'Allure' - Chapters One and Two


Neal Cannon

This part of the UK is alien to me. I’ve never been here before, to North East England. I’ve visited London, on more than one occasion. I’ve even passed through Manchester once, a few years ago. All business-related, of course. None of my visits to Britain were ever about pleasure, and this one’s no exception.
  Walking over to the window I look out at the view from my hotel suite on the banks of Newcastle’s River Tyne. This suite is way too large for what I really need – a living room, bedroom and large bathroom is, perhaps, a touch extravagant, but I like luxury; I’m used to it. And I’m here for a week, so I want somewhere I can feel comfortable.
  I take a sip of mini-bar whiskey and continue to look out at the unfamiliar city that’s spread out in front of me. Night’s just beginning to fall but I’m too tired to venture outside. I can’t even summon up the energy to head down to the hotel bar. Whatever’s left here in the room will have to do. It’s been an exhausting day. It was a long flight, and I’m seriously considering an early night.
I down the rest of the whiskey and turn away from the window, heading over to the desk in the corner of the living room. My laptop’s already switched on so I start typing.
  I’m in a strange country.
  But it’s business as usual.

Kira Blu

I close my eyes as he pounds into me. He’s one of my regulars, and I never mind coming to see him when he’s in town because all he requires me to do is, quite literally, lie back and let him do all the work. Some days that’s all I can be bothered to do, so it’s a bonus when that’s exactly what the client requires.
  ‘Jesus, Kira!’
  I feel him come, and that’s my cue to give him the required amount of noise that lets him know I’m enjoying it too, but the truth is I’ve been doing this for so long now I feel numb to it all. I’ve just become a much better actress, but, hey, if it keeps them happy. And I’ve just earned over six hundred pounds for a few hours’ work that’s ended with me lying flat on my back while he sucks on my nipples, licks my pussy and fucks me in the most mundane way possible. But, like I said, he’s one of my regulars. I trust him. I like him. He’s a good man, he’s just not that good at relationships. In fact, I think I’m the closest thing to a relationship he’s got right now.
  ‘That was good!’ he groans, pulling out of me and rolling over onto his back. I sit up and place my hands behind me, pushing my tits out just a little bit, as a bonus, really. He’s still got some time left. If he wants to play a bit more I’ll let him. He’s my last client of the day. I’m feeling generous. After this I’m meeting some of the other girls downstairs in the hotel bar for a few drinks. We like to compare notes, talk about the good guys, and the ones we hope won’t try and book a repeat visit. Although, it’s our choice who we see. We just hate doling out rejection.
  ‘So, how long are you up here for this time?’ I ask as he turns onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow, his other hand reaching out to pull the covers clean away from me.
  ‘I’m heading back down south tomorrow. Bit of a flying visit this time, I’m afraid.’
  I carefully study his face. He isn’t a bad looking man – at forty-five years old with dark grey eyes, short, grey-flecked hair and light stubble covering his chin he could easily give George Clooney a run for his money. Which is fine by me. When the clients are easy on the eye it makes my job a lot more fun. But I know, since his divorce eight years ago, that he’s steered clear of any lasting relationships. I know a lot about this man; I know a lot about most of my regular clients. They don’t just come to me for sex or a no-strings-attached date, a fair few of them see me as someone they can talk to, and I’m fine with that. They’re paying for my time, and they’re free to use that time in whatever way they wish.
  I’ve been an escort for over ten years now, and it wasn’t exactly a career choice for me, but sometimes life doesn’t always turn out the way you thought it might. I’ve been doing this for a long time, but there’s a reason why I turned to this life. And it goes deeper than just me not being very good at relationships, either. I don’t want to be. That’s my choice. Keeping men at arm’s length is the way I like it. I hold the power in this game, and that’s important to me. When men book me they know exactly what they’re going to get, if they read my profile on the agency website thoroughly. I’m experienced, I’m popular, and I don’t have to do this every day of the week but in a warped kind of way I like it. It’s given me a good life. I’ve earned a lot of money; I have a nice home, lots of friends. And, most importantly, I have no ties, no commitments. The only person I have to keep happy, apart from my clients, is me. And that’s the way I like it.
