Dinner at Emily’s

*This is a continuation story for characters first introduced in "The Agency." This is part 2.*

God this girl was annoying. Sarah was clearly a beautiful woman and there was most likely a terrific body under her somewhat unglamorous business suit. But she just jabbered endlessly and seemed incapable of actual dialogue. She had a million things to say about everything and any questions or gaps in speech that required Joel to actual respond were immediately interrupted, such was her impatience. And somehow she managed to always be on her phone at the same time. She was simultaneously dominating the entire conversation between them whilst being strangely absent.

Though frustrated, Joel found it difficult to be angry. There was nothing malicious about the woman; and she was clearly intelligent to be in the job she was in - a senior property analyst in the same agency as him. But he could bear her company for only so long before clocking out. He would try hard to make that last for as long as this coffee would take. They entered the Costa shop, relieved at the lack of queues.

"I'm gonna hit the toilet quickly," he said, a thumb in the direction of the WC. "I'll have a cortado."

He needed a minutes break from her. The cortado would hopefully keep the liaison short. When he was done in the toilet he joined her at a small table with proper armchairs; altogether more desirable than being face to face over the more bistro like table and chairs available. He relaxed back into the chair and resigned himself to further barrage of inane chat from Sarah.

When bored, his perverted side always indulged and now he found himself looking at the small v of chest that the shirt of her suit displayed. He imagined her unbuttoning it further and placing his hand inside of it. This train of thought wasn't helping in all honesty. They'd be expected back in the office in less than 30 minutes, so at least there was light at the end of the tunnel; even if the tunnel did seem to eke out into the distance.

Things changed when a women in a Costa uniform arrived at their table with drinks. She gave the cappuccino to Sarah (mid text and unable to thank) and then stood staring at Joel. His breath was taken away as he made eye contact with the woman. She was as cute as he remembered: short, about 5ft tall with messy curly black hair shorn to her jawline, full cheeked, a voluptuous renaissance figure, chesty and feminine.

"This you?" she said ambiguously, gesturing towards the cortado. He nodded in response, his mouth open in surprise. She stood there and held his gaze for longer than was necessary; Sarah, lost in her phone, oblivious to the tension between them. Then the woman slowly turned away to leave. As she made her way back to the counter she stopped at a couple of tables to collect empty cups and plates; continuing to hold his gaze as she did so. Joel was transfixed by her presence and could not help but relive a barrage of memories from their previous encounter.

"Joel!"

"Yes. Sorry, say again?"

Shit. Caught out gawping like an idiot. He made every effort to concentrate on Sarah for the next half hour or so; but Emily stayed in his line of sight the whole time, making it almost impossible. After what seemed like an eternity Sarah shouted, "Look at the time! We better head back."

Joel needed to think quickly. He looked at his phone as he picked his jacket up and concocted a lie. "Actually you go ahead and I'll catch up. I've just got an email from a potential sale and I need to follow up immediately." He said this seriously and wagged his phone by his head; real estate talk for must-call-now-or-will-lose-a-sale. To hammer home he fell back in the chair, pressed a button on the phone and held it to his ear, holding on to the idea that the client call was sacred. Sarah bit and left with a nod of understanding.

With Sarah gone, the place was as good as empty but for an old lady in the corner and one other Barista going about her duties. Joel stayed in his seat, crossed his legs and sat waiting. A minute later Emily came walking over with a circular tray in her hand, a mere prop. She walked up close to the table and stood with one hand resting on her hip.

"This is a nice surprise." Emily was silent. "I had hoped that we might meet again. I've been..."

"Who was that you were with? Girlfriend?"

"Uh, no. Just someone from work."

"So you'd be free for dinner? Tonight?"

"Uh, yeah," he said, surprised, "Definitely."

"Good. My place."

She collected up the two empty cups and left a slip of paper on the table.

"I look forward to it," he said as she walked away.

After an afternoon of pure distraction Joel made it home around six. He'd texted Emily's number that she'd left for him and she'd confirmed time and place, saying nothing else. Was it a date? He just wasn't sure. It was probably a date. Their one previous encounter had been nothing short of the most sexually depraved and debauched night of his life. So it was likely that her inviting him to dinner was motivated by a sexual or possibly romantic interest in him.

