Disgust

And so with enough reluctance and reserve to appear more like a woman of good-breeding than one of easy virtue, Susan was able to convince Benedict that he was truly taking her to places she'd very rarely, if ever, been before. The two fucked on the bed, fucked on the floor and fucked against the window to the hotel suite that looked over the Houses of Parliament. Benedict fucked her vaginally and Susan sucked him off royally. Benedict achieved orgasm three times with a decent pause between each spasm, while Susan faked hers at least twice as many times. Susan was sure Sir Kenneth would be delighted with the services she'd provided his prospective investor.

Eventually, Benedict slumped on his back exhausted in the way men usually were after sex while Susan took the opportunity to examine the man who'd just been fucking her.

In comparison, even without his clothes, he was still much more presentable than most of the men Susan did business with. He wasn't perfect, of course. Few men were and almost no man in a comparable situation to Benedict's ever could be. Judging from the lines beginning to furrow his face and the paunch swelling over his waist, he was a bit older than first appearances suggested, but not excessively so. And he'd farted at the most inopportune moment during the fucking.

But then Susan wasn't expecting to see him after they had breakfast together, which they did, of course, in the hotel suite pushed in on a trolley by a nervous maid who must surely have seen a naked woman in bed with an older man before.

Susan was expecting some kind of a gratuity or tip from Benedict. These were normally more substantial than the agreed price for her services. This was already quite substantial thanks to Sir Kenneth's generosity and the value he attached to the value of her services. But how to get a tip from a man who, despite everything, still seemed to believe that Susan was the woman she'd claimed to be?

Thankfully, Susan knew exactly how to stage an opportunity for a gratuity. While Benedict was settling his bill at the hotel reception, Susan idled just by the tourist shop in front of a glass cabinet which presented a selection of jewellery and timepieces. She was less concerned about the quality of the items on display and more on the price being asked for them and the question of how easily she could sell them for the hard cash she really wanted.

"What are you looking at, my dear?" said Benedict, who could scarcely now address her any longer as Miss Worstenholme.

"Such a beautiful watch!" Susan said pointing at a £5,000 item which would surely not exceed Benedict's budget.

"It is, isn't it?" he agreed, with barely a glance. "And it can tell the time as well. Would you like it, my dear?"

"I would give anything for a watch as beautiful as that," said Susan.

"No trouble," said Benedict who pulled out his American Express card just as Susan expected.

As Susan watched the transaction take place, the only regret she now had that couldn't be washed off in the shower, was that she could have set the amount that Benedict Cosgrove could afford substantially higher.

And, as Susan slipped on the watch on her elegant slim wrist, this was one thing that for the brief while she'd be wearing it wouldn't disgust her at all.