Valerie lay in bed fast asleep. As usual she was dressed in a satin negligee, nylon panties, satin brassiere and had left on her stockings having had sex just before falling asleep. She was enshrouded in satin sheets and enraptured by the feel of the silky, slinky, feel of her lingerie cosseting the bed linen.

The feel of the gossamer-like garments against her sensitive flesh invoked memories which pervaded her dreams.

She dreamed of being William Styles, at home between school terms, alone with his stepmother; his stepfather as usual away on some errand for Big Tony.

William stood in the doorway to his mother’s bedroom watching her trim figure; her back to him as she slid her panties up her stocking-clad legs and smoothed them tightly around her buttocks. She, turned her head and saw him there and she smiled. She extended her hand, beckoning him into her bedroom.

“I know you like seeing me like this William. Come closer and take a good look,” her smile widened.

William stepped into the bedroom and closed the door. There was no one else in the house but it seemed the right thing to do.

“Here,” Bethany Styles, his stepmother offered her hand to him.

Her fingers were long, her nails were long too and manicured and painted bright red. He liked her fingers when she stroked him or scratched his back or even just held his hand or touched him.

“What do you like the most William? Is it my stockings? Here feel them,” she guided his fingers to the dark welt at the top of her stocking.

“Feel the little black seam that runs down the back of my leg William,” she took one his fingers and drew it along the backseam of her stocking.

“Now put your fingers back on the welt; see how smooth and gauzy if feels and see how much darker it is to the rest of my stocking. These little silver clips on my suspender belt are called garter snaps and they help hold my stockings up.”

William’s hand rested gently on her thigh.

“Now look how creamy your mother’s skin is above the welt and feel how soft it is to touch,” she guided his fingers to the snow-white thigh flesh above the welts of her stockings.

William’s penis was erect and uncomfortable in his underpants but he was too scared to adjust it.

“And if your fingers follow the garter strap you will see they are tucked under my knickers so I can pull them up or down without removing my stockings. Do you want to touch my panties William? Do you want to feel how soft my knickers are?”

William’s mouth was dry and he couldn’t speak but he nodded ever so slightly.

“Here, run your hands across the globes of my buttocks; feel how satiny and sleek they are. My knickers are very tight there but see how they wrinkle just a little bit in the cleft of my buttocks. Put a finger in there and feel how cool and plush that feels,” She smiled down at him; with her red lipsticked lips and beautiful blue eyes.

“But I know where you really want to put your fingers don’t I William. You want to put them here don’t you?” his mother moved his fingers to the front panel of her panties.

“Feel how tight they fit. Feel how flat my tummy is and how my pubis curves down. Here feel it,” she guided William’s fingers across the front panel of her tight, slick, knickers.

“Do you like the colour? Do you like my white satin panties William?”

“I know you do. I know you like my stockings too because I’ve found the little silver trails you left on them when put them on your cock. You’ve been wanking with mummy’s panties and nylons haven’t you William?”

William’s face burned with shame. He was eighteen yet he felt like a little boy.

“It’s ok darling. I’m not really your mother. I’m your stepmother and you are of the age of consent. What we are doing isn’t illegal. It’s naughty but it’s not criminal,” her smile widened.

“So you can touch me here,” Bethany grinned and pushed his fingers against her sex.

William felt the soft folds of her vagina through the gauzy material. Most of the knickers in her bedside drawer had a cotton gusset in them; but these didn’t, they were delicate and translucent and he could feel every part of his mother’s sex.

“Feel how sheer the material is, and see here how they have become translucent where my juices are soaking into them. You are making me wet my knickers William; your fingers touching me through my knickers are making me wet.”

“And I can see you are becoming wet too. Look!” she directed him down to the little wet patch on the front of his trousers.

“Here. Let me help you with that.”

His mother unzipped his fly and freed his hard cock; she held it gently between her cool fingers.

“This feels so good doesn’t it William. Of course we can’t tell daddy but it feels so good. We need never tell daddy anything. It will be our secret.”

His mother squeezed his penis and he ejaculated. His sizzling semen splashed on his mother’s stockings, the white globules contrasting with the black diaphanous nylon. More of it spurted from the eye of his cock; a rope of the gelatinous issue spattered on the dark welts, another splashed across the front of her knickers and his mother gasped.

Bethany Styles closed her eyes and shuddered as she orgasmed. Her husband hadn’t touched her for nearly a year and she knew her stepson was fantasising about her. She’d found the evidence in her lingerie drawer. She was so sexually frustrated that she needed this release.

When William had finished; Bethany squeezed the last little globules of his issue from the eye of his cock and collected it with her fingernail. She wiped it on her stocking.

