Bethany’s Diary — 02 First client
I guess by later standards the initiation into my new profession was somewhat unremarkable, but documented here primarily because it was my first experience as an escort and because being paid to sleep with someone was so alien to me.
The management don’t usually allow girls to work in their home town as it can cause no end of problems should they bump into someone they know, but as I was studying at the university and technically I wasn’t native to York, they made an exception in my case. I made my way to the day room where Kelly was eagerly waiting for me. Kelly was the most experienced of the escorts and although she still worked with clients on occasion, most of her time was taken up with the management of the other girls; I suppose you would call her my line manager as she would be responsible for my training and for allocating work to me.
“Great you’re here.” Kelly smiled, taking my hand and closing the door. “I have the perfect start for you; a regular arrived this morning. His needs are rather simple and unchanging.” This was the first time I’d met Kelly, but immediately I knew that she was well educated. She spoke of sex in a very business-like manner and I smiled nervously in response. “He loves a formal dinner and sex afterwards.” I’d been told that the hotel maintained a substantial wardrobe for its girls and I looked down at my casual jeans and loose white blouse and wondered how my attire would compare to his expectations for a formal dinner.
“You look great as you are.” Kelly assured me, reading my thoughts. “Go to room 127. He’s called Dr James Matthews, a physician from London up here for a medical conference I believe. He’s gone for a walk around town, but he has a table booked for dinner and so won’t be long. He’s expecting a guest and you can wait in his room.” She smiled reassuringly. “He’s booked you for 24 hours, so, I don’t expect to see you again until this time tomorrow. If all goes well he will want to fuck you this evening. His tastes are rather vanilla, but you have my number on speed dial just in case.”
I left the room on shaking legs. I was no prude, but when sex in real life was disappointing that was an end to it. Here I was required to be exceptional and that expectation terrified me. Whilst in my limited experience I had personally found sex physically unsatisfying, I had learned that I could quickly bring myself to orgasm if, when I touched myself afterwards, I immersed myself in the fantasies that so frequently crept into my thoughts. And rightly or wrongly I had decided that in this career I would feed the fantasies of those I partnered to bring them more than sex. It was a challenge and I know I should have checked with Kelly first, but I didn’t think she’d approve.
There were four girls working at the hotel at any one time, twelve of us in all and my shift was Friday evening through to Sunday lunch to allow me uninterrupted study at University through the week, though I had also agreed to come to work in exceptional circumstances if needed. Rather than go to Dr Matthews room as Kelly had suggested I had an idea and had returned to reception asking the girl on duty to tell me when my client returned; I had no idea what he looked like and wanted to be sure I selected the right man. The staff at the hotel knew all of the working girls and we were treated more like guests than employees and even though it was my first day, the young girl behind the counter blushed and nodded her understanding.
But rather than simply lurking I spoke to the doorman, a tall burly looking man who looked as though he may have spent more than a little time in the armed services. I wanted my first encounter with Dr Matthews to be memorable and put him in a position of authority, but I needed a little help. “Hi Sam.” I said coming up behind him.
“Can I help you miss?”
“Beth.” I corrected him. “I’m new here.”
“Yes Miss Beth.” It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than Miss.
“Would you do me a favour.” I continued, uncertainly. “I want to appear hurt.”
“Miss?”
I ignored his return to formality. “A limp or something that a doctor would notice but that won’t leave a mark; I have to work again tomorrow.”
“A sprained ankle?” he grunted, catching on. “Sore ribs are always good to give a little pain and don’t show the next day if you know what you’re doing.”
“Yes good — both of those.” I smiled.
“A good limp is all you need for the sprain. Walk on your toes on one leg and normally on the other.”
“What about the ribs?”
He looked me up and down, perhaps wondering whether I had what it takes. “You sure Miss?”
“It’s Beth, and yes, I’m sure.” I replied confidently.
Sam looked around, as if looking for someone to give him permission, but eventually he came to his own decision. “In here Miss.” He took me into a tiny windowless office adjacent to the door. “Put your hands on your head and face this way.” He placed his hands on my hips to position me, turning me away fractionally. bahis siteleri I was in no doubt that it would be painful, but I did as instructed. He placed his fist against my ribs and looked into my eyes, perhaps seeing my resolve. “Last chance Miss.”
