I met him online. It wasn't anything very serious really, just a bit of flirting, some web cam exposure, then I gave him my phone number. It was weird talking to him on the phone after we'd been typing to each other so long. His voice was deep, educated, very sexy. It wasn't long before we were having phone sex and then we started talking about meeting up.
I vaguely considered the idea because, not only was he attractive with a sexy voice, but he was a stock trader and, shallow bitch that I was, I fancied a taste of the high life.
My family wasn't badly off, but there had never really been any excess money. With my Saturday job I could buy myself the necessaries of life and the little luxuries, but nothing really frivolous and expensive. This rankled especially because I went to college with several girls whose dads were really very well off and they were always flashing the cash.
Not only did I yearn for the freedom to splash out on something entirely unnecessary sometimes, but I had some deeply private urges to be... how can I put this... bought goods? The idea of being given money and, for that money, surrendering control of one's body to the sexual acts of another seemed intensely erotic.
After some weeks of chatting I ashamedly mentioned this to Mark, the stock broker. He almost growled down the line at me,
"You'd like that, would you? Being paid for sex? Perhaps you'd like to be some man's personal whore, have him buy you underwear and expensive jewellery in return for your sexual favours."
"Yes," I gulped, aroused and embarrassed by his frank assessment of my desires. Then, growing bolder with his apparent acceptance of such desires I asked him,
"Would you give me money for sex?"
He paused for a moment, seemingly shocked by such a question.
"Well, judging by those sexy photos you sent me, I would have to say yes."
We joked for a while about what my rates would be and whether I should charge clients by the hour, the day or the numbers of orgasms. It seemed like a very sexy joke and, as we further explored the fantasy, I brought myself off, moaning and gasping down the phone at him while he did the same.
Mark was very open to the sexual discussions we had, the more I talked to him, the more adventurous my fantasies became and the more I voiced them. He was several years older than me, though still in his twenties and, according to him at any rate, was pretty experienced when it came to the ladies.
He was even slightly experienced with the gentlemen, despite defining himself as heterosexual. I consider myself bisexual, so swinging both ways didn't shock me as such, but I appreciated his openness, considering the usual reaction of straight men to being naked when there was another man around!
I honestly don't think I had any real intention of going to visit him. For a start he lived right in the centre of London and my university was on the outskirts – it's about as easy to get to central London from York as it is from the suburbs.
Secondly I was admittedly a little nervous about this man. I'd met people off the net before, but they'd always come to my place or we'd met at a bar or something. Also, I had considered those people friends. We'd talked about emotions, families, music, with Mark it had been almost exclusively sex. Sex and money.
By turning up at his place I was essentially presenting myself for the purposes of sex, surely? And, sexual adventurer as I liked to think myself, that seemed just a little too anonymous and risky for my liking.
With the 'relationship' not being able to develop much further without sexual contact, our communication started to peter out and I only spoke to him occasionally on instant messenger when I was feeling horny and needed to exorcise it somehow. Then I'd put on a little webcam show, because exposing myself and masturbating for a stranger down an anonymous video link made me incredibly wet. We'd both talk dirty, expose ourselves, come, then we wouldn't talk again until one of us needed a release.
A few months later I had to go into London with some fellow students for my course. Unluckily for me, the tutor didn't bother to notify me that he was cancelling the trip due to illness until I was already on the overland train heading for Waterloo. Since I'd paid for the ticket already I decided to go in and visit some galleries and do a bit of shopping in the big London stores.
I got in just after 10am and immediately went to the National Portrait Gallery because it was free, easy to reach by tube and had some of my favourite pictures in it. I mooched around there for an hour, then made my way to Oxford street and hit the shops for an hour before getting bored. Shopping wasn't much fun when you were worrying about spending money.
Since I had a one-day travelcard I decided to explore London a bit. It seemed silly not to when it wouldn't cost me any more and I had nothing else to do. I hopped on and off random buses and tube lines, sometimes coming back on myself by accident, but mostly seeing some odd little bits of London.
The buses were the best, because you could look out at the streets going past and seeing the buildings from the top of a double decker was far more interesting than seeing them from street level because the homogenous plate glass shop fronts gave way to a variety of elegant period buildings, built over the last 3 centuries. Every so often I was confronted by the odd sight of some sixteenth century half-timbered building squished in between a 1930's Art Deco building and a 1960's concrete monstrosity, but that was one of the delights of London – its diversity in everything.
I drifted into a kind of trance, travelling round this maze-like city until I found myself near the docklands, near Canary Wharf. Wasn't this where Mark worked? I wasn't exactly dressed in my most enticing clothes, as I'd been expecting a long walk and was just wearing jeans, sliders and a jumper, but I sent a text asking Mark if he'd like to meet up all the same. Perhaps I even felt a little safer in my non-descript student garb.
To my surprise and consternation he replied immediately with an enthusiastic text message saying he'd love to meet up for lunch, he knew this great little place, his treat etc etc. I know it had been my idea to get in touch and suggest this, but I was still apprehensive because occasionally he had come across as slightly predatory and I really wasn't sure if I could handle a man like that.
My hunger overcame my scruples though, as I realised it was nearly 2pm and I hadn't eaten since 7 that morning, so I made my way to the restaurant.
It was a tiny little Italian trattoria, hidden away down a back street and run by an Italian family. The food was amazing and so were the prices. They may have been serving Italian peasant food, but they were charging London stock-broker-clientele prices! I got to the place before Mark, even though I got lost and had to ask directions twice. While I was waiting I stood outside and read the menu, getting some funny looks from the waiter and patrons inside. I suppose they didn't really get passing trade in that tucked away place.
I knew it was Mark as soon as he turned the corner. He wasn't amazingly tall, just under 6 feet, but he had a presence. His build was slim and muscular, he appeared powerful, an impression heightened by the strong, hawk-like nose that jutted out of his angular face. His eyes were hazel-green, narrow under heavy brows and they glowed against the olive tone of his skin, with the whole set off by a thick thatch of dark brown hair, cut short.
He smiled at me and I smiled back. Despite his angular, unconventional looks, he really was very attractive, especially in his expensive looking suit. His tie was pulled loose and the top button of his shirt was undone. The casual air this added to his look was very appealing; especially with the glimpse it gave of the base of his neck and the smooth hollow between the two ridges of collar bone.
It was awkward for a little while, but Mark ordered a bottle of wine and once we'd had a couple of glasses each the conversation was flowing. It was gorgeous, rough chianti which went well with the hearty, garlic infused food that soon arrived.
