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“Oh for FUCK’S sake!!” Jill was buttoning up her shirt, rage in her eyes. “You bastard!”
He was looking at her from across the room, standing on the other side of the bed, looking down to his feet. She was fuming. “Jack, how many times!” She was practically red in her face, now pulling up her trousers. “How fucking difficult is it to understand women have needs too?!”
There was no reason for him to speak. The tirade went on, “It’s all about you, isn’t it? You put it in, come in seconds, by the way! get your pleasure and that’s it!” She stopped for a second, panting in anger, suddenly studying his face. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
Jack, 23 years old, just like herself, said nothing. Just kept staring at his feet. “So many times I’ve asked you to try! — but no!” She managed to pause for a moment, and in those brief three seconds, her anger turned to overwhelming sadness. “Do I mean anything to you at all?”
“You know you d—” he tried to mumble. He should’ve known better not to speak now. Her sobbing reverted back to fury. Impetuously, she bent down to pick his clothes on her side of the bed and threw them in his face. “Get out of here!”
After that, silence fell in the room. He raised his head and stared at her in proper disbelief; for once, being genuine. She was just gasping in continuing boiling resentment and hurt.
She looked him straight in the eye and hissed through gritted teeth, “Get. The FUCK. OUT!!”
* * *
A week later, long after chatting to Stacey about the Jack disaster, the pain was still there. She felt lonely, with no one here in the bedroom. She also felt betrayed and empty. Also really stupid — why does she always have to pick young guys who are no good for her, fake as people and pathetic in bed and never paying attention to her own needs?
Her phone on the desk vibrated. She walked up to the desk and sat on the chair to check it.
You need a real man. Check this out. www.dreams-realised.co.uk. Stace xxx
Jill frowned at the phone, unable to figure out what this was about. She switched on her laptop on the desk. Her fingers seemed to itch a bit as she was curiously typing the url into her browser.
The Dreams Realised website made no bones about it — it clear from first glance — it was about sex. Jill frowned more. The page looked like a cross between a relationship advice site and a porn video website. Lots of thumbnails and videos of couples “at it”, but all very suggestive and discreet rather than your usual explicit. In large purple front, the title Your Dreams Realised stood, with the slogan Stop dreaming it. Live it. below it.
Instantly taken in — particularly since Stacey said she should take a look — she clicked on the intro video.
What are your fantasies? What are your dreams? Gentle romantic sex you’re not getting from your husband or partner? Rough action with the female submitting? A threesome? Handcuffed and at his pleasure? Oral sex you never get from your partner? Two women and a man? Two men and a woman? A schoolgirl or nurse fantasy? Outdoor fucking?
Whatever it is, we will find you a partner — or you can opt for a surprise partner — to realise your dreams and fantasies! Life is too short to wait!
The rest of the video was a couple of real-looking couples providing testimonies to the “service”. It all looked tasteful, real and quite enticing. Strangely enough, there were no “fees” as such for the organised meetings, but they charged eryamanda yeni escortlar a “subscription fee” — a mere £10 per month, which got you 2 meetings per month. The video claimed this is different to regular escort services — a dubious claim, Jill thought, since many porn sites charge regular money for watching videos, so she wasn’t sure what the difference was. Amused as she was by the marketing tricks, this didn’t detract for her from anything. She was hooked already, but she felt the need to check with Stace.
Is this for real?” she tapped into her phone.
She waited patiently for her response, certain that Stace was still around. Yes. They’re safe and I’ve used them many times. Amazing.
Jill sensed a thrill rush across her body and she brushed her hand against her young firm breasts.
Do it. Get a real man instead of that pathetic wimp. Get properly fucked and feel like a woman for once.
Stacey’s final text resulted in her shedding a tear or two and sighing deeply. Then a small smile crept up on her face. “Oh what the fuck,” she muttered to herself. “Give it a go, girl.”
With a sense of excitedness as if she was doing something naughty (well, she was!), she clicked the “Join Us” button the website. It all seemed rather genuine — the credit card processor was legit and there were no hidden charges the way they are on many websites. There also was an easy way to cancel whenever she wanted.
Filling up her profile straight after registration was required so the company could match her with partners. After she uploaded her photo — only a face was required — and stating her age (20 years old) and ethnicity (white) and entering her email address, a question asking her about her fantasies to be fulfilled came up. There was a list of options from a drop-down list that people typically had, but there was also a way to write your own custom text here. Struggling to maintain composure, feeling herself get wet thinking of her erotic fantasies, she put in:
•Men — 40s
•Oral sex — cunnilingus
•Oral sex — blowjob (she added ‘face-fuck’ here)
•A surprise partner
Opting for a surprise man surprise her, she had to admit to herself, but she was feeling adventurous and she wanted to do it quickly before she changed her mind. She clicked Submit, her heart pounding.
Thank you for your interest in our services and applying for a meeting. We manually match partners based on your interests and characteristics. We will email you with more information about your partner within 48 hours on working days. You will then have the opportunity to accept or reject your partner and the meeting and arrange day and time for your meeting.
All meetings take place in our building as stated in the Contact us section of our website in central London.
Your Dreams Realised Team
“Wow,” Jill whispered to herself, suddenly realising her panties were completely wet.
* * *
The email she was waiting for with bated breath arrived within a mere 12 hours, much earlier than she expected it would. She spent all this time indoors. Technically, she was supposed to be doing some work arranging flowers for when work would start overnight, but she couldn’t focus on her florist’s job or, frankly, on anything at all.
Jack was now a distant memory. Instead of 5 days ago, it could have just as well sincan escort bayan been 5 years ago. He tried to call her once — not only did she not respond, but she instantly blocked his number on her phone, congratulating herself on never giving him any keys to her place.
