A story in eleven chapters of how two women test the murky waters of lesbian prostitution.
Chapter 1: Finding her way.
She'd been warned of course. She'd been told at beauty school that it could happen and that it probably would.
"Just be firm and polite and resist," the instructor had said. "Try not to offend but if the other party becomes too persistent, then say. "I'm sorry but I shall have to stop the treatment and ask you to leave."
All good advice but of a type that goes in one ear of a twenty one year old girl and out the other with hardly any of it being retained. Well that's how it was with Sam.
At beauty school in Knightsbridge as a last ditch effort by her rapidly becoming frustrated, parents to provide her with the basis for a career she was training to be a beauty therapist. The plan was to get the necessary qualification, work for a few years to learn the trade and then maybe open her own beauty parlour or, as her now and then boy friend Charles called it, a posh massage parlour.
Sam was a lovely looking girl with parents who doted on her. They were comfortably off financially but not to the level that they could or, indeed, would keep her. So she had to work. It's "as what?" that was the question. She was bright but hadn't yet found out what she wanted to do. However, she'd got good A level results that got her into a reasonable, though not top rung, university but hated it and left half way through her second year when she was nineteen. She'd dabbled with acting school but again found that very demanding and after one term she'd drifted away from it taking on a number of PA and promotion type jobs that friends and friends of friends usually found for her.
So when someone suggested beauty college and she discussed that with her business-minded dad it all seemed a great idea. She was soon enrolled and throughout the two-year course she not only enjoyed it but also did very well, for in most subjects she was either at, or near to, the top of the fourteen girl class. After, in many ways surprisingly to her but pleasingly to her parents, completing the course and gaining her diploma with distinctions she soon landed a job as a trainee beauty consultant in a small, ladies only salon just round the corner from Harrods.
In the first six months or so she was sort of propositioned a couple or three times.
"Do you do any extras?" was how the older, very overweight new client had asked reaching out and taking hold of Sam's hand as the massage was finished. Flustered Sam mumbled that she didn't and fortunately the client didn't press things any further.
Leaning over the table where the tall, slim, thirty something woman she'd treated a couple of times before was laying on her front, naked with her modesty maintained by a towel draped over her bottom Sam first felt something brush against her knee. Looking down she saw that the beautifully manicured fingernails of the client were touching her leg just above her kneecap beneath the hem of her buttoned right down the front, white coat. At first she thought it might have been a mistake for some clients did tend to let their arms dangle down the sides so she carried on massaging the slim, well-toned back. But when she felt it again, this time softer, and looking down she saw that it was the fingertips on her leg she knew it wasn't a mistake.
Sam moved away and went round the table to massage from the other side hoping the client would realise she wasn't interested. It happened again though and this time she reached down and, taking the client's wrist in her hand said.
"Could you put these beneath your chin please?"
She got that message and Sam had no other problems for a couple of months.
Although the salon was air-conditioned the sheer blistering ninety-degree heat of that summer made it very warm in the massage cubicle that Sam usually used. "Still it was the warmest in winter," she reconciled herself, feeling the perspiration between her breasts and on her forehead as she massaged the Arab looking lady who the salon owner had told Sam was immensely rich.
It was the first time Sam had treated her and after the steam bath, sauna and treatment with various mudpacks, the waxing and the toning they'd just started the massage prior to the facial and make-up.
Chatting away quite easily Sam was impressed by Soona, as she insisted on being called. Friendly, warm and easy to talk to, though having the confidence and self-assurance of many rich people, they got on well during the first couple of hours of Soona's morning long session.
She told Sam that she was married, offering, "arranged by my dad," by way of an explanation making Sam wonder why she felt the need to explain. She gabbled on about having three children when she wasn't even thirty yet and told Sam that she was from the Lebanon although her husband had houses there, in Dubai and America and was just buying one here in London. She told Sam quite a lot about her fabulous life-style but in no way sounded boastful or arrogant or cocky.
When Sam walked into the massage cubicle she was surprised to find Soona sitting on a chair naked.
"It's so bloody hot I can't have that towelling robe on me. It's about time this place got some thinner ones." She said saw her eyes roaming up and down Sam's body.
Wearing the standard white coat that buttoned up the front Sam was aware that the tunic was quite tight on her and thus her large breasts and rounded hips and bottom were displayed to their best advantage. She was also aware, even though she rarely thought about it being in an all female work environment, that the fine cotton material was slightly see through especially where it was stretched and thus her underwear, or certainly the outline of it, could be seen through it.
And it seemed to her, as she stood there quite surprised at seeing her client so blatantly naked sitting on the chair leaning back on the arms her legs crossed, that Soona's eyes were taking all of this in. It felt to Sam as though the woman's dark eyes were burning into her and focusing on the areas of the coat that were tight, on the parts of her that were emphasised by that and on the outlines of what was under it. It was as though they were seeing right through the material. As though, like men so often did, they were mentally undressing her and were seeing her most intimate places.
Gathering her composure she smiled and said.
"Yes it gets very warm in here."
"I don't know how you can work in here, especially with that long coat on. You must fry in it."
"Oh we get used to it," Sam replied rolling out some fresh paper towel on the massage table.
"Well," Soona said standing up quite close to Sam in the fairly small cubicle, "you don't have to stand on ceremony for me Sam."
