Lucky Pt. 06

Time passed quickly at Madam Pomfrey's, there was always something to be done, rooms to be cleaned, clients to be escorted, steps to be scrubbed, shoes to polish. Days quickly turned into weeks, and weeks into months, and before he knew it he'd been there a year. One of the older boys, Mutt, had left, and a new boy joined. Suddenly, he was no longer the 'new boy'. Now he was now just one of the boys, treated the same as all the others and that was something of a relief.

He'd been worried that the altercation at the party with Sylvi might have jeopardised his future as an escort, but Rachel told him that Sylvi said that he'd been provoked and overall had provided an excellent service. As a result, he now worked as an escort maybe once a week, accompanying women to weddings and balls and luncheons, sometimes spending the night and sometimes not. He'd recently started massaging clients, something he'd wanted to do since that night he watched Tully.

He hadn't heard from Eamon in a while. The last he'd heard, his friend was involved in some kind of smuggling gang up the coast near White Horse bay. Apparently they'd been landing barrels of brandy at a small cove in the middle of the night. He'd been told that deep inside a cave there were rough-hewn steps leading up to the cellar of a clifftop inn although as Eamon couldn't swim he didn't want to think too much about his friend fooling around unloading barrels onto slippery rocks in the middle of the night. Still, he was sure his friend would turn up at some point, probably needing help.

It was a bright Tuesday morning when he met Madam coming up the stairs.

"Good morning Lucas, how are you?" she asked as she came to a stop. She was one of the few people in the house to still use his proper name.

"I'm well Madam," he said politely.

"I wonder if you could do me a favour?" she asked, pressing on before he could respond. "My sister and her daughter are coming around to dinner at my house tonight and I need a waiter. I'd ask Tully but he's busy."

"Well I've never really waited before," he replied. He'd hoped to go out to the local inn tonight, but he couldn't really refuse her request.

"Well, it's similar to your work downstairs in the bar, it's really just fetching and carrying, being polite, making sure our wine glasses are filled, shouldn't be a problem for someone of your talents," she said. "And there'll be ten silvers for your trouble."

"Of course, Madam, it would be my pleasure," he replied.

"Thank you Lucas, we'll see you at seven then," she said, favouring him with a rare smile.

Well, at least it would be interesting to see where Madam lived, he thought as he went on his way down to reception.

--

Her house turned out to be a good twenty minute walk away in a very respectable-looking neighbourhood. It was a tall narrow townhouse, the rooms inside split over three floors. Madam let him in, and briefly introduced him to her sister Mira, and her daughter Emma before directing him towards the back.

"Ah Lucky," Cookie said as he entered the small kitchen. "I see you've been roped into this as well, eh?"

Cookie wasn't the tidiest of cooks, and the kitchen was crowded with copper pots, chopping boards, mixing bowls and pie dishes. She seemed to have it all under control though, various pans bubbling away on the large range cooker whilst she skilfully rolled out pastry on the marble worktop.

Lucky polished glasses whilst she rattled about the small kitchen, complaining that she couldn't find anything and that she didn't have the right equipment. Despite all her moaning, the space soon filled with the delicious aroma of steak and ale pie as she rolled pastry on top of the apple pie.

Through the open door, he could see into the sitting room, where Madam was seated in large comfortable looking armchairs sipping wine with her guests. Her sister looked very similar, perhaps in her fifties with a narrow pale face and rather severe look, her dark hair scraped back into a tight bun leaving her shoulders bare above a dark blue dress.

Her daughter looked a little older than him, perhaps twenty two. She wore a silky emerald green dress, cinched at the waist to emphasise her womanly curves and generous bust. Her hair was a rich shade of auburn and centre-parted framing a pretty, rounded face with a pert nose and full lips. She noticed him staring and shot him a frosty look as he entered and made his way to the large dining table.

He couldn't help overhearing the ladies talk as he worked, carefully placing cutlery and napkins on its highly polished surface.

"Oh yes, Emma's very bright, and well behaved, all the teachers at the finishing school say so," her mother was saying. "Her father and I are very proud."

"How impressive," Madam said, sipping her wine.

"Yes, she's passed every exam. DId I tell you she's going to be presented at court in Kings Landing in a few months?"

