Beth's Summer Break Pt. 03

I lay down beside him again looking forward to round two and took a swig from the bottle.

"If you don't mind me asking what's the deal with you and Gina then?"

"Oh nothing... it's all just shit..." I was about to fob him off and thought No -- he's a good guy and he's been through the wringer.

"Ok, you deserve a bit of an explanation. But I'm going to need one of these..."

I picked up the cigarettes from my bedside table.

"Go on then, if you must."

"Sorry, bad habit and all that I know. I'll try to keep it away from you."

I lit the cigarette and began to tell him all about what had gone on over the last few weeks. I gave him chapter and verse on the sordid little tale of Gina and Mike and how it all panned out and we even managed to get a few laughs out of the situation which was a bit unexpected.

In the process I found out that Gina had come on to him earlier and left him feeling rather uncomfortable. It was hardly surprising and to be honest Sam was so gorgeous I'd have been shocked if she hadn't.

Almost done with the sorry story, I got up to get rid of my half-smoked and almost forgotten cigarette out of the usual window. I stood at the bottom of the bed and turned to him. "I have to tell Dad but fucking hell Sam, how?"

Sam did not respond. He was staring over my shoulder with a look of horror on his face.

"Oh shit," he said.

I turned around and Gina was standing in the now open doorway.

Chapter 2 - GINA

It was a lovely summer morning, and I really should have walked. The Belvedere Hotel is not that far from the house but my attire was not really appropriate for even a ten minute jaunt.

The taxi was waiting and it was Matt, one of my regulars. He somehow always takes my appearance in his stride whether or not I am in formal business suit, or as today in full-on fuck-me mode, with my favourite leather skirt and my new patent leather stiletto boots. Not a cat's chance in hell of walking further than the end of the drive in them. These boots are not made for walking.

I am hopeless at texting at the best of times but I was all thumbs and no fingers trying to text Bethany to tell her that Sam the computer engineer was still in my office. I looked at the finished result, and without my reading glasses thought it made reasonable sense, and hit send.

"Morning Miss Gina. Let me guess... the Belvedere?" Matt was waiting patiently for me to get in the cab.

He sounded his usual bluff but genial self. He had moved down from London a few years ago in his early fifties for a quieter life and I always felt relaxed when Matt was at the wheel. He was a safe driver, told some great stories from his time cabbying round the mean streets of the capital, and if he had even the remotest inkling of what I was up to, he was the model of discretion.

"Sorry Matt I'm hopeless at texting. Yes thanks - the Belvedere," I replied. "I'm meeting an old friend for lunch."

"Best sort Miss G, the old friends. Miss some of the old buggers from the East End but hey ho, you got to move on, ain't ya?"

"Too true Matt, too true," I said thinking of the small lie I had just told him. I'd told many bigger ones to many more people over many years, so that tiny little one alone wasn't going to send me to hell.

Michael Robert Anderson was not an old friend. In fact I had only known him a few weeks, but Michael Robert Anderson had very quickly become a very good friend indeed and I was very much looking forward to our lunch date today.

And for once it really was a lunch date. We had decided to eat first before we got down the fun. I had a few surprises in store for Mike today. He was heading back to the States soon so time was precious.

I buckled up and sat back for the short ride to the hotel as Matt pulled the cab smoothly away from the kerb. Despite looking forward to the afternoon with almost feral anticipation I felt some small regret that on another day I'd have been in my office right now on my knees in front of Sam, the engineer who was in the process of fixing one of my computers.

Poor Sam, such a lovely lad and hot as hell. I have a thing for rugby players and as soon as I opened the door to him I decided to have some fun. I was already starting to get a tingle on at the thought of my afternoon with Mike and once I get going, there is no stopping me. I flirted with him unmercifully and by the time I left the poor lad could barely stand up without injuring himself.

I'm pretty sure if Bethany hadn't been upstairs in her room listening to that horrible metal racket of hers I'd have afforded the lovely Samuel some of Gina's renowned oral relief and then expected the same from him.

But Bethany was upstairs and in the end Sam was left with a very visible erection, and I headed towards another erection that he could ever hope to match, no matter how sexy or impressive he was. At least I had the good grace to feel a little bit guilty about teasing him. Not for long of course.

