Leigh – From Suzanne’s Interviews

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After twenty-odd years faithful service to the same company I arrived at our building one morning to find the place was locked and deserted, none of my fellow employees out on the street with me any wiser as to what had occurred than I. However, with the passage of time it became clear that our employer had grabbed what he could before skipping the country with all of our financial entitlements accrued over many years.

With the economic downturn I was, like many single mothers, unable to get a new job quickly and reliant upon welfare while eating into my savings. It was while picking up my younger daughter from school that I got into a chat with Wendy Fallon who, it transpired, had been made redundant about a month before I found myself unemployed. For a modest cash consideration I agreed undertake sitter duties for her kids and to collect them from school as she was trying a new occupation. She chose not to share the details of her work with me, but seemed much more animated and happy with her world when taking her kids from my place in the evening, so she was obviously enjoying whatever it entailed.

“She’s stuck with it then? The job I mean?” asked Cam Elmore when she saw me with Wendy’s children. “I thought she’d be too stuck-up to make a go of an occupation like that. Now she’s stuck up all the time.”

She laughed inanely at the joke she thought I was in on, but wasn’t. With my non-comprehending expression she suddenly realized that I didn’t get it, looking rather embarrassed at having said more than she should have.

“Forget I said anything, Leigh,” she whined. “It’s not important.”

“It obviously is,” I challenged her. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have said anything. You thought I knew, didn’t you?”

She nodded sheepishly. “I thought that because you were looking after her youngsters that she’d have told you. I can’t tell you. Ask her.”

Although I wheedled, cajoled and did everything else to prise whatever it was all about from her, Cam steadfastly refused to break her vow of secrecy to Wendy. That evening when Wendy called in to collect her kids, I asked her directly.

“Oh,” she squeaked. “I can see why you’d wonder. I wish Cam hadn’t such been a dumbo in assuming you knew, but hope I can rely on your confidence in this. The truth is that I’ve undertaken a job in a bordello to keep the wolf from our door. It’s not something I’d have tried voluntarily, but now that I’ve experienced it, I’m finding it a not unpleasant way to earn a living. Nothing like the horror stories one reads in the woman’s magazines about the exploitation by men and the shame I should feel at having fallen so low. I’m a whore, accepting that fact is important to me in ensuring that I have no misconceptions as to my present occupation. There’s nothing romantic about it, but I find it more pleasant than onerous. Does that shock you?”

It was my turn to squeak in surprise. Although I’d read of women wanting us to believe it was a morally legitimate occupation that one could really find rewarding, my view was still coloured by my mother’s disapproval those she describes as “putane”, together with the promise of hellfire for their sinning. I, along with all my friends, had read Xaviera Hollander’s book, finding the idea of being so morally free and easy exciting and worthy of envy by convent schooled girls. On growing older I’d come to see it as just a piece of erotic fiction as no woman could enjoy sex that much, I thought, although a couple of promiscuous sexual interludes in recent years made me wonder at the validity of that view.

“How…I mean…?” I stammered.

“Oh,” she interrupted my confused thoughts. “Cam knows a somebody who’s into it and got her to call me, as much for a joke as anything else as she was certain that it was the last thing I’d consider as an occupation. They were looking for a couple more ladies, it’s nice to be referred to in that manner, Suzanne insists upon it, so I looked in on the place to see if it was something I could do. I was nearly broke at that stage,so it would have to have been something pretty unappealing for me to knock it back. Because there aren’t any guys involved in the running of the place and all my potential colleagues were friendly and forthright about what they were doing, I felt welcome and went for it almost immediately. To me there was no hardship in having sex with a few blokes, in fact I rather enjoyed it, having been without for so long. And I average more than four times my salary as an executive PA. I’ve got money in the bank again and my mortgage is right up to date, so it wasn’t all too bad as a career move.”

“But you’d go back to your business career if the right job came along?”

“I’m so not sure about that at the moment. Who can we trust in the corporate world? I’d be everlastingly worried about the firm folding on me again. I’m now free from most worries and being well paid for my efforts, so I think I’d be a bit dumb to go back to all that, particularly in that I work shorter hours and fewer days to give me much more time with my brood. The other thing is that having been engaged in prostitution, someone could use that Şanlıurfa Escort knowledge to ruin any further business career by revealing it to my employer. Guys have no problem with using our services, but some seem to see us as lesser beings. Anyway I like things as they are right now.”

