Four Weeks

With the action came reality. It hit Jenny like a slap in the face. She was utterly and totally Edie's woman, at least for tonight. The black dyke had made her hers.

Tonight, Edie Phillips owned her!

Electricity ran through her body. If she couldn't please Annabelle, she'd please this woman. Edie wanted her. Annabelle didn't.

She couldn't help herself. Edie held her head in position, indulging her while her mouth attacked the flowing juices like a thirsty woman in the desert. She swallowed them, licked her lips, savoured the taste and then returned for more.

Edie began to moan. She bucked on her face again.

"Black pussy..." she whispered. "I always knew you'd succumb, honey. Even when you were resisting, I knew it was only a matter of time. I knew if I was patient I'd eventually have that cute face between my thighs."

The words burned their way into Jenny's psyche. Edie was taunting her but she didn't care. In she was truthful then she would admit to herself that the words only inflamed her further. Her neck was aching as she stretched her head upwards but she couldn't stop. She was so aroused she thought she might go mad. She was out of control and they both knew it.

"It's okay..." Edie whispered.

She sat up on her haunches and placed her palms over Jenny's hands, entwining their fingers.

"It's okay," she repeated. "Lick me, honey. It's yours..."

She rotated her hips in slow circles on Jenny's face as the younger woman devoured her juices. They stayed that way for some time, each revelling in their own satisfaction. When Jenny came up for breath Edie pressed her body downwards and began to grind again. Slowly. Then more quickly. Her breathing increased. Suddenly her movements were fast, frantic and deliberate.

The tide was sweeping in...

*

Jenny opened her eyes to voices. There was more than one. Or had she been dreaming? She must have fallen asleep at some point.

"Welcome back," she heard Edie say.

She turned her head to the side. The older woman was sitting on the bed beside her. There was a distinct hint of amusement on her face.

"I know how you like surprises, honey. I have another..."

She reached out to cup Jenny's chin and turned her face to the left. Jenny's heart began to race. The full figured woman standing next to the bed was a little older than Edie and wore matching black bra and panties. And ridiculously high heels.

"This is my best friend," Edie softly told her.

The back of her fingers curled along Jenny's right cheek as she spoke.

"I've told quite a few of my friends all about you and Monica asked for a test drive. What do you think?"

Jenny heard the words but at first they barely registered. Both women waited, smiles playing across each of their faces as realisation eventually dawned on the younger woman. No, this wasn't possible. She shook her head, but Monica was already removing her panties. Unlike Edie, she had a thick bush of black hair.

"She's just a little bashful," Edie murmured. "But she's like all the others. She likes to pretend otherwise but she can't resist. Can you honey?"

Jenny shook her head again. She was disorientated. Was she agreeing or disagreeing? It was difficult to be sure, especially as Monica had sauntered towards the chair in the corner of the bedroom. The curvy woman sat down and instantly spread legs apart. It was impossible not to stare...

"Edie tells me you're very good," she murmured in a distinctly Caribbean dialect. "Come here, baby. I hope you're goin' to make Momma very happy."

Jenny shook her head again. It was difficult to speak. But Edie's arm was around her shoulder, helping her to her feet. She guided her across the room and gently pushed her down onto her knees. She shook her head again but her gaze was consumed by the feast that awaited her.

"I'm not really lesbian," Monica drawled as she made herself comfortable on the chair. "But there's no way my man would ever think about doin' this for me."

She had a warm face and her full lips were painted a glossy red. They curled at the edges as she smiled down at Jenny. With a surprising tenderness, she reached out with her right hand and gently stroked the Jenny's dark hair. It was still damp and matted from her previous exertions with Edie.

Her left hand sat between her thighs and she almost idly ran her fingertips through her plump labial lips as she spoke in that West Indian accent.

"Edie's such a treasure, isn't she, baby? Finding little white girls as pretty as you to help out? Don't be shy. Momma's waitin'..."

The hand left Jenny's hair and curled around her neck. She pulled her head slowly and irresistibly forward, watching for any signs of refusal.

There weren't any. Was accepting her fate the same as being a willing participant? Jenny didn't know. She allowed Monica to draw her face closer, so close that the aroma of her arousal filled her nostrils. She tentatively stretched out her tongue. The woman's taste was much tangier than Edie's.

