Part I - Prelude
"Bing! Bong!"
The doorbell jolted me out of my Sudoku puzzle trance. I quickly tightened my robe around me as I made my way to the front door. I was expecting a caller, but it was a little earlier than we had agreed - about 25 minutes early.
I opened the door to the smiling face of what looked at first glance to be a teenager about 5 foot nothing, short blond hair, nice shapely body under a sweater and t-shirt combo with a short, tight black skirt, black fishnet panty hose, 3 inch spike heels and a poorly painted face.
I recognized her about the same time she recognized me. I knew her as a waitress from the small Chinese restaurant that I frequented on occasion - more often now that my wife had died.
"Hi!" she said brightly, "Mrs. B sent me."
"Uhh..." I stammered as I tried to catch up with the conversation. This girl, whose name was Bobby I recalled, worked in the family oriented restaurant not far away and was a friend of the proprietor's daughter. The daughter had just graduated a year ago from high school and was now going to college and Bobby was taking a year off to earn some money to go to college too.
"Err..." What was confusing was that Mrs. B. was the owner of an escort service that I had called earlier that day.
Bobby's smile slipped a little as she asked, "Can I come in?"
"Um.. yeah, sure.. absolutely... come on in!" I stepped aside and Bobby entered. I closed the door after she had stepped in.
"You seem surprised."
"Um... yeah. Well I wasn't expecting... um... someone I know... and um... so young..." I had said to Mrs. B that I wanted someone young, but young to someone like me at age 57 didn't mean jailbait. I was expecting someone in their late 20's or early 30's.
"I'm 19 and almost 20. That's old enough isn't it?" Bobby said with a concerned look on her face.
"Yeah... well sure... Look, would you like a drink? I would!"
"Sure, what have you got?"
"Just about anything you could want - I am going to have some Scotch."
"Ok, I've never had it before, but I'll try it."
" Are you sure? I have beer, wine, coolers whatever..."
"No, the scotch is fine, thanks."
"Go on in and sit down in the front room. I will get your drink and we can chat a bit."
Bobby put her purse on the table by the door and went to find a chair while I went to the kitchen to get the drinks. It gave me some time to think about the situation.
My call to Mrs. B. had brought up a cute young thing, but so young and I knew her slightly. She was wearing too much make-up and high heels that really didn't suit her, but the tight black skirt and t-shirt outfit showed her bust and hips to good advantage. She certainly was cute with her short blond hair and her little mouth like a small O in middle of her round face. Those lips would be stretched tight around my cock. But so young.
My call to Mrs. B. had been in desperation. My wife had passed away after my early retirement at 55. The funeral had been quick but the change in lifestyle had made me numb and I had stumbled through life trying to find something to latch onto. One day while surfing the net I had come across a list of escort services in the area. Today I had called just to see what it would be like. Along came Bobby.
Mrs. B. had asked some questions about preferences. The only ones I said I was keen on were young and shapely. Someone not too jaded with the profession. Along came young, shapely, naive Bobby.
I took the drinks into the front room. I had poured about an ounce for Bobby and a triple for myself. "Here you go," I said, handing her her drink. "Careful, it's strong. This scotch is quite smooth but you will probably want to sip it slowly."
I took a small sip to follow the larger one I had taken in the kitchen. I watched as Bobby sipped a little of the drink and swallowed it down. Her eyes widened a little but she licked her lips with her pink tongue and commented, "It is strong! But I like the way it sort of burns on the way down."
"So how long have you worked for Mrs. B.?" I asked.
"About two weeks. I have only had two clients. They both wanted blow jobs so it wasn't too hard. I haven't had any other calls though there may be a pool party this weekend."
"What got you into it?"
"Well. I don't make much at the restaurant, though the tips are sometimes good - like when you come in," she smiled at me, "and I have been having sex for about 4 years now and have let a number of boys get in my pants. I have always enjoyed sex and when Mrs. B. approached me I thought why not try it." She sipped her scotch again. "It has been Ok so far though those two guys didn't care about me, they just wanted to get their rocks off."
"So you haven't had much experience in the business."