I nodded uncertainly. She had a point, from a philosophical perspective, but it was the reality of having sex for money that I had difficulty with, it just wasn’t me. I’d had a couple of unplanned sexual adventures which I’d enjoyed for no particular reason that I can think of, apart from a few drinks at last year’s Christmas party, when I had a quickie against the table in the boardroom with a much younger bloke. Then there was the good-looking, silver tongued chap at the garden centre whose eyes made no secret of what he desired to do with me, given any encouragement at all. It took only minimal flirting on my part to find myself accommodating his gorgeous cock within my inner sanctum. On recalling the matter, my eldest child, Pamela, had remarked on my happy mood for some time after those two events, so they had seemed to have done me some good.

After a month or so it became clear that nobody was ready to employ me with my history with a single firm, particularly one that had gone under in the odd circumstances my former employer had done. There seemed to be some suspicion of criminality by association in my case and there were so many equally qualified young women ready to step in without the expectations or habits I might bring to the job. One morning I woke to find it cold, gray and wet. I dressed before getting the kids breakfast and seeing them off to school, but the idea of a day tramping the streets of the city and fruitlessly seeking interviews was more than I could bear, so I stayed in. For the first time I gave serious thought to what it would entail to make myself available to a man to satisfy his needs in a purely physical sense. Would it really be so hard to endure, or might I even find something in it for myself? I certainly did in the most recent cases of promiscuous sex I’d indulged in, although I hadn’t really expected to. Having been denied so much as a child I found it difficult to refuse someone asking for that which was within my ability to grant, without feeling guilty.

While I didn’t see myself as vivacious or confident as Wendy, I knew I at least had as good a body and looks as she and the others of my peer group whom I then knew to have undertaken sex work, so I felt no real embarrassment in that area with as much to offer physically. Perhaps I should just pretend to myself I was doing a quick, promiscuous freebie with the chap, I hadn’t come to terms with the term client yet, without there being any money involved.

Without thinking about it I’d phoned Wendy, hoping she’d be in as I knew she wasn’t at work that day.

“I think I might give it a try, you know, sex work” I told her without hesitation. “What do I need to know and who should I see about it.”

“You sound pretty positive about things, Leigh.”

“Well, I’ve come to realize that in my position I’m pretty well without a lot of options. I can’t even get a checkout or hash slinging job. Anyway it seems to be a more laid back position, if you’ll forgive the unintended pun, and a lot better paid for doing what comes naturally. The only thing worrying me is meeting someone I know, a man friend, or my kids finding out.”

“I know what you mean, but look at it this way. If you meet any bloke you know you’ll both be in the same boat. In the very unlikely event that a kid found out, do you think they’d believe it?”

“I suppose not…” I agreed, somewhat uncertainly.

“Okay then,” she laughed lightly, “I’ll pick you up in about a half-hour. You can have a look, try before you buy, so to speak.”

“What should I wear?” I asked

“Whatever you’ve got on now. Working attire is provided by the co-operative.”

Wendy took me to a suburban duplex in a street which showed no indication of life, empty driveways and only a few cars parked along the kerb beneath the street trees. Looking at me, but addressing my friend, a smiling older man asked,

“Who’s this then, a new recruit, I hope?”

“Forgive Neville,” Wendy said to me, but aimed at him. “A gentleman would never ask a question like that of a lady.”

Pretending to be hurt by that he sniffed, “Just trying to be friendly my dear lady. I do hope I get to see you back here again in the future.”

With a cheeky grin and a quick lift of his hat in salute, he walked away.

“Are they all like him?” I asked.

“They try to be, but Neville is a wag and a great raconteur, as well as a pretty good sexual performer. He’s been around the block a few times.”

“So why do they come here?”

“Most are widowers, either actual or de facto, you know, have wives whose interest in intimacy has long gone or are disabled. I guess we’re surrogate sex partners, although I can say that I’m genuinely fond of Neville and one or two others who patronize us regularly. I’ve run into him in the shopping malls, with the kids, and Şanlıurfa Escort Bayan he was the perfect gentleman, without any mention of how we met or our real relationship. Of course the children thought that he was lovely, and funny.

“You’ve never had any trouble in that regard?”