Or Annabelle's...

She didn't have time to dwell on the thought. Monica was talking to her again. Her voice was a low persuasive murmur.

"How's that taste baby? Just a little harder this time, okay?"

She tried to control herself. Her whole body was trembling. She licked again, more firmly this time. Monica's fingertips stroked the back of her neck.

"Oh yeah, that's one cute tongue..."

It became easier with each passing second. Monika's skin colour was a deeper shade of black than Edie's and Jenny licked slowly while she familiarised herself with the taste and texture.

"Yeah, that's nice, baby."

For a while Jenny treated herself, loving the woman's soft moans and the way the stroking fingers in her hair changed pace as the pressure built. Eventually, Monica's fingers turned from a soft caress to a tightened grip. Her breathing became harsher and she began to thrust upwards.

With each upward pump of her hips she drooled out further instructions.

"Put your tongue inside..."

"Suck it out of Momma..."

"Go deep baby..."

"Yes ... like that..."

"Oh fuck ... Momma's getting' close...

"My clit, baby ... my clit..."

Jenny edged upwards. Her clitoris was huge beneath her tongue, impossible to miss. She licked in tight gentle circles to begin with but Monica was in no mood for refinement. Her fingernails scratched Jenny's scalp.

"Harder, baby!"

Jenny flattened her tongue and responded instantly. The woman's moans and the way she was bucking her body was such a turn on. When Monica began to howl out her climax, the sound was unlike anything she'd ever heard.

The orgasm lasted for a good thirty seconds. Then she began to relax.

"Oh, you are really something ... Edie was right ... clean me up baby."

Jenny couldn't help herself. She licked her sex clear of juices and even when Monica patted her on her head to tell her she was happy, she wouldn't let up. This was all Annabelle's fault. She didn't want this. She didn't want to be put in this position. But Annabelle's lack of attention had placed her here.

She loved Annabelle. She hated Annabelle.

She began to lick harder, faster.

"Oh My God," Monica moaned and curled her fingers in Jenny's dark hair.

She threw a leg over the girl's shoulder, widening herself to the pleasuring tongue and began to hump back.

"Momma loves you baby..."

ANNABELLE

Griff McAffrey pushed his bifocals down his nose and looked up at Annabelle. His fingers tapped on the notes she had sent him less than half an hour ago.

"That's it?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but his upraised palm stopped her before she could utter a single word.

"Let me summarise," he growled, giving her that stare. "You've made contact with Véronique Moreau. You've met with this girl called..."

He glanced back down at the notes and then back at her.

"... called Jiao. And out of those two conversations, you've produced Jack Shit. Good work, honey."

She could feel her face colour. McAffrey had asked for an update and all she'd been able to provide was a regurgitation of stuff they already knew. How could it be anything else? She was supposed to be an investigative reporter on London's leading daily newspaper and yet all she'd done so far was to compromise herself with Véronique, Jiao and Sindee.

"What the fuck have you talked to them about?" he rasped. "Fashion? Weather? The state of the economy?"

She ran her fingers through her blonde hair and took a deep breath. Bullshitting would only make matters worse.

"I had to be careful with Véronique Moreau," she stammered. "She's no fool and in the circumstances getting Jiao as a contact was good work—"

"Good work? She's given you nothing..."

"Not yet. But I'm meeting her for lunch again today. I'm a new girl, Griff. They're hardly going to tell me everything that's going on. They wanted me to audition at the club but I had to sidestep the offer. They'd know after five minutes that I haven't danced for a living..."

She paused. McAffrey had taken off his glasses and was cleaning them on his shirt as he listened. But at least he was listening.

"So I've focused instead on trying to gain her confidence..."

Just don't ask me how, Griff, a voice inside her head whispered. Spending three hours fucking and being fucked by Jiao and Sindee was all in the line of duty!!

"I'll use our lunch to get us a lead on what they're up to and—"

McAffrey's palm was thrust in her face again.

"Look Annabelle, nobody said this was easy," he growled. "Just don't give me this crap."

He picked up the notes she'd given to him and made a show of dropping them into the waste paper basket at the side of his desk.