Bethany zipped her son’s fly and pointed to the door.

William left the bedroom and closed the door behind him.

Bethany collapsed on the bed and sobbed; wracked with shame and guilt.

Valerie woke up and found that she had had a nocturnal emission; the front of her knickers were soaked. She had had that dream again.

Sally was sound asleep beside her and Emily lay on the other side of Sally. They had slept three-in-a-bed for the last three nights and Valerie was surprised that she’d had the wet dream. She’d had so much sex lately she didn’t think she had it in her.

But that dream. That dream that wasn’t really a dream; it was a memory, and it never went away. Not since her mother had died.

Valerie lay there and remembered the second part of the dream. Where William’s mother came to his bed that night dressed exactly like she had that afternoon. He was naked and his erection was tenting the sheet as he thought about what had happened in his mother’s bedroom.

Without a word Bethany had slid under the sheet and pressed her body against his. She had kissed him and her stockinged thigh had brushed against his penis and he had spontaneously ejaculated. He had tried to apologise but she wouldn’t hear it. She said it was ok. She kept her lips pressed to his and put her tongue in his mouth at exactly the same moment that she had put his erect penis into her warm moist sheath.

She lay on top of him, her breasts pressed against his chest, her tongue examining his mouth, her sleek stocking-clad thighs pressed against his as she slowly gyrated her pubis eliciting another orgasm from her son, this time at the same time as her own. He ejaculated deep inside his mother and felt her vagina palpitate and contract and milk him of his seed as she shuddered against him in the throes of her own climax.

She lay on top of him; her head on his chest listening to him breathe, kissing his warm flesh. He felt her hot breath on him and god if he didn’t become tumescent again.

He probed between her thighs but she shook her head and whispered “enough” and tried to roll away.

He pushed her down on the bed and forced her legs open. He pushed her panty-crotch aside and impaled her on his turgid weapon. He fucked her hard and fast and she wrapped her nylon-sheathed legs around him and rutted with him, milking him of his seed a final time.

She left his bed without saying a word.

The next day she was gone. Gone to join her husband on that fatal flight.

Valerie shook the memory from her consciousness. She got out of bed and headed to the bathroom where she used the toilet, brushed her teeth and showered. She put on some makeup and brushed her hair then she threw on a robe and came back the bedroom.

The room reeked of sex, booze, and smoke and it was obvious that Sally and Emily had just finished another session. They were both flushed and panting.

“Fuck me, I’m coming back with a bucket of cold water if you two don’t stop it and get out of bed,” Valerie joked.

“It’s not my fault. Emily wanted to be absolutely, positive that she enjoyed anal sex,” Sally quipped.

Emily blushed.

“Yeah it’s my fault. I lay here with my bum up in the air begging for it up the wrong ‘un,” she squealed with laughter when Sally hit her with a pillow.

“Get up you two. I’m making tea and there’s shopping to be done,” Valerie turned to go.

“My favourite pastime after sex!” Emily bounced out of bed and padded to the bathroom.

“That girl is a fucking-machine,” Sally said to Valerie.

“You’re telling me? I live across the hall from her!” she grinned and sauntered off to make the tea.

They went shopping with Emily and bought her sexy lingerie, boxes of condoms, tubes of lubricant and various ladies sanitary products. They also bought her a fully stocked cosmetics case to keep in her ‘work room’.

“Being a whore is just like any other profession really. You need the right tools of the trade and to keep yourself fit and healthy,” Sally elucidated as they sipped tea during a break from shopping.

“Wow. I haven’t really thought of myself as a ‘whore’ as such,” Emily said.

“Well you can use words such as hostess, escort, companion; whatever floats your boat really. At the end of the day you’re fucking guys for money,” Sally said prosaically.

“Wow you make it sound so romantic,” Emily turned down her mouth.

“Look honey. It’s just a business. You need to make money and keep yourself safe while you do it. If you enjoy it now and then, then that’s a bonus ok?” Sally replied.

Valerie nodded.

“The Rubicon; remember?”

Emily nodded in return.

Back at the Finishing School they got ready for Emily’s debut. Troy Bingham said he was excited to be taking advantage of the business proposition and had two other students from the Bridge Street Academy that would like to sample the wares being offered.

They liked the fact that it was a young lady from a reputable college, that she had a discreet venue, and that it was safe. The lads had been sowing their wild oats with streetwalkers, which they found distasteful and dangerous, or paying exorbitant fees to call girls as well as having to pay for hotels.

