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The night was unusually quiet for this city. Working as a London escort I often had late nights and was used to walking home alone, but there was something strange about tonight; no groups of drunks stumbling about as usual, no tramps mumbling as I walked past. There was no traffic, and the only sound I could hear was the click of my high heeled shoes on the pavement.
Something about the atmosphere had me on edge; the client I had seen earier was nice but dull – nothing creepy that would have left me feeling unsettled. But now, goosebumps rose on my skin and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I quickened my pace to match my speeding heart beat; only 10 minutes back to my flat.
Keeping my head up I tried to look confident, but then a shadow a few feet ahead startled me. A dark figure emerged from an alley, and I instinctively grasped my bag tighter. I had £200 cash in there – if this guy was a mugger, he was going to have a fight on his hands. Eyes, face, chest, balls. That’s the order I had been taught to punch. Or maybe I should just reach for my rape alarm now…
“I’m sorry ma’am, I didn’t mean to startle you”, a warm deep voice apologised. The man was obviously American, but I still couldn’t make out the features of his face in the shadows. I realised that in fear I had rooted myself to the spot and probably looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights. I quickly composed myself and tried to look the opposite of scared.
“No worries” I told him, and began to walk again with my head held high.
“I’m really sorry to bother you, and I know you probably are wanting to get on your way, but do you know the way to the Dorchester? I’m kinda new around here and think I’m a bit lost.”
I was about to shake my head in response when the man stepped into the light. He was one of the sexiest men I’d ever seen. Smoldering grey eyes with crinkles at the edges, a strong square jaw and a winning smile that was so entrancing that it must seal all his business deals. He wore a long tailored coat over an open necked shirt and pin stripe trousers. This guy wasn’t a tramp or a rapist.
I stopped in my tracks again, and even though I knew the exact route to the Dorchester, I couldn’t make myself speak. I just stared into his eyes, my heart beating fast and the hairs on my neck now raised for a different reason. I registered that my knickers were slightly wet, and my clitoris was practically throbbing for him. Could he hear my breathing quicken? Could he feel the heat coming from my body?
No more words were spoken between us. I took a step towards him and he simultaneously bent his head down to catch me in a kiss. It was fast and furious, pressing our lips together with such force that it was almost painful. He pushed me up against the wall and started to feel inside my coat with eager hands; I moved my hands to his buttocks and yanked his pelvis towards me. His erection strained against his trousers and he groaned with pleasure and impatience. I took his hand to lead him around the corner into the alley, just in case anyone passed.
As soon as we were safely in the shadows, there was a fumble of hands as he fought to pull up my dress and I tried to undo his belt. We stopped momentarily to kiss again, and meanwhile he finished both jobs with his one free hand. He slid his fingers in between my legs to feel how wet I was, and exhaled heavily when the juice covered his finger tip. He rubbed my pussy gently, then pushed his finger up inside. He took a step back so he could look at me and licked the finger that had just been inside me. Taking both of my wrists with his hands, he held them above my head and pinned them to the wall there with just one of his hands. My body was squirming, desperate to have him immediately. My legs were already wide open and my hips tilted towards him. With his free hand he took hold of his cock, rubbed it up and down once then guided it into my pussy. This time it was me who let a groan escape – it felt so good to have him filling me up. He thrusted aggressively into me, hard and fast. We must have only been fucking for two minutes, but I was completely exhausted. My legs were shaking from the combination of muscle strain and desire, my skin was damp from sweat. When he felt me getting close, he let himself come with a stifled roar.
Afterwards, we stood there panting for a minute. Then we both straightened our clothes and hair, buttoning up our coats. We stepped out into the street light together.
“The Dorchester’s that way” I said, pointing down the road. I was very familiar with the place from working as a London escort. He gave me a swift nod and a wink in thanks, and we parted ways.
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