“It’s Beth.” I replied keeping my hands raised.
“Yes Beth. Take a deep breath.”
As soon as my lungs were full a hammer blow knocked the air from them and I fell to my knees.
“Oh god are you OK?” Sam helped me up and I smiled reassuring him, returning my hands to my head to so that he could continue. Three more hard punches and Sam deemed that this would be sufficient for a medical man to notice. I thanked him and practiced my limping. As an after-thought I drew Sam deeper into my plot. “Would you do one last thing for me?”
I remained hidden in the claustrophobic office with the door open a crack so that I had a clear view of the reception desk and I waited, though not for long. After about 20 minutes a man entered the hotel and asked for his key. The receptionist looked my way. “Did you enjoy your stroll around the city Dr Matthews?” She asked politely as I slipped out unseen and Sam slammed the hotel’s front door to attract everyone’s attention. On turning the Doctor saw me limping very convincingly towards reception with my arm draped over the doorman’s shoulder while he supported my waist with a sturdy arm.
The receptionist broke off her conversation with my client to come to my aid, pulling out a chair for me to sit on. Sam had wisely suggested I roll on the floor to mess up my shirt a little and complete my dishevelled look and I flopped onto the seat with a groan.
“It was those damn kids on skateboards again.” Sam spat. “knocked her right off her feet. “Sit here miss while I call the police.”
“No.” I replied softly. “please don’t. I’m sure they didn’t mean it and besides, they long gone by now.”
The doorman stood over me tall and authoritative while the receptionist fussed around and brought a glass of water. “God, you’re shaking.” She observed.
“It’s probably shock.” Dr Matthews offered stepping closer. Is there an office we can use?”
“This is Dr Matthews.” The young receptionist reassured me. “One of our guests.” And I allowed the middle aged and rather ordinary looking doctor to help me to my feet, crying out when I put my weight on my right leg. He caught me and while Sam returned to his duties, the doctor helped me into a room behind the counter and knelt to remove my shoe. I winced and pulled away instinctively and he waited for a moment before taking my injured foot gently in hands that had surely never known hard graft. His touch was soothing as he tested my movement. “Just a sprain.” He reassured me with a smile and he turned to the receptionist. Could you bring me some ice, perhaps in a plastic bag?” The girl hurried out and returned a short time later. The doctor applied the ice pack and held it as he looked up. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” He asked.
I shook my head, but instinctively my hand moved to my side.
“Let me see.” The doctor smiled.
Reluctantly I unbuttoned my soiled blouse, waiting for the receptionist to return to her desk before pulling it aside. I wore a lace bra beneath, through which my proud nipples were clearly visible and the doctor professionally ignored my embarrassment and avoided staring, instead closely inspecting my ribs. “It looks painful, but there’s no real damage.”
“One of the boys fell.” I offered in explanation buttoning up my shirt. “His skateboard struck me.”
“Where are you staying?” He asked.
“With my sister. It’s not far, I can walk.”
“Not on that foot.” He corrected me. “Why don’t you call her and have her pick you up or we can send for a taxi.”
I checked the clock on the wall above the door; it was a little after 6pm. “She doesn’t finish her shift until eight and I don’t have a key.” I replied. If it’s alright I’ll wait in the lobby until I feel well enough to walk; alternatively I can call her when she finishes work.
“I have a better idea.” He said. “I was just about to have dinner. Why don’t you join me?”
“I couldn’t. No, really.”
“Of course you can.” He argued, raising his hand to halt further protests. “I insist. And at 8 O’clock, you can call your sister to come and collect you.”
“I…well…”
“Then it’s settled. “My table isn’t ready until 7pm. Why don’t we have a brandy at the bar to settle your nerves?”
I smiled weakly and nodded.
Dr Matthews helped me to my feet and supported me just as Sam had with a firm arm about my waist guiding me to the bar a short distance away. He perched me on a stool with strength that belied his age and stature.
“Thank you doctor.” I said, adjusting myself and resting my injured foot on the brass bar rail.
“Call me James.” He said warmly and ordered two large brandies from the barman.
“Thank you James.” I breathed.
We talked as we drank and James reordered and although he told me so much about his professional life, canlı bahis siteleri I learned nothing of his private affairs, though the faint indentation on his finger told me that he had recently removed his wedding ring. In turn, I gave him a story to suit what I imagined he wanted and told him nothing of my work.
