They walked down Oxford Street amongst the usual cosmopolitan crowd but any close
observer would have been seen them as being ill matched.
Linda Holmes was a tall, dark haired, reasonably attractive, thirty two year old
woman, modestly but quite expensively dressed. Her companion, Jake Hill, barely looked his
twenty years and was garishly clad in purple jeans, beige shirt and green cotton jacket
that hung loosely from his shoulders. He had a rather pinched face with a sharply pointed
jaw line and short cut, thinning hair. He affected designer stubble that was not very
effective, given his somewhat immature features. A further difference showed in the way
they comported themselves. He literally swaggered, his eyes meeting those of the many
pretty girls passing by in an overtly challenging manner; she seemed extremely nervous,
occasionally glancing at him with a shy smile but mostly looking straight ahead.
He took her arm and pressed it reassuringly.
“Don’t worry, darlin’. You’ll enjoy it. You said you wanted thrills. Now you’re
goin’ to have a big one.”
His accent grated on her a little, though she knew that she was being unfair. He
was an east Londoner and it showed in the tinny whine of his vowels. He did not normally
drop his aitches, nor did he badly maul his grammar, but his accent was still Cockney. To
someone as aware of class as Linda, his mode of speaking was a minor irritant.
She knew that in these enlightened days a regional accent should not matter but the
plain fact was that it did. And not just to her. Her own accent was impeccably Home
Counties and when they went to an expensive restaurant, she often caught a sardonic look
in the eyes of the Maitre‘D when Jake spoke. The situation was highlighted by the fact
that she always paid. Half an hour ago they had left the Art Deco splendour of the
Café Royal, where they had lunched well and expensively; but she had recognized the
studied contempt of the waiter as the bill had been presented to her. It was quite clear
that she was pegged in the eyes of such people as an older woman with a gigolo. A woman
who had to pay for sex.
It was not, she admitted to herself, an unjust assumption. He was a gigolo in the
sense that she always did the paying and he rewarded her with marvelous sex. Where he
differed from the conventional role was that he increasingly set the terms of the
relationship.
“Here!” His voice was abrupt and he was indicating an alleyway to the left, leading
off Oxford Street to what looked like a minor square.
Her breath caught in her throat. She had never been happy about this but he had
insisted and in spite of her superior age, education and sophistication - not to mention
financial status - he usually seemed to get his way.
“Jake. I’m not keen on this. It’s risky.”
“Adventure always is,” he grinned and at that point he exchanged knowing grins with
a mini skirted young beauty approaching from the opposite direction. “Bet she’d do it like
a shot.”
Linda bit her lip in vexation. She was certain that he enjoyed intimating to her
that if she would not play his games then other- usually younger - girls would. The worst
part was that she believed that his confidence was often justified. He undoubtedly had a
way with women.
They turned down a short alleyway, leaving the bustle of Oxford Street behind them,
and were soon entering a small, shabby square, surrounded by drab, four story buildings,
that looked as if they were used for warehousing or offices. The pavement around the
perimeter of the square was narrow and there were unloading ramps fronting some of the
buildings. Piled high rubbish bins lent a derelict air to the area and there seemed to be
no people about.
Jake turned and grinned at her. “Where does madam want to do it?”
Linda gave him a weak smile. “Madam doesn’t want to do it - at least not here. Come
on, Jake. I know it’s Saturday but there may be people working overtime in those
buildings. And it’s not that warm.”
“There’s a doorway over there. It’ll do.”
“Jake? Please?”
“Get over and get your clothes off. All of them.” His voice had sharpened and he
was frowning.
“Jake. I’m scared. Anyone can walk down from Oxford Street -”
“It’s unlikely. You said you’d do it. Now do it.”
She pursed her lips in frustration and then walked across to the doorway, which was
quite shallow and afforded only a limited degree of privacy. There was a faint smell of
urine in the doorway. It occurred to her that this was the sort of place that people
caught short, in sudden need of a toilet, would use. A quiet spot just off the teeming
thoroughfare of Oxford Street. There was a used condom lying on the dusty floor just
inside the door and she kicked it outside, frowning with distaste as she did so
She slipped off her coat and looked around for somewhere suitable to put it.
