"I can call in a sickie," I told her.
"Brill! Glam yourself up and wear your best 'going out' frock. And make sure you're squeaky clean. Mrs.B's very fussy about that. I might be around when you come in, I'm not sure. I have a date for six o'clock."
"I'm sure I'll manage but thanks for everything."
"Shit, nearly forgot. Better give you the address. Just press the buzzer when you get there and tell them your name. You'll already be in the book so no probs."
She gave me the address and I scribbled it down and then she put her phone down. Oh fuck, what had I done? Too late to back out now though. I could always say I'd changed my mind when I got there tomorrow. I googled the address and found that it was one of the many alleys that connected one shopping street to another, right in the centre of town. Then I went downstairs and tried to act normally in front of Angela. She gave me a couple of odd looks but at least she didn't try to interrogate me.
The next morning, I told her I wasn't feeling too good and that I was going to phone in sick. She went to work as usual and I was left with the house to myself for the day. I spent the morning pacing around nervously trying to distract myself with menial jobs but by just after lunch I knew I needed to get ready. I took special care in the shower in light of what Ruth had told me. I wasn't sure what to expect later this evening, but I wanted to be prepared for anything. I even gave myself an extra close shave down there. I had no way of knowing what this mysterious Mrs.B preferred but I was sure stubble would not go down too well.
I hummed and hawed for ages over what to wear, in the end opting for my classic little black dress. That almost dictated my choice of underwear. I needed a strapless bra as the dress had only the thinnest of straps, so I chose one in black that somehow managed to lift and plump up my small boobs. Combined with the dress it gave me an almost respectable cleavage. The bra came with a matching thong which was ideal as the dress was rather clingy and showed knicker lines really easily. I wasn't sure but in the end I opted for a pair of black hold-ups. Black seemed to be the theme as I stepped into a pair of black three-inch heels. I'd put my blonde hair up as best as I could and tried not to overdo it with the makeup. Before I left, I checked myself out in the mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door. I think I looked good, elegant and sophisticated. I just hoped that Mrs.B would think so too.
I'd decided to splash out and I'd ordered a taxi. I was hardly dressed for riding into town on the bus. It deposited me at one end of the alley. I walked slowly along the narrow lane looking right and left, searching for the right door. When I found the right place, it looked to be freshly painted in gloss black. There was simply the number and a brass plaque with just "Central Escort Agency" etched onto it. To one side a buzzer and an intercom. Nervously I pressed the buzzer.
"Yes, can I help?" a female voice asked me.
I gave my name and there was a brief pause before the door buzzed and swung open. A steep staircase led upwards to one side. It was well-lit and lined with photos of pretty girls. Near the top I stopped when I recognised Ruth from the other evening, looking as glamorous as she had then. I pushed open the door at the top. The front office was spacious and painted red. There was little in the way of furniture apart from a few expensive looking chairs and a large glass and chrome desk. Behind the desk sat a young girl. It took me a moment to work her out. She was dressed as the cliched porno schoolgirl with a tight white blouse with too many buttons undone and a very short tartan skirt that barely covered her. I was puzzled until I realised that she wasn't there for my benefit but for that of the clients. Maybe Mrs.B had a sense of humour.
As I approached the desk, she smiled at me, "Hello Silvie, please take a seat," and she gestured to the chair in front of the desk, "my name is Jane and I'll just phone through for you."
She picked up the phone from the desk and spoke into it. "Your five o'clock is here, Ma'am." Then she simply replaced the phone in its cradle. For a few minutes it was very awkward. We sat in silence looking at each other and trying to hold fixed smiles. I was desperately trying to think of some way to start a conversation when the door to my left opened and a middle-aged woman came in. We both stared at each other and I could feel her eyes examining me. I guessed she was low to mid-forties. I later found out she was forty-nine so good for her. She was very smartly, and I guessed expensively, dressed in a charcoal grey pencil skirt and matching tailored jacket with a crisp white blouse underneath. She wore tan stockings and sensible black shoes. This, I surmised, was the infamous Mrs.B. She headed for me with her hand outstretched in greeting.
"You must be Silvie. Welcome to our humble office," and she took my hand. Her skin was soft, but her grip was firm. She didn't release it but started to gently lead me out. As we entered what could only be her private office she said, over her shoulder, "if anyone calls tell them I've left for the day."
"Yes, Ma'am," said Jane with a slight giggle.
