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Have you got RSI in your spanking arm or something? I wonder if Injury Lawyers 4U deal with that kind of thing …‟
    His luscious lips curve upward in a faint smile. „I doubt it,‟ he says. „Anyway, my arm‟s fine. As you might get to find out for yourself, if you‟re lucky. Or unlucky, depending how you look at it.‟
    „So you‟re not quitting the scene then?‟ I grin, delighted, even though I know I had been planning to make this our last rendezvous.
    33

    „Oh, yeah, I‟m not taking bookings any more.‟
    „Oh. So …?‟
    „I don‟t need the money. My day job earns me more than enough.‟
    „Ah. OK. But … didn‟t you enjoy it?‟
    The look he gives me turns the wine to fire, all the way from my throat to my stomach. „You know I did. You know I do. But I don‟t want to be a gun for hire any more.
    I want an arse to call my own.‟
    The glass jerks in my hand and I slop wine over the table, as is my habit. I can‟t help barking with laughter at his turn of phrase.
    „You mean … a serious relationship? Of some kind.‟
    „Of some kind, yeah. Man, woman, kinky sex and, y‟know, maybe even a bit of normal stuff thrown in on top. Like this. This is almost normal, isn‟t it? And it‟s OK. Don‟t you think?‟
    I do think. I think I don‟t even dare ask the next question. But I force it through.
    „So … do you have a candidate? Or are you going to start looking?‟
    „I have a candidate.‟ I feel sick. The wine is like prussic acid eating at my core. Why must he keep looking at me with those eyes? What does it mean?
    „Oh,‟ is all I can say.
    „Come on, Kat, put me out of my misery.‟
    The prussic acid is now gunpowder, setting off fireworks that shoot to the roots and tips of my being.
    „Do you mean me ?‟
    „Of course I mean you! I haven‟t spent the last six months shagging you just to bin you off because I don‟t want your money any more. God, what do you think of me?‟
    „What about the others though?‟
    34

    „I didn‟t shag any of the others. Jesus. I‟m not a fucking gigolo.‟
    „A non-fucking gigolo would be a bit pointless.‟
    „Don‟t, Kat. And that‟s exactly what I was – a non-fucking gigolo. Not that I think there‟s anything so wrong with that. But I want to move on now. With you, if you think your arse can take it.‟
    „I think it can.‟
    He smiles brilliantly enough to melt the last of the ice-cubes in his drink.
    „That‟s a yes?‟
    „That‟s a yes.‟
    We seal the deal in the pub car park, over the low wall with my skirt up and my knickers down, his belt flying through the evening air, all invisible in the darkness but just close enough to the pub to add a hint of risk.
    „You‟d better get used to the idea of bending over at a moment‟s notice,‟ says Aidan, his arm beneath my ribcage, holding me against him, his other hand tugging at my hair so that his lips can reach my ear without hindrance. „I‟m a spontaneous kind of guy when I want to be.‟
    Afterwards, he sits me down on the hard brick so that I feel every tiny bruise and sore patch against my spontaneously- spanked bum, and he kisses me until I think I will fall backwards on to the tarmac.
    „Are you sitting comfortably?‟ he whispers.
    „No.‟
    „Good. Then we‟ll begin.‟
    35

    It’s All Jenna Jameson’s Fault

by Cyanne

    It‟s all Jenna Jameson‟s fault.
    It was her book that gave me the idea.
    The new club I was working at promised a shorter drive to work, an earlier finish, and access to the city‟s top earners as they entertained clients and were more than ready to splash their bonuses on having me rub myself all over them.
    Happily for most of the girls, but sadly for my exhibitionistic self, the club was only licensed for topless dances, even in the VIP, where I had previously been able to go all out showing off my pussy and had climaxed on a customer‟s lap on more than one occasion.
    I‟ve been a lap dancer since I was 19 and have enjoyed every