Emily sat on the edge of the bed dressed in a see-through negligee, translucent black panties, matching bra, black lace suspender belt and fully fashioned stockings. Her highheels were so ridiculously high she could hardly walk in them but then again “they are not for walking in, are they?” Sally had explained when they bought them.

She was wearing a lot of makeup, ruby-red lipstick, rouged cheeks lots of black eyeliner and mascara and blue and pink eyeshadow. Her hair was teased and worn big.

Troy had the use of his father’s car and had driven his friends to Chelmsford; the lads nervous and joking and drinking from a bottle of Johnny Walker. They had been instructed to bypass the main entrance to the school and take the tradesman’s entrance to the gardener’s cottage.

They were even more nervous when the countenance of Billy ‘The Bottle’ Butler appeared at the door dressed in a suit looking like a nightclub spiv. But he was quite friendly and engaging with the lads, offering them a drink and seating them comfortably in his little sitting room.

“Right. Whose first then lads, we didn’t come here for a haircut now did we?” he winked.

Troy Bingham leapt to his feet. He had insisted on the drive down that he go first as he had arranged the ‘Tom’ and it was his dad’s car they had used to get here. He was a little nervous when Billy waved a hand at the bedroom door but his nerves dissipated when he saw Emily sitting on the bed.

Emily was more nervous than he was, that is until the handsome young man entered the room and closed the door.

“Hello, I’m Troy,” he introduced himself.

“Hello, I’m Molly,” Emily had no intention of using her real name.

“I have to say you are very lovely Molly. So much different to the brasses I’ve been with before. I have to say I’m a little nervous,” Troy explained.

“Well looking at that bulge in your pants, you at least know what you’re here for love. Why don’t you get undressed and join me?” Emily smiled.

Although Emily was nervous, Sally had instructed her well, explaining it was all just a routine. Get them comfortable, get them undressed, get them off, get their money and get them out the door, was her philosophy.

Troy stripped off and sat next Emily nervously looking at the floor.

“Err…what can I do and what can’t I?” he asked.

Emily just pulled him down on the bed and kissed him. She slid underneath him ensuring his manhood rubbed on her silky lingerie. She slipped her tongue into his mouth and gripped his hard cock and gave it a few tugs and then opened her legs and slipped him into her.

She had pre-lubricated herself with KY jelly and he slid in quite easily.

“Oh my! This is quite wonderful!” Troy gasped as he fucked the pretty young girl lying underneath him.

Emily wrapped her legs and arms around the youth and kissed him again; rising up off the bed to meet his thrusts.

Troy’s screwed up his face in exhilaration as he released himself inside the beautiful young prostitute. She encouraged him; grinding against him and raking her heels along his flanks like a racehorse.

Emily laughed to herself as he apologised for coming so quickly as he pulled on his pants. He scrambled for his wallet.

“No. Not here. Pay Billy outside silly,” she admonished him.

Troy blushed and stumbled from the room.

The other two youths turned to face him expectantly.

“How was it?” they asked in unison.

“Bloody fantastic!” he grinned.

Emily was chuckling to herself. She cleaned herself with tissues and then she saw the unused condom still sitting on the bedside table.

“Fuck! I knew I’d forgotten something,” she chided herself.

She fixed her makeup and sprayed perfume on herself and lubricated her snatch. She flicked a switch and a little red light came on above the door indicating she was ready for her next punter.

“Right! Whose next then lads?” Billy grinned.

Emily took care of the other two lads pretty quickly. One wanted to come in her mouth as he had never experienced fellatio before and the other shagged her up against the wall. She was surprised when Troy came back into the room a second time.

“That first time was so good I want to do it again,” he grinned.

Emily couldn’t help but grin back at him.

“You were supposed to put a johnny on that first time and I forgot. I would say that any damage has been done so you can go again without one I suppose,” she smiled at him.

This time he was able to take his time and Emily quite enjoyed it and was close to coming herself when Billy banged on the door.

“Time’s up I’m sorry,” Billy yelled through the door.

“Tell him I’ll pay double. I'm really close,” Troy panted as he feverishly pumped away at Emily.

“Tell him yourself!” Emily giggled.

“I’ll pay double!” Troy yelled at the door.

“Suit yourself sir. A double it is sir,” Billy shouted back.

“Right. That’s taken care of, now finish me off mister,” Emily grinned up at Troy and wriggled her crotch and pushed up against him to encourage him.

Emily and Valerie sat on Billy’s overstuffed couch while he sat in the matching lounge chair counting cash.

“Fifty quid!,” Billy waved the readies.

Billy took ten, Valerie took twenty, which left Emily with twenty pounds.

“Not bad for a little under two hours work. The average weekly wage is about forty quid!” she grinned.

