Two Can Play Ch. 12

"What do you want?"

"Oh, that's easily answered. You."

"What!"

"I'm quite willing to pay your going rate."

"What do take me for?" Rachel indignantly asked.

"A high class whore. You work the best hotels. Well, maybe not the best, but four star, at any rate."

"Please get out of my way."

"Don't be silly. I'm offering you business. Don't tell me one a night is enough."

"You're completely mistaken. Now, leave me alone or...."

"Or what? You'll call the management? I don't suppose they'll be too pleased about a prostitute roaming around the bedrooms of their fine hotel."

He took hold of her arm. "My room's right here."

"Darling, where are you going?"

The voice startled them both. Rachel swung round and saw Paul standing in the corridor.

"I....I...."

"Must have fallen asleep in front of the tele. Woke up and found you gone. What are you up to?"

"Oh..I..er..needed a walk."

"But it's half past two."

"Yes...er...the room felt so stuffy."

"Not a good idea to wander around at this time, is it?" Paul addressed the question to the man, who was still holding onto Rachel.

"Damned right. Most peculiar idea, if you ask me."

Paul looked puzzled. "Do you mind if I ask what you're doing with my wife?"

"Wife?"

"Mrs Cooper." Paul gestured towards Rachel.

"Well....I...I...."

"Come back to bed, darling." Paul masterfully conducted Rachel towards his room and through the door.

"Wait a minute." After a moment of doubt, the man had suddenly woken up to the fact that he was being taken for a ride. "Don't try and make a fool out of me. I know she's not your wife."

"Ah, but that's where you're mistaken. Good night."

Paul firmly shut the door.

"Oh, Paul!" Rachel held him tightly. "Thank God you were here. That awful man. I didn't know what to do."

"He certainly seemed to have you in a cleft stick. Is it true what he was saying? That you're a prostitute?"

"Not exactly."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm an escort."

"Ah." Paul nodded. "A subtle difference."

"Yes." Rachel was defiant. "There is."

Paul looked closely at her. "You're still trembling. Come and sit down. I'll get you a drink."

"No. Thanks." Rachel kissed him lightly on the cheek. "I'd better be going."

"A bit risky with that randy fellow around. I don't think he was convinced by our little charade. He's probably still watching for you."

"He wouldn't dare do anything. Not now."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that."

"I....I can't stay. It would complicate matters."

Paul smiled. "I wouldn't mind a few complications."

He led her to a settee, gently removed her coat and sat her down. Rachel was still tense from her encounter with the man and offered no resistance. Paul busied himself getting a drink.

"You're here for a production meeting, I suppose."

"Yes. All the usual arguments and nonsense. God, how I long to be free of it all, but I've got to make a living."

He took the drink across and handed it to Rachel.

"What is it?" she asked.

"A pick me up. You look as if you need it." He sat in an armchair.

"Thanks." There was a long silence as Rachel sipped her drink, studiously avoiding eye contact.

"Why are you an escort?"

Rachel shrugged. "Why do you write 'Cottingly'?"

"Are you trying to suggest that prostituting my writing is the same as you prostituting your body?"

"Isn't it?"

"I don't think so."

There was another awkward silence.

"How's your book coming along?" Rachel asked.

"Not far off the end, but I'm still not sure how to finish it."

"Endings are always difficult."

"This one is," Paul murmured.

"What's the plot?"

"Husband and wife love each other. A moment of foolishness and weakness ruins everything. They separate, he's desperately unhappy. They meet again by chance; he tells her he still loves her, despite everything, and he wants very much to try again."

"But you don't know what she'll reply."

Paul nodded. "That's the problem."

"I suppose it depends whether or not she still loves him."

"It does."

"You're the author. Surely it's up to you."

"Funny thing, but characters in a book have a life of their own. It's almost as if they make the decisions and all the author can do is record them. Try to make them take the wrong road and they'll resist. Try to give them something out of character and they're most unhappy; almost wilful in their determination to stick with what they think is right."

Rachel giggled. "That's silly."

"True, I swear."

"So you really don't know whether your wife still loves her husband?"

"I really don't."

Rachel rose from the settee, slowly crossed to the armchair, sat on Paul's lap and lightly pressed her lips against his in a tender kiss.

"I like happy endings," she murmured.

They kissed more deeply, lips slightly apart, tongue reaching for tongue. Paul's penis was stirring into life. Rachel stood up, reached behind and pulled down the zip of her dress. She let it fall to the floor and kicked it aside before removing her bra and pants, both of them made of silk.

Dropping to her knees she reached through the gap in Paul's pyjamas and brought out the swelling phallus. Delicately holding it between the thumb and forefinger of one hand, she began to caress it with the other with a touch so gentle it was feather light. The penis quickly hardened, growing longer and thicker at the same time.

Paul sat with his head back and eyes closed, relishing the smooth touch of Rachel's hand. Long, slim fingers brushed up, down and around his pulsing cock. She began rolling it like dough between both hands until it stood even more erect and proud. Suddenly the stiffened member was enveloped in silk as Rachel wrapped her panties round it. She continued her gentle caress, but now the sensation of pleasure was even more heightened.

"Oh, God," groaned Paul.

"Am I hurting you?" Rachel mischievously enquired.

"I'm not going to be able to hold myself back much longer."

"I didn't know you had a fetish."

"What fetish?" Paul's voice sounded strained.

"Coming off in a pair of lady's silken panties. Do you like wearing them?"

"I've never tried, but it could become a habit. It's a great sensation. Oh." Another groan.

Paul's eyes were even more tightly closed, but he felt the silk removed from his throbbing member. Rachel took it into her mouth and began to draw it in and out, rolling her tongue around the shaft and head.

Paul opened his eyes and looked down at Rachel's head bobbing about as she worked on his penis. He smiled and ran his fingers through her silky hair. She paused briefly in her work, looked up and smiled back. She resumed her fellatio.

He was doomed. They both knew it. His semen was knocking at the door, eager to burst free and nothing was going to stop it. Rachel quickly thrust his penis between her breasts and pressed them around it as the dam broke. Paul gripped the edge of the chair, his knuckles showing white as he thrashed around in his orgasm. The thick, creamy liquid shot out, some of it landing on his thigh, while the rest trickled down Rachel's stomach.

They had a drink, then took a leisurely shower together, soaping each other with the greatest care and attention being spent on their most intimate parts. A combination of the warm water and gentle caress of his wife soon brought Paul's penis back to life. Rachel dried it with the towel feeling it rising with every touch.

"I think it needs to be inside you," Paul murmured.

"Nothing else will satisfy it?"

"Nothing."

"In that case....."

Rachel took Paul's hand and led him to the bed. She lay down, opened her legs and inserted two fingers into her vagina.

"You're ready." Paul clambered onto the bed, between her legs.

"Willing and able." Rachel smiled at him in invitation.

She held the vulva lips apart as Paul slid into her, diving deep until he could go no further. He held perfectly still for a few moments, his balls pressed hard against her, then began a slow rhythm; a rhythm which gradually became faster and faster. Now he knew how to complete his book. He would finally be able to write.

THE END