Copyright 2023

Chapter 6

Two days later, I was home and received a telephone call from Mrs O’Toole to say that she had a booking for me. She named the client, the hotel and the time I should attend. “I forgot to mention that since you will finish your business late at night, I will send a driver called Jimmy to pick you up from the hotel and take you home,” she said. That seemed like a very good idea.

I told Agnes that I would be out late Friday evening and not to wait up for me. I could see that she was itching to ask again what I was doing, but she managed to restrain herself.

Friday came and I spend most of the afternoon getting ready, with a scented bath, dressing in a set of pretty lingerie, attending to my hair and makeup, and putting on the evening dress I had selected. Agnes came home before I went out.

“I think I can guess what you are going to do,” she said. I smiled mysteriously and said nothing.

A cab took me to the hotel and as instructed, I walked to the hotel desk and gave my name.

“Yes, miss,” said the clerk, “You are requested to go to room -----”, and he explained how to get to it.

I knocked on the door and it was opened by a short man with a moustache and balding head, in his early fifties at a guess. He was wearing a dressing gown and I guessed that he had nothing on underneath it.

I was a little disappointed as I had hoped for some conversation or maybe a light meal at the hotel restaurant, but it seemed that all he required was sex. Oh well, I could oblige him there.

I stepped into the room and he locked the door behind me, so as not to be disturbed. “Undress please” he said.

“How much do you want me to remove?” I asked.

“Everything,” was the reply. He watched me as I took off my clothes and it seemed to me that he was fondling himself under his dressing gown.

When I was naked, he said “Get on the bed please.” Then he slipped off his dressing gown, he was naked as I suspected, and half erect, but there was no sign of a condom.

“Do you have a prophylactic?” I asked him.

“Oh! I forgot it,” he replied, an obvious lie.

“No matter, I have some with me, also lubricant,” I replied and I could see that he was disappointed. If he expected sex without a condom, he was sadly mistaken. I went to my handbag and took out a couple of condoms and a pot of lubricant. Then I sat on the bed and asked him to come closer. I worked on his member until it was stiff and then rolled on a condom and spread on some lubricant.

“How do you want me, on my back?” I asked, and he nodded. I did as he asked, spread my legs and he knelt on the bed between them, found my passage and roughly thrust in. I was not at all impressed, but I thought of the fifty pounds I was to earn, and just let him get on with it.

He thrust away for several minutes and I closed my eyes not wanting to look at him. Then he slowed up and I opened my eyes to see a strange look on his face. His eyes were bulging out of his head and he started gasping. Then to my horror, he just collapsed on me, knocking the breath out of my body. Perhaps there had been some advantage in being brought up on a farm with all the hard physical work, since I was quite strong. I pushed hard at his body and managed to roll him off. He lay on the bed beside me, not moving, his eyes staring unblinking at the ceiling.

For a moment I thought he must have fainted but then I began to realise that it was far more serious. I put my hand on his chest – no movement. I felt for his heart and then the pulse on his wrist – nothing! There was no doubt about it, my first client was dead! Fortunately, I am not an hysterical sort of girl. Mrs O’Toole had given me her private number – ‘in case of emergencies only’, and there was no doubt about it, this was an emergency. There was a problem in that I could not ring her directly even though there was a telephone beside the bed. It only connected with the reception desk and I would have to ask them to connect me. There as nothing else for it, so I picked up the phone.

When Mrs O’Toole answered the telephone, I hoped to goodness that the hotel reception were not listening in but I couldn’t help it if they were.

“Mrs O’Toole, my client’s time has expired,” I said. ”Could you advise me what to do please?” There was a pause of a few seconds before she replied.

“Marie, you must stay calm. The important thing is to remove everything from the room which indicates that there was another person present. If you haven’t done so already, I suggest you dress first. If the client is still wearing a prophylactic, I’m afraid you must remove it, wrap it in paper and put it in your handbag, together with any wrappings and lubricant. Look around for anything else that indicates two people, maybe a bottle of drink and two glasses. Look in his wallet for a paper with the Agency telephone number. It shouldn’t be there but some people are careless. Don’t remove anything else, especially money. I will pay you your fee when I see you. Come in and see me tomorrow around ten o’clock. Now I am going to ring Jimmy to pick you up in ten minutes, outside the front door of the hotel. When you walk down to the foyer, do not hurry. If the clerk is at reception, smile at him but say nothing, and walk straight out of the door. Is that all clear? Come and see me in the morning.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, judging it was better not to use her name.

