The Wooing of a London Soubrette

Grace shrieked, "oh god," before making high-pitched, nasal sounds. Her loins were melting and she was desperately holding out. She couldn't orgasm, she couldn't. She never came at work, she'd save her orgasms for her boyfriends, herself or even Sandy, but not for punters.

But she was coming. Terry's artful fingers were probing deeper, and his joyful sucking on her clit was taking her over the edge.

Warmth, lustful heat, filled her loins and she cried out loudly, the sound echoing off the cold, hard walls of the small room. Her muscles quivered rapidly and her crotch exploded.

Terry smiled at her and continued his gentle touching until she had finished squealing and crying. She was still panting and he moved his face away, drying it on a towel.

They kissed briefly before Grace was snapped back to the present. She was kissing a punter, after he had gone down on her. That was wrong on so many levels and she felt acutely embarrassed.

"Now, what do you want?" Grace asked seductively but Terry just shook his head and kissed her on the cheek. He pressed a "Florence Nightingale" banknote into her hand and leaned into whisper.

"Just lunch. Tomorrow. With you, at this lovely riverside caf‚. It's on me," he replied somewhat cryptically. Grace looked at him, and he blew her a kiss. "Please," he added with a pleading look and left the room, leaving Grace very confused but extremely satisfied.

"He did what?" A couple of the girls, including Sandy, asked in absolute shock.

"He kissed me, massaged me and went down on me," Grace replied, still not quite believing it herself. "Incredible orgasm."

"You lyin' gal," one of the elder workers replied. "Those men don't come in here. We're cheap 'n' we cheerful, love."

"Well he does but I don't know where I am supposed to meet him," Grace answered "Even if I wanted to. Which I don't." Sandy asked to see the ten pound note and Grace passed it to her.

"He has written it on the money," Sandy told her, peering at the faded piece of paper. "Look!"

"Well I am not goin'," Grace replied instantly and Sandy leaned across smiling.

"Babe, you know you will. I've got hours to work on you yet."

"There is no way I will go to meet a John for lunch. No way."

* * * * *

"Is that your cat?" the old woman asked as Grace was shooing it out of the flat. She had spoken to her on an almost daily basis since helping her with the shopping and learnt that the widower was called Ethel.

"No. Well we've been adopted," Grace admitted. "My partner wants to keep it."

"You should let him," Ethel replied and Grace smiled, not correcting her. "Oh, and I've baked some of my Angel Cake, I've put a couple of slices aside for you." Ethel went indoors and returned with a small plate containing two slices of pale yellow cake. Grace smiled and thanked her.

"I need to get going, I'm meeting someone in town soon," Grace replied and poked her head into their flat to call for Sandy who came bolting out, clothed in a beautiful summer dress.

"You know he is coming to meet me not you," Grace teased looking at the beautiful dark-haired girl.

"Yes I know, but I like it. It shows off ..."

Grace looked at the short garment. "Everything."

"Well, yes, everything. And to be honest Grace, you might have made a bit more an effort yourself."

"Be grateful I am going. I still can't believe you've made me," Grace moaned as they turned into the next road. "I am sure you cheated."

Sandy gave a grin. "I don't need to cheat," she lied. "Yo' useless at cards when you've had a drink. And if you really didn't want to come you wouldn't have bet that, would you?"

Grace hummed. "S'pose not."

* * * * *

Grace puffed out her chest and walked up to the tiny caf‚ on the corner of the street. Terry was reading his newspaper and didn't see Grace come up to the little table so she reached down and rubbed his neck.

"You came. I didn't think you would," Terry admitted and Grace smiled as she sat down.

"Sandy made me," she told him honestly and he looked across at the big-breasted, black-haired beauty sat in the corner eyeing them. "But this isn't a date. And I would like to know what you are playing at?"

Terry chortled. "I thought you might."

"Well?"

"I like you, you make me smile. And I split up with Anne, broke off the engagement ..."

"That better not be for me," she replied quickly and he held up his hands.

"No. Not for you. But because of you. I saw that there was someone that I had come across that I was attracted to and liked much much more than my fianc‚e. I couldn't marry her knowing that."

"But Terry. You're a nice guy but I can't go out with my ..." Grace hesitated. She didn't want to refer to him as a punter in front of him and searched her mind for a better word.

"Client?"

"Exactly."

"I know. Which is why I wish we hadn't. I mean it was incredible but I like you, there is something about you that is so very sexy and enchanting."

