My Freedom Millions

'Of course, William, thank you for reminding me, I was a little bewildered the last time I came here. I am afraid not. I just really need to draw a little cash and look at my accounts please. Perhaps I could pay my respects to Mr. Latham if he is free.'

'Certainly Miss Prendergast, come with me.' He pointed out a little table in a booth near the entrance. 'If you would like to wait here, I will send an accounts manager round to see you and enquire about Mr Letham.'

I looked around and realised for the first time that this was not like an ordinary bank. There were no cashiers. William disappeared through the door and seconds later reappeared telling me that someone would be with me when they had prepared my paperwork. Could he get me cup of tea while I was waiting.

I beamed and thanked him. It was not that I need a cup of tea, but recognised that William liked to offer his help where possible, and was probably fed up of standing outside the front door.

The tea was there almost as quickly as Mr. Bowmore, who had opened the account for me and now brought my statement.

He discreetly showed me where the cheque had been credited, and where the bulk of the money had been withdrawn in favour of the Financial Adviser, leaving a balance of just under a couple of million. I felt my face redden with embarrassment as I contemplated so much money.

I sipped my tea to recover my composure, 'And these debits here?'

'Oh, those are your expenses, hotel, spa, gym and all those expenses authorised by Mr. Ayres.'

Wow, I hadn't realised how much I had spent. I also hadn't realised how much Gary had spent.

At that moment Mr Letham himself arrived. 'Miss Prendergast. Delighted to see you again. Please come into my off ice if you a moment to spare. Thank you John, that will be all.'

'Miss Prendergast, William said something about you wanting cash. Can I get it for you?'

'Thank you John, that would be lovely. Two hundred please.'

We went through to Mr. Lethams office, sat and I declined another cup of tea.

'Mr. Letham, let me come straight to the point. I hired Paul Ayres for a month, which is now up, and to be quite honest, I am a little surprised to see how much he has spent on my behalf. And to some extent, that he has been able to get money for those expenses without me authorising them.'

He shuffled his feet a little.

'Well Miss Prendergast, I suppose to some extent we are remiss here. He does bring us customers like yourselves from time to time, and in the past has always had an agreement that, yes, does enable him to authorise himself the expenses from your account.'

He was starting to squirm. I suspect that being found wanting was not a regular experience for him.

'We shall of course remove him straight away from any authority. I assume his contract for you will be at an end? One thing I must assure you of however is that we do not, never have, and never will, pay any form of introductory fee to Mr. Ayres. I hope that reassures you. '

'Thank you Mr. Letham. It does reassure me and was about to be my next question.' Another small fib, it never occurred to me that they might do so. I had a lot to learn about the City. 'I will speak to Mr Ayres myself tomorrow, so I would be grateful if you could keep that between us until I speak to him.'

'Indeed,' he said. 'I will remove his authority over the account myself immediately.'

'Thank you. I do not intend to cause any sort of fuss about the amount he has spent. I am a little disappointed in him, but I am sure that as a person new to this sort of wealth, as you know, I must be prepared to keep a better eye out.'

I stood to leave.

'Miss Prendergast, thank you for understanding, and yes as a Bank I can say we are grateful for your discretion. You can rest assured that anything, and I do mean anything, that I can do to help you, will be my pleasure. Perhaps it may be possible for you to give us your time for a day at Wimbledon next year. The Bank does own a couple of debentures which are sometimes available.'

'Mr Letham. Thank you. I would love that, and will look forward to it. I am just on my way to see my Financial Advisers who as you know are Johnstone, Johnstone & Son, to talk to them about Mr Ayres as well.'

'While I do not know them personally, they have a first-class reputation. If I can say a word in Mr. Ayres support he has advised you only to pick the best.'

I thought that was a little creepy and obsequious but on reflection, even the Estate Agent, hotel and spa were all first class. I decided at that stage not to give Gary too much of a hard time, even though I was not about to renew his contract.

