Grace watched him, his hairy big belly and stained briefs. “Hey love, you need to get those off,” he taunted her and she sighed, kicking off her shorts and top with ease. “Shaved cunt. You fucking slut,” he told her and Grace ignored him. She was used to comments like that from punters, it made them feel good about themselves as they paid for the sex they couldn't convince anyone else to give them.
Grace slid a condom onto the police officer's undersized cock and he positioned her on all fours on the little massage table. He climbed behind her, his sweaty, smelly body pressed against hers.
“You're gonna love this,” he boasted and Grace feigned a smile. “Little whore like you. Tell me, how old are you?”
“Twenty,” Grace lied and he grinned.
“Same age as me daughter, and she ain't fucking for money.” Grace ignored the comment and guided the man into her. He probably wouldn't be so small if he lost a bit of weight, Grace reasoned but she was used to being screwed by men who were less than well endowed or with large stomachs, it went with the territory.
Grace felt the cock enter her and he began back and forth movements. She wiggled her ass as he did but he was pulling all the way out and back in again. He was pumping her full of air and it was uncomfortable. It had been awhile since a punter had done that, and she forgot how much it hurt.
She faked a groan, and another, squeezing his cock with her muscles as best she could. She needed him to come, it was getting painful.
He was huffing and grunting, his belly rubbing up against her buttocks when he grunted and gripped her thighs roughly, squirting his load into the condom.
Grace discreetly expelled all the air he had pumped into her, as she got down from the bench and he stood waiting for her to remove the rubber sheath. She threw it into the bin, and cleaned his cock with a couple of tissues.
“I'll see you around kid,” he told her as he opened the door, and left it open, two punters walking up the corridor to other rooms eyeing the naked Grace. She shut the door and sank down behind it, and cried.
She felt violated.
The receptionist had tried to warn her, but a couple of the girls knew about PC Tate. They had all suffered at his hands over the previous few months and Sandy looked resolute when they talked about it in the waiting area. He had a habit of finding the “new girls” and getting a freebie, and she was warned not to cross him.
“Comes in here, asking for that from me and he won't get it,” Sandy thundered and Grace gave her a tortured smile. She wished she had done the same, but worried about Sandy. She was firm, but when she got very stressed made drastic, irrational decisions and wondered if she would have go and collect her from a police station in the coming weeks for resisting arrest or assaulting a police officer.
“More effin' packages for you,” the receptionist called out as Grace sauntered into the parlour. It was her day off, but she had left her love letter behind and thought she would pick it up as she passed. She was also quite keen to see what her beau had sent but was passed a big square box, easily a foot and a half across and a few inches deep.
Sandy expressed surprise to see Grace but they eagerly ripped open the box to see “Browne and Co. chocolate.”
“They are the most expensive chocolates in London,” Sandy exclaimed. “And look how many there are!”
Grace stared at the box and sighed. “My love can't be bought,” she replied solemnly. “I think he thinks it can.”
Sandy shrugged and looked at the big box of confectionery. “He does like to spoil you, doesn't he?”
Grace smiled. “Yeah, he does. But he can buy sex from me, but he can't buy my affections. I'd wish he would stop trying.”
“Chill, Grace. He is just being nice.”
Grace sighed, took a few chocolates and then left the rest in the parlour. She couldn't eat them all and the girls would devour them eagerly. She had more pornography to make at the studio a few doors down the road and was not looking forward to it.
“He just wants to show you that he likes you,” Sandy muttered and Grace sighed. “Maybe you should do the same for him?”
Grace winced. “Perhaps I could send him a naked picture?” She joked but Sandy just smiled.
“Yeah.”
The receptionist greeted Grace warmly as she came in; she had been the recipient of a number of the hand-made chocolates from the day before and suddenly Grace was her new favourite, thanks to her generosity.
“Your geezer dropped this off,” she said and passed her a small envelope which she tore open to read a handwritten note telling her directions to the date on Saturday.
She was brought out of her excited glow by a stream of punters. They were all sweaty, overweight men, many reeking of stale, cigarette smoke but she was imagining Terry and gleefully gave every blow-job and every fuck they wanted with renewed relish and passion. It surprised her when she counted her tips at the end of the night and thought she should fantasise more often; it was a profitable addition to her usual activities.
Grace was almost expecting a small parcel when stopped off at the parlour on Friday. She wasn't working but she thought she better check and the receptionist smiled when Grace put her head around the desk.
“I wanna know how you got yo man,” the receptionist said and passed her a small package.
Grace ran home and tore open the box. She sighed immediately pulling out a long yellow summer dress that was sleeveless and flared out brilliantly at the base.
She grinned and put the garment on the brown sofa. Her “boyfriend” was spoiling her. She went out to get a cup of tea, returned to find the cat had made her new dress a home, and shooed it off. She needed to talk to him; he was spending way too much money on her and she felt uncomfortable. She had always been taught and was used to paying her way in the world and she felt uneasy at accepting such lavish gifts.
Having said that, she would speak to Sandy, and ask her to shave her. She felt she needed to be at her very loveliest for tomorrow; Terry would expect nothing less!
Terry was waiting for Grace at the entrance to the theatre on Old Compton Street with a big bouquet of flowers. “My friend recommended this show. Reckon the guy is going to be big and it is ideal place to take my young lady.”
“We can go to the show, it is a date, but am I really your young lady?” she teased and Terry smiled.
“Sorry. I know. I would like you to be my young lady.”
“And babe, I know you are trying to be nice, but please, stop the gifts. You are spending too much on me,” she told him and he looked at her with surprised puppy-dog eyes. He hesitated and Grace continued. “You don't buy people's affections with gifts.”
“I'm not trying to buy your affections, I just want you to be happy.”
She raised her eyebrows and kissed him on the cheek. “Just be yourself, I like that, not the guy trying to spoil me.”
“OK. I'll stop 'em. Sorry.”
The show wasn't to start for another two hours and they meandered their way towards a small restaurant. “You know, I hardly ever ate out before I met you,” Grace admitted and Terry chortled.
“Well. We could get an Indian if you like. Or maybe some bread and beans from a Paki shop. Toast it over some matches by the Thames.”
Grace giggled and touched Terry on the arm. “We'll do whatever you want us to do.”
“I want to kiss you under the moonlight after the show.”
Grace looked away. “Maybe. We'll see.”
Grace ate heartily at the small restaurant before they walked back over the road, to the show. Evita, by Andrew Lloyd Webber, was not ever going to be Grace's play, but Terry enjoyed it and the theatre was packed. They had very good seats and she tried to follow it, but would have preferred him to take her to the cinema instead, musicals were simply not her thing.
“Now we have had our date, am I allowed to ask you out properly?” Terry asked and Grace smiled.