"I believe you haven't mentioned it once or twice," Madam said, with a polite, thin-lipped smile.

"Oh yes, she's such a good student, and she'll make an excellent wife. Of course, it's so hard to find a good match these days what with one thing and another, but I'm sure we can find a suitable doctor or lawyer, or perhaps even a minor royal," she continued.

Emma sat quietly as her mother mapped out her future, and he got the impression that her views on the matter weren't that important to her mother.

When he returned to the kitchen, Cookie was taking her pie out of the oven and the vegetables off the boil, and he invited the ladies to take their seats at the table.

"Well, this looks very, um, rustic," Mira said as he brought in the first course, which was large helpings of steaming pie with boiled potatoes and carrots. "Of course, we're used to more refined dining in Kings Landing but this looks very good, very, um, regional."

"Cookie's used to cooking for the boys," Madam explained, sounding a little embarrassed.

Lucky made sure their glasses were full, and returned to the kitchen. He said 'goodbye' to Cookie who was on her way out, her job complete now that the food was ready.

In truth, he'd been a little nervous about a job where his every move seemed to be scrutinised by Madam and her rather snobby sister but everything was going well at this point. And it continued to go well up to the point where he brought out dessert. He was filling Emma's wine glass when it happened.

Her dress was also off-the-shoulder, but cut quite low, exposing a distracting amount of her generous cleavage and he couldn't resist a quick glance down,admiring the way her breasts bulged against the emerald green satin as he filled her wine glass. It was then that he felt it, her hand sliding along the back of his thigh. He was facing away from Madam and her sister so they were quite unaware as she slowly slid it higher along the inside of his thigh, casually rounding the curve of his muscular buttock before giving it a firm squeeze. The shock of it in this formal setting caused him to jump and he spilled a little wine.

"I'm so sorry, Miss, ladies," he exclaimed, grabbing a napkin and dabbing at the tablecloth as her mother flashed him a stern look.

"That's fine, it's white wine so it won't stain," Madam said.

"How clumsy," Emma exclaimed, her neutral expression betraying nothing as he felt his cheeks flush red.

"Yes, well with the shortage of young men, you must find it difficult to get good staff," he heard her mother whisper loudly to Madam as he returned to the kitchen.

--

Lucas had finished the washing up and was just putting the last plate back in the wooden rack when Madam popped her head around the door.

"Thanks for tonight, could you just do me one more favour before you get back?"

"Certainly," he said, although he'd been looking forward to getting back to the house and putting his feet up.

"Could you take a cup of warm milk up to Emma's room? Apparently, she always has one before bed, it helps her sleep. Oh, and her mother has been quite particular about it being warm rather than hot."

"Of course, warm not hot," Lucas repeated, forcing a polite smile as he bent down to search for a small saucepan.

He ascended the stairs, being careful not to spill the milk. The first floor where Madam and her sister were sleeping was quiet and he was glad he'd taken his shoes off to lessen the noise as started up the second flight of stairs towards the top floor, which were designed to house servants. As he climbed, he passed tasteful paintings; some formal portraits of serious-looking men and women, some more whimsical depicting distant, mythic lands populated with satyrs and nymphs.

"Your milk, Miss," he said, knocking gently on the door.

"Yes, come in, boy," came the reply.

He stepped into a small room the ceiling sloping away on one side, the light from the gas lamps giving it a warm, cosy feel. The space was dominated by the bed, which had an elaborate carved headboard, a large wardrobe and floor-standing mirror off to the left, and a small nightstand on which he could see her earrings and necklace, as well as a candlestick and an inkwell. A large, thick red-and-brown rug covered most of the bare floorboards.

Emma was sitting on the edge of the bed, and he was surprised to see that she'd already changed out of her formal dress into a silk nightgown, the same dark green in colour with elegant floral patterns picked in gold thread. It looked like the kind of expensive garment that was imported from Volantis. She held a hairbrush and it seemed like she'd just stopped using it, the light giving her freshly-brushed hair a coppery glow as it hung in soft, lush waves over her shoulders.

"Your milk, Miss," he repeated, placing it on the nightstand.

She nodded once, and he turned to leave before she spoke.

"It's Lucas, isn't it? And you work at Auntie's place in town?"

"Yes, that's right Miss," he said, adopting the stance when he was working at the bar at Pomfrey's; standing up straight, hands clasped and pressed into the small of his back.

