Salome's Garden Page 4

  “Can’t argue with the Almighty,” she agreed, and quickly unbuttoned her blouse for the benefit of Davenport’s inevitable groping. Sure enough, as he took her suddenly from behind, his hands reached round to close over her naked breasts. He moaned his pleasure and thrust hard into her as he felt her nipples hard against his palms. Rowena sighed and dug her nails into the leather of the sofa, enjoying the rhythm of his cock inside her.

  Her own pleasure soared as Davenport sought out her clitoris and began to massage it in tune with his fucking. Rowena drew in a sharp breath at the initial contact and threw her head forward so that her long hair hung in an untidy curtain over her face. His firm, incessant rubbing of her clit sent her arousal rocketing, and is if that were not enough to drive her crazy, the angle of his penis as it plunged inside her hit her G-spot every time! She was in truth being driven at supersonic speed towards heaven by the good pastor!

  She tried to resist the approaching tsunami, but she could do nothing to prevent the huge wave of sensation that crashed over her body and hurled her into the ocean of utter abandon! She knew she almost screamed in pleasure, and then she felt Davenport’s thrusting become ever more urgent, that impressive erection of his thudding into her like a mediaeval battering ram.

  “The Lord speaks!” he panted as he pounded her harder and harder. “I must shower this holy servant with his blessings!”

  Rowena was well aware just what that was a euphemism for! Sure enough, Davenport withdrew suddenly and she turned to receive the divine outpouring. The pastor was making guttural noises in his throat as he pumped his erection by hand, and these merged into one long growl of deep satisfaction as he finally exploded over Rowena’s tits. She revelled in the recurring spatter of hot spunk that ran over the contours of her breasts in several streams before mingling into one as the semen poured south towards her navel.

  “Thank you, Lord!” Davenport cried out at the pinnacle of his orgasm. “Thank you for this gift which you have bestowed upon your holy servant!”

  Rowena waited until Davenport had spilled the very last drop of his ejaculation onto her and then she lay back for a few minutes, just basking in the warm sexual afterglow as she always liked to do. Davenport remained where he was, on his knees in a fitting pose for a reverend. He regarded Rowena with a look of quiet satisfaction, clearly appreciating how she looked after the drenching he had just given her. Rowena trailed her fingers through the river of spunk, enjoying how thick and warm it felt as it clung to her fingertips. Davenport watched her, transfixed by this post-coital display, and Rowena spied a new stirring of his flaccid penis. She marvelled as it definitely started to grow before her eyes once more, slowly yet very surely thickening and hardening as it did so. This guy really must have some kind of help from upstairs, she thought to herself.

  She stayed another hour, but not before she had demanded double her fee. The pastor was in no mood to disagree with her terms and he had taken her again on the couch. Typically he chose the missionary position, with Rowena’s legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he fucked her like a guy who knew the world was about to end and wanted all the pussy he could get! Having satisfied his initial appetite for her, Davenport was keen and able to prolong this second act of lovemaking, his hips grinding slowly against hers as he savoured every inch of the warm wet space between her moist thighs. They finally came almost simultaneously, with Rowena clawing at Davenport’s back as he poured more semen into her aching vagina. Again he accompanied his climax with pious thanks skywards, before collapsing in a sweaty heap on top of an equally sweaty Rowena.

  Davenport had graciously offered her the use of his bathroom before leaving, and Rowena washed away all the evidence of their afternoon romp. She had just emerged and was putting her jacket on in the lounge when she heard the front door open and close.

  “Only me, darling,” a woman’s voice sounded, and Davenport paled. He stared like a rabbit caught in the proverbial headlamps, the cool demeanour he had displayed on her arrival nowhere to be seen! Rowena froze too as a middle-aged woman in pearls and a prim floral two-piece that some OAPs wouldn’t even choose to be buried in entered the living room. She greeted Davenport with an insipid smile before noting Rowena with an enquiring frown.

  “Visitors, Charles?” she stated obviously, and Rowena noted the disapproving look she was given for her higher-than-knee-length hemline of her skirt.

