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Tags: fic type: rps fic: secret diary of a london escort pairing: multiple pairings pairing: bloomenhaal fic type: au
Published : 3 months, 2 weeks ago (Mon, 04 Aug 2008 11:33:20 PDT)
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Title: Secret Diary of a London Escort (17/20)
Author: Louby ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) fictionbylouby
Pairing: Orlando/Various, Bloomenhaal, this chapter Orlando/Hugh Laurie
Summary: Orlando invites readers to take an intimate and frank look into the life of his alter ego Beau, a high class prostitute.
Warnings: Prostitution, AU. This chapter video cameras.
Disclaimer: This fic is somewhat based on the Intimate Adventures of a London Call Girl by Belle De Jour, and the subsequent ITV2 Miniseries. The actors belong to themselves.
Feedback: Gives me warm fuzzies.
AN: Beta read by my amazing twin sister little_sis_pip.
AN 2: Thanks to imogen_lily for this gorgeous banner.
Previous Chapters
Have I ever mentioned how much I love to sleep? Probably more than once, but if not, let me reiterate. I love to sleep, and I can do it anywhere; on the tube, in waiting rooms, in bars….I once fell asleep on the back of a horse whilst pony trekking in the Pyrenees, and during my university lectures I spent more time asleep than awake. Incidentally, my favourite thing to do when I’m not sleeping also begins with ‘s’. Luckily so far I’ve yet to fall asleep during sex, although a few of my clients have been so damn talentless between the sheets that sleep has sometimes seemed like the more appealing option. But I’ve resisted, because I’m a (somewhat) professional, despite the fact that my eyes are drooping right now, in the middle of a meeting with Christian. Not good, I’ll end up signing up for things without realising, and end up escorting in Tulsa or something equally ridiculous. Okay, so that only happened on Friends, but you get my point – I’ve always struggled to differentiate fiction from reality; even now I can’t talk about Fight Club, I refuse to pick up the phone in a ringing phone booth, and when the summer is over and I dig my trusty winter coat from the back of my wardrobe, a small part of me still believes that I’m going to end up in Narnia. Then again, as a high class escort who earns £200 an hour for doing relatively little, ‘real life’ has never been my biggest concern; and while I’m working, I’m in my own little world. In fact some would say I’m in my own little world even in my personal life, but as of late, I’ve had company.
One can hardly blame me for falling asleep though, this is my first week back since taking time off after my surgery, and Christian hasn’t exactly made it easy on me. Apparently there were new, important clients that Christian wouldn’t trust with anyone else but me, and almost all of my regulars were all happy to wait for me whilst I convalesce. Jake’s ban on caffeine hasn’t helped matters, in fact it’s slowly killing me. Needless to say I’ve had more than my fair share of clients this week, plus more appointments per day since I’m no longer working weekends. Clearly my fears over one day losing all my clients to Jude were unfounded, quite to the contrary in fact. The way he’s sat quietly seething right now, shooting me daggers, indicates that because of this he now hates me even more; I bloody love it. Okay I know that I’m supposed to be finally growing up but there are some things that I’m never going to grow out of; my ongoing rivalry with Jude is one of them.
“Beau?” My eyes shoot open as I pretend I was awake all along. I’m quite the heavy sleeper, but believe me when I say that when Christian barks at you he could wake the dead. “Beau! Are you even listening?”
“If I told you I was would you know I was lying?” I yawn as Elijah and Dominic snicker under their breath.
“He was asleep” Jude smirks as if he’s got one over on me. “Apparently Beau just can’t hack it anymore.”
“When you have as many clients as me Sweetheart, you’ll be this knackered too” I smile sweetly. “Like I always said in high school, it’s hard work being this popular.”
Jude’s mouth curls in disdain as he goes to retort, only for Christian to hold his hand up before he can go any further. Probably wise, else we could be here all day and unlike Jude I have someone to go home to.
“That’s enough! As I was saying before Beau decided to take a snooze, I want you each to take one of these video cameras. Before you start whining on I’m getting the other boys and all the girls to do it. If we want to stay as one of the top agencies in the West End then we need to keep up the competition and according to Ian’s website mere profile photos are no longer enough. Take these home and film just for a few minutes to give the clients a sneak preview. Think of it like those teasers that come on the internet before you have to pay up.”
“What?!” I ask incredulously, looking round to see who is echoing my disbelief only to find I’m on my own. “I take three weeks off, have a little kip in a meeting and suddenly we’re porn stars?”
“The cameras have night vision technology” Christian continues as if I’d never said a word. “Turn the lights out when you do it, makes it look more sensual. You won’t be able to see much but the clients will get the picture without you lot worrying about being recognised.”
“If I wanted a sex video posted on the internet then I would date Paris Hilton” I sigh in exasperation as the other escorts gather their things and obediently take a camera.
“I don’t know what you’re whining about” Christian mutters conspiringly as I pass him. “You’re one of the only escorts with a boyfriend – be inventive.” I can’t help but laugh as he raises his eyebrows suggestively; maybe he’s right – this could be fun.
********************************
I arrive back at my apartment just before 7pm, grateful to have the next few days off, especially since Jake has spent the last two nights in Cornwall for a conference. I don’t know what has been more annoying; the fact that I’ve been boyfriendless for two days or the fact that the summer has finally arrived and he was staying in a harbour view hotel in Newquay. My mood picks up further when I see Jake’s car parked outside my building, and as I dump my stuff inside I recognise his chicken scrawl scribbled on a post-it.
