The Agency Ch. 03

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Amateur

Silvie’s story.

I assume you already know about me from Angela’s story. Woops, sorry I keep forgetting to call her Angel as Mrs.B has renamed her. Anyway, I appear in that story in a very flattering light. So typical of Angel. She’s always keen to praise others but is shy about taking any credit for herself. One thing she cannot deny is that she started this whole story writing idea. She wrote the first part and then involved Julie in her little conspiracy. Then she showed me both their efforts.

I read them and became intrigued, as well as more than a little aroused I admit. What I didn’t realise was that I was to become part of their little plan. I gave her my critique as she had asked me to do and she listened attentively. I suggested one or two very minor changes and she made notes. I’m pleased to see, now that they have been published, that she made those changes. When she had listened to me, she sprung her trap.

“I want you to write the next part,” she announced, in such a way that she didn’t even consider that I might say no.

“But I’m not a writer,” I protested, “besides I wasn’t even there that night, although reading about it makes me wish I had been.”

“Jewel and I have discussed it. We want to fill in some background, about how things started. You were there before Jewel and it was you who dragged me along and got me involved.”

“Jewel?” I asked, wondering who this new girl could be.

“Julie,” she replied, looking exasperated at my dim-wittedness, “Mrs.B thought it a nice change when she promoted her.”

“Oh, okay,” I said, a little taken aback by this news, “but can’t one of the other girls do that?”

“No, we both want you to do it. You have to, please say yes,” she pleaded.

And so here I am stuck with an unexpected task of filling in all sorts of blanks which I’m not sure any of you are interested in. Maybe its best to start with how I got to be part of the Agency. At the time I was working in a call centre. I don’t know if any of you have done so but its one of the worst jobs in the world. There were eight of us crammed into a windowless room, each sat at a little cubicle with a phone and a computer. The truth is the company really needed about ten times as many of us to deal with the number of calls. The result was that people had to wait for ages to get through, so they were already pissed off when we finally answered them. I was sworn at and abused on a daily basis. After three months I was thoroughly fed up with it.

Three of us went out together for a drink one Friday after work. We intended just to wind down from a frenetic week and then go home. I was making a trip to the bar for my round of drinks and I nudged the arm of a girl who was sitting on one of the bar stools and nearly spilled her drink. I apologise profusely and she was happy to accept it which was a relief. She was about my age and we started chatting. Her name was Ruth and, after I’d taken my friends their drinks I went back and sat on the stool next to her. It turned out we had a lot in common. We were the same age and we were both lesbians. Okay, she had a proper partner that she lived with whereas I just had Angel, but it was very much the same. As we chatted the subject of work came up and I admitted how much I hated my current job. When I said that, she went silent and looked at me seriously.

She asked me how much I earned and responded with a “oh shit!” when I told her. that was when she dropped her first bombshell.

“I earn between five hundred and a thousand for an evening’s work. I only do three or four evenings a week. Sometimes I get paid even more.”

My eyes widened when she said this. She earned as much in an evening as I did in a week. My suspicions should have been raised with the mention of evening, but I was a bit naïve. I just knew I had to find out more.

I took a swig of my wine and then asked, “what on earth do you do?”

“I get taken out to dinner,” she replied and grinned at me.

That grin made me think she was having a joke with me. “Stop kidding, what do you really do?”

“Its true,” she insisted, “and sometimes I get put up in swanky hotels overnight or over the weekend.”

I still couldn’t quite trust what she was saying but a light was beginning to dawn somewhere deep in my brain. I have a bit of a reputation for being gullible, Angel will attest to that, and I was half congratulating myself with not being caught out for once when she went on.

“Let me explain. I work for an agency whose clients are all well off successful women. Mostly in business but there are a few lawyers and even a judge. Some live here, others are just here on business. They want to go out to dinner but not on their own. They are happy to pay the agency a fee to be introduced to a young woman, such as myself, who can be expected to know how to behave in a posh restaurant.”

“They are willing to pay five hundred for an evening?” I asked incredulously.

“They pay Mrs.B a fee for the introduction. She’s the woman who organises everything. They pay me separately at the bahçelievler escort end of the evening.”

“And they are happy to pay that much just to take you out to dinner?” I still couldn’t quite believe it.

