A Womens World Cup Story 2015

Arabella Compton wiped her mouth as she stood up.

The middle-aged man from Toronto remained standing in front of her in his hotel room with his still- erect penis jutting out from under his sagging belly. The 23 year old Englishwoman had just performed an act of fellatio on him for $50 Canadian.

"Wow!" the man exclaimed when he finally opened his eyes and resumed normal breathing. "You're really quite good!" He stood, rather absurdly she thought, with his garish red shorts down around his ankles and his white T-shirt with the Canadian maple leaf covering his bulk.

She was in Edmonton, Alberta on business. While there, she thought she'd engage in her "second job:" prostitution.

No one who knew her could have conceived of such a thing. Outward appearance said that Arabella was a successful and rising star in her legitimate job. Even Laura, her closest friend among her workmates, didn't know about her fucking and sucking for money.

Arabella didn't strictly need to perform sexual services for money. Her family was quite well off. Indeed, the fact that she was related to one of the oldest families in England would have seemed to have militated against her "sideline entrepreneurship." She thought, sardonically, that if her family ever discovered her secret, they would have been more dismayed by the "tradesman-like" aspect of her selling herself than upset about any of the moral issues involved!

"Thanks," she said to the man as she hoisted her shoulder bag. She left the hotel room and walked quickly to the elevator. She needed to be back at her hotel in 35 minutes. Her group would be leaving for the stadium where she had other more socially acceptable duties to fulfil. Arabella was in Canada for the women's football World Cup (or soccer as it was called in North America, to avoid confusion with the almost blood sports of American and Canadian football.)

At first glance, the young woman wouldn't seem to be the kind to do this as she wasn't beautiful. Her body was fit, however, and she had a kind of fresh, plain, English face with stereotypically rosy cheeks. Her long blonde hair was full and well kept. Her breasts, though, medium in size, were prominent, firm and in a bygone era would have been described as "torpedo tits."

No, "Phillipa," (the name by which she went both at home in London and here in Canada) wasn't as alluring physically in a way that might be expected of a part-time prostitute. It was the fact of her freshness and her "presentation against type" that explained the demand that she satisfied. For her clients, it was fulfilling the fantasy of fucking an obviously upper class English girl. In a society as highly stratified as that of the United Kingdom, this fetish appealed to significant numbers of working and lower middle class men.

On the way out of the hotel, she noticed the crowds of football fans; each national group replete in national colors. She noted with approval the many men and women, boys and girls with white faces upon which the crimson cross of St. George was applied.

While in Canada for the month, she had elected to try plying her other trade on this other continent knowing that wherever there was large gatherings of people, there would be a market for sexual services. Sporting and political gatherings especially presented opportunities for whoring, the attendance and organizing dominated as they were by men.

Settling back into her seat and looking out the window, she drank from her water bottle, attempting to get the residual taste out of her mouth. Though it had its unpleasant side, she took pride in the fact that she always swallowed, reflecting that it made her feel powerful. As the bus got off the downtown freeway exit onto Boyle Street, Arabella thought about how she had started this secret life. At the age of eighteen, one of her uncle's business associates paid her £20 to take off her top and play with her breasts. The incident occurred on a visit to his estate for a holiday gathering. He had flattered her with the attention of an older, handsome, and successful man. He had also given her champagne to drink, which he hoped would make her more amenable to his request. Shortly thereafter, he intercepted her coming out of an upstairs lavatory and had drawn her into an adjacent bedroom and closed the door behind them.

He stepped close to her and ran his fingers through her hair, murmuring how lovely she was. She wasn't fooled by this false flattery; she knew she was plain but she also knew, wisely, how much her youth counted at this stage in her relationships with males. He moved to kiss her, in the course of which she had brazenly placed his right hand on her left breast. It was then that he offered her money to expose herself. She agreed and as she did so, he unzipped his trousers and satisfied himself into a handkerchief. Arabella, of course, didn't need the money but she took it anyway because it made her feel assertive and in control, something she very much longed to be. Though loving, she found her family atmosphere stifling in its conventionality and secretly rejected it.

Smiling to herself, she thought, too, about the football fan from Germany who had "rented" her the day before. She was standing in the lobby of her hotel after a group meeting in one of the ballrooms when he approached her. He was chubby and absurdly dressed in the way of German tourists with socks on his sandaled feet and Bermuda shorts with suspenders. The German flag painted on his face and the green, too-small Tyrolean cap perched upon his head added to the comic appearance.

"Hallo, miss," he said, taking her for a local prostitute as she had intended. "Are you vaiting for somevone?"

She coolly appraised him and, after establishing his intent, went with him to his room. There, after paying her €100, she performed an overture of fellatio before bending over the writing desk to be taken lustily from behind. He didn't take very long, only about 5 minutes. (Not a bad return on her investment of time, she noted wryly!) Sweating profusely, he thanked her. Amused by this encounter, Arabella pulled up her underwear and her pants and saying farewell in her best North American accent, returned to her room rather pleased with herself.

The bus pulled into the hotel right on time. After disembarking, Arabella met her group and boarded another bus to the stadium for that day's events. Coincidentally, England was playing Germany that very afternoon for third place in the Cup tournament. Perhaps the Lionesses this day might return the favor to the German fan who had fucked her, she thought with a laugh!

Though not filled to capacity, Commonwealth Stadium rocked with vociferous fans from both sides. Each hoping for a triumph, they listened raptly, eagerly as the stadium announcer introduced the starting lineups beginning with England.

"... Defender, Laura Bassett; Mid-Fielder, Fara Williams; Mid-Fielder, Arabella Compton ..."