Maestra by L. S. Hilton Read Free Book Online

one of his gifts. I settled next to Helene on the chaise and we began to kiss again, me stroking the delicious dips and roundness of her body, she slowly working off my knickers and gently placing a finger on the lips of my cunt. I took her nipple in my mouth and sucked, swirling my tongue over the areolae until she made a little purring noise, then pushed two fingers inside her. Always that exquisite tightness, so soft, so very soft. I could feel the want inside me now, so I manoeuvred myself face down, wriggling underneath her until our bodies were aligned, my face in the velvet seat, her luscious belly settled in the small of my back. I reached up my right arm and she did the same. Stanley fumbled a bit as he cuffed our wrists together, but he managed it.
    ‘There,’ Helene murmured, ‘isn’t that pretty?’ He took her first, straddling my legs and going into her from behind so I felt his balls and the heat and juice of her against my arse. I worked my left hand under my clit where the weight crushed it against me and began stroking. I was eager now, wanting his cock up me, lifting my hips in time with Helene as she took him. I heard her gasp as he pulled out, and then the head of his cock, smooth in the condom, was against my own lips and he slid easily into me, using his hands on Helene’s arse for purchase. He got me close, then went back to Helene, fucking her harder until her body tensed and bucked above me, then entered me again. I was praying for him to last until I was over the edge, then he got me there and she rolled off to the side, her cunt wet against my thigh, and finished him in her mouth. I lay there, breathing, one leg falling to the floor, gaping, my own juice cooling on the fluttering lips of my pussy. This was the rush, for me. Not merely the purity of sheer carnal pleasure but the way that being splayed and screwed by a stranger made me feel so free, so untouchable.

6
    That turned out to be the last party I went to in London. Now I was working at the Gstaad Club I needed to take care of myself, to give time to sleep and running as well as my actual career. I told myself that I had to dismiss the incident with Colonel Morris. The old bastard had failed at his pathetic attempt, and the only thing that really mattered to me was the endgame. I had pulled off the valuation and that was all that counted at the House. So I had to stay tight and fresh, even if that meant setting the alarm for five to bang out my laps of Hyde Park before leaving for the office. After James began waddling into the club with his showers of fifties I began to have regular facials and manicures and paid for a couple of expensive Pilates sessions at the gym. Thanks to my new reading material, I knew that this was not extravagance, it was Me Time, and Investing In Myself. James was now accepted as my regular and on Thursdays and Fridays Olly said I didn’t need to get booked by anyone else, though sometimes I would sit with another man if I was asked, so James had to wait alone, watching me intently until the obligatory bottle was finished and I could sashay across the dance floor with a welcoming smile on my face.
    I couldn’t help fantasising about what I could do if I could keep old James interested. My job in British Pictures barely paid minimum wage. Although my education had been basically free, I had still taken out a graduate loan for £10,000 when I finished studying to cover rent and expenses. Soon I would have to start paying it back. I had reckoned I was good enough to get a less junior position before the payments fell due so the risk had seemed worth it, but the debt would be called in in the autumn, a scant couple of months away, and until I’d begun at the club I’d just been subsisting. With a thousand a week from James, plus what I could earn on the side from other customers, I could hope to start paying back the loan and breathe a bit, maybe even get a flat on my own. I opened a savings account and