There are some naughty, sexy, Fictionmania type bits in this story but don’t let that put you off as it is all done in the best possible taste, as the late great Kenny Everett used to say.

She was lovely, gorgeous and every warm blooded man’s wet dream.

She had lovely pert tits, not too big or too small, just right in proportion to her body. Her long blond hair was wonderful and button nose was perfect; and down below...well, let’s just say that I had a woody to end all woodies. When I saw her naked on the bed, the only thought I had was for me to get up close and personal as soon as possible.

This was the second time that I had been with her and to say I was looking forward to the next few hours, would be something of an understatement. She was the only woman who had actually managed to make me cum three times in a few hours. The fact that I hadn’t had sex more times than the fingers of my hands and toes was beside the point.

I admit to the fact that I was a shy man of 55 who only had sex with those professional ladies that like to be paid for their services. Not everyone can be the life and soul of the party and have a body to die for with bulging muscles in all the right places.

I had always been a wall flower even as an adolescent–acne plagued and awkward, gawky kid as I was. Every time I approached someone of the female persuasion, my tongue got caught up in a knot and I never had a witty remark or anything remotely intelligent to say. I wasn’t ugly, but I wasn’t exactly the hunky, muscle bound man that I wanted to be.

‘Come on honey, take your trousers off, or do you want me to help you?’

‘I...I’ll be fine.’ I said, unzipping my trousers and letting them fall to the floor. This was when I regretted the fact that I was wearing Y fronts rather than boxers. There is nothing cool or sexy about Y fronts and the stick insect that I called my penis was struggling to extricate itself in the excitement of the moment.

Sophia was lying there, her cute bosom rising and falling gently, well I think that they were as I had a bit of difficulty seeing them as my glasses were steaming up for some reason.

‘Ooh, lover boy; I can see that you are getting excited–my, aren’t we getting a big tent?’

Now I knew that was a lie. If you compared my manhood to anyone normal, it would be the difference between an oak and a twig. But still, the little chap was trying his best. Mind you, I appreciated her efforts; however, I was paying her enough.

Then she then looked at her watch and got up.

‘Come on love, let me help you.’

Seconds later, I was expertly stripped and lying next to her on the king sized bed. One thing you could say about this hotel, they didn’t stint in the bed size department.

I wondered fleetingly why I was there, in that hotel bedroom, next to a very pretty girl, about to be eaten alive by her. She had none of the hang ups I had. She wasn’t a shy wall flower who had never had any form of meaningful relationship.

I found myself on my back with her on top, looking down at me with her long blond hair, tickling my chest as she looked down at me. Her makeup was flawless and her lips, large, glossy, were ever so kissable.

For a second, I felt a throbbing in my head as my desire rose and in unison, my pee wee penis did the same.

She smiled, making her pretty nose wrinkle slightly.

She licked her lips and then kissed me hard on the mouth, her tongue prising my lips apart and probing into my mouth as she proceeded to try to suck my tonsils out.

Then she decided to excite me in other ways as she delicately licked and then nibbled each of my nipples. Shortly after, my belly button received the same treatment and I was in paradise.

My heart started thumping so loudly, it was a wonder that they couldn’t hear it in the next room.

I felt light headed and really horny. I started panting like a dog.

I shut my eyes and then gasped as she licked the head of my manhood for a moment; then her ample soft lips wrapped themselves around my throbbing member and she started sucking on me.

‘Ooooh!’ I gasped.

‘Slurp,’ she said.

‘Aaah,’ I whispered as I went all gooey inside.

She stopped just as I was about to explode and then before I knew it, I was on top of her and my little throbbing Percy Penis was going in and out of her like a mini piston engine.

‘Oooh, you are so big,’ she said.

That was another lie, but I was too far gone to really care. I was gasping, pushing and pulling for all I was worth.

Deep inside, I felt a glow as I approached my orgasm.

She was shouting, ‘yes, yes,’ and I was doing all that I could to bury myself as deep as I could in that warm soft, slippery place...

I was gasping and my eyes were closed. I could feel a pressure building inside of me. It was as I hadn’t ever really orgasmed before. It came from deep within me and my whole being felt as if it was on fire.