  “Yes, dear,” said Davenport quickly. “Mildred, I’d like you to meet Miss Swift. She called enquiring about our series of Lenten meditations.”

  “Oh, that’s absolutely wonderful!” Mrs Davenport had crowed. “Praise the Lord!”

  The ruse did the trick and successfully quelled any suspicions the boring Mrs Davenport may have harboured. Rowena left thirty minutes later, tossing her complimentary Gideon bible and palm cross into the nearest hedge.

  Fame & Fortune

  The call from Rowena’s bank manager inviting her to come in and talk about possible investment opportunities was more proof, if proof were needed, of the vast change to her lifestyle. She had entered this world of wickedness on a whim, with no real intent of pursuing a career in the sex industry. When she had taken the plunge, it had not been for the money: the thrill was its own reward. But now, with her bank balance climbing through the roof, she fully appreciated the profitable direction in which that decision had steered her life.

  She had finally thrown in her job at the pharmacy two weeks ago. After just one week at Salome’s Garden, she had earned more than she might ordinarily make in six months. Her resignation had taken her colleagues completely by surprise. They quizzed her, curious why she had decided to quit, and Rowena told them that she had been offered a job in sales. Well, it was partly true at least!

  She decided to ignore her bank manager’s invitation and just enjoy the novelty of her new-found wealth. It had only ever been a dream to be able to walk into a department store and walk out with half-a-dozen bags without having to blink an eye about the cost. Now she had the wherewithall to fulfil every girl’s fantasy and hit the high street without a care!

  Clarissa had insisted that she take this time off. “You’ve more than earned it,” she told Rowena. “You’ve really put Salome’s Garden on the map. Now get out there and just pamper yourself.”

  Rowena had been more than happy to do just that, and embarked on a marathon shopping spree. She set about revamping her tired old wardrobe – tossing out the baggy tops and slouchy leisure trousers in favour of fashionable designer labels intended to flatter her superb hourglass curves. Condemned, too, was the majority of her underwear drawer. Generic bras and panties found a new home in the trash, replaced by an assortment of sensual lingerie – black lace basques, cleavage enhancing bras, plus the classic stockings and suspenders – that could not have failed to drive even the pope wild with lust for her! She even bought a couple of tight-fitting PVC numbers in red and black that she would in all truth probably need a tin opener for, if she were to ever have any hope of successfully extricating herself from them! These were essential accessories of the trade after all and an investment as much as a luxury. Just how timely these particular purchases were she was to discover as her mini holiday drew to a close.

  “I have a proposition for you,” Clarissa broached on the telephone, the afternoon before Rowena was due to resume work. “How would you feel about becoming the official face of Salome’s Garden?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t quite follow.”

  “I’m talking about an advertising campaign. Your face, your body, promoting the business.”

  Rowena hesitated, realising that this was taking her involvement with Salome’s Garden to a whole new level. Were she to accept the commission, then any attempts at maintaining her privacy would be severely compromised. There would be an increased risk of exposing her new and secret life to family and friends – was she ready for that possibility?

  “Why me?” Rowena enquired curiously. “There must be other girls who’d eq
ually jump at the chance.”

  Clarissa chuckled “So you’d jump at it too?”

  “Well, obviously I’m flattered,” Rowena confessed. “I’m just wondering why you want to use someone who only joined the business five minutes ago.”

  “Because, my gorgeous Rowena,” Clarissa started to trumpet, “you are quite simply the best thing that has happened to Salome’s Garden in years. Sure, we have a lot of younger and stunning employees, but our clients are suddenly clamouring for the new sexy MILF with powers greater than Viagra! You have single-handedly made the MILF the must-have sexual experience, so it’s only right that we front our advertising campaign with the product voted best by our client base.”

  The revelation sent a shiver up and down Rowena’s spine, and made her toes curl with excitement. She had never, ever realised just how potent her sexuality was. It seemed that everyone who came into contact with her – who came inside her, to be more accurate! – could not get enough of her charms. Clarissa was merely confirming officially what Rowena’s swollen bank account had already told her. The vanity that Clarissa had appealed to effectively silenced Rowena’s former misgivings.