“Just put everything on the floor. This ain’t exactly the Ritz.”
She pulled a face but obeyed, though folding the coat neatly and placing it well
away from where the condom had been. She put her leather handbag on top of it. Then,
reluctantly, she began to unfasten the front of her button through dress, slipped out of
it and added it to the pile. The only good thing about this situation was that she had
known what was going to happen and had dressed accordingly. She wore neither slip nor
stockings. It flitted through her mind that the supercilious waiter at the Café
Royal would have been even more condemning if he had known what was to happen to her after
the elaborate and expensive meal, which she had enjoyed with Jake. Now she was going to be
fucked in this shabby doorway in a dirty square just off Oxford Street.
Linda took off her bra, showing shapely, if not over large breasts and frowned at
Jake who made an obscene gesture at her. With a graceful movement she slipped off her
panties. She posed, for him, hands on hips and one leg pushed forward in model mode. It
was a pathetic attempt to avoid displaying the depths of her embarrassment and she could
not avoid shivering in the cool air.
“Shoes,” he snapped and she kicked them off angrily, now totally naked and annoyed
that he never compromised one iota. Her eyes scanned the entrance to the square, hoping
fervently that no one would appear. She also gazed up at the windows surrounding the
square, knowing that she would be clearly visible from many of them if anyone were
watching.
Linda had a good body even though she rarely either exercised or dieted. Her
breasts were high, firm and moved seductively; she had a small waist, slender thighs and
long legs. Her best friend, Fenella, who was in the fashion business, had told her that
if she exercised a bit more she would have had a perfect model figure. But Linda enjoyed
her food and her wine and knew that physical exercise would inevitably have to be
supported by dieting. She could wait a few years before starting down that path. As it
was she carried a few pounds too many and thought her bum was too big. She could live with
that. Her dark, short, urchin style hair gleamed and matched the thick triangle of equally
dark hair at her pubis. She was a woman who looked good for her thirty-two years.
“Not bad,” he grinned lounging against a wall and evidently enjoying having this
much older woman at his beck and call. “ Nice tits and slitty little cunt. Now, turn round
with your back to me and let’s see your bum.”
Linda had played these and similar games with him in the seclusion of the bedroom,
but that was hugely different from performing in a public place. She knew he liked talking
dirty to her and humiliating her. Having a much older woman as his sex toy clearly turned
him on. It was too late to complain; she had made the difficult choice between indulging
him and losing him and there was no turning back. In private, she was usually compliant to
his demands though they were becoming increasingly bizarre. It was wholly different,
performing obscenities in this exposed area with the ever-present possibility of
discovery.
Nevertheless, after a momentary hesitation, she obeyed, turning and automatically
pushing her bottom towards him in the manner that he frequently demanded.
“Push it harder towards me. It’s a nice arse - let’s see it properly.”
She gritted her teeth and pushed her buttocks further towards him, knowing the
order which would come next.
He moved forward, hooked the pile of clothing with one foot and pulled it into the
road beside him. The clothes entangled with the used condom, though with her back towards
him she did not notice that particular aspect. Nevertheless she did see her clothes pulled
away and she straightened up with a gasp of protest. She was now well separated from them
and would have to step out of the doorway to regain possession.
“Stay!” he snapped. “Get back in position!”
She hesitated, resentment flowing through her. As so often before, he was treating
her like a tart. Nevertheless she bent and thrust her naked buttocks towards him. She
could not help thinking of the thousands of people promenading up and down Oxford Street
only a few yards away.
“Pull ‘em open. Let’s see your cunt and arsehole. Come on. I’ve seen ’em, touched
’em, smelled ‘em and fucked you stupid. If you don’t do what you’re bloody told, I’ll
bloody kick your arse. Or maybe I’ll just walk away and find a young woman.”
Always the emphasis on her age. Linda flushed with humiliation at the deliberately
cruel words but she obeyed and bent forward, pulling the cheeks of her buttocks as far
apart as possible. A cool breeze seemed to slide between her widely divided blowing
gently on her most intimate orifices.
