Her Calling (Emma Book 3) Read online

  A few more minutes of this, with my hungry mouth unwilling to give up its treat any time soon, and his growth gets almost out of hand. I need to offer him my pussy before it’s too late. It’s my job to sense the moment, just like we were taught at school. I’m sure she’s ready for him.

  “Want to fuck me?” I enquire as I pop my lips off his cock just far enough to allow me to speak.

  “Oh yes,” he says through gritted teeth. “And soon. Real quick.”

  I nod and smile. “How would you like me? Doggy?”

  That ‘how would you like me’ is among the go-to phrases they taught us at Cranleigh. They said it really got men going, and boy were they right. Not just the men, either. It turns me on something wild to use that line.

  He nods like some kind of crazy toy. I think I’ve guessed exactly right that doggy would be a younger guy’s first choice.

  He stands up and begins to step out of his jeans. I lower my panties, watching them with a lascivious eye as they drop to the floor. I wouldn’t be undressing myself if this was –

  My panties aren’t wet. I don’t remember the last time that happened.

  My heart thuds and I try to forget what I’ve just seen. Instead I tickle his penis with my hand before crawling onto the bed, my shins and feet hanging just over the edge so he can fuck me standing up if he wants to. But my head’s spinning. What’s going on?

  I’m sure this is going to be fine. A nice and handsome young man with a large penis is about to take me. Even the thought of it makes me wiggle my hips with impatience. I’m still so horny!

  I feel him prodding at my entrance. I’m not expecting him to beat about the bush, so to speak. But then he pushes a little more. What the…?

  He can’t seem to get in. I’m dying to be entered. How can this be happening?

  He tries again, and gets nowhere. He coughs awkwardly.

  Fuck! I must be bone dry!

  This has never even come close to happening before. I never even knew this could happen? And with such desire coursing through my veins? It makes no sense!

  I need to move fast, to save face. Maybe I can distract him from my embarrassing failure. It’s my only option right now.

  I whip my body around one hundred and eighty degrees. A flurry of thoughts races through my head. Fucking Charles. He’s not gotten out of my mind at all, has he? Lust-riven though I am right now, it’s messed with my vagina. And I’m seriously fucking unhappy about that.

  “Hey, on second thoughts, baby…do you want to mouth-fuck me?”

  He shrugs. “Sounds just as good to me.”

  Thank God for unfussy younger men. I’m not sure if he quite realised what the problem was, but that’s neither here nor there to me. I’m distraught about what’s happening down there. For a prostitute, it could be a serious problem.

  If he’s scarred my mind so much that I can’t work anymore, I’m going to sue Charles for all he’s worth, I think to myself.

  Carl’s cock enters my mouth, and I brace myself.

  “Fuck me hard,” I gurgle, just before it’s too late.

  I want him to choke me right now.

  He does exactly that. I know it’s hot, but for once my mind is elsewhere. I just take it, wondering all the while if I’m wet down there yet. I’d reach back and touch myself, but then I wouldn’t be able to keep still for him. For a sweet-looking boy, he’s giving me one hell of a pounding.

  When he finally spurts waves of hot semen down my throat, I’m relieved. I can’t have him needing access to my desert-like pussy again. Thank God there’s not much more time on the clock. I’ve never been much of a time-watcher, and stay overtime with clients more often than not. Usually because I’m enjoying things so much. But tonight, I need to make myself scarce, and fast.

  I get dressed quietly, trying not to let my worry show. Then I give him a little peck on the cheek. He’s been a perfect gentleman.

  “Thank you,” I smile. I hope he can’t sense my worry.

  But the taxi ride home is an uneasy one.

  Chapter IV

  I’m back in the doldrums. Everything was looking so rosy, and now I feel like it’s been completely and utterly derailed.

  What happened to my fairytale? Maybe, after all, it was just too good to be true. Maybe this is meant to be my reminder of why other people don’t walk out of their day jobs in a blaze of fury, and then think that they’re just going to make it as highly-paid escorts. This makes me a laughing stock.

