter straps, and came to rest on her smooth, rounded buttocks.

Her hands moved down to his waist, unbuckling his belt, and unzipping his slacks, with experienced ease, before tugging them down, until they fell about his ankles. Her right hand slipped beneath the waistband of his polka-dot boxer shorts, and traveled through his riot of pubic hair, before cradling his testicles.

He jerked, breaking away, panting, his cock growing and hardening. "Jesus, you're a fast worker!" he gasped, as she removed her hand.

"Why waste time, when you should be enjoying yourself," she murmured, her eyes hooded, as she started to plant small, butterfly kisses on his chest, gradually moving downward, as she sank onto her haunches.

As her face came level with his crotch, her hands tugged his shorts down, revealing his manhood, lying fat against his full, hanging ballsack. "Mmmm, nice!" she hissed, cradling his bollocks and watching his cock, twitch and harden, until it stood out, rigid, at an angle of about forty degrees to the horizontal.

"Jesus! Get on with it, you fucking bitch," he gasped, thrusting his hips forward.

"Patience, honey," she chuckled. "If it's worth having, it's worth waiting for!" She slipped her left hand about his muscular shaft and began to squeeze and relax her grip, at the same time slipping the tight foreskin back from his dark, swollen glans.

Stephen gasped, as she ran the tip of her tongue over the swollen, purple flesh, running it along the crack, while her other hand began to slide back and forth, along his veiny length. "I-I want you to go down on me," he gasped, jerking his hips forward. "Now!"

Alicia, smiled up at him. "Of course you do!" she thought, then, pursing her red-painted lips, she slipped them over his knob, and lowered herself onto him, until she felt his cock nudging the back of her throat. Keeping her lips firmly clamped about his male flesh, she withdrew her head from his crotch, sucking hard, until just his knob was retained in her hot, eager mouth.

"Jesus, but you're good!" he gasped.

"Mmmm!" She ran her tongue over and around his fleshy knob, then went down on him again, and again, and again.

"Oooh, Jesus!" he gasped, as his hips began to jerk, uncontrollably, and he lost control and climaxed.

A jet of hot cum, splattered against the back of Alicia's throat, before she had time to remove his cock. She gagged for a couple of seconds, then started to eagerly swallow his creamy load. She loved the taste of spunk!

He gave a final twitch of his cock, as Alicia sucked him dry, and allowed his shrinking organ to slip from between her slack lips. "You certainly give good value for money!" he gasped. "That was the best bloody blow job, I've ever had!"

Alicia, looked up, from her squatting position, licking the last traces of his creamy cum from her full lips. "I didn't mean to let you cum quite so soon," she admitted, "but I'm sure I'll be able to raise your interest again!"

"I'm sure you will," he agreed, with a low chuckle, his hands playing with her tits, as she rose to her feet, his thumbs flicking her prominent nipples into full erection. "God, but you're sexy, Alicia!"

She kissed him lightly on the mouth, before pulling away. "No anal sex, or kinky goings on, mind!" she said, seriously, with a small frown on her forehead.

"Spoil-sport!"

Alicia grinned. "Before we get down to some serious fucking, I'd like to use your bathroom, if I may?" she murmured. "I'm absolutely dying for a piss!"

"Sure, be my guest," he replied, with a roguish grin.