"Nope, but Mrs. B. gave me a number of pointers and makes me go to a doctor once every month and gives me a week off once a month. She also lets me keep any tips and pays me half of what I get. I guess you said you want me for the whole evening so that will be $300. She said she was giving you a good rate 'cause it is your first time." She paused. "So what do you want me to do?"
"Let's get the money out of the way first. There is an envelope on the table by the door. You can pick it up with your purse. Is there anything that you won't do?"
"Well... Mrs. B says I have to use a condom always even though I am on the pill 'cause of disease and I hate condoms. But I haven't found anything else yet." She took a sip of her drink and looked at me fiercely, "Oh, If I tell you stop something 'cause it hurts, you have to stop."
I smiled. "I think that can be arranged. Now what do you say, before we start, you do two things for me. Get rid of those silly shoes that you can't walk properly in, before you break an ankle. Then go into the bathroom, lose the panty hose and wash your face. That is some of the worst makeup I have ever seen."
Bobby giggled. "Ok. I don't like it either, but Mrs. B says it makes me look older." She bounced out of her chair, nearly falling in the 3 inch high spike heels and headed to the table by the door. There, she removed the shoes, put the envelope in her purse - which was big enough to hold a change of clothes - and padded off down the hall to the bathroom.
I sat back and finished my scotch. Then I took a deep breath and began to wonder what I had got into. Bobby was younger than my daughter.
When Bobby returned she looked much better. Gone was the garish purple lipstick, red rouge and green eyes. She was walking barefoot and seemed to bounce across the floor instead of teeter. "Is this better?"
"You bet!" I smiled at her. "And now, can you dance for me?" I got up and went to turn the lights down and put some slow oldies rock songs on the stereo. I sat again and continued, "Something slow and sexy. Run your hands all over your body..."
Bobby smiled and closed her eyes. She slowly began to sway to the music. Her hands remained at her sides for a moment, then began to play with the hem of her short skirt. Slowly she moved her hands up her sides, pulling her tight skirt up so that I could almost see her panties - if she was wearing any. Then her hands dropped the skirt and moved further up, crossing over each other at her belly button. Then she was hugging herself with her arms pressed tightly against her breasts.
She turned now, so her back was to me. I could see her hands slowly caressing her back and shoulders. One hand came up and caressed the back of her head and her neck, the other went down and caressed her shapely bottom. With a small flourish, she spun around and her hands went back to her belly button. Slowly both hands rose to fondle a breast each. They slid over her top then back down, then cupped, held and presented them to me as she leaned forward a little.
I think I was drooling at this point. I know I was as hard as rock.
One hand continued to fondle a breast while the other slipped up to her face and began to caress her cheeks, her eyes, her hair and ears. One finger extended from her hand and her mouth opened in invitation. The finger went in and came out, moist and wet.
Still she fondled her breast. The moist finger moved down across the other breast and down across her belly button, and under the waist of her skirt. Bobby's hips had never stopped the gentle swaying motion, now her feet moved further apart as her hand disappeared under her skirt. I heard a sudden gasp as she obviously touched herself.
Just then, the song ended and another slow song began. "Take off your sweater," I whispered.
With some reluctance her hand came out of her skirt and fumbled for the hem of her sweater. Her other hand slid down her body to cross over the first and grab the hem on the other side of her waist. Slowly, hips still swaying to the music, she lifted the sweater over her head and off, revealing a tight white t-shirt. Through the t-shirt I could see the outline of a black bra caressing her breasts and barely holding in the nipples that pointed at me.
She tossed the sweater in my direction from high above her head. It landed, warm and soft, in my lap. Her hands slowly came down to straighten her hair and skim over the skin of her face and neck - down to play with her breasts again. One hand dipped lower still, seeking and finding the waist of the skirt. Again I heard a gasp as she touched herself.
"Take off the shirt..."
She looked at me and licked her lips with her pink tongue. Then once again her hands crossed at her waist and she drew the t-shirt up. The clear expanse of her taut young stomach appeared slowly, her belly button, the bottom of her ribcage, her sternum, the bottom of her black lace bra. She paused here, with her elbows locked in the shirt, hands holding the bottom level with her mouth. She looked me in the eye as if to ask if I wanted her to continue. I nodded, unable to speak.