  Whoever heard of a hooker that can’t get herself wet? It’s a major fucking problem in my particular profession. One I’m obviously not cut out for, I guess. The bitter taste of failure swirls into my mouth every time I think about how it went so wrong. All the good stuff – my rising star and my supposedly terrific reputation – is now cowering in a dark closet somewhere in the back of my mind.

  All I can think about is my stupid dry pussy and, more to the point, what caused it to be that way. I kept flashing back to Charles last night, and somehow – turned on though I was – it must have messed with my body’s reactions.

  I feel like I’ve let down Miss Jackson by allowing a repeat of the Rupert situation happen. I’ve let something akin to emotion get in the way of things again. And that was okay after a couple of days at the school. But right now? It’s devastating. Now, when I was just getting set up for life! Now, when everything was going so brilliantly.

  I was a sniffing wreck once again when I got home to Sarah last night. I was also maddeningly horny, desperate for release after the pleasures of the evening. Just another weird combination that’s completely new to me. The old Emma would have let the anger and upset get in the way of her lust. New Emma can’t kill the lust, no matter what’s going on.

  “I don’t see any problem at all,” said Sarah as she took a break from flicking my folds with her tongue. She calmed me down in her own special way, and insisting that a sixty-nine would fix everything. “You’re slick as anything down here!”

  “Mmm?” I murmured, my brain whirring away at this surprising information, even while I kissed her (sopping wet) vagina right at the mouth-like entrance perched right above my face.

  “Yeah, look!”

  I tensed up just a little as I feel two fingers probe between my legs. I was expecting trouble, but she slid them in as effortlessly as ever. It all felt completely normal. I curled up my legs in fresh delight, locking her head right where it was with my ankles. I knew it wouldn’t be long before this woman made me climax. We know each other so well by now: each of us understands just where to touch or lick – down to the last millimetre – and how fast and how long. Sexually, we just click so well.

  I exploded within a minute. And sure enough, the usual damp patch appeared on the sheet. I was puzzled.

  Maybe I should be relieved to know that I was functional again so soon after my nadir, but I’m convinced it’s not that simple. Sarah is a woman and what we do together is also a different kind of sex. There’s no major act of submission with her, even if she does tend to take the lead. Yes, we have a comfortable, sex-fuelled relationship, but it’s starting to feel like friends with benefits. It’s nothing at all like feeling taken and used by a man.

  Being taken and used, I’ve come to realise, is by far the hottest part of my job. Even when it’s a ‘vanilla’ scene, there’s something inherently submissive about being bought and paid for like a piece of property. And even when I’m not conscious of it, I adore the feeling.

  Owned and traded: this is what gets my juices flowing. Well, usually.

  Only now, some man has fucked with my head, and I’m off balance in a way I can’t explain. Part of me wants to go round to Charles’s house and let him have a piece of my mind. If I can ever stand to see him again, he’s going to have some serious explaining to do.

  “You’re overthinking this, Em,” says Sarah as she fixes us a coffee. I’m sitting at the kitchen counter, watching her potter around the gleaming, minimalist room whilst I feel sorry for mys
elf. I wonder how long I’ll manage to hang onto this place now that my career’s ruined?

  “You think?” I ask drily. “It doesn’t matter what I think or don’t think, does it? If I’m dry as the Sahara – ”

  “Oh cut it out, will you?” she says, thrusting a mug of creamy coffee across the counter. “You were absolutely dripping for me last night!”

  “Yeah, for you I was,” I say, wrapping my hands around the thick crockery. “But what if this is some kind of thing I’ve developed for when I’m with men?”

  She shakes her head like I’ve just said two and two makes five.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t be putting any money on that, you dirty girl! I know exactly what you’re like. It was just a one-off. Would you stop worrying?”

  She pauses, and a wicked grin crosses her features.

  “If you want, we could invite our friend Scott back here. You know, let him give you a test drive outside of a work situation.”

  “No!” I shriek.

  “Okay, okay,” she calms me, raising her hands in surrender. “Go back to being a regular girl then!”

