2 comments/ 15203 views/ 0 favorites Seeking Satisfaction By: J G Parkes Jenny Cook had a good job as a feature writer for a leading UK Sunday paper at the more serious and worthy end of the market. It was heavy and thick, made up of ten different sections, as well as two magazines, and attempted to walk the line between left and right of the political spectrum. Twenty-eight years old, she could consider herself a success in her career. Dark-haired, long-legged and with a figure that many women envied and men admired, Jenny owned an up-market car and lived in a one-bedroomed flat in a luxury block near Regent's Park. She was totally independent yet, for some reason, had a hankering for the responsibility of a home and family. The relationship between Mark Cale and Jenny was a constant source of gossip and speculation amongst their friends. They were always warm and friendly enough with each other, even quite loving, and yet they seemed to make no progress in any direction. Their free weekends, which was most of them as her work was all done by Friday afternoon and he was a Westminster MP, were spent in his flat. Their sex life was OK, but a little dull, with a notable lack of fireworks. They almost always used the missionary position, though sometimes she persuaded him to let her go on top. He had no desire for her to perform fellatio and was equally uninterested in putting his lips and tongue to her vulva, though he did use his fingers. He was also extremely fond of her breasts. When she was being really honest with herself, Jenny had to admit that Mark was a most unadventurous lover. An orgasm was nothing more than a dream. But, she persuaded herself, that an orgasm wasn't everything and too much was made of it in books and magazines. She enjoyed it when Mark ran his hands over her and kissed her breasts, though he spent too little time on foreplay. Quick to harden, he was quick to penetrate and equally quick to finish, leaving Jenny with a sense of unfinished business. The subject of marriage had been broached on several occasions, usually - in fact, always, as she came to realise - by Jenny, and several times she thought she'd won Mark over. When it came to the crunch, he always found an excuse for not committing himself just yet. He invariably pleaded the necessity of putting in a great deal of time and effort on his political work, but Jenny was becoming more and more sceptical; after all, many politicians were married and had families, but still carried out their Westminster duties. "Just give me time to settle in." They were lying in bed after their few minutes of sex and debauchery; Jenny had reached a climax of sorts, but missed an orgasm. "It's all very strange and new. I'm still trying to get my bearings and find my feet." "You've been an MP for more than two years." "Yes, I know, but there's a lot to assimilate." "I'm beginning to think you don't want to get married." "Not at all," Mark protested. "It's not something we should rush into, that's all." "You've been fucking me for nearly three years. That could hardly be called rushing." "I wish you wouldn't use such language," sighed Mark. "It really sounds most inappropriate coming from the lips of an educated young woman." Jenny swung her legs out of the bed. "God, Mark, you sound such a prig sometimes. In fact, you're becoming like a pale imitation of your bloody Leader! Now he's going do you intend to model yourself on his successor?" She walked naked across the room and into the bathroom, slamming the door after her. Mark was left open-mouthed at the final insult; not to him, but to his revered boss, the Prime Minister. This was one of the reasons for his hesitancy about marrying her; she had little respect for everything he held dear, often making scathing remarks about politicians in general and the government in particular. He loved her - at least, he thought he did - but her attitude was a bone of contention between them. It was something he tried to ignore as much as possible and refrained from criticising her too often. All the same, it put an unwarranted strain on him. Jenny came out of the bathroom and began to put on her clothes. "I thought you were going to stay the night." "Not much point, is there?" Jenny sounded more sad than angry. "We've made love, dismissed marriage yet again and had a tiff. I don't think there's much left. Do you?" "Not if you're in a mood." "I'm not in a mood, as you put it, but I can't help but be disappointed at your refusal to name a day. I don't know why I keep trying, I really don't." Having pulled on her panties and tights, Jenny put both arms through the straps of her bra, tucked her full, round breasts into the cups and fastened the clasps. Mark was watching every move. "I'm always impressed by the way you make that look so easy." "Practice." Anyway, she presumed it was. When she first wore a bra she had as much difficulty as Mark. On the occasions he tried to undo the clasps as part of their love-making, he fumbled and cursed, even though he could see what he was doing and wasn't reaching behind. Heaven knows what he'd be like trying to fasten them; Jenny had refrained from asking him. She slipped into her dress. "I'm going away the day after tomorrow," Mark announced. "For good?" He gave her a withering look. "Don't be silly. A few days, that's all. I'm joining a fact finding tour to the States. It's a great privilege for a mere