“Bend further. I can smell ‘em but I can’t see enough of ‘em.”
Again she gritted her teeth at the coarseness which he employed so assiduously, but
she bent further forward and tried to pull her buttocks wider for his inspection.
She had to stand like that for some time, allowing him to view the jutting, thick
lips of her labia and the brown, puckered button of her anus. She had had plenty of lovers
before but no one else who could have made her display herself so obscenely - never mind
in this sort of place.
Jake,” she begged. “It’s cold. Please - if you’re going to do something -?”
“Oh. Is the cold making you want to pee?”
She knew that he would like to see pee and the cold was having its effect.
“No,” she lied. “But - you know - please …”
“Ask me nicely - very, very nicely.”
She knew exactly what sort of words he wanted. The bastard was a genius at
humiliating her.
“Please, Jake - I need a good fucking. Please put that wonderful cock up my cunt.”
“Suppose I fuck your arsehole instead? The only thing you’ve had up there is my
fingers.”
She shuddered. “No. Please, Jake. I’m just not into that. And it’ll hurt.”
His tone sharpened.
“You’re into whatever I want. Understand, slut?”
“Yes, All right, Jake. But not here though, Jake - please.” She had no intention of
ever letting him enter her anally but this was no place or time to argue the matter.
At that moment a middle-aged man accompanied by a similarly aged woman came round
the corner leading into the square. They could not look directly into the doorway but they
could see the naked female buttocks protruding from it. Jake whirled towards them.
“Sod off, you bloody voyeurs. Never seen a bare arsed woman before?”
The couple scuttled back out of sight but Linda was flushed with embarrassment.
“Come on, Jake. They might go to the police or something. Please let me get
dressed?”
“No way,” he growled then he stepped forward and pushed her against the door.
Grunting, he shrugged off the jacket then dropped his trousers and underpants. She let out
a little moan and put a hand down to grip his penis more because she wanted to get this
episode finished than because of any degree of lust. Rarely had she felt less sex
inclined.
“That’s better,” he grunted then put questing fingers between her legs. “Fucking
hell,” he growled. “You’re dry as a bloody bone. Play with yourself for God’s sake.”
“Those people scared me. And it’s the cold,” she pleaded. “I’ve got goose pimples.
Please, let’s go home. You can do whatever you want there.”
“I’m going to do whatever I fucking want here,” he snapped. “Get your legs open -
no - wait - get down and suck my cock. Make it good and wet otherwise you’re going to get
a dry run - and that’ll bloody hurt.”
With a sob of despair she dropped down on her knees and took the thickened penis
into her mouth. Fervently she wished she had never consented to this escapade.
And it was then that she caught sight of the light flashing periodically from one
of the windows opposite. She guessed immediately what it was and she made to rise.
“Someone’s at that window behind you. With a camera!”
He pushed her down and held her.
“So they don’t know you and you don’t know them. Who cares?”
Linda was frantic with embarrassment. “I care. I’m not a bloody peep show.”
The idea of being watched in this situation was anathema to her. She pushed herself
clear of him but lost her footing and sprawled backwards out of the doorway. He stood over
her snickering with amusement and to make it worse she realized that she was now full
frontally exposed to the hidden photographer; she saw the flashes intensify.
“You’re still a bloody willful bitch. I’m going to buy a whip and use it when you
don’t do as you’re told.”
She did not reply but angry and ashamed, she regained her feet and began to dress
hurriedly, the need to get away from the hidden cameraman driving every other
consideration from her mind. When she found the used condom entwined in her clothes she
swore briefly but pungently.
“Shit!”
She plucked a tissue from her handbag and cleaned her clothes as best she could,
then wrapped the condom in the tissue and flung it into the road.
Jake did not try and stop her dressing and seemed amused at the whole situation.
Linda, however, was set faced, angry and humiliated.
When they finally walked back towards Oxford Street he stopped on the corner of the
square and gave a two-fingered salute towards the hidden photographer who had ceased
operating once Linda had dressed herself. There was one final flash in reply.
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