  I growl at her from somewhere deep in my throat. She knows how to push my buttons, to the point that it annoys me when she does. She knows the old Emma – and pretty much most other women we know – would find some excuse not to revisit our five-way session with champagne man. Even though it was explosive and perfect and beautiful, and there was nothing not to like.

  “Fine, maybe,” I give in. “But not today. Sarah, I’m supposed to be gang-banging today. There’s no way I can risk it. Absolutely no way.”

  She looks crestfallen. Apparently not even Sarah can find a positive spin to put on the idea of a girl with lubrication issues planning to take a two-hour succession of men between her legs.

  Seeing her reaction makes me put my forehead down on the counter, close my eyes and groan.

  “Why, Sarah?” I grumble into the counter top. “Why? It was going so perfectly!”

  “It’s temporary, for God’s sake! Jesus, Emma, you’re being such a whining bitch today!”

  We’re at the point now where we can say this kind of thing to each other, and I’m on the receiving end all the time when she’s in one of her positive, build-me-up sort of moods. I just grind my forehead on the surface. I know I don’t have an answer for her.

  “The more you think about it, the more chance it has of really becoming an issue for you,” she insists. “And if you don’t snap out of it, I’ll get Latifa over here and – ”

  I grunt and reach across the bar top, clawing in her general direction. It’s my way of saying ‘no fucking way’.

  She places her hand gently over mine. She’s going all soft and nice: another change of tack. It’s so hard to keep up with her sometimes.

  “You better call Lucy…”

  “And tell her what?” I snap, sitting up suddenly. “She already knows I didn’t tell her what went on in that house, and that I lied about being ill last week. I’m on some kind of last warning, I’m sure.”

  “Tell her the truth! And, by the way, that last warning thing is rubbish. When are you going to accept that Lucy has got your back? You know she’d probably even go and tell your mum about your new job if you wanted her to.”

  I look at her with sudden interest, intrigued by the distracting change of subject. I try to picture the scene. And I’m delighted that I’m not in that scene. I think Lucy would do a better job of it than anybody I’ve ever met. I was absolutely terrible the last time I tried to tell Mum about all this. She thinks I’m some kind of masseuse now, and that just feels like I’ve dug a hole for myself. One that involves giving my mother a massage for Christmas.

  She’s giving me an inquisitive look. “You like that idea, huh?”

  I shrug. “Actually, I’m not completely against it. It would be such a relief not to have to actually say the words out loud. And that’s exactly what has to happen with Mum.”

  Sarah raises her eyebrows and grins, taking a self-satisfied sip of her latte.

  “But anyway, I need to see if I still have a career first, or we can forget the whole thing,” I continue, giving into my moping self once more.

  “Yeah, so talk to Lucy like a grown-up, will you? She’ll know what to do. She’s not going to force you to go tonight, is she? She’ll give you whatever time you need, even till after New Year if you want. Don’t tell me she won’t!”

  I take a deep breath and twitch my nose.

  “I know. It’s such short notice though. The thing starts at nine – and it’s nearly lunch time! I’ve never let her down before.”

  There’s a short silence. I’m starting to think a little more clearly now. I’m even moving from problems to solutions.

  And as I look up at Sarah, one of the solutions hits me right between the eyes. I wonder…

  “You! You could replace me!”

  Sarah gawps at me.

  “Emma, Lucy doesn’t want me. We’ve been down that road. Besides, she’ll just replace you with one of her other girls.”

  I reflect for a moment. Sarah is probably right. Still, don’t I have a bit of a card to play here?

  “Maybe,” I murmur slowly, giving her a penetrating look. “But if I’m going to come clean with Lucy, she’s going to feel sorry for me. And she owes me one for all that nastiness with Charles.”

  “I’m not sure Lucy works that way,” Sarah remarks drily.

  “But there’s nothing to lose,” I insist. “Anyway, it’s Sunday, and that’s a super-busy day. She might just have all the girls booked out. Oh, and another thing,” – I feel a wicked smile curling across my face – “it’s not like all of her girls want to do a gang-bang...”

