Michelle smoothed the front of her black dress over her toned belly and looked in the mirror, critically eyeing her figure. Despite two, now grown, children, twenty years of marriage and an acrimonious divorce she was, at forty-five, still striking. Her breasts rode high and firm, without any assistance from surgery and, while they were only a b-cup, she knew that men and women enjoyed touching and sucking upon them, especially when they saw her erect, coffee-coloured nipples standing proudly from the pale flesh.
Reaching upwards, she quickly and deftly coiled her waist-length chestnut hair into a neat chignon, sliding a pair of lacquered bamboo slivers into the knot to secure it in place. Perching on the edge of the stool in front of her dressing table, she rolled silk hold-up stockings along her legs, settling the tops snugly against her thigh. Slipping her feet into high heeled pumps, she glanced at her reflection again. Her eyes were clear and widely spaced, the irises the grey of a storm cloud, although she was famed for her cheerful nature and her slow temper. Her lips were full and plump, parting easily in a smile that displayed expensive, undetectable dentures.
Michelle glanced at the handful of cosmetics on the top of the dressing table, including a new, bright red and expensive lipstick that her daughter had persuaded her, well bullied her really, into buying. She reached out, picked it up and, before her nerve could desert her, smoothed it over her mouth, pouting gently and then dabbing it away with a tissue. She dabbed a little perfume on her wrists and in the hollow of her throat, then slipped the bottle, lipstick and a small powder compact into her purse.
She got to her feet and glanced at the expensive wristwatch she wore. It was almost half past the hour and her cab would be arriving any minute. She swallowed nervously and thought, for a moment, of the bottle of white rum in the drinks cabinet downstairs. She shook her head and gathered her purse from the dressing table, before making her way down the stairs.
It seemed like a different world, only last month, at the travel agency where she worked, when she had confided in Carole about her mounting debt. She was not naturally or hugely extravagant but her salary was based on commission and people were just not spending as much on holidays as they used to. Carole had sympathised and promised to tell Michelle if she had any ideas that could help her.
A couple of days later, as they were closing the blinds and settling down to tidying the office after a long and not particularly successful day, Carole had made her suggestion.
"'Chelle, "she asked, "Were you serious when you said you needed more cash badly?"
"Carole, you wouldn't believe how serious." Michelle replied, "Why? Have you thought of something?"
"I'm not sure, I should tell you. Whatever you decide, you have to keep this between you and me. No one else must ever know." Carole continued.
"What is it? Have you stolen from the accounts? What?"
"Nothing like that! You know Paula, the cabin crew who comes to us for the overseas hotels when she goes on holiday? Well I was asking her how she managed on her pay, especially when she stays at the top hotels. She told me that she offers her services as a companion to wealthy businessman, when she's between flights."
"You mean for sex?"
"Sometimes, some of them are really just lonely and want dinner with an attractive woman. Anyway, she was saying that one of her regular visitors was in town and had a friend with him. The girl she usually took with her had the 'flu and she asked me if I would like to make some easy cash."
"What did you do? Did you go?"
"I said yes, I went with her and he turned out to be quite a nice guy. We had sex, I stayed in his hotel the night, and I left him before breakfast the next morning, with five hundred in my purse."
"But I'm not good-looking like you and I'm nearly twenty years older than you are. Who would be interested in me?"
"These men don't want some young model; they're after someone who can make them feel relaxed and good about themselves. You are just what a lot of them would go for. You are attractive and you can make pleasant conversation. Some of them like to start with dinner, or a show, and they can't spear with some obvious tart hanging on their arm. People would talk and even though a lot of their colleagues know about the sort of things they do, they don't want to spread rumours. Anyway, are you interested?"
"I don't know. Do I have to tell you now?"
"No, it's not like I have someone lined up for you tonight, but I'll need to know if you're game, in case something comes up."
"I guess so."
Yesterday, Carole had rung her after work and told Michelle that she had arranged a client for her. He was a business man who wanted a companion for dinner and company for the evening. She would have done it herself but a regular client, her very first, in fact had called and wanted to see her on the same evening. So, here she was, waiting for a cab to take her to his hotel room, dreading what was to come. Strangely, her dread was not because of what she was going to do, but at the thought that he might not like her.
