1 comments/ 7538 views/ 3 favorites The Wooing of a London Soubrette By: johndstories Chapter I "Well at least it's better than that place in Innsbruck," Grace said matter-of-factly as she peered into one of the bare cupboards. "That place was absolutely awful." Sandy sniffed the stuffy room as the cupboard swung open and was grateful when Grace closed it again; it was musty and stunk. "Yeah, OK, we had to share a bed, but that wasn't too bad. My feet don't smell that badly!" "It wasn't sharing with you that I didn't like," Grace muttered. "I actually quite liked that. It was sharing with the cockroaches that I hated." "Yeah, but they left after a few days." "I know, they couldn't stand the smell of your feet." Grace teased and smiled at Sandy who put her giant rucksack on the table and pulled out some teabags from a side pocket. "Drink, my dear Gracie?" "Lovely," replied the nineteen-year-old who had opened the fridge and quickly closed it again when she smelt the inside. "What did Ronnie and Reggie have to say?" Sandy grinned, and giggled. "Neville and Jack, you mean," she told her, in her soft Danish accent. "Twenty-five pounds a week, I paid for five weeks up front while you were messing about in town." "I was getting some essentials," Grace corrected her abruptly and then asked, "I meant about the parlour." She took the black tea from her friend who raised an eyebrow. Sandy grinned. "They said they'd give us a go in a couple of days' time. Boris had already spoken to him a few weeks ago and said we were pretty good." Grace smiled. "Ahh, Boris. The hairiest man I have ever met!" "And weirdest," Sandy moaned. "He has some unusual tastes," Grace admitted. "But then I don't mind if he wants us to do that to him. I gotta pee somewhere!" Sandy winced as Grace reminded her of the kinkier side to one of their previous hosts. "And he knows everyone." "True, he has good contacts all over Europe," Sandy mused. Grace nodded. "I think we've met most of them. Thank God for him knowing Ronnie and Reggie!". Grace was acutely aware that their cash reserves were getting lower than she would have liked and they did need to start earning soon, but Sandy detected another reason for the smirk. "You're getting desperate, how long without sex?" Grace shook her shoulder-length hair back and put a bobble in it while contemplating the question. "Six days, not since Daniel in Madrid. If you don't count the blowjob the lorry driver got for the lift." Sandy gave her friend a wry smile, they had both enjoyed the attentions of Daniel who was particularly attracted to Sandy, but Madrid was not the city of sordid opportunities they had hoped for and after spending two weeks doing restaurant work and getting paid very little, they decided to cut their losses and crossed Spain to a small port on the Northern coast to catch a ferry to Plymouth. "A week," Sandy teased. "That's almost celibate for you!" Grace spluttered and sat down in one the rickety chairs around a scratched dining table. "Hang on, you're calling me and you're the one who's had hundreds of partners! And I'm sure it was your turn to pay for the ride." Sandy spluttered. "No. I paid to get us into Spain. And he wanted it up the backside. You try doing that while he is driving, there just isn't 'nough room in the cab for that!" Grace hummed as Sandy took a seat opposite and looked around the kitchen. The flat was dated, it was the ground floor of a three-storey house. The landlord had told them that the upper floor was vacant but the middle floor was occupied with some Eastern Europeans, although he rarely saw them and they just dropped off their rent money at his office once a week. The area itself wasn't bad, located a brisk twenty minute walk from the wilds of Soho, the houses in the immediate vicinity looked, by and large, well maintained and lived in. At the end of the street, the big detached house had fallen down and there was now a pile of rubble on some waste ground that was once a large expansive garden, and the pub a few doors down from their flat was boarded up, but it on the whole, the neighbourhood wasn't too shabby. They had certainly lived in far worse in the previous eighteen months. "It's not too bad, I suppose. It'll be home soon enough," Grace admitted and took a long slurp of her hot drink. "Also I really need you shave me tonight." Sandy gave Grace her familiar smile. "Of course, love." "It rubbed a bit on the boat coming over. And I could hardly ask you to do it in the hostel." "What with that gal?" "Yeah, she was freaky, but it is very uncomfortable." "You could be more natural. As nature intended." Grace stared at her friend and shook her head. "I know you like the more natural look but I am fed up cleaning men's spunk from my pubes when they want to come over my cunt. It's just messy." Sandy gave her friend a wide grin. She knew exactly what Grace meant, although it had been months since she had permitted a partner to have sex with