“No, none,” she smiled. “But I think I’m past caring now. I’m in control, I’m putting money away and I owe nobody anything.”

“No mortgage?”

“That was first to go, my first goal, a secure abode for my family.”

I nodded. “That would have been my first move, shelter for the family.”

The interior was pleasant enough, but what I thought of as kitschy, the decor my mother might have chosen. I was introduced to Suzanne, the manager, a truly lovely blonde woman a bit younger than me. We chatted briefly before taking a call and getting Wendy to show me the ropes.

There was a reception area with a young woman of about my daughter’s age with a telephone and appointment diary whose task was to make appointments. It seemed that most clients preferred to choose a partner in advance rather than to take pot luck on arrival at the place. Wendy explained that any of the ladies could decline a man by putting him on the list that the receptionist held to determine who was prepared to do and what with whom.

“Unfortunately we have a new receptionist starting tomorrow so we won’t be able to offer you a start there until she decides to move on to whatever she wants to do next.”

“I’d not even considered being a receptionist,” I told her. “I’m prepared to get to work with you, or at least give it a try. If I think about it I’d only procrastinate, so I’m ready to give it a whirl immediately, to see if I can make a go of it.”

“Are you on, Wendy?” Tessa the receptionist enquired.

“I wasn’t intending to, but I will be, in half a tick.”

“Is Ralph okay for twelve-thirty?”

“Yes, fine. Where’s Sue?”

“Here,” answered another from beyond the doorway.

“Leigh would like to try a new direction in life,” chuckled Wendy. “She’s rather keen to strike while the iron’s hot, so to speak. There’s room today with Charlotte and Liz absent, so?”

“Okay, Leigh, Wendy will get you set up and you can see how you cope.”

She took me to the dressing room and through into a bathroom with several shower cubicles and a long make-up bench with lighted mirrors.

“Shower time,” she announced, quickly wriggling out of her jeans and shirt before padding away naked into the shower.

I followed her lead and, upon emerging, found Tessa waiting. I found that I had no difficulty in dropping my towel in preparation for trying on a red outfit of semi-transparent lace negligee, thong and stiletto-heeled sandals and sheer, thigh high black stockings.

“Your twelve-thirty is here, Wendy. Ready?”

Wendy tripped out, apparently quite eager to fulfil her obligation, took the man’s hand and kissed his cheek in greeting and took him away along the hallway to a bedroom. It seemed that they were old friends as the affection they displayed for each other was obviously genuine, chummy more than truly romantic, but it gave me a comfortable feeling about the place and that I’d be able to cope with what was required of me, for that day at least.

Wendy returned to see her client out and change after a quick shower. Sue had seen to a client too and both women seemed relaxed and happy with their recent efforts to provide for their families. Sex work was clearly no chore to them and, I hoped, to me as I was close to broke. I realized then how my impecuniousness had given me an entirely new moral outlook and that the views I’d previously held on women turning to prostitution out of financial need were off the mark. There I was awaiting the first paying customer to sample my sexual wares, excitedly apprehensive, but not wishing to be anywhere else.

It was almost an hour before I heard Tessa saying that somebody wasn’t in that day, but that there was a new lady named Leigh who was waiting to see her first gentleman and would he be interested? He would, it seemed, so I felt excited at the prospect, not so much at having sex, but at being the kind of woman who could earn her fee for satisfying the customer. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, I thought, so I’d make a real effort to perform, although I was right out of practice.

Harry, my first client, was tall and well-mannered, about sixty years old and fit looking. He looked me over unselfconsciously, my costume displaying everything and I was glad I’d made the effort to keep myself in shape over the years, particularly the boob job.

“You’re lovely,” he murmured, boosting my self-confidence no end.

“Thank you kind sir,” I smiled happily. Tessa guided us to an empty bedroom where he demonstrated his familiarity with procedures by undressing and taking a shower before going over to the bedside lamp to display his erect dick for my inspection. Seeing nothing to worry me, I rolled a condom down over his jerking, veined shaft and led him to the bedside where he thrilled me by kissing my shoulder, pleased Escort Şanlıurfa that he found me desirable enough to be horny at first sight.

“What’s your pleasure?” I asked as he undressed me.

“I want to look at you, do you think that’s alright, not too pervy?”