back-bencher and a marvellous opportunity. It could get me onto the first rung of the ladder." "Where does the ladder go?" Jenny quietly asked. "Up to Number 10." "Are you serious? You want to be Prime Minister?" Mark laughed. "That's where the ladder goes. I'm not saying I'll get as high as that, but a few rungs up would be most acceptable." "I'm pleased for you, darling. What facts are you finding out?" "Law enforcement." "I didn't realise you knew much about it." "I don't, but I'm going to learn. Crime is a serious issue, both in this country and the States. I want to get involved in something important." Jenny came over to the bed. "I'm sure you'll do well." She leaned over and kissed him. "Will I see you when you come back?" "Of course, if you want. I'd rather got the idea that you'd gone off me." "I keep trying, lover, but you must have some indefinable charm that keeps me tied to you." "I'll give you a ring." Jenny crossed to the door in her natural graceful movement, with a slight swing of the hips. He liked the way she walked. She turned. "Enjoy yourself." "It's work." She smiled. "Um." She blew a kiss. "Bye." After a moment Mark heard the front door close. Suddenly the flat seemed strangely empty. Perhaps it was time to fix a date; time to settle down into wedded bliss. After his return from America. ***** The following day Jenny had lunch with a friend, Kathy Matthews. Inevitably the subject of Mark came up; it was a recurring theme in their conversations. "If the wimp can't give you an orgasm you should ditch him." Kathy was nothing if not blunt. "Mark's not a wimp," Jenny protested. "He's a bloody MP, isn't he? And dickless. Par for the course." "There's more to a relationship than having an orgasm." Kathy snorted. "Name something." "There's caring about the other person; being interested in what they do." "Is Mark interested in your life away from him?" "Not very," Jenny reluctantly admitted. "There you are." Kathy was triumphant. "I don't understand what you see in him or why you've stuck with him for three bloody years. I can't begin to count the number of men I've had in that time." "That's the difference between us, you see. I need an attachment; to feel something for the man." "Oh, I feel something all right." Kathy grinned. "Lust." Jenny ignored her. "I'm comfortable with Mark." "God, comfortable! You're not even married to him. Comfortable is the last thing you should be feeling. You want the thrill of adventure...uncertainty...discovery. You don't need to know a man to have bloody good sex, take my word for it. I'm fully qualified and speak from experience. It's not always great, of course, but what does it matter? I'm not committed to the guy; I move on. One night stands. I love them." "One night?" Jenny shook her head. "I could never do that." "Have you tried?" "No." "Have you had anyone else since meeting Mark?" "No." "You should." "That's not my style. I'm monogamous by nature." "Monogamous my eye! You've not given yourself a chance. Mark's away. Now's the time. Dress sexy and come along to Demarco's tonight. We'll see who we can pick up for you." "I couldn't." "I'm not talking about getting involved in a relationship. Nothing deep. Avoid feeling at all cost. Except lust, of course. You want to have his hands, lips and tongue all over your body and his penis inside you or it's no good. The big O is what you're after." "The big O?" Jenny was mystified. "Orgasm." "Oh, of course." "That's what it's all about. Too many fellers push it in, flood your cunt and think they've done a good job. Then they expect to do it again the next night or whenever they fancy." "Like Mark." "Exactly my point." Kathy sounded triumphant. "But not with me, they don't. And, if you put your mind to it, not with you. What do you say about tonight?" Jenny shook her head. "No." "You're a fool." "Maybe. I want a stable relationship and Mark suits me very well." "He doesn't give you an orgasm." "I'll have to try harder, that's all." "Why should it all be down to you? It takes two to tango." "Yes, I know, but a little pushing won't hurt. I need to pep up our relationship in bed, for a start. We should be more imaginative and adventurous when we make love." "That's impossible. Mark Cale is a dodo." "He's only thirty." "Which only makes it worse. And 'making love' is the problem. It's a good fucking you need." "Same thing." "Not at all." "And I have an idea about geeing things up." "What?" "A-ha." Jenny mysteriously tapped her nose with a fore- finger. "That's my little secret." ***** She told Mark about her idea on their first night together after his return. As usual, their sexual passions had hardly set the bedroom on fire; nor Jenny. "You want to do what?" He was incredulous. "We love each other, don't we?" "Yes, of course." "We want to make each happy." "I'm perfectly happy." "Don't you think there's something missing?" "No." "A sexual frisson." "You make me hard and I ejaculate. That's enough frisson for me." "What about me? You ignore my needs." Mark frowned. "Don't I satisfy you?" "Not completely." "I don't know what else I can do or what you expect from me." "I'm telling you." Mark jumped out of bed, pulling on a dressing gown; he had a distaste for walking around nude. "I'm not listening to any more of this nonsense." "It'll be a turn-on." "Ridiculous." "Try it. What harm is there in that?" "Dammit, Jenny, I'm an MP struggling to make my way off the