her without a condom. Grace liked being bare "down there," because she thought it looked nicer and said it felt better; she was lying if she said it was for practical reasons! * * * * * Grace lay with a towel underneath her as the well-dressed Sandy liberally applied some shaving foam to her nether regions. "I could do this to you, you know," Grace offered. "No I like my trimmed pussy," Sandy replied and picked up Grace's razor, dragging over the stubble. "I am very attached to playing with it when I am bored." Grace took a breath every time Sandy went near her labia but she needn't have worried. Sandy had been doing this three or four times a week for months, and had not cut her yet, but she was still nervous. She finished and dowsed Grace's nether regions with some warm water to wash away any foam residue. "Still look likes too much effort," Sandy moaned, ignoring the small fact that it was her that kept Grace's pussy shaved, and put the bowl on the side. Grace motioned the Danish teenager, to join her on the bed and threw the towel on the floor. Grace was naked but Sandy had been trying on a dress she had bought that day when Grace had knocked on her door with the shaving foam, razor and a pleading look. It was a white figure-hugging, very short dress that displayed Sandy's large breasts wonderfully and had sent Grace's pulse racing the moment she saw it. Grace was used to seeing Sandy naked and even though she considered herself "straight" she was still very fond of the odd fumble with her best friend from time to time. Six days was a long time for her to go without some sort of sexual attention! "Thank you," Grace whispered as Sandy lay down on the bed. Sandy knew immediately what Grace would want and as Grace leaned in to kiss the staunchly independent girl, she ruffled her hands through Grace's long hair. Sandy closed her eyes as their tongues met, and they began kissing and fondling each other. "Hang on," Sandy said and sat up, slipping the dress over her head and returned her attention to Grace, who had been enjoying stroking the smooth, tort fabric over her, but was more than satisfied with the bare skin that replaced it. Sandy pushed her tongue deeper into Grace's willing mouth and stroked her face. Their bodies, pushed up against each other on the single bed, glided as Grace ground her torso against Sandy's, their nipples rubbing against each other. Grace rubbed the flanks and the torso of her bisexual lover. The firm body of Sandy felt like heaven to her, it always did, and she squirmed as Sandy moved her hands from Grace's hair to the freshly shaven mons; Grace instantly parted her legs with a smile. Sandy broke from the kissing and peered into Grace's eyes. She slipped her finger alongside Grace's slit and her thumb touched her clit, which sent a shiver of arousal through the young lady. Sandy noted the sigh and slid two fingers along her labia and into her soaking wet pussy that eagerly accepted the older girl's finger. Grace moaned and started kissing Sandy again. Deep waves of pleasure shot through the English girl as Sandy pushed her fingers in and out of the drenched cunt. Sandy smiled at the writhing girl; she had met many girls during her travels but had never met anyone as sexual as herself, until she met Grace. Grace loved sex, and made no secret of it, but she was also a good, loyal friend that shared many interests with her. She was perfect. Grace had her eyes closed, was mewing, sighing and groaning as Sandy lovingly probed her moist hole. "Spread your legs wide," Sandy told her and Grace did so immediately, holding onto the backs of her thighs as Sandy withdrew her fingers. Sandy scooted down the bed, lifted her thighs and peered between her legs. Grace was hairless and whatever Sandy had said about having a bald cunt, she liked the feeling of going down on Grace when she was completely shaved. Sandy gently prised open Grace's lips and her tongue reached out and flicked her clitoris. Grace flinched and cried. Sandy knew what Grace liked and pushed her tongue as far into the hole as she could. Grace began to rock against the bed, humping her friend's mouth as Sandy lapped at the walls of her opening. Grace cried out as Sandy got more frenzied in her oral assault of her genitals and her Danish friend knew that she was approaching a climax. Grace's breathing quickened and she moaned and groaned louder and louder. Grace arched her back and gave an instinctive, passionate cry. Sandy maintained her pace, sucking and licking the bucking girl as she rode the crest of her orgasm, and then Sandy moved up her slit to her clitoris. They had done this many times, and Sandy ran a finger down and into Grace's hole. She then withdrew it and positioned it over Grace's bud. Grace shrieked with joy as Sandy slid the lubricated finger into her ass and began sucking on her pearl. She bucked and writhed as Sandy expertly brought her to a second orgasm in minutes, and then a