Escort 4

Story Code: M/F, Incest, Father/Daughter

*****

Oh my God, they are at it again, mum and dad in a full blown argument yet again, and what is it all about this time, all my dad did was to ask mum to go with him to his company's annual dinner and dance again, just as she had been doing since...well, forever. For as long as I can remember at least. Thankfully I'd pass through one of the many passages to adulthood in just two weeks time, leaving home to go to University at last but before that. In just two days, I'd pass my nineteenth birthday. Unfortunately, I wouldn't get away from home before that damned dinner and dance. My parents still had five more days of arguing about the diner and dance left.

I had no doubt that the argument would last the course, all the way to the party, probably two days after as well. In the last week they have had a four day row about the conservatory roof, it needed cleaning and my dad was refusing to go up on the ladder at his age. I had a four hour amnesty and then there was a twelve hour long fight over shopping and another day, arguing about oil dripping from my dad's car onto the drive. So in the last seven days I'd had about twelve hours of peace and quiet.

I was just pulling my coat on, I was going to visit my friend Kelly, we were both going to the same college in a few weeks time, the same college but to do different courses, it did mean that we could share a room and cut our costs down a little. My mother threw yet another barrage of abuse at my father when I walked through the room.

"Why don't you take Sarah with you, see how she likes sitting in your draughty works canteen listening to a load of boring old men talking about work, let her see just what I have to put up with."

I held up my hands to act as a shield to deflect the negative energy in the room and to push anyone trying to stop me out of the way.

I stopped with Kelly until she finally complained that she just had to go to sleep and then I went home.

I spotted the light was on in the 'Huffy bedroom', a northern expression for the bed that a husband or wife...usually husband...went to sleep after an argument, I expected to find my father in that bed tonight...again!

I crept through the house so as not to let either of my parents hear me so that I didn't fan the embers of their new found hatred for each other.

I wanted to sleep late, school had finished and I was out until late at Kelly's house, I'd planned on stopping in bed until lunch at the very least but the storm clouds from yesterday rolled in at eight o'clock, slamming doors, kicking up banshees of dust and sounds that were akin to the skirl of bagpipes on steroids. At ten minutes past eight I gave in and slopped down stairs to get my breakfast, I'd eat fast and get out of the house as quickly as possible.

Mother slammed the kitchen door, she had her coat on, she was going out...damned it, if I'd have held my nerve for just a few more minutes the house would have gone back to sleep and so could I.

Page 1

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My dad was in the kitchen cooking his own breakfast, he added pork products to the pan for me as well and I started to cook coffee for both of us. Dad kept looking at me, I know that I'd been told a hundred times not to walk around the house wearing just my nighty, "It only takes a moment to put your dressing gown on Sarah!" (Spoken in my head in my comic imitation of my mother's voice.)

"Sarah, I would really like to go to my firm's annual dinner dance this year, you don't have anything better to do so I'd really like you to accompany me, if I don't have a woman on my arm I won't be able to go."

"Dad, I don't want to spend one of my last evenings at home in your draughty works canteen listening to a bunch of boring old men talking about sprocket pins and pinion wheels!"

"You think I'm boring?"

"Not you daddy dear, you're the most human person that works at your factory, about the youngest and most alive too!"

"Anyway, this year it isn't being held at the works canteen, well, the blue collar workers do is but since my promotion, I'm invited to the management function, more dressy and being held at the Grand Hotel."

"Grand Hotel? No one told me you were going to a place that's a solid ten on the 'Swank-O-meter'! I wouldn't have anything that I could wear to the Grand Hotel."

"No, I've had to buy a dinner jacket, flowery shirt and bow tie, when I showed your mother what I wanted to buy her she went mad."

"Why?"

"She said that she'd look like a tart, most wives are happy when their husband's get promotion, happy to get dressed up and show off their husband's new position at work."

I shook my head, "Not mum, she's down to earth, she'd be uncomfortable having to dress up too much...so, what did you ask mum to wear?"