Maybe he'd get rid of it with Bethany? About time that girl got a good fuck instead of using those bloody machines on herself. She was far too beautiful to be lying there on her own relying on battery power to get herself off. She was driving me mad but I had promised her father Andrew that she could stay for the summer. I thought it would be nice to have someone different around for a change but had I known what a moody little cow she was I wouldn't have offered in the first place.

It was too late now. We were daggers drawn most of the time but sometimes when she softened and those lovely brown eyes lit up and she smiled, it was like the sun coming through the clouds on a rainy day. I have to say I was tempted on more than one occasion.

Early on I had let her see me naked to gauge her reaction and she seemed confused and a bit embarrassed but I had held out some hope that maybe we could 'get to know each other better' in more ways than one. On another night I stood outside her room listening to a telltale gentle buzzing sound and some lovely soft, breathy sighing for a few minutes. I put my hand on the door handle but just as I began to turn it something stopped me and five minutes later I was doing the same thing to myself further down the corridor.

In the end I decided to leave it. She seemed to have a thing against me and I was counting down the weeks until Andrew was back and she was off up to Durham again. If it happened, it happened and although I am a sexual predator by nature, I would never force someone against their will.

The cab came to such a gentle stop I hardly registered it. "Ok Miss G, here we go. Hope you have a luvverly day. Want a pickup later?"

"No that's great Matt. Thanks as ever." I had an account with the taxi firm but I handed him a five pound note, a pretty good tip for a journey of a couple of minutes.

I managed to get my spike-heeled boots out of the back of the taxi without falling flat on my face or scratching his paintwork.

"Cheers Miss G. Wish they was all like you!"

"No problem Matt, see you soon. Best to Mrs M!"

A proper gentleman. I'm convinced if I told him I was off upstairs for a threesome with Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin I'd get the same reaction. "Well good on yer, you 'ave a luvverly afternoon Miss G."

Oh, gentle lovely Matthew the taxi driver -- you have no idea how nice an afternoon Miss G is going to have.

After all, it is Gina's birthday week and she is in the mood for celebrating!

Mike was staying overnight in London for a meeting so we had planned to meet for lunch as his train arrived back around noon. For once there would be no rush, just a wonderful building anticipation over a couple of leisurely drinks. Then the meal followed by a very short but frightening ride in the hideously rickety lift that scared the life out of me.

Then a lovely long ride - one of the rides of my life - on Mick's glorious big black cock.

I walked into the bar and found a vacant table. As I was early it was quiet and I got one of my favourite seats in one of the big bay windows with a nice armchair and a view of reception. A lovely young man in a bow tie and starched white shirt welcomed me and enquired as to what Madame desired in a sexy French accent that only added to the tingle I was feeling down below. Gerard always looked after me and the girls and we all had confessed to having thoughts of him looking after us in a more physical way.

I ordered a large vodka and tonic with lots of ice.

I sipped my drink and glanced at my watch. Five past twelve. Mike should be here by now. I was sure he said his train from London got in at five to and the station was only a couple of minutes down the road.

I was just about to check the rail website for any delays when the phone buzzed in my hand and a message popped up on screen.

'Gina so sorry babe -- still in London. Couldn't get out of mtg earlier 2 tell u. Shit-storm here, complete SNAFU. Won't make it back today. Make it up 2 u big time soon. Sorry x 2. XXX M.'

I hate mobile phones and at that moment all I wanted to do was throw the fucking thing as far away from me as I possibly could. I read it again and the words blurred as tears came into my eyes.

Shit-storm. SNAFU. You said it. Oh you fucking bastard Mike. This was going to be Gina's big birthday bash.

Gina is eighteen years old this week.

I might be forty one, but Gina is eighteen and she was going to have such a party.

Was.

Past tense.

No party for Gina now. Cheers Mike.

I stabbed blindly at a few keys and somehow got a message back to him, though I am not sure if he would understand what I wrote as I barely understood it myself.

I sat there feeling totally empty, my afternoon of champagne, fine food and complete and utter debauchery turned to ashes in a matter of seconds.

Gina's birthday was fucking ruined.