I did everything she asked, although removing the client’s prophylactic was the hardest part, trying not to look at his eyes staring at the ceiling. There was a bottle of whiskey on the table with two glasses. I removed one and returned it to the cupboard. There WAS the Agency’s phone number in his wallet so I removed that too; Mrs O’Toole had thought of everything. I wondered how often clients died.

After a final look around to make sure I had all my belongings, I listened at the apartment door for sounds but there were none, so I left the room, being sure to lock it behind me, walked down the stairs to the ground floor, smiled at the clerk as directed and then left by the front door. There was a large dark motor car waiting outside. I opened the rear door and said “Jimmy?”

“Sure, and I’m here to pick you up,” he said, and I sat down and closed the door. Jimmy seemed to know where to take me, and for some minutes I said nothing. I think I was still in shock.

“Did Mrs O’Toole tell you what happened?” I asked, and he told me she hadn’t, so obviously I shouldn’t either.

“I was there for a shorter time that I expected,” I said.

“Well I expected to pick you up at ten o’clock, but these things happen,” he said.

Soon, the car drew to a halt outside Agnes’s flat and I got out.

“Thank you, Jimmy,” I said. “I look forward to seeing you again."

I closed the car door and he drove off.

Agnes was quite surprised to see me. “What’s happened?” she said “You look terrible,”

It was at that moment that having held it together so long, I broke down in tears. Agnes put her arms around me and led me to the couch to sit down.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” she asked and through my tears I shook my head.

“Listen girl, I’m not stupid. You went out dressed up to the nines and return earlier than you should and very upset. It doesn’t take a genius to know that you met a man. Was he cruel to you, did he beat you?”

I was still sobbing but I managed to pull myself together. I knew I was breaking the first rule of the Agency, but I couldn’t help it.

“Agnes, if I tell you what happened, will you swear never to tell another living soul? Not only will I lose a very lucrative job, but it might even put my life in danger, I really don’t know.”

Agnes looked at me very seriously and said, “I swear”.

‘Very well. I went to see a man in a hotel, but he wasn’t a boyfriend. I’m working for an association which teams young women with rich and powerful men who are in Dublin for the night, want female company and are willing to pay well for it. Tonight was my first booking. We were in the middle of sex when he suddenly died on me!”

“Died? What did you do?” asked Agnes, looking shocked.

“I rang an emergency number to a person who organizes the bookings and she gave me instructions to get out of there and leave no evidence behind; that way it would be thought that he just had a heart attack while alone. I was picked up by a car sent for me and he brought me back to the flat.”

“Well, at least you will not be connected with his death,” said Agnes.

“I know that, but it was such a shock when he just ... died!”

“I think the best thing you can do now is get a good night’s sleep,” said Agnes. She led me to my bedroom, helped me undress and put on my night dress, then tucked me up in bed. Later she slipped into bed beside me and we cuddled up together.

In the morning I felt much better. Agnes asked if she should stay home with me, but I assured her I was alright but agreed that I should stay home for the day. She agreed to convey my apology at work, and after breakfast, I dressed, attended to my makeup and hair, and when I looked in the mirror I could see no signs of last night’s trauma. As Mrs O’Toole had requested, I took a cab and visited her arriving at about ten o’clock
.
When I was shown into the drawing room, she stood and came towards me to give me a hug.

“How are you feeling, my dear? Are you better?”

“Yes thank you, Mrs O’Toole, and thank you so much for your help last night. I really couldn’t have managed without you.”

She smiled at me. “I’m sure you are stronger than you think, but I was happy to help. It was so unfortunate that this should happen on your very first booking; it’s such a rare event - only once before in the history of the Agency from memory. Would you like a little time off to recover from it?”

“Mrs O’Toole, when I was a young farm girl, which seems so long ago now, if I fell off a horse, my Daddy told me to get straight back on. I feel the same thing applies now, so I would appreciate getting another booking as soon as possible,” I replied.

“I will see what I can do,” said Mrs O’Toole, and she was as good as her word.

