Woring Girl

My heart rate is elevated.

I feel my palms sweaty, my nerves rarely control me, so I know they won't get the better of me, but I mentally question once again what I'm doing here this evening as my finger reaches and loosens the dark red neck tie that feels as though it strangles my throat.

"Room Seven," he reconfirms for me, pointing a chubby finger coated in grease, from the unattractive looking Doner Kebab sat in an open polystyrene box that sits on the reception desk between him and I.

I nod my understanding, my throat dry, to the extent that I find it difficult to swallow.

Turning on my heels I walk away from the reception desk, casting my eye around the reception area that looks in desperate need of a refurbishment, just like the dated facade to the outside of the Highview Bed and Breakfast. I could hardly imagine the state of the Bed, although I was about to discover, let alone what would constitute a Breakfast at such an establishment.

The first step on to the threadbare carpeted staircase causes a heavy creaks under my foot, a sound replicated as I press on, ascending the creaking staircase to the first floor landing. Looking left and then right I find my bearings and head along a dim narrow corridor featuring odd room numbers only. Two doors along I reach room number seven, indicated by the brass number screwed onto a grubby looking door yellowing with age that was last painted white a very long time ago.

Pausing I take a deep breath, rubbing sweaty palms across my dark grey suit trousers. Extending my right hand I take another dry swallow, the sudden urge to turn to walk away overwhelms me, momentarily.

My knuckle gently wrap the hotel room door.

Over the sound of my own nervous breath I hear footsteps the opposite side of the door, unseen heels that strike the floor with purpose. Portraying an intent I'm not sure I match.

The door to room seven slips open. Looking back along the corridor checking I'm not observed as much as I am eying the quickest route to step away from this situation.

I step forward though, my intrigue outweighs my doubt and in that moment I commit. I cross the physical and metaphoric threshold on my doubt with one confident step.

Looking to my left as she stands there behind the door, her eyes cast over me just as mine cast over her.

Her dusky toned features are not overly made up, but she smiles from behind lips the colour of black cherries, her face framed by shoulder length dark black hair with lighter dark blonde steaks, her profile picture does do her justice is my first thought.

As she closes the door behind us I take a step back in order to take her in fully.

Belted at the waist a short black silk gown sits over a dark red, lace effect bra. The gown, tied with a matching black silk belt, barely falls below her waist to reveal the tops of light denier hold stockings which sit under black leather thigh high boots.

"John I presume," she offers on a soft accent.

I don't recognise the name at first, given the false pretence I'd used in my own profile for the agency I had recently joined.

"Uh... Yeah..." I offer as my right hand immediately slips into the inside pocket of my jacket to retrieve the manila envelope of cash containing six twenty-pound notes, withdrawn from a cash machine barely fifteen minutes earlier. "...Ayesha, right?

"Yes," she smiles sweetly there's a sterile falseness to our conversation already, both of us acutely aware why we stand before one another in the shabby confines of room seven of the Highview.

"Thank you," she offers further as she takes the envelope from me with slender fingers, the nails of which are painted gloss black. Turning she steps away and checking the contents places the envelope in a travel bag sat next to a dressing table.

"So we've an hour... would you like to sit and chat a little... or?" she offers with a sweet smile as she steps back towards me, her head turning towards the double bed my eye-line follows hers, a twist of guilt in my stomach considering the sordid nature of the adultery I'm about to commit.

*********

A single tear traces down her left cheek.

Dark eyeliner scratching a jagged line in the wake of the tear drop across her pretty face.

"I... I don't understand" she offers on a shaky tone.

Reaching for the box of tissues sat upon my desk, I take a breath and pull two quilted tissues from the box and offer them to her. Marie Hoxton.

Marie had joined my team exactly six months ago to the day, starting a new job at the turn of a new year. She had been pleasant, polite, punctual and shown great endeavour and willing over the last six months. Unfortunately, in comparison to the two colleague who'd started at the same time as her Marie had shown absolutely no talent for closing and winning business, the core function of her job as Business Development Manager.

