Kat - The Making of a Call Girl

I was well aware of the effects of alcohol, having drunk it frequently and in moderation over the past few years. In aspects such as this my parents were not at all remiss. Mom was also not remiss in having the obligatory girl talk about sex, pregnancy, contraception, relationships and other matters. When I turned 18 my Mom and I had visited our doctor and I went on the contraceptive pill in preparation for any possibility that this would be required. My parents were focussed on furthering their careers and social standing and were therefore largely unaware of my dating activities and manipulation during the past few years, although it had been a little difficult to explain the gift of a car, but I had not been swept off my feet by any irresistible Romeo so I retained my cherry intact. I had also decided in my own mind that the loss of my cherry would be preceded by a wedding ring, an unusual decision in this day and age. Otherwise, my parents were highly successful, down to earth people who had no concept of the manner in which their darling daughter was able to manipulate people for her own advantage. I was determined that this was how the situation would remain.

Needless to say, the line of young men seeking a dance with me at the party was almost endless. I was very fortunate that I had studied health and fitness at school and continued my training while attending university, so I was reasonably fit and could keep up with them all. I was danced off my feet, each time asking myself whether this was the guy who should take my cherry, and each time reaching the same answer: no. As the evening progressed the line of young men thinned and in a lull in the music an older gentleman, whom I didn't recall meeting before, introduced himself as Ron and asked if he could dance with me during the next dance, which was an older dance designed for the oldies.

I agreed and was very soon being guided around the floor, my body pressed firmly against him by the pressure of his hand on my back. I had never danced a waltz, which he told me this was, but he danced so well it felt like I was dancing like a professional. Unlike the boys I'd been dating, Ron made me feel safe and secure in his arms. He treated me like a person, rather than a sex object. I felt he wanted friendship, not just a trophy to brag about to his mates.

Between dances I asked a bit about him. He told me he was 34, an experienced criminal defence attorney and partner in a prestigious Boston law firm. He admitted he had been married and was recently divorced and had two children, the reason being, according to him, that his wife had run off with another man, probably, he thought, because he spent so much time away from home. My level of alertness increased. I had become cynical about stories told to me by men, although most were told by those about my own age. I had also developed an automatic response to men to assess how useful they could be to me. That probably sounds horrible, but it was true. Kat behaving like a cat, focused entirely on how this situation could be turned to my advantage. He seemed like a real nice guy, a pity really. I found myself wondering if this was the guy to whom I should give, no, sell my virginity.

The oldies band started up again and Ron whisked me onto the floor in a foxtrot, another dance I had never danced before. He focused on making me dance really well; I focussed on the erotic feel of his hard cock pressing through his trousers against my virginal crotch. The dance ended and I could feel my juices running down my legs. I felt so sexy, I really needed to clean up. I excused myself and visited the ladies' room, wiping myself with tissue then spending a few moments caressing my clit until I came. Pressure relieved a little, I returned to Ron. He suggested a walk in the gardens to cool off so I let myself be led outside to a quiet secluded alcove.

We wasted little time in talking. Instead we turned toward each other and kissed deeply. He was a very good kisser, compared with the kisses I'd received from previous hopefuls, and I sank into his arms, our lips glued together. Eventually we broke the kiss and he whispered to me that he had to have me, now. I pushed him away, reiterating my vow of chastity until after the ring. We talked for a while, kissed several times, but never as breathtakingly as that first time, then returned to the party. We parted for a while, both dancing with others but, as I found out later, both enamoured with the other.

Eventually the party ended and I was alone in the house with my parents and a few overnight guests from out of town. After sitting making small talk for a short time I yawned, excused myself and headed for bed. I lay awake for a while, thinking of the evening and of Ron and wondering how far I could push our relationship; how far did I really want to push our relationship? I didn't know. I did know that he was the best chance I had met for achieving the goals I had set for my life, so I figured I should just go along for the ride and see where it went. Why paddle against a current when it's already taking you in roughly the direction you want to go?