"I've taken it back to the shop, I wasn't going to waste four hundred pounds on a dress that she'd never wear."

"Didn't she try it on when you bought it?"

"I took one of her old dresses into the shop and the assistant said that the new dress was exactly the same size as her old dress."

"Well, if this year's do is at the Grand Hotel and I can get a posh frock out of it I'll come with you."

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After breakfast I went with my father to the dress shop, they still had the dress he'd returned and I tried it on in the changing room, the dress fitted me like a glove, I had to take my bra off to fit into the dress the way the dress was designed to be worn. I stepped out into the shop and did a twirl for my father and the top of his head almost fell off because his smile was so broad.

"Erm, dad, did mum try this dress on before she exploded all over you?"

"No, she wouldn't even try it on, she just went mad and threw the dress in my face."

"Where did you get the dress from that you brought here for the size?"

"In her wardrobe. I chose a dress that I loved, your mother wore it to a wedding and she looked stunning."

"But dad, this dress is tight on me and I'm two sizes smaller than mum. How long ago was the wedding?"

"A while I guess...but if the dress didn't fit her any more, why is it in her wardrobe?"

"Dad, you're really going to have to learn a little about women, I'm not going to be here in two weeks time to act as referee between you guys. Mum's been on a diet all year, she's probably using the old dress in her wardrobe as her target, trying to lose enough weight to fit into a dress that you particularly liked. I love this dress by the way, you can treat it as my birthday present if you like, save you running out today to buy me one for my birthday tomorrow."

I reluctantly took the new dress off, if there had been more time between my birthday and my father's function, I'd have worn the dress at my birthday party and had it dry cleaned in time for the function. I changed back into my loose fitting sweats, clothing of choice when not in school.

I had fun at my birthday party the next day, the gift my father had bought me for my birthday was a necklace...well, more a choker than a necklace really, it was costume jewellery but it looked like one hundred diamonds in five strings close together and, unlike my mother's dress, the choker fitted around my neck perfectly. I'd been to twenty of my friend's nineteenth birthday parties in recent months and the common themes were getting drunk as quickly as possible and having no memory of what happened the following day.

I deliberately opted for no alcohol at all at my party, I concentrated on good food and great entertainment. A few of my guests got drunk...but then they'd get drunk just because there was a 'Y' in the day but I was totally sober and could remember every moment of my party the next day.

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When my father's first formal function at work came around I called on Kelly, she came to my house with a belt sander, a hawk and trowel as well as a gallon of industrial emulsion paint...or that's what it looked like to me. I'd showered and she made me sit in just my knickers in my bedroom. She didn't cut any of my long hair off, she plastered it with starch and gradually lifted it up, layering strands on top of strands. It looked more like she was building a wicker basket than making a hairstyle, the last few strands of hair pushed down from the top and pulled through and the style compressed into shape and looked fantastic. It was a twenty first century adaptation of a beehive hairstyle only I think mine had real bees in it as well as a jar of honey!

It was time to apply makeup, Kelly started by fondling my breasts and plastering them with foundation, "What the hell Kelly, I don't need makeup on my tits, no one's going to..."

Kelly pressed her index finger against my lips to stop me complaining, "Sarah darling, you don't get out much, trust me, wearing that dress..." She pointed at the little black cocktail dress hanging on the back of my bedroom door. "...trust me darling, in that dress, I needn't bother with your lipstick or eye shadow because none of the men will be looking at your face, even your dad will be looking at your tits all night!"

Now I was far less confident than I'd started out the day, "Kelly, why don't you take my place with my dad at the dance tonight?"

"Sarah darling, I'd gladly go with him in that dress but you'd have to donate two kilos of your breast mass at least for my tits to hold that dress up!"

I got very bored during the next ninety minutes as my face, neck and cleavage were filled, rubbed down, given three undercoats and a top coat before the gloss was applied. A long process but when I put my new cocktail dress on..."WOW!...you'd better be on your guard on the drive home, he may be your dad but after sitting next to you all night long and dancing with you he'll be all over you on the drive home!"