back benches. Sleaze is the last thing I want." "But we're an item, darling. We've been sleeping together for three years." "Yes," Mark shouted, "but you weren't a prostitute!" Jenny spread her hands. "I won't be tomorrow night." "Maybe not, but you're proposing to pretend you are. I'm expected to play an elaborate game and for what?" Jenny smiled. "Adventure." Mark snorted. "All right; the hell of it." "Stuff and nonsense." "There's no harm at all; it's just between you and me. It's role playing, that's all, and it could be fun. Oh, please, darling." "But why would I get turned on by you pretending to be a prostitute? Tell me that." "I really have no idea, darling. I'm not able to delve into a man's psychology, but I read this article about how men are fascinated by prostitutes. Take 'Pretty Woman' for example." Mark held up a finger. "Ah, but Julia Roberts wasn't really a prostitute." "Of course not. But the character was and look how Richard Gere couldn't resist her." Mark looked puzzled. "I don't see what this has to do with you pretending to be a prostitute." "It all has to do with a woman being paid for sex and group feelings of sharing her with other men." Jenny waved her hands in the air. "Or something to that effect." "But you wouldn't really get paid. And I'm not sharing you with anyone." "No, no, of course not. But that's where the role playing comes in. We pretend that's the situation." Mark shook his head. "I can't see the sense of it." Jenny took a deep breath. "I'll try and explain." It took some doing, but she eventually persuaded him to enter into her little scheme. The following morning Mark booked a room in a good class central London hotel in the name of John Hancock. He had no intention of identifying himself, feeling thoroughly embarrassed by the whole charade. His was not a well known face and there was little chance of anybody recognising him. His pseudonym was acquired from knowledge gained on his recent trip to America when he learned that a John Hancock was an informal term for a person's signature. It was Saturday and he had little to do except read the papers, catch up on the mail, meet a fellow MP for lunch and try to possess his soul in patience. He longed for the ridiculous business to be over. Mr. J. Hancock checked into the hotel just after six and was shown to a fourth floor room furnished in style, but not opulence. There was a drinks tray and he poured himself a stiff whisky to fortify him for the ordeal ahead. He had been instructed to play the part of a client hiring an escort and was supposed to forget that it was Jenny on the other end of the phone. He used his mobile. "Allo." He had the wrong number! The voice was different and sounded foreign. He cut off and redialed. "Allo. Theese is Dominique speaking." She was definitely foreign. Mark checked the number on his display; it belonged to Jenny. "You wish an escort, oui?" "Er....yes." "For tonight?" "Yes. Eight o'clock." He gave the name of the hotel and his room number. "And your name, monsieur?" "Oh...erm....Hancock. John...John Hancock." "Your little Dominique will be there at eight o'clock." The phone went dead and Mark stood staring at it in bewilderment. "Dominique? Who the hell is Dominique?" he muttered. He took another drink. Jenny. Of course it had to be. She was playing her part; up to the hilt, by the sound of it. Funnily enough, despite feeling like a prize idiot, there was a small stirring in his loins at the thought of a visit from his 'little Dominique'. She walked into the lobby at precisely the right time and heads turned. Her dark hair fell around her face in a designer straggle and she wore too much make-up; lips were a vivid scar of red, cheeks rouged, eyelids blackened. She walked on impossibly high heels with swinging hips looking every inch a sex kitten. A long-line, slim fitting jacket was open to reveal the dress beneath, a black and shimmering silver bandeau dress in the same wet look fabric, high on the thigh, low on the bosom. Remembering how it was done, she walked with total confidence to the row of lifts and pressed the button for the third floor. From there she walked up the stairs and along to Room 405. Pausing outside the door she took a deep breath and knocked. When he answered the knock, Mark was completely floored by the apparition before him. "My God! What do you look like?" He unceremoniously dragged his visitor inside and slammed the door. "My God!" he repeated. "You've turned yourself into a whore." "Monsieur!" Dominique was indignant. "Please be careful 'ow you address me. I am an escort." Mark buried his face in his hands. "I knew this was a big mistake." "I will go if you wish it, but you still 'ave to pay." She held out her hand. "You take my time and my trouble." "This is idiotic! Absolutely insane! I refuse to play your game." Dominique arched her eyebrows in surprise. "Game, monsieur? Of what game do you speak?" "Dammit, Jenny, enough's enough. I'm an MP and you're a perfectly respectable career woman. I don't get any kind of kick out of this sort of behaviour and I want you to drop it. Now!" Dominique looked at him for a few moments, tears forming at the corner of her eyes. It was Jenny who slowly sank down onto a chair. "You're not even going to try." "Try what?" "Behaving as if I was a French prostitute." "Is that why you had the ridiculous accent?" Jenny sniffed. "I thought it sounded rather good." "Why