I had a similar, but less pointed conversation with Lionel Johnson. The paperwork there was much more involved, but I could easily see that Gary had not drawn anything out, and they confirmed that they did not pay introductory fees of any sort. We had agreed the sort of investments to make and I was pleased to see that a couple of weeks in, and they were all in place, a spread of world-wide trusts, with Companies that even I had heard of, a triple A bond fund and even some premium bonds. He ran through the expected charges, again. A reasonable spread of investments we agreed. He would expect it to bring in over half a million a year. They had a resident tax specialist within the company if I would like to meet him. I thought that that was a good idea.

The next day came and Gary was thanked for his work on my behalf. I promised to give him a reference if ever he needed and assured him that he had so well looked after me that I had no need to renew his contract, he had made things so easy for me. As we were about to put the phone down, in a very sweet voice, well, I tried to be sweet, I did say that I had removed his signing authority from the bank account. It went quiet before I put my end of the phone down.

I had been in the house over a month now. I was on very friendly terms with Paul at the bookshop. I had taken my own mug in, to make sure that I got that cup of coffee and I liked to use it two or three times a week. I had even minded the shop for him, and made a sale, on one occasion when he needed to pop out. He had never again offered dinner even though he now knew I was on my own. We were very comfortable together but he was probably more than twice my age and I think we both recognised that.

I had read quite a few books from both his regular and 'erotic' shelves and had indeed donated a couple more books to it, that I picked up elsewhere, with more modern authors like Milan Kundera. I had actually blushed when I gave him The Story of 'O'. And he hadn't even read it. I did notice however that it did not reappear on the shelf for nearly a fortnight after I gave it to him.

I started to look around other old book shops. There were a quite a few in an alleyway off the Charing Cross Road and I soon became quite a regular. Only occasionally did I find any erotica, but there were quite a few early, if not first editions of well-known or interesting books. My first purchase was an Emily Bronte, a first edition of her poetry, some of which I remembered from Uni. It took pride of place, alone at first, on a shelf that I cleared of knick-knacks. It was quickly followed by a first 'Alan Turing - Decoding A Life,' an early 'Ulysses' and a couple of early volumes of poetry by Wilfried Owen and Siegfried Sassoon. My love of books had begun. I started going to auctions usually held monthly and even took a little interest in paintings and sculptures. It was books and particularly poetry that kept me going back. Oh and erotica. I was always on the lookout for a first Lolita, a Tom Jones, or a Lady Chatterly.

But it was the gym that kept me sane. There were not many days when I did not go down there for a class or even half an hour on the machines.

I no longer had Freda massage me twice a week. Her brother Jens met me one morning to apologise that Freda had had an accident in the kitchen, and had burnt her hand with some boiling water. Nothing permanent but she wouldn't be able to massage me that morning.

'Perhaps I could offer instead. I am happy to replace her this morning?'

'Sure, why not?' I knew why not - this was going to be the first time that a man had lain hands on me since James. OMG I was getting wet, just thinking about it. I mentally ran through the clothes that I was wearing. Leotard, leggings, bra, comfortable rather than fancy. I would need to take it off. A black g-string, I could leave on, although it wasn't going to soak up much. Am I overthinking this. Too late now, he is leading me to the room.

He showed me in, and left me to undress. I took it all off, except the g, lay on the bed and pulled the towel over me as usual. Well not quite as usual. With Freda I was used to undressing completely as I did with Ronnie, while she was in the room. And she would place the towel on me, usually just covering the crease of my ass. This time I let the towel cover as much as possible.

Jens knocked and I agreed that I was ready. He came in, lowered the lights, put on the whale songs, one day I will bring him a better tape, and removed his jacket to leave himself in a white, wife-beater vest and white trousers.

He started with my shoulders, just as Frida did and them moved down to my arms before moving onto my back, below the towel. I found myself day-dreaming, or was I merely anticipating, I am not sure but I knew that my g was now just a sopping rag. I wished I had left it off.

He was however, unfortunately, the perfect gentleman. There was never a moment that I caught him moving the towel enough to see my crack, nor feel his hands on the edge of my breasts when I was lying on my tummy.

'How's that. Would you like to turn over please.'

'It's lovely. Really lovely.'