"Excuse me Madame, is everything all right?"

The handsome waiter was back.

"You seem... distressed? Can I get you anything?"

Oh, stop it with that accent, boy! Yes, the fucking key for room 241 and you for an hour. No, make that two hours.

Instead I pointed at my glass. "Same again please Gerard. Oh and I'm fine, thanks. It's nothing. Nice of you to ask."

"Certainly Madame, pas de probleme."

Happy birthday Gina. You've come a long way and you deserve a better eighteenth than this.

When my drink was replenished I took a long sip. The bar was getting a little busier but apart from a general hum of activity I was barely aware of it.

I was back in Birkenhead on Merseyside and it was over twenty years ago.

There was a skinny girl standing on a street corner, long blonde hair whipping in the vicious wind coming off the river, freezing cold and scared. Pencil thin except for a very impressive pair of breasts that made her stand out from the other girls on the strip. A man approached, mid-thirties, dark stubble and shaven-headed, a nasty spider web tattoo on his neck.

"How much, our kid?" The usual nasal Scouse twang.

The girl ground out her cigarette under her booted heel and turned to him. "Depends whatcha want."

"How 'bout stickin' it between them jugs of yours? Fuck'n hell, biggest tits I've ever seen."

Oh shit, not again. She plucked a figure from the air. From the freezing cold, stinking air coming from off the Mersey at one in the morning.

"Forty."

"Fuck off! She'll do it for twenny." He jerked a thumb back at a Romanian girl a few yards away, smoking nervously, looking down at the ground.

"Has she got these fuckers?" Looking braver than she felt the girl pushed her massive tits together and shook them at him.

"Thirty quid - final offer. And I get to shoot me load on them." He poked a dirty fat finger hard into one of the girl's breasts making her gasp.

The girl shuddered and pointed over the road to a semi-derelict building and started to walk slowly towards it.

Back in the rather more refined surroundings of the Belvedere, I shivered with the vivid memory of that night as if it had happened yesterday and not over twenty years ago. I drained my glass and caught Gerard's eye as he moved around the tables. He nodded and a few minutes later I was on my third V&T in far too short a space of time.

The piece of scum with the web tattoo was the last bastard ever to hit me. Once my bruises had subsided and my swollen and split mouth was once again up to tackling my most requested task, I applied to one of the escort agencies in town. It wasn't much of a step up but it had to be better than the streets.

I had heard the guy was still in hospital. Multiple stab wounds, missing half an ear, and it was being reported as a gang fight. No way the little shit would ever own up to having been carved up by a twenty year old hooker who was all of seven stones soaking wet.

But I'd had enough and it was time for a change.

I never expected to be taken on by the agency, but I must have done a good job on Jytte, the 40 year old ex-pro who ran the company, and her much younger husband Ronnie at my 'interview'.

When our short but intense session was over, Jytte lit two cigarettes and handed me one.

Her accent was a strange hybrid mix of Swedish and Scouse. "You don't look much kid. Tits on legs, but I like ya. You got energy, fuck like a rabbit and you look like you enjoy it even if you don't. I think Ronnie likes you too, so I'm happy, eh? Once these fade," she said as she ran her fingers over the last of my badly concealed bruises, "you should be good to go. You'll not get nott'n' like that shit happenin' any more when you're with us. Welcome to the family!" She touched my still slightly swollen lip as she said it.

Jytte turned out to be a good boss and I still keep in touch with her now, even though she is long retired. Of course Ronnie is off somewhere with a younger model.

For me it was now hotels or a room at Jytte's house. A mattress, no matter how flea-ridden, is better than being up against a cold brick wall. Despite the often seedy surroundings, the relative comfort meant that I could expand my repertoire and instead of trying to finish off some low life as quickly and cleanly as I could, I was now learning the art of prolonging the act and actually beginning to enjoy it.

Jytte was a good teacher and I learned a lot from her. As I got better the jobs got better, the hotels got better and the money got better. I filled out a bit in other areas and my tits were no longer my sole attraction.

I went at it full on and after a few years of hard work I was in demand and earning good money.