"I could get a cub reporter to produce something better than that shit. Now either you bring me something useful for me from your meeting today or you're off the story. Understand?"

She bit her lip and nodded. There was no point in arguing.

"Good," he grunted, replacing his bifocals. "Now fuck off."

*

Jiao smiled at her across the table. That same look had been on her face throughout their lunch. It was telling her something but Annabelle wasn't quite sure what that was.

It had been Jiao's suggestion that they lunch at The Dorchester. The choice of location was ironic. Annabelle's involvement with the story had started at the hotel and once she had the information she needed it would end there, too. She had already decided she couldn't afford to see Jiao again after today. The sex was mind-blowing but she was compromising herself with each encounter.

Besides, sooner or later her cover would be blown. She couldn't afford for that to happen. There was too much at stake.

"What?" she asked, as Jiao's smile widened.

"I was just thinking how beautiful you are."

Annabelle felt a warm glow and bashfully returned the smile.

"Why, thank you."

Jiao tilted her head in acknowledgement.

"You're welcome. I was thinking what a great fuck you are too ... a little shy to begin with, but then uninhibited when we release that tiger inside you."

She kicked off one of her stilettos as she spoke and casually ran her bare foot up and down Annabelle's leg. The blonde reporter tried to disguise a shiver.

"Tell me something," she sexily continued. "Did you tell your girlfriend about Sindee and me?"

Annabelle's heart began to palpitate. Her girlfriend? She hadn't mentioned Jenny, had she? But Jiao was continuing to talk to her as she searched her mind.

"I'd say you're perfect for us. Véronique thinks so, too. I take it you'd like a job as a dancer. And ... an escort?"

Annabelle blinked her eyes in an attempt to stop her head from spinning. Throughout the small talk they'd made during lunch she'd been wondering how to get onto this topic and here Jiao was, opening the door to the questions she had.

"Yes ... of course," she said, attempting to keep her voice calm. "I think I've already shown my commitment."

Jiao placed her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand, staring deeply into her eyes. That same smile was on her face.

"Oh, you've done that..." she drawled in that cute accent of hers. "I've been very impressed. You can earn big money as an escort, you know. "Véronique runs a unique service. The rich and influential come to her when they want a particularly... 'special' time. How about I tell you all about it?"

Annabelle's heartbeat quickened. Take it slowly, she told herself. Don't appear too eager. Let Jiao fill in the gaps. Once they were finished and she'd reported back, Griff McAffrey would think she was the best thing since sliced bread.

"We have as many female clients as men," Jiao continued. Her foot under the table rose higher and began to push Annabelle's legs apart. "The older women will pay up to ten grand for a night with beautiful young girls like you."

The blonde reporter shuffled on the chair, torn between the information she needed to gather and the foot that was scraping along her inner thigh. She told herself to focus but her legs were widening of their own volition. The way Jiao's sparkling eyes were staring at her added to the moment.

A blush spread across her cheeks. She'd seen that look before...

"But before I give away all our secrets," Jiao murmured. "Maybe you'd like to relieve some of that tension inside you first?"

The Chinese-American's foot found her moistness through her panties and she pressed hard. Annabelle stifled a groan. Common sense told her to get the story first. But the needs of her body were telling her something else.

"Of course you do," the stunning young woman murmured.

Her almond shaped eyes sparkled with amusement as she pushed up from her seat.

"I think you know the way."

*

It was all so familiar. The walk across to the elevators. The upwards ride. The plush hallway on the twenty-fourth floor. The door to the opulent suite.

As Jiao led her inside the outer room, her heart was pounding. It began to beat even faster when she heard movement inside the adjacent room. Was Véronique there? She suddenly realised that she wanted to see. If this was going to be a goodbye fuck, why not do it in style?

Her eyes widened in expectation as she walked expectantly into the large room. They turned into saucers when she saw—recognised—the woman waiting for them. Georgina Walters was a well known personality who co-presented, along with her husband, the most successful morning television show in Britain.

She was wearing a light robe and unfolded her legs from beneath her and stretched them along the length of the sofa she was seated on. Her red hair was damp as if she had recently stepped out of the shower.

"About time," she snapped at Jiao, although her eyes were all over Annabelle. "I don't pay for tardiness."