“Some are,” she said and then leant towards me and lowered her voice, “and some will pay more for a few extras.”

Suddenly the light, which had been slowly getting brighter, burst into its full glory.

“You’re an escort!” I said almost as an accusation.

“We are known as companions,” she replied defensively.

I picked up my drink and took a large gulp, trying to make sense of all this information. When I turned back to her she was still sitting, looking pretty and smiling. She certainly didn’t look like a girl hired for sex by bored rich women.

“Are they all old?” I asked.

“The clients? No not at all. They range from mid-thirties to mid-fifties mostly. There’s one who’s getting close to sixty but she’s the exception … she’s also one of the most generous.”

I nodded as I began to understand. I don’t know where it came from, but a tempting thought entered my head, “they don’t sound too bad.” I pushed it aside quickly.

“Listen, I have to go. I have a ‘meeting’. I think you’d be perfect so let me give you my card. Think it over and give me a ring.”

She slipped a card across the bar towards me and stood up. after wishing me a pleasant evening she walked out of the pub. I glanced down at the card in my hand. It simply gave her first name, a mobile number and an e-mail although the last was that of the agency she’d talked about. I was slowly brought back to reality by the quiet hubbub of the pub. I picked up my drink and went to join my two colleagues. They were about to leave so I let them go, thankful not to have to answer any awkward questions. I sat at the empty table mulling over the events of this evening. Eventually, with my glass empty, I got up and left the pub to catch the bus home before the city centre got too rowdy.

Over the weekend I had plenty of time to think. Angela, as she still was then, kept asking me if I was okay and why was I so quiet but I managed to fend off her questions. I wasn’t yet prepared to tell her what I was contemplating. Yes, I was seriously thinking of giving Ruth a call. By the Sunday evening, with the prospect of work the next day, my determination was set.

I’d made a sort of list, the pros and the cons of the job and the pros far outweighed the cons. Older women? I didn’t have a real problem with that. I’d dated a few women in the past who were older than me and they’d turned out to be good fun. The money? This was a definite plus. I was currently on minimum or living wage. I wasn’t really sure, but it allowed me to barely cover my expenses. The hours? They sounded amazing. A few hours in the evening compared to the daily grind I was currently trapped in. I was a little worried about the ‘extras’ but I was sure I could handle that. I was no chaste virgin and there had been plenty of times when I’d hooked up with a girl in a club or in a bar and we’d gone back to mine or hers and had sex. I know that makes me sound like a slut, but we all get lonely at times. I’d be helping to relieve someone else’s loneliness. This wasn’t the career change I’d envisaged but it was a better option than the call centre.

I poured myself a large glass of wine and went up to my room. I took out my phone and put it on the bed beside me and looked at it while I sipped the wine. I could put it off no longer. I found the card Ruth had given me and punched in the number.

“Hi, Ruth here.” Came her cheery voice.

“Hi,” I replied nervously, “its Silvie. We met at the pub last Friday,” I added in case she’d forgotten.

“Silvie, lovely to hear from you,” her voice seemed filled with delight at hearing from me.

“Err … I’ve been thinking about what you said,” and I hesitated. I took a deep breath before I went on, “I think I’d like to give it a try.”

“Oh, wow, that’s amazing. You won’t regret it I’m sure. Let me just give Mrs.B a call and arrange a time and I’ll call you right back.”

The phone went dead in my hand and I put it back on the bed. I was suddenly aware of what I’d just done. I consoled myself with the thought that I could back out at any time, but I just knew I wouldn’t. Five minutes later the phone rang.

“Okay, five o’clock tomorrow,” Ruth said, sounding very efficient, “can you make that? Can you get off work?”

“I can call in a sickie,” I told her.

“Brill! Glam yourself up and wear your best ‘going out’ frock. And make sure you’re squeaky clean. Mrs.B’s very fussy about that. I might be around when you come in, I’m not sure. I have a date for six o’clock.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage but thanks for everything.”

“Shit, nearly forgot. Better give you the address. Just press the buzzer when you get there and tell them your name. You’ll already be in the book so no probs.”