Grace blushed but she did not like the direction this conversation was taking. She had always avoided dating anyone who had been a punter; it caused too many problems but she was being propositioned again; the last guy in Brussels hastened her decision to leave the city when he got too obsessed.

"It's just you are a client," Grace told him and the waitress emerged to take her order, which brought a temporary halt to their private conversation.

He waited until she left, and then continued. "I know, I thought you would say that. But what can I do to make you want to go on a date with me."

Grace sighed. "Nothin'. I do like you but we crossed that line so there is no going back. But let's enjoy lunch, eh? You're a nice guy and I'll enjoy your company."

Terry groaned and put his hands on Grace's. He was not going to give up that easily. He needed to woo her, but he just didn't know how to make himself irresistible; he had never had to before.

* * * * *

Sandy had given Grace plenty of chastisement and advice since that enjoyable lunch, especially as Grace had admitted she was beginning to be quite fond of him and she had laughed repeatedly over the ninety minutes they had together. Sandy could understand but not agree why Grace refused to date this guy but over the week she had migrated onto other things to talk about (the weather, the traffic, the attitude of the Brits and the exorbitant cost of food being the main gripes.)

They pushed open the door to the massage parlour and the receptionist greeted them warmly.

"Oh Grace," the receptionist said as the teenager passed. "These were dropped off for you fifteen minutes ago by a tall bloke in a suit."

Grace groaned and looked a big bunch of red roses. Sandy took them and opened the card on the bottom, which when Grace refused to read, she broadcast to the entire room.

"Dear Grace. I will admire and want you until the last rose has faded. I'll be at that caf‚ at the same time tomorrow. Terry."

"Oh what's that supposed to mean? Until the last rose has faded," Grace ranted and put the roses down on the desk to go into the small changing room. Sandy stared at the roses, and pulled one out. "Hey Grace, this one is a silk rose. It ain't ever going to fade."

Grace stared up at the ceiling and swore. "What do I have to do?"

"Give him a chance, babe" Sandy told her and she took the flowers into the changing room, full of stale cigarette smoke, to get changed. "Or someone else will."

Grace sighed. "Yeah? Let 'em."

* * * * *

Terry beamed when he saw Grace come up to him, but his smile disappeared when he saw Grace's facial expression.

"What's up?" Terry asked and Grace puffed.

"Isn't it obvious?" Grace flung herself down in her chair. "You have gone from cute and sweet to just scary," Grace told him and peered out from the menu. "Admire you until the last rose faded. What the hell were you thinking?"

Terry bit his lip and shrugged. "It's true though. I will."

"Stop it," Grace said sharply. "Please stop it. We can't date. I can't go out with you because you paid a prostitute for sex." A few heads turned in the restaurant to look at Terry who shrugged it off.

"I know," he replied in a less-audible tone than before. "I know I did. It was a stag night. These things happen. He did too, but he got married yesterday."

"They do happen Terry, but I won't mix business with pleasure. So this has to stop."

Terry wiped his eyes and gave a tortured smile. "If I hadn't have had sex with you would you go with me on a date? A single, solitary date?"

Grace peered back at him and pursed her lips together. "Well, it's a, it..." Grace stammered and then finished quickly, "oh I don't know," and buried herself in the menu. She wiped her eyes and looked back at Terry and shrugged.

"Well I am willing to believe that night never happened, if you are," he asked and she shook her head.

"How can it be the same? And anyway, what I do for a living, most men don't like it." Terry put his hand on Grace's but she just sighed and put on an exasperated tone. "Oh hello love, what did you do this week? Me, I put up five houses. Did you love, that's good. I fucked forty guys. More wine?"

Terry nodded and then put his hand on Grace's. "Well I do know what you do and I still want to take you on a proper date. A show, a meal. I want to get to know you."

Grace sighed and gestured to the waitress to stop at their table to order their lunch. "You are a really nice guy and you will make some girl very happy. But it can't be me, so can we have lunch because I really enjoyed last weekend or are you going to keep on trying to bully me into a relationship?"

"Not bully, just woo," Terry replied and they caught a figure striding towards their table.

"I'm sorry Gracie, but I can't ignore this anymore," Sandy said and pulled up a chair, pushing the waitress out of the way. "You are totally useless with men." Grace screwed up her face at the interruption but Sandy pretended not to notice. "You are. You give incredible sex but you are shit with relationships. I know you can get guys to amazing climaxes and they just love you and your shaved pussy and the smile you give. And you make them happy but you are so shit at actually understanding them." A few heads turned round in the restaurant and Grace buried herself in her seat.