‘Yes, yes, big boy– oooh, aaah, eeeh!’

I could hear her as I went faster and faster. I was going at it like the clappers. There was no holding me back now. I might be small, but size isn’t everything. It was more about quality than quantity. I wanted to show her that I was really a stud in disguise. I need to make her eyes cross with desire and give her an orgasmic experience that she had never had before...

Something snapped.

Through my closed eyes, I could see a tunnel with a brilliant white light at the end. I found myself lift up off the bed. It was so strange. I had opened my eyes and I could see myself down below, still on top of the girl. She was writhing about in some form of ecstasy and even then, I felt so proud that I had managed to get her ball rolling and she actually seemed to be enjoying herself. It might be acting, but I thought that it deserved an Oscar if it was.

I felt myself turn away from the bed and then looking skyward, there was no ceiling, just the tunnel and the light at the end.

I felt no fear or wonderment, I just seemed to drift toward the light, at first slowly and then with ever increasing speed.

I knew that I was dreaming. It was probably that post sex, knackered thing which we men have after a punishing bout of bedroom gymnastics. I felt slightly miffed that I seemed to have fallen asleep just prior to giving my all to the young lady, but that was typical of me. I was never there at the finish.

The light grew brighter and I just went along for the ride. If this was a dream, it was pleasant enough.

Suddenly, I was surrounded by the bright light. I blinked, it was whiter here that in any place I had ever been. Think of a washing powder advert multiplied a thousand times–it was that white.

Gradually, I saw a form appear in front of me.

‘Hello Malcolm,’

The form solidified and it was a man, dressed in a long flowing white robe. He was tall, handsome, had sparkling white teeth and a ready smile.

He had a clipboard and he glanced down and frowned slightly.

‘Hmm, this is strange; you aren’t due here for many years yet.’

‘Where am I?’

The man smiled.

‘If I had a pound for everyone who said exactly the same thing, I would be one rich angel.’

‘You are an angel then?’

‘Yes; do you think that I would wear this drafty white robe if I wasn’t?’

‘Where are your wings then?’

‘Purely ceremonial, but enough of this; look, you shouldn’t be here. You have to go back.’

‘Back?’

‘Yes back to your earthly existence. ‘

‘But this is a dream.’

‘No it isn’t. You just died, but you shouldn’t have.’

‘Died?’

‘Are you deaf? Yes died. You were having carnal relations and then you popped your clogs.’

‘Popped?’

‘Yes.’

‘My clogs?’

‘Got it in one.’

‘You mean I died?’

‘Quick on the uptake, aren’t you?’

‘I’m not dead.’

‘Look, I haven’t time to argue with you. Take it from me you have died and gone to heaven, but He says you shouldn’t be here.’

‘he?’

‘Yes but it’s He with a capital H; and She, who as we know is the power behind everything, has told Him to sort it out. But He has delegated the task to me and therefore you have to go back and live out your life. So off you go, follow the arrows and you won’t go wrong.’

He sort of waved at me and then slowly disappeared from view.

I felt a tugging. I was going backwards and then at an ever increasing speed, I went back down the tunnel as the bright light gradually faded to nothingness.

My eyes snapped open.

Looking up, I saw someone lying on top of me; blimey, it was a man!

He wasn’t that heavy, but he seemed to be asleep. The man looked strangely familiar.

I felt strange, different, as if I wasn’t really myself. Down below, I had a weird feeling between my legs–as if I had something sort of inside me that shouldn’t be there.

‘Yuk.’ I said, surprised that my voice seemed almost girlish.

‘What the fuck!’

Where did that voice come from? It was like inside my head.

I was uncomfortable so I pushed the person off me. Was I still having that daft dream, and would I wake up in a minute to find myself lying beside the girl...

The man landed on the floor with a floppy sort of thump, I pulled the long hair off my face and looked down.

Gasping, I realised that the person on the floor, eyes open and very, very still, was me!

I scratched my chest and then pulled my hand away as if I had just burnt it. I had boobs, breasts, knockers or whatever.

‘Hey, stop fondling me!’

‘What the hell?’

‘What’s happening?’