third. "Your turn," Grace muttered with closed eyes and Sandy jumped up and presented her own moist slit to her friend. Sandy was used to having Grace underneath her, it was one of their favourite positions and Sandy groaned loudly as Grace touched her engorged clitoris. It didn't take long for Sandy to come, and then she started encircling Grace's clit with her thumb as Grace ate her out again. Her body convulsed and twitched as Grace confidently lapped her friend's cunt to orgasm and when they were too tired to continue, got into bed cuddling. Grace and Sandy were kindred spirits and experienced lovers, but they were also the only friends or family each other acknowledged that they had. Chapter II "You OK?" Grace asked the frail woman struggling down the road. She had two bags of shopping and this was clearly too heavy for her as she buckled under the weight. "Oh I'm fine, darling. Nearly home." Grace looked at her watch, she was early for her shift, and turned around. "Here, let me help." "That's very kind of you," the lady replied and passed the bags to Grace who followed her up the road. "If my Jeffrey was here, he'd have no problems with them. It's my legs, you see." Grace humoured the woman by listening to her and nodding, as they progressed at a slow pace to the house adjacent to hers. "You're my neighbour," she murmured as the lady unlocked the door. "Oh, did you hear that couple on the ground floor last night. Oh, it kept me awake, it did. Shameful." Grace stayed silent and suppressed a smile, allowing the old woman to continue. "I mean you must be right on top of them, you must have heard it also." Grace nodded, clearly the woman thought she was Eastern European, her mother was from Czechoslovakia and she had inherited a lot of features from her mother, and she didn't want to correct the assumption. "Everyone is only young once, aren't they?" The woman sighed. "Oh you must have heard them. Wake up the souls of the dead they will. The souls of the dead." Grace put the shopping in her front room and went to leave, explaining that she would be late for work. The woman thanked her, and tried to put a coin in her hand but Grace refused. Money might be tighter than she would have liked, but she wasn't reduced to taking money for favours. Well, not those sorts of favours anyway! * * * * * Grace ran her hands down the back of the tall gentleman. He was only a couple of years older than herself, which was a definite improvement on the first week of working at the massage parlour. He would be her last client of the night before she could go home and she was looking forward to getting out of the stuffy rooms. Grace put the thoughts of her warm bed out of her mind. She had been warned many months ago when she first started working in the sex industry that it was a bad idea to let your mind wander, and although the massage was tedious, if she "lost interest" in the client and he noticed then he won't come back or worse, he would make a complaint to the manager. The gentleman purred as her hands darted up her back and massaged his collarbone. He had been usually chatty for a punter and had wanted to engage in conversation with her as she massaged his back and legs with the oils. She had tried to steer the chat away from herself; it was a classic ploy for punters to try and find out as much about the "girl" that they were about to screw and she was a little uncomfortable about it. She used her mothers' name, Katerina, while working and had never used her real name, Grace, until it slipped out a few moments ago when her guard was down. For his part, the gentleman was very forthcoming but in a friendly way, she was used to her clients being a little aggressive or demanding, but he was laid-back, pleasant and just there to enjoy himself. He treated Grace as his willing partner and talked to her like it was a date, introducing himself and talking about his life, as well as showing a similar interest in Grace. To this end, Grace found out that his name was Terry Williams and he was 24. He lived in Cheshire and worked for the family building firm but was about to take it over with a partner. He had a sister, no children but a fianc‚e. The small matter that he was here on a stag night and about to engage in sexual intercourse with another woman did not seem to deter him from telling Grace that he loved Anne and had bought her a diamond ring to seal their engagement. Grace certainly warmed to Terry, he was a little smarmy and hypocritical but there was a harmlessness innocence to him that she liked. She parted his legs to start on his thighs and he looked back and smiled. "Rugby legs," he told her and she nodded. "They're like tree trunks," she said and squeezed the top of his toned thigh. He clenched his buttocks and she got a glimpse of his testicles - they were big! Terry gave a satisfied moan as she deftly ran her hands down his thighs and calves. She knew he wanted sex, they had agreed on a price