We sat opposite each other at a small table in a quiet corner of the dining room. James was open and friendly and we chatted as we waited for our food to arrive, but behind his smiles and soft words I sensed a darker intent.
“You’re not married Beth?”He asked.
I shook my head and smiled sadly. “You?”
“A boyfriend?” He tried completely ignoring my question.
“Darren likes to think so.” I replied enigmatically. “But, you’ve not answered my question.”
He smiled. “Work keeps be busy without leaving much time for a private life.”
Again he’d dodged the question and I decided not to press him. But there was no need to
concern myself as he quickly picked up on the thread I’d left hanging. “You are having problems with your relationship?”
“No, ‘I replied too quickly. “We’ve only had a couple of dates and I’m not ready to commit just yet. Ah! Dinner’s arrived.” The presence of the waiter cut the conversation short, but Dr Matthews continued his interrogation even before I’d raised fork to mouth.
“You’re keeping your options open then and perhaps still enjoying your youth.”
“I’m Sorry.” I said in wide eyed innocence, pretending not to understand.
He explained in simpler terms. “It is perhaps a casual arrangement that you hope might develop into something deeper.”
I smiled and nodded. I felt myself blushing and took pride in that l had so completely immersed myself in the character I was portraying.
“Forgive me if I appear over familiar and please don’t feel obliged to answer if you’re not comfortable with me.” He smiled reassuringly. “But I’d like you to be honest or not answer at all.”
His choice of words and reassuring tone suggested a professional interest rather than a personal one, though of course, I knew the contrary to be true.
“Does Darren satisfy you sexually?”
I felt the embarrassment already glowing in my cheeks intensify and burn still brighter.
“It’s alright my dear, I can see that I’ve shocked you.” Dr Matthews reached across the table to rest his hand on mine.
But in offering me an escape he effectively blocked me from taking it.
“sometimes.” I replied, but I looked away nervously; something he picked up on immediately.
“I asked you to be truthful Beth.” He said like a disappointed parent. “Do you achieve orgasm during intercourse?”
“I’m never satisfied during sex.” I replied weakly, adding. “None of my boyfriends ever made me cum.”
“I feared as much.” He continued. “and how does that make you feel?”
“angry, ashamed.” I answered on my breath.
“ashamed? Why would you feel ashamed Beth? Does Darren make you feel responsible?”
I nodded without looking up.
“You know that you’re not responsible for that my dear.” He patted the back of my hand reassuringly. But when I didn’t look up he continued. “That is not why you’re ashamed.” He concluded, leaving a space for me to fill.
“afterwards.” I began, feeling moisture gathering in my eyes. “I touch myself.”
Dr Matthews began to laugh and I opened my mouth to protest at his mocking. But he held up a hand to silence me. “It’s perfectly normal Beth for men and women to masturbate.”
I looked nervously around, fearing that those on neighbouring tables may be listening but they were all engrossed in the excellent food and their own conversations.
“We all do it Beth. There’s absolutely no need to be ashamed.”
I looked up and managed a weak smile. “Darren says that it’s disrespectful to him.”
“The only disrespect is that he takes his pleasure without reciprocating.”
I pretended not to understand and simply stared back, letting him believe that he was controlling the conversation.
“Sex is about mutual pleasure.” He sat smugly back in his chair, like a chess player making his winning move. “If for example I were to take a beautiful woman like you to bed, I’d make sure that she was fully satisfied, putting her pleasure before mine.”
He could clearly see that he had captivated me. “How’s the chicken?” he asked, changing topic to throw me off balance.
“Er, excellent.” I replied raising my fork.
As we ate Dr Matthews talked about his work in Bristol and London and how he came to York twice a year for a medical conference at the university. “Oh I’d love to attend university” I replied, not letting on that that was indeed my day job. “But I’m not clever enough.”
“Oh? What would you study?”
“Art I think; I love to paint.”
I let Dr Matthews lead the conversation as he probed me on my favourte painters, adroitly drawing the theme back to sex. “Have you tried life drawing?” He asked.
I shook my head. “But I often copy portraits and nudes canlı bahis from books or magazines.”
