Most of my stories start with the seed of an idea that eventually grows and evolves into a first draft but now and then I have a scene playing in my mind that is obviously set towards the end of the story, where two women are making out or just kissing. I usually backtrack to the beginning and try to find out how and where these two women met. For this story however I just threw it all out there and then did the back story. I hope you enjoy Platinum Service.
The silk, college tie slipped free of the knot and I felt pressure against the back of my neck as Renate pulled the ends towards her. I felt my breasts hitting her breasts a moment later. The tie was taut, she’d deliberately pulled the ends down so that the only way to escape was to jerk my head to one side.
How did I get into this? I was not only straight, the woman undoing my tie was actually the client I’d driven home an hour ago.
I’m a chauffeur for a company offering bespoke services to wealthy clients. I get to meet lots of wealthy people but that comes with the sure knowledge that I’m just the driver. Some of the guys do try to put one over on me, especially if they’re drunk or stoned but there are rules we have to follow if we want to keep our jobs. Never ever get involved with a client and if one tries to get too close I’ve got a number on my speed dial. I just have to call the number and tell them what happened and the powers that be will deal with it. To be honest I’ve never used the number because I can take care of myself for the most part. Keep them smiling but let them know that smiling at a man doesn’t mean you want to fuck him, it just means you’re being friendly.
My boss is Masha, a Russian expatriate who moved to Britain. I heard one of the drivers say she’d been married once but Masha has never confirmed nor denied it and to be honest it doesn’t matter because the woman is quite gay. I kind of suspected it at the job interview when she got me to stand up and do a little turn for her. Unusual, but I didn’t resist or complain because she hired me on the spot and has never put a foot wrong as far as I’m concerned. Because I’ve only been with the company a year or so, I’m still at Silver Service status. There are several achievement levels you can aim for, starting with Bronze and working all the way up to Platinum and Platinum Black, which is the ultimate level. Rising to another level gets you more money.
Her chauffeurs are all women and she gets away with that because the company is called Lady Drivers and the company logo is the outline of a woman. She was criticised in one of the major dailies not long after I started and I did follow the Twitter war between Masha and the online trolls. It was both entertaining and more than a little encouraging, she can slap a man down without missing a beat and what enrages the right wing trolls is the fact she pays above the living wage and her attitude towards tips is quite casual. If someone tips you she doesn’t want to know how much but she did recommend that I keep a record of tips just in case HMRC decided to audit me.
I was beginning to think about audits that night however as Renate removed my tie because there was money involved in that act, serious money.
Renate was a wealthy woman working for a European bank with branches in Britain. I picked her up from the bank and took her to a property outside of Oxford, quite a journey but I’m paid by the hour and anything more than an hour one way gets me an automatic time and a half rate. Oxford is just over 59 miles from London so I’d be on time and a half on the return journey.
Renate seemed pleasant enough although a little reserved, I heard her talking on the phone to someone in German but my German is your basic high school standard, but then she made another call and switched to French. This was about ten miles out of Oxford and when she finished that call she lit another cigarette. It was her third cigarette since we’d left London and she apologised for stinking out the limousine.
“It is a filthy habit, my ex was always telling me to give it up,” she wound the window down a little more and continued, “you want a cigarette?”
“Um, no, I don’t smoke.”
“Good, that is good, it is hell for your complexion,” she smirked.
Little more was said until we reached her destination, which was just outside of Oxford at a large house that looked expensive. When I opened the back door she was sifting through her purse and offered me up a wry smile.
“I am sorry, I only have Euro,” she extracted two fifties and held them out, “the tip?”
It’s not unknown to get a tip that size but it is unusual because I hadn’t treated her any differently to other clients. The bill for the limousine is charged separately and so I merely smiled and took the money. Renate exited the car and looked up at the house.
“Do you have to take a break before going back?”
The question took me by surprise because most clients don’t ask those kinds of questions.
“I take a break Beylikdüzü escort every two hours,” I replied.
“Even so,” she nodded at the house, “it is a big house and it is not mine. There are bedrooms if you need to lie down for half an hour, I can make coffee.”
“Um, no that is fine, but thank you.”
