Belle's Story B. 01

(I'm delighted to welcome my online life-partner PixieHoff as my co-writer for this chapter. There's a reason, which will become apparent, for this collaboration. In addition, we are having a lot of fun bouncing ideas between us. We hope that you, our dear reader, will enjoy it as much as we do.)

Belle:

Having enjoyed a very nice, very long, and very intimate shower together, Alisa & I, now towelled dry, get into bed and cuddle up close to each other. Alisa says "Tonight, as the owner of Chelsea Exclusives, I have received a very interesting email. It concerns our elite service and you, my darling, are our only provider of that service. The email is from a Dr Pixie Hoff who proposes we meet with her, at her club (the Oxford & Cambridge), at a time of mutual convenience. I replied to her with the suggestion that we meet on Friday at one o'clock. She has agreed".

Snuggled up close with my darling fiancée's arms around me, I reply, almost asleep, that It sounds intriguing. Then I drift off to sleep to the gentle lullaby of her beautiful melodic voice.

Waking up is such a delight when it's in the arms of the woman you love and have arranged to marry very soon. For once I'm the first to wake and therefore it's my turn and my privilege to adore her beautiful face at such close quarters. Her leg is draped over mine and a thrill passes through me, feeling her treasure and whole body is so close to me. As she breathes her chest rises and falls, the sight of her uncovered breasts moving slowly excites me so much. I absolutely adore her.

While she sleeps, I recall her saying something last night, just before I dropped off to sleep, something about a meeting to discuss a different sort of elite service date for me. I'm wondering what 'different' means when my darling fiancée wakes to find me gazing adoringly into her eyes: "Good morning sweetheart".

Alisa smiles and wishes me good morning, then our lips touch gently together in the sweetest of kisses. It doesn't take long before we are kissing passionately and with a big smile she says: "It's time for us to get up my love, shall we take our usual lovely morning shower?"

I know exactly what she means and beam my smile of agreement. We get out of bed, and she leads me by the hand into the bathroom. I only just manage to pick up a bathmat while we undress, then go into the shower. She turns on the spray and when it is nice and warm, she stands under the spray with her legs open. I stand transfixed for a moment, adoring her full beauty as the water cascades over her body and some turns into a glorious waterfall from her sex. I need to feel that delicious waterfall on my face, so I fold the bathmat to provide extra thickness for my knees and get into position.

This is what I've been looking forward to since waking up! The shower turned off, she works the fragrant shower gel, and me, into a lather. I scoop some of the lather in my hands and gently, sensuously use it to wash her private parts thoroughly, very thoroughly. I stand and we wash each other, and she returns the favour. Then, after washing each other's back, we face each other and rub our bodies together, laughing hysterically.

The shower is turned on and we wash away all the lather. I kneel on my soggy bathmat and trail a finger up and down between her folds. They may be wet from the shower water, but that's not the kind of wetness we need. It doesn't take long until Alisa's body provides exactly what is needed. I insert two curled fingers inside her and quickly find the familiar texture of her special place. Her moan of pleasure confirm my discovery and I commence my gentle massage.

The water runs in a torrent off her sex and onto my face. I'm in heaven, but there's another kind of torrent I'm seeking. I probe my tongue into her entrance and am rewarded immediately with her beautiful musky taste. My tongue covered with natural lubricant, I very slowly, sensuously trail my tongue between up lips toward an important core of her pleasure. All the time massaging her special place.

My tongue reaches the end of her beautiful valley, so there is little real alternative to climbing to the peak and tapping it with my tongue, as if raising a flag in achievement of my arrival. Her body quivers and she moans, so to protect her precious button, I close my lips around it but carelessly forget to control my tongue which, with a will of its own strokes her button in time with each massage stroke of her button. I am rewarded with a louder, more throaty moan as the synergy provides her with more pleasure than the cumulative effect of stimulating her clitoris and g-spot simultaneously.

On increasing the tempo of my ministrations, I notice a corresponding increase in the volume of my darling's moans of pleasure. Delighted at my discovery I increase the tempo gradually, a little at a time, until she squirms and shakes as well as gets louder. She now is approaching her climax; I continue my attention monitoring her progress like a nurse in an intensive care unit.