"What's that like?" she said, taking the opportunity to slowly look him up and down from his dark socks to his olive green waistcoat.

"It's hard work, but I don't mind that. It's much better than the life I had before, living on the streets. The other lads are nice, I've made friends there."

"But isn't it a bit degrading, having to pander to all those old women? I can't imagine what it would be like to be paid to pleasure men. Just awful."

He was tempted to explain that not everybody was able to choose how they made their living but he bit his tongue.

"I mean, it's not that bad. And the women aren't that old."

"Oh, come now, I've seen some of Auntie's friends. They're ancient! They're so elderly and infirm you're virtually doing charitable work!"

"Really, I don't think they're as old as perhaps you imagine, Miss."

"Hmm," she said, sounding unconvinced. "Men are never any good at judging a woman's age. Don't you ever want to spend time with someone younger?"

There was a pause as she lent forward, a teasing smile on her face as if it were a test of his reactions. He was sure that if he took the bait, it would just give her an excuse to say something cutting.

"Do you mind if I ask you something, Miss?"

"Certainly," she said, meeting his gaze.

"Why did you, well, touch me earlier?" he asked, looking her up and down. She looked prettier up close and with her hair down, her skin glowing in the soft light, a faint spray of freckles across the bridge of her pert nose gave her a cute, elfin look that contrasted with her rather arrogant demeanour.

"Oh, I don't know, I was bored I suppose," she sighed. "All that talk of the people mother and auntie used to know, how the city has changed, all that talk of business, it was tiresome.I suppose I was being a little mischievous and just wanted to see how you'd react," she continued, with a grin. "I know you spilled the wine a little, but you did well to keep a straight face, boy."

"And you thought you had the right to grope me?" he said, thinking of the incident in the bar with Tully. He was a little angry but mainly just genuinely interested in why wealthy women felt they had the right to handle him whenever and wherever they wanted.

"Did it upset you? You poor thing," she mocked. "Given your occupation, I would have thought you were used to it. Anyway, you're being paid good silver to be here tonight, to serve us, to give us whatever we want. I don't see the problem."

"I am being paid, but you can't just grab people."

"But I did, and nobody stopped me, so evidently you're wrong. Listen, there are those who give orders, and those who follow orders, that's just the way it is," she said, spreading her hands as if there was nothing she could do.

"I'm not sure it's as simple as that," he said, trying to suppress the anger that had started to well up inside him.

"Oh, I assure you it is. Do you need an example?"

"Well..."

"Listen, mother insisted on taking me on a rather long tour of the neighbourhood where she grew up and it took all day, and now my feet are aching. Perhaps you could rub them for me?"

"I really should be getting back," he said, glancing at the door, his feet were aching a little as well and he was eager to be away.

"I really do think you should help me out. It's in your interests to keep me happy, I mean what if I were to tell Auntie Helen about your attitude, hmm? Let's say I said you were unhelpful or rude, you wouldn't get paid, would you?"

Lucky paused, weighing his options. It annoyed him that she was playing games like this, but he really did need that money. He said he'd go out with Tully in a couple of days and he'd promised to introduce him to some of the maids he knew.

"Of course Miss, but not for long," he conceded, watching as she kicked off a pair of matching embroidered slippers and waved a naked foot at him.

"Shall I sit here?" he said, gesturing at a chair.

"No, no, on your knees." she insisted, her crimson lips curling into a triumphant smile as he reluctantly knelt at her bare feet, his knees sinking into the soft rug.

"Good boy," she said, as he reluctantly took her foot in his lap.

"You see, that wasn't difficult was it? I gave you an order, and you followed it, no need for a fuss," she said, watching as he gently kneaded her foot, clasping it in his large hand and using a thumb to circle the sole. He'd been allowed to massage a few clients and tried to use what he'd learnt, applying a firm, steady pressure as he worked over all the different areas, massaging each toe, then slowly working along her sole towards the heel.

"Hmm, you are rather good at that," she said, her voice sounding softer and breathier as he started on her other foot. "I can see why all those grandmothers are willing to pay for your time."

He ignored her jibe, continuing to work in slow, steady circles.

