"That's got to be him" I thought as the man walked past our house one way, crossed the road, came back and passed by walking in the opposite direction. I couldn't tell for certain because his profile hadn't included a face photo. He had said that he was 44 with light hair. I judged him to be older but maybe because his hair was receding a little.
I pulled aside the net curtain and waved, attracting his attention straight away. He smiled in recognition as I motioned him to go around the back of the house. I waked through to my annexe and opened the door to the rear.
Now, I should take the opportunity to introduce myself. I am Sara. I am 19, quite tall, slim, brunette (and my hair is long, down to the bottom of my shoulder blades). I'm cute and I know it! I inherited Mummy's deep brown eyes and cheekbones and Daddy's cheeky smile. Good looks let you get away with lots of things!
I'm presently in my second year at University studying English and up until I left home for student digs I lived with my parents in a lovely, leafy Sussex village, not far from the South Coast of England.
Since then there have been some drastic upheavals. Daddy and Mummy both work as Directors for a very large and profitable company. They are both very good, and both extremely successful. As an only child I've been spoiled rotten. I realize now hat a few of you are wanting to see me taken down a peg or two. I will live with that.
During the last term of my first year at University my parents moved with their jobs. No just down the street either, two hundred and twenty miles North to the furthest edge of North Nottinghamshire (as an aside this rankles me as much as anything. I can't even say we have a country pile in Yorkshire as Yorkshire starts an agonizing mile and a half up the road!)
Which means, as I write, I'm away from all my childhood friends, everyone I know (Mummy and Daddy notwithstanding) and the place I loved and that I called home.
OK Let's not pretend I'm hard done by here. The Spoilt Sara pout still works to an extent. I have my own annexe on Mummy and Daddy's house up here. Self contained with my own bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and lounge/TV room. OK, all but the bathroom is one big room but you get the picture I'm sure. No I haven't got a utility room as I don't intend to be doing any of my own washing, drying or any of that domestic stuff.
However it wasn't all roses on arrival, as I landed on the tarmac of Northern England (yes I flew up from Bournemouth, sod an endless train journey sat next to people with body odour). Daddy wasn't best pleased that I'd managed to spend my student loans, my allowance, maxed out my credit cards and exceeded my overdraft limit.
As a result I faced a bleak Summer in a place I didn't know and already hated, with no allowance ... unless ... I took a job!
Anyway, back to the chap at my door.
Let's call him "C" shall we? I'm not about to reveal his name on here even if it isn't his real one. He was tall. I'm 5'9" and he was taller than me. He stepped inside. "Wow you are tall, should I put some heels on?" I quipped.
"No it's OK I like you as you are, " he replied. That meant barefoot and in a peach, matching vest and shorts outfit with my hair down. He wore jeans, a black t-shirt and sneakers, probably Vans.
I motioned him to sit on the sofa. "First things first," I said, climbing onto the sofa, my knees astride his legs and my hands on his shoulders. I leaned in and kissed him, my mouth open and over his.
He responded when I licked inside his lips with my tongue, letting his tongue find mine as I pursed my lips and snogged his obviously willing mouth. I pulled away after a while and sat up before removing myself from the sofa and onto the bed where I sat, cross legged.
"That was a thank you for my book," I explained. "Would you like a drink? I have coke, water and ...erm.. diet coke I think in my little fridge."
"Any beer?"
"No not here and I don't really want to go raiding my Dad's stash as he's bound to notice."
"I'm OK then, nothing for me"
"The book is for my second year of my course at Uni"
"I guessed from what you said"
"Erm OK that's thanks for that and I'm sure you have an idea of what you want to do, yeah?"
"What do you think I want to do, Sara?"
I laughed, "Let's not play games, be straight with me, OK C?"
He laughed slightly nervously, "OK Sara, I would like to fuck you."
I can hear some of you thinking now that yes, Sara has taken to escorting blah blah blah but no. My idea for a job is a little different. Trading is what adequately describes it.
I got he idea from moping over my wishlist on a well-known shopping site online. I amused myself by adding things that I knew I could never afford, spending not existing wages for a job I would never have.
What got me thinking was the question on the site, "Would you like to make your wishlist public?"
"Damn right, and if anyone wants to buy me anything they can." Then I thought about some of the more, erm ... specialist items on there. Things of a rather sexual nature. Look, I'm a 19 year old girl. I'm not a virgin. I have desires and urges.
Let's be honest I have lots of them. I enjoy sex with a man. At this moment in time here isn't one man who's doing it for me and the chances of meeting one in this hell hole are non existent.
"Click click went the cogs in Sneaky Sara's head. I plunged into the online world of free-to-join contact sites. Some cheeky photos in nice underwear went on my profile along with my vital statistics and this description,
"Hi I'm Sara, a princess locked in a castle in North Notts. Noble Knights aged between 35 and 49 are invited to unlock my chamber and release me through my wishlist. Talk to me for a link and let's see how far you can delve into Sara's kingdom of pleasure."
Cheesy doesn't do it justice I know. The age target was my attempt at sorting out guys who would have the disposable income, and be looking for a no-strings arrangement, not a relationship.
OK, we'll go back to C, who by now was waiting for me to respond.
I stroked my chin, "O-o-okayyyy, that's good because I'd like you to fuck me, C." I paused a few seconds, "but I'd also like to tick some more items off my wishlist."
"I bought you the book!" He replied, sounding a little hurt.
"Look, it's a very nice book, expensive for what it is, but it's a book all the same. One book, which to me says, 'I get to sit on Sara's sofa and watch while Sara gets herself off on the bed,' doesn't it?" I rubbed the front of my shorts to demonstrate.
"So do I get to join in?"