and taken his fifteen pounds before they had started with the massage. She glanced at the clock. She had been massaging him for half-an-hour and it was about time they started unless they wanted to not finish on time, and the manager start asking awkward questions and docking wages. She gestured for the gentleman to roll over, which he smiled and did. She normally charged extra for a blow-job but if she liked the guy she would use her mouth as prelude to intercourse and to get him hard. In all her years of experience, she hadn't met a guy who didn't appreciate her lips around their member. Grace very much did like him, and he was the last customer of the night, but most of all, he was the closest guy to her age, and the cleanest partner she had had for weeks and she wanted him to come back to her if he was to come back to the parlour at all. "Just to get you in the mood," she whispered, looked up at him and wrapped her lips around the tip of his erect shaft. He groaned and she slid her tongue over his sensitive glans. Terry sucked in breath sharply. He had only ever received a blow job once and it was a very special sensation then. He put his hands on the top of Grace's head and stroked her hair. Grace bobbed up and down on his shaft, it rapidly filled with blood to become fully erect. Terry grabbed hold of the edge of the table and gave a nasal groan. Grace continued and put her fist at the base of his cock to gently pump it as her tongue whirled away over the top of his penis. Her left hand darted over his oiled thighs and he groaned loudly. "That's good. I'm in the mood," Terry panted and Grace looked up at him. "Do you want to me to fuck you or suck you?" She asked and grinned. "Or can you manage both?" Grace found herself saying; giving away free sex, she'd destroy her own market! Terry gave a weird grunt as Grace sucked on the tip of his member. "Oh both please," he murmured and her hands touched his testicles and then his perineum. "Oh fuck," Terry shouted and his muscles tightened. He began rocking back and forth, pivoting on his hips, and panting sharply. He felt a deep tightness across the backs of his testicles that Grace was happily stroking. She felt the twitch, she knew he was about to unload his seed into her mouth. She was used to it, but Terry tried to withdraw, pushing his body into the worn towel on the barely padded bench, when he felt the passionate desperation in his loins; his only other oral experience ended in a row when he didn't pull out. Grace didn't let him and clamped her mouth over his rod. "I'm coming," Terry whimpered and Grace ran her tongue underneath his head. Terry spewed his semen into her warm mouth with a shuddering grunt and a volley of mewed cries. Grace took all of his semen, looked up the table at him and made an exaggerated swallowing motion with a sultry look at him. He looked at her open-mouthed, panting as his cock slowly stopped twitching. "You swallowed it. Girls don't normally swallow, do they?" Grace chuckled and kissed him on the cheek. "Depends on the girl, doesn't it?" Terry sat up and looked at his deflated cock. "Not sure I'll manage to get it up again and finished in fifteen minutes," he replied forlornly and Grace kissed the shaft and then the tip. "If you tell the manager I was brilliant and you'll be looking to come back with everyone next time, I can squeeze in an extra fifteen or twenty minutes without getting screwed by him," Grace told Terry as she gently caressed his testicles and then his shaft. "Oh I'll be doing that all right," Terry muttered and Grace smiled, took his shaft in her mouth and began to get him hard again. "And a big, strong stud like you, twice in half-an-hour shouldn't be a problem, right?" It took five minutes for Terry to be "ready" and a further sixty seconds for Grace to be "ready"; she was already feeling unusually horny, even for her, and her body had gushed in response. She put a condom on the guy and he mounted her. He had wanted to do her doggy style so she was bent over the massage table as Terry positioned his cock into her hole, which she gently guided in. She gasped and Terry asked if she was OK. "You're so thick," she replied and clamped her pussy muscles onto his rock hard member. "That's very nice," she murmured and Terry chuckled. He gradually started building up a gentle rhythm, pushing his rod all the way into her canal and then sliding back out. She felt his pubic hair tickle her buttocks. She felt his rod slide along the front of her vaginal wall and moaned loudly. She always told herself she mustn't orgasm at work, and often faked it when required, but there was a feeling of warmth, an excitement she rarely felt with a client. Her loins were on fire and she sighed, moaning again. Terry grabbed hold of her waist and was swinging her back onto his member. She groaned, and grabbed hold of the edge of the table. Terry was ramming his cock into her with some strength. She squealed and was