I turned as he held the towel high enough that he would not be able to see my body, and he started again. This time he masterfully moved and slipped the towel around me so that all my important little bits were always covered. I could see, now that he working on my front. He didn't attempt to massage my breasts nor within two or three inches of my puss. I was practically screaming with frustration by the time he massaged my scalp and asked me how I felt.

'Wonderful, thank you Jens. Frida of course, well I guess because she is also a woman, is usually a bit more hands on. That's all. Next time, well we will know each other a little better and perhaps you can treat me a little more, well, ... relaxed perhaps.'

He laughed, 'Miss Prendergast, may I call you, Angela.' I nodded. 'Thank you. I will be honest. You have been coming here for over a month a couple of times a week, one of our best customers. Only with Frida. I was really worried about upsetting you. Maybe you would not like a man, and I would hate to have to tell Frida that I had lost one of her favourite customers.'

'Well,' I said. 'You might have to tell her that anyway.'

He looked worried.

'I would like to do one session with you and one with her, and see how that goes. Will that be okay? I would like you to have another go, but I don't want to upset Frida.'

He laughed. 'She will be delighted. She is much busier than me. Most of the people who come to the gym and here are men, most of whom, of course, would prefer Frida so she will be more than happy providing she does not lose contact with you altogether. You are one of her favourites.'

'That's good. Okay in case her hand is not better, I will book you again for Friday if that's okay. I look forward to it.'

By now I had sat up, wrapping the towel around me, stepping off to go to the shower. I happened to look back at the paper towel covering the bed, to see the small wet stain where I had been laying. I blushed, especially when I saw that Jens had also noticed it. I rushed to the shower leaving him smiling.

Of course, Friday could not come round quick enough. I had spent about forty minutes on the bike and rowing machines and then taken a step class so I was pretty tired and thinking about it, pretty sweaty. I was running tight time-wise to meet Jens so went straight upstairs without showering, knowing that I could have one there.

'Is it okay if I have a quick shower, I may be running slightly late?'

'I am sorry,' said Jens, 'there are a couple of people just gone in. They had a couples special and I am not sure that they are going to be very quick. They were getting a bit touchy-feely when they went in,' he laughed. 'I don't mind a bit whether you are a little sweaty. In fact with the oil, it will make a very slippery experience for a change. Very different from Frida's normal massages.'

Something about the way he looked at me made me wonder if I was in for a treat, or was I just day-dreaming.

'Just get undressed and hop onto the bed. I will give you a quick rub down with the towel before we start.'

I went into the treatment room, quickly took off my leggings, leotard and bra, and then had the panties dilemma. They were much more substantial than last time, although still only a bikini style, but soaking wet. This time caused by sweating. I decided they had to come off, jumped onto the bed and covered myself with the towel. He arrived and gave my back a cursory rub with the towel as it lay on my back. My sixth 'awareness' sense made me think that he might just have exposed the side of my legs a little, and that he already knew I was naked.

'Let me know if you start feeling cold. If the sweat evaporates, you might find it too cool. I will turn off the air-con if so.

He rolled the towel down so hat it was just covering my bottom, already different from last time when he massaged me under the towel. I think he also used more oil. It was certainly very slippery. After some great work on my back, he rolled the towel back over me and patted some of the oil away.

'Are you okay? I will start on your legs, if so.'

'Really fine. Lovely so far. Thank you. Nice and warm. And you were right it does seem to be a bit more slippery. You are doing great.'

Too much praise I wondered? Surely not.

He folded the towel to leave my legs bare. My sixth sense was still comfortable so far. I was conscious that I was keeping my legs together.

He started with my feet. 'Ohhh,' I groaned.

He laughed. 'Great eh.'

I felt my legs relaxing, just a little, as he worked up my left calf.

'Are you okay? Relax, you are still a bit tense.'

He obviously didn't realise that he was only the third male to touch me. Ever. And that included the groping from Gary.

He rolled his hands around my thighs, pulling my legs slightly apart. I realised I was not holding them together. I was literally in his hands.

I still felt that the towel was covering me....but ... Ohh. I flinched as the outside of his little finger moved perhaps just a little higher than expected. Neither of us mentioned it, but did I really move my right leg out a bit more? Yes, I realised. I really did.