The cab arrived and Michelle hurried out of the house, locking the door and glancing over the front of the building to make sure everything was secure. She climbed into the back seat and leaned forward to give the driver the address of the hotel. Settling back into the seat, she glanced up and saw the driver's eyes glancing, appreciatively, at her in the rear-view mirror. She flushed a little as she imagined him guessing her intentions for the rest of the evening and her nipples tingled a little. It had been nearly four years since she had last had sex, more accurately had been raped by the violent beast her husband had become.
Too quickly, the cab threaded its way through the early evening traffic to the hotel. Michelle took a deep breath and fumbled in her purse for the money to pay the cab driver, fighting the urge to tell him to turn around and drive her back home. She slipped the bills into his hand and closed the cab door, watching the tail-lights shrink to fiery eyes and then to pin-pricks as the cab drew further into the stream of traffic. Turning, she slowly climbed the wide steps to the main entrance and slipped past the porter as he held the door open for her. The porter smiled attractively and bowed his head at her softly murmured,"Thank you."
The elevator whisked her, discreetly, to the very top floor of the hotel, a corridor lined in heavy carpet with soft, indirect lighting and tasteful prints lining the walls. Her footsteps whispered as she walked, with measured strides, to the very end suite. Glancing at her watch, she noted that she was punctual, almost to the second. Lifting her hand, she tapped lightly on the door and drew a deep breath, as she waited for it to open. She heard the rattle of the lock and the door was opened to reveal her very first client. He was tall, clean shaven with very dark brown hair. A spattering of grey at his temples and a pair of thin-rimmed spectacles made him appear distinguished and benevolent. A tailored evening suit accentuated a still-trim body. His eyes seemed to sparkle and Michelle was intrigued. He stepped away from the door and gestured for her to step inside.
"Good evening, Michelle, is it?" he said in a slightly European accent, "My name is Alex."
"Good evening, Alex, Carole asked me to convey her apologies. I hope you aren't disappointed." Michelle replied.
"Good Lord no! You are delightful and I am sure that the evening will be most enjoyable. But I shall pretend to Carole that I would have preferred to see her."
Carl took her by the tips of her fingers and guided her further into the suite. The drapes were drawn back from the windows and, on the balcony; a table was set for two with gleaming silver and chinaware. A bottle of champagne rested in an ice bucket. Carl deftly twisted the cork from the bottle and poured a thin, golden stream of champagne into two tall flutes. Handing Michelle a glass, he lifted his own and, smiling, sipped a little of the champagne. Michelle raised her own glass and sipped. The wine was ice-cold and delicately flowery. She sipped and let the foaming bubbles slip down her throat.
"The wine is to your liking?" Carl asked her, in a soft, caressing tone.
"Certainly, "she replied, "It's delicious."
"Good," he smiled, "I thought, perhaps we could have dinner here? I'm not terribly good with crowds and, having seen you, I must confess that I would rather not share you with a restaurant full of other people, many of whom you will find much more attractive than me."
"I should like dinner here very much. I think you are flattering me." Michelle smiled, "Besides, there may be others more attractive to the eye, but I doubt that they could be more gallant.
Carl smiled and, taking Michelle's hand, led her to her seat, making sure that she was comfortably seated, and then sitting opposite. He passed the menu to her and opened his own. After a moment, he closed the heavy card and sat, watching her. She made up her mind quickly and looked up.
"Actually, I'm not really very hungry," she told him, "perhaps the sole and a little cheese and fruit?"
"Excellent!" Carl exclaimed. "I shall have the same."
Picking up the telephone on the table, he relayed their order to the room service waiter and settled back. He looked relaxed and confident, watching her with an amused, slightly quizzical smile. She smiled back, looking at the easy curve of his lips and the delicate taper of his fingers. She blushed for a moment as she imagined how it would feel to be touched by those hands, to feel those lips on her skin. To hide her confusion she lifted the glass to her lips and moistened them with a drop of the champagne. Over the rim of her glass, she noticed his gaze on hers, amused and inviting her to confide in him.
"What?" Michelle asked.
"I didn't say a word," Carl replied.
"No but you were going to ask something." Michelle countered.