I did scan the Dublin newspapers for the next few days and eventually found what I was seeking – a report of a Belfast councillor who was found dead in a hotel room in Dublin, apparently of a heart attack. There was mention of his grieving widow and what a fine man he was. Most importantly for me, there was no mention of the Garda investigating his death as suspicious.

I received my next booking the following Friday. He was a man in his late forties with a good physique. Importantly for me, he was an experienced lover who knew that by pleasing a woman, he would benefit himself. I was pleasantly surprised by the size of his manhood, and how he used first his fingers and then his tongue to arouse me before he entered me. There was no hurry, we both enjoyed the experience. I had at least three orgasms while he had two. Most importantly for me, he wiped away the previous unpleasant experience. While he kindly gave me a £20 gratuity, I felt that I should really have paid him!

Not all of the clients wished to have sex. I remember a charming old gentleman whom I will call Lord M. What he wanted was to have a well-dressed and pretty girl on his arm when he took her into the hotel restaurant, enjoying the envious glances of almost every married man present, something which did not escape the notice of their wives. I’m sure there were more than a few ankles kicked on those occasions. I inherited him when his previous regular escort left the Agency to get married. Apparently, I was the prettiest girl on the Agency’s books.

Lord M was a creature of habit. I always ate and drank sparingly when invited to dine, and he always gave the same order of a steak medium rare with vegetables in season but plenty of potatoes, and a good bottle of red wine. I drank one glass and he had the rest. After dinner, we went to his suite and enjoyed an interesting conversation, and it was there that I discovered that he enjoyed looking at my legs. The first time I sat on an armchair facing him similarly seated, my dress had ridden up by accident, exposing my legs to the knee in the silk stockings I always wore. After he commented on me ‘having the best pins he had ever seen’, I made sure on future occasions to expose my legs for his viewing pleasure.

That first time I saw him, he gave me a £100 gratuity, and I was so surprised that I questioned whether he had accidently given me more than he intended.

“No, no, my dear. You have given an old man great pleasure, something I look forward to every time I come to Dublin, and I can well afford it.”

None-the-less, I reported his generosity to Mrs O’Toole, saying I would hate to think that he might say I had taken advantage of him and more of his money than he intended.

“No, he always gives a generous gratuity,” said Mrs O’Toole,, “But thank you for telling me – I appreciate your honesty.”

There is a strange coda to this story. I and my legs entertained him for about a year, and then one Friday when I was expecting to see him, Mrs O’Toole told me, with a tear in her eye that Lord M had passed away suddenly. I was really shocked as I had developed a great deal of affection for him and that had nothing to do with his generosity. I shed a tear too.

A couple of years later when I had a little car of my own, I drove to the village churchyard near his country seat, knowing that he was likely to be buried there. I found his grave without difficulty, next to those of other family members. It had a headstone of white marble, topped with the statue of an angel. If I squinted I might have thought that the angel looked like me! I had brought a bouquet of fresh flowers and was glad that I had because the grave looked rather neglected, with the remains of a very old bunch of flowers and some dead leaves lying on it. I brushed all this away with my hands and put my flowers in place. If anyone saw them and wondered about the donor, well that would be a mystery which they would never solve. There was nobody around, so I said out loud “I’ve brought you some fresh flowers Lord M. I hope you like them.” I paused and then added, “I still miss our times together.”

Just as I was about to turn away from the grave something strange happened. It was a calm day, not a breath of wind, but now suddenly a stiff breeze sprang up. I was wearing a light summer dress, and it caught my skirts and whipped them up well above my knees, exposing my legs as far as my stocking welts and suspenders. I’m sure I squealed with surprise but before I had a chance to pull my dress down, the breeze disappeared as quickly as it had arrived and my dress fell of its own accord. I’m not a superstitious person, but I can’t help thinking that Lord M had called up that breeze to get one last look at my legs! Of course it was probably all a coincidence, and people might say that I have an over-active imagination, but I have never visited his grave again. He was a lovely man, but a repeat of that incident would have had me running in terror from the graveyard!

I only ever had one woman as a client, although I did see her a number of times. The reason for this holds true to this day – very few women reach a position in a company so senior that they have to attend important meetings and stay in superior hotels. The lady in question gave her name as a Mrs Gwynne, and asked to be referred to as Nell! I rather suspect that her name was not genuine and she was being discreet.