That voice in my head again–I didn’t like this nightmare. I just wanted to wake up and go on as before. All right, I wasn’t much good in the love department, but still I was a nice guy...

I pinched myself on the thigh.

‘Ouch!’ said the voice.

‘Ouch.’ I echoed.

‘Who is that and what’s going on? Blimey, did I kill him. I know I’m good, but this is ridiculous!’

I might have been small and week, but I had a good brain, well I did anyway and I had seen several films that had mind and body swaps and I instantly realised what had happened, I had somehow switched bodies and I was now in this girls’ one.

Let’s face it; anyone who is an aficionado of Star Trek would consider this sort of situation as pretty normal.

‘I’ve swapped bodies.’ I said.

Then this voice inside popped up again.

‘Well you can bugger off then. This is my body and the only sharing I do is in connection with my job. How the hell did you get in here anyway? There has to be some sort of law against this–it’s gross!’

‘Well looking at my body, it seems like I am dead. The open eyes, tongue lolling out and pasty look kind of gives it away. I must have had a seizure or something.’

‘This is not right. I’m a good girl. I even go to church–well weddings and christenings anyway–so all this shouldn’t be happening. Hey, how come I can’t speak; I’m saying stuff, but my mouth isn’t moving?’

‘Mmm, strange that. Oh look, I can move about. I can touch my nose and my tits, my oooh, that’s nice!’

‘Get your hand away from there, you pervert, and what’s all this “my tits” and stuff? It all belongs to me buddy and I don’t do time share. Anyway, well brought up girls don’t say tits. We say breasts or at a pinch, boobs.’

‘Look, I can see why you are upset. What about me. I have just died and gone to heaven; even had that white light and tunnel thing. I met an angel and he said I wasn’t allowed in; he sent me back and I landed in with you. It’s a shock, I know, but it could be worse.’

‘Worse, worse, how much more worser can it be? I am sharing my temple of love with a bloody man. A pervert, I might add, who can’t keep his hands to himself. Will you stop fondling my breasts!’

‘Is worser a word?’

‘Don’t get clever with me chum. I have two O Levels–one in cookery and the other media studies, so I know my onions.’

‘And TV shows.’

‘Ha, bloody ha. You might think that this is a laugh, but this is my body, not yours and I want you out.’

‘Where can I go?’

‘Back in your own body.’

‘But my body is dead.’

‘Not my problem,’

‘I hate to say this, but I have no idea how I got in here, so getting out is not an option. It’s a shock, I know, but we have to live with this. Can I make a suggestion?’

‘What?’

‘Shall we find out who controls what and then we can see if we can make a go of this?’

She sniffed.

‘I suppose, but as soon as we can we’ll find a doctor to see what’s what.’

‘Okay, I seem to be able to talk, move and do stuff and you are sort of inside our head not talking but able to speak in some sort of telepathic way. I’ll just relax and let my mind drift and we’ll see if you can take over, okay?’

‘It’s not our head, it’s my head, but yeh, we’ll try it.’

‘Right...letting go now.’

I sort of relaxed and then I could feel a sort of shift.

‘Testing, one two, one two,’ she said.

My arm raised and then scratched my nose.

This was really weird. I could feel everything and I could hear the female voice coming out of my mouth–our mouth. God this was confusing!

‘That’s better, he’s gone. Blimey, that was so strange...’

‘I’m still, here.’ I said.

‘What!’

‘You heard me.’

‘Trevor, please go!’

‘It’s Malcolm and no I can’t go. We’ve been through this...’

Anyone watching us then for the next ten minutes would have seen a woman apparently arguing with herself. Even from the inside, I could see that it was a wee bit strange.

Eventually, we got tired of arguing and just lay there looking up at the ceiling and then at the...my body on the floor. Eventually I took over for a moment and covered it with a blanket. I didn’t like the way those eyes kept staring at us...

Then I made to get up off the bed and fell over as we both tried to control our body at the same time. We were naked and had goose pimples and I wanted to get dressed.

‘Hang on.’ I said. ‘You take over for a while. Can we have a shower and then get dressed? We need to sort out my, erm body before it starts to whiff. I suppose we should call a doctor or something...’

