Page 10 of The Naughty List

Fuck. FUCK. I could cheer out loud. Someone wants me.

Several items from the naughty list are ticked off on their proposal. Oral. Vaginal. Two hours maximum.

Blowjob and different positions,his request says.Doggy style is my favourite. Short goth dress. Fishnets.

Duration – 2 hours.

And the fee he offers…

£400

Hardly enough to retire on, but it’s my first go, and it’s basic play. Like really basic. I’m sure I can suck someone’s dick and offer them my pussy for that amount of cash to land in my bank account. I’d earn more in two hours than I make in three whole full shifts at work. I don’t even think about it before I click accept. The calendar comes up once I’ve accepted. Three options.

The first is for tomorrow night. The address is a B&B in East London. I look it up and it seems ok. Nothing grotty. Should be fine to get to on the tube. Yeah, I can do it. It’s another click from me.

I get the confirmation message through, and it’s there, outlined. Set in stone.

At 9 p.m. tomorrow night, I’ll be fucking a stranger for £400.

Ebony is still online, so I call her. I can’t sit still, shuffling on my stool and fanning my face with my hands.

“I have my first client.”

“FUCK YES! That is ridiculously fast, by the way. You’re going to ace it. What do they want?”

“He wants basic. Blow job and pussy. He offered four hundred quid.”

She nods. “Four hundred. That’s alright. Easy enough.”

“How much does the cash go up? You said thehardcorersare in a different league. How much do they get offered?”

She leans back in her seat. “The highest I’ve heard of is 150k.”

I blink at her. “One hundred and fifty thousand pounds?!”

“Yep. She earnt it though, believe me. Don’t ask.” She does the zipper gesture over her mouth. “Confidential. You can ask them yourselves in group chat when you get added.”

I wonder what the hell the entertainer did for one hundred and fifty thousand pounds. I wonder whatIwould do for one hundred and fifty thousand pounds right now. It’s not a hard question. I’d do just about anything…

It only makes me more determined to get mynaughty listextended. Quickly.

I barely sleep that night, tossing and turning – my entire body thrumming at the thought of being a whore. I imagine a hot, dirty guy as my client and get myself off, but it doesn’t help me sleep. The nerves are just too strong. I look at my clock so many times I lose count, and then, when sleep finally does get me, I almost doze through my alarm.

I’m like a rabbit on speed dashing about the place to get ready for work, but I’m glad about it. Adrenaline is going to be a very, very good friend of mine this evening. I try to ignore the waves of panic at work, doing my best to keep my mind on tomato ketchup stocks and not on offering my pussy to a stranger, but it’s hard. Understatement of the century.

I grab a sandwich as a token dinner as soon as my shift ends, and I’m out of the door, bounding down to the tube station. The trip back to my place is such a blur that I barely notice my tuna mayo as I munch it, my actions on autopilot as I get off at my stop, charge down the street, let myself into the house and head on upstairs. I already know the dress I’ll be wearing. I lay it out on my bed before I shower and shave. I blow dry my hair and put my makeup on, being careful not to snag my fishnet holdups as I pull them up my legs. I choose decent stilettos, then I slip my dress on. Short and velvet, hugging me tight and barely covering my ass when I walk. I spin in front of the mirror. Yes. I live up to my profile video, and I’ve followed my client’s requests. I hope he appreciates my efforts.

With that, I wrap myself in my long black coat and head to my destination.

I clickarrivedon the incognito app as I stand outside, and get a ping back straight away.

Head up to room 5.

A woman smiles as I arrive at the reception desk, and I point up the stairs behind her.

“I have a friend waiting for me. In room five.”

“Sure,” she says. “Next floor up. Furthest on the right.”

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