"Kelly, you're a dirty cow, he's my dad..." Kelly stopped me in my tracks.

"He's a man and you're drop dead gorgeous, I may have to hang around with your mum and rape you later myself."

"You really worry me at times Kelly, have I made a mistake in agreeing to share with you at Cambridge?"

My dad gasped as I walked in the living room, he looked like a slightly older James Bond in his dinner jacket and bow tie.

My father offered me his arm so that I could be escorted to his car like a lady, Kelly was whooping and fist pumping behind us, drawing the attention of the whole street to me, I would have to kill her...but not now, I might chip my nails.

The Grand Hotel had valet parking, it was very difficult for my father to hand over his car keys to a stranger but he took one look over at me and threw his keys in the air for the valet to catch and once again, his arm was offered so that I could take it and walk, escorted like a lady, into the hotel foyer.

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I'd been to a few of my father's works do's, they were usually all cloth caps and whippets, naff disco music, curly sandwiches, noggins of pork pie and wedges of cheese. Less than one percent of the people attending ever danced and the evening was usually just an excuse to get drunk on cheap beer and moan about the management.

There were just twenty men at the formal function rather than six hundred men at the usual company do. I looked around the bar as we walked in to have an aperitif before dinner, I had to whisper to my father, "Did everyone bring their daughters to the function instead of their wives?"

I saw my dad blush and then he leaned in so that his lips were brushing against my ear, "My boss, Tom Danvers, he's brought his daughter, she's two years older than you and Ben Bradford, that's his daughter with him but I think the rest have paid an escort agency to provide their dates for tonight."

"You mean pro..."

My father stopped me in my tracks with a sharp 'Shushhhhh!'

"Just young ladies that get paid to go on dates with rich men to parties and functions, the men are too busy to go looking around for dates."

I was introduced to Tom Danvers, he was the director in charge of Whippet strangling or something, the big difference between blue collar workers and white I suppose was that Tom was more interested in me than in boasting about his job or what he did, I shook hands with Anna his daughter, she was just about to go into her final year at university, she was reading politics at Nottingham University.

Tom was very impressed when I told him that I was about to start at Murray Edwards College in Cambridge to study applied and theoretical mathematics.

My father guided me around the other men, the finance director and his 'escort', the production director and his 'escort' as well as their under managers and they all had female 'escorts' on their arms.

When the CEO turned up there was a crush of minions rushing around him, all the girls were left just standing around like lemons for five minutes while the CEO's ego was stroked, I sidled up to Chardonnay and asked her if was true that she was a paid escort.

"I am, I work for a local agency, I only take on one job a week, four hundred pounds in my pocket, so I can still study all week and I'm not tired out by having to work twenty-five hours to get three hundred quid."

I talked to four other girls, some were a little cagy about what they did or what they earned but all five girls that I spoke to told me that it was definitely better paid work for university girls than bar work or stacking shelves at Tesco's and I was even given a card to contact the agency that most of the girls in the room worked for when I got to Cambridge.

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The meal was definitely a cut above what I'd seen from the company before, five courses, all silver service and a different wine for every course. After dinner we moved from the dining room and into a private function room where a quintet was playing proper ballroom dancing music. The escorts all seemed to know the basic steps to the different types of dance, the first was a waltz, the three 'Non-professional' girls amongst us all seemed to know the basic steps for the waltz.

Another difference between the two kinds of function, the blue collar workers pleased themselves if they wanted to dance or not and who with, at the end of the waltz, which we'd all danced with our own partners, everyone was given a printed card that detailed who would dance with whom, the idea was that by the end of the evening, every man would have had the opportunity to dance with every woman.

When I had my dance with Tom Danvers, he confided in me that the reason his wife stopped coming to these functions with him was because the CEO and the Managing Director both had wandering hand trouble. My head immediately snapped in the direction of the CEO, he was dancing with Tom's daughter and I could see that he was pawing her, his hands all over her body through her clothes. Tom was deliberately keeping his back to his daughter and his boss so he couldn't see what was going on.

