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.

But my body made the choice for me, drowning out both of these voices with a rush of blood to my head, my pussy, and my tits. I nodded meekly, and with that he took his finger away from my mouth, ran it slowly over my lower lip, and then pressed his lips to mine, gently at first, so that the kiss radiated heat and pleasure from my mouth right through the rest of my body. His hard tongue softly parted my lips and swirled around in my mouth, slowly and politely at first but then probing my own tongue and teeth with what seemed like a very real and increasingly urgent desire. So, I smiled to myself, as I pushed my own tongue against his and tasted the inside of his mouth, this goes to disprove the old saying that whores don't kiss.

"Shall we go?" he inquired. I looked at the clock. It was a quarter to midnight. The function would be ending in fifteen minutes, but there was no longer any need to hang around here. As Olivier and I disappeared into the night, I knew that my colleagues would all be talking about Hannah and her amazing new man. But although I'd hired Olivier to impress them, I no longer cared what they thought; right now, all I could think about was the effect he was having on me. As Olivier hailed a taxi in the street I noticed again his long, lean legs, shown off to perfection by that sharply tailored suit. In the backseat of the cab, he kissed me again. Tenderly. Sensitively. And worth every fucking penny.