rocking back in tune with his rhythm. The Wooing of a London Soubrette She released a grunt and a breath with every stroke he made. She was feeling her own climax building. Who was this guy? How was a punter making her so horny? She tried to put these thoughts out of her mind and to think of asexual images, to stop herself from reaching a peak. She mustn't orgasm. She just couldn't, not with a client. Terry was getting ready to come again; the joys of being a 24-year-old were clearly apparent! Grace was manipulating and stroking his cock with her internal muscles and Terry was seeing stars; no girl had ever done that to him before and he thought that this woman, this Grace, was incredible in bed. With one last thrust, his testicles emptied themselves into the rubber condom and they stayed motionless for a moment, soaking up the warmth between them before separating. Grace was a little relieved but far from sated; she would need the attentions of Sandy when she got home. "Wow!" Terry said looking at the bedraggled Grace. "You're so amazing," he told her and she beamed at him. Like any girl, she still liked compliments! She kissed him on the cheek and guided him to the little shower room. "You weren't so bad yourself," she replied and ran her fingers over his back. He was cute, very cute, but unfortunately he was also a punter. * * * * * "What the hell is that?" Grace asked as she entered the kitchen naked. A small furry mound was busy eating a bowl of meat and Grace screwed up her face. "It's a cat," Sandy said with all seriousness. "I know it's a cat, but we don't have a cat," "We've been adopted," Sandy told her and Grace shook her head. "Well we can be unadopted? It's a mangy thing." Sandy and Grace stared at the black and white creature. It was thin and its fur all matted. "It just needs some love," Sandy replied. "Like we all do." Grace grunted and threw herself onto the chair, taking a sip of Sandy's drink. "Hey Neville said there is some work at an all-night party at the weekend if we want it. Some guy wants a dozen whores for all-night fun. There is lots of money in it as only two have signed up so far and he's getting desperate." Grace enquired how much and after agreeing with Sandy that it was a generous sum offered to attend with her. The massage parlour was paying well but she wanted some extra work to build up some cash and their landlords were more than happy to supply them with all the immoral work they could handle. "And anyway, this cat needs fresh meat every day," Sandy muttered and Grace just giggled as the naked Dane stroked the black and white cat. * * * * * "Hey, Grace!" A voice from behind her shouted. She turned and Sandy gave her a wry smile. They had spent the last seven hours at the massage parlour doing a "day shift" that finished at nine and were walking along the pavement towards their house. "Another bloke," she teased and Grace screwed up her eyes. The gentleman ran over to them and when he became visible under the street light, she recognised him immediately, he was the guy from two nights previous: but what was his name? "A punter," she murmured and Sandy looked at her strangely. "You gave a punter your real name, honestly Grace I thought you knew better than that." "Yes I know," Grace replied sharply. "He caught me off-guard." "Yeah but ..." Sandy stopped as Grace glared at her. She waited for the man to catch up with them and then replied in a guarded tone. "Hey." He looked at Sandy and then her companion. "What's happening?" Terry asked. Grace looked at him. He was wearing a dark red shirt, with tight white trousers and she smiled; he looked vaguely fashionable if nothing else. "We are off home. Been working all night." "Can I not interest you in a drink?" He asked. "There is some live music on at a club just down the road. I'd love to take a couple of lovely ladies." Sandy laughed coyly while Grace hesitated. Sandy was certainly interested in the punter who had managed to squeeze Grace's real name out of her, she had never met anyone who had managed to do that, and he seemed nice enough. "You're just hoping for a freebie," Grace muttered and Terry shook his head. "No way. I've got separated from Charlie and the crew on the stag night. I don't want to go back to the hotel so early on mi'own." Grace hummed. "And I want to thank you for the freebie I did get." Sandy turned to her blushing friend, whose redness was hidden by the dusk and stared at her. "You gave out free sex." Terry smiled. "I got a blowjob. None of the other guys got one. A couple of drinks. I'll keep my hands to myself, promise. Just le'mme say thank you!" Sandy looked at Grace again who was concerned. There was something charming about this guy and that worried her. She had had hundreds of punters and never really liked any of them, they were just soulless business transactions, but he was better than all of them. He had certainly eclipsed the usual ambivalence she felt, but that didn't