“Your wish is my command,” I told him, although the idea of passively posing for his inspection of my physical charms made me feel a bit self-conscious.

He felt my boobs, kneading each in turn and twiddling and pinching the swollen pink nipples to excite me.

“Show me your pussy?” he asked and I perched on the edge of the bed and parted my knees widely.

He was quite taken by my shaved vulvar lips with just a little, trimmed muff on my pubic mound above. I allowed him to insert his fingers and to thrill me with his expert diddling of my clitoris.

“What’s your favourite position?” I enquired.

“Face to face, on our sides.”

I lay on the bed and embraced him, lifting his lower hip to allow room for my right thigh to slide beneath his waist, raising my left leg over his hip as he introduced his cock to my moist, vaginal adit. Lubricating its swollen pink knob in my oily slit, he pressed forward to slide fully within my passion pouch and thrill me again with the first penis my pussy had been acquainted with in a long time. He didn’t have a huge cock, quite modest in size in fact, but it filled my hungry honeypot very nicely. “Oh Harry, that’s lovely,” I sighed, uncertain as to the etiquette relating to speaking during sex while whoring.

“It certainly is,” he responded quietly, leisurely pumping my pussy with his pleasure pole.

His hands were everywhere, pinching my nipples, slapping my buttocks and diddling my clitty to heighten my pleasure, but he was clearly enjoying his stimulating me. Needless to say, I wasn’t exactly complaining either. Being paid to feel like that was an unexpected bonus in view of the fact that I’d thought, due to all those afore-mentioned horror stories in womens’ magazines, that prostituting oneself was a demeaning and degrading experience for a well raised lady. I then felt that I’d found an occupation that I might enjoy, or at least not be so completely repulsive as to adversely affect my self-esteem or my outlook on life

His thrusting became a mad gallop, gasping and grunting as his tool pumped foamy love-juice from my drooling cunt. I could feel the hot tingling of my approaching climax in my loins as I joyfully met his thrusting hips with mine, our bellies slapping loudly, excitedly urging him on to greater efforts.

“Oh Christ! Oh shit!” he groaned blissfully. “Here I come!”

With that he rammed deep within me and convulsed repeatedly with orgasm. In an instant I’d come too, seriously enjoying the pleasure I’d found with him in my first attempt at whoring. I understood then why the others had such a positive outlook about their new working life. Although it was a lifestyle they’d drifted into rather than consciously chosen, they’d found a way to make good money and have more time with their families, plus a bit of human intimacy, albeit very casual, perhaps preferable to women like me who could no longer afford to rely on male support.

Harry held me for a minute or two before separating from me. There was no feeling of the awkwardness I’d previously experienced in parting following casual sex, it just seemed the natural thing to do in the circumstances. He showered and dressed then headed off for a blokes’ afternoon with friends at his club.

“So how did you find it?” Suzanne enquired.

“Almost too easy, and, enjoyable as well,” I grinned.

“Yes, Harry is fun isn’t he, sexually unselfish too. He gets a buzz from giving pleasure.”

“It can’t always be that good.”

“No, unfortunately, but that’s the work part of the profession, where you earn your money, but it’s really up to yourself what you make of it. I find that being as accommodating as possible to my clients is most satisfactory to both parties in the transaction. You’re in the best position to make it fun for both.”

“Well I think I might just give it another try, just to see how suited to all this I really am.”

“The fact that you haven’t fled out the door after your first client says you didn’t find the experience entirely abhorrent. And you’re looking for a second now. I think you might be a good prospect to join the firm.”

I saw another client before leaving to pick up the kids. It wasn’t a good a session as I’d had earlier, but it wasn’t really unpleasant either. While I knew it wasn’t going to be a bed of roses if I was to continue in prostitution, it was the only prospect for making an income I had. The experience of the first day’s sexual encounters was reassuring to me in knowing that I had found the work to be much more agreeable than I’d imagined it would be before taking the first step. However, it turned out to be a much more rewarding and happier time of my life than I’d known over the years before that. After the first two clients it was no difficulty to me to service more as required by their demands, their usually respectful attitude toward me was lovely while I felt less restrained about flaunting my body to excite and encourage their physical performance. I felt that I was getting somewhere at last, paying off all my debts, buying a new car and being able to take my family on vacation for the first time.

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