She gave me the address and I scribbled it down and then she put her phone down. Oh fuck, what bahçeşehir escort had I done? Too late to back out now though. I could always say I’d changed my mind when I got there tomorrow. I googled the address and found that it was one of the many alleys that connected one shopping street to another, right in the centre of town. Then I went downstairs and tried to act normally in front of Angela. She gave me a couple of odd looks but at least she didn’t try to interrogate me.

The next morning, I told her I wasn’t feeling too good and that I was going to phone in sick. She went to work as usual and I was left with the house to myself for the day. I spent the morning pacing around nervously trying to distract myself with menial jobs but by just after lunch I knew I needed to get ready. I took special care in the shower in light of what Ruth had told me. I wasn’t sure what to expect later this evening, but I wanted to be prepared for anything. I even gave myself an extra close shave down there. I had no way of knowing what this mysterious Mrs.B preferred but I was sure stubble would not go down too well.

I hummed and hawed for ages over what to wear, in the end opting for my classic little black dress. That almost dictated my choice of underwear. I needed a strapless bra as the dress had only the thinnest of straps, so I chose one in black that somehow managed to lift and plump up my small boobs. Combined with the dress it gave me an almost respectable cleavage. The bra came with a matching thong which was ideal as the dress was rather clingy and showed knicker lines really easily. I wasn’t sure but in the end I opted for a pair of black hold-ups. Black seemed to be the theme as I stepped into a pair of black three-inch heels. I’d put my blonde hair up as best as I could and tried not to overdo it with the makeup. Before I left, I checked myself out in the mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door. I think I looked good, elegant and sophisticated. I just hoped that Mrs.B would think so too.

I’d decided to splash out and I’d ordered a taxi. I was hardly dressed for riding into town on the bus. It deposited me at one end of the alley. I walked slowly along the narrow lane looking right and left, searching for the right door. When I found the right place, it looked to be freshly painted in gloss black. There was simply the number and a brass plaque with just “Central Escort Agency” etched onto it. To one side a buzzer and an intercom. Nervously I pressed the buzzer.

“Yes, can I help?” a female voice asked me.

I gave my name and there was a brief pause before the door buzzed and swung open. A steep staircase led upwards to one side. It was well-lit and lined with photos of pretty girls. Near the top I stopped when I recognised Ruth from the other evening, looking as glamorous as she had then. I pushed open the door at the top. The front office was spacious and painted red. There was little in the way of furniture apart from a few expensive looking chairs and a large glass and chrome desk. Behind the desk sat a young girl. It took me a moment to work her out. She was dressed as the cliched porno schoolgirl with a tight white blouse with too many buttons undone and a very short tartan skirt that barely covered her. I was puzzled until I realised that she wasn’t there for my benefit but for that of the clients. Maybe Mrs.B had a sense of humour.

As I approached the desk, she smiled at me, “Hello Silvie, please take a seat,” and she gestured to the chair in front of the desk, “my name is Jane and I’ll just phone through for you.”

She picked up the phone from the desk and spoke into it. “Your five o’clock is here, Ma’am.” Then she simply replaced the phone in its cradle. For a few minutes it was very awkward. We sat in silence looking at each other and trying to hold fixed smiles. I was desperately trying to think of some way to start a conversation when the door to my left opened and a middle-aged woman came in. We both stared at each other and I could feel her eyes examining me. I guessed she was low to mid-forties. I later found out she was forty-nine so good for her. She was very smartly, and I guessed expensively, dressed in a charcoal grey pencil skirt and matching tailored jacket with a crisp white blouse underneath. She wore tan stockings and sensible black shoes. This, I surmised, was the infamous Mrs.B. She headed for me with her hand outstretched in greeting.

“You must be Silvie. Welcome to our humble office,” and she took my hand. Her skin was soft, but her grip was firm. She didn’t release it but started to gently lead me out. As we entered what could only be her private office she said, over her shoulder, “if anyone calls tell them I’ve left for the day.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” said Jane with a slight giggle.

Like reception, her office was once again minimally furnished. It was mostly occupied by a luxurious looking red leather sofa accompanied by a matching armchair. I thought I was being taken to sit down but she suddenly stopped and let go of my hand, leaving me standing in the centre bakırköy escort of the room. She turned to look at me, her arms folded. I had never felt so self-conscious as I did at that moment. Her stare was making me nervous. She slowly started to walk round behind me and quickly disappeared out of my line of sight. I didn’t dare turn my head to follow her. I jumped when a finger trailed down the middle of my back and over the curve of my bum. It traced the line of my cleft and then was gone. She reappeared from the opposite side and went to sit on one end of the leather sofa, still scrutinising me. Just when her stare had reached the point of being unbearable, she smiled and patted the seat next to her.