mean she wanted to go dancing with him. While Grace wrestled with her conscience, Sandy answered for her. "We'd love to," Sandy replied, and Grace screwed up her face at the Danish girl. "And you can tell me all about yourself. We'd love to know." "You sure?" He asked Grace and she nodded. There was no way she was about to let Sandy go out with a strange guy on her own. "Yeah, and thanks for talking to the manager, he was all smiles when I went home." "No worries, you were, sorry you are, incredible." Terry held out his arms to both of them and set off down the road, with both of the gorgeous girls on tow. He felt like George Best! Chapter III "Hey babe," a drunken reveller shouted at her at a break in the live music. She had been entertaining the gentlemen at the party all night and was feeling decidedly tired; she had certainly earned her money but smiled at the guy staggering over to her. "Were you the girl who fucked ol' Georgie?" He pointed at a drunken guy collapsed in the corner and she nodded. "He said you had the loveliest cunt he had ever seen." He shouted, and there was near silence in the room. "Who wants to see her cunt?" There was cheer amongst the music and Sandy appeared behind her. "They want you naked babe." "Let's have all the chicks naked," cried a voice from the other side of the room and Grace looked around. She knew five of them were there as "entertainment" but there was at least four times that number who were guests but as the chanting and hollering started all of them stripped to satisfy the testosterone-filled urges in the room. Grace peeled her silk lingerie off that the host had provided: she was paid to do this and couldn't complain, but got groped as she did, and the provided underwear disappeared into the crowd as soon as it had been removed from her. Certainly the party had got more hedonistic and debauched as the night had wore on, and the alcohol consumption had risen. "Hey, a shaved fanny," yelled a girl in front of her and eyes descended on Grace. She was stroked, fondled and manhandled as every guy in the room wanted to feel her smooth, glabrous womanhood. She looked around, she was the only woman in the room she could see without pubic hair and a couple of gentleman took an unusual interest in her all of a sudden. Perhaps she looked a bit too young, and they were creepy. Grace was used to undesirable gentleman, half of the men at the parlour were what Sandy called "inky" and she was used to be treated as a sexual object, but she was not going to complain: she was getting paid an enormous sum of money just to drink free beer, give blow jobs and fuck anyone who asked. She was earning in one night what she would earn in over a week at the massage parlour although she was beginning to be a little sore and was quite glad she wasn't working there for a couple of days. Sandy had come to her rescue half way through the night and slipped her a small tube of K-Y Jelly which she was discreetly using to reduce friction. It was a common ploy in the massage parlour, but worked very well at the party as the guys were fairly drunk and she was having to put condoms on them anyway so a small squirt of lubrication as she positioned them into her was not noticed and they came pretty quickly from the intercourse. "Let's see the two girls fuck," a voice cried and Grace was pushed towards Sandy, and they gave each other knowing smiles. "Sure," Grace cried. "You can go on top!" * * * * * "I haven't got my knickers or my bra," Sandy moaned as they stepped into the road. The room where they got changed had been raided as souvenirs and a large number of clothes had disappeared from when they arrived to when they left, although their cash for the night was still in the safe, to everyone's relief. The party was a fifteen minute walk from their house, residing in one of the more fashionable parts of London and the girls had opted for a brisk walk instead of an expensive taxi ride. "Well I am bottomless," Grace whinged and Sandy peered down at her friends predicament. "You do look sexy though," Sandy told her and Grace wrapped her coat around her to protect her modesty as much as possible. The wind rustled up her thighs and it did feel sensual as the coat barely reached her waist. "Hey, we really worked for our cash, eh?" Grace smiled and darted between the street lights. "Yeah. One guy just keep coming back for blow jobs. He was hurting my jaw in the end." Sandy chuckled. "I know. I had a guy who loved my ass. I reckon I went though twenty rubbers tonight." Grace nodded and darted down behind a parked car as cyclist came past. "Oh Grace, don't be silly, it's just a cyclist. And he looks like Terry." Grace peered out, wondering if the guy was Terry, if he was stalking her but it wasn't. "I saw you looking. Hoping that it was I bet." Sandy teased. Grace scoffed at her friend and replied scornfully, "don't be silly." Sandy poked her tongue out at Grace and shook her head. "I