Welcome to London Pt. 01

A first attempt at publishing with someone else, the wonderful and talented NotReallySure.

Rachel sat down on the edge of the bed, dressed in sports bra and running shorts, her face red after her morning run. Slim with blonde hair tied back in a simple ponytail, no make up, but a plain natural beauty.

The room was small and dark, clothes and makeup strewn over the floor. Her older sister groaned and sat up, still dressed in last night's clothes, looking at her incredulously.

"So, let me get this right," Sarah said, yawning and reaching for her pack of cigarettes, "you woke me up at stupid o'clock this morning to tell me you've quit work." She shook her head full of blonde hair extensions and lit a cigarette, blowing smoke into the room. "Couldn't this have waited? Hell, couldn't you have just sent me a Whats App?"

Rachel smiled and standing took Sarah's cigarette from her lips, taking a small drag and then handing it back. "Sar, it's 10:30 in the morning."

"I didn't get home until 8!"

Rachel shrugged, "Was he good?"

Sarah winked, holding her hands apart, "Good enough."

Laughing Rachel nodded, "Good. Well you can sleep after. I need your help."

Sarah closed her eyes, wanting to just sleep now. "I don't have any cash, Rach..."

Rachel shook her head, "No, I need your brains." She looked at Sarah, taking the cigarette back and using it to point. "I've had an idea." Pretending not to be too interested, Sarah rolled her eyes and started to peel herself out of her dress, all the while listening intently.

To Rachel's mind her plan made perfect sense. After almost ten years escorting and working with and for some of London's more eccentric and specialised characters, she had an address book that could pretty much find anyone or anything at the drop of a hat. Need a female bodybuilder to entertain you in your hotel room? Rachel could call her old pal Amanda. Or maybe you wanted twins to share your bed for the night? Rachel knew the Jones sisters, who were always up for anything. Wanted access into one of the numerous dungeons or fetish clubs?

No problem.

With this information, which she closely guarded, she figured she would be able to create bespoke, custom evenings for discerning professionals. She would take a cut of any money that changed hands, making the introductions and crucially keeping her clothes on at the same time. And maybe some of those people she would attract would just want a young blonde on their arm to the theatre or a dinner appointment. No sex, just conversation, company and a little flirting.

As the words tumbled out, Sarah listened, nodding along. She knew her younger sister, whilst an accomplished sex worker had always wanted to get out, she was just surprised at how quickly it seemingly happened. The men she worked for weren't, she thought, the type of guys who would just let a prized asset walk away. She let her dress fall on the floor, removed her hair extensions, fake eyelashes, padded bra and now sat in just a small black thong. Her body was curvier and fuller figured than her sister's, but their blue eyes were identical. Both agreed that they were the only decent thing they ever got from their mother.

There was a pause and Sarah started slowly. "So, basically instead of giving men what they want, you are going to get them to pay you to be the biggest prick tease in the world?' She laughed, "Fucking hell, Rach, it'll never work and I'll have a bet that you'll be back working on your back in three months time." She reached down and pulled off her thong, throwing it on the floor and walked to the bed. "I love you sis, but sometimes you are so full of shit."

Rachel looked at her sister, Sarah's naked body permanently tanned, and a large flower tattoo running down her back and round her hip. When she was younger she had been jealous of those curves, and how Sarah had been able to have any of the boys on their estate. Now, in the dark light of the bedroom, she looked older, more worn. "You got out of it, Sarah."

Sarah's eyes narrowed, "I was never..." she started her voice beginning to raise.

They looked at each other and Rachel grinned. "Oh, my mistake, you worked as a dancer."

"Yes."

Rachel put her hand on her sister's arm, "But you stopped 'dancing.'" The ironic emphasis on the word dancing laced with meaning. "And now I have stopped too." She continued, "Look, I am out, all I need is a hand taking a couple of pics, making a couple of adverts and seeing what happens. I've saved some money, I'll be OK.

Sarah smiled, "I am pleased for you Rach. I am. And I'll help. But first..."

"Yes."

"Fuck off, and let me get some sleep."

Rachel nodded, "OK, but I'll come round later, you can give me a hand then." She gave her sister a kiss and headed for the door.