We had a shower and I let Sophia take over. I didn’t want her to call me a pervert when she cleaned those intimate parts...

After that interesting shower where my mind sort of zoned out with an attack of sensory information overload, we got dressed. Once again, it was best to let Sophia do the dressing bit. I hadn’t a clue about putting on a bra although I wasn’t too bad at taking them off other girls in a past life...

She re-did her makeup and I was fascinated at the expert job. I would need to learn that, I thought, for some reason.

We were dressed and ready to do the nasty stuff, but before that I made sure that we were sitting down. I needed to talk to her.

Somehow we had learned very quickly how to let one or other of us to dominate things and take over. This time it was my turn.

‘When we call the doctor, they are going to take the body away, do an autopsy and then I assume it would be death by natural causes. Well I hope so, anyway. The last thing we want is for the police to get involved.’

‘Can they put “bonked to death” as a natural cause?’ she asked.

‘Probably not, but that isn’t the problem. If I am dead, we have to manage financially...’

‘Well if you are now in me, you will have to do what I do.’

‘What, prostitution?’

‘I prefer to call it being an escort.’

‘So you would let all those men, erm, do things to us?’

‘That’s what I do. It isn’t always gross, although some of them want me to do things that might be considered a bit obscene and some of the places that they want to put their cocks...’

‘Enough, I don’t want to know. Do you like being a pro...an escort.’

‘It earns a living and you meet interesting people. I am on good terms with high ranking policemen, a judge or two, the occasional member of the cloth. There’s one bishop who likes me to dress up as a cow-maid and then I would milk him...

‘Too much information, please, no more. It makes me feel guilty that I ever called on your erm services.’

‘Why did you?’

‘What?’ I asked.

‘Call me and then arrange to meet here.’

I brushed the hair out of our face. All this mine, her, us stuff was confusing the hell out of me. I didn’t even want to go there regarding the fact that was I now the co-occupant of a female body. I had these strange feelings and felt so supple and full of life. I had been 55 years old, had bad eyesight, I ached in the mornings and I puffed when walking up one flight of stairs, but now...

‘Well?’

‘Oh sorry, I was miles away for a moment. Funny that we can’t read each others thoughts.’

‘Good job’, she said, ‘my thoughts aren’t that pretty at the moment. I asked you a question.’

‘Oh yes, why did I want to have your services?’

I explained my shyness with the opposite sex and the fact that I wasn’t able to from any meaningful relationships.

‘So, what are we going to do about him, you– whatever.’

We were looking down at the body. I knew that we would be asked awkward questions. I had, as usual, booked in as Mr and Mrs Smith and had paid cash. So we wouldn’t be traced, I hoped. I had an idea which formed very quickly.

‘Your thinking, aren’t you.’

‘Can you tell?’

‘Yea, it’s a sort of tickle over to the side of my head.’

‘Our head.’

‘Whatever, but I still don’t like it.’

‘Nor do I, but we have to live with it. Can you imagine what would be said if we went to a doctor about it. He or she would sling us in the loony bin before you could say crackers.’

‘So what is this wonderful idea?’

‘We leave quietly and then phone from a call box and say that there is a dead man in the hotel room, and then we won’t have to get involved in any unpleasantness.’

‘So, you dying on top of my while having an orgasm isn’t unpleasant? Let me tell you, the only stiff thing I ever want in me is one that I allow to go in there. Stiff cocks, dildos, assorted sex toys, with or without batteries, bananas, cucumbers and stuff like that I can take; stiff bodies, are one step beyond for this girl.’

‘We are getting off the subject. I think that we should go and then inform the authorities.’

‘Ok with me. Oh you haven’t paid me yet?’

‘Are you real? I’m dead, remember?’

‘So, a girl has to earn a living.’

I took control, got up and went over to the dresser. My wallet was on there. I emptied it, including the credit cards and then went over to Sophia’s handbag and put them in it, leaving a few notes and a couple of unused credit cards to indicate that I hadn’t been robbed.

‘There you are. There’s plenty in there as you saw. Now shall we go?’

‘All right, we had better go to my place, I suppose.’

