Author's note
All characters in this story are over 18. The fictional university college at the centre of the plot takes students aged 18-21, which is normal for the UK education system.
Wild cherries
Chapter 1 - The arrival of spring
'I want to do to you what spring does to the cherry trees...'
There was a knock at the door. He closed the poetry book he'd been reading and crossed his hotel room to open it.
The young woman who stood the other side of the door looked stunning; her black shoulder-length hair contrasting with a figure-hugging, strapless one-piece red evening dress, nicely cut to reveal just enough cleavage to draw the eye. Her face was pretty and she looked up at him with dark, slightly-questioning eyes. She held a small black purse in both hands.
'Come in,' he smiled and stood back to make room. 'My name's Charles. You must be Sara. You look absolutely fantastic.'
He held out his hand. She took it and shook it briefly as she entered the room, looking nervous despite her assured dress. He let the door close behind her and followed her into the room, admiring the way her hair made a soft wave at the top of her back; his eyes following the pleasing lines of her dress.
'There's an envelope with your fee on the table. Please have a seat.' He motioned to one of the pair of armchairs which bracketed the small coffee table. 'Can I get you a drink?'
She picked up the money and looked back at him hesitantly.
'A glass of water, maybe?' he clarified, and her expression relaxed.
'Yes, please, that would be nice.' Her voice was quiet, and her eyes dropped as she lowered herself into the armchair and focused on the purse and envelope, now in her lap.
Charles disappeared into the bathroom, and when he returned with a glass of water in each hand, Sara had picked up the volume of poetry and was leafing through it.
'You read Neruda?' she asked, taking the water and looking at him quizzically as he sat down to face her.
He looked back at her in silence briefly - a faint sense of recognition crossing his mind: had he seen her face somewhere before, quite recently?
'Indeed I do,' he smiled and looked back at her intently - '..
I cast my sad nets towards the oceans of your eyes
..'
She blushed and looked away. He let the silence linger, and sipped at his own glass.
'And you are quite new to this, aren't you?'
She looked up and at him. His eyes were still on hers, but she said nothing. He tried a different tack.
'So how do you know Neruda?'
'I'm studying languages at college, and we worked on him last year.'
She looked away, and he could feel tension in her voice now - she wanted her uncertainty as to how he would take what he'd paid for resolved - but this was beginning to be interesting; he now had an idea where he might have seen her face before.
'I didn't know there was a college near here?'
This was untrue. He'd actually come to this hotel in the middle of Wales on business, to look at a potential investment in a very exclusive and private ladies' university college deep in the hills. It ran programmes for university-aged children of rich families who didn't want their daughters exposed to the temptations of the big cities or the freedoms of university life. The college was struggling financially; Charles specialised in turnaround investments, and detailed research was how he succeeded. Sara was suddenly a potential source of information, as well as an impending source of pleasure. He suspected he'd seen her photo in one of the brochures.
'Can we get on with it?' She looked directly at him and moved her purse onto the table as if to stand up.
'We'll start when I decide.' His response was immediate and firm, but his eyes were sparkling.
Charles took another sip of his water and moved his gaze very deliberately and slowly down her body, shifting from her face to dwell on the invitingly soft flesh and disappearing cleft of her cleavage. The top of her dress pressed into and between her young breasts, suggesting both firmness and give, and the taut hem of the skirt emphasised the curves of her hips and thighs. She held her legs closely together as she sat, angled from the knees. He imagined parting them to see what lay under the skirt, and smiled.
'Tell me a bit more about your college first. I find these sessions much more enjoyable for both of us when we know a little about each other. I'm even happy to tell you a bit about myself if you like; for example, I work in finance, and I write poetry as well as read it.'
Sara sank back in the armchair and sighed. Her legs relaxed a little, he noted with pleasure, and he glimpsed a little more of her inner thighs. His eyes returned to meet hers.
'There's not a lot to say. It's an ancient college in an old abbey just up the road. Not many people have heard of it; our parents send us because they're scared of us going off the rails if we go to normal universities, so we go off the rails big time here instead. This escort agency is one of our little ventures on the side.'
'That's interesting. Do you enjoy it?'
'No. Can we start now?'
'Patience is a virtue and I'm enjoying the anticipation. You are very beautiful.' He smiled again, 'do you mean you don't enjoy the college, or you don't enjoy the escorting, or both?'