“Thank you,” she extended her hand and I slipped my hand into hers, “drive safe.”
She held my hand for a split second longer than usual and I felt a slight pull towards her. Renate was an attractive woman although she didn’t have that classic hourglass shape. She was a few inches taller than me and had broader shoulders and hips. She looked to be in her forties but it’s impossible to tell with European women, they usually look fantastic at an age when British women are falling apart at the seams. She wore a white ruffled blouse buttoned to the top. Over the top of the blouse she wore a green tartan, pinafore dress with a zipper that extended all the way down the front, the hem stopped a few inches above her knees. The dress was finished off with three attached belts at about waist height. The black overcoat looked to be velvet or some other similar material with satin lapels and cuff ends, a pair of knee high boots completed her outfit.
“Thanks for the tip.”
“It was worth it,” she released my hand and flicked a lock of shoulder length, black hair over her shoulder, “although it is not my money.”
I didn’t know what to say to that but it sounded normal enough. For all I knew she had an expense account. I farewelled her and got back behind the wheel. I stayed there another five minutes while I updated the app on my phone that basically tells the people back at the depot that I’ll be available for any pick-ups along the way home. By the time I left the lights in the house were on but I didn’t see her at any windows as I bumped my way down a winding little road to the main road.
It was only when I turned onto the main road that I heard a distinctive clatter in the back and when I pulled over to investigate the source of the noise I found a silver zippo lighter between the back seat and the sill. When it fell off the seat it must have hit the metal sill. The lighter had been engraved, R69, it was obviously a gift from someone.
I had two options then. I could continue on back to base and simply hand it into lost property or I could turn around and go back to the house. If I’d been closer to London I would definitely have taken the first option but I was a mere fifteen minutes from the house and I was now on time and a half and so I turned around and drove back to the big house.
Renate had lost the overcoat when she answered the door and seemed surprised to see me.
“Something is wrong?”
“Um,” I held up the lighter, “I think it’s yours.”
“Oh,” she reached out and took it from me, “merci,” she looked past me, “it is such a little thing, why did you not keep it?”
“Because that’s dishonest and I’m,” I swallowed.
“Not dishonest?” Renate regarded me for a few moments.
“Come inside,” she stepped back and jerked her head, “honesty is rare in my world, it should be rewarded.”
I stepped inside and followed her into a lounge room that had a bar against the far wall, directly opposite the bar was a very modern looking sofa that stood in marked contrast to the Victorian furniture and paintings. Renate led me to the bar and took the handbag off it and took out a brown paper bag.
“Look you don’t have to,” I protested, “you gave me a generous tip already.”
“I insist,” she smiled, “this is not my money, strictly speaking.”
She opened the bag and took out a bundle of hundred pound notes.
“I won it at the casino, so it is nothing to me,” she peeled off a note and slid it across the bar.
I stared at the pile of money, I had never seen so much money in my life and my first instinct was to refuse it but Renate had an authority about her that almost dictated my next move.
“Thank you,” I took the money, “it’s really too much.”
“I will decide what is too much,” she glanced at the bottles behind the bar, “would you like a drink?”
“Um, no, I have to get back to London. They’ll have another booking for me but thank you.”
“Someone has booked you?”
“Not yet,” I replied, “they’ll send me the address once I reach London.”
“Ah,” she leaned on the bar, “what if I booked you for tomorrow morning? I have to go to Luton tomorrow morning.”
“Um, sure,” I reached for my phone and she smiled, “I’ll set it up.”
“Let me do it,” she held out her hand for the phone, “I’m the client.”
I unlocked the phone and brought up the number for her.
The conversation was in English but I only got half of the exchange.
“Yes, I would like to book her for six in the morning,” she smiled.
“Oh, well that might change things… she could stay here for the night… no that’s fine… I would be okay with that arrangement… hang on, I will let you speak to her.”
“Hello?” Beylikdüzü escort I put the phone to my ear.
“Lauren? Are you able to do this job tomorrow?”
“Sure, I can do it,” I replied, “it’s a bit unusual.”