Ron phoned me a few days later and invited me to dinner and dancing at an exclusive hotel. I accepted, apparently reluctantly; not good to seem too keen. The evening was enjoyable, conversation was enlightening, food exquisite, dancing enjoyable and all in all I had a good time. I also managed to get across to Ron that I was determined to hold onto my virginity until I had a ring on my finger.

We went on several more dates during the next few weeks, eating at top restaurants and dancing the night away to old time bands playing waltzes, foxtrots, maxinas, Latin American and similar dances which involved holding each other close. Each date ended in frustration for both of us; he because he was really keen to take my virginity and carve another notch in his belt, and me because I realized how sexy he made me feel as I danced with him, our bodies pressed together with only a very few thin layers of fabric between us.

At this time I was also considering what I was going to do with my degree. I was offered several positions in local businesses, usually in marketing and social awareness, and I also had the option, and no small amount of pressure, to return to UMass Boston to study toward a Master's degree with the possibility of a PhD to follow. However, deep in my being I knew that none of these options would be as beneficial as the one I had chosen many years ago, so I vowed to follow my original instincts and persevere with Ron.

Three months after my graduation party, Ron proposed. As we watched the moon rise out of the ocean on the promenade of Winthrop Shore Drive, the moonlight casting a shimmering trail across the slightly rippled water, Ron went down on one knee, opened a small box and held it out to me, then asked me to be his wife. I looked at him and then at the ring, a beautiful platinum ring set with a huge diamond, certainly the largest I had ever seen. What to do? I thought about it for a microsecond then flung my arms around his neck and kissed him, whispering 'Yes' over and over in his ear. When we separated, he carefully placed the ring on my finger and I looked at it by the light of the moon and the widely spaced street lamps. It positively glowed, reflecting the lights from its many facets and looking for all the world exactly what it was: my key to another world, another life.

We kissed and hugged in the car for well over an hour that night. I allowed Ron to caress my bare breasts and finger my naked pussy lips, both for the first time. I also performed oral sex on him for the first time, amazing him (and me) at my prowess for a first timer. He then took me home, asking if I would let him make love to me properly. I reiterated that when I said that would only happen after I had a ring on my finger, I meant a wedding ring, not just an engagement ring. He took that setback in his stride, commenting that we'd better start making plans for the wedding then.

The following day I took the ring to a jeweller and was told it was a high quality diamond, princess cut, almost flawless and colourless and with the platinum ring was worth around the $160,000. I was stunned. I hadn't realized that Ron loved me that much. So that was the price of my virginity. Wow.

I showed it to my parents who were equally stunned and almost disbelieving that anyone would give their little girl such an exorbitantly expensive engagement ring. I refrained from telling them that I was worth it, and a lot more, and that I already had quite a collection of jewellery from past hopeful boyfriends, though nothing at all like this ring, of course.

That evening we again went out and started making plans for our wedding. It was scheduled for May the following year, a spring wedding followed by a honeymoon in the south of France and Spain. Ron had travelled extensively but never to France or Spain; I had not travelled very far from Boston but I had studied conversational French, Spanish and Italian as part of my self-imposed curriculum in school.

The next few months went by slowly as fall changed to winter, with spring seemingly reluctant to make an appearance. As a winter surprise Ron flew us both to Whistler for a week-long ski holiday in January, staying at the luxurious Four Seasons Resort which was pleasantly heated against the bitterly cold temperatures outside. We were both novice skiers so had great fun during the day learning to ski, and great fun at night swapping stories of our lives as we sat with other residents beside the roaring log fire. Each night we slept together, and each night I resisted Ron's romantic advances, limiting him to some manual and oral stimulation of my breasts and clitoris, which culminated in very satisfying orgasms each time. I reciprocated by manually and orally satisfying Ron's needs in turn.

We returned to the relative warmth of an Atlantic storm as it lashed Boston towards the end of January, then he resumed his work and I resumed my social events, meeting and cultivating friendships with the society wives and their grown children in the local community. You never knew when such contacts would be useful and I was about to enter this society as the wife of a prominent attorney.

