Sarah's First Day

"They were telling me it's your first day. You can get changed behind that screen over there, " Emma said, pointing. "Anything you want to know, just ask. It's probably a good idea if you change straight away. They'll all be arriving soon. I think there are six of us on tonight. It was going to be seven but Charlotte rang in to cancel."

Sarah thanked her and went behind the screen. She took off all her clothes. She first put on her panties, a scarlet thong. Dressing as a whore. She looked at the matching red bra. "What for?" she asked herself, and left the bra in her bag. She had had no doubt about which dress to bring. She had not worn it very often and not for some time. It was scarlet and made of a synthetic satin that fitted very tightly down to the hips then flared out to a short, pleated skirt. It had a round, high neck and zipped up the back. The dress was even tighter than she remembered and she could get the zip only about half way up. Leaving it, Sarah put on her shoes, also scarlet, with high heels, then gathered her things in her bag and stepped back into the room. She caught Crystal's eye. "Would you mind zipping me up, please?" she asked.

Crystal came over and said, "Turn around and let me have a go." Sarah turned, and Crystal tugged the panels of the dress together and zipped to the top.

"Thanks," said Sarah, and turned round.

"Wow!" said Crystal. "You couldn't get it any tighter if you tried. Don't breathe too deep!" and she laughed. There was a full-length mirror on the wall, in addition to the one above the makeup table. Sarah turned and looked at herself in it. Crystal was right. She must have put on a kilo or two since she had last worn it. The outline of each breast was clearly visible. Her nipples stood out in little points.

Both makeup tables were empty for the moment and Sarah sat down at one. She did her hair first, brushing it back from her face as she normally did. She surveyed herself. Her skin was clear and a very pale olive colour, almost pure white. She applied foundation, not heavily but more than she usually used, and a very light blusher under her cheekbones. Then she did her eyes. She used eyeliner and mascara, and on the lids a brown shadow. She had been taught always to use a brush to apply lipstick, and she used one now to paint very carefully a line of deep crimson around the edges of her lips. Then she painted in the remainder, brushed her hair again and inspected the result.

Her appearance was transformed from what she had seen in the bathroom mirror that afternoon. Then she had been an ordinary girl, pretty enough she supposed, but nothing extraordinary. Now she looked almost like a doll. Her hair was thick and very dark brown, almost black, as were her eyes, and they contrasted strikingly with the paleness of her skin. The liner around her eyes made them look enormous. Her mouth was a vivid, glossy, crimson gash. In the mirror she was all contrasts: scarlet dress, white skin, crimson lips, black eyes and black hair. The whore.

As she had worked at the mirror more girls had arrived. Four of them came in together. Sarah was introduced as Sheree so many times she began to get used to the name. She managed to remember the names Cindy and Dionne but she missed the other two. Another girl arrived a little later who was Brandy. While all the arrivals were happening, Crystal was trying to explain how everything worked, showing her packages of condoms and tissues, towels, lubricant, talcum powder... it went on and on. Sarah thought she took in most of it.

But not all of it. She couldn't concentrate properly. The sexual desire and the fear that had been with her all day had become intense. She was on edge, attenuated, listening all the time for the sound of the door, waiting for Sophie to appear and say that a − what? a customer? a client? a man? − had arrived. A man who was going to inspect her like a piece of merchandise and decide whether he wanted to fuck her or not.

This was being a whore. Again her body clenched at the word. She began to clear away her makeup kit.

There was a loud buzz which Sarah realised immediately must have been triggered by the door opening. The hubbub of the girls' chatter subsided immediately and the sound of indistinct voices could be heard through the open door of the room; Sarah recognised the voice of Carla, the receptionist, and the other was a man's voice. Then after perhaps half a minute's moment's silence, Carla appeared.

"OK," she said. "One guy, nothing unusual, name of Tim. Hasn't said what he wants yet. Are you ready, Emma?"

Emma stood up, leaving her cigarette burning in the ashtray, and adjusted her clothes. She was medium-sized, about 25 by the look of her, short dark hair. She wore a red tank top that was tight enough to show that she had no bra beneath it although her breasts were not large, and red jersey tights. Her bottom was large and the tights clung to it, clearly showing the cleft between her buttocks. As far as Sarah could tell she was wearing nothing beneath the tights. At the front her pubic triangle was clearly defined, with the seam between her legs cutting into her cunt. Above the waist she looked quite ordinary; below it she looked like a cheap slut. "Back in a second," she said as she left.

She was right about the time; it seemed to Sarah that Emma had hardly disappeared before she was back in the room and dropping back into her chair. "Seems OK," she said. "Didn't say much. Off you go."

Sarah was startled. She stood up, looked around for her handbag, then realised she didn't need it and hesitated for a moment, not quite knowing what to do. Then she collected herself. "OK," she said, "Back soon."

She walked out the door. She heard the girls' voices behind her, presumably wishing her luck, but she was concentrating on where she was going. She walked down the hallway. Everything seemed to be happening so quickly, and everything looked so ordinary, just ordinary walls, ordinary carpet. She was at the door of the waiting room. It was closed. Should she knock? No. She swallowed, grasped the handle, turned it and walked in.