At that time Jasmine, one of the girls I worked with, moved south. We had done a lot of stuff together and we enjoyed working as a pair whenever we could. She hooked up with a high class agency in London and began getting great work and earning big money.

She phoned me one night out of the blue with a proposition and three months later, with Jytte's blessing, I was on a train, heading south with all my belongings in one small suitcase.

I had made a big decision. Two really. The first was to sign up with the same agency as Jas.

The second was to decide that Sandra Higginbottom, the Birkenhead girl with an accent thicker than the mud at the bottom of the Mersey, was never going to set the world on fire whatever profession she was in.

So I changed my name, bought a one way ticket to London and never looked back.

Welcome to the world Georgina Harcourt. It is your oyster. Open it with care and devour it with relish.

Just over three years later I had a business degree from the Open University. I got my first 'proper' job and started working at various business consultancies. I honed my accent to be what I thought was middle class, middle England neutral and before long I had enough money saved and enough knowledge to start my own business. The odd Scouse inflection still creeps in from time to time but it's nice to have a reminder now and again. You can take the girl out of Liverpool as they say...

I gave a small, silent and gleeful two fingers to whichever bastard said sometime in the past that I'd never be good at anything that didn't involve me lying on my back.

My two jobs complemented each other nicely, so by day I was a respectable business consultant and by night or at weekends, I would take clients to wherever their little hearts desired.

That included taking them to some weird and wonderful places, and I had never been happier. It made me fairly well off - certainly comfortable -, and got me a lifestyle I couldn't have dreamt of back in the 'Pool.

About three years ago I moved out of London and set up here and it has been a great success. The business consultancy is thriving and I still keep my hand in with the escort work from time to time.

Well, it would be rude not to -- I co-own the agency after all, and the girls and boys occasionally need to see that the boss still has it what it takes. My two recent trips to London had been very successful indeed.

Eighteen years? Really?

I took another sip of my drink and looked round the bar of the Belvedere. Would I strike lucky again today as I had with Mike a few weeks ago?

Strangely it really had started as a girly lunch. It was all going the usual way with the three of us. Some laughs, some serious talk, good food, wine and company. Then Jen noticed a very attractive African American gentleman dining with an older colleague across the room. "Wow, look at that specimen," she said in a stage whisper. Mel and I both glanced up at the same time, just as his eyes met mine. Something grabbed at me between the legs and I realised with horror that it was my own hand. I prayed no-one saw my involuntary action beneath the table as our eyes burned into each other.

It was a case of who blinks first and luckily his colleague eventually said something that distracted him otherwise I think we'd still be there now.

"Fuck me!" whispered Mel.

"No, me... please!" replied Jen plaintively adding, "but as usual it's Harcourt that gets the meaningful stare."

"Sorry girls, you've just got it or you haven't!"

"Yes well some of us have husbands Gina dear. So even if we were so lucky we'd have to turn him down out of pure faithfulness."

"Fuck that," said Jen. "I'd jump his bones any day. God, I'd push Denzil Washington out of the way to get to him."

Laughing, we were distracted by the waitress bringing our desserts and when I got the chance to look across the room again the table was empty. I could feel the disappointment flood over me.

Jen sighed. "Bum, bugger, damn. He was going have me up the arse bent over the front of that Mercedes that has just pulled up outside, with a crowd of hundreds cheering him on whilst I sang the Star Spangled Banner in a light soprano."

Mel and I collapsed into hysterics. Jen and Mel will fantasise graphically about what they will do to anyone they fancy but they've never strayed from their partners. They get their sexual titillation vicariously through me.

We finished the meal and the last of our wine and got up to leave. I glanced into the bar and my heart lifted as I saw the two guys from the restaurant table standing up and shaking hands. The older guy came out into the lobby and headed for the exit. The American sat down by himself nursing a drink. He looked directly at me a second time and nodded to the now empty seat opposite him.

Jen gave me a push in the back. "Go get him, Tiger! Next week, we want the whole dirty story."

Oh they got a dirty story all right, and it took most of lunch to tell it.

There were no likely candidates today unfortunately. I swirled the last of the vodka in the glass, the remains of the ice clinking on the side. I shook my head and mouthed, "No thanks," as Gerard signalled silently from across the room asking if I wanted another.