Sarah laid down on her bed, "Oh Rach, you never said....."

"What?"

"How did the Shehu brothers take the news you were quitting?"

Rachel didn't answer as she left her sister, and jogged down the road. Some things she figured were best left unsaid, as she put on her headphones and ran towards her flat.

***

The two sisters sat inside the busy pub, a bottle of wine on the table and two glasses. Rachel was dressed in a tight fitted crop top and gym leggings. Her midriff as bare as she idly played with her navel piercing. Sarah was dressed in a low cut summer dress that had probably been the right size a previous summer, but now struggled to contain her full breasts. In front of them were Rachel's hand written notes.

"Perverts," said Sarah loudly as she looked at the list. "That's who you want. Proper kinky bastards." She wrote down the word 'perves' on the piece of paper, which Rachel then crossed out.

"No, I want businessmen. International travellers."

"Perverts"

"No... Well..."

Sarah giggled "Pervy businessmen!" And they both laughed.

"OK, maybe adventurous businessmen..." Rachel thought for a moment, "Actually, fuck it, I just need their wallets."

"Exactly," said Sarah, as she wrote the words 'rich perves' on the list.

They bounced ideas between them for the next hour, giggling at their thoughts and slowly forming a plan. By the end of the second bottle of wine, Rachel grabbed their notes and read what they had agreed.

"OK, so I am setting up the London International Concierge Service," she started.

"Just shorten that to LIC(k)S", Sarah interjected loudly, the wine having an effect already.

"No."

"Sorry, forgot you were the legit businesswoman now." Sarah said with a heavy sarcasm.

"Can I continue?" Rachel asked, squinting at their handwritten notes, wishing she had brought the pair of reading glasses she knew she needed, but was too vain to wear outside of her flat. "London International Concierge Service is a one-to-one specialised luxury experience company for the discerning international traveller."

Rachel heard her sister mutter the word "perves" under her breath but decided to ignore her. "The company will offer bespoke experiences, all accompanied by a dedicated chaperone and companion. Be that dinner dates, theatre trips, or the more exotic delights that London has to offer. The company will specialise in introducing the client to the lively underground clubs and venues not generally visited by the typical visitor."

Rachel nodded, and put the paper down. "Right then, Sar, what's on the jobs list?"

Sarah looked at her notes, "Website, social accounts and some pictures of you."

Rachel sipped her wine, "OK, well, if you can speak to your friend who does all that techy stuff, I'll make a profile on Insta."

"And I'll take some pictures of you."

"Perfect."

There was a pause, as they both took a drink of wine. Rachel briefly closed her eyes, letting the sounds of the busy pub wash over her. Yes, she was finally doing it. Breaking out from her old life and moving into something new. Of course there would be challenges, and she might have to get a little more personal with some clients, but this was her now. A businesswoman, not an escort.

Opening her eyes she looked at Sarah, who was finishing her wine. "This is going to work out, I can feel it."

Sarah nodded and picking up her phone said, "When do you want some pictures taken?"

Rachel thought for a second, "Not when I am half-pissed."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Rachel said with a smile, "And I have an idea of what we can do. You fancy getting up early?"

Sarah grimaced, "How early?"

Rachel winked and said, "If I told you, you'd never agree."

***

Dawn was still an hour from breaking and the two sisters huddled in an all-night cafe, considering the plan. Rachel was dressed in a tight fitted little black dress, hair slightly styled and a subtle, yet sexy make up applied. Sarah was still wearing the summer dress from the previous day. On the table between them were two steaming mugs of strong tea and a rucksack.

"Right, are you OK with the plan Sar?" Rachel asked, opening the rucksack.

Sarah smiled, "Yes of course."

The smell of fried food lingered in the air, as they both looked out of the window, opposite them the world famous Big Ben Tower.

Sarah reached into the bag and pulled out a large Union Flag, the famous red, white and blue crumpled on the table. Passing the flag to Rachel she picked up her camera and stood by the open cafe door. Focusing on the tower, she took a couple of pictures and turned to Rachel. "If you stand just down there on the pavement, that should be the right angle."

"With or without the flag?"

"With."