‘Where do you live?’

‘Peckham.’

‘Nice.’

‘Not really, it’s a dump, but good for The Tube.’

She didn’t elaborate, so we quickly got our coat and put our shoes on and then we were off.

After looking through the spy glass thing in the door and seeing that there was nobody about, we slipped out of the room, but not after I kind of got a bit emotional about leaving my body. Let’s face it, I had lived in it for 55 years. We had had some good times and bad ones and it was like leaving a home that you had lived in for years. I was a bit spaced out for a few moments afterwards and Sophia took over.

The door closed quietly behind us and we walked down the corridor. It was good that she had control, otherwise the four inch heels would have made me fall over. It was so strange walking along like that. The feel of our slinky dress, the satin lingerie, our leg hugging shear stockings, the shoulder length hair and of course, the shoes, gave me a huge sensory overload. I put my part of our brain into neutral and just went along for the ride. The last thing I wanted was to have an orgasm just from walking down the corridor and this, for me, new body, was doing strange things to my portion of our mind...

The lift pinged open and we stepped inside. There was a man in there and he gave us a look that meant one thing–he liked what he saw and wanted some of it. I felt as if his eyes were stripping us and he seemed to like looking at our breasts for some reason.

‘Got a problem chum?’ asked Sophia.

‘Erm, no, sorry; it’s just that you are so beautiful.’

‘Thanks honey, but I’m out of your league. I charge five hundred for a blow job and fifteen hundred for mind numbing, full on bedroom gymnastics. Here’s my card, if you have the necessary, give me a call. ’

He went several shades of red and then white and I wondered if he was going to have a heart attack.

With that the doors opened and without a backward glance we walked out into the foyer, and then the hotel.

‘Erm, your sales technique could do with polishing up a bit.’

‘Nah, he was a looker not a doer and anyway in this business, you know who the serious players are and he was definitely not a player.’

I changed the subject.

‘My car’s in the hotel garage. I suppose, I’ll have to forget that.’ I said.

‘I’ve got a Mini, but I left it at home.’

I saw a taxi and called it. No way was I doing the bus thing at the moment.

‘Don’t I get any say in this?’ she asked as we got in, ‘and anyway, what’s wrong with a bus?’

All this conversation was done in our head. It would have looked really strange if we started talking to ourselves.

‘Tell him the address.’

‘Nunhead Lane, Peckham please.’

The taxi driver leered at us and had a good look at our assets. That was all I needed a randy taxi driver!

‘Cost a bit that love.’

‘Don’t worry, we– I mean I can pay,’ I said taking over when I could sense that Sophia was going to say something stupid.

We drove off and that left me wondering if we were beginning to get more attuned to each other’s thinking. This was all a bit bizarre and I couldn’t get my mind around the fact that I was sitting there, in a taxi; as a girl of twenty something, gorgeous, with long stocking clad legs and a face that was almost beyond pretty.

‘We didn’t phone up about your corpse,’ butted in Sophia–once again in my head.

‘We’ll do it when we get to Peckham and anyway, don’t call my body a corpse, that’s creepy, it is my earthly remains.’

‘I wouldn’t mind eating the earthly remains of a Big Whopper, I’m starving. Sex does that to you, not that we actually had much sex as you were busy dying on me.’

‘Oh thanks for that. And I thought that I was doing rather well up to the point that I popped my clogs.’

‘You weren’t bad, love; some of my clients can’t even get a hard on, especially at your age. Things start drooping and dropping off and...’

‘Can we change the subject?’ I asked, not wanting to discuss the sex life of slightly older men like some sort of tacky daytime TV show.

‘Sorry, you did ask. So what’s the plan, Batman–or Batwoman, I suppose now?’

‘I have no idea. Let’s get back to your place and then we can decide what to do.’

We continued our journey with me feeling uncomfortable as the taxi driver seemed more interested in our boobs than watching the road. Maybe taxi drivers were taught how to drive with at least one eye in the rear view mirror at Taxi School. I didn’t know that men could multi-task like that.

Eventually we arrived and we paid the driver the extortionate fare,

‘What about the tip, love?’ he asked.

