“Allen, Allen, oi.” I heard the shout and turned around to see that obnoxious prick Jeremy Tatnell, who had shared some classes with me at university. He was dressed in a natty suit that reeked expensive and climbing out of the drivers side of a black Porsche. Bastard! Then I noticed what was climbing out of the other side. She was tall, slim, blonde, very attractive and definitely classy while obviously some years older than he. Jeremy was about my age, 22, but she had to be in her late 30’s early 40’s. Sleekly dressed, her long legs levered out first followed by a gorgeous slim body with the top part of her suit showing plenty of creamy cleavage. She slung a black leather bag over her shoulder and waved at Jeremy and strode off in the direction of the mall.
Jeremy came around the car and reached out his hand to shake mine. My eyes were following her swiveling hips as she crossed the road and entered the shopping centre.
“Very nice,” I said. “Funny though, I thought your mother was dark and short.”
“She’s not my mother, sport,” he chortled, “I’m her toy boy, her kept man. I’m her live in shag. Rich as all get out, divorced about three times and randy as hell. I’m in paradise, man.”
“How so? How did you get to that?” I asked, piqued. I mean, he wasn’t the most handsome guy around - in fact, without an impartial decision, I’m sure I was better than he. He wasn’t as tall - five nine to my six two, sandy blonde to my dark, round features to my chiseled handsome profile, and, from memory of locker rooms past, average cock to my more than substantial.
“Al, when I got my degree, I tried every job in town and couldn’t get past first base. Limited opportunities, many applicants with better qualifications. I ran into Roger Williams and he steered me to a certain Mrs. Croker.”
I was intrigued since I was much in the same boat. I had been doing the rounds for months with the same disappointing results. If it hadn’t been for my mother and her wonderful income, I’d be dossing in some low rent boarding house and relying on social security.
“And?”
“Mrs. Croker runs a male escort agency. Virtually on my second outing, I was more or less adopted by Sylvia.” Jeremy gave a cheesy grin. “We hit it off big time. God she is insatiable and I have only been able to keep up with her due to the stamina of youth. She’s damn near worn me out and I’m on vitamins and the odd black market Viagra to keep going. She’s showered me with all sorts of goodies, including the Porsche, and look at this.” He looked around, and sheltered by a phone box, quickly unzipped his fly and produced his cock that showed a distinct lipstick ring around the base. “The randy bitch sucked me off on the way here. I tell you, you can’t beat these older dames.”
I nodded and he continued. “You remember how we used to try and get our end away with all those nubile young tarts and they would give us the brush off left, right and centre. Preserving their precious virginity until they married money, the bitches! You remember we queued to fuck that slack tart that time. What a waste of time! I remember you weren’t last in line when they handed out the cock meat.”
I had almost forgotten that. Truth be told, I’d had more pussy than I could handle but had not bandied it about. Chicks appreciated discretion and that was my second name.
Jeremy was enthusiastically carrying on. “The first date I had was a bit disappointing really. She was big and just lay there when I put it to her. Still, I got my end away and was paid $100. The next time out, it was Sylvia, and whammo. We fucked ‘til dawn and then she invited me to move in. Like greased lightning I was. She’s paid for everything since. You should try it, Al.” He spotted Sylvia returning swinging a Victoria’s Secret shopping bag. “See ya - have this,” and pressed a business card into my hand. Sylvia swished across the road and slid into the Porsche, leaning across to give Jeremy a big moist kiss, placing her hand high up on the inside of his thigh. They sped off.
The card read, “Discreet Gentlemen Escorts” and a telephone number. There was little resistance to my next action which was to pull out the mobile and ring. A low husky voice answered; “Discreet Gentlemen Escorts - may I help you?”
“Yes. My name is Allen Small. I’ve been recommended to you by Jeremy Tatnell, who I believe is one of your staff?”
“Why, yes he is. Would you like to come for an interview, say at 2.15pm?” I answered in the affirmative and received instructions directing me to an office block nearby.
The extremely smart office was located on the fourteenth floor. A young, well groomed receptionist led me into the main office. Behind a mahogany desk was a woman of somewhat indeterminate years, but good looking and expensively dressed.