Alisa cries her ecstasy and I move my lips to seal them around her opening. I don't want to risk losing even a single drop of her essence. A moment later her body shakes, and a torrent of essence emerges from her, to be received into the safety of my mouth. My fingers continue to massage her g-spot until the aftershocks of subsequent orgasms end and she taps my shoulder. My mouth is so full, I have to swallow some in order to keep the rest safe. A sacrifice I am happy & proud to make.

Standing, we French kiss to share my precious collection, our tongues helpfully dancing to whisk it to a perfect texture. I adore my Alisa; I adore her fragrance and I adore her taste. In short, I adore everything about her, my heart is so full of love for her.

We dry each other with big fluffy bath sheets, then wearing our bathrobes we brush each other's hair with at least a hundred strokes. We go into our dressing room, select some nice undies and sit at our dressing tables to fix our make-up. That done, we select matching shoes & handbags for the little black dresses we choose, put them on and go down to breakfast.

We greet my six ladies and plan our morning. First to the Wedding Registry Office to book our quadruple wedding ceremony, the travel agent to book our flights to Delhi for our honeymoon, the jeweller to buy Inika & Javi's engagement rings to match those of Lali, Piti, Sooni & Riya, then finally to Park Lane to purchase another BMW iX3 Premium Edition car.

Over breakfast, Alisa asks if anyone has read the story called "Love and Prostitution" written by someone called EvieUKNE. They all smile and in chorus say that they have. Alisa asks them about the protagonists Emily & Sansa. Lali says that the story is published on a website called Literotica, as the name suggests it is about Erotic Literature. The heroines are Emily & Sansa. Emily is a young upper-class woman with sophisticated tastes and a good education. Sansa is her bearer, i.e. personal servant. They fall in love and are kidnapped and forced to become sex workers!

Alisa tells them that on Friday, she and I have an appointment with a university professor who wants to engage me as her companion to play the role of Sansa. Hence the question about the story. Piti says she has just sent Alisa and I the links to the story but warns us that it is 45 chapters long. But they all like the story. As the intended Sansa character, I thank them for the information and say that I intend to read as much of the story as I can before the meeting.

After breakfast the men arrive to measure up for an identical automatic door installation on the second garage. They provide an amended estimate which seems reasonable, and I agree for the work to be done the following week.

On our walk to the Registry Office at Chelsea Old Town Hall, I ask Alisa if I can be kept free from dates until the weekend. She says that she was thinking the same thing and rings Michelle to arrange it, saying that they will attend a meeting on Friday to discuss a date of at least one week. Michelle says that the space in my diary can be cleared and the call ends.

The lady who makes the wedding bookings tells us that we'll need the largest suite for our quadruple wedding and checks the diary. We agree on Wednesday the 20th of October at 2:00 p.m. All of us produce our UK birth certificates and fill out the required documents. I pay for all of us using my special debit card, but there is no mention of a 10% discount!

Our wedding booked with more than 28 days' notice, we walk the short distance to the World Travel Club which is also on the King's Road. I book 8 Upper Class tickets with an open return date at a cost of £58,364. Virgin Atlantic Flight VS 302 departs London Heathrow at 11:10 a.m. local time on Friday the 22nd and arrives 8h 30m later at Indira Gandhi International at 12:10 a.m. local time.

The next stop is the jewellery shop used by Lali, Piti, Sooni & Riya to buy their engagement rings. The identical rings are shown to Inika & Javi and the same deal achieved as before. We drink complimentary cappuccinos with Amaretto biscuits while the engraving is completed. I use my special debit card and again get a 10% discount.

Lali, Piti, Sooni & Riya make their way home to prepare a light lunch while Inika & Javi accompany Alisa and I in a taxi to BMW at 70 Park Lane. The salesman shows us the BMW iX3 Premier Edition which Inika & Javi check over. He asks if we would like a test drive and I say it isn't necessary since I already own one of the same model. We sit down to do the paperwork and the cost is almost the same as our 8 flights to Delhi, but my special debit card gives me a 10% discount once more. I sign an authorisation for Javi to collect the car on my behalf the following day. The business complete, we take a taxi back home.