know you better than that, you were checking out his butt last night. You had that horny look in your eye." "I didn't. He is just some punter who thinks I might want to be his girlfriend." "Well I still think you should have given more than three dances," Sandy told her as the meandered their way through the piles of rotting rubbish on the kerb. "He did pay for your drinks and his hands didn't wander. And Gracie, he is so cute. I bet you were thinking of him at the party." "I was not," Grace lied indignantly and then sighed. "And anyway, he was a punter," Grace added wearily. They had been having this conversation all day and she was getting very tired of it. "I just don't date people who pay me for sex. It's messy." "It is a little messy. But he was cute," Sandy replied, repeating the sum total of her argument. "Remember the way he insisted on paying for your drinks and all he wanted was a peck on the cheek in return. Are you sure he is just a punter, he said some really nice things about you?" Grace groaned as she recollected. Terry had certainly been very complimentary about her, how she looked and danced, and he did keep his hands to himself when they were dancing but he still paid her for sex, and that made him off-limits and unsuitable boyfriend material. "And he walked us to the end of our street," Sandy reminded her. This was true, Grace had insisted that he go no further citing parlour rules, and he was quite happy with this. She watched him sulk off into the night as Sandy and her walked up their poorly-lit road to bed. "He certainly likes you." "That's true, he does." Sandy bit her lip for a moment and then confessed. "When you went to the toilet, he did sort of ask when you were next working." Grace spun round and looked at her friend under the street light. "Please tell me you didn't tell him," she pleaded and Sandy looked apologetically sheepish. "Oh great! Well at least I've got two days of peace," she replied sharply. She wasn't annoyed with Sandy, she was never annoyed with her, but she had wished she hadn't divulged to him when she would be working. But then, all he had to do was ring the massage parlour anyway, and she could hardly be a prostitute who wasn't happy to have sex! "So if you didn't like him," Sandy asked, "why did you give him a free blowjob?" Grace sighed, the same thought had occurred to her also. * * * * * Grace slid the dildo into her well lubricated pussy, and faked a groan. She kept making exaggerated and loud moans as she pumped the fake phallus into her quicker and quicker. She made a loud, explosive orgasm and then started panting. "And cut! Oh Kat that was wonderful. Just the photos now and we'll be done." Grace picked up a towel and wiped the lubricant, masquerading as juices of female arousal from her nether regions and threw the dildo off the bed. She had taken up a friend of Neville's offer of making some pornography but didn't expect it to be so pathetically boring. While Grace's father was English, her mother came from Eastern Europe and so she had a smattering of continental facial features that the director liked; foreign girls always sold well and he was confident that if he gave her a foreign name on the credits, something like Tatana or Svetlana, then it would sell very, very well. For that reason, Grace was not permitted to speak she had to groan, moan, fuck, suck and squeal, but not utter a single English word. Sandy had also swung herself some extra work, she was working in an illegal casino, serving drinks almost naked and encouraging customers to spend more money than they could afford. As much as she found most of the work at the parlour dispiriting and gloomy, making pornography was soulless and depressing. She was glad she would be returning to the more familiar surroundings the following day. * * * * * Grace and Sandy pushed open the door to the massage parlour. The manager was behind the little desk, smoking and greeted them as they came in. "Look lively gals," he said is his cockney accent. "It's openin'" Grace and Sandy darted into the little room and got changed into more revealing attire and returned a few minutes later. "Oh Gracie," her manager called as she emerged. "There's a geezer in the end room for ya. He asked for yew only." Sandy smiled. "I bet it's Terry." "Oh I hope not," Grace replied and the manager shooed her along the corridor to the room at the end. It was. Grace bit her lip and stared at the tall guy sat on the massage table. She was a little annoyed that he had returned and asked specially for her, but he was just a client, and she preferred him to most of her other punters so she returned a forced smile. "Lie down," he told her and she stared at him, motionless. He jumped up from the table and held out his hand where he had been. "Pardon?" "Lie down," he grinned and she peered at him confused. "I want to massage you." Grace chuckled. "It doesn't work like that, hun." "But I want to," She cocked her