A Night i will Remember 4 Ever

Her name was Paola, and she was (you’ve guessed it) from Brazil. She was visiting England ‘on business’ (whatever that meant), and was staying at a nearby gay hotel. When she asked if I’d like to go back with her for some real sex, I didn’t hesitate. We left at once, but as we came out of the club and stood on the street corner waiting to cross the road, a large black Mercedes limousine drew up next to us. The window rolled down, to reveal two distinguished-looking men in business suits.


‘Hi girls,’ said the driver. ‘Are you looking for business?’ I hesitated. I hadn’t told Paola that I was used to this in my work as an escort, and was worried what she might think if I told her that I was in fact a full-time prostitute. I needn’t have worried.
‘Maybe,’ she said, without even looking at me. She knew -- just as I knew at that moment that she too was on the game.
‘How much?’ asked the man.
‘What are you offering?’ said Paola.
‘Come back to our hotel and there’s two hundred quid for each of you,’ said the man.
‘Two hundred and fifty each and it’s a deal,’ she said, like a true professional.


So in we got, and sped off to their luxury five-star hotel, where they took us up to the millionaire penthouse suite. When we walked in we found the suite already occupied by four more men, all of middle-eastern appearance, and two of them wearing full Arab dress.


‘We picked up these two bitches, your Highness,’ said our guides, roughly pushing us towards the taller of the two sheikhs. ‘These are really experienced, high-class call-girls, the best you can get – not your average street whores. They’ll do anything, as long as it’s filthy. Our charge is four grand – that’s a thousand for each of you, and it’s cheap at the price.’ I gasped, and looked across at Paola, who was about to protest. ‘Shut up, whore, and do as you’re told,’ said the driver, and gave her a stinging slap across the face. ‘Now, you bitches, do what you do best, like on the dance floor in that sleazy club.’