would a French prostitute be plying her trade in London?" "I thought it made her sound more interesting. This has been a total failure, hasn't it?" "Total. A waste of money." "You haven't paid me." It was a small voice. "There's the hotel bill. And what about those clothes? They don't look anything like your usual wardrobe." "Bought them today. I thought I looked good. And a lot of men thought so, too. I was aware of eyes on me all the time as I walked through the lobby." "Yes." Mark sounded grim. "I can imagine what they were thinking. I don't need all this. I love you the way you are." "Do you?" "What?" "Love me?" "I don't know how many times I have to tell you." "But you don't show me." Jenny stood up. "I think we should stop seeing each other. For a while, anyway." Mark reached out to take her in his arms. "Jenny. Darling." She shook her head and evaded him. "I hoped we could work it out, but there's something missing and you don't even want to try and find it." "God, you talk in riddles sometimes." "I'm sorry, Mark." Jenny put her hand on the doorknob and turned. "I hope you manage to climb a few more rungs of the bloody parliamentary ladder." Mark stepped towards her. "Jenny...." But she was gone. ***** Jenny closed the door and walked along the corridor towards the lift. In front of the doors was a fairly extensive area with seats, large windows and a view across the city. Close to tears, she sat down and gazed at the twinkling lights outside. Deep in thought she was unaware of the lift doors opening behind her. "Good evening." Startled by the unexpected voice, Jenny jumped up and whirled round. A man was smiling at her. He was of medium height, good-looking and in his mid-thirties - or so she judged - and was vaguely familiar. "Hello." The lift doors had already closed and Jenny reached out for the button. "Are you leaving?" "Yes." "Business completed?" "What?" "I presume you have satisfied another client and your purse is all the healthier for it." "I beg your...." Jenny's instinctive reaction to the implication of his remark was indignation, but then she remembered how she was dressed and the image she must present; indeed, had intended to present. It was only to be expected he would jump to the wrong conclusion. "Yes. Yes, that's right." "Have you another appointment?" "Erm...no." "The evening is young. Maybe you and I could do business." "Oh...I..." Jenny struggled to think how she was going to get out of this awkward situation. "I can think of no better way to spend an hour or two than with an attractive, sexy woman like you." "You really think I'm sexy?" The potential client nodded. "Absolutely." Jenny relaxed and smiled. After all, she'd started out to play prostitute tonight, so why not? What difference did it make who the client turned out to be? "I don't come cheap." "Name your price." "Two hundred pounds for an hour." Jenny was pleased with herself for doing some research on the subject, wanting to feel as if she was really doing the job. A bit like a method actor, she had thought. "I'm thinking of a little longer." "Three hundred for two." Seeking Satisfaction I am having an affair with my fiancée's room-mate, Pete, and I just have to tell someone about it. I am a twenty-four-year-old brunette, five feet six inches tall, with good tits, a nice ass, and a cunt that most of the men I've been with have enjoyed both eating and fucking. I have cheated on my fiancée, Dan, more times than I would care to admit, but the experiences I have had during the last six months have been fun and extremely rewarding. I found out from Pete's ex-girlfriend that he was very well-hung-nine inches of well-hung, to be exact. I'd never had a cock that big before and would nearly come whenever the subject of this magnificent tool came up. I was spending the weekend at Dan and Pete's apartment. We all went out for what turned out to be quite a few drinks. When we got back to the apartment we were very drunk. I was also very horny, having stared at the monster bulge in Pete's jeans for the better part of the evening. Dan and I undressed and jumped into bed. Pete and Dan have their beds in the same room, so in a few minutes Pete came in to go to sleep. He had already stripped down to his briefs. I couldn't help gazing at his crotch, which Dan noticed immediately. "What are you looking at?" he asked. I was drunk and feeling extremely bold, and since Dan and I have often talked seriously about having a threesome, I blurted, "I'm looking at Pete's big cock!" I could see Dan's dick growing to its full length so I continued my assault. I asked Pete if I could give him a blowjob. The room grew silent. Pete shook his head in approval, so I kissed Dan and breathlessly jumped into Pete's bed. I positioned myself on top of Pete and gave him a tongue-job from his mouth down to his shorts. My cunt was tingling with anticipation as I rolled down his briefs. I was greeted by the largest cock I had ever seen. Not only was it long, it must have been twice as thick as Dan's! I couldn't believe that before long that gigantic rod would be pounding between my legs. I started making love to Pete's balls. I licked and sucked them for at least ten minutes, his cock now fully erect. I licked my way up the thick, full pole of flesh until I reached the head. His dick was straight as an arrow and harder than any of the cocks I had ever sucked. Even with my mouth open wide I only