On the roof, this weather is fucking awesome. Bring up some cans. J xxxx
After muttering a few choice words under my breath about acting as my boy’s personal slave, I do as he instructs and climb up the fire escape onto the roof of my apartment block. Surprisingly considering the weather, we seem to have to space to ourselves. It’s quite the sun trap, and if Jake’s still form lying shirtless on a blanket is anything to go by, he’s certainly making the most of it. I’m torn between rushing up and launching myself at him, which is pretty tempting considering he’s half naked, or doing something more……mischievous. Since I’m little more than a cheeky child, you can probably guess I’m choosing the latter. Very quietly, I place the remaining cans of lager on the floor before sneaking up behind him and kneeling down next to him, waiting a few moments as his eyelids twitch before rolling the ice cold can along his bare chest.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” I collapse in a fit of giggles as Jake’s eyes pop open and he almost jumps out of his skin at the sudden sensation, looking around to see which swine is responsible before his eyes come to rest on me.
“Sorry Love, but I could resist the opportunity to be impish” I manage to say through my laughter.
“Impish? That’s one word for you” Jake mutters indignantly, but unable to contain his own laughter. “God it’s only been two days but I’ve been really craving you, you bastard!”
“Is that your idea of an endearment?” I ask pointedly as I snake my arms around his neck as we share a lazy kiss. As he goes to pull away, I can’t resist taking his bottom lip between my teeth, pulling slightly until I absolutely have to let go; he loves it when I do that. This time it’s my turn to shriek, as he suddenly sticks his hand down the back of my t-shirt and releases what must be one tonne of ice. I stare at him, open mouthed and wide eyes as I shake myself rather ungracefully until the last remnants fall out of the bottom.
“Come on, you deserved that” Jake laughs, ready to run just in case I decide to retaliate before finally relaxing as I sit down, still slightly disgruntled, on the blanket.
“How was the conference?” I ask with feigned interest, helping myself to the half eaten pizza he’s ordered. It’s stone cold, but that doesn’t really matter. During uni stone cold pizza became our weekend breakfast of choice, in fact before now we’ve been so hungry on a night out we’ve eaten pizza that we’d already dropped in the gutter.
“Dull, but both days started at nine and finished at three so I got to sleep in then sit out in the sun. Managed to get away by 1pm this afternoon then headed straight over here.”
“Because you missed me?” I ask playfully, fluttering my eyelashes.
“You know I did – don’t milk it” he warns seriously, opening his legs to allow me to wriggle closer until I’m reclining between them. My heart warms as his arms immediately find their way around my waist, and I distinctly here him inhale as he buries his face in my currently uncontrollable mass of curls. I really need a haircut, but I’ve been working my arse off (quite literally) this past week and when I haven’t been at work I’ve been… you know….otherwise occupied. I think Jake prefers my hair like this anyway, gives him something to hold on to when I go down on him.
“You’re red hot” I notice as my cheek touches his bare chest. I manage not to comment on the fact that he’s been sunbathing on my roof and drinking my lager whilst I’ve been sweltering in Christian’s house. Not that he doesn’t deserve a break; he works really hard at a job that, if it were me, would be enough to make me top myself.
“You’ve only just noticed?” he teases, slipping his hand playfully beneath my shirt.
“You know, I thought I had the monopoly on turning innocent phrases into sexual innuendos, but it looks like I have a rival.” God I love the banter in our relationship; reminds me of drunken nights in the local pub back in Newcastle. I love it almost as much as the closeness, not to mention the sex.
He doesn’t retort, but he does sigh happily. It’s been a long time since either of us were this content, but Jake in particular. He wears his heart on his sleeve and is nowhere near as good as I am at hiding his true feelings. We both love to come up here. On a clear day you can see for miles, and because it’s that much taller than the surrounding buildings, it seems like we’re a lot more central than we actually are. When you spend most your time in the city centre, it’s easy to forget how huge London is, and that whoever you are, you’re just a tiny speck in a city of millions. But then there are moments like this, completely insignificant and unremarkable, and you still feel like you’re the only two people in the world.
“Don’t ever make me leave here, Jake” I whisper as I admire the cityscape with awe for what must be the millionth time. I tell him this because it’s totally in his hands. Wherever Jake goes, I aim to follow.
“Wouldn’t dream of it” he reassures, placing a brief kiss on my shoulder.
“I have sailed the world, beheld its wonders. From the Dardanelles to the mountains of Peru. But there’s no place like London!” I trail off as I realise I don’t know the rest of the words.
“First of all, I’ll give you the Dardanelles but you’ve definitely never been to Peru.”
“I’ve been to Machu Pichu!”
“Yeah, the cocktail bar” he reminds me. “And second of all, I knew buying you the Sweeney Todd soundtrack was a bad idea.”
“Are you alluding to my soulful, melodic singing voice?” I ask with feigned ignorance.
“Not at all, I was alluding to that god awful sound that just came out of your mouth!”
“God awful?!” I gasp as I turn in his arms. “I’ll give you god awful!”
My not so carefully planned ambush was thwarted; as soon as I was facing him Jake grabbed both of my wrists, using them to pull me down against his lips as he kissed me, that bit more passionately than earlier. I moan into the kiss, ceasing my struggles so that he lets go of my arms, effectively freeing me enough so that I clasp his face, holding him just where I want him. As the kiss continues, one of Jake’s hands wanders from its place on my hip under my still damp shirt, running his fingers along the skin of my back as the other comes to rest on my arse. Neither of us is in any hurry to take this further (which is lucky considering we’re on my roof) and are very content to just enjoy the kiss, which is probably what I’ve missed most whilst we’ve been apart. In my line of work, in fact in life in general, sex is easy to come by. A kiss from a lover is more special, and should be cherished.