After a final burst of last minute things that just had to be done, our wedding day arrived. I had the final dress fitting a few days prior, I had spent a great deal of time and Ron's money assembling my high fashion wardrobe for the honeymoon, including some really sexy nightwear and two tiny custom fit bikinis costing in excess of $500 each. The value per square inch of fabric in those was greater than the same area of the highest priced land in Boston. Incredible! I had long ago selected my bridesmaids, as had Ron selected his best man and groomsmen. They were all fitted out in matching and complementary outfits, the cars, venues, catering and wedding night accommodation was all booked, as was our honeymoon accommodation and travel.

The wedding vows we said had been tailor-made for us, omitting such things as me having to obey Ron and taking out the 'forsaking all others' part of the vow as we both considered this to be offensive because naturally we loved each other so wouldn't even look at other partners. The other consideration which Ron's attorney had suggested, and which I insisted upon, was a prenuptial agreement, bearing in mind that Ron was extremely wealthy while I was comparatively impecunious. I insisted on this agreement also so there could be no possibility of Ron's first wife moving in on what I considered to be rightfully mine in the case of Ron's premature death. In the agreement I was to retain complete and total ownership of the mansion in which we would live as man and wife, and would receive a lump sum payment of 50% of Ron's estate before any further disbursements and divisions took place. I considered this to be fair and, with the current estimated value of his estate being over $100 million, I thought that it would keep me in the style to which I would become accustomed until I was able to sort out another man to maintain that lifestyle.

At last the great day arrived, warm, dry, calm and sunny. I looked wonderful, so everyone said, and my bridesmaids, Ron and his groomsmen and best man all looked terrific also. It was one of the weddings of the year for the local society and the paparazzi were there in force to ensure that no little kiss, nudge or wink went unnoticed. Once the service was ended, we were photographed nearly to death, then the reception was held in a marquee on my parents' land, right where Ron and I first met less than a year earlier. The speeches went well, I threw my bridal bouquet, which was caught by my senior bridesmaid, we danced for several hours then departed for our secret location, the local police ensuring that we were not followed by errant paparazzi.

It was with relief that we entered our suite and closed the door on the rest of the world. We held each other tenderly and lovingly for several minutes, gazing into each other's eyes. Lovingly, Ron removed the tiara from my hair and undid the clips holding my hair up, allowing it to fall in blonde waves cascading about my shoulders. I kicked off my oh-so-high-heeled shoes and sank down several inches, tilting my head to keep looking into Ron's eyes, then loosened his tie and removed his jacket. Over the next half hour we stripped each other, caressing each new piece of skin that came to light, Ron admiring my lacy lingerie as his trousers tented over his rapidly inflating manhood, which I partially released from its captivity. Eventually he was standing in a pair of briefs, the head of his cock protruding above the elastic, while I was naked to the waist, wearing a garter belt, stockings and thong panties.

Ron picked me up easily and carried me into the bedroom, placing me on my back on the king size bed. He removed my thong and his undershorts and straddled my body, bending forward to kiss my lips as his fingers found my nipples and squeezed, caressed and gently twisted them, sending jolts of sexiness straight to my crotch. He spread my legs wide, moving his knees between them, and prepared to take what he now considered to be rightfully his own: my virginity. He gently pushed his hips downward and forward and I felt the head of his cock against my pussy lips for the first time. It was a strange yet very arousing sensation. I spread my legs further, opening them as wide as I could as he pressed his cock into my sopping wet vagina, stretching the walls apart further than they had ever stretched before, pressing forward, encountering no opposition from my hymen, which had long since disappeared due to my use of tampons. Slowly he pushed further into me until I felt the root of his cock press against my clitoris. I bent my knees, wrapping my legs around his waist, embracing my new future with wide open legs.

We moved together, slowly at first but with increasing speed and pressure. The feelings I was feeling were amazing. I had cum many times from clitoral stimulation, but nothing had ever prepared me for this moment. I felt my orgasm building, slowly, faster, then it was there; washing over me as I screamed out my orgasmic joy and writhed on the bed under his weight. He slowed then stopped, looking at me with smiling eyes as he watched me in the throes of ecstasy. Gradually I came back to earth and kissed him deeply, thanking him for taking my pesky virginity, thanking him for being such a wonderful lover.

