She was as nervous as hell. She had given up smoking as a teenager, but wished that right now she had a pack of cigarettes in her handbag. Anything to stop her shaking with nerves.
She had chosen her outfit carefully. The black push-up bra with matching thigh high lace panties. The black dress that ended an inch above her knee and had the keyhole cut out to show her cleavage to best advantage.
On her feet, her highest black heels with the silver 5" spike. Any higher and she would never have been able to walk on them. As it was, they thrust her hips forward and accentuated the natural sway of her body.
Bare legged but sporting a fine tan, she had applied slightly more make-up than she normally would, particularly around her eyes, and she had deliberately chosen her most crimson red lipstick with matching nails.
As she drove to the bar, her heart was pounding, the pulse in her temple throbbing like mad, and more than once she almost turned round and drove back. But she was determined to do this, partly to prove to herself, if not to him, that he was not the only one that could play away and also, now, driven by the lust that the idea had planted in her brain.
She stood at bar, while her drink was poured – white wine spritzer with soda. After paying for it, she took it to a seat in the corner, where she could observe everyone that came in, and – more to the point – they could see her. As she walked across the room, she was conscious of around a dozen pair of make eyes, perusing every inch of her body.
She sipped her drink and looked around. As her gaze fell on each man, they looked away and resumed the conversations they were in or returned to reading their newspapers.
'Damn!' she thought, 'I should have brought a magazine or something.'
Too late now.
To look as if she was occupied, she opened her handbag and pretended to rifle through it.
'Can't you find your cigarettes?' asked a male voice, as a man, holding a freshly pulled pint of beer sat down beside her. 'Would you like one of mine?'
'I – er ,' she started, not sure whether to say she didn't smoke.
Before she could answer, he interrupted.
'Of course, we have to go outside to smoke these days,' he chuckled.
She smiled back.
'Of course', she replied.
He stood to let her move first. Collecting her handbag and drink she did so, and responded to his gesture to go through to the back of the bar where a patio was set aside for smokers.
When they reached it, they found themselves alone on the patio. He lit two cigarettes, took one from his mouth and handed it to her, and smoked the other himself.
She put it to her lips. The first time she'd smoked in more than ten years. As she drew lightly on it, she was grateful it was a menthol brand, one that she had favoured in her youth, and although she coughed slightly at first, her second draw sucked the smoke into her lungs and she relaxed visibly.
'I should have asked,' he said, 'On your own?'
'Yes', she replied, blowing smoke in the air as she looked in his eyes.
'Meeting someone?'
'Who knows?'
She had thought how such an exchange might go and had made her mind up that, without being totally blatant, she would make it clear from the outset what she wanted.
He smiled and sucked on his cigarette.
'You wouldn't be on the game, would you?'
She felt herself blush, and was amazed at her own reply.
'Well, a girl has to live.'
He laughed and his response was almost quicker than she anticipated.
'How much?'
Now what did she say? She hadn't planned on this. To back down now though would make her look stupid and the idea of being paid for sex made her feel even more turned on than she already was.
'Er – £100, for full sex that is.'
'Is that all?' he replied, his eyebrows raised. 'I thought you would cost more than that, looking at you.'
Now she was thinking at 100 miles an hour.
'Well, let's say, in certain circumstances, I apply a discretionary discount.'
'Circumstances? Like what?'
'Like if I fancy the client., or if he offers me a cigarette.'
He laughed.
'My car is outside,' he said.
'The money first, please,' she replied, staggered at the way she was handling this.
'I would prefer to pay you in the car, rather than here where others might see.'
'OK, let me finish my drink'.
They both downed the remains of their drinks. She stubbed out the cigarette with her foot, twisting her leg as she did so in a way that she knew made guys look at her.
'After you,' he said and followed her through the bar to the front of the building.
'That's mine, over there,' he said, pointing out a Porsche Carrera.
She smiled at him.
'Nice', she said, 'but not big enough – for me to work, that is.'