Over the next 48 hours we manage to binge-read the story 'Love & Prostitution', all 45 paragraphs! I've never read erotica before now, but I had to resort to 'going commando' and sitting on a folded bath towel to avoid running out of knickers. Alisa said that she had the same experience.

Armed with an understanding of Dr Hoff's interest in Emily & Sansa, Sooni drives us, in my Phantom, to the meeting at her club (the Oxford & Cambridge). On arriving at the club, we ring the bell and when the door is opened Alisa gives our names and asks for Dr Hoff. He smiles and says that she is expecting us and leads us to the library.

On entering the library, the porter conducts us to a table where a fashionably dressed, beautifully petite lady is seated. We smile warmly and Alisa says: "Dr Hoff, I presume? I am Alisa, and this is my life-partner, Belle, who has an interest in your request."

Pixie:

It caught my attention at once. As well as writing erotica, I am a connoisseur of them. I usually, however, skip anything with sex with men in it. I have never been with one, have no interest in them, and certainly don't want to read about it. So imagine my alarm which this wonderful saga, "Love and Prostitution" by EvieUKNE suddenly had her heroines being kidnapped and made into sex workers!

I hardly knew what to do. With anyone else I would have shaken my head and gone to read something else. So why didn't I? Simple. Her heroine, Emily, a young upper-class woman with sophisticated tastes and a good education reminded me of someone -me. Sometimes one reads between the lines and a character is so well-sketched that it can be like looking at a painting; this one was more like looking into a mirror. Her maid and helper, Sansa, also attracted me. But what really did it was the developing tension between the two, which was finally resolved after their kidnap and rescue. Though nothing was stated bluntly, it was clear that despite her superior station in life, Emily wanted to submit to Sansa. Not in some crude BDSM way, but because she recognised in her a soul mate who would accept her as she was and love her voluntary submission and love her back. It was a love affair of deep attachment; two soul mates. So I read on.

And as I went through the whole forty-five chapters for the fifth time it came to me, I needed to find a Sansa. But how?

A busy university professor has little time for dating. There had been moments, but they had passed, and my success as an academic had been paid for with professional sacrifices. My mother could not understand. We were wealthy, why did I need to work? Why did I not do what my sister had done, add to the family's wealth by marrying into another wealthy family? Then, when I came out as a lesbian when I was twenty-five, she washed her hands of me. I still had my Trust Fund, but would like to have had my mother, but she was implacable. I was going to Hell; so she treated me to a foretaste.

Then I had a week-end reunion at College. I met Sasha, whom I had not seen for yonks. I knew she had been posted by the Civil Service to work with the Duchess of Cambridge, so we had a wonderful gossipy evening talking about how wonderful she is. I have seven scrapbooks of pictures. I simply adore her. Sasha was a mine of wonderful stories about how kind and nice she was. But it was not that which intrigued me, it was her mention of "Chelsea Exclusives" - an upmarket Escort Agency for "discerning ladies."

"You should try it Pix. It isn't a brothel, but they will provide you with a girlfriend, or other experience, and if anything develops that is between you and the woman."

She told me she and a friend had both used its services and been delighted.

"They understand the needs of professional women who are money-rich and time-poor."

She gave me their card.

For the next few days I toyed with it. Could I really? Could I? Wasn't it a bit, well, not the done thing? Then that idea fused with my wish for a Sansa. I looked at their website, which was extremely classy. There was an address to email to "Alisa." I thought I better be respectful and so, firing up the iPad, I did it.

"Dear Miss Alisa, a very good friend of mine who works, shall we say high up in Windsor, has told me of your agency which offers exclusive services to discerning ladies. I would classify myself as one. I am petite, and I am looking for a particular experience.

I write and read erotica, there is a wonderful story called "Love and Prostitution" on the site linked below, by a talented writer called EvieUKNE. It makes me swoon every time I read it, and I identify with the character Emily (though I do not go with men). The dynamic between Emily and a woman called Sansa, who starts off as her servant, but with whom a very different relationship develops is, to be frank, so erotic I use it often.

I should love it if your agency were able to supply a woman to help play Sansa to my Emily. I would, of course, pay the expected fee, and there would be a bonus for the right experience.

I would be happy to be interviewed at my Club, the address is on the link below.