  ‘Any idea when you’ll be back in Newcastle, Jason?’
  Make them think they’re missed. Make them think they’re your favourite client. Tell them what they want to hear. It’s all part of the job.
  ‘I’ll try and make sure they send me back up here in a couple of weeks. We do a lot of business in the North East, so that shouldn’t be a problem.’
  He runs his hand along my thigh, up over my hips and waist until he finds my breasts, and I allow him one more squeeze. But his time’s almost up now.
  ‘I should be going.’ I carefully remove his hand and stand up, giving him one more chance to check out my naked body as I stretch out, running my fingers through my hair. ‘But it’s been good seeing you again, Jason. As always.’ I flash him my best smile, and he returns it. He looks nice when he smiles. I find it hard to believe he hasn’t got women falling at his feet, this handsome man with the ridiculously well-paid job. So well-paid that he can afford to book me more than once during his regular visits to the North East. But then, I have to remember that he could very well be feeding me a pack of lies. He could be telling me anything, but it doesn’t matter either way. Single, married, whatever – it isn’t my job to counsel them. I just fuck them. They pay me to live out their fantasies, so who am I to question anything they tell me?
  ‘Make sure you keep some space free for me, OK? A couple of weeks, that’s all, and I’ll be back.’
  I give him another smile as I pull my dress back on. I never took the sky-scraper heels off. He likes it that way. A lot of them do. ‘There’ll always be space for you, Jason.’
  ‘That’s my girl.’ He grins, and I pick up my bag, double checking I put his money in there. ‘You have a good night, do you hear?’
I stop in the doorway of his hotel room and turn to face him. ‘I will. And you take care. OK?’
  I genuinely like this man. He’s been coming to me for almost five years now and it’s hard not to build up some kind of relationship – no matter how twisted it might be – with someone you see on a regular basis for that long. But I’m an expert at keeping a professional distance. I have detached down to a fine art. Give them what they want, yeah. But never give them too much.
  Closing the door behind me I make my way to the elevator and head down to the bar to meet Sindy, Ruby and Lily, three of the newer, younger girls who’ve recently joined the agency. Sometimes I feel like their mother, but at thirty-six years old I’m almost a decade older than them, so that’s only natural, I suppose. And I feel a certain sense of duty towards the younger girls who come into the business. We work for one of the most prestigious escort agencies in the region, but a lot of the new girls will come to me for advice; they look up to me because I know this shit inside out. It’s my world. God help me.
  ‘A tall glass of ice cold Cava, please, Frankie.’
  Most of the staff know us here. We’re familiar faces to them. They know what we do, and they don’t mind us being here because we’re discreet. We also look good, which never hurts, and we spend money. Quite a bit of money, sometimes, depending on the kind of day we’ve had.
  ‘Good night?’ Ruby asks, throwing Frankie – the tall, young, tattooed barman – a wink. I think she has a soft-spot for him, and I’m almost sure it’s reciprocated. I’m just not sure how he feels about what she does so whether anything’s going to progress past the winks and the smiles I have no idea.
  ‘I’ve just left Jason.’ I take a long sip of Cava and they all nod, because they know Jason’s one of those men I genuinely like spending time with. But I’m really tired now. Jason paid for a few hours today, because his visit is such a short one this time around. Don’t get me wrong, we didn’t fuck for the entire five hours I spent with him. That isn’t the way it usually works. Sex happens, sometimes, of course it does. But with men like Jason – and I see a lot of men like Jason – it’s the company they want, too. So we had dinner, we talked; by the time we got back to his room there was only a  little over an hour of his time left. But it’s all catching up with me now.
  ‘This one guy I had today asked me if I swallowed.’