‘My tip is, keep your eyes on the road and not on my boobs. You nearly ran over an old granny at the zebra crossing a few miles back.’

With that we walked off to the abuse of the driver who had a few new swear words that I hadn’t heard before.

‘Nice one sis.’ I said as we walked down the road.

‘So we are sisters now?’ she said.

‘Well I suppose so, sort of twin sisters in the same head.’

‘Hmm; this is so unreal...’

‘Oh there’s a phone booth and it doesn’t look vandalised. Let’s ring the police.’

We went over and I dialled the hotel from a card that was fished out of our hand bag.

‘Hello, is that the Metropole?’

‘Yes, how may I help you?’

‘In room 702 a man has erm, died. You might want to have a look.’

‘But...’

We put the phone down. Lengthy conversations weren’t necessary in these situations, not that I have been in this situation before, but that’s beside the point.

We walked on with Sophia pointing out the sites, not that they were very nice, but I kept my thoughts bottled up, although I think that she could tell that I wasn’t all that impressed with the area.

Peckham is multi cultural with all races and creeds represented. The centre has had some regeneration, including an award winning, multi coloured glass building which houses the library. But despite the improvements, the area is still run down and many parts have seen better days. I didn’t like the look of some of the kids congregating on street corners. Hoodies seemed de rigor for the area.

We went into a side street and then arrived at a low block of flats with keypad entry. Sophia keyed in the number and the door opened.

There were concrete stairs inside and the smell of urine. I could sense that Sophia was embarrassed and I wondered if she ever brought her “clients” there; somehow, I doubted it.

We walked up the stairs to a corridor and she stopped at the second door on the left. Fishing a key from the handbag, she let us in, switching on the light as we went in.

As we were alone, we didn’t bother with talking in our head. It was easier to speak through our mouth.

‘Nice place,’ I said.

‘No it’s not, but it’s cheap and close to The Tube and I can get to the centre of London in a few minutes.’

‘Why do you live here? The money you charge for your erm, services is quite high.’

‘I’m saving all I can. I won’t be this pretty forever. I’ll start to lose my looks and then I will be stuck. I won’t work in a brothel like other girls who do tricks end up. I want to have enough money by the time I’m thirty to stop and live comfortably.’

‘You can’t say I any more, it’s us now.’ I said.

Almost automatically, she went to the fridge, got out a slice of apple pie; put it on table and then made a cup of tea.

‘I don’t like tea,’ I said.

‘You do now,’ she replied with a laugh.

It was strange, the longer I occupied her body, the more normal it felt. If you had told me the day before that I would be dead and my soul, essence or whatever would be transferred into the body of this beautiful girl, I would have laughed and asked what drugs you were taking.

We sat on an old, worn sofa and took a sip of the tea. It was funny, it tasted nice. Maybe I was getting more than I bargained for living with Sophia like this. I just hoped that she didn’t like eating squid or something–the mind, well my bit of it anyway, boggled.

‘So, she said, ‘what’s the plan?’

‘Well...’

‘Before you start, let me put on record that I think that I am in the middle of a nightmare and I’ll wake up one day, hopefully being rogered by George Clooney, but until that happens, I will just have to put up with it–but under protest. Perhaps I’m a schizoid thingie and you are just a voice in my head. Maybe I could get some pills to make you go away.’

I was silent at that.

‘Well say something!’

I was still silent.

‘Have you gone?’

‘No.’

‘Well spit it out,’

I thought for a moment.

‘It’s all about you isn’t it, what about me? I died today and then found myself in you. I didn’t do it on purpose. God either has a funny sense of humour or maybe I did something wrong in a previous life. Anyway, we can’t cry over spilt milk. We have to carry on as if we are going to be together until we die. So we have to make plans. Have you got some paper and a pen?’

A few minutes later and after eating some of the pie and drinking more tea, I was ready.

‘Let me take over writing, all right?’

‘What is this about...?’

‘Have patience...’

I wrote down my name and then I signed under it. The hand writing was mine.

‘Okay, now write your name down and sign under it.’

‘Do you want my real name?’

Isn’t it Sophia.’

‘No, that’s my erm, career name.’

