In the days and weeks that followed my initiation into the world of executive prostitution I was fully employed, rarely having a night off, but Kelly, my manager limited all of her girls' activities so that there was time to rest between customers and room to manoeuvre, should the client decide to extend the period of service. My customers up to this point had been almost exclusively middle-aged businessmen who simply wanted a fresh and uncomplicated pussy to cum in, safely away from their wives. And while my bank account grew healthily I continued my studies at university, limiting my working hours to weekends. But on exiting my final lecture one Wednesday afternoon I checked my mobile phone and found a text from Kelly.
"Beth, are you available this evening? Call me either way."
I had a little homework outstanding, but nothing urgent and so I called my manager as I walked. "Hey Kelly, what's up."
"Thanks for getting back to me so quickly Beth, I have a difficult customer. Can you come right over? I'll send a cab."
"Sure, I've just come out of Uni. I'll wait outside the library."
"Perfect. I may not need you, but this client wants to choose a girl from my full portfolio. She wants someone for her husband's birthday and she loves to micro-manage everything. I'll fill you in more fully if you're the one she selects. This woman is a well-known and respected politician and you may recognise her, but it's important that you don't let on."
"Of course." I replied cheerfully.
20 minutes later I skipped up the steps of the Grand Hotel and said 'Hi' to Sam, as I entered the impressive Victorian style lobby. I knocked on the door to Kelly's office and waited until she invited me in.
My face must have been a picture as I looked upon the scene before me. Kelly stood naked by her desk along with five other similarly attired girls, most of whom I knew, while a clothed woman, perhaps in her mid-sixties sat looking far from impressed. The years had not been kind to her and the woman's short salt and pepper hair was as dishevelled as the jacket she wore. Her face was full and creased and even without a full picture of her I could see that her figure told of a life of excess and indulgence.
"Ah Beth," Kelly said casually as the other girls began to dress. "Take off your clothes please."
Silently I did as I was asked, undressing for the judgemental eyes of our guest.
"Beth is new to our team, but beautiful as you can see and very talented." Kelly offered the woman in introduction and the finicky client simply grunted in response, though she sat forward in her chair to closely inspect me.
"Tell her to come closer." The woman, whom I did indeed recognise as a member of the shadow cabinet, said to Kelly rather than me, perhaps believing that discussing business with one of the working girls was improper. Then again, I wondered whether she thought that talking to a simple whore was beneath her.
I stepped forward and without warning the woman reached up and with unnerving accuracy inserted her middle finger into my vagina. Of course I was unprepared and certainly not aroused and I cried out as she roughly thrust her finger's full length into me, feeling my muscles twitching at the uninvited intrusion.
"Her tits are a little small, but she has a strong legs and a tight cunt."
"No tattoo's or piercings? My husband has a specific type."
"Can she dance? My husband likes dancing."
"Of course." Kelly assured her, though as it transpired, this wasn't a necessary skill.
I gasped as the woman withdrew her hand as unexpectedly as she had applied it. "Send her to my suite at 8pm this evening. My husband and I shall return shortly afterwards. She is to be naked and waiting in the bedroom, but not on the bed."
"Certainly," Kelly said in a business-like manner, completely at ease discussing terms whilst naked. "8pm."
***
Kelly escorted me to the couple's suite and waited as I undressed. I suppose I could have simply hidden away my clothing in an unused drawer or cupboard, but Kelly was following our instructions to the letter and more, carefully folding each garment as l removed it and adding them to a neat pile that she carried away with her once I was naked, balancing my shoes atop of it. I'd arrived early and had a good 20 minutes before I was expected. Knowing that my client would not return for some time allowed me time to look around without fear of discovery. Mr and Mrs Franks were staying for a week, but their extensive wardrobe, mostly formal attire, suggested to me that it would be nearer a month.
In a bedside drawer I found some very sexy black lingerie, edged with scarlet lace and for a moment I wondered whether they were intended for me, or indeed, whomever Mrs Franks had selected as her husband's gift. However, closer inspection immediately told me they were manufactured for a much fuller figure than any of the working girls possessed. They were the kind of sexy attire that a man might buy an older woman without considering how uncomfortable such exposure might make her feel; doubtless a gift from her husband for her to wear for him. Beneath the almost invisible bra and panties was a short night gown in the same gossamer fabric and below that on the bare wood of the drawer was a heavy and rather expensive looking vibrator. Without thinking l picked it up and ran my fingertips over the soft latex nobbles and I turned it on. The powerful vibrations were loud and so violent that I almost dropped the device, but instead I quickly switched it off and returned it to its nest, burying it beneath its erotic covers.