  “You win,” she assented simply.

  “Excellent!” Clarissa replied. “Now first things first. We need to arrange a photo-shoot. So pick out your sexiest, cock-enlarging outfits and be here first thing tomorrow morning. Okay?”

  “Fine by me,” Rowena confirmed. “And in the meantime?”

  “And in the meantime, I’ve booked us a hotel room. So why don’t you get yourself round here pronto and remind me just what it is that’s made you such a hit with the customers?”

  ***

  Having eased herself back into action with Clarissa and a steamy two-hour romp, Rowena made her way home to prepare for the next day’s photo-shoot. On the way, she stopped at Tesco to grab herself a bottle of expensive red wine. Her ability to buy the best was still an irresistible novelty, and she proudly paid for the fifty pound bottle with a nonchalant swipe of her credit card.

  Back home, she relaxed with a drink and the latest album from Bruno Mars. She was just sorting through her growing selection of raunchy outfits when the telephone rang.

  “Hello,” she said breezily, snatching up the receiver without thought.

  “Rowena? Thank God.”

  She froze as the unmistakable sound of Bobby’s voice turned her blood to ice. She was tempted to just slam down the receiver.

  “No, don’t hang up!” Bobby snapped as though he could read her mind. “Please, just listen to me for five minutes. That’s all.”

  “What do you want, Bobby?” Rowena sighed wearily.

  There was a slight pause, then: “You, Rowena. You are all I want.”

  Well, what a surprise! she thought.

  “What’s the matter?” she hissed. “Got no one else gullible enough to let you into their knickers?”

  “I love you, Rowena,” Bobby whined pathetically, notably avoiding her question. “You are the only woman for me.”

  “Of course I am. Me and half the female population in the north-east!”

  But Bobby refused to be put to shame. “Please, Rowena. I need you.”

  His words hit home, but not in the way that he had ever intended. Rowena quite suddenly realised just how much she had been empowered by her new role in life. There was a growing number of guys out there all in need of her. True enough, they thought with their dicks just like her little shit of an ex-, but the difference was that they at least compensated her well for the privilege of using her. What had Bobby ever offered her apart from grief?

  “Well, thing is, Bobby,” she spat, hard as nails. “I certainly don’t need you. Now, like I believe I told you last time, just fuck off and don’t ever call me again!”

  She slammed down the telephone and stood fuming for a few minutes, incensed by that idiot’s nerve. While Bobby still had her number, he could always continue to pester her. Indeed, it went beyond a need to just change her number. The bastard knew where she lived, and that was even more worrying.

  ***

  Rowena tried to hold her sultry pose as the photographer veered from left to right, snapping away vigorously.

  “Oh, God, that’s beautiful,” he enthused to the whirr of his camera drive. “Absolutely fantastic!”

  She thrust out her ample chest a little bit more and turned slightly as directed. The bra she had chosen had met with full aproval for the way it accentuated her to-die-for cleavage. Indeed, she thought the photographer’s eyes would pop out of his head as she had sauntered langerously into the studio situated in another corner of Salome’s Garden.

  “Very sexy,” he whistled. “Okay, now shall we try with the bra off? And where’s Melissa?”

  A sinuous brunette in her early twenties sauntered forwards to join Rowena. She gave Rowena a cool smile, doubtless totally pissed off by the growing popularity of a fellow lady of the night almost twice her age. But even she could not hide the involuntary admiration that thawed her expression as Rowena unhooked her bra and freed those mouthwatering tits of hers.

  “Gorgeous!” the photographer called out, eyes boggling as Rowena’s breasts bounced beautifully in his viewfinder. “Right, now, Melissa, let’s have your soft lips savouring those magical melons!”

  Melissa complied with a readiness Rowena had not been expecting after the frosty attitude she had shown earlier. She bent her head and fastened her mouth over one of Rowena’s nipples, sucking on it gently as she cupped the breast with a hand. Rowena brushed away the curtain of Melissa’s long hair so that the photographer had a clear shot, and heard his camera clicking furiously.