“I love you” I whisper breathily as we pull apart. “Speaking of Sweeney Todd, sometimes when we’re together, I’m so happy that I feel like we’re in a musical.”
“Not such a dark musical I hope” Jake chuckles, cradling my cheek and staring lovingly back up at me.
“Of course not! One with cheesy smiles and jazz hands where the protagonists fall in love despite adversity and live happily ever after.”
“You know, real life isn’t always like that Lan” Jake says, a little more serious now.
“It isn’t?!” I ask in mock horror. “Watch it Jakers, you’re starting to sound as cynical as I am!”
“Jakers?! When was the last time you called me Jakers?”
“I don’t know, years ago” I shrug. “I thought you’d grown out if it.”
“Have you grown out of Orli?”
“Ahhh, but all my family calls me Orli” I remind him, leaning down to rub our noses playfully in an Eskimo kiss.
“Good evening gentleman.”
At the sound of the distinguished voice above us, both Jake and I pull apart like we’re fourteen year olds caught making out instead of doing our homework. I smile innocently at my landlord, trying to convince him that he hadn’t just seen me lying on top of my boyfriend with his hand on my backside.
“Evening Mr. Fry.”
“My dear boy, please call me Stephen.” I could listen to him talk all day; his voice is so refined that it makes even the most privileged of families in my village sound like they’re selling pegs on a market in the East End. “Particularly as I’m not approaching you as your landlord but for a different reason entirely.”
“I’m intrigued” I say dramatically causing Jake to roll his eyes in exasperation.
“Would you allow me to cook your dinner tomorrow night, Orlando? Say around eight in my apartment?”
“I’m flattered Stephen, but as you can see I’m already taken.” I tell him jokingly, shrugging my shoulder towards Jake.
“Well I can see that, and a very pretty picture it was too” he adds whimsically, a cheeky glint in his eyes. “But I can assure you that my intentions are purely honourable. Well, almost.”
“Go on then, you’ve twisted me arm. Plus I’m curious.” Jake always goes out for drinks with his colleagues after work on a Friday; he won’t be back until nine at least, so whatever Mr. Fry has planned, it beats sitting around on my own.
“Excellent, so I’ll see you tomorrow at eight” he turns around gracefully and head back towards the stairs, before halting almost as an afterthought. “One more thing. What shall I call you?”
“That depends, is it business or pleasure?”
“Oh it’s purely business, although not in the strictest sense of the word” he adds with a wink.
I’ve told you before; he knows exactly what I’m up to when he sees random men calling at all hours. “In that case you can call me Beau.”
He nods in agreement, looking me up and down appreciatively. “I already do.”
As promised, the following evening at precisely 7.59pm (something tells me that he enjoys punctuality) I arrive at Mr. Fry’s penthouse apartment at the top of our building. Because he was so cryptic about the actual purpose of the dinner I was unsure how I should dress, in the end opting for a simple shirt and dress jeans as I would wear if I was going out for a meal with friends. Now don’t get me wrong; my apartment is by no means shabby, in fact compared to where most my friends are living it’s an absolute palace, in a really good location, spacious and with a balcony. The penthouse however….lets just say I can’t believe that this apartment has been in my building all this time. Five bedrooms it has, five. He lives alone – what does he do with them all? In fact the only residential apartment I’ve seen that is more luxurious is the apartment Brad Pitt let me live in for that one week when I was a courtesan….the less said about that the better, although it was the catalyst that got Jake and I back together so I suppose I should thank him.
After half an hour of easy conversation, Mr. Fry finally gets onto the reason he really organised this dinner. At this point I don’t really care; he’s already served me a starter of deep fried brie and the mushroom risotto I’m currently eating is one of the creamiest I’ve ever tasted; clearly my landlord has a hidden talent.
“So you’re probably wondering why it is that I wanted to speak to you, Beau” I resist the urge to laugh; he’s never called me that in his life. He’s my landlord, of course he knows me real name. But I’m happy to play along. “Well, my reasons are two fold. The first is something you’re used to dealing with all the time. A good friend of my from my Cambridge days is turning fifty on Sunday. Poor soul also happens to be in the middle of his third divorce; however I happen to know from experience that his tastes are not purely restricted to the fairer sex. He needs reminding of the pleasures that come with lying with beautiful young men….if you catch my drift?”
“And you’re wondering if, in my professional capacity, I could appease that?” I smile in realisation.
“Exactly, and of course give him a birthday treat too. I’ve booked a hotel room from eight until ten on Sunday evening and have arranged for him to meet you there.” He passes me an envelope. “I think that should more than cover it.”
My eyes widen as I open the envelope to find nearly a grand in £50 notes. I look up at him in disbelief. “This is too much. Normally I get £400 for two hours work, and then Christian takes his 40%.”
“Christian? So that’s where you work” he answers.
“You know Christian?”
“I do, as a matter of fact I’ve recommended his agency to several clients of mine.”
“Wait a minute; you publish Gordon Noble, don't you?” I ask as the penny drops. That’s how he found the agency.
“Yes, why do you ask?” His brow creases in confusion at the seemingly random change of subject.
“Oh nothing!” I answer flippantly. “So you were saying that you know Christian’s agency?”
“More than just the agency. Lets just say back in the day, when he was a working boy and not the hot shot agent, I knew him very well……as in the biblical sense.”
“Believe me, the things that Christian did are not in the bible” I laugh. Some of the stories Christian has told me are scandalous enough to make even the likes of me blush.
“Yes, definitely the same person” Mr. Fry answered wryly. “But anyway, back to the money – I insist. You’ve been lining my pockets for the past four years; it’s about time I did the same. And I’m a firm believer that young creatures with your beauty and poise deserve all the finer things in life.”