I did a quick check on the dance card, my next dance was with the CEO, I wondered how my father would react if he saw his big boss pawing all over me.

"My Foxtrot I believe Sarah!"

"Oh hi sir, I don't actually know how to dance the foxtrot so I'll have to warn you now that you'll end up with black and blue toes."

"Oh dear, that doesn't sound too good...well, I could either try and teach you the foxtrot or we could sit this dance out, take a walk around the garden or something."

I linked my arm in his and let him guide me out into the grounds; my father looked on nervously as I was steered through the French windows. I winked at him and gave him a warm smile and then I was gone.

We walked to one of four rose arbours, he gestured to the seat set in the arch of sweet scented roses. He took his time building up to what he wanted, my bottom hit the seat and his lips hit mine ten seconds later, two more seconds and his hand was down the front of my dress fondling my tits.

I had to put up with his mauling for ten minutes. Actually I didn't mind at all, if I'd been out with my usual Friday evening group I'd have to put up with the same or worse from my friends.

I had to shake my tits back down into my dress before he could guide me back to the function room. I noticed that the CEO had arranged to dance with the daughters of his subordinates first, before moving on to the long list of professionals.

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I really had a great time dancing with all of the big-wigs from my father's company. I had six business cards, six requests to ring them any time I was at a loose end, even if I was in Cambridge, if they couldn't meet me themselves, they would have a friend who lived nearby who would be looking for a date for an evening.

The last dance was again a waltz and again, we were all with our partners, my dad had a sad look on his face, "I shouldn't have asked you to come tonight, I was told that I could claim back half the expense of an escort for the evening, it would have saved you being pawed over by my bosses..."

His voice trailed off as he looked away from me.

"What was that last bit dad?"

"Nothing."

"Don't start lying to me at my age dad!"

"Sorry, it was a highly inappropriate comment that doesn't bear repeating."

"Come on dad, fess up...you said something, now tell me what it was."

His face turned really red and he took more than two minutes to start speaking, "I just said, it would have spared you being mauled and if I'd paid a professional escort for the evening, I might have gotten a happy ending to the evening instead of your mother's cold shoulder."

There was lots of kissing at the end of the function, girls kissing men, partners as well as other men. I kissed seventeen out of the twenty men there and then I took my father's arm and we walked out into the darkness.

"Dad, I'm going to look into this escort lark, I'll need a job in Cambridge, I can either work hard for a stupid number of hours in a shop or a bar or have a few nice hours with a man and earn enough to live all week."

"You can't do that, it's just glorified pro..."

My turn to put my finger on my father's lips to stop him talking, "They're just young ladies that get paid to go on dates with rich men to parties and functions!"

In the darkness I felt my father's shoulders relax, "Well Mr Clark, thank you for a lovely evening and I'm now officially off the clock and my time is my own...I was just wondering...would you like a happy ending to the evening before dropping me off at home?"

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I felt my father stiffen again, I'd shocked him. I pulled him a little further into the darkened car park, pulled him to his car and instead of climbing into the front passenger seat I opened the back door and pulled him into the back of his own car.

I kissed my father passionately and as my tongue slipped into his mouth I rubbed my hand over the front of his trousers. "How long has it been since you last had sex Mr Clarke?"

He whispered, "Two bloody...long...years!"

I eased his zip down and pulled his cock out of his trousers, "Wow Mr Clark, I've heard of a ten gallon hat before but not ten gallon balls. I can give you hand relief for fifteen pounds, Oral sex for thirty pounds or you can have full sex with a condom for fifty pounds."

He gasped, there was a tremble in his voice as he whispered, "I'd love full...I do have the money but unfortunately not the condom."

"Good thing my roommate Kelly made me bring some condoms with me on our date...just in case we hit it off with each other."