managed to fit in half of Pete's gigantic root. I started bobbing up and down, giving him the best head I'd ever given. Pete was moaning in ecstasy, while in the other bed Dan was staring in sullen disbelief. I rarely swallow a man's come, but I had already decided to make an exception for Pete. After about twenty minutes of intense sucking, Pete began to twitch. Experience told me that my mouth would soon be full of thick, hot jism. He wailed, "I'm coming!" and I felt the first jets of sperm hit the back of my throat. I quickly swallowed and his cock erupted again. I swallowed once more, but the third, fourth and fifth waves were too much and overflowed out of my mouth and onto his balls. After licking his entire crotch clean, my pussy was ready for some serious attention. I could think of nothing else but fucking Pete, but since I knew Dan would not tolerate my screwing his room-mate I jumped back into his bed. Before fucking me he gave me one of his superb licks. I have to admit, Dan does know how to eat out a woman. He was down on me for what seemed like an eternity. I managed two small orgasms pretty soon, but I needed his prick inside me. Dan sensed this, put on a condom and climbed astride me. He slid his prick into my fiery cunt and started pumping in and out. Seven or eight pumps later he exploded into the rubber. I wasn't even close to an orgasm, and without saying a word I stormed into the living room to watch television. An hour later I heard someone in the kitchen. It was Pete, who walked out with two beers and handed me one. He asked me what was wrong, knowing full well what had happened. I couldn't help myself and said, "I'm so fucking horny for your cock my pussy is dripping! To hell with Dan, you've got to fuck me!" His prick immediately stiffened and he wasted no time taking off his shorts. The next thing I knew I had his jumbo cock in my mouth again and was sucking him off while he stood in front of me, his hands in a tight grip around my bobbing head. I wanted to swallow his come again, but he pulled away and said, "It's your turn to come. AND believe me, you are going to come!" I almost came when he said that. Pete spread my legs, pulled my panties off and exposed my cunt. He slowly worked two of his long, thick fingers into my pussy. His fingers were bigger than some of the cocks I've had in there. He used his left hand to expertly stimulate my nipples and my clit. With both of Pete's big hands working me over, I had an orgasm that shook the apartment building. I expected Dan to wake up and catch us, but I didn't care. Pete fingered me until I begged him again to fuck me. He climbed onto me in the missionary position and started to ease his big cock in between my legs. I felt his cockhead enter and stretch my cunt wide open. We both moaned as he pushed his perfect took inch by beautiful inch deep into my tunnel. Pete's thickness was filling me like no man ever had. I whispered in his ear, telling him how good it felt to be fucked by his gigantic cock. He told me I was the sexiest and tightest woman he had ever been with. At that moment, he took a deep breath, held me tightly and pushed harder than before. Amazingly, he still wasn't all the way inside me-about an inch of his rod remained unfucked. With tremendous effort he pulled back and finally entered me completely. I let out a gasp and Pete asked if I was okay. "Yes, yes!" I cried out. As he pumped I could feel every inch of his dick exploring areas in me nothing had ever touched before. It was like losing my virginity all over again, this time at the mercy of a dream cock. Pete was plunging into me like there was no tomorrow. Every four or five pumps resulted in an orgasm the likes of which I'd never before experienced. I think I had come seven times before I realized we had no protection. At my request, Pete left the room for a minute to get a condom. After he put it on he started balling me more furiously than ever. I knew my cunt would never be the same once Pete was done with it. As he came, all I could do was grab his twitching ass and let him erupt into my pussy. When he unloaded I had the biggest orgasm of all. We balled two more times on the living-room couch, with Pete coming each time. I climbed back in bed with Dan at about four in the morning, my cunt dripping with Pete's cream. The next morning Dan woke up horny, so I made him eat my come-filled pussy. Then, being too sore to fuck again, I blew him. What an incredible night! I have been having this affair with Pete for the past six months. We only manage to get together about once a month, but when we do, Pete balls me at least three times. This always results in a lot of orgasms for both of us. I think Dan suspects that his room-mate has been fucking me better than he ever could but he hasn't said anything. All I know for sure is that getting a little on the side has never been better. Seeking Satisfaction "And...?" the man prompted. "Three hours?" Jenny queried. "I would like you to quote for the night." Jenny gulped. "All night?" "That's the idea. I want time to really appreciate you." Another gulp. "Eight hundred pounds," she said weakly. "Done. My room's just along here." It was at this point that Jenny's legs began to give way. She doubted whether they would actually carry her any further. She collapsed onto the seat. "Are you all right?" Her client....client? Why not call a spade a spade? Her john looked