Beneath The Red Panties

It had been a long night. From the penthouse of the London hotel, Channel looked out over the city that she liked to think that she controlled now. It gave her no pleasure. All she wanted as to control the half-naked woman behind her in bed.

Brushing her dark hair behind her shoulder, Channel turned to gaze at said woman, her lips quirking a bit when she noticed the steady rise and fall of a lovely chest. Jean had been quite the challenge. It hadn’t mattered in the long run – escorts in London with Channel skills always won. But it was the chase of this one that had been far more exciting than anything in her job had ever been, and she wasn’t at all worried about the fact that she likely wouldn’t be getting any money for this one. She didn’t want any. Perhaps that had been what finally convinced Jean, but Channel wasn’t at all offended that it took something as petty as money to get them both here.

Making her way towards the bed, Channel paused to pick up a glass on the bedside table. She took a slow drink of the dark red wine, then lowered herself on the bed next to Jean, reaching out to drag her fingers down the expanse of pale, naked skin. What was it about this one that had made her fight so hard? She couldn’t say. Something had snapped, however, and Channel always enjoyed a good chase.

And if this were the last time she had the opportunity to do this, she was certainly going to make the most of it.

Channel placed the glass back where she had retrieved it from and bent down, latching her lips onto a pert nipple. It was hard not to, when all that Jean wore was a pair of red lace panties, and her breasts were laying open for the taking. She felt the small woman shift with a slight mumble, and took that as a hint that it was time to wake her. So, she sucked hard on the peak, thrilled when it hardened as she drew her tongue over it. She was even more thrilled when a sudden moan came from above her, and nimble fingers curled themselves into her hair.

“You sure don’t waste any time,” Jean mumbled from above Channel’s head. Channel released the captured breast with a gentle pop, then lifted her head to gaze down at Jean.

“Why should I? There’s a little something called escorts in London taking advantage of what you’ve been after when you have it.”

A flush crawled through Jean’s neck and up into her face. “It still doesn’t make sense that you’re doing this for no money,” she muttered. “I know it isn’t going anywhere outside of this.”

“I don’t always need money from a client,” Channel said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. The time for talking was finished. The escort climbed further into the bed, straddling the tops of Jean’s thighs and plunging her hand beneath the red panties in one motion. “Now tell me what you are,” Channel breathed into Jean’s ear as she bent down over her, her fingers moving slowly through surprisingly wet folds.

“A pet,” Jean said through a low groan.

“A pet?” Channel demanded.

“Your pet.”

It sounded strained and a bit embarrassed, but Channel would take it. Two fingers delved deep inside of wet walls, and she nearly moaned into Jean’s ear. She managed to catch herself before doing so. She had worked her arm into a rapid pace before her cell phone went off from her bag across the room, and Channel snapped up into a sitting position on Jean’s thighs and glared over at it.

She knew she couldn’t ignore it. With a huff of annoyance, she drew her fingers free and climbed off the bed. “Stay,” she ordered Jean, then headed across the room to dig out her phone.

Joan Sinclair.

“Shit,” Channel muttered, grabbing her robe and pulling it over her half nude form. She disappeared into the bathroom to talk to her newly highest paying client – her most possessive. If Joan found out she had blown her off that night for Jean, her money would go down the drain, and Channel would be lucky to ever get a client again.

It was a good thing Channel knew exactly how to play her clients.


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