"I just wondered why I had not seen you before. Why you came to see me." Carl murmured, just loudly enough for her to hear.
Michelle opened her mouth to utter some plausible falsehood but, instead, found herself confessing her monetary problems and the failure of her marriage. Throughout her tale Carl listened, an intense sympathy sketched in the lines of his face and the sparkle in his eyes dimmed for the moment.
"I'm sorry," Michelle finished, "You don't want to hear my sob story."
Carl said nothing for a moment, then slipped his hand beneath the lapel of his dinner jacket and slid out a bulky envelope, passing it over to her. She opened her purse and slid the envelope inside, without looking at it, or checking the contents. Carl smiled at her and reached over with the champagne bottle to top up the liquid in her glass.
"Aren't you going to count it?" he asked, smiling.
"No, I think I can trust you."
Carl blushed in turn and Michelle took her opportunity to ask a question of her own.
"Why do you do this? Pay a woman to be your companion for the evening I mean." she asked.
Carl pondered for a moment, "I suppose it's sort of honesty," he said, continuing, "I would rather pay a lady for her company than play games, taking her out, buying her dinner, wondering if she will invite me in at the end of the night. This way, you know what to expect and I know that I'm not going to spend half the evening being bored by some film or play, in return for a peck on my cheek."
There was a tap on the door and momentarily, they were interrupted as the room service waiter pushed a cart, with their meals on, onto the balcony. Plates were slid onto the table, redundant cutlery and glassware were whisked away and the waiters left, handsomely rewarded.
They ate in comfortable silence, only the distant hum of traffic below intruding on the quiet velvet of the night. The fish was perfectly cooked, accompanied by tiny new potatoes and fresh vegetables. Michelle ate delicately, without realising that Carl was watching her beneath his long, almost feminine lashes. They pushed their plates aside and selected a few grapes and a sliver of cheese. Carl pushed his plate away and leaned back, waiting for Michelle to finish.
"Coffee? A liqueur?" he asked.
"No thank you." Michelle replied, shaking her head gently.
Carl pushed his chair back and moved around to draw Michelle's seat away from the table. As he stood behind her, Carl gently kissed Michelle's neck, tasting the sweetness of her skin and a hint of her bitter perfume. His lips felt like fire upon her skin, sending sparks along her nerves that seemed to settle in her belly. His lips brushed the curve of her bare shoulder and she felt her nipples harden, pressing against the silk of her dress. She swallowed a sigh, as his hands rested lightly on his shoulders, before he took hold of the chair back and slid her chair away from the table. She stood and turned to face him, stepping inside the circle of his arms and catching the subtle miasma of expensive cologne, light, yet sharp and masculine.
Carl dipped his head to kiss the angle of her jaw but Michelle turned her head, so that their lips met, and opened her mouth. His tongue slipped inside and she could taste his tongue as she sucked gently, drawing him into her mouth. She felt his surprise in the lift of his eyebrows and the hesitancy of his mouth. She did not realise that none of his companions had offered him their mouths to kiss before. Slowly he became surer of himself, almost as thought he was rediscovering the pleasures of a kiss, and he began to kiss her mouth slowly and deeply. Michelle sighed into his mouth and melted against him.
Michelle could not help herself, her body betrayed her and she felt herself responding to him. The thought of the money in her purse merely added to her excitement as he held her close and slid his tongue between her lips. Gasping, they broke apart and then he led her back into the suite. The night was warm and they left the windows open, the hum of late night traffic a counterpoint to their unspoken communication.
Michelle followed him into the bedroom, where Carl turned her to face him, pulling her gently into his arms and kissing the base of her throat, as she arched her neck to invite his kiss. He found the zipper with the tips of his fingers and slowly drew it down her spine, the soft material peeling away like gossamer. His fingers burned against her shoulders as Carl pushed the straps of Michelle's dress down her arms, the hem of the neckline catching, for a moment, on the hard buds of her erect nipples. Michelle's breath froze in her throat as she felt the tug of the cloth and Carl slid his hand over her breast, catching the nipple between his fingertips and circling the base, slowly, with one nail. Gently he pushed the dress lower, freeing her breasts and letting the material slide down her hips to fall around her feet.