"Yes, if my education has taught me anything it is that society really is very simple. There are masters and servants. Those who are educated and groomed to lead, and those who are not. Those who issue orders and those who follow them," she said, continuing her train of thought as he worked.

He lifted her foot a little higher as he worked his thumb into the fleshy pads at the base of her toes drawing a contented sigh from her. Her gown slid a little higher as she wriggled happily, exposing more of her smooth, shapely legs as he worked.

"So how does it work at Auntie Helen's? Are clients chosen for you?" she said, as he worked one hand higher, massaging the firm muscle of her calf.

"Yes, well I suppose they choose us really," he replied.

"I see, and they hire you for balls or parties or suchlike?"

"Yes, we accompany them, dance with them. Sometimes we're hired as waiters or masseurs, sometimes we're hired by a group of women, it varies quite a lot, it depends what the lady wants," he said, his hands inching higher, enjoying the feel of her soft skin.

"And what if they want you to spend the night? To share their bed?" she asked, playfully sliding her other foot along his leg, examining the firm muscle of his thigh.

"Then we do our best to please them, to give them what they want," he said. Despite her attitude, she did have fine legs and he couldn't resist leaning forward and planting a kiss on the inside of her knee.

"And you're good at meeting their needs?" she asked.

"That's not for me to say, but I've had no complaints," he said, gently easing her knees apart a little, and planting a line of warm kisses along the pale skin of her thigh. He felt his cock stir as she eased her foot higher, gently rubbing along the top of his thigh.

"No complaints, eh? Auntie Helen said you were a bit of a rough diamond. I'm sure you're quite the stud," she chuckled, easing her gown apart to show an ivory silk camisole and matching bloomers flowing like liquid over her feminine curves. "Why don't you take that shirt off so I can see for myself?"

She watched as he quickly slipped off his waistcoat and unbuttoned his shirt, shrugging it off his broad shoulders.

All those hours in the gym had paid off, and Emma seemed impressed as she leaned forward and ran her fingers over his square shoulders then down over the solid contours of his pectorals. He felt her fingers on the back of his neck next, her fingers twisting in the hair. He let her pull his head back so that his face tilted upwards as she pressed her lips against his, drawing him into a passionate kiss. As she pulled back, he slid a hand along her leg, caressing her beneath the thin silk, feeling the humid warmth between her thighs.

She squeezed his firm bicep then ran her fingers along his ribs tracing the faint scars there as his hand massaged her pussy, exploring the groove of her cunny through the thin silk.

"Very nice, I concede you're good with your hands but how's your tongue?" she continued, sliding to her feet, and easing her bloomers down with a wriggle of her well-rounded hips. Lucas picked them up and placed them on a chair as she sat back down on the edge of the bed.

She spread her thighs invitingly as he leaned forward, softly kissing her downy thighs. She had a lovely pussy, her neat lips a shade of pink darker than the surrounding skin below a triangle of short curls, bronze against her pale skin. Her labia already looked a little swollen, glistening a little in the gas light, despite her cool demeanour it seemed his foot rub had already had quite an effect on her.

He could smell the distinctly musky, feminine aroma of her arousal as she pulled him forward, bending one leg over his shoulder. He started licking her slowly, letting his tongue drag slowly along her soft lips, lingering there, exploring the contours of the swollen peaks and moist valleys. He'd learned over the last year that it was important not to rush into this, to take his time, to give the client time to come to a simmer. He experimented with different styles as she lay back and watched: twisting his head and gently sucking at her juicy lips, sometimes lapping at her hungrily, sometimes gently circling her clit with the tip of his tongue. He tried different spots too: sometimes licking the bottom of her slit, his tongue straying along her perineum, sometimes at the top, gently using the tip to stimulate her clit.

He listened to her reactions, adjusting his technique in response; sometimes lightly flicking his tongue back and forth, sometimes stiffening it and probing between the soft folds,sometimes sucking at her outer lips, drawing them into his mouth and massaging them with his restless tongue.

He'd come to enjoy pleasuring women with his tongue, enjoying their soft sighs, of giving them pleasure in perhaps its purest form. He'd learned that it was important to enjoy the journey, rather than rush hastily towards the destination and so he savoured her taste, her subtle musk, part salty, part sweet, lapping at her juices hungrily as her hips began to push upwards, demanding more and more as her breathing quickened.