"C'mon Marie we've talked about this during for monthly performance reviews Charlie and Danielle have managed to close five deals between them since their induction.... You've..." my eyes glance to the CRM Pipeline on my screen, "...well there's only even one opportunity with over seventy five percent confidence of completion."

"Yeah but..." Marie stifles an encroaching sob as she pads her left eye with the tissues, "The Waterhouse deal is worth ten times as much as those five accounts combined."

"That's as maybe Marie but you've concentrated on something that every other broker we know of has targeted and quoted for... there's no assurance... we survive on sales revenue not promises."

"I've... I've built good relationships," Marie feebly justifies.

The conversation was not an easy one to have. Time and effort had been invested in the young graduate her potential had been apparent, sadly that potential showed no signs of being fulfilled. The decision was out of my hands, she'd failed the set criteria of her probationary terms and was being let go. There was nothing she could do, and equally very little I could do, to alter the policy ensconced with the terms she had signed up to on commencing employment.

I'd been there myself, not so long ago, made redundant on a whim with no prior warning. I felt no pride in bringing her world crashing down around her first thing on a Monday morning.

"Is... is there anything that..." Marie offered as she rose and crossed the office.

"I'm sorry..." I cut across her, "...I understand if you want to take some time today."

Marie doesn't respond I notice the quiver of her lip once more as she shakes her head before making her way, head bowed, back through the open plan office towards the desk sat in a cluster with the rest of her team. No one else seems to pay her any attention.

Seven hours later as I idly close my laptop whilst sat at my desk I'm heavily distracted as I scroll through the increasingly familiar list of girls who's profiles meet my search parameters, none of them, least not those I haven't already met to benefit from their services meet my specific tastes. The sordid nature of the escort services provided no longer such a moral dilemma for me three months after my first dalliance, even as I glance to the framed picture sat on the corner of my desk. I attempt to login once again to my account profile only for the onscreen message to pop up, indicating my account is suspended. Confused I try once more, my fourth attempt.

"Jason?" Despite her soft tone Marie catches me unawares as she stands in the open doorway of my office.

Startled I glance up to her, closing my phone down far too quickly, far too guiltily.

"I'm... I'm sorry," she immediately and demurely offers at my reaction.

"Caught me off guard that's all..." I respond confidently, "...what can I do for you?"

"I just... just wanted you to know that I've been on the phone all afternoon with Michael and Celine from Waterhouse... they could have a decision by Friday." Marie offers and I can't help but note the hint of anticipation in her voice.

Equally I can't help but notice the svelte shape of her body as she stands there, sunlight behind her which causes the silhouette of her slim torso to become visible through the largely unflattering shapeless cream blouse she wears with a light grey pencil skirt that meets her knees, along with practical little flat black shoes.

I avert my gaze as I answer her.

"Please don't get your hopes up..." I offer, sympathetically as opposed to showing annoyance at her belligerence, "...if there's anything I can do to help you... look let's just see what transpires shall we."

My eyes shift back over her toned body, as I meet and return the hopeful little smile that creeps across her thin lips.

**********

The venue was heaving.

Squeezing through a crowd of noisy revellers I make my way towards the bar wondering if O'Leary's, the what I had assumed to be a quiet nondescript run of the mill Irish Bar was always so busy for a Thursday evening.

As I approach the bar I hardly recognise her. She only stands out by the outfit she wears. The outfit I had picked out for her.

Stepping up behind her, her long dark blonde hair spills over her exposed shoulders. I watch her for the briefest of moments as she stands there against the bar and the muscular bar man, with short, shaved hair and an equally as short styled beard fills a shot glass with tequila for her. His eye catches mine as I observe the innocuous scene. His attention turning back to her as she raises the tiny glass in her hand and swiftly consumes the potent clear liquid.

"Fill you up?" he offers and there's an undertone in his voice, his enquiry is met with a subtle nod from her head as she sets the glass back down before him.

"Marie," I offer reaching out and placing my right hand on her left shoulder gently. Feeling her tense as my fingers gently clench her shoulder, she turns abruptly to look at me, her eyes offering how startled she genuinely is.

