For the Night: Complete Box Set (26 page)

I sat in the black taxi
and ran a finger along the inside of my black shirt collar and undid another
button. I was so excited to have been approached by Logan again. We’d worked
together on a number of occasions and each time he taught me something new. I’d
been a typical cocky, arrogant twenty year old when we first crossed paths,
thinking, given my age, my stamina would outlast his, I’d been sorely mistaken.
The man would put any Iron Man contestant in the shade. He had taken pity on me
and told me that every escort had to start somewhere and if I’d follow
instructions on any bookings, he would be happy to let me learn from him. That
just showed his self-confidence. Any other male escort would be threatened by a
newbie on the scene, not Logan. He’d already taught me so much in the art of
seducing a woman, rather than charging in and pounding them hell for leather.
He had told me some story about a tortoise and a hare; that had gone in one ear
and out of the other. What didn’t pass straight through were the tips and
pointers he gave me. I watched him with an eagle eye when he was one-on-one
with a client and I was taking a back seat, anything to improve my technique,
to make me as good as him.

It was lucky that my cock wasn’t adversely
affected being overshadowed by his. I’d never questioned my size, in fact Logan
was the first guy I had seen better hung than me. That may give some guys a
complex, but I was made of stronger stuff than that. Large as we were, I was
sure there were guys out there even bigger; there was always someone higher up
the food chain. Besides, if either of us were any more stacked, I doubted women
would want to fuck us for free, let alone to pay for it. One particularly tight
girlfriend I’d been with had to have stitches, as well as carry around a rubber
ring to sit on for a week, after our first time. From that moment on, I always
made sure my kit contained plenty of lubricant, as well as condoms. I looked at
the client file that Logan had sent over to me, to familiarise myself with the
plan for tonight and had to double-check the age of the woman in the picture.
No way was she forty-five. She looked in her early to mid-thirties, if that.
Talk about a hot cougar.

I want a ménage for the night. Two men, not
another woman and I don’t want it to be sleazy, rough or dirty. I want
something gentle, sexy and sensual. I’m not averse to being penetrated while I
have another in my mouth, but while I love the idea, I’m not sure I could cope
with double penetration.

I nodded, this was new. I’d never done a romantic
soft ménage before, always rough, raw and hard. Logan was the master at
seduction though. Then again he was the master in any situation, I’d have to
take my cues from him tonight. He’d instructed me to dress smart casual, which
to Logan meant a suit no tie. I was to take a seat at the bar, while he met the
client at the other end and then I was to follow them up to the suite, without
making it obvious we were together. One night’s cut from Logan was more than I
could earn on my own in probably five sessions or more and I needed the money.
I wasn’t just in this for the sex, much as I loved it. I had got into masses of
debt at University, too interested in partying hard instead of getting a job.
I’d also pretty much flunked out, which had been a serious wake up call. I
wasn’t unintelligent, just damn lazy, preferring alcohol and women to studying,
a choice I now regretted when I realised my career aspirations had been dashed
without the first class honours degree I’d needed. Sex was the only way I could
see of making myself enough money to pay off my debts and to try and start my
studies again. A few good years at this would set me back on the straight and
narrow. It would be great to command the sort of respect, reputation and fees
Logan did. I could pick and choose assignments around my degree coursework and
not have to fuck women I found it hard to
get
hard for. The phrase ‘lie
back and think of England’ seemed apt for me, only I didn’t have the luxury of
lying back.

I paid the taxi driver and strode through the
revolving doors, nodded at the doorman and made my way to the bar as
instructed. Ever the professional, Logan was already there, seated at the far
end, dressed in a light grey suit, white shirt and dark grey tie. He gave me a
discreet nod as he picked up his drink of choice; water, no ice with lime, and
took a swig. In the past I’d ordered non-alcoholic beer while on a job, but
Logan had told me that the smell of beer on a man’s breath was off putting to
some women, so I should stick to water or something sweet, like lemonade, to
leave no lingering odour or flavours. I didn’t smoke either. Men were as
objectified by women nowadays, as women were by men. We had to stay in great
shape and let’s face it, who wanted to be shown up by Logan bloody Steele? Man
of Steele more like. If Logan had auditioned for Superman, Henry Cavill would
have been out of a job. The only thing in my favour was my blond haired,
blue-eyed looks that some women went crazy over. At least that differentiated
me from him.

I ordered a sparkling water with ice and lemon and
took a seat as I checked my watch. Ten minutes until she was due to arrive. I
felt my cock twitch; the thought of having a woman that fit for her age was one
hell of a turn on. Then again, at my age, anything was a turn on. Everything
reminded me of sex. I was a constant walking erection, at risk of breaking my
cock by walking into tables or doors. My aroused state didn’t go unnoticed by a
group of girls in the bar, who were giggling and playing eye tennis between
Logan and me. I caught his eye and saw his lips lift at the corners, as he
shook his head. He was used to all the attention; it was like water off a duck’s
back. I on the other hand, loved it. I reached down, draping my hand between my
legs and squeezed myself slowly as I held one of the girls’ gaze, smirking as
she choked on her cocktail and went red. If I’d not been working, she’d have
been just my type and I might have booked a room, just to invite her up.

‘Mrs. Renshaw? May I come
in? I have a delivery for you.’

‘Of course,’ I called, as I sat at my dressing
table and applied my mascara. I turned and smiled as Anne, our housekeeper,
entered the master bedroom with a large white box tied with a red ribbon.

‘A gift from Mr. Renshaw?’ she enquired, as she
placed it on the bed.

‘Quite possibly,’ I nodded, as I tried to keep my
cheeks from flushing as I lied. I knew that it was from Logan. I’d had them
from him before.

‘What time will you be home tonight? Will you want
anything making?’