“Thanks” I blush slightly as I take the money. I realise that this is the first time he’s overtly referred to what I do for a living. “So what else is it that you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Ah yes. Well, as you probably know as well as property I’m involved in publishing, quite a large publishing house if I’m honest.” Publishing? Okay I have absolutely no idea where he’s going with this. “Do you remember yesterday when we passed in the hall; you were in a hurry and ended up bumping into me? Well in your haste you forgot this.”
He reaches under the table to reveal my latest diary; the front cover filled with random doodles and the pages curled from being well used. I was so happy to see Jake yesterday that I hadn’t even noticed it was gone. And we spent the rest of the night doing…..stuff, so I didn’t have time to write.
“Now of course I don’t make a habit of invading people’s personal belongings, but whenever I see you you’re always scribbling away and sadly my curiosity got the better of me. You’re very…frank, and honest. And very witty. But what struck me most is that you appear to have quite a talent. You have a way with words and I think you could take this further.”
My fleeting anger at Mr. Fry for reading my diary is short lived; now all I feel is disbelief. “Take it further? How do you mean?”
“Memoirs such as yours have been selling extremely well of late. And as sex becomes more common place and less taboo, people are less easily shocked. The public are crying out for something like this; fresh, current and extremely funny. I firmly believe that we could turn your diaries into a book.”
“A book?” I repeat incredulously. “No, I don’t think you understand. My diaries, they’re just….rambling thoughts. No one would want to read that. And I’m a prostitute, I’m no writer.”
“Now let’s not get ahead of ourselves, it would definitely need a bit of work to make it flow better and correct some of the spelling and grammar. But I’ve been in the publishing business for twenty five years and I know a best seller when I see one. This could make you very famous, not to mention very rich.”
Mr. Fry stares at me intently as I try and process this new information. I’ve kept a diary ever since I started escorting; it was useful to document what went on with clients and when I’d had a bad day I found it therapeutic. I just got into the habit. Never had I imagined it would turn into something more.
“There’s no need to make a decision right now, but have a think about it. Of course if you want to go ahead then we can keep your identity a secret, call you Beau or even come up with a different nom de plume. And it goes without saying that we need to change the identity and descriptions of all your clients. But all that is secondary. All you need to know right now is that you have the makings of a very talented and successful writer.”
I can’t help but smile in wonder at the praise. It was something I have always thought about, but then I’d remember that this was the real world, not my imagination. But maybe I was too quick to shoot myself down. Me, a writer? Fancy that.
****************************
Now I know in theory I no longer work weekends, but that amount of money for two hours work is nothing to scoff at, particularly when Christian isn’t getting any commission. And if Mr. Fry honestly thinks he can turn a country lad turn party boy turn high class escort into a published author then it’s the least I can do. I haven’t mentioned it to Jake yet, not until I know for sure what I want to do. As far as he’s concerned the dinner was only concerned with organising tonight for Mr. Fry’s friend Hugh.
I’m just lubing up when I hear someone coming down the corridor, and realise I have to hurry. Being caught with one leg on the bed and my fingers up my arse is not what I call making a good first impression. I quickly withdraw my fingers and wipe them on some tissue, before pulling open the cord on my knee length black satin robe and climbing onto the bed, reclining against the many pillows so that I’m fully on display to him. Not to blow my own trumpet, but if this doesn’t get him back into male company then nothing will.
I smile seductively as I hear him fumble with the door, until he finally manages to get it open and walks into my line of vision.
“Oh my God Orlando!” As I hear him call my name, it’s like in slow motion as he covers his eyes and turns his back on me.
“Uncle Hugh? Oh shit!” I curse at this latest turn of events. Obviously Mr. Fry knows all the closeted homosexuals in my family. Well, maybe family is a push. Hugh Laurie is a long time friend of my dad and one time business associate before the fraud. He’s one of those people who isn’t related to you but you have to refer to them as your Uncle or Aunt as a mark of respect.
“For the love of God, cover yourself up!” he yells even though he can no longer see me. “Are you covered up?”
“Yes” I whine sheepishly as I tie cord around my waist once again, pulling the hem of the robe in a vain hope that it will reach past the top of my knees. It feels like I’m five years old again and he’s reprimanding me for scratching his car with my tricycle.
“Thank God” I hear him mutter under his breath as he finally removes his hands from his eyes. “What are….I mean why are you here?”
“Why do you think?” I ask dejectedly.
“I don’t know! All I know is my friend Stephen told me to come to this hotel room at 8 o’clock and waiting for me would be a very special birthday surprise.”
“Yeah, I’m that surprise.” I sigh. He probably hasn’t yet put two and two together, as far as he knows I’m still a night time interpreter. “I’m an escort now.”
“Oh” is all he can say as he sits down on the bed, hugely embarrassed. “That’s…..new. Does Harry know?”
“Yeah, and Sam and Matt know too. But Mum doesn’t know yet. Dad was going to tell her but I haven’t heard anything yet so either he hasn’t found the right moment or she’s too appalled to even speak to me. Anyway, I need you to….”
“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on mentioning this to anyone” he reassures me fervently.
I nod curtly in understanding, unable to look him in the eye. “I didn’t even know you were gay.” I say softly, although I have a feeling that his sexuality isn’t the biggest surprise here.
“I’m not!” he’s quick to say, before relenting slightly. “I mean….that was a long time ago.”
“I wish I’d known” I add cheekily. “I had such a crush on you when I was a teenager.” Since Dad and Uncle Hugh parted ways our contact with him has been somewhat limited. He moved back to London and now we only see him once or twice a year, sometimes even less. He was at Alfie’s christening the other week, and that was the first time I’d seen him in over three years. He’s starting to show his age now, unsurprisingly since he’s had three wives, but still has that rugged handsomeness that I remember.