For the briefest of moments, I barely recognise her, I question if I have approached the right girl. Heavier darker smoky make-up frames and accentuates her blue eyes, dark shadows contour her cheeks and her lipstick is as bright a shade of red as I could imagine. I'd requested her to look like this but now I see it her physical appearance blows me away

"Oh Hi," she offers on a slightly slurred tone even from the short sharp response she offers to me.

Over her shoulder I watch the barman pour a fresh shot, he doesn't acknowledge my needs as he steps away serving someone further along the bar.

Casting my eyes down Marie's physique I can barely hide my pleasure, the outfit chosen online that I had had delivered to her desk, a simple instruction inside the box on a gift note reading; 'This. Only this." Marie had so far diligently followed every instruction; just had she had listened to every word and every detail outlined to her in the three days prior to this liaison.

Her body squeezed into the tight strapless black dress that holds her ample breasts up revealing a cleavage I could barely have imagined, the dress tucks in at her slender waist accentuating the natural curve of her hips. The random online purchase from the 'fast fashion' outlet could not have fitted her better. The hem of the skirt sits high on her thighs to reveal enough fishnet material between her skirt and the top of the red shiny effect faux leather thigh-high boots that hold her taller than I've known and accentuate her posture.

"You look good," I offer sincerely.

"I feel cheap," she offers a genuine response, immediately looking up at me reticent as despite the height her boot clad heels offer me I stand over her.

"Can I get you a drink?" I offer ignoring her barely restrained sentiment.

"My bartender Danny has been keeping well oiled," once again I note the slur to her words. I cannot help but wonder how long she's been at the bar prior to my arrival or how many shots the barman has plied her with.

In the same breath she reaches her long slender arm for the shot I'd seen him pour, I figure that her agreement, her consent, requires a courage and conviction that only alcohol can provide her.

I watch her face screw as she sinks back the shot, swallowing viciously, shaking her head a little as she slams the empty shot glass to the hard surface of the bar.

"So do you want to..." I start to offer.

"If it's all the same with you I'd rather we just got on with this."

Maria walks past me heading for the door I'd barely walked in five minutes previously.

As she passes through the crowd my eye falls over the backs of her legs in the hideously short dress and the accompanying fishnets and boots.

Watching other male heads turn and admire I can only smirk.

**********

Closing the door to room seven I cast my eye around the now familiar looking room.

Stepping over to the large bay windows I spot, as I draw the curtains, an older model Silver Mercedes C Class pulling away from the car park into the twilight. The night fully encroaches on the sky with only a sliver of sunset barely visible on the horizon.

Letting go of the freshly drawn curtains, the room illuminated by the light from two flickering lamps on the bedside tables, I look to her, Marie, dressed appropriately for the circumstances. An outfit that might be considered inappropriate in the eyes of many.

Personally I try not to stare in a similar manner to how I'd just witnessed the leer of undisguised lust across the face of Frank the ever presents presence on the front desk as his eyes had cast over her body whilst we'd checked in. I had seen the way people had looked at her in the street as we walked side by side, together yet apart.

Her confidence had wavered only once up until now on arrival at my car in the open-air Car Park alongside of the Canal situated a short walk from the Irish Bar in which I'd publicly met her.

Powering down my mobile to keep me from any distractions I set it on the dressing table. My own ruse for my absence tonight sold on the story that I would not be returning home tonight due, supposedly, to my attending a charity dinner in the City. The tuxedo hung in the back of my car testimony to my level of detail.

My eyes glance over Marie as she stands barely inside the closed door casting her eye around the dishevelled looking room. I could have taken her to any venue within the City or within travelling distance. As I step towards her I look back over her until recently unappreciated body squeezed into the short tight black dress that had ridden up to leave little to the imagination as she'd sat in the passenger seat of my 3 Series BMW on the drive from the City to here.

This room felt right it felt fitting, for what she was hopefully about to do, or what I was about to do with her. At forty five pounds for the night I was saving myself a considerable fortune compared to the usual outlay to meet the girl of my choice at the same location for an hour.

