Page 11 of The Naughty List

“Thank you.”

My legs are trembling as I make the climb, and I’m shitting myself, beyond any nerves I’ve ever known as I walk down the hall. I wish I’d downed a couple of shots of vodka first as I see the number 5 on the door.

My palms are sweating as I build up the courage to knock, but that’s ok. I’m five minutes early. Plenty of time.

Breathe, Ella, just breathe.

Except I’m not Ella here. I’m Holly. I’m Holly the entertainer, and it’s time to take on my role. I think of booking flights, and the £400 – minus the agency cut, that will be in my bank account very soon.

I smile as I knock, hopingUser 1378doesn’t realise how terrified I am. I do everything I can not to baulk and run as the door swings open, and there he is, my client. Myfirstclient.

User 1378isn’t some crazy, hot megastar, or a monster of a mountain man, or a sinister looking guy from the head of the mob somewhere. He’s just a guy with brown hair and thin rimmed glasses. He’s as tall as me in my stilettos, slim, but not muscular. Just a regular kind of passerby I’d barely notice in the street. He’s not in a tux, or head to toe in leather, just a pale blue shirt and jeans. He steps aside to let me in, and it’s a nice enough room with a decent double bed. It’s bright, and warm, and he’s drawn the curtains closed. There is nothing ominous here in the slightest.

“Hey, Holly,” he says, and gestures to the dressing table. “Want a drink first, before we get down to it?”

He has a wine bottle there, already open. I recognise the brand from the store. It was on offer last week.

“Sure, thank you,” I say, and he pours me a glass. It’s not even chilled, but that’s ok. It’s welcome. I almost forget and go to ask him his name, but luckily, I remember in time. He’s User 1378 and nothing more.

I slip off my coat, and he looks me up and down before he takes it from me and hangs it on the back of the door. I give him a cheeky smile as I take another sip of my wine, and I see the want in his eyes as he gazes at my cleavage. I like that. I find I’m wondering how big his cock is, shooting a look at the bulge of his jeans.

It feels a lifetime since I’ve taken one inside me.

“I absolutely love your tits,” he says, and I give him a sweet laugh.

“Thanks. You haven’t even seen them yet, though. Not in the flesh.”

“How about we remedy that?”

I put my wine glass down and close the distance between us, beginning to pull down my dress zip. It becomes clearly obvious that User 1378 has done this before. He takes over from me without a moment’s hesitation, loosening my dress until he can tug it down enough to free my tits.

“Yeah, even better in the flesh,” he says.

“Thank you.”

He strokes me, playing, flicking my nipples with his thumbs. Gentle.

I find myself wanting to sayharder,but I can’t. This is his show not mine. I remember Orla’s instructions.Play their game, not yours.

“That feels good,” I tell the man in front of me, and hold my tits up for him to play some more.Inviting.I wish he’d pinch and tug my nipples, and grip nice and tight, but he doesn’t, just keeps stroking with a smile.

It’s instinct that has me clenching my thighs, my body wanting sex, even with a stranger. I arch my back, hoping he’ll drop his head and use his mouth on me, but he doesn’t. He does the opposite. He pulls me in for a kiss.

I’m not expecting the way his tongue swirls around mine as he grunts like a teenager with a boner. I kiss him back, still clenching my thighs and clinging onto the forbidden. He’s a stranger in a hotel room, and I’m being paid for it. I use that thought like a mantra.

His kiss gets more frantic as he walks me backwards towards the bed. It’s me who shimmies my dress off and steps out of it, running my hands up and down his back as though I’m as desperate as he is. I find I’m moaning against his mouth as he keeps on teasing my nipples, hitching myself against him like I can’t stop.

My fingers aren’t nervous anymore as I unbutton his shirt, still kissing him. My eyes are on his as I sweep my hands down his chest to his belt and set it free.

“You’re so fucking hot,” I say between kisses, and beingHollyis becoming much easier than I thought.

Hollythinks User 1378 is the hottest man alive. I look at him as though he is, murmuring about how much I want his cock in my mouth as I palm him through his jeans.

“Please,” I say. “Please, let me see.”

“You can showmefirst,” he says, playfully, and I do as I’m told. I slide my panties down and push him away far enough that he can see me in my full glory, still in my stockings and stilettos, with my hands on my hips. I rock for him, then run my fingers from my tits to my pussy, squatting just a little so I can push two fingers inside myself. Yeah, he likes that. I can see it in his eyes.

“I’m so fucking horny,” I tell him, and let my fingers work their own magic, while watching a stranger watching me. It’s a performance, and I’m the one taking centre stage, moaning as I work my clit like the slut I’m being paid to be.

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