concerned. "Yes...yes, fine. Just need to adjust my shoe." She fiddled with the strap while trying to pull herself together. She couldn't believe she was really going to go through with this. It wasn't too late to back out. On the other hand, he looked very fuckable and that was the reason she was here; to get fucked. She stood up and smiled. "All sorted." Jenny slotted her arm through his in a gesture of familiarity and they walked along the corridor to the door of his room. He took the electronic key from his pocket and grinned at her. "I hope this works." So did Jenny. It would be too embarrassing to wait around while he went back down to the reception desk. There was a little green glow as he swiped the card. She breathed a sigh of relief. The room was almost identical to the one further along where she had left Mark. How shocked he would be if he knew what she was about to do. She was quite shocked herself. This was absolutely not in character. "Make yourself at home." Jenny was unsure what he meant by that. Did he intend her to get undressed straight away? She supposed so. After all, it was business and no time was to be wasted on preliminaries. She removed her jacket, dropping it onto a chair and then reached behind for the zip of her dress. "Sit down and make yourself comfortable." He waved his hand in the direction of an armchair. "No need to rush at things. The whole night is before us. Something to drink?" "Erm..no. Thanks." She sank into the chair. "Quite right. The price of the drinks in a hotel mini-bar is exorbitant. Perhaps you'd prefer it if I paid you before we go any further." "Well...I..." "Of course you would." He crossed over to a cupboard which contained a small safe and punched in a code. "I could pay by Visa, but prefer not to have a transaction such as this on record. Anyway, I doubt whether you're equipped to take Visa." Jenny shook her head. A knot of nervousness clutched at her stomach. This was idiotic. What did she imagine she was doing here? Paying Mark back in some way? But how? After all, he didn't know what she was proposing to do. Oh, God! This was stupid. There was still time for her to leave. "I thought not," her client continued, completely unaware of the maelstrom of conflicting thoughts whirling around inside Jenny's head. "I could also write a cheque, but ditto the written evidence. Also, you might not trust it not to bounce. So - cash it is." He withdrew a wad of notes from the safe. "Do you always go around with so much cash?" Jenny asked, open-mouthed at the large sum in his hand. "An old-fashioned man, that's me. I don't like electronic cards; even hotel keys. Cash in hand, that's what I prefer." "But somebody could rob you." "From what I've read, credit cards are none too safe." He held out a bundle of notes. "Eight hundred pounds as requested." Jenny mechanically took the money and put it into her bag. "Better count them." "I trust you. You have an honest face." "The mark of a successful con man." He sat on the bed and patted it to indicate she should join him. She dutifully moved across and took her place beside him. "It's a familiar face." "Ah. You've found me out." He planted butterfly kisses on her cheek, above her eyes and on her nose. "But I can't quite place you." He sighed. "My perennial trouble. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride." He kissed her lips. "Always the solid supporting actor, never the star." He slowly pulled down the zip of her dress. "Of course. You're in films." "Sometimes. And TV and the theatre. A good all-rounder, that's me." He pulled the dress down to her waist and set about unfastening her bra. It was obviously a practised art and presented no difficulty. Before she had time to even think about it her breasts were fully revealed. He looked appreciatively for a moment then dipped his head and gently took her nipple between his lips. She gave a ghost of a moan. "I've seen you several times," Jenny murmured. "Good." He shifted his attention from one breast to the other. "But it's irritating. I can't remember your name." "My usual fate." "Sorry." "Don't be. I make a pretty good living at being unknown." He pushed her down until she was lying flat on the bed. "One user comment on the Internet Movie Data Base was that if there was any justice I would be a star." He pulled the dress further down and she raised her hips up to allow him to remove it altogether. He then removed her panties. It struck Jenny that he had stripped her naked and she had hardly been aware of it. "That's an encouraging thing to say," she volunteered, somewhat breathlessly as his butterfly kisses now fluttered around her mons. "Um." Kiss, kiss, kiss. "I..." Kiss, kiss. "Thought so." "Oooh!" sighed Jenny. Her body shuddered as his tongue slowly licked along her labia and back again, probing its folds. At the same time his hand caressed her breast, teasing the nipple. She lay back, her eyes closed, as she savoured the sensations created by his tongue and hand. A warm glow suffused her body and she could already feel a dampness between her legs. In three years of love-making with Mark she had never felt this way. "'Love must kiss that mortal's eyes,'" murmured her lover. "'Who hopes to see fair Arcady.'" A finger probed Jenny's vagina. "'No gold can buy you entrance there; but beggared Love may go all bare.' To quote that immortal American poet, Henry Cuyler Bunner. Not quite true