Or maybe not. The nature of their previous encounter had been, for her part, professional. She'd been supplied by a high-end escort agency of sorts who operated discretely. The service she'd provided had been wildly beyond any expectation he'd had and more than justified the price tag attached to the evening. She'd even provided a 3rd party contractor who'd added a special and memorable touch to the evening. So maybe tonight was another professional appointment for her. He would have thought that this would be unambiguously stated; especially if he were being expected to fork out similar money.

Or maybe neither possibility were true. Maybe it was just a casual meeting. Given the nature of how he'd bumped into her earlier it would seem that she had moved on to other work, so to speak. Maybe she'd left all that behind. Regardless, seeing her again had caught him off guard. That Costa uniform did nobody any favours but the apron wrapped around her waist at least accentuated her figure. Every detail about her brought back something sordid. He had been aroused at the mere sight of her.

The first thing he did was shower. For safety's sake he brought himself off in the shower. This was standard date etiquette for him; it helped to both control libido if sex was off the table and maximise staying power, should it be required. Regardless of propriety, he dressed properly; ironing a smart shirt and combining this with a decent pair of trousers, appropriate tie and jacket and those expensive brogues he'd bought last year. He was ready ahead of time so killed half an hour on an old Zelda game in order to take his mind off things before selecting a decent bottle of red from the kitchen, checking his hair in the mirror and skipping out of the door, more excited than he had been for longer than he could remember.

Emily did not have long to get ready. She wanted this evening to be perfect so she bought something easy to prepare on the way home, giving her more time to clean the place up properly and get her outfit perfect. She texted ahead to make sure nobody else would be home so that they'd have the place to themselves. With food ready to go in the oven, she was out of the shower a full hour before he was due to arrive. Plenty of time to make sure she looked perfect. She sat in front of her vanity and took time to fix her hair and makeup properly whilst wearing an emerald silk green robe. She half hoped he would be early so that she could answer the door in this robe. They had history with this robe and she knew it would be an arresting approach to shove it in his face. Alas, Joel was punctual and she was ready and looking perfect by the time he knocked on the front door.

She opened the door and stood holding it open with one arm for a few seconds, allowing him to take in the whole view. She wore a deep red dress that billowed prettily at the bottom and showed an attractive plate of pale, heaving chest with a tattoo on the right breast. Her hair-curly and just below the chin-was perfect black in contrast to the red. She wore high-heeled Mary Janes to finish the look. The combination was a lethal mix that engaged a man's attention.

"Welcome." She smiled slightly, her calm demeanour barely cracking, and then stood aside to invite him in. She closed the door and he handed her the bottle.

"I hope Red is ok."

Now inside, Joel could smell her perfume and the sensation brought back many happy memories. He took in the line of cleavage and hoped they'd be sitting down soon.

"Thank you," she said as she took the bottle from him. "Come through," she continued and led him through the hallway towards the kitchen.

The entirety of the flat was lit by tasteful lamps only, giving a sedate and seductive ambience. His attention was caught in the hallway by a display of photographs on the wall. Mostly Emily with various family and friends. What stood out was one particular photo of what appeared to be Emily in a wedding dress, holding flowers and stood beside a reasonably well to do looking man who seemed maybe ten years older than her. Joel stood there for a few seconds blinking in disbelief. When he realised that Emily had walked ahead and was already in the kitchen he hopped along to catch up.

"Please, sit," she said gesturing towards a well made table with a single candle lit between two place settings. Joel sat down nervously. What the fuck? He looked over his shoulder as if to see if someone else was there. What had he got himself into? Was she some weird attention seeker who liked to bring men home for her husband to kick off at? Maybe it was a previous marriage. He was keen to ask but was just a little too taken back to form words. "We're having chicken so I have white chilled. Or I can open your Red if you'd prefer?"

Joel regathered and answered, "uh, yeah. White's good."