The lights in the room were not bright but she saw a man standing there facing her. Just an ordinary man, about 30, brown hair, ordinary height, not fat, not thin, not anything. What should she say? What should she do?

"Hi," she said. "I'm Sheree. I know you're Tim. How are you?" She put a smile on her face.

He was looking at her body, top to bottom, appraising her face, her breasts, her hips, her legs. Every man she ever met did that. This one was deciding whether to buy her.

"Hello Sheree," he said. "How are you?"

"OK, thanks." So what now? She gave him another smile. Then without thinking, she said, "Well, this is me," and put her hands on her hips and turned a full circle in front of him, showing herself, making her skirt flare out. "Nice to meet you, Tim," she said with another smile. "See you later, maybe," and she turned and walked out, closing the door behind her.

She had to pause for a moment in the hallway to remember which way to go. She realised that her heart was beating as rapidly as if she had run a race and her whole body was filled with tension. She breathed deeply and walked down to the back room.

He was going to choose her, she knew it. She knew it.

In the room with the other girls again, she sat by herself, hardly seeing the remaining girls leave and return one by one, waiting for Carla to come and tell her what she already knew. Then suddenly Carla was there, and saying, "Sheree, it's you. An hour. I've taken him to the room. Room 4, next to the waiting room. He's showering now, and he's paid. Here."

She held out some money to Sarah, who was still seated. Sarah took it. She was flustered. She felt all the other girls watching her. She stood and looked around herself for her handbag. The room had gone quiet. She found her bag but then had difficulty opening it. Her fingers did not seem to be working properly. Then the bag was open and she put the money inside. Should she have counted it? Should she count it now? She sat down again.

"Smile!" called one of the girls. Was it Crystal? "It's not an execution, love." Sarah tried to laugh, tried to smile. How much longer should she wait before she left?

"Don't worry about it, love," said Crystal. "He doesn't know it's your first time. You've seen him yourself. He's fine. He won't be any trouble. Wait till you get a drunk."

At this the other girls all began talking again, competing with each other about who had had the worst client. It was time for Sarah to go.

In the hallway again where it was darker and quieter she was able to regain a measure of control. She forced herself to breathe normally, but she could do nothing about the pounding of her heart. Her skin felt abnormally sensitive, and she was conscious of the silk of her knickers against the smoothness of her cunt. She could feel as she walked that she was wet. She found the right door. She grasped the handle, turned it and walked in.

Tim was standing in the centre of the room, a towel wrapped around his waist. The towel was damp and clung to him, and she could see the bulge of his genitals between his legs. "Hi, Tim," she said.

"Hi," he replied. Her nipples were hard as pebbles and she felt them against the material of her dress. She was embarrassed by them, as if she were standing naked in public. She felt completely at a loss. She smiled nervously. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm new here. I'm not sure.... Would you like me to get undressed?" Perhaps she shouldn't have said she was new.

He looked at her. "That would be nice," he said.

She put her hands over her shoulders behind her back but could not reach the zipper. "Would you help me?" she asked, and walked over to him, turned, and stood with her back to him. He put his hands on her shoulders and found the zipper, and pulled it down, all the way down to her buttocks. Her dress fell away from her shoulders, and he pulled it down to her waist. "This is where it starts," she thought.

She still had her back to him and she leaned back against him. His hands reached around her and grasped her breasts. She caught her breath as he squeezed them. Against her buttocks she could feel his cock stir beneath the towel. She rubbed her buttocks slowly against it, feeling it stir again, then moved away and turned to face him. Looking him in the eye, she slid her dress and knickers in one motion to the floor. She stood naked in front of him.

"Maybe I shouldn't say this," she said, "but this is my first night."

"Not just your first night here, but your first night ever?"

"Yes."

"Is this your first time?"

"Yes." Why was she confessing this?

He considered this for a moment. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" he asked.

"No," she answered, "but I'm going to do it anyway."

"Why?"

Sophie had asked her the same question. It had been none of her business and it was none of this man's. She looked at him again. He looked nice, kind. She said, "I want to see what it's like. To be a scarlet woman."

A pulse of desire passed through her as she said it. What she had said was not the whole truth. The whole truth was that the thought of what she was doing was almost unbearably arousing.

She stepped forward, pushing her breasts and hips against him, put her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth. His mouth was clean and fresh, thank God, and now she could feel his cock pressing between her legs. Still with her mouth on his, she reached down with one arm and pulled the towel from around his waist and dropped it to the floor. She put her hand on his hip, slid it around to his buttock, and then around the front again. She gripped his cock. It was hard now.

With her other hand, she pushed him gently towards the bed. She watched him lie down on it then lay down herself next to him, facing him. He put his hand on her hip, and she moved slightly so that he could slide his hand between her thighs. She kissed him again as she slid her hand down and began to caress his cock gently. It was large and warm and hard. She felt his hand move down between her legs and she opened them, giving him the access to her cunt that he had paid for. He stroked her, and then his finger slid between her lips and inside her. She opened her legs wider for him. She was as wet as she had ever been. Her clitoris was tingling and each time he touched it she gave an involuntary shudder.

