We had no more appointments booked and, if this month were to follow the pattern of the previous two, I wouldn't see Victoria and His Lordship for another few weeks. With some clients I would probably make contact with them if I hadn't heard anything for a few days, but I knew with these two that they'd be in touch when they wanted me. And after last night, I very much hoped they wanted me. I was certain that Victoria did at least.
Nearly three weeks passed and still I heard nothing. An offer to work at a party near Edinburgh came up and I couldn't turn it down, especially since the client was another semi-regular. The parties he hosted weren't exactly sex parties, but there was usually me and another escort invited along as part of a mixed group, and if we added some spice to the occasion then so be it. There was no attempt to pass us off as anything but hired girls and so we were expected to be risqué, as long as the guests appeared comfortable with it. At the last party I think we'd both ended up in only our underwear and stockings. Or at least, I think I kept my underwear: the host is rather more insistent that we join in with the alcohol consumption than most and, since I don't need to be on my guard with that group, it makes it an easy decision to go along with his suggestions.
This time I believe I'll be working alone, though, as he'd asked me if there was anyone I could suggest to work alongside me. I came up blank and I hadn't heard anything that led me to believe that he'd found a replacement for the previous girl, although I had no idea why she wasn't going to be there again. Maybe she had insisted on keeping her underwear? I genuinely couldn't remember.
But, of course, no sooner had I accepted the offer than my phone buzzed on the table and a text message from Victoria arrived.
"In Somerset," it said, "Can you come tomorrow?"
I rolled my eyes: why did she have to wait until the last minute? I ran the logistics through my head: drive down to Somerset tomorrow morning, one night there, back to London, then the train to Edinburgh the next. It was going to be busy, but I could keep everyone happy as long as the trains didn't let me down. But Victoria would be out of luck if she expected to monopolise my time for the next four days as she usually did.
"Sounds great!" I replied, "Send me the details."
Victoria knew what to send: a hotel address was all I'd need. She would already have everything booked and ready for me on the assumption that I would accept.
"Somerset" turned out to be "Bristol", and the city name is I think how anybody except the upper classes would refer to it. Instead of driving I decided to take the train and packed myself an overnight bag with a selection of dresses and matching underwear. I had no idea what kind of social situation they'd put me in so I had to be prepared for anything from a casual drink to a formal dinner.
Once I arrived in Bristol I took a taxi to the hotel, which was on the outskirts of the city. After I'd checked into my room and hung my clothes up I sent Victoria a message.
"I'm here. It's a lovely hotel! Thank you."
I had found that showing appreciation to my clients went a long way. Even if it was expected that they would pay for everything, they liked to hear gratitude.
The reply came quickly: "Great! Meet in the lobby at 6? I have a restaurant booked."
It was safe to assume that the restaurant would be pretty exclusive so I picked out a red cocktail dress with short sleeves and, since the weather wasn't quite as good as the past month, stockings beneath. It was almost a golden rule in the escort business that a girl wears stockings, not tights... Lingerie instead of underwear... panties instead of knickers... you get the idea. I always double-checked that the stockings weren't obvious from a casual glance, though, and most of my dresses were chosen to be just about long enough, but still short enough that I could let the client catch a glimpse if I wanted to. Although I had a couple of very short skirts for when I had a client who liked to see that kind of thing, and liked that other people saw that kind of thing too.
The dress was one of my least revealing, but it fitted my slim figure exceptionally well, and stockings always helped to make an outfit feel sexy. I slipped on a pair of tall, black heels and made my way down to reception at ten minutes to six. I wanted to make sure that I didn't keep Victoria waiting as she was usually very punctual.
At a minute to six I heard footsteps coming down the staircase and Victoria walked down, taking each step carefully and deliberately as if making a grand entrance. She wore a light blue wrap skirt and matching jacket with a white blouse that was buttoned up to the collar. The skirt came just below the knee and, although the evening was still warm enough for bare legs, the ever-shy Victoria wore tights beneath. Or at least I presumed she wasn't wearing stockings; I doubted she even owned a pair. On her feet she wore tall white high heels, although not as high as the ones I had chosen for her the last time we had met. In fact, it was one of the most conservative outfits I had seen her in.
She looked more like she was going to a wedding than out for a night on the town. What a change this was from the last time I had seen her, standing in her husband's arms in only a pair of high heels, and I wondered if she had taken a step backwards in the intervening three weeks. Nonetheless, I grinned at her and was ready with the compliments.
"Wow! You look amazing!" I told her. "I'm going to be well and truly outshone tonight." She grinned at the compliment. "Is Mr– on his way down as well?"
"Oh!" she said, "I thought we'd told you. He's had to go away on business."
Ah, I thought, that changes things. I was certain that she hadn't mentioned any such thing. I felt that there was some scheming going on in Victoria's mind.
"Still," she said, as if she was making the best of it, "we can enjoy a night out together. Just us girls."
I smiled: in truth, it didn't matter who was here and who wasn't. I was being paid for a job and I was going to do it. But it was amusing that Victoria thought she had "trick" me into being alone with her when every single minute of our time together was because she was paying me for it.
"We can indeed," I said with a smile. Victoria and George may have been my first (and still only) married couple that I had accompanied as a professional escort, but she certainly wasn't my first girl-only night out. "What do you have planned for us?"
Her eyes sparkled at the open-ended question. "I've booked the restaurant," she said, "But they have a bar so if we turn up a little early we can have a drink. Sound good?"
"Sounds perfect," I said with the most enthusiasm I could gather.
The reception called a taxi to take us to the restaurant and, as I suspected, it was a very exclusive establishment. We took a seat at the bar and the waiter mixed our cocktails. I had a Margarita and Victoria ordered a Negroni.
"You liked the Negroni, then?" I asked, referring to the drink I had introduced to the couple only a few weeks before.
"I did indeed," she said, "Although this one isn't as good as yours." Her eyes sparkled again and she looked me up and down. I realised that in Victoria's mind she was flirting with me.
"It tastes okay," she continued, "But I liked the way the other one was served better."
I giggled, as was expected of me. I wasn't in the least bit embarrassed by what had happened, and I was sure it wouldn't be the last time that I'd become a naked cocktail waitress.
I try not to drink too much when I'm working, but when you have a large cocktail in front of you it's quite hard not to drink it without appearing rude. And it was better to be a tiny bit inebriated than to appear rude to a client. By the time our table was ready Victoria was on her second Negroni while I had just finished my first Margarita.
We were led through the restaurant to a quiet area at the back and sat at a table inside a semi-private booth. There we talked as we worked our way through seven very small but perfectly crafted courses. It always amazes me that such food can make one feel full when the quantities appear miniscule.
The bottle of white wine we had started with was almost finished, which was mostly down to Victoria's consumption, I might add, and I was starting to wonder what else she intended for us that evening. She was the client, and a very good one at that, so there wasn't much that I would refuse, but her relationship with her husband was on my mind.
Victoria looked suddenly thoughtful.
"Do you enjoy your work, Camilla?"
