Собчак наш президент

"Allow me," he said, dropping to the floor to retrieve my necklace. As he bent down, I noticed that his thighs were long, lean, and supple. I pictured his sinews rippling under the black of his suit. When he came up to fasten my diamond choker, his fingers on my flesh made me tingle, and I felt his warm breath caressing the skin behind my ear. Being this close to a good-looking man, I realized just how long it had been since anyone had touched me. My sexual feelings, dormant until now, began to stir. Oh, no, I thought. Not tonight. Tonight I need to be aloof, professional, dazzling. I don't want to be distracted by sex!

Olivier held the door for me as I collected my faux fur cape and clutch bag, and then we made our way down to the taxi. He was easy to talk to, with a dry sense of humor I liked immediately.

"So if anyone asks-which they will-where did we meet?" he asked me.

"I hadn't thought about that," I replied.

"Well, I usually find that saying we met at a friend of a friend's dinner party tends to work," he twinkled. "Hearing about other people's dinner parties is so boring, you don't generally get any more personal questions after that."

I had been worried that I'd hear the minutes ticking by and fret about what this was costing me, but Olivier was excellent value for money. In fact I didn't notice the hours passing at all. At the dinner table, he was excellent company, more than a match for the high-powered bankers I'd asked him to mix with, giving away little about himself but asking questions that made people feel important, flirting slightly with the other women but always keeping a hand on my arm to show he was with me. At the beginning of the evening, I found this hand a warm reassurance; by the time dinner was over, Olivier's touch was beginning to arouse me.

Two female colleagues approached me in the bathroom while I was reapplying my makeup.

"He's gorgeous," breathed one. "If you ever get bored, I'll take him!"

I didn't tell her that he was only a click away, but he'd had the desired effect: the men were impressed, and the women were jealous. I could have left then, and I would still have made my point. But I didn't want to. I wanted him to stick around a little while longer.

Liveried servants cleared the banquet tables and pushed them against the wall, turning the long hall into a dance floor. A band struck up a slow, sexy tune.

"Now," said Olivier, taking me by the hand. "Now we make them really jealous."

And he held me tight and swayed me in perfect time to the music. He took the lead, and I let my body follow his rhythm. I felt my shoulders and neck relax for the first time in months as his strong lean arms encircled my waist and pressed my body against his. Aroused by this closeness, I felt my expensive panties begin to get damp. As the warmth of his chest against my breasts made my nipples go hard, I wondered if he'd noticed my sexual-response system crunching into gear. But he didn't keep me in the dark for long, because he proceeded to place a hand on my ass, a move that made my pussy pulse urgently. With my head on his chest, I couldn't see his expression, but his hand trailed gently over my arms, shoulders, and back with a touch as tender as that of any real lover. He began to fondle my favorite erogenous zone, the back of my neck, the one spot that's always been guaranteed to get me horny. I don't know why, but the skin around my hairline and behind my ears is like a shortcut to my clitoris. As Olivier's smooth fingers played with my earrings and caressed me there, I couldn't help but let out a low moan of pleasure.

Olivier heard that all right and drew away from me. Before he spoke, he glanced down at my eager, swelling nipples, and I blushed. "Hannah, I must say," he began.

Embarrassed, I tried to cover up my desire, although my glittering eyes and parted lips must have betrayed it. "Oh, that was nothing," I said. "I was just, um, I was…"

Olivier interrupted me by pressing a finger to my lips, a teasing gesture that foreshadowed his kiss. I wanted to take that finger between my lips and gently bite and suck it. I tried to calm myself down with some deep breaths.

"What I wanted to tell you," he said, and as he whispered in my ear, his lips caressed that area of my body behind my neck that makes me go weak at the knees, "is that if you want to take this further, that's fine. It's usual for me to offer 'extras' to a client. We charge the agency for the time we spend until now, and then you pay me in cash for any personal time we spend together. And with you, Hannah, I'd be only too happy. Would you like me to take you home?"

My mind was saying, Hannah, there's a line between hiring an escort to a function and paying a man for sex. It makes him a prostitute, and it makes you… What does it make you?

Another little voice in my head said, Oh, but how thrilling would that be, having a man whose only interest is your pleasure! And it's so straightforward: no bullshit, just there to do your sexual bidding.