She grabbed a two thirds full bottle from the fridge, pulled the cork out with a satisfying "thhhhop" and stood beside him as she slowly poured wine into his glass. She was very close to him with her free arm resting on the back of the chair in which he sat. It was a borderline intimate proximity. He looked into her face as she poured, trying to figure her out. She didn't meet his gaze but breathed deeply, taunting him with a rise and fall of her considerable chest. When the glass was suitably filled she placed the bottle on the table and went back to preparing the meal. She dragged plates out of the oven and within a few minutes was placing a meal in front of him. One look at it and his mouth watered. There was a large chicken breast adorned with a handful of asparagus on top, the whole thing dressed with a lime smelling butter and roasted new potatoes and al dente mange tout beside. He thanked her and she tipped a glass towards him as she sat. He placed other concerns to one side in order to enjoy his meal properly. The food was homely: a proper meal served hot with no pretension. All it asked of him was to be consumed. He sat and took his time.

Emily was unfazed by his presence in her home, something she'd long desired. She felt an impatience. When he'd walked through the door she'd fought against a compulsion to undress before him and offer herself up immediately, meal be damned. But sitting here quietly enjoying a meal together, she was glad of the effort. Joel was the first to break the silence.

"So Emily," he began as he cut off a mouthful of delicious chicken breast, "tell me about yourself."

"What would you like to know?" she countered, reaching for her glass of wine.

He just came right out and said it.

"Are you still working as a prostitute?" he said as he placed meat in his mouth. He was worried that the question might offend or seem arrogant but didn't know any other way of putting it.

Both her eyebrow and her lips raised slightly. Either she was surprised by the question or she enjoyed his directness. Possibly both. Unfazed, she swallowed her wine and answered, "no, you have the unique honour of being my last client." Joel wept for the industry. Shakespeare had put down his quill. "Are you still using whores?" she countered.

Now Joel copied her smirk and understood: it was fun to be asked relevant questions which don't come up in the day to day. "God no! It was a small fortune to secure your services for the night. That's not something I could afford with any regularity. Which is not to question the value of your service," he assured her. She smiled politely at the compliment and the conversation paused as they both continued to eat. "And how about your friend Nikki; is she well?" he asked after a time.

The night they'd met, Emily had supplied a third party to partake in the night, sharing a portion of the considerable fee. The agency through which she'd been supplied always offered clients a selection on the night and she often missed out on work that she otherwise would have enjoyed to seemingly more attractive options. Having an extra helped to tip the balance in her favour.

"I've not seen her since. Coupla texts. She's fine," Emily said somewhat dismissively as she finished her meal and placed her knife and fork together on the plate with good etiquette.

"To think I nearly went with option 2," Joel said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Emily laughed. "Oh, her." The woman to whom Joel was referencing had been a tall, slender Italian, brunette dancer who had been one of his choices on the night he and Emily had met six months ago. She was undoubtedly the woman of any man's dreams. But he'd been put off by the lack of compatibility that his questionnaire had revealed. "Honestly, I understand she's beautiful; but that woman just has no business whoring. Pam showed me some of her feedback and she does very little other than lie on her back and open her legs. Enough for some, I guess."

Pam was the agency representative who'd been both Emily and Joel's contact. It would seem that Emily had a strong connection with her as she was privy to information that Joel would have presumed would be otherwise unavailable to her.

"Well I was then, and remain still, very pleased with my choice," Joel declared as he finished his meal finally.

Emily smiled a smile that was equal parts appreciation and smugness. She was a great fuck and she knew it; but it was lovely to hear someone she felt an attraction to say it out loud. "Yes, I saw your feedback. Pam sent it to me with the video."

This took Joel by surprise. He wasn't sure how he felt about video footage of himself having sex with prostitutes being in anyone else's possession other than his own. "You've seen the video?"

"I have indeed."

"And what about your husband?" he said, nodding towards the hallway where the wedding picture hung. "Has he seen it?"

Emily let the question hang in the air, acknowledging the inevitable arrival of the subject. "No, I haven't shared it with him. Or anyone else for that matter. Though he's keen to see it," she said, sipping wine.