  Sindy’s voice brings me back to the here and now and I look at her. ‘Did he read your profile?’ Every one of those men who consider coming to us should read our profiles on the agency website before they even think about booking us. If we don’t list it, we don’t do it. And, to be honest, over the years, as I’ve built up a regular client base and felt less of a need to take every booking that comes my way, my list has diminished somewhat. I don’t need to do all the things I felt I needed to when I first started out in this business.
  ‘He said he’d read it, but he asked if I’d make an exception.’
  ‘No exceptions.’ I look at the three younger girls beside me. None of them have been doing this all that long, but they’re clever girls. They’ve all got sensible heads on their shoulders. But I don’t think any of them are seeing this as something they’re going to continue once they’ve finished paying themselves through university. They won’t still be doing this when they’re my age. They won’t want to. It’s my choice I’m still here. I’m jaded and bitter and I need to do this. They don’t, I’m almost sure of that. ‘Once you start making exceptions word gets out and they’ll all start asking you to do it for them. Stick to what you’ve put in your profile. Don’t ever veer from that. And remember, if you feel threatened by anything or anyone you call the agency. OK? Or you call me.’
  ‘He seemed nice, though.’
  ‘No exceptions, kiddo.’ I drain the last of my Cava and slide down from the bar stool. ‘I’m calling it a night, girls. I guess this lady ain’t as young as she used to be.’
  ‘Oh, come on, Kira. It’s Friday night. We’re all going clubbing.’
I raise an eyebrow and throw Lily a sideways smile. ‘And you all go enjoy yourselves, but I’m going home now to catch up on some much-needed sleep.’
  ‘You working tomorrow?’ Ruby asks, holding her cocktail glass out to Frankie for a refill.
  ‘I’ve not got any appointments booked in as yet, and if I’m honest, I’m kind of hoping for a quiet day. But…’ I shrug, because nobody knows what tomorrow’s going to bring. Not in this business. ‘We’ll see how it goes. I’m keeping my calendar open. You all stay safe now.’
  I just want my bed. And something mindless and boring to watch on TV.
  This is my life.
  This is how it turned out for me.
  I want better for them.



It’s Saturday evening and I don’t intend to spend it alone. Yeah, it’s short notice, but it’s not like I haven’t used these kind of agencies before, both in this country and my own. There are always girls willing to meet at the drop of a hat. And I’m banking on the old American accent working in my favour here. That, and my undeniable charm.
  I’ve spent the afternoon checking out the websites of a couple of the more reputable escort agencies in the region – I like to do my research when I’m in a new town. I don’t want just any old girl. And I think I’ve found the one I want tonight.
  The list of things she’s willing to do isn’t as long as some of the other girls’, but I notice she’s been doing this for some time, and that intrigues the hell out of me. As does the fact there’s no photo of her face on her public profile, which isn’t unusual, but I, personally, have never met an escort without knowing what she looks like first. But this one – there’s something different about her. I don’t know what it is, I can just feel it. And I quite like the fact I have no idea what she looks like. I’m a risk-taker, and this is a risk I feel like taking tonight. The tattoo’s a definite turn-on, though. I might not be able to see her face on her profile, but the pictures that are there are showing that tattoo decorating one side of one hell of a killer body! I’ve never fucked a tattooed girl before, and now I’m kinda up for that. And her name – Kira Blu. Not her real one, obviously, but I like it. It has an edge. And I’m all for edgy. She’s also a little older than the women I usually book. I’m thirty-eight, but I normally like them a little younger than me; between twenty-three and thirty is my usual range. So, at thirty-six this lady is certainly making me break my own rules.
  I decide to bypass calling the agency to see if she’s free. There’s an option on her profile to contact her direct, which also isn’t unusual. It’s the escort’s own personal choice as to whether she’ll allow initial direct contact or not.
  I quickly punch in her number and wait. She answers after just a couple of rings. Good start.