“Come and sit here, my dear.”

I was so relieved to have passed the first test that my knees almost buckled when I walked over to her. I made it safely to the sanctuary of the sofa and breathed a sigh. She asked me loads of questions; about me personally and about my personal life, about where I was working, and then more intimate ones. Was I a virgin? When did I first have sex? Had I ever been with a man? What was my relationship with my house mate? Had I ever slept with her? Had I ever been with an older woman? I began to feel uncomfortable, but I answered as truthfully as I could. Finally, she seemed to relax. The grilling was over. She then started to explain what they did here. She also started to stroke my thigh as she spoke. I assumed that I was still being tested so made no attempt to stop her.

Are you hungry?” she suddenly asked.

In fact, I was really famished so I nodded my head enthusiastically. While still caressing my leg and with her hand getting higher each time, she pulled a phone from a pocket and managed to speed-dial a number. She was obviously well known to the person on the other end.

“Ricardo, darling, I don’t suppose you have a table for two spare tonight? Oh, you are such a dear. We’ll be along in about half an hour. Of course, my usual waitress, you know me. Bye.”

By now her hand was flirting with my underwear. I wondered if this was her usual tactic, but I knew I had to be compliant if I was to get the job. Then she stood up, taking my hand and persuading me to my feet. I was relieved when my dress fell back to its proper place and I could feel less exposed. In the outer office Jane was still waiting patiently. Mrs.B went over to her and kissed her on the lips before telling her she could go home. The three of us left together, Mrs.B carefully locking up behind us. Jane went one way and Mrs.B took my arm and guided me in the opposite direction. She walked us through the early evening streets to an elegant looking restaurant. Inside we were greeted effusively by a man who I assumed must be the Ricardo from the phone call, and we were led to a table tucked quietly away in a corner. She insisted that we sit side by side on the banquette. I was nervous as I could guess what was to come.

I wasn’t wrong and by the time a very pretty young girl came up to take our order, my pussy was being stroked through my thong. Thankfully it was below table level although I got a sense that the waitress knew what was going on. I was glad when Mrs.B ordered the same thing for both of us as I wasn’t sure I could trust myself to speak. The waitress was obviously well known to Mrs.B and she was spoken to with affection. A bottle of wine and two glasses somehow appeared, and I was encouraged to try it. I don’t know anything about wine, but I just knew that this wasn’t cheap. The pressure of her finger increased, and the thin silk was being pushed between my pussy lips. I was already aroused, and I could sense my juices starting to flow freely. I hadn’t yet read Angel’s story, so I didn’t know that this was the norm with any new recruit.

The pressure eased when the food appeared, and I could relax a little. I’ve never eaten anywhere quite as posh and I’d certainly never eaten venison before. I hoped I was behaving to her satisfaction as I started to eat. I assumed that this represented a normal evening out with one of her clients, so I wanted to impress. Conversation dwindled while we ate, and I could enjoy the beautiful tastes and textures of the food. When we had finished, however, her hand went back up inside my dress even before the plates had been cleared. This time my thong was pulled to one side and she started to toy with my clit. I was grateful for the long white tablecloth as I looked around at the other diners, each deep in conversation with their companions and seemingly oblivious to what was going on out of sight.

The sorbet that arrived came in a little box made of chocolate and was elegantly decorated with tiny flowers. Before I was allowed to taste it, she pulled her hand away from my pussy and held it in front of my face. Her index finger was slick with my juice and she told me to taste it. Obediently I let her put it in my mouth where I licked and sucked at it. It was a familiar taste and one that I had grown to love. Then her hand was gone, and I was told to try the sorbet while her finger started to push into me. This set the pattern for the meal. A mouthful of clean crisp sorbet and chocolate that was so refreshing, followed by the musky taste of my pussy. This went on for half an hour and I began to see the fun side. When the waitress came to clear our plates Mrs.B put out a hand to stop her leaving.

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