【INCLUDES MATURE SCENES, READ AT OWN RISK】
Sex worker and escort, Milan O'Dair, knows all about rich people. He knows they're arrogant and extravagant and the men stink of cigars, while the women adorn themselves in the rarest of diamonds. They lau...
My head was pushed into the pillow as the man's rough hand forced me down with one of his hands. My ass was arched off the bed as he buried his length 'deep' inside me at a furious pace as he shouted and grunted, using me until he was satisfied. I made sure to let some moans escape my lips to fake pleasure so he thought he was doing a good job, when in reality I could hardly feel his tiny penis.
I always made sure to stretch thoroughly before meeting a client, because you never knew if they were going to be small, like the man I was with right now, or massive. And sometimes the women liked to use toys, so I made sure to stretch before I met them too after learning from some mistakes I made earlier on in my career.
When the man finally reached his release, he pulled out of me and threw the condom onto the floor, not even tying it or putting it in the bin. The nasty bastard. I felt sorry for the hotel staff who might need to deal with that and considered throwing it in the bin myself, if I could without him noticing.
The man I was with was maybe in his late thirties, but the years hadn't been kind to him with his receding hairline and beer belly. He tried to compensate for his lack in good looks with expensive suits to show off his wealth, like the one he wore earlier before he promptly took it off to fuck me with no restrictions. He had a gold tooth and tacky looking, chunky rings with diamonds inlaid in them, which I had to remind him to take off before he put his fingers inside of me.
We were currently in a five-star hotel where the man had treated me to lunch before he took me to the room he had rented out for the day. I pretended to flirt with him because it always added to a client's experience and occasionally resulted in me getting a nice hefty tip, on top of the fee I was making them pay anyway.
"So... how much do I owe you again?" the man asked me. I always waited for the client to bring up payment when they were ready for me to leave.
"£700," I replied. This was a quick lunch and sex deal; if it was just sex then I would have charged £500. If I were to escort someone to an event, like I had planned for later tonight, then I would charge upwards of £2,000 if sex was involved, if no sex then it was an upfront cost of £1,500. When I worked with people from an elite class, I had the means to set my prices high, but I tried not to make them too high – in their eyes – so that when they gave me extra money, they felt like they were being generous out of the goodness of their heart.
The man got out of bed as I sat up and went to fetch his suit trousers off the ground where his wallet rested in one of the pockets. His hair had gotten greasy now from all the sweat he perspired during our 'strenuous' activities, and now had locks sticking to his forehead.
"Here, have a little extra for being a good boy," he said throwing me many £100 notes. I knew the flirting would work. I smiled sweetly at him and gave him a quick 'thank you' before putting on my clothes and getting out of there in a hurried manner that wasn't too hurried that it came across rude.
When I made it back to my apartment, I decided to do a bit of painting before getting ready to meet my next client. I was meant to be meeting a woman called Victoria, who often hired me out to accompany her to many events; I had been with her to four in the past already. Everyone knew we weren't dating but no one knew exactly what we were, or at least that's what she had told me. She never once had sex with me, for which I was grateful because I didn't actually enjoy the sex aspect of my job, just the wealth aspect of it. She was also a lovely woman to just talk to and I acquired a nice little bank of knowledge from her, about many of the people in the upper sphere of society, as she loved to gossip.
I got my paints out in my art room and continued on with a project I was currently working on.
A painting called Ophelia was created by a man called Sir John Everett Millais in the mid-1800s. It depicted a woman lying in a stream, soaked by water with a beautiful white dress adorning her body and a variety of intricate flowers floating over her. The striking green of the grass and the leaves were what stood out to me the most, in the painting, as the colour shone bright, capturing the attention of anyone who graced it with a look. I hoped in my own piece of work to capture the beauty of nature and the essence of spring just as beautifully as I worked on the landscape that I was attempting.
After a couple hours had passed, I took another shower as I was now covered in paint and Victoria wouldn't be too pleased if I turned up looking like a mess. I put on the suit she had bought for me, which she had delivered to my flat last week. At this point she knew exactly what measurements to give the tailor, so the suit fit me perfectly. It was an all-black three-piece with even the shirt a dark onyx colour, along with the handkerchief that I folded neatly into my breast pocket.
My blonde hair, and pale skin contrasted nicely with the darkness of the suit without washing me out and I thought I looked rather handsome. When I was pleased that my hair was going to stay in place and that I hadn't forgotten anything I waited for Victoria to send me a text to let me know that she and the driver were outside and waiting for me. When I received said text, I went down to the ground floor and met my client outside and joined her in the limo that drove us to the gala that awaited us.
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ooooh they might meet soon 😌
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