  ‘Kira Blu.’
  ‘Hey, Kira, I’m Neal – a stranger in town who’s looking for some company tonight, and, I was wondering if you were free.’
  ‘Did it say I was free on my calendar?’
  Whoa! A feisty one. But, man, that accent! I’m hard just listening to her. ‘Yeah, it did, but you seem to be a popular lady. There’s every chance some other guy could have got to you before I did.’
  There’s a slight pause down the line before she laughs quietly, and even that’s sexy-as-fuck. I gotta meet this woman or my cock’ll never forgive me.
  ‘What kind of company are you looking for?’
  I sit back in my chair and look out over a view I’m becoming more used to now. ‘Well, I thought dinner, here at my hotel, then back to my room for drinks…’
  ‘Is that all?’
  I know what she’s asking, but I also know that, legally, it isn’t always wise to openly discuss sex over the phone. Even hinting at it can be risky. But I want sex. Of course I want sex. ‘We can talk. If you like.’
  She laughs again, and she’s already got my cock on red alert. But she knows what I’m trying to say here.
  ‘I’m assuming you’ve read my profile, on the website.’
  Yeah. I’ve read her profile. And like I said, she might not offer the longest list of services, but she’s willing to do enough to keep me happy. ‘Why don’t we just play it by ear, huh? See where the night takes us.’
  ‘How long were you thinking of booking me for? Minimum is two hours for an out-call.’
  She gets straight to the point, I’ll give her that. It’s like planning a business transaction and, to be honest, I’ve never had this before from any escort I’ve used in the past. It’s fucking turning me on like crazy! ‘I’m not sure, exactly…’
  ‘I don’t work like that I’m afraid. I need to know how many hours you want me for.’
  She really is one hell of a businesswoman. And I’ve never wanted to fuck someone so bad in my life. ‘Let’s say five hours. That OK?’ She’s not the cheapest, and five hours in her company is gonna set me back the equivalent of over nine hundred dollars, but I’m beginning to think there’s a reason for that. I’m guessing she’s gonna be worth every cent. And I can afford her.
  ‘Which hotel are you staying at?’
  ‘The Draysman, down on the Quayside. Do you know it?’
  ‘Yes, I know it. What time do you want me there?’
  ‘Eight 0’clock. I’ll meet you in the main bar downstairs. I’ll be wearing dark pants and a white shirt. I’m a dark haired, blue-eyed guy, and I’m sporting some light stubble right now. So, you gonna tell me what you look like? So I can recognise you?’
  There’s another slight pause, followed by another small laugh. I’m guessing this lady isn’t quite as hard as she might like to come across. ‘I’ve got long, dark-blonde hair which I’ll be wearing loose. And I’ll be in a knee-length, strapless black dress and high-heeled ankle boots.’
  ‘Great.’ She knows how to dress for the occasion, then.
  ‘Travel expenses will be extra, seeing as this is an out-call. You did see that on my profile, didn’t you?’
  ‘I read your profile twice over, honey.’
  ‘Good. You’re new, so I don’t want any confusion.’
  ‘There won’t be any of that, darlin’. I can promise you. See you in an hour.’
  ‘An hour.’
  She hangs up and I smile, keeping the phone to my ear for a few more seconds before throwing it down on the desk.
  I’m looking forward to tonight. This is how I get my kicks. No commitment, no ties, no feelings to get in the way.
  This is how I get my kicks.
  Strange women, great sex.
  That’s the way I like it.
  And that’s the way it’s gonna stay.


I’ve seen a lot of men in all the years I’ve been doing this, but I’ve never spent time with an American man. Not that it matters. I don’t care where they come from as long as they pay up front and are clean and polite.