in this case, of course. The money in your purse proves the point." Jenny felt herself blushing with embarrassment. It was true she was bought and paid for, but financial gain was not her motivation, though he wasn't to know that. "Why are you paying for sex?" she asked. "I should imagine you could have your fill of very willing women." "Yes, indeed. In fact, if I may boast a little, I'm forever tripping over willing women. It can be embarrassing - and tricky at times. A hazard of my profession and the kind of roles I'm mainly given to play. Intelligent, charming and honourable. Not for me the character who lets down his lady-love and leaves her despondent. No matter what, I always come through in the end." Jenny suddenly sat up. "Timothy Hart!" she exclaimed. "Ah. You've finally remembered." "Stupid of me to forget." "Not at all. I'm merely a strolling player; at least, the equivalent. But Tim will do." "You didn't answer my question." "Why pay you for sex?" Jenny nodded. "Um." "It was spur of the moment. I saw you, I fancied fucking you and you were available for a sum of money. A simple business transaction. No complications." "I've just realised something." "What?" "I'm naked, but you're still fully dressed." "An unsatisfactory situation that I shall remedy immediately." He was as good as his word. Jenny was slightly disappointed to see that her nakedness and response to his caresses had not hardened him. On the contrary, his penis was completed deflated and lifeless. He noticed her crestfallen reaction as she gazed at his nether regions. "Um. Sorry. I've always found an attractive naked woman very pleasing to the eye, but for some reason that pleasure is not transmitted to my prick. However, it is not averse to a little gentle stroking, hardens even more when kissed and sucked, and truly blossoms when inside the warmth of a vagina. Yours appears to be particularly welcoming." Jenny reached for the sorry specimen in front of her and lightly ran her fingers around it; it was soft and squidgy. Gradually it began to show some sign of life. "My turn to ask." Tim looked down at the young woman working on his cock. "Ask what?" "Why you're here with a complete stranger selling your sexual favours. The second time tonight." He corrected himself. "At least the second time. I saw you coming from one room, but I don't know if you'd been anywhere else before." "No." Jenny coughed a little to cover her embarrassment. "Why do it?" "Erm...economics. London's an expensive place to live these days." Tim nodded. "The cost of housing. I know. Going out of the roof, isn't it? Frankly, I can't afford to live here. I've a flat in the north. Not always convenient, but it certainly makes more financial sense." He was hardening. Jenny put her hands round his penis and rolled it between her palms. "Umm." Tim sighed with pleasure. "That's good." He leaned forward and sucked on her breasts. Jenny had a sudden image of the baby Hart taking milk from his mother's teat. She stifled a giggle. She also shuddered a little at the touch of his lips and tongue on her nipples. She was wet. Her juices were freely flowing and she hated to think what reaction the room-maid would have in the morning when she saw the state of the covers at the foot of the bed. Tim stood upright. "You're doing a grand job down there." "Thank you." "A really professional touch." Jenny blushed. If her job came to a sudden end it looked as if she was equipped to take up a new profession. She enclosed his cock with her lips and wondered if she could possibly enjoy doing this sort of thing on a regular basis. She was certainly enjoying it now, but this hardly counted. The penis in her mouth had grown erect and firm. She reckoned it was ready for business and she knew she was ready to take it. Jenny looked up. "I want you to fuck me. Now." He smiled; the same smile that beamed down from a cinema screen and made female hearts beat faster. How many of them would envy her this moment? "No condom?" he asked. "No. It's all right. I'm on the pill." "Bareback. Better and better." She sank back on the bed and spread her legs, at the same time fingering her clit. She moaned softly as his cock nudged against her labia which opened to welcome it. He slid in smoothly with a slight squishing sound as his cock pushed through her juices. Although not over large his instrument of pleasure fulfilled its function and Jenny felt little throbbing waves of excitement washing through her body. He gently worked his cock around, pulling away, pushing in, taking his time and slowly guiding her to a climax. "Oh, oh, oh!" she gasped. His rhythm was changing from slow waltz to quick fox-trot. Both of them were breathing faster. She clasped her legs together across his back and he sank a little deeper into her the soft wetness of her pussy. "Oh, oh, oh!" "I'm not going to hold it much longer," Tim gasped. "Fill me!" Jenny urged. He did. She felt his semen flooding into her and hitting the lining of her vagina. After a few moments of bucking and clutching each other, it was over. He laughed. "What's so funny? Jenny demanded. "Nothing. I'm laughing with the sheer joy of humping you. God, that was good. The best fuck I've had for quite a while." "Me, too." Jenny thought of Mark - with more than a little guilt, she had to admit - and how poorly he had performed. If only he had played the game tonight it could be him feeling so ecstatic after