This is the fifth and final part of Laura's 'Fall'. Her story will continue in "The Rise of Laura".
I recommend that you read them in sequence.
Please let me know what you think.
Prologue
I studied English at a redbrick university, got a good degree, and landed a job with a small but prestigious literary publishing house in London. Things did not go as I had wanted. The job sucked and I ended up changing direction.
I think of it as 'my fall from grace', which sounds as if I regret what happened. I don't. I enjoyed the journey and the people I met along the way.
Private meeting
Since my return from Amsterdam, I have been doing a lot more escort assignments, mostly a couple of hours in an evening, but some overnight jobs and an occasional trip away. I realised that I preferred these assignments to the party nights.
Having the chance to connect with somebody, even for only a few hours, was much better than being a glorified waitress who did tricks in a back room.
David was a regular client, and I particularly enjoyed my meetings with him, both at his flat or weekends at nice country hotels.
Then I got a new client who surprised me in several ways. Firstly, it was a woman. Up until now, all my escort meetings had been with men. Secondly, I knew her already. Ivana had eaten me out at the house party we had worked the previous year. Neither thing should have shocked me, but they did.
I talked to Stella about my surprise and especially my doubts about whether I could do it.
"Don't worry" she assured me. "I know from my own experience and from feedback that you are good with women. Although you prefer men in general a pleasant woman client is surely better than a nasty man.
"We both know that Ivana is a bit 'rough' in the eyes of some of our snobbier clientele, but she is good looking and fun company. Approach this like any other date and you will be fine."
On the appointed day, a Friday, I went through my usual routine: hair and nails at my preferred salon, where I deflected the usual enquiries about who I would be meeting and what we would be doing. I think they had a pretty good idea of what I did for a living, but I did not provide any confirmation or share anything more specific than "dinner with a friend".
Back at my flat I had a bath (easier to keep my hair dry), a shave (I like to be completely smooth) and moisturise. Then I laid out my clothes and made sure that my bag was ready (it is bigger than I would like but even for an overnight I have some tools of my trade to carry). I had a light meal around 5pm (not sure if/when we will be eating). Finally, I dressed and called a cab.
This evening, I have chosen to wear a classic little black dress over black underwear and hold-up stockings. Some clients are very specific about where we will be going and what they want you to wear. All I knew about tonight is that I would be meeting Ivana in the cocktail bar of a swanky London hotel, the
De Luxe Chelsea
, at 7pm.
Was Ivana staying at the hotel? Perhaps, it was just a good place to meet.
Would we be having a meal? It was early enough, but some clients want to maximise 'private time'.
Would we be going clubbing? 7pm was too early for that, but perhaps after eating.
All I could be reasonably sure of is that the evening would start with a drink and end with us in bed together.
I spotted her as soon as I walked into the room. She was sat in a high-backed chair facing the long bar counter. She saw me too and stood to exchange air kisses. So far, just female friends meeting.
"You look stunning," I said. She did too. Tall and slim with raven black hair and pale skin, dressed in a long, red dress. Some might consider her face, all angles and planes, hard but to me it is beautiful.
"Thank you. You do too," Ivana replied.
"Champagne?"
I nodded. Ivana signalled a waiter, who promptly brought over a bottle and two glasses.
"On the room, please, Pierre."
"Of course, madam."
"They know you here," I observed.
"Yes, I am here about once a month," Ivana explained. "Actually, the building belongs to my husband's family, so we like to keep an eye on it."
The conversation went easily, we talked and laughed like old friends. About how she had come to the UK as a young refugee. How she met her husband when working as a stripper, and how his friends looked down on her. How I had got into my job and the prejudice I sometimes felt. We had a lot in common.
Ivana suggested that we ate at a tapas bar next door. They seemed to know her there too. The place was busy but somehow there was a free table for us; I assumed that somebody with a booking would have to wait longer than they expected.
After a nice meal and more wine, we headed for Ivana's room where another bottle of champagne was waiting for us. Swiftly she opened it and poured two glasses. Stepping closer she passed one to me.
Slipping an arm through mine Ivana toasted "to pleasure". We clinked glasses, sipped, and kissed. I could taste the champagne on her lips, and in her mouth as our tongues twisted and explored. With her free hand she led me to the huge bed in the centre of the sleeping area.
Glasses safely placed on a side table we kissed again, clinched together as our hands began to roam across the other's body. Ivana started with my upper back and shoulders, bare apart from the spaghetti straps of my dress. Then down to my arse, my sides, and around to my boobs, still covered, but only by flimsy material. She must have felt my nipples respond to her touch.
I mirrored her movements so when one hand slipped under my dress to caress an inner thigh, I did the same. Her dress was much longer but a long slit allowed me easy access. Soon our hands moved from thigh to pussy. I had a tiny thong on, but Ivana was bare. She shuddered as my finger brushed her outer lips, following them upwards to her clit. The mutual stimulation was too much. We collapsed onto the bed, mouths still together, hands still on boobs and pussies, still fully clothed.
Before long Ivana wanted to remedy the latter. Wriggling away from me she dropped to the floor kneeling between my legs. Reaching beneath my dress, she pulled down my thong. There was no ceremony. It took a brief moment.
Then she leant forward and started to lick my pussy. That lasted for much, much longer. It was divine. Lips, tongue, teeth, fingers; she used them all to explore and stimulate me. I recalled Ivana licking my pussy as Rod fucked me at the house party. That had been good; this was even better. Eventually I came, clamping her head between my legs until I remembered that strangling clients is not normal practice.
Ivana was laughing when I apologised and released her.
"Let's get naked," she said, pulling me to my feet then turning so that I could unzip her dress, which was soon pooled on the floor around her feet. We both turned so that she could return the favour. Now, apart from my stockings, we were both naked.