  Walking through the huge revolving doors of The Draysman Hotel – one of the most exclusive hotels in the city – I give my hair a small shake so it falls down around my bare shoulders, and stride confidently towards the main bar just off reception. I’ve been here countless times over the years. I’m on first name terms with the general manager, the doormen, the concierge and most of the reception staff so I always feel comfortable coming here. They know me. And they know I’m discreet enough to make sure nobody knows why it is I come here so often. I use this hotel for in-calls sometimes. I never use my own home. The agency has an apartment which some of the girls use, but I rarely go there. I don’t like it. It always feels seedy to me, and no, the irony of that doesn’t escape me. I know what it is I do. And I know how it must sound to people who don’t understand this world. But the last thing it needs to be is seedy. I’m not a prostitute, although I know many who would argue with that. But I’m not. What we do is safe and controlled, for both the girls and the men who use our services.
  I stop at the entrance to the bar, and I don’t really know why. I never usually stall, I just walk straight in there and get on with it. Tonight though, for some reason, I feel the need to stop and think for a minute. But the moment soon passes, and it’s business-as-usual as I head inside – shoulders back, head up, smile firmly in place. It’s time for Kira Blu to do her stuff.
  The bar is packed, which is no surprise, given as it’s a Saturday night, and I slowly scan the room, looking for the man who’s due to be my companion for the next five hours. The place is full of a mix of people from couples to groups of girls and the usual scattering of businessmen. Yes, even on a weekend there are a few of them still here, be it still on the business they were initially sent here to do, or whether they’ve taken it upon themselves to extend their stay, for whatever reason. But I’ve been that reason, on more than one occasion. So I can recognise these men a mile off. I’m sensing the man I’m meeting tonight is different, though. He’s American, for starters. That doesn’t mean he can’t be from around here, of course, but I’m almost certain he isn’t.
  My eyes move to the bar, and that’s when I spot him. Straightaway. I know it’s him. Dark pants, white shirt, sleeves rolled up over his forearms; dark hair just long enough to brush the back of his collar. He’s talking to a man seated on the stool next to him, and for a second I just watch their exchange. And I need to take that second, I really do, because at first glance this man who’s willing to pay six hundred and fifty pounds for dinner and a meaningless fuck – because I know he wants sex, I got that from our earlier conversation – he’s probably the most incredible looking man I have ever laid eyes on. So incredible, in fact, that I have to swallow hard to dislodge the breath that’s caught in my throat, and I silently curse myself for that brief and unfamiliar moment of weakness. I’ve been with a lot of good-looking men in my time. This one will be no exception.
  I start to walk over to him, and as he slowly looks up our eyes lock, and I have to quickly swallow again to dislodge another trapped breath.
  He stands up and comes over to greet me, placing a hand on my hip as he stops in front of me, pulling me closer as he leans in to plant a feather-light kiss on my cheek. Act like we aren’t complete strangers. He knows the drill. He’s done this before. But the second his lips touch my skin I feel my stomach give an unexpected jolt, and I ignore it. I’m at work. This is business. He’s just another client.
  ‘You must be Kira.’ He smiles, and I’ve never seen a smile like it. It changes his entire face, in that it seems to make him even more attractive. If that could be possible. The only way I can describe this man is impossibly handsome. I mean, seriously, he needs women like me? He must have a queue of them waiting to snap him up, but that’s not for me to question. His reasons for booking me, they’re his business. ‘I’m Neal. Neal Cannon.’
  I return his smile, and once more ignore my misbehaving stomach as he rests a hand gently in the small of my back, his fingers splaying out as he guides me towards a secluded table in the corner, waiting until I sit down before he takes a seat. A gentleman. I’m definitely not the first escort he’s used. I can always tell the ones who are experienced in this kind of situation.
  ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve ordered a bottle of champagne.’
  I smile again. I can’t help it. He’s one of the few men I’ve genuinely felt instantly comfortable with. ‘I love champagne.’
  His eyes meet mine, and I can’t help but notice what a truly beautiful colour his are; piercing blue with tiny flecks of gold. An unusual eye colour for someone as dark-haired as he is.