“Easy work at that,” she clinked her glass against Valerie and Billy’s and sipped her G and T.

Word got around the colleges and posh schools that a pretty young student was selling it at Chelmsford Finishing School for Young Ladies and what started out as a three men a night, three nights a week venture quickly became full time employment for Emily after work and weekends. She was making a lot of money but her personal life was becoming unmanageable.

Valerie was lounging on her bed one evening smoking a cigarette and reading a fashion magazine when there was a tap on the door and Emily walked in with Alice Corinda and another girl that Valerie recognised but didn’t know too well.

Valerie was a little surprised to see the three of them.

“What can I do you ladies?” she asked.

“Well…it’s kinda what we can do for you,” Emily replied.

The other two girls looked awkward and were blushing.

“Come in, close the door and sit down. This looks find of serious,” Valerie said.

The two other girls sat on the couch and Emily sat next to Valerie on her bed.

“So it’s like this. I’m wearing my twat to the bone in the cottage every night. It’s got to the stage I can’t keep up with demand. My grades are suffering and I don’t have a life other than studying and fucking for money,” Emily said.

Valerie’s face became stormy. Everyone involved in her enterprises were sworn to secrecy.

“Look. Some of the girls have noticed that I have lots of new clothes, the latest cassettes and records, and plenty of cash. They aren’t stupid and they know my family is broke,” Emily continued.

Valerie frowned but let her continue.

“There’s a fucking recession for fuck sake and most of the girls here, even though their parents are reasonably well off, are feeling the pinch.”

“So a few of them have approached me and asked me how I’m making money. It’s not hard to figure out; what else could I be doing and a lot of them are fucking like bunnies anyway. So…I told those I trust…please don’t get mad…and only those I trust, that I’m on the game.”

Valerie nodded sagely.

“Look I haven’t told them the details of course. All they know is that I’m selling my arse and making quite a few quid from it,” Emily looked very reticent.

“Ok. You two; wait in the bog. Here; keep yourselves amused while I talk to this one,” she tossed a packet of cigarettes at Alice and nodded sternly at the door.

“What the fuck Emily?” Valerie said when the others had left.

“I told them about the Roman river thing!” Emily cried.

That broke Valerie up.

“Ok, ok, I get it,” Valerie chuckled.

“I’d actually been ruminating on expanding the business. Sally and I are doing ok from her prossing herself and my business with Billy selling contraband is booming. My deal with you is making money too but you are right, there is more potential in this school to be realised.”

“So here it is. I’ll renovate a second room in Billy’s cottage so the three of you have a place to work. You will have to teach the girls the ropes but I’ll spring for their set up like I did with you; lingerie, stockings and toiletries, although you girls can share cosmetics and a lot of other stuff in the cottage.”

“Billy still gets his cut and of course I get mine. Those girls better realise that we are not fucking around and this is a serious business and they are sworn to secrecy. Also that they can’t let their grades drop or do anything that will bring attention to them,” Valerie pronounced.

“Oh thank you so much Valerie!” Emily squealed with delight.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist. We still have a bit to sort out yet,” Valerie said.

“And Alice Corinda? Really? Isn’t she a bit of a Muppet to be doing this sort of thing?”

“Hey Valerie, that girl has street smarts, she had Harry Cartwright wrapped around her fingers,” Emily replied.

“Ok. I’ll get started getting the gardeners cottage renovated and Billy on side. I’m going to write up contracts for those girls too. This is getting quite complicated now,” Valerie said.

Valerie had Emily bring in Alice Corinda and Mary Batty and she read them the riot act.

“I take it Emily has explained how this works. In fact Emily has told you too much already, but I tell you this. You keep this secret or Billy ‘The Bottle’ Butler will come calling ok?” Valerie said gravely.

The girls nodded solemnly.

“Ok. That’s the warning done, now sit down and Emily will pour us all some drinks and we’ll talk about this like civilised young women,” Valerie smiled.

And so it eventuated that after eighteen months as a student at Chelmsford Finishing School for Young Ladies, Valerie Swindon had progressed from timid new girl, still learning to be woman let alone a student, to entrepreneur extraordinaire, running contraband and a brothel.

Valerie took a weekend pass to be alone with Sally for a while. They enjoyed having Emily stay but they appreciated having time to themselves.

They were having a lie in on Sunday morning, drinking tea and reading the newspapers when Valerie commented to Sally out of the blue.

“Where did you get your tits done and how much did they cost?”

Sally looked over her newspaper and peered at Valerie.

“Seriously?” she asked.

“Seriously!” Valerie replied.

To be continued