Rachel grabbed it, wrapping the flag across her shoulders, and walked down the road, half turning as she looked over her shoulder back to Sarah. "Here?" she asked, pouting her lips slightly. She felt slightly self-conscious as the busy city started to come to life. A cool breeze ran across her shoulders.

Sarah took several pictures, shouting instructions all the while. "Look up, now across, yes... And lower the flag... More shoulder, no... Yes..."

Rachel came back to look at the pictures. In truth they were disappointing. She felt that familiar feeling of disappointment. A good idea, not just happening. Something missing, always that certain something.

Sighing, she looked at Sarah. "We're going to have to try Plan B, aren't we?"

Sarah nodded and Rachel went into the cafe toilet. Ignoring the mess in the right room, she unzipped the little black dress and nearly folded it. Looking into the mirror, she paused. Reflecting again on her pale body, dressed only in a small black bra and thong. Shaking her head she removed her bra, and wrapped the flag around her shoulders more tightly, holding it tight over her small bare breasts.

Walking out and past the cafe owner, she hissed at Sarah, "Come on, take this picture quick". Striding to her mark on the pavement, she turned and lowered the flag slightly.

"Lower." Sarah shouted back, and Rachel bared her shoulder. She felt more conscious now of the building traffic.

"Lower!" Sarah shouted again, and Rachel let the flag drop a little further down her body. She moved her hands to press her breasts together. Flashing a smile at the camera, she half turned again and leant forward.

"Fucking Perfect!" Sarah shouted back, and Rachel marched back to the cafe. The flag was discarded in the bathroom as she pulled her dress back on and went out to sit back down.

The cafe owner looked at the two women as they sat back down, drinking tea and examining the photographs. Rachel looked at the final snap and felt an excitement in her chest. "This is really happening, isn't it Sarah?"

Sarah leant over and put her arms round her younger sister. Several nagging doubts of Rachel's plan ran through her head, but she smiled and gave her sister a kiss. "Yes babe, you'll fucking smash it!.

Rachel smiled and hugged Sarah back. She knew it would be hard, she knew it would be a struggle, but she also knew she could make it. She looked at the pixelated image of herself on the camera screen and just smiled.

***

Time's arrow, he mused, not for the first time, may be a figment of the human mind (scientists were still arguing that one) but that didn't make it any less real. Broken eggs do not re-assemble themselves. And people don't get any younger.

Daniel was contemplating his own life; admittedly with some satisfaction. He was nearing retirement age but he had no plans to slow down. He enjoyed what he was doing, he liked the people he worked with, and he was compensated well for his efforts.

His career had not been one of continuous and unbroken success, of course. There were a few inevitable false steps and disappointments mixed in with the accomplishments. But on the whole, he had much to be grateful for.

He was an American expat engineer who had built power plants all around the world. His most recent project involved the design and construction of a billion dollar project in Egypt. The owners and investors were so pleased with his work that they made him the proverbial "offer that could not be refused" to stay on and manage the operation and maintenance of the plant for a few more years. It was not quite as much fun as building a new project, but it had its challenges and rewards.

The downside of all that was that his marriage had more or less fallen by the wayside. All the time spent away from home had its effects, and his wife ultimately made it clear that there was nothing to come home for. They had held off on making it official with a divorce, so far, but only to avoid making the children and grandchildren feel like they needed to choose sides. This, too, would probably change eventually, but the current arrangement suited them both.

He was getting ready for the annual pilgrimage to The City of London in advance of the renewal of the plant's insurance policies. The City was one of the financial centres of the world, and most of the major insurance companies had headquarters or offices there. The plant was so big that no single company would insure it - only a consortium of insurers would do. And every year, when the policies came due for renewal, Daniel made the trek to The City to make a series of dog-and-pony shows to a long list of current and potential insurers, after which the project's insurance broker would negotiate the terms and participants for the renewed policies.

The presentations were made over the course of two days, after which Daniel was always exhausted. So he started making a habit of staying one or two days afterward in London to relax and decompress, enjoying the sights and sounds that London had to offer. He would take in a play, visit a museum, and just stroll around the city. He also went further afield sometimes, taking trains to visit Duxton, Bletchley Park, and Greenwich.

