Lauren arrived back at her hotel, the Hotel Stein, one of Frankfurt’s finest at around 9pm that Saturday night. Throughout the day she’d been shepherded by two local bodyguards, Erich and Hanse, since Carla and Frank were not allowed to carry weapons in Germany. She was glad finally to be alone. The hotel had plenty of security and she felt quite safe. Every visitor and guest had to pass through x-ray checks and there was discreet muscle everywhere. She collected her key from reception and made her way to her room. The floor guard wished her a pleasant evening as she passed on her way to her suite. Inside she closed the door, threw the safety lock and leant back against the door. God, how the constant fear since the attempt on her life drained her; that and the demands of her job as CEO of the pharmaceutical company; constant meetings, decisions, pressures. ‘Fuck it,’ she said out loud, ‘fuck them all. Life goes on.’ She pushed herself off the door and wandered through to her bedroom, dropping her briefcase and handbag as she passed through her sitting room. She went into the bathroom and started to run a hot bath with oil, then returned to the bedroom and stripped off her business suit. She unclipped her bra and let her large, firm breasts free. She sat on the bed, kicked off her shoes, unclipped her stockings and rolled them down. Standing, she pushed her silk panties down and stood up straight to look at herself in one of the long mirrors. She cupped her breasts and liked what she saw. ‘Not bad for fifty.’ Her fingers ran through her triangle of light blonde fur and she decided it was time to trim again. In the sitting room there was a large, complimentary bar. It damn well should be complimentary, she thought. The room cost eight hundred euros per night. Naked, she walked back into the sitting room and poured herself a large glass of Sekt which she carried through to the bathroom. She sat on the toilet and pissed, sipping her wine, then got into the bath and lay back to soak. She was glad she had not sacked Jen after the shooting in London. It had ben close but she had ben convinced by, among others, Carla that Jen was loyal. Okay, so Carla had a vested interest. She was probably fucking Jen as Lauren reclined in the hot, bubbly bath and at the thought of the two women making love her finger, with a mind of its own, crept to her pussy and stroked. She considered paying for an escort but shrugged the idea away. Erich, the senior guard, would have one of his hissy fits if he found out. Her finger found its way deep inside and she put the wine down to free her other hand to amuse her nipples. The image of Carla and Jen wouldn’t go away. She’d fucked them both and remembered Carla’s wicked tongue and Jenny’s delicious cunt. The thought of them together, that tongue and that cunt, tipped her over the edge into a muted orgasm. Stepping out of the tub she picked up a large, fluffy towel and wrapped it around her waist. A second was there of course and she used it to dry her upper body. She went back to the bar to refill her Escort Çukurambar glass then back to the bedroom. Having selected a pair of dark blue silk pyjamas she changed her mind. She hated the silence of the suite and craved some normality. She took a long, black, silk shift dress from the wardrobe and slid it on, naked beneath. The dress had spaghetti straps and a low neckline and needed three-inch heels to stop it touching the floor. She retrieved her bag and key and went to the bar. * Ava was class; well, she had been born to class and money but a father who liked women, booze and gambling too much and work too little had disposed of the family’s wealth before she had finished school. Her mother had taken her own life. Ava had had no option but to seek work herself and she quickly discovered that German businesses expected applicants for even the lowest paid work to have some qualifications. She had none. People like her didn’t need them. Except by the time the fortune had been dissipated between bars, casinos and whores she did but had no obvious means of acquiring them. Consequently she had fallen back on her only real qualifications, her looks. At the age of twenty eight, Ava had been a high-class whore for five years. Uneducated she might have been but she had wisdom. She was also a lesbian and she’d decided that she’d make her target market the rich businesswomen who frequented the better hotels in Frankfurt. Men were too dangerous, too likely to be diseased and in any case they did not appeal. She might as well enjoy her work. Ava eschewed the services of an agency. Why share her earnings? She was beholden to nobody and had the wit to make a good living with regular clients and occasionals. That very afternoon she had spent in and around bed with a Grafin from Bavaria who was an infrequent but regular visitor to Frankfurt. She had been demanding and selfish as ever, throwing Ava out when she’d cum; out with a purse full of notes, so what did Ava care? * Lauren walked into the bar clutching her small bag and took a seat from which she could view the entire bar. A piano played quietly in a far corner. The bar was a little busy and people sat alone and in groups and she examined them all in the low light. Two businessmen in suits were arguing quietly. A group of three men eyed her hungrily as she passed but sensed her indifference and reverted to their loud conversation about football. A couple, probably not married, were nuzzling each other between sips of their drinks and Lauren reckoned they’d be upstairs and fucking each other senseless within ten minutes. Her eye fell on the woman at the bar just as a waiter approached her for her order. She ordered a bottle of Sekt. I’ve started so I’ll finish she thought. A free Sunday on the morrow would be followed by a hectic Monday so she could get as drunk as she wanted to. It helped. The waiter oozed away and her eyes returned to the woman at the bar. Her long, blonde hair almost reached her arse. Her dress was a mix of blues demetevler escort and golds, expensive and slightly, discreetly revealing a hint of thigh above a well shaped leg. Her tits