soon earn enough money stripping to pay the bill.
We left the store and she stopped abruptly outside one of those spaceship-like public toilets, the sort that open with a push button at the side, and that I suspected were not often used for their true purpose.
‘You don’t mind, do you?’ she said, stepping inside and pushing the door-lock button before I had a chance to respond.
I stood outside, blushing furiously as I imagined her standing in the cubicle with her knickers rolled down to her knees, pushing a vibrator first inside her and then running the tip round her clitoris.
She was out of the toilet, smiling, within five minutes.
‘The flat one’s better,’ she remarked. ‘Want a go? I bought cleaner and wipes. And lube.’
‘No, I’m good, thanks,’ I replied, wondering what the people on the street would think if they could overhear our exchange. To my surprise, thinking of Charlotte masturbating in the toilet had turned me on. I wouldn’t tell her, but lubricant would certainly not have been necessary.
‘Suit yourself,’ she said breezily, popping the vibrators into her handbag.
Despite the broken violin in my case, and the ache in my heart when I thought of it, imagining Charlotte most likely naked at the other end of the telephone, her long, tanned legs spread out carelessly on the bed beneath the watchful gaze of Jasper, aroused me.
‘I’m good,’ I said falsely, and then told her what had happened in the station.
‘Oh my God! You poor thing. Come over. I’ll throw Jasper out of bed for you.’
She texted me the address and within the hour I was curled up on a swing seat in the living room of her apartment in Notting Hill, sipping a double espresso from a delicate porcelain cup and saucer set. Charlotte’s fortunes had definitely been on the up since I saw her last.
‘Dancing is going well, then?’ I asked her as I surveyed the spacious interior, polished wooden floors and large flat-screen television on the wall.
‘God, no,’ she said, flicking off the coffee machine. ‘That was awful. I didn’t make any money, and I got sacked again.’
She wrapped a finger round the handle of her own small mug and walked over to the sofa. I suspected that her now very long and dead-straight brown hair might be the result of extensions, but I was pleased to see that she still didn’t have fake nails. Charlotte was no shrinking violet, but she had class.
‘I’ve been playing online poker,’ she said, nodding towards the desk and large Mac in the corner of the room. ‘Made a fortune.’
A door opened down the hall and steam drifted out, presumably from the bathroom. A languid smile spread across Charlotte’s face as she watched my head turn in response to the sound.
‘Jasper,’ she said. ‘He’s in the shower.’
‘Have you been seeing each other long?’
‘Long enough,’ she replied with a grin as he sauntered into the living room.
He was one of the most handsome men I’d ever set eyes on. Thick, dark hair, still wet from the shower, lean thighs wrapped in loose-cut denim jeans, a short-sleeved casual shirt, all the buttons open to reveal sculpted abdominals and a fine trail of hair running down to his groin. He stood silently near the kitchen, towel-drying his hair with one hand, as if waiting for something.
‘I’ll just see the lovely boy out,’ Charlotte said to me with a wink, and pushed herself up off the couch.
I watched as she took out a wad of banknotes from an envelope resting on her bookshelf and pressed the bundle into his hand. He folded the wad over and slid it discreetly into the back pocket of his jeans without counting.
‘Thank you,’ Jasper said to her. ‘It’s truly been a pleasure.’
‘The pleasure is all mine,’ she replied, opening the front door and kissing him gently on both cheeks on the way out.
‘I’ve always wanted to say that,’ she said to me, dropping down onto the sofa again.
‘Is he an . . .?’
‘Escort?’ she finished
We left the store and she stopped abruptly outside one of those spaceship-like public toilets, the sort that open with a push button at the side, and that I suspected were not often used for their true purpose.
‘You don’t mind, do you?’ she said, stepping inside and pushing the door-lock button before I had a chance to respond.
I stood outside, blushing furiously as I imagined her standing in the cubicle with her knickers rolled down to her knees, pushing a vibrator first inside her and then running the tip round her clitoris.
She was out of the toilet, smiling, within five minutes.
‘The flat one’s better,’ she remarked. ‘Want a go? I bought cleaner and wipes. And lube.’
‘No, I’m good, thanks,’ I replied, wondering what the people on the street would think if they could overhear our exchange. To my surprise, thinking of Charlotte masturbating in the toilet had turned me on. I wouldn’t tell her, but lubricant would certainly not have been necessary.
‘Suit yourself,’ she said breezily, popping the vibrators into her handbag.
Despite the broken violin in my case, and the ache in my heart when I thought of it, imagining Charlotte most likely naked at the other end of the telephone, her long, tanned legs spread out carelessly on the bed beneath the watchful gaze of Jasper, aroused me.
‘I’m good,’ I said falsely, and then told her what had happened in the station.
‘Oh my God! You poor thing. Come over. I’ll throw Jasper out of bed for you.’
She texted me the address and within the hour I was curled up on a swing seat in the living room of her apartment in Notting Hill, sipping a double espresso from a delicate porcelain cup and saucer set. Charlotte’s fortunes had definitely been on the up since I saw her last.
‘Dancing is going well, then?’ I asked her as I surveyed the spacious interior, polished wooden floors and large flat-screen television on the wall.
‘God, no,’ she said, flicking off the coffee machine. ‘That was awful. I didn’t make any money, and I got sacked again.’
She wrapped a finger round the handle of her own small mug and walked over to the sofa. I suspected that her now very long and dead-straight brown hair might be the result of extensions, but I was pleased to see that she still didn’t have fake nails. Charlotte was no shrinking violet, but she had class.
‘I’ve been playing online poker,’ she said, nodding towards the desk and large Mac in the corner of the room. ‘Made a fortune.’
A door opened down the hall and steam drifted out, presumably from the bathroom. A languid smile spread across Charlotte’s face as she watched my head turn in response to the sound.
‘Jasper,’ she said. ‘He’s in the shower.’
‘Have you been seeing each other long?’
‘Long enough,’ she replied with a grin as he sauntered into the living room.
He was one of the most handsome men I’d ever set eyes on. Thick, dark hair, still wet from the shower, lean thighs wrapped in loose-cut denim jeans, a short-sleeved casual shirt, all the buttons open to reveal sculpted abdominals and a fine trail of hair running down to his groin. He stood silently near the kitchen, towel-drying his hair with one hand, as if waiting for something.
‘I’ll just see the lovely boy out,’ Charlotte said to me with a wink, and pushed herself up off the couch.
I watched as she took out a wad of banknotes from an envelope resting on her bookshelf and pressed the bundle into his hand. He folded the wad over and slid it discreetly into the back pocket of his jeans without counting.
‘Thank you,’ Jasper said to her. ‘It’s truly been a pleasure.’
‘The pleasure is all mine,’ she replied, opening the front door and kissing him gently on both cheeks on the way out.
‘I’ve always wanted to say that,’ she said to me, dropping down onto the sofa again.
‘Is he an . . .?’
‘Escort?’ she finished
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