Like reception, her office was once again minimally furnished. It was mostly occupied by a luxurious looking red leather sofa accompanied by a matching armchair. I thought I was being taken to sit down but she suddenly stopped and let go of my hand, leaving me standing in the centre of the room. She turned to look at me, her arms folded. I had never felt so self-conscious as I did at that moment. Her stare was making me nervous. She slowly started to walk round behind me and quickly disappeared out of my line of sight. I didn't dare turn my head to follow her. I jumped when a finger trailed down the middle of my back and over the curve of my bum. It traced the line of my cleft and then was gone. She reappeared from the opposite side and went to sit on one end of the leather sofa, still scrutinising me. Just when her stare had reached the point of being unbearable, she smiled and patted the seat next to her.
"Come and sit here, my dear."
I was so relieved to have passed the first test that my knees almost buckled when I walked over to her. I made it safely to the sanctuary of the sofa and breathed a sigh. She asked me loads of questions; about me personally and about my personal life, about where I was working, and then more intimate ones. Was I a virgin? When did I first have sex? Had I ever been with a man? What was my relationship with my house mate? Had I ever slept with her? Had I ever been with an older woman? I began to feel uncomfortable, but I answered as truthfully as I could. Finally, she seemed to relax. The grilling was over. She then started to explain what they did here. She also started to stroke my thigh as she spoke. I assumed that I was still being tested so made no attempt to stop her.
Are you hungry?" she suddenly asked.
In fact, I was really famished so I nodded my head enthusiastically. While still caressing my leg and with her hand getting higher each time, she pulled a phone from a pocket and managed to speed-dial a number. She was obviously well known to the person on the other end.
"Ricardo, darling, I don't suppose you have a table for two spare tonight? Oh, you are such a dear. We'll be along in about half an hour. Of course, my usual waitress, you know me. Bye."
By now her hand was flirting with my underwear. I wondered if this was her usual tactic, but I knew I had to be compliant if I was to get the job. Then she stood up, taking my hand and persuading me to my feet. I was relieved when my dress fell back to its proper place and I could feel less exposed. In the outer office Jane was still waiting patiently. Mrs.B went over to her and kissed her on the lips before telling her she could go home. The three of us left together, Mrs.B carefully locking up behind us. Jane went one way and Mrs.B took my arm and guided me in the opposite direction. She walked us through the early evening streets to an elegant looking restaurant. Inside we were greeted effusively by a man who I assumed must be the Ricardo from the phone call, and we were led to a table tucked quietly away in a corner. She insisted that we sit side by side on the banquette. I was nervous as I could guess what was to come.
I wasn't wrong and by the time a very pretty young girl came up to take our order, my pussy was being stroked through my thong. Thankfully it was below table level although I got a sense that the waitress knew what was going on. I was glad when Mrs.B ordered the same thing for both of us as I wasn't sure I could trust myself to speak. The waitress was obviously well known to Mrs.B and she was spoken to with affection. A bottle of wine and two glasses somehow appeared, and I was encouraged to try it. I don't know anything about wine, but I just knew that this wasn't cheap. The pressure of her finger increased, and the thin silk was being pushed between my pussy lips. I was already aroused, and I could sense my juices starting to flow freely. I hadn't yet read Angel's story, so I didn't know that this was the norm with any new recruit.
The pressure eased when the food appeared, and I could relax a little. I've never eaten anywhere quite as posh and I'd certainly never eaten venison before. I hoped I was behaving to her satisfaction as I started to eat. I assumed that this represented a normal evening out with one of her clients, so I wanted to impress. Conversation dwindled while we ate, and I could enjoy the beautiful tastes and textures of the food. When we had finished, however, her hand went back up inside my dress even before the plates had been cleared. This time my thong was pulled to one side and she started to toy with my clit. I was grateful for the long white tablecloth as I looked around at the other diners, each deep in conversation with their companions and seemingly oblivious to what was going on out of sight.
The sorbet that arrived came in a little box made of chocolate and was elegantly decorated with tiny flowers. Before I was allowed to taste it, she pulled her hand away from my pussy and held it in front of my face. Her index finger was slick with my juice and she told me to taste it. Obediently I let her put it in my mouth where I licked and sucked at it. It was a familiar taste and one that I had grown to love. Then her hand was gone, and I was told to try the sorbet while her finger started to push into me. This set the pattern for the meal. A mouthful of clean crisp sorbet and chocolate that was so refreshing, followed by the musky taste of my pussy. This went on for half an hour and I began to see the fun side. When the waitress came to clear our plates Mrs.B put out a hand to stop her leaving.