were obscured from Lauren’s view by her arm but she sensed they’d be good. The face, in profile, revealed a neat mouth and eyes that seemed to smile. The face turned and the eyes focused on Lauren and then they really did smile, albeit briefly, before turning away again. The waiter returned carrying the tray laden with bottle, ice bucket and glass. He went through the palaver of placing everything, opening the bottle and pouring a sample for her to taste. Irritated by the inevitable performance she waved him to just pour and piss off although she didn’t say it out loud. As he turned to leave, the blonde at the bar smiled again and Lauren stopped him and asked him to enquire if the single lady at the bar would care to join her. Lauren’s instincts about other women were almost faultless. One doesn’t appear too eager, she told herself and kept her eyes anywhere but on the waiter as he approached the woman and quietly related her invitation. In fact she watched the whole thing intently but nobody could have known. Perhaps she’d learned that from Carla, her watchful bodyguard. The woman turned to look at her, smiling and stood up from her stool, picking up a medium sized handbag from its hook and now Lauren allowed herself to watch as she walked across the bar towards her. She’d been right about the tits. They were full and firm and unfettered beneath the fabric of the dress which, she noticed, had a slim, gold chain belt. He hips were proportionate and she was very, very attractive in a sophisticated way; well made up with glossy blonde hair that was full bodied. The smile didn’t leave the woman’s lips or eyes. Fuck, she’s a stunner. ‘This is most kind. I am Ava.’ She offered her hand which Lauren took and shook. ‘I’m Lauren. I thought two women alone in a bar like this might be less likely to receive unwelcome attention if they sat and talked. I hope my invitation was not unwelcome?’ ‘Not at all, I am grateful.’ Ava sat, crossing her lovely legs and giving Lauren a fine view of them but, she noticed, not in too revealing a way. Her breasts moved invitingly as she sat. They talked briefly until the waiter returned with a second glass and went through the ritual pouring again. When he’d finally left them, solicitously asking if he could be of further assistance, Lauren said, ‘Do they learn to be so irritating at waiter school?’ ‘Almost certainly.’ Ava’s laugh was deep and mellow. Lauren hated tinkling laughter. The German woman’s accented English suggested a good school and a good background and so did her demeanour; neither pushy not too reserved but very confident. She made conversation easily and Lauren, whose antennae were not dulled by the wine, considered the possibilities. Certainly this woman was a lesbian, she could smell it. The question was whether she was a professional or an amateur. That dikmen escort bayan question was answered on the second glass. When Lauren asked what she did for a living the reply was unequivocal. ‘Please do not be shocked, but I am a whore, Lauren.’ ‘Then I fear I have interrupted your work.’ She waved her hand vaguely at the other guests. ‘I think not. I have a rather niche clientele and the other guests would not fit the profile.’ Ava smiled innocently as she spoke. Lauren nodded her understanding. “Then perhaps we might reach an accommodation?’ Ava raised a questioning eyebrow at the unfamiliar language. ‘Do I fit the profile?’ Lauren explained. ‘Quite perfectly, I would say.’ ‘Do we need to agree terms?’ ‘Oh, please. Such matters are too sordid. I am sure you are a lady who understands the value of things.’ ‘Then please explain how we proceed from here? Whilst I do, as you say, understand the value of things I do not habitually engage with other women in this way and I don’t wish to cause you any difficulty in this fine hotel.’ ‘I have an arrangement, you might call it, with the hotel’s owner, Herr Stein. He is a family friend.’ That was true. ‘There will be no embarrassment. All that is necessary is that you tell me your room number and, when you are ready, you say goodnight to me and return to your room. I will then join you in about fifteen minutes if that is your wish. ‘Room 716 and make it twenty minutes, please.’ Ava nodded. They finished the bottle, business complete and chatted like old friends about nothing. Lauren stood, shook Ava’s hand and wished her goodnight. As she walked to the lift she wondered if this was safe, wise. ‘Fuck it.’ * ‘Hi, Carla,’ said Ernie in her slightly sleazy bar. Lauren was wrong about me and Jen. We were not enjoying each other at the time she was having her bath. Jen had taken Lauren’s absence as an opportunity to visit her father, the retired admiral in Hampshire. She knew my needs and said, as she was leaving, ‘Make sure there’s some left for me when I get back.’ I do like an understanding lover. Don’t misunderstand me; we were serious but not necessarily exclusive. The Polish barmaid, Wajena, was still working for Ernie and tonight she looked absolutely stunning. Ernie, by contrast and unsurprisingly, looked worn out. ‘She’ll kill me, that kid. She’s half my age and bloody insatiable.’ ‘I thought that was what you wanted.’ ‘Be careful what you wish for,’ but her lascivious grin told a different story. So did her hand sliding up Wajena’s skirt. ‘Am I to assume your current bit of fluff is away?’ ‘She is. And she suggested I might like to get some “me time” in.’ ‘And so, here you are, chez Ernestine.’ Ernie grinned. ‘Let’s see what we can find for you.’ She patted Wajena’s arse. ‘Get the lady a real gin, honey, not the usual stuff. Don’t you go away now Carla.’ She shuffled off, grinning from ear to ear. I’ve always liked Ernie and her bar. It is unpretentious, strictly for lesbians and whilst some of her customers may not always look respectable, she won’t have any nonsense. Now, I can look after myself. I’ve been well trained and I keep fit. In my job you have to. But not everyone knows how to disarm a knife wielding loony or a killer with a gun and those who don’t, do not want to have that sort of trouble when they go out for a quiet drink or to get laid. I’d come out to get laid.