“Don’t say things like that” he admonishes, shaking his head. It’s true; this isn’t exactly the situation you want to find yourself in, with the child of your one time business partner, someone whose nappy you’ve changed and to whom you’ve given piggy backs after going on a long walk. But I’ve slept with enough men to recognise even the barest hint of desire when I see it. “This is wrong.”
“Why’s it wrong?” I ask, walking closer to him and sinking to me knees. “I’m twenty seven years old. I’ve been with many men before you and will be with many men after you. What’s the problem with two consenting adults engaging in a bit of sexual fun?” I whisper the last part in his ear huskily, smiling triumphantly when I see a visible shiver pass over his body.
“I can’t fuck someone who I’ve known since he was born!” Uncle Hugh insists, but already his resolve is crumbling, particularly as my hands reach down to unzip his fly. “This is bordering on paedophilia!”
“Fuck off” I tell him flippantly, eyeing his impressive length greedily as I pull it from his trousers. Not that I make a habit of telling clients to fuck off, but as you by now know we’re already well acquainted. “I know you want me, don’t deny it. But no one’s trying to suggest you wanted me when I was a child. If you did then we’d have more problems than you just being a friend of my father’s.”
“Oh God” he groans as I begin licking the head of his cock, only for him to pull me up roughly by the curls after a few moments. “I need this, so much. But I can’t do it like this, not when I look down and see that trademark head of curls and realise that Harry Bloom’s little boy is giving me a blow job.”
I sigh in annoyance, thinking for a minute before trotting over to the wall to turn off the light so that the room is almost in darkness. I can still see him, but not so much that I can make out any distinguishing features. If I’m honest this does feel a little awkward, but I’ve been paid to do a job and this is what my job is. “You can call me Beau if it makes things easier. Doesn’t make a difference to me, I spend half my life pretending to be someone else.” In fact despite Dad and sister now knowing about my job, I still feel that Jake is the only person who knows the real me.
I take off my robe and toss it onto the pillows; it’s not light enough for him to see everything, but he’ll get the picture. I take his hand and guide him over to the bed, dragging him down on top of me as I pull him into a kiss. Soon he’s reciprocating, his hands roaming tentatively over my body as he reacquaints himself with male flesh.
“Oh yeah” I groan appreciatively as his questing hands ghost over my sensitive nipples.
“Don’t talk!” he instructs sharply as he tries to convince himself that he’s just in bed with some nameless hooker. I bite my lip to shut myself up as his calloused fingers continue to map the contours of my body, and I thrust up as his caresses creep dangerously close to my cock. “You always were a little vamp, pure temptation ever since you were sixteen. I always said you were sexualised far too young. Walking around topless in those tiny little shorts, always ‘accidentally’ dropping things so you could bend over, and brushing past me a little too closely when he passed each other. You knew exactly what you were doing. And the way you would pout those lips, or pucker them when you’d suck on an ice lolly, it was pure sin!”
“Uncle Hugh!” I cry out in pleasure as his skilful hands finally wrap around my cock, only for him to snap his hand back like he’d just stuck it into a fire. That’s when I realise what I’ve just said; what a fucking idiot! He’ll have a hard job pretending I’m someone else if I call him that.
“I can’t do this” he sighs as he hurries to climb off of me, facing the window as I sheepishly pull on my robe.
“I’m sorry” is all I can say. It isn’t much, just two little words. But honestly, what else can I say?
“It’s not your fault” he insists, still not looking at me. “I don’t care how old you are; I’m always going to be the grown up. I should have left as soon as I saw you lying there naked. Apparently at fifty you lose all the judgement you’d built up when you were forty nine.”
I hastily find my clothes, pulling them on in the dark and running my fingers through my hair as I turn the light back on, smiling weakly as he turns back round, seemingly more relaxed now he’s seen me back in my baggy jeans and a t-shirt.
“That’s better” he decides, sitting back down on the bed. “That’s our little Orli.”
“It was me all along” I shrug, unable to keep from blushing. Beau may be the brash, confident and tough young man that I made him to be, but without the façade of his attitude and his clothes I’m a different person. “But sometimes it’s nice to pretend.”
“Forget about the real world for a while” he concurs.
“Until someone goes and blows it by calling you uncle.” I respond guiltily.
“I should never have put you in that position” he says with a hint of self loathing. “But I guess some people are into that?”
“More than you’d think” I laugh despite myself, feeling the tension alleviate a bit. I fumble in my pocket until I find a rather creased business card and hand it to him. “I understand why you couldn’t go through with it, really it’s a good job you stopped it before it went too far. To think you would ever actually fuck me was a classic stupid idea of mine. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t other escorts. That’s my agency. We’re discreet, reputable and one of the best in all of London.”
“Thanks” he face colours as he puts the card into his shirt pocket. “I’ll bear that in mind.”
“Ben’s good, he really looks like me if that’s what you’re into. Or Jenson, he’s really talented, or so I’ve heard. Just don’t ask for Beau. Or Jude.” I add as an afterthought. There’s no way I want Jude profiting from this. I don’t want Jude profiting from anything.
“About the money….”
“Oh yeah….I guess I owe your dear friend a refund.”
“No!” he instructs vehemently. “Keep it. If he asks either of us then it was most satisfactory and I’m very grateful, in fact I was so impressed that next time I’m going to see what other delights the agency has to offer. If you give him the money back then I’ll have to explain, and I’m too mortified, not to mention he would never let it go, it would be the type of story he tells at dinner parties and book launches.”