After a few moments he resumed his movements. There was more? He hadn't cum? Oh goody. We continued where we'd left off, his cock like a rod of iron inside me as he pummelled my newly non-virgin love tunnel. Slowly once again I felt myself approaching orgasm. My breathing quickened, became more ragged and I closed my eyes, focusing on the wonderful sensations. Then I felt it: a spurt of hot liquid at the end of my tunnel as Ron stopped, pressed himself hard into me and came deep inside me. The sensation was like no other I've ever experienced; so sexy, so stimulating. It pushed me over the edge and I came hard, again, mewling a high pitched wail and trying to roll about under Ron's weight, which held me pinned to the bed. It was all over in about twenty seconds. Ron relaxed, collapsing on top of me then taking his weight on his arms as I returned from heaven. We gazed into each other's eyes, lost in love.

We slept, cuddled together in the huge bed, then awoke in the morning and made sweet gentle passionate love once again. Breakfast was brought to us at 9am as ordered and we luxuriated in the bed and each other for a further few hours before showering together, dressing in our travelling clothes, packing our wedding clothes to be collected by my parents and packing our cases for our honeymoon. We checked out and were taken by cab to Logan International Airport where we boarded the jet for Charles de Gaulle airport, Paris, settling into our first class seats and sipping at the complimentary champagne.

The flight was uneventful. We slept for some of the way, talking quietly for the remainder of the time of our plans and hopes for the future. Once at CDG we transferred to the TGV train and were whisked through the charming countryside to arrive in Marseille, from whence we travelled to Nice, where we were booked into the Waterfront Apartment Nice on the Promenade des Anglaise. Our apartment had beautiful views along the coast in both directions and received all day sun as it was facing south; a really wonderful place to spend the first half of our honeymoon at the start of our married life.

We ate dinner in a local café then walked along the beach, arm in arm, to any observer, obviously in love. When we returned to our apartment it was dark and we showered together before climbing into bed and making sweet gentle love. We drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, content with ourselves and the world in general.

After another session of lovemaking after we awoke, then a beautiful breakfast in a café on our way to the hire car depot, we rented a car and began touring locally, finding some beautiful beaches. What we did notice on these beaches was that most of the women were naked from the waist up. In fact wearing my full, tiny bikini I felt conspicuous so hastened to remove my top. Ron obliged by gently rubbing sunscreen onto my back and front, spending a long time on my breasts, justifying this by the fact that they were unused to sun exposure. We enjoyed a swim in the sea, the water being a comfortable temperature, and I enjoyed the feeling of the water against my naked breasts. We swam and cuddled in the shallows, caressing each other intimately while our hands and bodies were hidden from view beneath the surface.

Before we headed to the shopping precinct for lunch, Ron dared me to remain topless as we walked along the street. I felt very self-conscious at the start until I noticed that several other women were doing exactly the same and they certainly didn't have the curvaceous good looks that I did. I received many whistles and second glances from amorous young French men, which made me feel proud to be able to display my obvious assets. For the sake of decency I did cover up a little in the café we selected, throwing a thin silk wrap around my shoulders and tying it beneath my breasts. It really only gave the impression of hiding my breasts without preventing them from being seen to any great extent. In fact, it could be said that it emphasised them as my hard nipples were now obvious under the light fabric.

Lunch was delicious, topped off with dry white wine and a coffee. I found I was really enjoying sampling French cuisine and felt that I could certainly become used to this place. After lunch we decided we had done sufficient cooking in the sun for the first day. We didn't want to overdo it and be unable to experience these joys later in the week, and also did not want to forgo our lovemaking due to sore or sensitive skin. So we drove inland for a few hours, observing the quaint villages and orchards of the surrounding countryside, buying some cheese and wine from roadside stalls, and returning an hour before sunset.