Michelle pushed the jacket off Carl's shoulders, running her fingertips over the smooth cotton of his shirt, feeling the heat of his chest through the material. She tugged at the bow of his necktie, unfastening it and letting it drape down the front of his chest, tilting her face upwards and offering her mouth for him to kiss again. Their lips met as her fingers danced along the buttons of his shirt, unfastening them and spreading the material wider, so that her breasts were pressed against his chest, the tightly curled hairs prickling her gently. Her hands moved lower, fumbling for a moment with his belt buckle, loosening his pants and sliding inside to cup the bulge in his boxers. Carl groaned quietly into her mouth as she cradled his heavy sac in her cool fingers, savouring the weight and heat of his manhood. Carl's trousers slid to the ground and he kicked them away. Then he lifted his hands to her shoulders and pressed her downwards. The pressure was gently but insistent and Michelle sank to her knees in front of him. The angry red head of his cock was pressing against the silk of his boxers, tenting it towards her face.
Reaching out, she teased the waistband of his boxers over the engorged, swollen head of his cock, drawing them down to his ankles and letting it spring upward, pointing to her mouth. For a moment, her mind was filled with the memory of her ex-husband, his hand twisted in her hair as he forced his thick cock into her mouth and to the back of her throat. Michelle closed her eyes as the memory of his rape of her mouth and throat, and the sour unwashed smell of his cock flooded into her mind. She was about to struggle back and leap to her feet when Carl stroked her head and the light caress of his fingers shattered the dark enchantment of her memories. She opened her eyes and the smell was replaced by a sweeter, clean, aroma with the faintest tang of musk. She could see that Carl's cock, though long, was slender and gracefully formed and suddenly she felt a surge of need to taste it, to touch the tip of her tongue to its head and capture the tiny gem of clear pre-cum that had appeared in the dark opening.
Michelle leaned forward and gently pressed her lips against the velvety glans, flicking the tip of her tongue into the tiny opening. His pre-cum oozed gently onto her tongue, tart and sweet, like the juice of a rare and exotic fruit. She opened her lips and slid his cock onto her tongue, moistening it with her mouth. She could feel his hand tremble as he stroked her hair, sliding out the hairpins, so that it tumbled about her shoulders. His cock was hot and hard in her mouth as she ran her tongue over the tip and around the shaft. Carl groaned, deep at the back of his throat and his cock stiffened in her mouth. Michelle pulled her head back; slipping the tip of his cock from between her lips and blew on the damp glans. Her hand cupping his balls felt them tighten and she opened her mouth wider, sliding his cock over her tongue, to the back of her mouth. She swallowed and pressed her head a little further forward, sliding his cock into her throat. Carl groaned as he felt the ripple of her throat, as she swallowed his cock, against his glans. His cock jerked and he grunted as thick creamy sperm pumped from his cock into her throat. Michelle swallowed again and again, gulping his cum into her belly. Slowly his cock softened and Michelle slid it from between her lips. Standing up, she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him, turning her face upwards to look at him. Carl dipped his head and kissed her, slowly pressing his tongue between her lips, tasting himself on her mouth.
Carl led Michelle over to the bed and gently laid her on the covers, spreading her legs gently and slipping the heels from her stockinged feet. Propping himself on one arm he looked down upon her and slowly began to stroke her ribs, just beneath her breasts. He leaned further over and kissed her again, while his hand slid onto the swell of her breast and his finger and thumb caught her erect nipple. Slowly he stroked the base and the shaft of her nipple with his finger and thumb, feeling it harden and swell under his caress. Then his hand slipped across to her other breast, his finger and thumb pinching the nipple gently, but hard enough to make her draw her breath with a hiss of excitement.
Michelle moaned into Carl's mouth and, encouraged, he slid his hand over the gentle curve of her belly, until his fingertips rested on the edge of her panties and then slipped under the delicate lace. The neatly trimmed hair that covered her pussy was sodden with the moisture that had oozed from between the tender lips, betraying the excitement that burned in her belly. Carl's hand moved lower and Michelle arched her back, pressing her swollen mound against his hand, trying to draw his fingertips inside her. She reached down and pushed her panties down, wriggling to ease them over her hip bones. A kick of her ankles and the panties fell away, leaving her naked, save for her stockings.