“Okay, we have a deal” I chuckle light heartedly. “And after we leave this room, even next time we’re along together, we never speak of it again.”
He nods in agreement as I start packing my bag, thankful that he isn’t paying attention I stuff my holdall with lube, condoms and dildos. He turns to me as I go to leave. “I hope you continue to enjoy you work as an interpreter.”
I smile politely back at him. “I’m sorry to hear about your divorce. I’ll put word around that you’re on the look out for another young lady.”
Sometimes you just have to pretend.
****************************
“Baby?” I call out as I arrive back at my apartment, knowing that Jake is here waiting for me and eternally grateful that I didn’t run in to Mr. Fry on the way up. I purposefully took the stairs in order to avoid him since I shouldn’t even be here for another hour. “Jakey? I’m home and I’m horny so you’d better be naked and in bed waiting for me.”
“What’s this?” I yelp in surprise as he suddenly emerges from my bedroom holding Christian’s video camera and already filming if the flashing red light is any indication.
“Shit you scared me” I breathe, my heart beating fast in my chest. “Fancy yourself as a bit of Spielberg to you Jake?”
“Care to explain the camera? This isn’t the one I helped pick out for you last year; much more expensive. Can you even operate it?”
“Oh, one of Christian’s hair brain plans” I wave my hand flippantly as I walk past him into my personal bedroom. “Wants us to film little sex snippets to post on the website.”
“How very Pamela Anderson” he scoffs.
“I said Paris Hilton, but that’s just as good” I sigh as I flop down on the bed. “When was it ever a good idea to have a sex tape posted on the internet?”
“You’re forgetting one important thing, Love.” Jake joins me on the bed, shutting the camera for the moment. “You’re not famous.”
“I could be famous” I say begrudgingly, choosing not to mention Mr. Fry’s offer.
“Name one famous prostitute!”
“Mary Magdalene!” I exclaim triumphantly.
“I’m Jewish, that girl is nothing to me” he jokes.
“Heather Mills” I suggest.
“Maybe, although I think that was before she was famous.”
“That’s debatable” I respond wryly. “Okay then, what about Julia Roberts?”
“No, she played a prostitute” he says slowly as if I’m quite simple. “Julia Roberts is an actor.”
“Yeah but you know me, the lines between real life and make believe are a little blurry” I remind him in a sing song voice.
“One of your many problems” Jakes grumbles in mock irritation before claiming my lips in a deep kiss, causing me to moan when I realise that I never did get to come. “Your ridiculously high libido, that's less of a problem.”
Now it’s Jake’s turn to yelp as I pull him on top of me with lightening speed, opening my legs and pulling him to lie between them as I press my hardness up against him in need.
“Wow, never known you to be this keen so soon after you’ve been working” he raises his eyebrows in surprise as he presses back against my rock hard shaft. “I’m pretty flattered, Sweetheart.”
“I’m always hard for you” I admit honestly, gasping as he cups my through my jeans. “But tonight was a bit of a non starter so I’m doubly hard – I’ll explain later.”
I whine pitifully when Jake suddenly climbs off of me, effectively robbing me of his comfortable, familiar weight, not to mention the delicious friction. I’m appeased somewhat when he strips off his t-shirt before picking up the video camera and turning round to me suggestively. “Care to make things more interesting?”
“Always” I grin back, loving the way he thinks. I wonder if it’s dating a prostitute that’s brought on this new found sense of sexual adventure, or if it’s just that his tastes have matured. Maybe it was there all along; I just suffocated it the last time around.
I wait eagerly for Jake to set up the video camera, only for him to pull across a chair and sit down on it, appearing to make himself comfortable as he opens the camera once again. “Go on then.”
I raise my eyebrows in question, but start slowly stripping off my clothes nonetheless; if my boy wants a show, then he’s going to get one. “Never had you down as the voyeuristic type.”
“Me neither. But when we’re old and grey we should have something to remind us of how young and hot we were at one time.”
“You’ll forever be young and hot to me” I say fondly once I’m fully naked, looking into the lens of the camera intently. I prop myself up against the pillows, planting the soles of my feet on the bed and spreading my legs wide, causing Jake to groan in desire before I’ve even done anything. Never looking away, I run my fingers slowly down my chest, scraping gently with my nails and pinching my nipples until they peak. My nipples have always been particularly sensitive, a fact that Jake enjoys exploiting, and I moan extra loudly as they’re stimulated; I am on camera after all.
Jake continues filming, but I can tell by the way he’s shifting uncomfortably that my little display is already getting to him, and I reckon his jeans feel excruciatingly tight at the moment; I haven’t even got to the good stuff yet. His wriggling increases as my hands trail the rest of the way down my torso until I’m lightly stroking my cock with one hand, using the other to gently roll my balls around my palm. Is it wrong to try and make your boyfriend spontaneously combust?
By the time my fingers reach my waiting hole Jake has resorted to grasping his own cock through his jeans, and I can hear him curse under his breath when I finally push inside, shifting my position so that my legs are even wider and I’m even more on display.
“God Jake” I groan dramatically, closing my eyes as I finger myself languidly. “That’s it…right there….”
“Fuck this.” I open my eyes, and as expected Jake has given up, no longer content to just watch. He fiddles with the camcorder a bit, grabbing a few books to position it on before diving onto the bed for a bruising kiss. “Never could just sit by and watch.”
Our fingers tangle in each others’ as we both fumble to get his fly undone and his jeans off. I can’t help but laugh as he wriggles free of the denim to reveal that he’s going commando; clearly dating a whore is rubbing off.