  “Bloody hell,” he marvelled. “And now the other one.”

  He took scores more photos of a repeat performance using Rowena’s other side, and then Clarissa stepped forward from the sidelines where she had been chatting with make-up and lighting specialists.

  “Now time to turn the heat up, Melvin,” she instructed. “And Rowena, if you wouldn’t mind slipping into that wonderful basque you showed me earlier.”

  What Clarissa really meant of course was the basque that Rowena had worn to their illicit rendezvous in the hotel the evening before. There it had served its purpose well, driving Clarissa wild with lust for the fabulous body it garnished so alluringly. As instructed, Rowena donned it once again and returned to find a mattress now positioned in front of the camera. Its appearance was totally expected by her. She had been informed beforehand that the second half of the shoot would involve explicit sex.

  The mattress wasn’t the only new arrival. Melissa had vanished, and in her place waiting in the wings was a tall athletically-built youth, maybe ten years younger than Rowena, a towel wrapped around his waist.

  The photographer could hardly wait for Clarissa to give him the green light and start the proceedings.

  “Okay, everyone,” he demanded, a slight tremor in his voice signifying his own arousal. “Let’s get in position.”

  Legal Aid

  Suddenly everyone wanted a piece of Rowena Swift! The success of the promotional photo-shoot had been greater and more far-reaching than Clarissa and her team could ever have envisaged. With Rowena’s face and body plastered in suitably inviting pose on the Homepage of the Salome’s Garden website, the phonelines almost collapsed under the strain. The additional photo-montage showing Rowena in action with a young stud only added to her allure. It seemed like every horny male within five-hundred miles was desperate to take over where that lucky guy had left off.

  Rowena’s client list doubled almost overnight. Time management became crucial, and it stretched even Rowena’s insatiable sexual appetite to the limit. She quite literally fucked morning, noon and night in order to keep up with demand for her services. By the end of each day, she crawled into bed, often exhausted, yet she never closed her eyes without anticipating the arrival of a new day. She was behaving like the biggest slut in the history of the world, and she was lapping it up – in a manner of
speaking!

  “I’m seriously thinking of changing the name of the business to Rowena’s Garden,” Clarissa joked one day. “Every other call is enquiring after you. I’m really going to have to do the impossible and find some other sexy MILFs to share the workload.”

  “No rush,” Rowena smiled, and Clarissa tutted playfully.

  “Dirty slut, get out of here,” she laughed. “You have an appointment at Langsdon Manor at eight.”

  “Mm, sounds particularly classy. Who’s the client?”

  “High-flying legal type. Deals with a lot of big corporate law cases.”

  Rowena raised an eyebrow appreciatively. “And his dick is burning a hole in his pocket it would seem. Oh well, I guess he needs some help spending all that hard-earned cash.”

  “Ah, the client is a she,” Clarissa corrected. “Although it’s true, it’s the husband who needs the attention.”

  “Okay,” Rowena said slowly. It wasn’t unusual for wives to book her to help make up the numbers. “So, a threesome.”

  Clarissa shook her head. “Not quite. Seems like the good lawyer’s hubby is having trouble performing, and his considerate wife thinks you are the perfect remedy.”

  “I’m flattered,” Rowena said with a grin, and Clarissa shrugged.

  “Well, Rowena Swift, if you can’t get him up and running again, no one can!”

  ***

  Eleanor Reinhard’s expression was reminiscent of someone with constipation. The sour-faced late-forty-something eyed Rowena as though she were less than shit and turned her nose up in evident disgust.

  “Welcome to Langsdon Manor,” she said with not one ounce of sincerity in her tone. “Although I wish to make this very clear right from the start: your services are the very last resort. My acquiring them should not be considered an endorsement of…of prostitution in any way, shape or form. The fact that I have is merely a reflection of personal desperation.”

  “Right,” Rowena answered. “So what you mean is, you haven’t a had a decent shag in ages.”