‘Write your real name then put your signature under it.’

I watched as she wrote Brenda Pearce and then her signature. It was her hand writing, not mine.

We looked what we had written. It was strange that I had kept my hand writing and it gave me a germ of an idea.

‘What did we do that for?’

‘I wanted to find out what handwriting we had.’

‘That’s obvious, but why...’

I could hear a trilling sound coming from the handbag. Sophia plunged her hand in, pulled out her phone, looked at the number and answered it.

‘Hello, is that Sophia?’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s me, your cuddly little bear.’

‘’Erm, hello Nigel.’

‘Can we bring our meeting forward to tomorrow, usual place– The Savoy? I’ll be the naughty schoolboy; you can be the strict mistress again.’

‘Sorry, Niggly Wiggly, I’m on at the moment and I need to get myself fit for you. Can you give me a few days and then I’ll call you then?’

‘All right my little bunny rabbit. But I can’t wait to be a naughty boy for you. Don’t forget the leather stuff and the cane?’

‘I won’t. Bye honey.’

‘Niggly Wiggly; Bunny Rabbit?’ I enquired.

‘Don’t start, Nigel is a sweet banker.’

‘More like wanker.’

‘Stop it; you weren’t exactly wonderful yourself.’

‘At least I didn’t dress up and pretend I was someone else.’

‘Only because you lack imagination.’

We were both quiet for a moment and then I mentally shrugged my shoulders and we carried on where we left off before the phone call.

‘Look Brenda.’

‘Call me Sophia, I hate Brenda.’

‘Right, well Br...Sophia; tell me honestly, do you like being a prosti...’

‘Escort.’

‘Okay, do you like being an escort?’

‘It’s a job, it pays well and some of the men are sweet.’

‘Was I sweet...don’t answer that. Have you any clients who aren’t so nice?’

She went silent for a moment.

‘One or two; if he’s new, you never know what they like. I can normally tell from the voice on the phone whether they are okay. If I don’t like the sound of them I quadruple my price; that normally puts them off.’

‘Have you ever had any nasty experiences?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ but for a fleeting moment, her mind opened up and I could literally feel the pain, anger and fear before the mental door shut again.

‘I’m with you now,’ I said gently, ‘we don’t have to do this.’

‘We do, don’t you see, I haven’t enough money put away. There is no way that I am going to work in a shop or factory. My mum did that and when Dad buggered off, and the jobs were so lowly paid, we had nothing to live on. She died of cancer and I had to go into a home. I am not going to do that.’

‘I’m sorry about your mum. It must be terrible. I have no parents now, they both died some years ago. I have no relatives either–ones that I want to get involved with anyway. What do you know about me?’

‘You are Malcolm De Vere and quite sweet really or you were before you knicked my body. You said that you were a business man; that’s all over now that you are a stiff...’

‘Please, let’s not talk about that, it gives me the creeps. Anyway, yes, I’m a businessman and my name is Malcolm De Vere, but there are some things that you don’t know about me...’

‘You aren’t a criminal are you or drug dealer or serial rapist or double glazing salesman or God forbid, an estate agent?’

I laughed, well we laughed really, but let’s not get technical, this was complicated enough as it was.

‘No, I’m none of those things. ‘

‘Strange name that; Malcolm De Vere, sounds a bit foreign.’

‘We came from France, way back. Anyway, do you know Gloucestershire?’

‘Been through it on the way to somewhere or another, why?’

‘Well my full name is Malcolm De Vere, 18th Earl of Tewksbury and I own about twenty percent of the county and if I can wangle it, I will see if my long lost niece Sophia can be my soul heir. I have money stashed away all over the world. Money can do a lot of things and I don’t think that I will have a problem getting a retrospective will made up in your favour and then we can live in a style that I am accustomed to.’

‘Malcolm.’

‘Yes?’

‘Did I ever tell you that I think that you are a lovely, warm, caring person?’

‘No.’

‘Well a girl can make mistakes. So how much cash have you–I mean we— got anyway?

My thanks go to the lovely and talented Holly Hart for editing, and pulling the story into shape.

Please leave comments and kudo thingies...thanks! ~Sue