fucking her. But he wouldn't. He was nothing but an old stick-in-the-mud who was more than a little prudish. And yet, he still meant a great deal to her and she hated quarrelling with him. After their hot session Jenny and Tim both relaxed. He lounged back in a chair whilst she put a cushion on the floor and leaned against the foot of the bed. Only temporarily sated they chatted about this and that while they waited to commence the next round. They were both naked, but completely at ease. Tim told her about his latest film and reminisced about the past. She came to realise that films and theatre were his entire life. Would any woman be able to share him with his passion for creating characters other than himself? He chuckled. "I remember when I got my first big break. I was only twenty and fresh from drama school. There was a new play being mounted in the West End and I was sent to audition. A casting agent had seen me in an end-of-term production and thought I'd be right for a major part in this play." "And you got it?" "Yes. It was damned good role. Not the lead, but a key character with a lot of emotional acting required. On the first night I was as nervous as hell, but I managed to bring everything together. Got a good reception and felt really chuffed. The next day the reviews were great, especially mine. I felt ten feet tall. That night I went to the theatre expecting to see a little crowd of people in the alley by the stage door waiting for my autograph." "Was there?" He shook his head. "Not a soul." Jenny laughed. "Ego deflation time." "There was worse to come. I went in and asked if there was any mail for me. The Stage Door keeper didn't know who I was. He asked me for my name." "Oh, no!" "And you see, it still happens. I was vaguely familiar to you, but you couldn't think of my name." "I did eventually." "True." "And you're very familiar to me now." She crawled over to him and began work on his manhood. The second time they copulated was on the floor; the third was doggy style and the fourth....yes, dear reader, they managed it four times....was in the comfort of the bed. Tim was exhausted and Jenny was completely satisfied. Playing prostitute had definitely been worth it. She left early in the morning when her lover....correction - client... was stretched out on the bed in a deep sleep. She had taken the eight hundred pounds out of her bag and left it on the bedside table. She had no wish to take Tim's money; the rules of the game forbade it. Quietly closing the door she padded down the corridor, feeling more than a little conspicuous in her prostitute outfit. In her enthusiasm she had somehow forgotten about going home with the workers in the morning. Oh well, play the game. It was all fun, after all and she wasn't so indecent she risked getting arrested. As she reached the door of the room booked by John Hancock it opened and he stepped out. He stopped dead and looked in amazement at the vision before him. "My God! Jenny!" he exclaimed. "Pardon me, monsieur." In her best French accent. "My name is Dominique." "You've been...." he spluttered. "You've been...." He was still unable to complete the sentence. "Doing the business, monsieur." "All night?" "Oui. The client paid well and was most....how do I put it?" "I can't imagine." "Fucking good. My leetle pussy is still full of his seed. You see what you miss, monsieur. You let someone else get it all." With that Dominique/Jenny swayed off towards the lift leaving Mark open-mouthed. He couldn't believe it. She had actually turned herself into a prostitute. How could she? Jenny Cook was a perfectly respectable employee of a serious Sunday paper. Why would she take money for sex? It was incomprehensible. Mark slowly went back into his room, dropped his bag and sank into a chair. He should have left straight away last night. He wouldn't have been here to see her departure from her night of debauchery; PAID debauchery, dammit! She said it was a game; a game for him. Only him. But he refused to play. She looked absurd in that outfit. It was so revealing, so obviously....obviously.... sexy. She had dressed like that for a turn-on. But she didn't need to do that. She was desirable enough as Jenny; as this ridiculous creature, Dominique, she was....she was... Dammit! She was making him hard! Mark put his head in his hands. "Oh, God!" he groaned. ***** The ringing phone was quickly answered. "Hello." "Dominique?" A pause. "Oui, monsieur." "I...I would like to buy your services tonight." "Thees is Monsieur Hancock?" "Er...yes." "Tonight I am available. The price is eight hundred pounds." Mark gulped. "Eight hundred....is that what you got from...from last night's client?" "Oui, monsieur." "Oh. Very well." "He was most satisfied. I give value for money." "I know you do." "You know? But, monsieur, you and I have never fucked. Last night was - how you say - a washover" "Washout," Mark automatically corrected. "I meant to say, I'm sure you do give value for money." "The same hotel and time?" "Yes." "I look forward to it, monsieur." "So do I, Dominique...so do I." "Au revoir." "Yes....goodbye." Mark slowly put the phone back in his pocket. There was the beginning a of a grin, widening into a smile. Dammit, yes! He was looking forward to tonight, as well. With Dominique. In fact, he was looking forward to a lot more nights with the tantalising prostitute. But he would have to negotiate a better price!