"So he knows about it? Your whoring?" he asked, embracing her terminology.

"Yes, he knows," she said matter of factly.

"I must say, I'm surprised to find you're married. Everything about tonight is surprising. Confusing even. First I couldn't work out whether this was a proper date or another appointment. Now I'm here and you're married? Does he know I'm here? Is he coming back anytime soon?"

"I'm sorry, allow me to clarify," Emily began. "My whoring work was just a little side hustle that allowed me to meet suitable men and women to explore my sex life to its full potential. I like sex and I have somewhat unusual tastes and interests; and in a few select cases I found I was happy to be paid to have sex with a stranger. I took few clients and only the ones who interested me the most. My larger income comes from my art work and some performance work on the underground fetish scene where I have gathered a large following in recent years. My husband is, whilst a decent man all round: a worthless cuck; and our marriage is an arrangement that mutually benefits both of us. He provides me with a home..." she declared, holding a hand up to gesture towards their surroundings, "...and in return has the pleasure of my company and the gift of humiliation and torment. He's not entitled to sex with me." With this she sipped her wine again, allowing the point to settle. "So no, he's not coming back anytime soon. I told him to leave as soon as I knew you were coming over. When you are here he will not be, unless you wish it. As for the whoring, he very much enjoys hearing about my exploits and being made to feel worthless and rejected. After arriving home from our appointment I took my clothes off and had him wash them while I lay in the bath and told him everything you did to me and how satisfied I was." Talking about it was making her wet. She wanted to fuck this guy now. But this conversation needed to happen. And besides, she wanted him to initiate. "Furthermore, I can confirm that you are a guest in my home and not a client. As I said, I don't do that anymore."

"So this is a date?"

"Call it that if you like."

"What would you call it?"

"You're here... I'm here... for you. You can eat your dinner and leave or you can take me here on the table. You can bring me your laundry to clean or leave me your cum to swallow. It's my place to serve you. I hope for the pleasure of your body but I make no demands. Use me however you want. So long as you use me. My wish is that our relationship carry on the way it began - with you treating me like a whore."

She sipped wine again, signalling that her position on the matter was clear and closed for her part. Joel sipped his wine too and considered her words carefully. He was aroused by her terms and the idea of rejecting them was in no way realistic.

"So does that mean we would be in a relationship?"

"Are you looking for a girlfriend?"

Joel answered honestly: "Not in the traditional sense, no. That's not what I want."

Emily seemed in no way affected by this answer. "Then there's no need for you to think of me as one. Like I said: I'm here for you. I'm available to you whenever you want me. I'd prefer you call ahead but make no mistake: you show up at that door unannounced and you won't be turned away, no matter the circumstances." Joel saw this as a challenge and made a mental note to test this commitment at some point in the near future. "Now, shall we have desert? Or would you like to come into the bedroom?"

Joel had other ideas. He wanted to watch the video with her. He sat with his wine in the living room as she spent 10 minutes at her laptop transferring files onto a memory stick. She strolled into the living room and reached behind the tv to insert the stick into an auxiliary input. Then she grabbed a small remote from the coffee table and sat down next to Joel, folded her legs up onto the sofa and leant in against him. Joel leaned back and put an arm out over the back of the sofa and she fell back into his hold automatically. She scrolled through a menu of file names and selected one. On the screen a familiar image of himself sitting in a large chesterfield leather chair with two women at his feet appeared frozen on the screen. He was taken back by the large size of the picture on the tv; he'd been used to watching it on his tablet at home. But on this large screen all the sexy details were magnified. Emily pushed play and snuggled further into his embrace. She was calm on the exterior but just beneath the surface she was already burning with horniness. This video was not going to help. Despite the CCTV nature of the picture, it was a potent image that brought back memories for both of them.

They both sat and watched his cock get sucked by the two women, one of them the fragrant, sexy goddess who sat beside him, her hand now resting on his inner thigh. The onscreen events were hardcore filth, the likes of which Joel had never experienced before or since. The women slathered all over his cock making a filthy show for his pleasure, kissing each other hungrily all the while.