"I'm so sorry, Georgina," the Chinese-American softly murmured. "I can assure you the delay will be worthwhile. You asked for a new girl. What do you think?"

Annabelle glanced at Jiao, seeking some sort of explanation even if the facts were there for all to see. None was forthcoming. When she turned her gaze back to Georgina Walters, the red-haired woman slowly uncrossed her legs. The robe slipped away, as if allowing the heat between her thighs to escape.

"I'm impressed," she drawled. "Let me see the goods."

Annabelle stared at her, trying to make sense of what was happening. This wasn't another test. It wasn't something she could justify to herself as a necessity for the story. She was there as an escort. A prostitute. Georgina Walters had paid for her services. She was actually expected to have sex with one of the most respected women on television today.

Jiao came up behind her as she stood there, a rabbit caught in headlights. She didn't move. She couldn't move. Not even when she felt Jiao's fingers pulling down the zip on the back of her dress. The rasping sound reverberated around her bemused head as Jiao unzipped the dress.

Georgina nodded her approval as it fell to her ankles. The older woman was studying Annabelle's body like a lioness sizing up its prey. She lowered one foot to the floor and dropped a hand inside the gap in her gown.

"You're right," she said to Jiao. "The wait was worthwhile."

Her gaze returned to Annabelle. Her arm was flexing, barely noticeable, but just enough to suggest she was stroking herself. When she saw the blonde reporter's eyes dip between her legs she gave a knowing smile.

In spite of herself Annabelle felt her cheeks begin to redden. This married presenter was sitting there, less than a metre in front of her, masturbating. She should have turned and made a run for it but that would destroy any opportunity of securing the facts she needed.

But the alternative didn't bear thinking about...

"You know what I love most in this world?" she asked.

Her free hand went to the tie of her robe and pulled it free. She shucked the silk garment from her shoulders. Her full breasts were crowned with large and erect pink nipples, standing proud enough to cast shadows.

"I love having a new girl go down on me for the first time."

She widened her legs so that Annabelle could see the red curls and the plump labia that were now glistening with her juices. The reporter knew that time was running out if she was to make her escape but for a few brief seconds the picture Georgina had painted was emblazoned on her mind.

Irrespective of the impact on her story, she should have felt abhorrence at the thought of being used as a prostitute. But to her eternal shame she felt a familiar tingling between her legs. The prospect was as exciting as it was frightening.

Suddenly Jiao's hands were on her again. They were on her shoulders, gently guiding her downwards, onto her knees.

Her mind screamed out a protest. This wasn't possible. She couldn't.

*

Georgina Walters was the noisiest lover Annabelle had ever experienced.

Each moan, groan and cry of passion had been infectious. She had literally screamed out three orgasms and each time her gripping fingers had threatened to tear Annabelle's blonde hair out by the roots.

After the third, she had made no objection when Annabelle had turned her attention from pussy to ass. Her whole body had shuddered when the reporter had rimmed her puckered opening and then pushed her tongue inside.

The resultant orgasm had been the noisiest of all.

Annabelle had been partially aware of the camera in Jiao's hand at one point, but even as she had tried to object the red-haired TV presenter's hands were jamming her head back into position. She screamed at the top of her voice as she had humped her pulsating cunt across the reporter's willing mouth.

Again and again. This was raw sex at its most basic level. Jenny never used her like this...

And now Georgina was almost out-of-control. The older woman was insatiable. Annabelle had serviced her continuously for a couple of hours and still she needed more. She had hooked both of her legs over Annabelle's shoulders and was stretching out her full length across the cream sofa.

"Oh shit, you bitch," she screamed out as she bucked hard and fast against the reporter's face. "I'm gonna cum again—"

*

The bathroom felt like a refuge. Jiao had run the bath for her immediately Georgina had left the suite and Annabelle rested her head against the back of the tub, trying to comprehend the implications of what she'd just done.

The ramifications were frightening. She was supposed to be investigating prostitution, not becoming a part of it.

She wiped away the sweat that had gathered on the bridge of her nose and thought of Jenny. As incredibly hot as her new sexual adventures were, she was surprised to realise that she actually missed the moments of soft intimacy with her girlfriend. All she'd ever wanted was for Jenny to be more aggressive at times.