That Will Turn Me On
I held my head up high as I walked down the High Street. Shops on either side bustled with tourists, locals and browsers alike. Some of these had been around for many years. The deli had been passed down from the previous generation and the antique shop was run by a man in his early seventies. He wore a cravat and was always well-dressed.
I turned into the next road, full of white stucco houses and the price tag increased a few hundred thousand pounds with each block I walked. This was prime territory. I opened the wrought-iron gate and up the steps. My client was inside. Bradley was in his forties and recently-widowed. His art collection looked like it should belong in the National art gallery. He had no appetite for a new wife or even for dating, but he wanted a discrete encounter every now and again and living in London escorts were in abundance.
The lounge was very tastefully furnished. The Thomas Lloyd chesterfield sofas were in tip-top condition and the wooded flor was clean and polished. Bradley wore moleskin trousers and a long-sleeved t-shirt; the most casual look I had seen so far. After three previous encounters, he’d proved to be gaining in confidence and assertiveness, but we went through an initial fifteen-minute ritual of drinking tea and eating a piece of sponge cake. I only take a small slice, but I guessed he did this out of respect of the fact I was a visitor to the house. Perhaps it made him feel less guilty about being with me for sex.
Routines and rituals were part of his life just like the escorts he frequented. He jogged early each morning, covering 8 kilometres in around a half-hour. I jog around 6 in that time! He ate muesli and fruit for breakfast and soup for lunch, followed by a nap. He tended to work most afternoons and evenings, being a night owl. It was late afternoon, and that was when Bradley started to feel horny. He liked the missionary position, so I guessed today would be no different.
In the bedroom, I undressed. It was the spare room again; sparsely furnished, but that was fine. I guess the marital bed would feel strange for him. I undressed slowly, unhooking my bra and taking it off. Bradley watched me standing up. He was naked already and enjoying the show. Like so many of my London clients he liked to watch me undressing and stroking myself. I would then remove my stocking from my suspender belt, rolling each one down my smooth legs
I was surprised when he told me to keep on the stockings and suspender belt. “Just take off your knickers; leave the suspenders on .That’ll turn me on. Then kneel up on the bed.”
Perhaps he was ready for a change in routine after all.