“I love you so fucking much” he whispers almost violently as he grips either side of my face. Then he’s gone, his face against my chest as he licks a wet path all the way from my neck to my crotch, paying special attention to the three inch scar that now runs along my abdomen.
“Love you too” I groan, unable to stop myself from raising my hips slightly, encouraging him to take me into his mouth. Then he does something even better. Grabbing hold of my thighs, he presses them up to my chest gently but insistently, silently instructing me to hold them up before bending back down and hesitantly running his tongue up the crease of my arse until he reaches my hole.
“Oh shit!” I cry out as I feel Jake’s breath on me, his tongue circling my entrance and lapping gently before stabbing insistently inside. Jake was never into rimming before, in fact I think he found it a little icky. But now, with his face pressed so close to my arsehole that he could crawl inside me, he’s eating me out like it’s his last meal. “God baby, don’t stop!”
It seems that whatever Jake does, he knows how to drive me crazy and all too soon I feel my orgasm building up inside me. I press myself even further against him and fist my cock for all it’s worth and then only seconds later I’m coming hard, screaming his name until I relax into a satiated puddle. It’s not until then that he manages to tear himself away from my arsehole. He’s always been fond of my arse, but not this fond!
“Don’t you dare fall asleep on me” Jake teases as he crawls back up the bed and indulges me in a lazy kiss. The location of his mouth only moments earlier barely even registers, even when I taste myself on him; as you can probably imagine there are very few things that gross me out.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, especially not when we’re on camera” I promise, well aware that my boy is yet to find any form of release. He rolls over until we’re lying on our sides, facing each other.
“So what’s it to be?” he asks mysteriously, nodding towards the camcorder. “Are we…..David and Jonathan? Achilles and Patroclus? Alexander and Hephaestion? George Boleyn and Sir Francis Weston? Oscar Wilde and Lord Alfred Douglas?”
“What’s this, Jake’s guide to homosexual couples throughout history?” I laugh, running my fingers through his hair as I place a chaste kiss on his forehead. “Now here’s a crazy idea; how about, I be Orlando, and you be Jake. No George Boleyn, no Oscar Wilde and certainly no Beau. Just….us.”
“Just us” he repeats with a loving smile, his eyes never leaving mine as he fumbles in the bedside drawer with one hand for the lube. The room is dimly lit; the only light coming from the reading lamp over on my desk, but the way it hits him, illuminating his fair skin in all the right places….it’s enough to take my breath away. People have always said, both now and the first time round, that I’m the better looking of the two of us, that he’s a very lucky guy. Of course all that goes over Jake’s head, he’s never been caught up in outer beauty, not even when we were silly, shallow teenagers. Regardless of that, those people, every last one of them, would be forced to eat their words if they could see him right now.
“Got it!” Jake exclaims victoriously when he finally lays his hand on the tube. “Slippery little bugger, but I guess that’s the point. Non slippery lube would be like…I don’t know, dry water or cold fire.”
His brows creases in confusion as I laugh softly to myself; and people have the audacity to say that I babble! “What is it?”
“Nothing” I shrug, shaking my head. “You’re just so….perfect.”
We share a tender kiss, his unquenched need and my resurfacing need momentarily forgotten.
“You know what I love?” he asks as we pull apart. “I love that, it doesn’t matter that you sleep with other men on a daily basis. I’ve only recently realised, but I know now that no matter what you do during the day, I’m the only person in the world who you look at like that.”
“That’s because I belong to you, despite what others may think” I remind him matter of factly. “And you to me. Of course that means you have to keep me in an endless supply of orgasms.”
“Honey, that is not an issue” he practically growls as we slam our mouths together messily. My legs fall apart as Jake’s hand urges my thighs open and two lubed fingers find my still sensitive entrance. The tongue fucking he gave me only a few minutes previous means that he can easily slip the digits inside, counting my passage liberally before quickly withdrawing. He’s come to realise that I can now take him inside with very minimal preparation, but he likes to do it anyway. There’s something very intimate about having his fingers inside me, mainly because only a handful of clients are ever interested in that, and also because it’s the same fingers that hold me when I sleep, that trace away the worry lines on my forehead and that ran through my hair to comfort me when I was sick and in pain. It’s the touch of a lover, not just a sexual partner.
I hold out my hand and flutter my eyelashes playfully until he takes the hint and squeezes a dollop of the gel onto my fingers. Before greasing him up, I can’t resist pushing him backwards so that I can take his cock into my mouth, sucking greedily.
“Yeah Lan” I hear him sigh, his hands massaging my scalp through my curls. He thrusts up once, then twice, before pulling me back up gently. “Alright Hungry Horace; if you keep that up then this is going to be over very soon.”
“But this is mine” I whine in mock petulance as I quickly lube him up, holding his cock tight to emphasise my point. I look back up at the camera seductively; I’d almost forgotten that it was there. I jump off the bed, flipping the bird at Jake as he wolf whistles and grab the camera to move it into a more…..optimum position, checking the screen to make sure it’s going to catch the money shot. Then I climb back on the bed, encouraging Jake to recline against the headboard with his feet flat on the mattress so that I can straddle his waist, his hands coming to rest on my hips of their own violation. As I take hold of his slippery erection and press it against my entrance, I gesture to the camcorder; the recording is going to catch everything, including the moment my boy penetrates me, and the look on both our faces as I envelope him inch by inch.
“Fuck, how is it that you’re still so tight after all this time?” Jake groans as I touch bottom, revelling in the feel of his balls brushing against my arse.