  ‘And I’ve booked us a table in the restaurant for nine 0’clock. I hear they do a great lobster here.’
  ‘They do, apparently.’ Although I’ve never had the pleasure of trying it. Maybe I’ll get a chance to change that tonight. I just wish I felt more hungry. My appetite’s suddenly waned somewhat. ‘I know the chef.’ I’ve fucked the chef, but, hey, his money’s as good as anyone else’s.
  He raises an eyebrow, his mouth twisting up into a slight smirk. ‘You haven’t tried it?’
  I lean forward, resting an elbow on the table and my chin in my hand. ‘Not yet. No.’
  He laughs quietly, our eyes still firmly locked together. There’s an electricity fizzing between us that I’m still trying hard to ignore, but I can’t help looking forward to dessert, and not the kind they’re going to serve us in the restaurant. Enjoying the sex is a perk that doesn’t happen too often for me, but I’ve got a feeling tonight could be one of those nights. If he fucks as good as he looks I’m going to be one very lucky woman in a couple of hours’ time. I’m almost hoping he’s a fast eater. Dinner can’t be over too quickly as far as I’m concerned.
  ‘I’ll go see where that champagne’s got to, huh?’
  I watch as he swaggers over to the bar, his hands in his pockets, every female head in the room turning the second he walks past. He could have any woman he wants. Yet he chooses to pay for someone like me. And I can’t help but wonder why.


She’s beautiful. And when I say beautiful, I don’t mean just pretty or easy on the eye; she is stunning. I don’t know what I was expecting – she’s a popular escort, so I guess I wasn’t expecting plain. But she’s got my guts in a fucking knot so tight I had to make some excuse to get up and take a few seconds to breathe.
  I collect the champagne and glasses and head back to our table. She’s checking her phone, but the second I sit back down it’s in her purse and her attention is fixed solely on me. She knows how to play this game, which is probably why we’re both so comfortable in each other’s company already. Yet, there’s a part of me that isn’t sure how to handle this one. I had a feeling she was gonna be different to any escort I’ve used before, but I wasn’t counting on this.
  I want to ask her so many questions, but I know that’s off limits, unless she initiates that kind of conversation. Which I really hope she does, but there’s something about her that’s telling me she may be a touch guarded. I don’t know why, I just feel it. She’s giving off something that’s saying don’t get too close, but that could just be the nature of her job. I’m paying for dinner and sex; this isn’t a real date. And I don’t want it to be. I haven’t dated for over six years and I like it that way. Keep your distance, don’t let anyone get too close.
  ‘So, I’m going to take a wild guess and say that I don’t think you’re from around here. Am I right?’
  I laugh, and she smiles, and I want to forget dinner. ‘You’re right. I’m originally from AustinTexas, but I live in New York now. I’ve got an apartment in Manhattan, but I’ve also got homes in Los Angeles and Las Vegas, too.’
  She raises an eyebrow, and I wonder if that was too much. Did she need to know that? Did it make me sound like a conceited dick with way too much money? I’m just good at what I do, that’s all. I’m guessing she is, too.
  ‘I’ve always wanted to go to Vegas,’ she says, taking a small sip of champagne, but her eyes never leave mine. It’s the biggest fucking turn-on, I tell you…
  ‘I think you’d like it there.’
  I think I’d like it between her beautiful legs, and that’s where I intend to be, in a very short space of time. Room service is looking more likely by the second, and I don’t know whether she can feel it too, but there’s something happening here. And I have no clue what it is, but it’s so hot I can almost feel it burning my skin.
  ‘Are you really hungry?’ she whispers, leaning in closer to me and I breathe in her perfume – a musky, sexy smell that just makes me want to fuck her even more.
  ‘No. Not at all.’
  ‘You’re not even curious about that lobster?’
  I can’t help but give her the widest grin, and she returns it.
  The message is clear now.
  Dinner’s off the menu. 

© Michelle Betham 2015

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