I suck and lap at it while, overhead, a commentary on how he amassed his fortune bores me enough to make me concentrate hard on giving a truly A-grade blow job. My tongue tip flits and glides; my throat opens to accept his full length. I perform a full-scale ravaging of this dick’s dick until, somewhere in the middle of a story about ripping off another trader, his voice breaks and he spurts into my mouth, filling it with salty cream.
I’d like to say his semen tasted of wealth or power or something, but it didn’t. It tasted like spunk.
I swallowed it and looked up. ‘Was that to your satisfaction?’
‘Not bad. You can do it again later.’
I remove the money from my bra and throw it down on the bed. ‘Actually, I won’t.’
I repeat the action with the notes – not so neatly arranged now – in my stockings. Money drifts and floats around the duvet.
‘I beg your pardon? I’ve paid you for the whole night.’
‘I’m giving you your money back.’ I relieve my knickers of Her Majesty’s disapproving face.
‘You can’t do that. Don’t you need it?’
‘No. I don’t. Sorry to disappoint – better luck with the next woman you buy. Only please don’t kid yourself you’re buying the woman. You’re buying her cunt, her mouth, maybe her arse. That’s all.’
I hum a few bars of ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’ as I pick up my clothes from the floor.
Conrad, still post-coital and visibly flabbergasted, doesn’t move from his station on the bed.
‘That thing with the money in the underwear, though,’ I tell him, turning from the interconnecting door, which I’m about to knock on. ‘That was good. Creative. Turned me on. I might do that one again. Bye.’
‘I’m going to have strong words with your pimp!’
I knock on the door. ‘Please do. He’s right here, as it happens.’
Lloyd answers the door. I’m never exactly displeased to see his face, but I could kiss it all over fifty times right now.
‘Is there a problem?’ he asks, peering out at Conrad, still kneeling on the bed with his deflated prick on his thigh and a beet-red face.
‘She’s walked out on me. I won’t be recommending her. I’m going to put a one-star review on your website.’
‘I’m very sorry, sir. I see she’s refunded you. May I recommend Especial Escorts if you still want company – here’s their card.’ He tosses one over and shuts the door on the outraged banker, locking it behind him.
‘Sophie, Sophie, Sophie,’ he says softly, holding me at arm’s length, his eyes bright with all kinds of things. It occurs to me that I’m still tautly pre-orgasmic. I hook an ankle around his calf, trying to bring him closer. ‘Do we have a fail?’
‘Never mind that,’ I whisper, rubbing my head against his shoulder. ‘Something started that didn’t get finished.’
‘Was he lousy?’
‘He was bad. The situation could have been hot, but he took it too far. You would have done it so much better.’
‘Would I?’
‘Yeah. Do it, Lloyd. Pretend to pay for me.’
‘What’s pretend about it? You’ve just lost us seven hundred quid. You’re going to be paying that off, starting now.’ He spins me round and gives me a gentle shove towards the bed.
I can’t get there fast enough.
I bounce on to the bed in my basque, stockings, heels and crotchless knickers – all minus the money now – and kick up my legs.
‘Fuck me!’ I implore, flinging out my arms like an operatic diva. ‘How many unnatural acts add up to seven hundred pounds?’
Lloyd, undressing a few feet from me, his eyes trained on my lewd display, simply curves one side of his mouth upwards, calculating. ‘That’s going to take years to pay off,’ he says. ‘I’m very mean, you see. I won’t pay more than a pound for any given act. Perhaps you should seek a better-paying client?’