Nicola Jane - Follow Your Fantasy - Deeper

She picks something up from the back of the sofa and hands it to you. It's a slippery mass of silk in red and white stripes.

'Matching bathrobes!' You're touched and then embarrassed at how pleased you sound.

'Two for one offer at Nordstrom's,' she says. 'Chill out. There isn't an engagement ring hidden in the pocket.'

You cover the surface wound with a smile that you hope is convincing and look around, uncertain if she expects you to undress now.

'Shy?'

As usual, she calls you on any sign of weakness or hesitation, giving you that feeling of predictability again. You shrug instead of answering her question, which tells her that shy is exactly how you're feeling.

She doesn't seem to mind though and indicates a door to the side of the living room.

'Help yourself,' she says and curls her legs under her on the sofa. 'To whatever you like.'

You cross the room, slip off your shoes at the door and then open what turns out to be her bedroom instead of the bathroom you'd been expecting. It's exactly as you'd imagine the stereotype escort's room and is clearly designed for clients. Black satin sheets are stretched taut on the bed and piled high with cushions. A mirrored ceiling reflects the bed below and fake fur rugs surround it on three sides. There are photographs of nudes on the walls that manage to be both tasteful and explicit. You recognise Giselle in every single one. It occurs to you that, the same photographer could take those kinds of pictures of you with similar results since you look so alike. You're just not sure if you could pull off some of those poses with the same attitude of challenge and come-fuck-me expression.

The bathroom opens off to the side of the bedroom and continues the theme with subtly sparkling granite tiles and silver fittings. You automatically shut the door even though the adjoining bedroom is empty. You can't help feeling self conscious in someone else's house. Your hand is on the lock to slide it closed as if you're in a public place. You pause. Who are you trying to keep out? There's only Giselle here unless she's got a client hiding in her kitchen. Do you even want to keep her out?

Lock the door. Use a vibrator alone.

Leave the door unlocked. Giselle joins you and shows you how to use vibrators. She invites you to the photo shoot the next day.

3

Your fingers need to do less work to make a phone call which gives you less chance to back out.

The second it's ringing your stomach goes into freefall. This was a mistake. If she doesn't answer, you'll spend the rest of the night jittery over whether she's going to return your call and paranoid about why she isn't.

It rings on and you wonder why it doesn't go to voicemail. It shouldn't come as a surprise she's too busy to answer. She's hardly likely to be sitting around, staring at her phone at this time of night. Not like you.

She'll know it's you calling as the one, almost personal, thing she did do once was take your photo and add you into her contacts. She'd taken a photo and shown you it before she saved your number. You'd been smiling, shy, at this sudden glimmer that she might count you as someone she knew, maybe even liked. The innocent expression contrasted with the way she'd angled the shot to take in your braless breasts, the nipples pointing through the thin top you were barely wearing.

She'd shattered that naïve schoolgirl hope as soon as you'd got your phone out to do the same thing with a typically derisive comment. 'Wouldn't want to waste my best sexy voice if I know it's just you, would I?'

You'd pretended to check yours for messages and then stuffed it back in your bag, reminded yet again that this was someone you'd never know even if you had had her breasts in your mouth and played with her until she was wet.

You're halfway to pressing the end call button before you realise she's actually answered it.

'Hey, baby,' she purrs in the throaty voice you've heard her use with clients but she'd never have any reason to use with you.

'Giselle?' It's a stupid question. Not only is it her number you've just rung but you know her voice even if it is the vamped up version.

'Baby, I've been hoping you'd call!'

What? Giselle doesn't sit around hoping for a call from you! You're so nonplussed by her enthusiasm that, even if you'd prepared something to say, the words would be dangling uselessly from your lips now.

'Er…ah…I…' you stall feebly. Now, she's going to remember why she reserves no small amount of disdain for you. And then you start to hear what else is audible on the line.

For a start your ditherings are echoing as if you're on speakerphone. But also, there's heavy, exerted breathing near the microphone. And now you think about it, Giselle's voice had sounded further away than the breathing so it can't have been hers.

There's someone else there.

Then, as if to confirm your suspicions, Giselle starts to pant and moan. You listen in, feeling as if you've been invited to rather than being a forgotten audience waiting for one of you to hang up. Maybe you should hang up though. But, if you know anything at all about Giselle, it's that privacy during intimate moments is not high on her priorities.

The man's breathing is louder and you can hear the light slapping sound of skin against skin. Then she starts speaking again, but away from the phone.

'Want me to carry on?' Her voice comes low and far enough away that you have to strain to hear what she's saying to whoever he is. 'Or want two of us to finish off?'

Two of us? There's someone else there as well? You can't understand why she picked up the phone in the first place. You're just about to hang up when there's a scrabbling sound and she speaks directly to you again.

'He wants us both.'

'Both of who?'

'Both of us! Or both of me, I guess, since you started being my twin.'

'Oh, right !' Now you get it.

'That's a yes, doll?' She doesn’t wait for an answer. 'Get over here then '

There's none of the usual mocking challenge to get you to admit you want to break out of your Goody Two Shoes life before she lets you into hers.

She repeats the hotel name twice without any attempt at giving you details. It's completely in character for her to tell you as little as possible, or to give you some detail solely to unnerve you, but something about the way the call started with such obviously fake delight niggles at you.

"Well?" she asks. She's sounding more and more like her usual self as the call goes on.

Something isn't quite right about the switch from BFF to normal Giselle. It's not the terseness that's the strange part, it's the enthusiasm. Unless that was just for the client's benefit, you suppose. You can either pass up on the offer, although it was more like a command, and pluck up the courage to try again another night, or go and see for yourself what's happening. Whatever it is, it certainly won’t be as boring as sitting at home all dressed up with nowhere to go.

Accept. Go to the hotel. Giselle and her companian are watching you in the lift. They ask you to put on a performance for them.

Refuse.

4

At the hotel lobby, you scope the layout while pretending to look for something in your bag, like your room key. Sailing through as if you own the place is the only way to pass as someone with the money-built confidence to belong here. The slightest hesitation and they'll spot you for the interloper you are.

And an intruder into another world is certainly what you feel like. The high concept white and platinum décor and dim up-lighting is the kind of minimalist design that takes maximum spend. Scrabbling in your bag is not giving off the sure-of-yourself vibe you're after, so you aim straight for the lift which opens immediately.