Stace let her in peace despite it being Sunday. Not knowing what to expect, really, and to what extent any of this was true — could there really be a place out there dedicated to realising people’s erotic fantasies? — or perhaps this was just one enormous con, despite Stace’s assurances?—despite all this, she was still determined to enjoy the thrill of the unknown and anticipation.
In her small yet cosy bedroom, upstairs in her small apartment, she closed the windows and drew the drapes, suddenly becoming quite aware of her body. But unlike the times when she did her meditation routine, with the melodious tones of the online coach Felicity advising her to become aware of different limbs in her body, this was a tingly warm sensation focused almost entirely on her erogenous zones. Now separated from any sounds or stimuli of the outside world, she could give in to the sensations. She shifted up onto her bed, slipping under her covers. It was impossible not to purr exploring her body, imagining being caressed, kissed, devoured — and fucked.
Almost coyly, as if there was something to be ashamed of in the privacy of her own house and entirely on her own, she pushed down her white lacy bra, revealing her breast. Her skin felt as if it was being consumed by fire. She watched her hand slip down her body and observed her legs kick off the duvet and spreading wide — the drive took control. Her pupils widened and she moaned rubbing her clit.
She groaned when her phone vibrated, indicating a new email message. Rolling her eyes, she quickly glanced at it and sat up in an instant against her pillows the split second she saw Dreams Realised… in her notifications. She drew her breath sharply.
* * *
The man in the photo they sent looked definitely in his 40s, and the image indicated a kind of quiet confidence. It had taken her just a few minutes to accept the invitation. They were ready for a “meeting” on the same day, just a few hours later, in fact. It first felt too abrupt — she would’ve liked more hours to prepare, emotionally, for it — but the major part of her wanted it too bad. There was a consent agreement to be signed digitally. The place was in London’s Zone 2, giving her just 90 minutes to get ready to go.
Now standing in front of the place, she was glad the address wasn’t some kind of a scary dump. The building was a three-storey mansion of sorts, built of brick, clearly recently restored. Had someone slapped a sign “Best Western”, it would have been unrecognizable from many a hotel. It was well-kept and modern-looking and in a rather affluent area. There was a different sign above the revolving front doors: Dreams in large gilded letters. “Here goes nothing,” she whispered to herself and took the steps inside.
The interior didn’t disappoint — it looked like a hotel indeed but an independent one rather than a chain one. Purple, brown and navy colours were giving the place late Victorian feel. In front of her, there was what looked like a reception desk, with a smiling young woman, probably in her 30s, turning her gaze to her upon her arrival. Tall ceilings were supported by bulky, sculpted pillars, and on both sides, large settees were laid out around ankara escort a series of shiny mahogany tables under rather stunning crystal chandeliers hanging majestically from the ceilings. In one corner, next to a large window, a young couple was conversing — what about, she was not able to make out from this distance.
It was tasteful. There was absolutely nothing about the place that would suggest any kind of indecency — it simply had the feeling of a high-class hotel.
“Miss, what can I do for you?” the young lady at the reception desk addressed her in a polite tone. It reminded her of one of the young girls on her telephone banking line.
It was only a few steps towards the desk. Her heels against the tiled floor broke the peace of the hotel hall. “My name is Jill,” she said. She felt anxious and shy.
“We were expecting you.” The young lady’s voice was matter-of-factly and formal. “Do you have your email confirmation with you?”
Jill fetched the printout from her handbag and handed it over.
“Thank you.” A few quick mouse-clicks and taps on the keyboard, then a key card was produced. “Room 12A. It’s on the first floor — you can take the lift just to the left of me,” Jill followed the receptionist’s pointing index finger. “On the first floor out of the lift, please turn left and follow the arrows.” This was well-rehearsed, much like in any hotel it would be. “Your room will be on the left.” But then the unusual bit: “Please enter the room and wait for 5 minutes for your partner.” Up till now, Jill hadn’t been quite sure this was the right place after all, but on hearing these words, her pulse quickened. “Enjoy the service, Miss.” The receptionist, if this was the title of her post, smiled at her encouragingly for the first time. “You’ll love it.”
Her hands suddenly sweaty, Jill took the Room 12A key card from her hands and on somewhat weak, shaky legs proceeded to the lift. Time seemed to have slowed down now — the lift seemed to be taking forever to arrive and then to go up. She didn’t really notice what the corridors upstairs looked like — just watched the door numbers on the first floor. There was absolute silence here — not even the slightest bit of noise from the outside or from any other room. She stopped in front of the door with 12A on a silver plate. She gasped, letting the air out. Her heart wouldn’t stop pounding. She inserted the key card — first, mistakenly the wrong way around. “Oh Jill!” she mocked herself and managed to use it correctly the second time around. She pushed the door open, stepping inside into a room with a large white king-sized bed dominating it.
* * *
I used my key card. The green light flashed and I pushed the handle down to open the door.
The room was well-sized with a large window at the back, currently covered from view by a set of black curtains. Almost everything else in the room, dominated by a large bed with a thick, rich-looking white duvet stretched across it, was white.
I took two steps inside the room. At the head of the bed, leaning against the white wooden headboard and on two cushions, sat a girl.
I froze for a few seconds, taken aback. She was younger than in the photo I had seen, probably in her early 20s, and strikingly beautiful. Curly natural blonde hair adorned her smooth face with a gently-shaped nose as if she was Russian or Ukrainian. She was wearing very little make-up, just minimally accentuating her dark-grey pupils and light-pink lips. Her slim, delicate figure was clad in a flannel long-sleeved white-and-pink chequered shirt and a pair of light matching trousers, looking a bit like pyjamas trousers. No socks, just bare feet.
She gazed up towards me, giving me a phenomenally sweet and coy smile.
Wow, so this was Jill.
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