“Athlete’s muscle” I tease, leaning down for a brief kiss before Jake urges me to move, guiding me on his cock as I rotate my hips. I allow him to determine the pace, quickly settling into slow, languid movement, rising up and down on my thighs to add that extra stimulation. This position had many surprising advantages, I decide as Jake leans forward to take one nipple between his teeth, biting gently just the way I like it. He looks up at me as my hands tangle in his hair, and I see so much love and lust there in his eyes that it’s almost enough to make me come on the spot. I stare back at him mischievously, sucking a finger into my mouth in an obscene manner before leaning back, my questing fingers searching blindly until I find the entrance to Jake’s body. I manage to manoeuvre myself enough that I can press into him, the pair of us groaning simultaneously as the extra contact makes him thrust up almost violently, hitting my prostrate with enough force to make me my entire body spasm.
The red light that indicates the camera is recording is ever present in the dimly lit room, but that doesn’t distract us. The moans and pants of pleasure that feel the room are real and not put on or exaggerated in the slightest. How porn stars ever thought that the fake sounds they make are realistic, I’ll never know. Anyone who’s ever had great sex is well aware of when something is just there for show. Tiny whispers of real lust are so much more erotic than overzealous cries of filth. Thinking about it, I really hope I don’t sound like that myself when I’m with less than skilful clients! I hear Jake chanting my names continually under his breath; there’s something else you never hear in commercial porn; names. Jake has many names for me, and I can hear every last one of them.
“I’m gonna come!” I gasp as Jake’s cock is now continually hitting my sweet spot, each time more pleasurable than the previous as he gradually loses control. I clench my internal muscles, wanting us to come at the same time and hoping that will do the trick. Jake lets out a guttural groan as I do, taking the hint and removing his hands from my waist for the first time since he entered me to fist my weeping cock. It takes only three or four knowing tugs for me to come hard, crying his name as I feel him spill inside me only seconds later, calling out in ecstasy.
“Wow” I gasp when I begin to regain my composure. I bend over to claim a satiated kiss from his swollen lips, placing my palms on either side of his head and purposefully ensuring that he stays inside me, at least for the time being. “I know that this is the real world, and we’re not porn stars or anything. But Baby – that was the performance of a lifetime!”
And speaking of porn stars, a few days later that’s exactly who we’re confronted with. Curled up in our favourite chair, we play our much-loved game of ‘taking the piss out of the adult channel previews.’ It would be quite the turn on, that is if made for T.V porn wasn’t the unsexiest thing on the planet. Instead I’m content to just sit here with Jake sprawled in his usual haphazard manner across my lap, munching on freshly popped popcorn in our pyjamas.
“Oh my God what is that on her crotch?” Jake exclaims in disgust as another naked woman appears on the screen with the most bizarre looking pubic hair I think I’ve ever seen. “That makes her pussy look like Hitler! Man I’m so glad I don’t sleep with women anymore!”
“Me too!” I agree, throwing pop corn at the screen until the preview changes to two butch guys going at it.
“Look at that, he’s not even hard!” Jake calls out incredulously, pointing at the bottom’s flaccid cock. “Why do they do that? Put straight guys in gay porn?!”
Jake’s right; the guy certainly doesn’t seem to be enjoying it. “And is that an American high school gym they’re supposed to be in?” I ask, this time letting Jake throw the pop corn. “That’s not exactly realistic, they look about ten years older than us, let alone sixteen year olds.”
Jake sniggers in agreement, shifting in my arms to look up at me. “Do you know what I was doing before you got back from work? Editing our own porno.”
I cock my head in interest. Jake’s already shown me the video that we made for Christian to put on the website, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about the ‘main attraction.’ “Care to have a look?”
***********************************
Two hours later and we’re vegged out in bed, Jake snoring lightly next to me in sated bliss. Apparently the finished product of the video ended up even steamier than either of us had imagined, resulting in a marathon session in the bedroom. Jake has to be up in five hours, so no one can blame him for falling asleep. I on the other hand don’t have an appointment tomorrow until lunchtime, and didn’t get up until 10am today. There’s something bugging me anyway, so I don’t know if I’d be able to sleep even if I was exhausted. I can’t put my finger on what it is, but it’s been playing on my mind even since my unfortunate encounter with Uncle Hugh. It’s just weird I guess; I’ve known him all my life and never suspected that he might be gay, or at least bisexual. I imagine it must be similar to what it was like for my boy finding out I was an escort, only he wasn’t my boy back then. I wonder if it was like me, that on some level he’s relieved that I know, at least that’s one less person who doesn’t know the real Hugh. Living a lie is hard; I know that better than anyone.
Placing a chaste kiss on Jake’s temple, I manage to extricate myself from his hold without waking him before climbing out of bed and sitting at my desk. Jake’s left me two copies of the video clip there for me to take into work for Christian to put on my web profile. Holding one copy in my hand idly, I take a pen and piece of paper, and without thinking, start to write.
Hugh,
Hiding who you really are is difficult, but I can be whoever you want me to be. Put this into your DVD player, press play, and let go. Just escape reality for a while, and pretend I’m someone else.
Yours, Beau
I think for a moment, and then decide that this is the right thing to do. His one experience with an escort and he nearly had a heart attack, I’ve probably put him off for life. I fold the piece of paper and alongside the DVD pop it into an envelope, quickly checking my address book before writing it down and sealing the envelope.
For some people the only place they can be truly happy is in their imagination, for others true happiness only exists on screen. I’ve found true happiness, and funnily enough I’ve found it in real life. Still, that doesn’t mean I live in the real world, my life isn’t what you would call ‘typical,’ or even believable – I’m a high class prostitute earning thousands of pounds a week, in a serious relationship who now has a potential book deal. But who says we have to live in the real world? This little bubble Jake and I have created for ourselves, I’d take that over reality every time.
TBC |
