an orgasm rushed through her legs into her chest and across her body, Karen opened her eyes and looked straight into the face of Freya, who dragged her away from Mark and began to nibble at her sensitive chest, making her cry out in long suppressed ecstasy.
The taxi ride home passed in a blur. Karen’s head spun. How was she ever going to write about that without bearing her own soul on the page? She could still feel Mark’s soft fingers against her flesh, Freya’s biting teeth against her nipples, and the wondrous flow of the climax that had shaken her long frigid body.
As the cab pulled up outside her home, Karen noticed that someone was waiting on her door step. It was Charles.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘You promised to call when it was over, it’s 2am. I wanted to make sure you were safe.’
Karen looked carefully at her boss. ‘I’m fine thanks. It was very interesting.’
‘Really?’ Charles eyes twinkled as he watched her nipples poke through her cashmere sweater. ‘How was Mark?’
‘He was…Oh God, you know him don’t you?’ Karen coloured as the penny dropped. He had set her up for more than the report.
Charles had the decency to look slightly abashed. ‘I hoped it would help you.’ He moved a little closer to her. ‘Would you like to share your experiences with me? I could help you work out what you’re going to write.’
Karen smiled despite her indignation at being tricked. Her thighs aching with renewed need. ‘I think that would be a good idea Charles. Come inside, I’ll tell you all about it.’
Chapter Eleven
When the stories begin to run dry, or when I simply can’t think of an original way of saying ‘he stuck his dick up her pussy’, I call on Kit. That isn’t her real name of course, but she tells me it’ll serve her purpose for now.
As fake blonde Americans go, Kit has more savvy than the average contender, yet I still keep expecting to read about her untimely death in the paper. This girl likes to sail so close to the sun that she’d give Icarus nightmares.
We met at a strip club where I was doing some research. Kit had been sat, perfectly turned out, at the bar talking to the owner. Her body language screamed professional. She was obviously working but I was intrigued about her life and asked if I could buy her a drink. I was honest with her, always the best course of action when dealing with escorts, and explained what sort of stories I collected and what sort of research material I was after.
After requesting an over-priced Vodka, Kit said, ‘Tonight’s kinda slow. You wanna know how I started?’
Tequila
She couldn’t actually remember how she’d got there. Heat reflected off her neck as she lifted her heavy head from the damp street. It couldn’t be morning already.
Her throat burned. Tequila. What a fucking stupid drink. Her tongue was stuck to her mouth; hair straggled across her face. She looked like a drugged up hooker. All she needed now was a cop car to turn up and life would be complete.
Rising slowly on her shaky legs, she brushed her grit covered palms across her ripped white skirt. Grasping the nearest wall Kit held her breath, swallowing down the bile that was building in her throat.
The world swam for a while before she took in the small row of boarded up or battered shops across the street. Kit spat into the gutter to try and escape the bad taste in her mouth. ‘Jackshit Town’, Kit groaned as her headache seeped through her whole body. Surely it had all been a bad dream? She rolled up her sleeves. Not a dream then. The thick bruises that adorned each wrist had already turned purple, and, judging by their yellow edges, would be multicoloured before too long.
‘Perhaps you’ll pay your debts from now on.’ The voice growled rather than spoke. He held out his hand. Kit shuddered and turned away.
‘Don’t be a fool girl. You are in no fit state to go anywhere.’ He towered over her, his own clothes as filthy as hers. ‘I’ll hold
The taxi ride home passed in a blur. Karen’s head spun. How was she ever going to write about that without bearing her own soul on the page? She could still feel Mark’s soft fingers against her flesh, Freya’s biting teeth against her nipples, and the wondrous flow of the climax that had shaken her long frigid body.
As the cab pulled up outside her home, Karen noticed that someone was waiting on her door step. It was Charles.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘You promised to call when it was over, it’s 2am. I wanted to make sure you were safe.’
Karen looked carefully at her boss. ‘I’m fine thanks. It was very interesting.’
‘Really?’ Charles eyes twinkled as he watched her nipples poke through her cashmere sweater. ‘How was Mark?’
‘He was…Oh God, you know him don’t you?’ Karen coloured as the penny dropped. He had set her up for more than the report.
Charles had the decency to look slightly abashed. ‘I hoped it would help you.’ He moved a little closer to her. ‘Would you like to share your experiences with me? I could help you work out what you’re going to write.’
Karen smiled despite her indignation at being tricked. Her thighs aching with renewed need. ‘I think that would be a good idea Charles. Come inside, I’ll tell you all about it.’
Chapter Eleven
When the stories begin to run dry, or when I simply can’t think of an original way of saying ‘he stuck his dick up her pussy’, I call on Kit. That isn’t her real name of course, but she tells me it’ll serve her purpose for now.
As fake blonde Americans go, Kit has more savvy than the average contender, yet I still keep expecting to read about her untimely death in the paper. This girl likes to sail so close to the sun that she’d give Icarus nightmares.
We met at a strip club where I was doing some research. Kit had been sat, perfectly turned out, at the bar talking to the owner. Her body language screamed professional. She was obviously working but I was intrigued about her life and asked if I could buy her a drink. I was honest with her, always the best course of action when dealing with escorts, and explained what sort of stories I collected and what sort of research material I was after.
After requesting an over-priced Vodka, Kit said, ‘Tonight’s kinda slow. You wanna know how I started?’
Tequila
She couldn’t actually remember how she’d got there. Heat reflected off her neck as she lifted her heavy head from the damp street. It couldn’t be morning already.
Her throat burned. Tequila. What a fucking stupid drink. Her tongue was stuck to her mouth; hair straggled across her face. She looked like a drugged up hooker. All she needed now was a cop car to turn up and life would be complete.
Rising slowly on her shaky legs, she brushed her grit covered palms across her ripped white skirt. Grasping the nearest wall Kit held her breath, swallowing down the bile that was building in her throat.
The world swam for a while before she took in the small row of boarded up or battered shops across the street. Kit spat into the gutter to try and escape the bad taste in her mouth. ‘Jackshit Town’, Kit groaned as her headache seeped through her whole body. Surely it had all been a bad dream? She rolled up her sleeves. Not a dream then. The thick bruises that adorned each wrist had already turned purple, and, judging by their yellow edges, would be multicoloured before too long.
‘Perhaps you’ll pay your debts from now on.’ The voice growled rather than spoke. He held out his hand. Kit shuddered and turned away.
‘Don’t be a fool girl. You are in no fit state to go anywhere.’ He towered over her, his own clothes as filthy as hers. ‘I’ll hold
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