“Renate is an unusual client,” my shift supervisor told me, “you must have impressed her. We’ll keep the clock running until midnight and restart it at six. Give us a call when you’re at Luton in case there are clients waiting for a ride at the airport.”
“Well that was easy enough,” I ended the call, “although I wasn’t trying to impress you. I was just returning a lighter.”
“The lighter can be easily replaced,” she spun it around casually, “but trust is one of those things that cannot be valued highly enough. One can buy a certain amount of trust but if a third party offers more money then your investment is worthless.”
“I guess so,” I replied.
“You would like that drink now?”
“Maybe just a lager,” I replied, “seeing as I have to drive again in seven hours time.”
While Renate was getting me a bottle I sat down at the bar and took a good look at the lighter.
“What is the meaning of the engraving?”
“It was given to me by an old lover, Jessica Anne, Newton.”
“And the 69, was that her birth year?”
“Her favourite position,” Renate pushed the bottle across the bar to me.
“Oh,” I winced, “why didn’t I think of that?”
“Perhaps you are the prude?”
“Me? I doubt that,” I replied, “although I must confess it’s one position I haven’t tried yet.”
“It takes a bit of getting used to,” she mused, “but it is not my favourite position, I prefer going down on a woman and giving her my full and undivided attention.”
“Oh,” I shivered, “that does sound, enticing but getting a man to do that is hard.”
“Maybe you are seeing the wrong men?” Renate rounded the end of the bar and came towards me.
“Perhaps I’m not seeing any men at all,” I raised the bottle to my lips.
“You are into women?”
“No,” I replied a moment later, “it’s just that between driving and studying I don’t have the time for casual sex let alone a relationship.”
“What are you studying?”
“Psychology,” I shrugged, “I want to know how the mind operates.”
“That could be a lifetime occupation.”
“Well that’s the general idea,” I took another mouthful, “so, what do you do when you’re not winning piles of cash at the casino?”
“I’m an investment consultant,” she replied, “I tell clients where to invest money and when to divest themselves of liabilities. Some people call me a vulture.”
“You’re not, it’s just what you do to earn money. I mean, I couldn’t do it but that’s because I don’t have a head for money.”
“Can you add two and two?”
“Of course, it’s four.”
“Then you have a head for money,” she shrugged, “but investing money is like gambling. You put money into one company and play the odds, if your luck holds out then you win but if not you lose. It is my job to present the options but I do not make the decision to invest,” she managed a sly grin as she raised her glass.
“But there are those who call me a vulture all the same.”
“So, what’s a good investment?”
“One that pays regular sums of money for a long time. People need to eat food and wear clothes, and they need shelter from the weather, so even a small investment in any company that works in those sectors will pay regular dividends. Investing in technology or fads is high risk because the first one is always evolving and fads can die in a heartbeat.”
“That makes sense,” I took another mouthful, “so what was your most lucrative investment?”
“How long have you got?” Renate raised an eyebrow, “but if I was to pick one at random I would say sex cameras. One of my clients wanted to invest in the adult entertainment industry, he was leaning towards brothels in Amsterdam or Berlin but I advised him to focus on sex cameras. The regulations might change if a more conservative government gets into power but sex cameras can be set up anywhere and the market is worldwide. Men will pay money to watch a woman take off her clothes.”
“I had an offer like that once,” I straightened up.
“Yeah, some punter I met in a bar in London made me an offer to become an online stripper but I turned him down.”
“It is not your thing?”
“It sounded good until he suggested I audition for him in private,” I smirked, “I was only eighteen at the time but even I knew it was a bloody con.”
“So, what would it take to get you naked?”
“Money,” I eventually replied.
“How much money?” Renate glanced at the piles of cash.
“I don’t know, I never thought about it to be honest.”
“Would you like to find out?” Renate rested a hand on a pile.
“What do you mean?”
“How much would it take to get you naked? Here is how it works,” she slid a hundred off, “I give you a hundred and you let me take off your jacket or tie, the choice is up to me. For Escort Beylikdüzü every item I remove you get one hundred pounds.”
“And then what? We have sex?”
“We could but once again it would take money,” she propped on her chin, “but how much money would it take?”