Yours in hope, Pixie Hoff (Miss)"

The moment I sent it I blushed and bit my lip.

"Idiot Pixie, what the devil will she think of you?"

All my life "what was expected of me" mattered. I had always been a good girl, unlike my sister Ellie, who, frankly, had been a tart at Durham where she went to uni. Still, she married a rich man, and now had two beautiful kids, so all was well. I had been the ultimate "good girl". It was helped by the fact I did not like men, and at four foot ten (if I stretch) with nothing in the way of boobs, men did not bother me; there was the odd pervert who thought I was under-age, who got the finger at once. I knew I liked other girls, but apart from the odd kiss or two at school I had been too scared to do anything. I had surpassed expectations by getting a good first at Oxford and then sailing into a successful career in academia. Then when I came out, that was that. So bloody unfair.

I tried to forget my folly. I looked again that evening. My heart skipped a beat. There was a reply. Miss Alisa wanted to meet me at my Club at a time of mutual convenience. She suggested Friday at one o'clock. I responded at once, accepting.

Friday was my day for research at the British Library, so it was but a short cab ride to the Club. I had opted for one of my favourite Stella McCartney mini dresses, which combined professional decorum with a slight hint of something less professional. Fortunate as I am in not needing a bra, I opted for my Stella McCarthy lace-trimmed stretch-silk satin camisole, with her "Bella admiring" lace briefs to bottom out the outfit so to say. For some reason I wanted to look the best I can. I even took care with my make-up, for once, a little mascara and some crimson lipstick. I opted to keep my spectacles; always hated contacts, and this, I thought, was not the time to risk my eyes watering.

I arrived at the Club a quarter of an hour before my appointment. I had reserved a table for three, as Miss Alisa had said she would be bringing her life-partner, Belle, with her. I told Albert, the porter, to expect them and to show them to the library, where I would treat them to a pre-dinner drink.

I had just settled myself with a small glass of chilled Chablis when I saw two of the most beautiful women I had ever seen shown into the room by the porter. One of them simply took my breath away. She was about five foot seven, her brunette hair was shoulder-length and elegantly coiffured; she had curves in all the right places; but it was the sparkle in her dark eyes which drew me. I assumed she must be Belle, for some reason; she seemed the younger of the two, I suppose. I was right. Miss Alisa was also strikingly beautiful, but it was Belle who took my breath away.

"Dr Hoff, I presume? I am Alisa, and this is my life-partner, Belle, who has an interest in your request."

Her manners were as exquisite as her beauty. We kissed cheeks and I bade them sit, ordering them some Chablis; the waitress brought the menus with the wine.

"I thought we might talk before we lunch? I hope the menu is to your liking?"

Miss Alisa and Belle both smiled, assenting, and choosing, as I did, the Dover sole with crushed potatoes and Norfolk samphire; I assured them their choice would please them, as, indeed, it did.

Over the pre-dinner drinks, Miss Alisa told me about "Chelsea Exclusives" and their work. I noted they wore identical engagement rings. Whilst being delighted that two such beautiful women should have found each other, I should be lying if I did not admit to feeling slightly disappointed that Belle was taken.

Once we were seated in the Dining Room and lunch was served, we discussed the services provided by Miss Alisa. I was impressed. Who had any notion that one could make so much money from, well, from what, I found myself wondering? Miss Alisa could not have been firmer in emphasizing that "Escort" was not a polite euphemism for "whore". If, as did happen, sex happened, it was consensual and money would not in any way change hands for it.

It was only after a most pleasant lunch hour that we retired to the withdrawing room for coffee, and finally got to the matter I most wanted to discuss.

As I had thought, Miss Alisa had read it, and so, she said, to my surprise had Belle. Belle had talked a little at lunch. Her comments were always to the point and showed an acute mind. I had an uncanny sense I had seen her before. Her little black dress fitted her form like the proverbial glove, and her beauty was mesmerising; maybe that was why I could not recall where I had seen her before?

"Belle, " she said, as though reading my thoughts, "is also my star escort as well as my life-partner."

I looked surprised.

"But, erm, is, erm, well...."

Miss Alisa laughed, as did Belle.

"You wonder, my dear, how it can be that I allow my future wife to go with other women?"