It’s Only Money

'And now, Hannah, just a couple of quick close-ups of your delicious pussy,' Monica said. Thwat! Thwat! Thwat! 'Yes, it really is rather delicious,' she said softly. 'I can see why Celia was a little ... well ... obsessed. I almost feel like eating you myself.'

And then it was over. 'OK, girls,' Monica said, 'I think that's it for today. Good work. Well done.'

'Alright, Hector?' Celia called out.

From out of the darkness at the far end of the studio, a frail male voice, the voice of a man who sounded as if he must have been at least 100, replied. 'Very nice, thank you, Celia. And I very much enjoyed the new girl, too.'

'Hannah,' Celia called out. 'Her name's Hannah.'

'Hannah,' the voice said. 'Yes. A nice name. And, yes, you were very good, Hannah. I look forward to seeing you again.'

Soon after that, there was a scuffling, shuffling sound from the darkness. And then the sound of a door opening. And then closing. And then silence.

Monica picked up a large manila envelope that was lying on one of the side tables, opened it, and pulled out two fat wads of bank notes secured with rubber bands. 'There you are,' she said, as she handed one to each of us. 'There should be five hundred there. Count it is you want to.'

'What? Pounds?' I said. 'Just for an hour or so?'

Monica smiled. 'There'll be more where that came from.'

I looked at Celia. But she just shrugged her shoulders. 'Well, it makes Hector happy,' she said. 'The old bugger's as rich as Croesus. He's not going to live forever. He has no children. And, as he says himself: it's only money.'