'So what do you want to do?'
'I want to make love to you.'
'Like the full‐on Barry White kind?'
'Oh yes.' We wrestled in the bedsheets for the better part of an hour. His hair was soft and thick and smelled slightly metallic.
'What can I do to make you come?'
'It's very complicated. We'd be here all night.' I don't come with clients. Some people don't kiss, which I think is rubbish. It's just lips after all. But orgasms I save for some-86
one else. This isn't difficult ‐ I've never reached orgasm too easily.
'That sounds ideal.'
'Yes, but do you have a drill press and six goats? Also, the planets are not in the correct alignment.'
'Fair dues. I'll know for next time.' He slipped me his card on the way out, said he wanted to meet for a drink sometime. 'The ball is in your court,' he said, as I tripped down his steps to the waiting taxi. In the staccato beams of the streetlights through the car windows, I peeked at the card. Pink and green, engraved, fashionable font, and would have been tempted if I was single, though I can't imagine how a couple that met in such a situation would explain it to their friends.
'I do not like his type,' the manager said when 1 rang her on the way home. 'Surely he will write a report.' There are websites dedicated to punters reviewing the charms of various escorts, and even what you might think was a successful encounter does not guarantee a positive review. If only we could turn round and review them right back.
The cabbie circled a random block in Kensington for the third time. They must think I don't notice.
'So what was he like?'
'Perfect gentleman, actually.' A disbelieving snort down the other end of the phone. 'Had him wrapped round my little finger.'
Very quickly I got into the habit of saying that whether it was true or not. I don't want her to worry and I don't want to fall out of favour.
mardi, le 30 decembre
'There is a client, he wants to pee on you,' the manager said. 1
swear if someone ever got hold of transcripts of my phone calls, they'd probably think I was a ‐ oh wait, I am.
87
'He wants to what?' I asked, knowing very well what she said.
'Pee. On you. Don't worry, darling, not in your clothes. You will be in a bath.' 'A bath of what? Urine?' 'No, just a normal bath.'
I sighed weakly. 'You know I don't do degradation.' Not at work, at any rate. I know it sounds odd, but even when W was treating me worst, I knew it was because he cared. I'd be reluctant to let a stranger do anything similar.
'Oh, no, not like that at all, darling,' she said. 'He doesn't want you to be degraded. He wants to pee on a girl who enjoys it.'
Eventually I agreed, but only with a significant mark‐up in the usual fee. The client was rather nice and seemed exceedingly shy.
We talked for a little while and had a drink ‐spirits for me and a large beer for him. The better to fill the bladder with, I suppose.
When it came time to do the deed I stripped him from the waist down, got all my kit off and knelt in an empty bathtub.
He looked at me, looked at the wall above me and sighed.
Nothing happened for a couple of minutes. I was starting to get cold. 'Is everything okay?' I asked.
'It's not going to happen. I'm too turned on,' he said. He looked down again. 'If I look at you, I'll get hard. If I look away, I'll think of what's going to happen, and get hard.'
'Try thinking of something that doesn't turn you on.'
'Such as?'
'Your mother shopping for underwear for you. With you in tow.
Aged thirty‐five.' He started to laugh. I felt the first trickle hit my neck, roll down my breasts.
Afterwards I showered while he watched me. He started to make vague shy‐guy noises as I dried my hair and dressed. 'Are you okay?' I asked.
88
'I think I have some more,' he said, blushing, gesturing towards his knob. 'You don't have to say yes, but I don't suppose I could put it in a glass and—'
'Er, no, thank you,' I said. 'Health and safety and all that.'
'Some people drink it
'I want to make love to you.'
'Like the full‐on Barry White kind?'
'Oh yes.' We wrestled in the bedsheets for the better part of an hour. His hair was soft and thick and smelled slightly metallic.
'What can I do to make you come?'
'It's very complicated. We'd be here all night.' I don't come with clients. Some people don't kiss, which I think is rubbish. It's just lips after all. But orgasms I save for some-86
one else. This isn't difficult ‐ I've never reached orgasm too easily.
'That sounds ideal.'
'Yes, but do you have a drill press and six goats? Also, the planets are not in the correct alignment.'
'Fair dues. I'll know for next time.' He slipped me his card on the way out, said he wanted to meet for a drink sometime. 'The ball is in your court,' he said, as I tripped down his steps to the waiting taxi. In the staccato beams of the streetlights through the car windows, I peeked at the card. Pink and green, engraved, fashionable font, and would have been tempted if I was single, though I can't imagine how a couple that met in such a situation would explain it to their friends.
'I do not like his type,' the manager said when 1 rang her on the way home. 'Surely he will write a report.' There are websites dedicated to punters reviewing the charms of various escorts, and even what you might think was a successful encounter does not guarantee a positive review. If only we could turn round and review them right back.
The cabbie circled a random block in Kensington for the third time. They must think I don't notice.
'So what was he like?'
'Perfect gentleman, actually.' A disbelieving snort down the other end of the phone. 'Had him wrapped round my little finger.'
Very quickly I got into the habit of saying that whether it was true or not. I don't want her to worry and I don't want to fall out of favour.
mardi, le 30 decembre
'There is a client, he wants to pee on you,' the manager said. 1
swear if someone ever got hold of transcripts of my phone calls, they'd probably think I was a ‐ oh wait, I am.
87
'He wants to what?' I asked, knowing very well what she said.
'Pee. On you. Don't worry, darling, not in your clothes. You will be in a bath.' 'A bath of what? Urine?' 'No, just a normal bath.'
I sighed weakly. 'You know I don't do degradation.' Not at work, at any rate. I know it sounds odd, but even when W was treating me worst, I knew it was because he cared. I'd be reluctant to let a stranger do anything similar.
'Oh, no, not like that at all, darling,' she said. 'He doesn't want you to be degraded. He wants to pee on a girl who enjoys it.'
Eventually I agreed, but only with a significant mark‐up in the usual fee. The client was rather nice and seemed exceedingly shy.
We talked for a little while and had a drink ‐spirits for me and a large beer for him. The better to fill the bladder with, I suppose.
When it came time to do the deed I stripped him from the waist down, got all my kit off and knelt in an empty bathtub.
He looked at me, looked at the wall above me and sighed.
Nothing happened for a couple of minutes. I was starting to get cold. 'Is everything okay?' I asked.
'It's not going to happen. I'm too turned on,' he said. He looked down again. 'If I look at you, I'll get hard. If I look away, I'll think of what's going to happen, and get hard.'
'Try thinking of something that doesn't turn you on.'
'Such as?'
'Your mother shopping for underwear for you. With you in tow.
Aged thirty‐five.' He started to laugh. I felt the first trickle hit my neck, roll down my breasts.
Afterwards I showered while he watched me. He started to make vague shy‐guy noises as I dried my hair and dressed. 'Are you okay?' I asked.
88
'I think I have some more,' he said, blushing, gesturing towards his knob. 'You don't have to say yes, but I don't suppose I could put it in a glass and—'
'Er, no, thank you,' I said. 'Health and safety and all that.'
'Some people drink it
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