  “What?” cries Sarah. “Why wouldn’t they...”

  She doesn’t finish the sentence. She just trails off as she shakes her head in disbelief.

  I snicker. “I know! And we don’t want her calling Petra up, do we? I bet she could get hold of that bitch any time if she wanted to.”

  Sarah splutters her distaste for the very idea.

  “So unless you’ve got anything planned for tonight that sounds better than two hours of solid fucking, I’ll – ”

  “Do it, do it!”

  She’s getting over-excited now. All she’s doing is setting herself up for disappointment if the answer is a ‘no’. Sometimes I really do think she might be a little bit bipolar. If there is such a thing.

  I put my hand, signalling her to calm down as I get off the leather-topped bar stool and fetch my phone from the coffee table across the room. I’m happy that I’ve got a plan of sorts, even if it doesn’t work. Trying to help Sarah out has already taken my mind off the troubles I’m having.

  As I hear Lucy’s phone ring, though, my nerves begin to rise again. God, what’s she’s going to think of me?

  Suddenly I realise I don’t want an audience, so I let myself out onto the balcony. The crisp air of London in December envelopes me like a cold suit, but I’d rather have the privacy than be warm. The sliding door is nice and soundproof.

  I hope it’s a quick call, though. I’ve got no shoes on, and the ground is decidedly freezing beneath my bare feet. Should have thought that through, really.

  “Hi Emma!” greets Lucy after picking up. “How are you, darling?”

  “I’m okay…just cold, I guess!”

  “Well that’s what you get making phone calls outside in winter! Is that a plane coming in to land?”

  I look up. Sure enough, Lucy has managed to identify a medium-sized aircraft descending into London City Airport. Just from the background noise on the phone. She’s always so switched-on. Which is exactly the reason I found it so hard to believe she was hoodwinked by Charles.

  “Yes, it is…anyway, Lucy, I…I don’t think I can do tonight. I’m so sorry.”

  There’s a short silence.

  “What happened last night, Emma?”

  She’s made the connection instantly. And I have to tell her about the incre
dibly personal issue I had. I have to come clean. I feel tears welling up as I do it.

  Lucy laughs. “Emma, are you sniffing back the tears? You silly girl! This is absolutely not unheard of, you know that, right? One night like that is not a reason to start worrying. There are probably just one or two things you need to work out in your head. It’ll probably just go away by itself.”

  People keep telling me not to make such a big deal out of it. I’m not sure it’s quite that simple.

  “Okay, but I think tonight would be a bit – ”

  She cuts me off. “Oh, I agree completely. You can’t risk gang-banging under the current circumstances.” She pauses. “But you will gang-bang soon. A lot. With no problems. I promise you that.”

  I smile, then I clear my throat. “Thanks Lucy, we’ll have to see. What about tonight, though? Can I suggest a replacement?”

  “I’ve got a backup, thanks, Emma. Monique and Tammy are both free, and I’m sure they’ll jump at the chance.”

  “Oh, I just thought, maybe…”

  I don’t need to try and sound crestfallen. It’s exactly how I’m feeling. If I can’t get Sarah this gig tonight, I’ll be back to wallowing in, well...nothing wet, that’s for sure.

  “Maybe…your friend?”

  I gulp, and hope the upset in my voice is still there to remind her of how much a favour like that would cheer me up. “I just thought you might not have anyone on standby, but I guess…”

  Lucy stops to think, then answers me very slowly. “Alright, Emma, listen.”

  I’m convinced she’s about to tell me off for pushing Sarah’s case once too often.

  “Maybe this is a good night to give her a chance,” she continues slowly. My heart does an excited somersault. “I’ll still replace you with one of the others, but I could take Sarah along as a bonus. This guy’s been a client for a long time, so I could give him a loyalty reward of sorts. Sarah will have to share the twenty-five grand with Tammy, probably, but since neither of them had work five minutes ago I think that shouldn’t be a problem.”