‘That’s so kind of you, but I’ll be fine, Anne. I
may be very late, in fact, I may stay out for the night.’

‘Going dancing again with the girls,’ she nodded
with a grin.

‘You’re too observant,’ I replied with a smile,
feeling awful that I had to keep up this deception. She was a good woman and I
detested lies, but sometimes they were a necessity. ‘Enjoy a night off, Anne.
You deserve it.’

‘And you deserve to have some fun. I don’t know
how you cope with Mr. Renshaw being away so often. If that was my husband I
wouldn’t be as tolerant.’

‘It’s his job. I knew that when we got married. He
works hard and provides well for me, I can’t complain.’

‘You’re too nice,’ she retorted with raised brows
as she made her way over to the door. ‘Enjoy your night out.’

‘I will,’ I nodded, not lying this time. Enjoying
a night with Logan Steele came with a guarantee. I sighed as she closed the
door behind her and put my head in my hands. I’d never wanted to be the sort of
woman who cheated on her husband, yet while David was the perfect provider, he
was lacking in so many other ways. I felt like I was just a façade, the pretty
wife who could attend his finance functions and stuffy dinners, someone to look
good on his arm and be able to hold intelligent conversations about the state
of the markets, political affairs and current world news. I should have known
when our sex life was less than inspiring during those earlier years, that he
was never going to be the passionate man I craved. He was good looking,
charming and attentive while he was pursuing me, and initially sex hadn’t been
too bad, but it had rapidly fizzled out the higher up the ranks he rose. He
rarely spent any time with me. When he did I felt like I was with a stranger
and he tried to make up for his absences with a new shiny bauble. I had an
entire section of my dressing room given up to jewellery boxes and drawers.
Beautiful as they were, I’d give up all of them, all of his wealth and
trappings, if it meant I could be the object of his affection, for him to crave
me, to not be able to get enough of me. I knew I paid Logan to be that way with
me, but I’d never felt more needed or desirable, than those sessions with him.
Not since I was a teenager and fell in love with my best friend.

I stood up, sliding my dressing gown off my
shoulders, looking at my naked body in the mirror. I was in great shape for my
age. We never had children. Even if he’d wanted children, the lack of sex would
have made that impossible. It had to have been eighteen months since he last
mounted me. And I use the term mounted for a reason. He was drunk and I was
there. He didn’t want me. I could have actually been anyone. A couple of
thrusts and it was over, then I had to roll him off me when he’d promptly
fallen asleep, oblivious to my lack of orgasm and tears. I’d forgotten what sex
could actually be like, until one of my friends had convinced me to email Logan
three years ago. My night with him had been an eye-opener, in more ways than
one. I was even beginning to question David’s sexuality; maybe he was gay and
he’d only married me for appearances. All I knew was that I was a sexual woman
and I was severely lacking. There was only so much a whole drawer of sex toys
could give you. Nothing could replicate a passionate kiss, skin on skin, the
heat generated between two bodies. I knew, given that I was paying for sex
every few months, my logic was slightly flawed, even more hypocritical, but by
paying Logan I felt the betrayal was slightly lessened. I wasn’t having an
ongoing affair. I wasn’t mentally or emotionally cheating. It was purely
physical. Something to scratch that unbearable itch every few months, an itch
my husband should be scratching. It wasn’t like I hadn’t tried talking to him
about it; every time I told him I was unhappy he would just buy me more jewels
and I’d end up buying another vibrator.

I headed over to the bed, undid the red ribbon and
lifted the lid of the box and smiled. Logan was always classy with his
deliveries. Wrapped in tissue paper was a beautiful red satin bra, the cups of
which were linked with pearls, then I caught my breath as I picked up the
matching red and pearl thong and felt myself clench at the thought of the cool
beads against my hot flesh. I carefully stepped into it, shimmied it up and
flexed my hips as the pearls nestled into place. Damn it, Logan. I’d never worn
a pearl thong. What was he trying to do to me? Have me come as I walked into
the bar? I did up the bra, never questioning how he knew my size. Logan was a
consummate professional; he knew everything he needed to know, for any
occasion. I nodded approvingly at the knee-length red lace dress with long
sleeves, surprisingly demure yet sexy at the same time and sat on the bed to do
up the red high-heeled shoes. I guessed red was a colour of passion and desire,
quite apt given my fantasy tonight.

I brushed my hair into a side ponytail, which I
draped over my shoulder, slicked on some clear gloss and headed to the dressing
room to grab an appropriate clutch, gasping at the sensation of the pearls
rolling against my clit and lips. If his aim was to get me wet before I saw
him, mission accomplished. The feeling was sensational. I headed downstairs,
more slowly than normal as I tried to adjust to the pearls rubbing against me
and rising higher into my flesh. I walked across the marble lobby and went into
the kitchen where Anne was making her dinner.

‘Mrs. Renshaw,’ she gasped. ‘You look stunning.’

‘Thank you,’ I smiled. ‘I’ll be heading out in a
while, I have my mobile on me if David calls here for me.’

‘
If
he calls I’ll let him know,’ she
replied with a slight shake of her head. I tried not to let on to the staff how
things were between the two of us, but she was too astute and had caught me in
tears once too often. She went to make a move as the doorbell rang.

‘Please stay put, it’s only my ride. I’ll probably
see you tomorrow.’

‘Have a lovely evening.’

‘I’m sure I will,’ I called over my shoulder, that
was a given. I opened the door to find Logan’s driver waiting for me with the
car door already open. I let out a slight mewl as I lowered myself into the car
and the pearls moved higher. They were firmly wedged in my groove, pressed
against my clit. When the engine started, the vibrations ran straight through
them and had me clench my teeth and close my eyes as pleasure coursed through
me.