back to the bed, Tash was lying inside, waiting. I didn’t jump in but pulled back the cover and slid in slowly beside her.
We lay there, saying nothing for a couple of moments. I knew to take things carefully, so as not to frighten her off. I hitched myself up onto my elbow, giving her my full attention.
‘You’re fine, Tash?’
‘Yes. It’s getting used to this…’ Her thin voice trailed off.
I reached across with my free hand and began to stroke her belly. It was soft and smooth under the bedclothes. She lay still and let me.
‘You’ve got nothing to worry about. You just let me know if there’s anything you feel uncomfortable with, won’t you?’
She said nothing in reply. My hand widened its sweep up her body, and cradled one breast and then the other. I nibbled at her neck and her head stretched back into the pillow.
Is she going to just lie there?
She wasn’t. He own arm reached up to clench my shoulder, and she pulled herself up so that our lips met again. Her fingers ruffled my hair and felt their way tenderly over my scalp and down my neck. I shifted closer to her and we were now clasped in each other’s arms.
It was just a step away for my right leg to swing over both of hers, even as our embrace grew tighter. But with a practised manoeuvre, I held back for a matter of moments to sort out the protection. So, it was her first time. A guy still had to show some respect round here.
After all this time, I’d got condom-manoeuvre down to a fine art, so a girl would barely notice any gap in the flow of action. Though it wasn’t as if Tash was going to, was it? That was one of the advantages of sleeping with a newbie—she had nothing to compare me with.
Not that I wouldn’t compare favourably with the best of them.
I slipped my hand around Tash’s hip bone to steady myself and guided myself between her legs. She winced with the pain of entrance and the new sensation, but I soothed her with the closeness of my breast against hers, and the gentle caresses of my hands.
‘Are you OK?’ I asked her.
‘Yes, I’m just a bit sore,’ she gasped.
And that was the other thing about sleeping with a virgin. It was likely to hurt to some degree. It was my job to introduce her to what it was like to make love. But I had to ensure I took her beyond the pain barrier far enough so she came back for more. Whether with me or her next boyfriend.
After all, there was a reason a woman called in an escort for her first time—it was because she wanted a decent experience. Not for her the ‘walk of shame’ after a tawdry night with a guy she’d picked up in a club just so she could get the moment over with. She wanted a good memory.
I knew full well that was my job. To give Tash an evening she wouldn’t forget in a hurry.
Tash needed tenderness and compassion. To physically feel the warm weight of a man as much as tick off her ‘To Do’ list. And since I knew that the first experience of sex often hurt, then it was all the more important that I compensated with my touch, making every other part of her body feel damn special.
No, it’s not just about the sex.
Our hands and our lips explored each other. Words weren’t needed but I gave them to her anyway. ‘You’ve got a beautiful body, Tash. You really have.’
Tash said nothing but she gave me a shy smile. I followed my words with action, tracing my kisses across her breasts and licking her belly. She rippled with pleasure. Her lips were on my shoulder and her hands played up and down my back as if she was searching out unexplored territory.
I looked up at her, and our lips met again. I could feel her budding confidence in her tongue’s playfulness with mine. My hands ran over her torso and her breasts once again, and then I eased myself away from her.
‘I trust that didn’t put you off,’ I declared deadpan, as I backed off the bed. Tash didn’t shift at all, though the bedcovers were half pulled away from her. She lay naked before me, looking utterly contented.
‘No. Not at all.’
Her voice was steady and stronger, any traces of her initial fear gone. ‘I could lie here like this all night,’ she mused.
I picked up my trousers from the floor and pulled them back on, along with my shirt, which I buttoned swiftly. When I turned back towards Tash on the bed, she surprised me by now standing close beside me, her own clothes back on.
‘That was lovely, Luke. Exactly what I needed.’ Tash rubbed my arm tenderly.
‘I’m glad I could be of help.’
I kissed her forehead.
She went over to the dressing table, picked up the envelope of money and came back and put it in my hand. Some girls paid upfront, others at the end of a session. It was a risk—that they might not have the money. But I’d yet to be stung that way. What I was aware of was that nervous clients such as Tash could be intimidated by me asking for payment before we’d even got started. It could be too blunt an approach—reminding them that our time together was a financial transaction, when what they needed was tenderness.
‘You were,’ she said. ‘Very much so.’
We returned downstairs and she called me my cab to the station. When it arrived, we kissed on the lips one last time. I stepped out of her house and into the midnight darkness. It had been a pleasure to help her out. She was gorgeous, for one thing. And whomever she had from now on, she’d never forget me for being her first.
Josephine
Mid-March
The elegant clock on the mantelpiece told me I’d already been here well over an hour—and we still hadn’t got beyond the talking stage.
I ignored the voice in my head telling me I was losing my touch. I knew exactly what I was doing with Josephine. I was letting her talk herself out until she felt comfortable enough to move to the next stage.
She was telling me about her family visits to India. It was funny, because when I’d first spoken to Josephine on the phone, I’d presumed by the lilt in her voice that she might be Welsh and had been surprised when a handsome, fifty-something Asian lady had opened the door to me. She lived in a quiet street in leafy Twickenham.
As I settled into the comfy sofa, I noted the array of Indian carvings among the immaculately arranged antiques. A pair of knee-high elephants guarded the marble fireplace.
I looked across at Josephine. She was sitting far back in a striped armchair that matched the sofa, nervously holding onto her teacup and saucer. If she gripped it any tighter, I was sure the thing would shatter between her fingertips. I smiled with my eyes to reassure her.
‘It’s not often I come out this far.’
‘I’m a solicitor at a local practice,’ she disclosed, which surprised me, since she spoke in a quiet voice that didn’t especially fill me with confidence—and suggested that she still had a way to go before she felt totally relaxed in my company.
‘I came to the area not long after I qualified. I can remember when the houses round here were divided into bedsits. I’ve got this place—’ she looked up to the ceiling to indicate the entire house—‘all to myself.’
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