I wasn’t thrilled about today, if I’m honest. I would probably have said no to anyone else, but David… well, he is one of my favourites, and favourites get a longer rope. He wanted to try something different, and though I like to think of myself as adventurous, public stuff has never been on my list. It felt too messy, too risky. I even asked him if he was sure, maybe there was some other way to scratch the itch, but he just smiled and shook his head.
We ended up choosing a club with a darkroom. Just thinking about it made me both restless and uncomfortable. I could not tell if it was fear or arousal. Maybe both. That is the thing about this work, being one of the more adaptable London escorts means sometimes stepping into a scene that is not really your fantasy but still becomes a story worth telling later. I threw on a short black dress, no underwear, because he asked. Outwardly I looked ready. Inside, not so much.
Seeing him outside the bar calmed me more than I expected. He looked sharp as always, and I felt myself loosen a fraction. We went in, had a couple of drinks, courage in liquid form though it burned more than it helped, and drifted to the dance floor. Music too loud to think, lights flashing, and then suddenly it was just the two of us, pressed close, swaying in a slow rhythm that did not match the beat at all.
He kissed me and I kissed back, harder than I meant to. I think it was relief, or nerves spilling out. Whatever it was, it pulled me in. By the time he suggested the darkroom, I did not hesitate. That surprised me, how quickly fear flipped into hunger.
Inside, the room swallowed us in shadow. His touch was familiar, grounding, and yet the awareness of others, movements in the dark, hushed sounds, made it feel sharper. I was not scared anymore. Strangely, it thrilled me. Maybe too much.
When we left, my head was buzzing. We had done something I never thought I would manage, and it did not feel gross or wrong anymore. It felt daring. Ours. We laughed, stayed to dance a bit longer, still drunk on the recklessness of it all.
Not every request becomes a memory, but this one will.
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