His "days off" also invariably included an erotic massage in the evenings. In his younger days he even sought out "full service" providers. But lately he found it simpler and equally satisfying to enjoy a tantric or body massage, because he found that - in any case - what he really enjoyed most was the touch of a warm and affectionate woman, rather than just empty sex.

So part of Daniel's preparations for his trip included a web search for a suitable woman. He had occasionally returned to the same provider in subsequent years, if the experience had been a good one. But the turnover in the profession was rather high, and as often as not he found himself in the market for someone new. Like this year.

Something different and interesting popped up unexpectedly this time - the London International Concierge Service. "LICkS," he pronounced out loud with a smile. "Not bad." His experience was that a little bit of humour often went a long way, in any business, and the escort business was no exception. As he read more about the type of services offered, he became more and more intrigued.

The web site promised a different kind of experience - the chance to go places and experience things that he would never manage (or even dare) on his own, with the safety and assurance that he would be shepherded by someone intimately familiar with the scene who would be able to maximise the experience while avoiding the risks. Without even knowing exactly what he might be getting into, or the specific activities involved, the idea appealed to Daniel. Very much. And the photo on the web page tickled his imagination even more. That bare shoulder wrapped in the British flag was sexy as hell - the girl was definitely gorgeous. But it was the wicked glint in her eye which sealed the deal. The opportunity to spend a day or two in the company of this woman, enjoying new sights and sounds (and tastes and smells), was irresistible. Even if there might be no sex involved whatsoever.

He wrote a message to the contact address, describing himself in a few sentences, to give her some idea of what to expect and the dates he would be available. And he finished as follows:

"I have always believed in hiring good people and then letting them do what they do best. So I won't ask for any details in advance. I am willing to let you plan an itinerary for me as you see fit. I will put myself in your lovely hands for the duration of our 'tour'. Just let me know how much time to block out and how much cash to bring with me. The rest is up to you."

As he hit "send", Daniel almost had an instant of regret. "What am I getting myself into?", he mused. But the instant passed just as quickly, leaving an increasing adrenaline rush at the prospect.

Rachel idly hit refresh on her email, sipped her tea and wondered if Sarah had left any cigarettes in her flat. Leaning back on her kitchen chair in her tiny studio flat, she looked at the laptop and hit refresh again.

Life as a businesswoman had been a rollercoaster, since she posed in just a flag last year. First there was absolute silence. No contacts, no work and no money. Then in the third month it had suddenly sparked into life. LIC(k)S was out there and she made more money in that month than she had in three months working as an escort. A series of US and European businessmen descended on London, and she, plus her sister, helped arrange some of the best, kinkiest experiences money could buy.

And then nothing. Sporadic enquiries, but nothing concrete. Long drawn out conversations with potential customers and then ghosted. She sighed and stretched out, hitting refresh on her email.

Nothing.

Standing Rachel walked over to her window, looking out across London. The weather was cool, but it looked dry. Rachel realised it was probably three days since she had left her flat. Sighing again, she looked at her running shoes on the floor.

Maybe tomorrow she reasoned with herself. Maybe go for that run and blast away the cobwebs tomorrow.

And then, finally, her email pinged. She dashed the four paces across her flat, grabbed her glasses and sat down. Finally, some interest.

A cursory check on the internet and his name checked out as a senior engineer. The details of the email were vague, but Rachel loved an upsell and smiling started to type.

"Dear Daniel, I hope you are well and thank you for reaching out to me.

I am thinking of two potential experience packages you may be interested in. The first would be our 'Executive Unwind'. This is aimed at taking the busy gent's mind off their schedule, and allowing them the luxury of total relaxation. The evening would start with an associate of mine, meeting you in your room and massaging away the day's aches and pains. Pampering you in every way, before accompanying you in our private car to a restaurant of your choice. There we would enjoy one of the finest meals the city has to offer before retiring to a private club of our choosing.

Upon returning via private car to your hotel, I would arrange for another associate of mine to be waiting in your room. They would spend the night with you, indulging you, before we met for a late brunch, followed by a sauna or massage the following day. The experience would be approximately 24 hours of total relaxation and comfort. The price for this would vary on the associates involved, but cost approximately £3000.