He soon moved to the right leg and worked his way up that side. This time I was not exactly shocked when I realised his right pinky was up against my puss. Not hard, Gentle. Who am I kidding not hard enough. I groaned again. He took the hint.

'Okay? If you are comfortable, would you mind if I pulled the towel a little higher. So much easier to get at the glutes'

'Yes.. sure.. okay.. fine,' I squeaked.

He diplomatically realised that this maybe was not quite in my comfort zone, but having asked he was not going to retrace. He did however get another towel to cover my feet and legs, and possibly my...my... pudendam. There I said it. Not a word I often have a reason to use. The other towel he pulled high enough to uncover my buttocks but otherwise keep me covered to the shoulders. I was conscious that if I could have seen myself, I could only have focused on my buttocks. I wondered whether I had lost enough weight yet to make them attractive.

I guess I must have, because Jens attacked them with gusto. Plent of oil, and soon his fingers were biting into the muscles and then ...ohhh... running through my crack. I lost all sense of time. Jens could tell by the noise, and the wet, and probably the smell that I was loving every minute of it. I was sorry that he hadn't actually rubbed my lips specifically and that I hadn't climaxed by the time I felt him patting the towel over the cheeks and asking me to turn over.

I did, while he managed the trick of giving me space while holding the towel high enough not to see.

I calmed down while he massaged my arms and legs again. I could feel myself beginning to heat up again as he got to the top of my thighs. This time my sixth sense told me that the towel was just a little too high, and while I couldn't, I am pretty sure he could see the bottom edge of my labia. I found myself spreading my legs a little. This time his little fingers managed prolonged contact with my puss, accidentally of course.

He pulled the towel back over me as he walked up towards my head.

'Now we come to the embarrassing bit,' he smiled. 'Can I remove your towel and will it be alright if I touch your breasts and nipples? I assure you, it is very normal, well you will know that Frida does so, and I am her Brother.' He laughed.

And so did I 'Well, I have heard some excuses but yes, why not, I have enjoyed it so far.'

'Good. You must always tell me if you are uncomfortable with anything I do and I will stop immediately. And probably apologise... but,' and he laughed again, 'maybe not, if I have enjoyed it too.'

He pulled the towel straight down to the top of my pubic hair, so low on my hips. I groaned as he just stood and his eyes seemed to bore into me. He trickled the oil over me, laughing as it tickled my nipples. He started on the shoulders, but soon he was massaging the edges of my breasts, working his way inwards, but always just avoiding touching the nipples. So very different from the way Frida did it, lovingly but firmly. This teasing was making me very horny, as I suspect Jens knew. Soon however he got there and I groaned again as he squeezed and pinched them, bringing them to life, rock hard.

He massaged my stomach, his hands fluttering over the top of my pubic triangle, before he pulled the towel back to cover me. I exhaled at last. Maybe I had been holding my breath waiting for him to finger me. He massaged my neck and forehead, my scalp and then my ears. I groaned again, and again. I hadn't realised that it was such an erogenous zone. But not enough to climax, I thought.

He whispered in my ear. 'There is still one part that I haven't touched. I mean massaged. It would not normally be included, and I am sure Frida does not take such liberties, but.... I think you have enjoyed everything so far, so if you would like I would happily....?'

He was so much in tune with my thinking that I did not hesitate.

Again, I believe I squeaked, 'Yes please ... I have never... yes please.'

He wasted no time in massaging my lower stomach again under the towel this time. His hands slipped lower and lower, and I found the towel gradually slipping off my breast. I think he may have been using his hip to pull it. His right hand went up to my exposed breast while his left went lower into the tightly trimmed triangle of hair. As his finger first felt my clitoris, I felt his lips pull at one nipple and his fingers at the other.

The towel was slowly disappearing altogether. It slipped onto the floor, leaving me totally exposed. My legs were as wide as I could easily push them, his hand was revelling in the sticky combination of oil and fluids that was my puss. As first one then a second finger pushed into me, I came, and came and came.

He slowly smoothed the towel back over me gently running his fingers over my body and then my head and neck, I felt him kiss my forehead.