"Now look at him, he has come all this way twice just on the off chance of seeing you. And taken you to lunch and even split up with his fianc‚e because he might be able to talk you into a date. What more do you want from him, Gracie?"

Grace stared at her flatmate. "What do you mean, what more do I want?" Her eyes fizzed dangerously and Sandy gave a weird, angry look.

"Because he likes you. Why not give him a date. You are single, so is he, so give him a go. Just do it one date at a time, but if you don't stop being so cold, you will end up lonely. Men like him don't come along very often."

For only the second time since they had met, Grace was angry at her flatmate. "Sandy," she said furiously. "Just piss off and stay out of it."

"Not until you see sense," she said resolutely and Grace stared at them both, threw her napkin on the table and walked out of the caf‚.

"Grace!" Terry called as she stormed down the riverbank. "Grace, wait!"

Grace turned to face the man with his outstretched hands. "What?"

"I don't want to put pressure on you, but can we at least finish our lunch?"

Grace sighed and saw Sandy behind him. "I'll go back to the flat," Sandy told her in a shocked voice.

"Yeah, sorry Sandy," Grace muttered, but Sandy gave her a forced smile and skulked off into the distance. She swore and kicked a small bollard in anger at herself and Terry watched.

"Please, I didn't mean for her to ..." Terry mumbled and Grace nodded.

"I know," she replied tersely. "It's me. I shouldn't have shouted at her."

Terry looked over at the empty street, and held his hand out towards his lunch date. "Please, can we have lunch?"

Grace smiled at her companion. She sighed, took Terry's hand and wandered back inside the small caf‚.

They were stared by all the patrons as she did; the small argument and storming out of the small eatery had its customers chattering in hushed whispers amongst themselves, especially what they had already announced to the other diners.

"Wedding was lovely," Terry said and she smiled. "Small church just outside Watford. Bluebells in the churchyard, lovely reception. Bride was absolutely beautiful."

"Does she know what went on, on the stag night?" Grace asked and Terry swayed his head.

"She probably has a good idea but she won't care." Grace raised her eyebrows but he just smiled. "He is one of the richest people I know. They live in a big house, have big cars and live well. He keeps bringing home thousands of pounds a week and she doesn't care about the two mistresses he's had or the whores ..." Terry looked at Grace and then added. "But that's not what I meant."

Grace's face warmed. "It's OK. It's just a word. And anyway, I spent most of my time around Europe being a stripper not a parlour girl."

Terry smiled and opened his mouth to speak but then closed it. "Let me guess, you were about to say you'd like to see me do that," Grace added and Terry went sheepish.

"Yeah OK," he admitted with flushed cheeks and Grace took a long sip of her lemonade. "I'd love to capture you on film, you have the most wonderful body. The pictures would be amazing."

Grace blushed. They chatted warmly and affectionately, like old friends, and then walked out onto the river bank and turned down river. Grace had wanted to pay at last half for the meal but Terry refused.

Grace put her hand on Terry's rear and he put his arm over her shoulder.

"So, have you given up on me yet?" Grace asked and Terry peered down at her.

"Do you really want me too?"

"It'll be the absolute no-no. You never date your punters. It just gets messy."

"But I was a one-off," Terry replied and then added. "And it doesn't answer the question."

Grace sighed and grinned. "OK. I'll think about it. Breaking one of my golden rules. I am a little uncomfortable about it but you aren't like any of my normal punters."

Terry smiled. "Will you let me take you out next Saturday?"

Grace took a deep breath and nodded, maybe Sandy was right. What harm can a date do? "Yeah OK. I'll think about it. Maybe next Saturday, a trial date, if you like," she suggested and he smiled. She was being difficult to get but he was getting there, she was softening, slowly.

They parted on the river bank and as Grace went to leave, turned back and looked at Terry. "Hey lover boy. You don't want a flea-bitten, mangy cat to take back to Cheshire do you?"

Terry smiled at her. "No. Not unless it comes with you."

Grace grinned. "I come with a completely different pussy."

