Two days. That’s all it had been since I quietly added Adventurous escort to my London services, and somehow fate sent me a booking straight away. Maybe I was tempting the universe, maybe it was coincidence — I don’t know. He wanted to meet at the bar of a Baker Street hotel, and I agreed. Safer that way, easier to break the ice. Still, my stomach did that little twist it always does before a first meeting.
The bar itself was lively, maybe too lively for my mood. Couples chatting, the odd laugh cutting through the hum. I sat tucked away, smoothing down the green velour dress I’d picked at the last minute. It felt short even for me, though the glances it pulled told me I wasn’t imagining things. None of them mattered, though. I was waiting for one.
When he finally appeared — tall, dark hair in that charmingly careless state — relief hit me harder than I expected.
“Penny?” he asked, as if unsure.
“Yes,” I smiled, letting him take my hand. His kiss landed on my knuckles, old-fashioned, almost theatrical. I nearly laughed but it worked; the tension between us thinned a little.
We talked, not about the weather but about boundaries. Always boundaries first. He admitted he’d tried the adventurous path only once before, said it had stayed in his mind ever since. I liked that honesty. After fifteen minutes or so, I suggested we continue upstairs. He didn’t argue.
The hotel room smelled faintly of polish and something sharper — nerves, maybe mine, maybe his. The door clicked shut and that was it, no more small talk. His kiss landed hard, not careless but deliberate. His fingers threaded into my hair, tugging just enough to make me pause. I let him. Wanted him to, if I’m honest.
And then came that odd suspended moment I’ve learned to recognise — the point where patience tips into frustration. He knew how to hold me right there, close enough to make me tremble, far enough to make me ache for more.
“Please…” The word slipped out, soft but undeniable.
His mouth brushed my ear. “You’ll get what you’re after, but only from me.”
The way he said it — calm, certain — it felt like he’d walked straight into my head. He turned me gently, and I didn’t resist. Some part of me craved the giving over, the way he controlled the pace. Slow at first, deliberate, so I could feel every shift.
When I finally asked for more, he looked at me like he was checking something important. I nodded. That’s when the pace changed. Harder, deeper, a rhythm that stole my breath. I lost track of where I ended and he began.
By the time it was over, I couldn’t have told you how long we’d been tangled up. Minutes, hours, I don’t know. All I knew was that the Baker Street hotel had become our secret world. And I was certain of one thing: adding Adventurous had been more than just a business move. It felt like opening a door I wasn’t ready to close.
If this Baker Street story left you curious, you might enjoy slipping into the heat of Fulham First Strapon Session or the raw seduction of femdom in Edgware Road.