"Just a moment," she said, and rolled over to reach the bag she had left on the bedside table. She found the condom. She knelt on the bed just below his waist and facing him, then moved her left knee in between his legs. He parted his legs and she knelt between then. His cock was directly in front of her and looked huge now that she was this close to it. She tried to tear open the little envelope containing the condom, but her fingers kept slipping and she had to put the corner in her mouth to grip it. Somehow she got the condom out of its package. The room was not brightly lit and it was difficult to see which way the condom unrolled, but she worked it out. She placed it on the top of his cock and began to unroll it, sheathing his cock.

Then, looking in his eyes, she lowered her mouth on to his cock. It filled her mouth. She savoured its size, its warmth, its strength, loving this cock. She had seen pornographic pictures like this: a woman with big eyes looking at the camera, her red lips wrapped around an erect cock. She put her tongue against the tight skin at the base of the head, rasping her tongue against it as much as she could through the membrane of the condom, and felt his body tense sharply. Slowly she moved her lips up and down the shaft, taking the head as far into her mouth as she could. With her mouth she made love to his cock. She looked at him again with his cock between her lips: his face was strained, almost as if he were in pain, but at the same time ecstatic. She was controlling this man. She put her fingers around the base of his cock and rubbed slowly and gently up and down the shaft as she rasped her tongue against the underside again and again. She was a whore servicing her client. Her cunt kept clenching and she put her left hand between her legs and gripped it, stimulating her clitoris. She was on the verge of orgasm.

She heard him ask, "Now?"

She did not reply but drew her lips and tongue up the length of his cock and off it, then turned around so that they were both lying in the same direction on the bed. She rolled on her back and opened her legs for this man. He moved above her and between her legs, his cock nudging her thighs and belly and cunt. She reached down and took his cock in her hand placed it between the lips of her cunt. Slowly he slid it in. It seemed immense and she gasped as she felt it push insistently up inside her, huge, filling her. It slid against her clitoris and pressed hard against it. She knew she was right on the edge. She was panting hard, absorbed in the sensation of his cock inside her and pressing against her clitoris. She realized he was saying something. What was he saying?

"So that's it," he was saying.

"What? That's what?" She was finding it difficult to understand him, to concentrate on anything but his cock inside her cunt, moving relentlessly against her clitoris.

"Now you're a prostitute." As he said it his cock stroked hard against her clitoris, pressing it, forcing it, and suddenly she was off the edge. She orgasmed immediately, violently. She could not stop herself; her hips jerked and jerked; she tried to say, "A prostitute," but the word would not come out properly. She could only say, "A pros..., " and again, "A pros...." as her cunt convulsively gripped and gripped his cock. Her body was in complete control of her, her hips jerking her cunt up around his cock again and again in full shuddering climax. With a force that made her groan the final spasm came, and she ground her cunt against his cock with all the force in her hips. Then she was done.

But he was not done. She had come too quickly for him. He kept thrusting, kept withdrawing and thrusting, pressing repeatedly against her clitoris, reintensifying her arousal, until suddenly her body burst again into orgasm, a staccato series of jerks of her hips that drew his cock again in deep, deep; and this time with her own final spasm she felt the vastly powerful thrust of his own orgasm as he released his semen inside her and buried his cock up inside her. With her orgasm complete she could say it: "A prostitute. God. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

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Her body was subsiding. There were tears in her eyes; she was crying. She lay underneath this man, Tim, feeling his cock still pulsing inside her. She lay beneath him as he pushed out the last beats of his orgasm and then lay silent, his body heavy on her. They were both sweating.

He spoke first, but as if to himself. "God," he said. "God." Then, collecting himself, "Thank you," he said. "That was unbelievable. Thank you."

Her crying had stopped. She said nothing. She could not speak. They lay silent. She found it hard to think. That had not been the fulfilment of a contract. That had been a fuck. She felt shattered, wasted, spent.

He said, "Perhaps I'd better get off. I'm getting soft."

"I'm sorry," said Sarah. "I didn't mean to get carried away. It's because I'm not used to it. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he said. "Why be sorry? It was wonderful. Wonderful. Thank you so much. I feel honoured."

She felt that she might cry again. She must not cry. She was reaching her hand down between her legs, finding his cock inside her with her fingers in the slippery, sticky wetness, then finding the condom on his cock and holding it in place as slowly he withdrew from her. When he was out he rolled off her and on to his back. On his cock the condom held safely its deposit of white semen. She let go of his cock and he held the condom in place himself as she turned to find the box of tissues beside the bed. She saw the clock. She was supposed to keep time, but she had forgotten to see what time it was when she came in. Oh, well. She supposed she had been there about 20 minutes. It was 10 to eight, so he had until 8.30. What were they going to do?

She pulled three tissues out of the box and handed them to him, then gave him another three. She watched while he struggled to pull the condom off his cock and wrap it in the tissues without its load of semen escaping. When he had finished and wiped himself clean he handed the wad of sticky tissues to her. She put them on the floor beside the bed. She lay down beside him and put her head on his shoulder.

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I would like to thank Literotica volunteer editor MsBerry for reading this edited version of my original story before I submitted it for publication.

Wanda

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