“You would make a perfect model.” He added. “You have a magnificent figure.”
Again I felt myself blushing and Dr Matthews enjoyed and added to my apparent discomfort. “Indeed.” He said. “I would love to see you pose naked.”
“You’re teasing me Dr Matthews.”
“Not at all. And I told you, please call me James.” he gave me a moment to stew. “Though if I were honest… No I’d better not say more.”
“Please, go on.” I said eagerly, forgiving his clumsy dialogue and interested in how he would move me from here to his bed.
“If I were an artist I would have you pose while I simply stared, knowing that no matter how talented I may be, I could never do Justice to your beauty.”
“Now I know you’re teasing.” It was interesting and enjoyable listening and engaging with James; no one had ever tried to seduce me in this way, in the way they would in those old movies I loved to watch.
“I would cast aside my brushes,” he continued, “and carry you to our bed and I would make love to you night and day.”
I heard myself gasp. “If only you were an artist!” I exclaimed and the disappointment in my voice told him of my disillusionment in my other relationships.
“And if I were..?” he volleyed the conversation back and I could see what he needed from me.
I was playing a scene in a movie and my role was that of a beautiful and sexually innocent peasant girl being pursued by the lord of the manor. Everyone but the girl knew how the scene would end, but without knowing how we would arrive there. And so I played the scene as he wished it played.
“I don’t know.” I replied, my voice barely a whisper.
He smiled and ate the last of his salmon and I thought that if he was as considerate as he would have me believe he would not have eaten fish. “Come to my room with me.” He said, placing his cutlery neatly upon his empty plate, standing and offering me his hand and for a moment I simply sat dumbstruck.
Nervously I reached out and James gently pulled me to my feet. I was so caught in the moment that I almost forgot to limp as he led me back to the foyer and I stood nervously waiting for the elevator. In his suite James continued his artist/model theme, pulling a plain wooden chair from beneath a desk into the centre of the room and sitting on the sofa facing it. He smiled and gestured towards the chair, as if I should know what next to do.
I apprehensively took off my shirt, unbuttoning it with agonising deliberation and laying it over the back of the chair. James smiled his encouragement, indicating that I continue. I removed my jeans, folding them neatly and laying them on the rug at his feet. James remained silent as I stood in my bra and panties, half covering myself with my arms. I reached behind my back with trembling hands and unhooked my bra, letting it fall to the floor and dropping my arms to my sides so that he could gaze upon me. James took his time letting his eyes wander over me before locking eyes with me and smiling to tell me to continue. Standing an arms length away from him I slipped my fingers into the waist band of my panties and drew them down over my hips and thighs to my knees and letting them fall. I stood for a moment before realising that he wanted me on the chair. I pulled the chair to me and, holding the backrest for support I climbed up to balance uncertainly on the wooden seat.
James was clearly pleased and motioned with a spinning finger that I should turn around for him. I gingerly and carefully pirouetted, favouring my uninjured foot and even managing to limp effectively as I turned. At last I returned to face him having offered James a view of me from every angle and I stood while he came close and allowed his hands to wander over my hips and stomach, the small of my back and buttocks. He brought his face close to my womanhood, inhaling deeply and brushing the tip of his nose over my neatly trimmed pubic hair.
“beautiful.” He muttered to himself, gently stroking my hips and thighs. He came closer and kissed my mound and instinctively I sighed.
Now, while men have given me oral before, it invariably took the form of a rough tongue fucking that really gave me no pleasure and I stood unsteadily on my perch as James teased and tantalised me. He sensitively kissed and licked, barely touching me, and he enjoying how I quivered at his every caress. Had he continued I would surely have climaxed quickly, but instead he swept me up in his arms and carried me to the adjoining room, where he gently laid me on the bed.
James’ lips brushed over mine and he no doubt felt me trembling. Even now I had in mind the need to bring him pleasure at the expense of my own, but if he chose to make me cum who was I to argue. His mouth descended, but this time it was eager and without the consideration he had previously shown, sucking upon my breast, his teeth gnawing upon a tender nipple. I moaned and sobbed gently. But it was no act; it was never an act. The exquisite pain l endured was very real and I simply reacted, holding nothing back. For a moment he released me and I lay panting beneath his gaze. I felt like an offering, spread out beneath the doctor – no, I was an offering.