Chapter IV

Although Sandy claimed to have forgiven her, Grace still felt incredibly guilty and so dragged her Danish friend to Hyde Park for a picnic the following day. She had been to the bakers and butchers on the way home and fried up some bacon to make sandwiches out of. She added a smattering of cakes and fizzy drink to the hamper and were happily eating the small feast and they lay down on the banks of the Serpentine chatting idly.

"Hey Sandy, he's nice," Grace muttered pointing at a jogger running past.

Sandy chuckled. "And there was me thinking you'd only have eyes for Terry."

"Oh don't start that again. I've said we can go out on a trial date. A sort of this is what we would get if we actually went out."

Sandy sighed. "Only you would come up with that."

"It's try before you buy ... well try before you window shop but it's same sort of thing."

"You are resisting him so much. Just go out with him."

Grace puffed at Sandy. "Yeah well don't start that again. Although he making me think though ..."

Sandy cackled. "Ya see ..."

"About business," Grace corrected her. "He is buying his own business. And we've been all over Europe, had lots of experience. I wouldn't mind running my own business but I couldn't do it on my own."

Sandy turned on the grass and smiled. "Doing what?"

"Massage Parlour. Strip club. Night club. Restaurant maybe. Anything like that."

Sandy nodded. "And you would need a partner to run the business when you and Terry have kids."

Grace sighed. "Who says I want kids?"

Sandy looked at her. "You've told me. And I don't, so it would be ideal."

"Well, I can see myself with a couple of girls."

"Not a little boy then?"

Grace screwed up her face. "I wouldn't know where to begin. I know everything about little girls, but nothing about boys."

"You've dated them for six years," Sandy replied and grinned. "When did you first allow guys to take you out, or stay the night, or sample your delights?"

Grace took a deep breath. "Well I was thirteen, and I wouldn't want to encourage that. I don't know. It's easier with girls as I understand the pressure I was under, but I have no idea what was driving Willie or Sam or George or any of the others."

"Hormones."

"Well yes, there is that. But I couldn't teach him how to do anything except how to go down on his girlfriend ..."

"Or boyfriend."

"Or boyfriend, and that isn't great parenting."

Sandy sniggered. "Anyway, I would want to do that. Any child with one-half Grace genes is going to be pretty good in bed."

Grace giggled. "But I mean it, what about the business. If we work hard this Summer we should have enough to get somewhere nice. It doesn't have to be London."

Sandy nodded and smiled. "Yeah, let's work this Summer and then look. I think that's good."

* * * * *

"Hey, there is a package here for you," the receptionist called out as Grace walked past. Grace doubled back on herself to pick up the parcel and Sandy smiled.

"Not flowers this time, what?"

"Well it doesn't have a postmark so it must have been hand-delivered," Sandy guessed looking over the small box. "Or a motorbike maybe."

Grace sat the package down in the cold room and ran her front door key down the tape. She took out a small card on top in spidery handwriting that she read out.

Dear Sexy,

I hope these fit you.

With affection, Terry

"I can't look," Grace said dramatically and Sandy peered into the box and removed the packaging.

She gasped and pulled out a small green garment, and then another one. "They are silk."

"Silk what?" Grace asked, peeking at them and Sandy unfurled the skimpy clothing. It was a quarter-cup black bra with pea green cups and matching knickers with a high leg and black suspender belt attached.

"I hope he doesn't expect me to wear them all night," Grace murmured poking the bra. "I don't want my nipples unsupported all evening."

Sandy looked at Grace and then at her attire she had prepared for working in the parlour that day. "Oh. Really?"

Grace ignored the pointed comment and continued staring at the bra. "They'll rub on my dress," she whined and Sandy peered into the box.

She made another "oooh" sound and pulled out a see-through garment.

"Let me guess, the dress he wants me to wear."

"Oh Gracie. It's a nightie, look." She unfurled the garment that was a long, sweeping nightdress, completely see-through and with lace trim. It was open at the front and had no arms. Sandy looked at Grace jealously.

"You are so lucky. I wish I had a guy who would be so thoughtful," she mused and Grace sighed.

"Well you can have Terry if you want. I am beginning to have second thoughts," Grace mused and Sandy stared at her wide-eyed.

"You won't," she threatened. "He is the best thing that has happened to you since I've known you. You will let him take you out." Grace deliberated. "It's an order."

* * * * *

The following day, Grace and Sandy tentatively opened the door to the massage parlour and the receptionist smiled as they did. "More of your bloody post," she moaned and passed Grace a letter. It was addressed to her at the massage parlour and had a Crewe postmark.