Standing now over her once more, I look down into her wide eyes, noting the tears welling in the corner of them.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," she shakily offers.

"You've come this far..." I brush her hair back from her face, "...you have my word."

"You promise?" Marie asks there's an innocence to her face despite her heavily made-up visage.

"I will fight for you... for your job."

She nods gently in agreement, my manipulation of her increasingly fragile state across the last four days has been meticulous, drawing her in on the premise of nothing more than my suggestion of how I can look to preserve her employment status in exchange for her surrender to fulfil a desire that's burned within me for only a matter of days.

Desire that's become unshakable, a desire I've been unable to quell via the agency. The frustration at the lack of response to my messages regarding my unexplained blocked account was infuriating. Marie had complied with my suggestion which had become requests, her unwitting agreement to become a replacement for the kind of girl I'd usually look to meet at this seedy location. As she lowers her head before me, she knows what I expect of her. Why I have brought her here. I have not specifically stated but tonight she is aware she will be expected to surrender as my personal little whore.

Taking her right hand in mine I lead her towards the bed, taking her clutch bag I throw it to the bedside table next to my phone as I lead her steadily down the right-hand side of the bed, the heels of her boots echoing throughout the room behind me.

Turning back to her I reach my left hand for a white pillow from the bed, I see little need for formality to draw out proceedings now that we are here as I drop the pillow to my feet.

"Tie your hair back," I request looking into her eyes.

Marie obliges without question, scraping her long hair up and back before tying it back with a thin black hairband that had sat around her wrist next to a little silver bracelet.

Her appearance changes once more as I take a breath of anticipation.

"On your knees for me please."

Catching the brief look of reticence as she glances briefly away then back towards me, I don't press further I simply wait for how she will react. Relieved when moments later she drops slowly to her knees before me. I hear the faux leather of her boots creaking around her bent knees.

I am hard for her already as I lower the zipper of my fly and pull my dick slowly through my jeans in line with her face as she looks up at me with a submissive look that is in stark contrast yet somehow complimented by the harsh appearance her make up brings to her face.

Offering her no words, just as I'd offer an Escort no words in such obvious circumstance.

Closing my eyes as I feel her delicate fingers wrap gently around my length, she takes a prolonged deep breath which she lets go off on a shudder of breath, but already her hand works with a tenacity back and forth along my shaft.

Groaning my own head tilts back as moments later I feel the warmth of her obliging mouth slip over me, as she kneels there her lips gently slip back and forth and I feel her hands press slowly up the backs of my thighs.

Letting Marie control I let her tongue wrap around me and accept her gentle caress, as I slip my right hand across the back of her head below the long ponytail that sits across the back of her scalp I offer only gentle persuasion which she duly complies with. With my guidance she speeds her style, I take her deeper I bring her face towards me, she offers a little verbal protest which I ignore as moments later I start to gently thrust my hips to meet the steady motion of her head as she bobs back and forward.

Offering her no reprieve, even as I start to press deeper. Marie doesn't react again as I use her now. As I start to assume control but she obliges she accepts, dropping back on her haunches as I grip her head now between both my hands. Feeling her splayed fingers tighten along the backs of my thighs, she elicits another groan from me as I breathless state her name.

Marie carries on unabated; I hear the wet sounds as she swallows down her own saliva sucking hard around my length as she kneels before me in the sordid squalor of the cheap hotel room. Minutes later her style not diminishing I feel her goad my reaction, her talented little mouth keeping a pace even as I press deeper and harder as I seek my climax.

I hear her muffled little noises as she loses control her fingers digging deep into the backs of my thighs through my jeans but she does not attempt to break my grip, she obliges. Holding her, with her face pressed against my crotch I begin to fuck her mouth, taking her harshly, taking her at pace. I finally feel her try to pull away on the choking little sounds that come from her mouth between rapid thrusts.

Feeling the tap of her right fingers against the back of my left thigh I pay her no attention, her mouth has me so close as I thrust my hips. Despite her reaction Marie keeps her lips firmly locked over my dick as I mercilessly slip back and forth.