When Mrs O’Toole told me of the booking I confess to feeling a little nervous. I was quite used to men and how to handle them but thought a woman might be different. I had experience of course with Agnes and Fiona, but in neither case were they paying me money. The day came and I prepared as I always did, with great care. All my lingerie sets were exquisite now and I chose a pink set which I thought might be suitable for a woman, and also my dress was the latest fashion.

Nell was staying at the most expensive hotel in Dublin and I had been there many times before, so when I approached the reception desk where they knew me and asked for Mrs Gwynne’s room, I think maybe some eyebrows were raised after I had left, but I was always treated in the most professional manner as if I had never been there before. My heart was beating a little faster than usual when I knocked on the door. The lady who opened it was about ten years older than me, very handsome and beautifully dressed, again, in the latest fashion, and she welcomed me in with a smile. I introduced myself as Marie and she told me to call her Nell.

“I’ve ordered some tea and biscuits, so that we can get to know each other,” she said, and that was quite different from many men who wasted no time in getting what they had paid for..

Over tea, she asked me about my life and I gave her an abbreviated version, but telling her how I had been seduced, and that my father had found out (but not mentioning the pregnancy), and how he had called me a whore and thrown me out, so I had decided that if I was a whore, I would be the best one I could be. Nell laughed at that.

We had been told never to ask inquisitive questions of a client, but Nell was happy to talk. She told me that she had always felt attracted to women from her early teens and had been seduced by an older girl at her boarding school.

“A lot of girls had their first sexual experience with other girls because there was no danger of getting pregnant, which can cause a great deal of problems for young women in Ireland. I might have been happy to stay with Sapphic pleasures, but I was ambitious and as you know, men hold the purse strings everywhere, so I decided to find myself a husband, which I did. He’s a good man and sex with him is enjoyable, but I decided to take the opportunity to see if going to bed with a woman still has the same pleasures for me.”

At that point she asked if I had finished my tea and led me into the bedroom. Then she turned to me and we kissed. It was a nice gentle kiss to start with, but as her body pressed against me, the kissing became more intense.

“Let’s help each other get undressed,” she said and I could hear the desire in her voice.

We started to undress each other and I was pleased to see that our choice in lingerie was the same, but then Nell seemed to become very nervous and she stayed my hands as I was about to lift her slip over her head.

“I hope you will excuse my body,” she said. “I’m thirty-seven and have borne four children, so you cannot expect it to be like yours.”

I smiled reassuringly. “I’m sure it will be fine,” I said, and indeed it was. Her body was a little thicker than mine but her breasts were still well-formed, and without thinking I said “You have beautiful breasts”. She smiled gratefully and said "Thank you.”

Once we were both naked I could see by her breathing that she was getting excited, and we lay on the bed together and began to explore each other. I started with her breasts, caressing them, and then gently sucking on her hard nipples, which caused her to gasp with pleasure. I couldn’t help wondering if her husband ever did that to her. She started to fondle my breasts too, and suck on them, something I found very erotic, and I wondered what it would be like to have a baby suck on them. From there we began to explore each other’s body further and it was most enjoyable for both of us.

At one point she gasped “Oh you are so pretty and so talented!”. That was just before she had her first orgasm and there were several more to come. I cannot deny that I achieved the heights of pleasure myself more than once. Finally, we lay on the bed side by side, our breasts heaving as we gasped for air, our hearts pounding.

“Well my dear, you have answered my question – I still DO have an attraction to women. This has been the most enjoyable evening I’ve had in a very long time.”

As if to prove it, she started to stroke my body again and it was obvious that she wanted more. Eventually it was over and I slid off the bed and dressed, while Nell put on a dressing gown. She didn’t pay me a gratuity on that occasion, but she did say that she expected to come to Dublin from time to time and hoped that I would be available to meet with her again, and in fact that did happen on a number of occasions. One time I even stayed the night. Eventually she stopped coming to Dublin. I never did find out why. I didn’t think her husband suspected what she had been doing. Women hide such things much better than men.

I carried on working and earning substantial amounts of money which I largely saved, although I did not stint myself if I saw a particularly pretty dress, and I did buy myself a small motor car. The only thing that saddened me was that it was so many years since I had seen Mammy and my brothers and sisters. Mammy and I wrote to each other every week, but it was not the same. Then everything changed.

To be continued