“And all this is above board?”
“More or less,” she replied, “we might be breaking a couple of rules but we’re both consenting adults and as long as you tell no one then we are in the clear.”
“And there are no hidden cameras,” I looked around.
“Have a look for yourself,” she looked around, “to be honest I do not know. This belongs to a client so perhaps he might have cameras somewhere.”
It was a possibility that I did explore as I shifted off the stool and proceeded to inspect the room, but to be honest I could have been looking right at a camera and not seen it. I eventually returned to the bar and sat down again.
“Why?” I asked her, “everyone has a motivation for their actions, what are your motivations?”
“Apart from the fact I find you attractive?”
“I’m not that attractive,” I shot back, “my arse is too big.”
“It is a nice arse but apart from simple desire, you might say I am curious.”
I looked at her and made up my mind a few moments later.
“Let’s find out,” I reached into my pocket and taking out my gloves, proceeded to put them on, “this goes against my principals but an experiment is an attempt to discover a truth.”
“Take the money,” she nodded at the hundred pounds.
I slid it across the bar and Renate straightened up. A moment later she slid off the stool and moved towards me. First she touched my tie, tugging at it and then moved down to my jacket but then she moved around behind me and undid the clasp holding my hair up. I felt my hair falling free and she pulled out the clips as well. I’ve got long blonde hair that goes down to my shoulderblades although I’ve always thought it was too thin. I ran my hand through my hair as she moved back around to face me.
“Better,” she mused, “you have nice hair, you should wear it long.”
“I get too hot around the collar.”
“That is something you can change tonight,” Renate nodded at the money.
I took another hundred and she gently lifted my hand and removed a glove and placed it on the bar, I held out my other hand but Renate merely nodded at the money and so I took another hundred in exchange for the other glove.
“An easy way to earn three hundred quid,” I murmured.
“And it is tax free,” she took a sip from her glass.
“Quite,” I swallowed a mouthful of lager, “I could almost quit now and I’m ahead.”
“Now that is something the casinos work hard to prevent,” Renate commented drily, “I am the worst kind of punter.”
“What do you mean by that?” I peeled off another hundred.
“Because I have two pockets,” she slid a hand inside my jacket pocket, “my gambling money goes in this pocket and my winnings go in the other pocket,” she pulled her hand out and undid the first button.
“When I run out of gambling money I go home,” she undid the second button, “even if the second pocket is bulging I still go home,” she undid the third button and parted the jacket.
“Usually,” she slid the jacket over my shoulders, “I have less than a hundred, it is my limit,” she pulled on a sleeve and smiled.
“But I always choose the game wisely, gambling is profitable if you understand mathematics and the law of averages.”
“And they don’t ban you?” I asked as she pulled on the other sleeve and removed the jacket.
“They are very convincing,” she draped it over the bar, “but I have my principles.”
I was about to agree when I looked down at my waistcoat and decided that I was fast losing what few principles I had. Thanks to this little experiment I was now four hundred pounds richer, I wasn’t counting the other hundred for returning the lighter. I looked at the pile of money and thought of my little car sitting at home in Bedfordshire. It needed its MOT and that amount of money would do it.
A moment later I took another mouthful of lager and another hundred. Renate did nothing for a few seconds and then bending forward, took off one of my shoes, it hit the polished wooden floor with a thud and she looked up as I took another hundred. I was now six hundred pounds richer and I wiggled my toes as I took two hundred pounds. Because she was already down there, Renate took off my socks and deposited them on the floor beside the shoes.
“Eight hundred pounds in less than three minutes, even I cannot earn that much.”
I straightened up and fluffed out my hair.
“All in a nights work,” I smiled.
Renate lit a cigarette and propped on the bar while I took another couple of mouthfuls. This was an interesting turn of events and maybe it was the alcohol or this strange situation but something had changed in the last few minutes. This woman had partially disrobed me without the usual rush I found with men, she took some time doing it, almost as if she was savouring it.
Or was she filming it? I stared at a picture on the wall, did she have a camera trained on me? Would I find out this had been posted on You Tube? I looked at the money and slowly took another bill off the pile and added it to mine.