head. "Why?" "Cos I do. I've only got you for an hour so just let me." Grace sighed and stared at him confused. "You really want to give me a massage?" "Yes, I want to make you smile. So hurry up, get your top off and let me start." Terry cracked his knuckles so Grace peeled off her white tank top and laid across the table. There were some oils on the side, and she guided him to use a token amount and then warm it up first in his hands. It had been several weeks since Sandy had given Grace a massage, and she forgot how much she enjoyed them. Sure, Terry wasn't that good, he wasn't experienced but he had strong hands and was soft with his movements and his flowing motions caused her to purr contently once he had told her to just relax and stop worrying. She sighed and glanced up at the clock. They had had fifteen minutes already and she was forgetting where she was and what she was supposed to be doing. "Don't you want one from me now?" Terry shook his head and then realised she couldn't see him and muttered that he didn't. He had tried not to talk too much, this didn't come naturally to him and he was concentrating on what he did. He had spent the last three days reading up on massage techniques and had even visited a massage parlour in Manchester to ask the young lady to teach him the art of massage. This caused her much amusement until she realised he was serious and although he had paid for it, he did not want sex with her, just an hour of tuition. Why was he doing this? He simply didn't know. There was something about Grace he could not put a finger on that made her so wonderful. Maybe it was the fact that she was not immediately submissive to him after that chance meeting when he took her to the club, but his eyes twinkled when he saw her, and her indifference towards him he put down to reticence and not a dislike of him. Every girl he had ever taken out had warmed to him quickly and it had been easy; his parents were very well-off and Terry was never short of money, and he was a generous man by nature. Too often he wondered if the girls liked him because of the notes in his wallet, but here was a girl who he had warmed to immediately, and who liked him but was being evasive and hard to get. The thrill of the chase added to her allure. Grace was also trying to rationalise Terry's behaviour but couldn't manage it so she just enjoyed his hands working their way over her skin. She was worried he would want to ask her out, or start stalking her so she had to display a coldness, but she did like him, he had a cheeky smile, a good sense of humour and a warm personality. Terry asked Grace to turn over, which she did, displaying her firm breasts and hourglass figure. He smiled when he looked into her eyes. "Do you mind if I take these off?" Terry asked as he pointed towards her knickers and she smiled at him. Most punters would have ripped them off but he was asking for permission politely and with genuine sincerity. She smiled. "Of course you can," she replied and he slid them down her legs, admiring the labia poking out through the skin. "You've paid for me to take them off." "You are very gorgeous," he told her. "As beautiful as a rose petal." Grace blushed. Terry beamed at the girl and started massaging her thighs. She closed her eyes and he kissed her on the nipple, taking her erect point in his lips and swirling his tongue to meet it. He had dreamt of Grace every night for the last five nights, and she had been the subject of his masturbation all week; he went rock hard the moment his lips made contact with her. She opened her eyes and smiled at him. He hadn't asked for, or paid for sex but she knew from his behaviour he would probably want it. She deliberated how to broach it, but let herself go with it for the time being. She was enjoying his soft, gentle movements. He sucked her other nipple. She felt a deft hand touch the top of her hairless sex. She gave a gentle grunt and his fingers wandered down her wet, slippery fold. She sighed and opened her eyes. "Don't you want ..." Terry shook his head and kissed her stomach and then her mons, and his tongue finally took the place of his fingers. "I want you to relax and smile." Grace opened her eyes wide, and started when his lips made contact. This was getting weird. In all the massage parlours and brothels she had worked at over the last two years, she had never, never had a guy go down on her. Even her boyfriends since she had first had sex six years ago, refused or only did it under protest. What was going through this guys mind? Her ponderings were cut short as his lips darted up and down her labia and then poked at her pearl. She squealed and he sucked gently on the little button. Grace's hands started massaging her breasts and Terry grinned. His hands went to the mouth of her pussy and oscillated in the hole. Grace cried out and Terry rolled his tongue around her engorged clitoris. 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.