Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 24

There were reputed to be some ‘hot’ cabaret shows to be found (they used to be family shows, but more recently had become ‘adults only’.) Off limits or not, after a brief discussion about the pros and cons, we decided to go for it, finished our drinks and hailed a taxi. When we asked him to take us to a ‘good’ venue in The Square, he was reluctant at first. He knew we were not really allowed there. If he was ‘caught’ by the MPs taking us into a ‘no go area’ he could be blacklisted from operating on the SBA, a huge financial loss to him. But the promise of a ‘very good’ tip convinced him, and it was game on.

As requested, he dropped us at a cabaret bar. I do not recall for certain, but it was probably the, infamous, Kit Kat Club. We paid our cover charge and found an empty table and ordered a round of, expensive, drinks. Instantly, the bar girls descended on us, like flies on shit. We weren’t playing that game just now though, and after much verbal sparring, they eventually gave up on us, leaving us to watch the show in peace.

The acts were ‘okay’. A few vocalists, singing a mix of Greek and popular English language songs. And there were of course the obligatory strippers and topless dancers. To be honest, I don’t know what we’d expected, but they were no more sexual than were the girls in our ‘normal’ strip joint. True, a couple went full nude, which only left us wanting more, but we knew these girls were totally untouchable!

Soon, even the seemingly endless parade of bare tits and fannies got boring, and the drinks were a ripoff, so we decided to get out of there and see what else we could find. We mooched around The Square, passed the famous Rialto Theatre and delved into the side streets, where the working girls operated, unusually yellow lights, showing availability were used here, not red. We were ‘tempted in’ at several addresses, but walked on, finding a pavement bar, where we all ordered a bottle of Keo beer. As we sat drinking them, we were approached by numerous pimps and drug dealers, trying to part us from our money. All were declined, until one wasn’t.

We were approached by a middle aged Cypriot man, who offered to take us to “…very nice, very clean girls.” Max, the third member of the group unexpectedly exclaimed “Fuck it guys. This is what we came here for, isn’t it. To get laid. Who’s in?” Phil and I looked at each other questioningly. I was gobsmacked at the suggestion, but he shrugged his shoulders and nodded to Max, OK.

Remembering my experience with Pat, I was not comfortable with the thought of paying for it again, so remained silent. But when the other two rose to follow the pimp, I was even less comfortable with idea of remaining on my own in that dodgy area, so had little choice but to follow them.

The pimp led us back into the main square, then down another side street, to the door of, what looked like, a private residence. He opened the door and took us down a short hallway, past three or four side doors, into a bare room, with half a dozen plastic chairs, and a coffee table, sporting several overflowing ashtrays. The waiting room? He disappeared back the way we came, stopping at one of the side doors for a quick, rapid-fire conversation in Greek, before exiting the building.

Oh shit! I was in a trap, in a brothel. How was I going to get out of this. I tried to raise my objections with Max and Phil. Offered a few lame excuses. Even tried to claim poverty, only having enough money left to get back to barracks, which backfired at once, as they both stuffed a ‘sub’ in my hands to pay the dues.

Moments later, one of the side doors opened and two women came out, I could not describe them now if my life depended on it. A few pleasantries were exchanged, before they took Max and Phil, who had stood to greet them, by the hand and led them to their individual rooms.

I had found myself left alone after all. But not for long. After a couple more minutes, another door opened, and my ‘Lady’ came to find me. I should, have just paid her off and left, but some unknown force held me there. It was most likely my cock leading the way. She smiled invitingly at me, and the trap was sprung. I was going nowhere right then.

What my pre-conceptions of what a working girl should look like, I am not sure. Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, she was not. In fact, she was the very antithesis. She was tiny, barely 5-feet in her bare feet, which she was. Lady had a typical Mediterranean appearance, with an olive-coloured complexion, dark eyes, prominent cheekbones, and almost black hair, worn loose just below her shoulders. Her trim waist topped womanly hips, on which hung a loose thigh length skirt and from which emerged shapely, but short legs.

But it was above the waist where my eyes were riveted. A plain, short sleeve, button through blouse, tucked into the waistband of the skirt, was struggling to contain her tits. Absolutely huge tits! They bulged over the top of a lacy white bra, forming a valley in which a bloke could die a happy man.

Both the situation and the sight of her breasts had rendered me speechless. No, worse than that, I was absolutely terrified. She spoke to me once, twice. I did not register her words. She sensed my fear and hesitation, smiled and gently took my hand in hers. “It’s okay,” she mewed, “We can do this. We can do this together. It’s not a problem.”

I am not sure of her nationality, but she spoke perfect, if accented English. With a gentle tug, she directed me towards her room. Silently, I allowed her to do so. Again, I do not know what I was expecting, but it was not what I saw. Sure, the room was spartanly furnished, but it looked and smelled clean. A couple of easy chairs stood either side of a small chest of drawers, and against the wall opposite the door the, I guess, obligatory double bed. The bed was tidily made and the bedding looked clean and fresh. If you find yourself about to fuck a prostitute, I can imagine far worse places to find yourself in.

The business side of the event was got out of the way immediately, and my money was spirited away before I realised it had gone. I do not remember the exact size of the ‘tip’, but I do recall it was ridiculously little, considering. That dealt with, the pleasure side of the event started. There was to be no preamble. Time is money I suppose. I was shaking like a leaf when Lady stepped in front of me. She knew I was still very nervous, and as she started to undress me, she whispered soothing words to me. Again, I did not really take in the words, but the sound of her voice was starting to relax me.

In moments, I was naked and feeling quite exposed, with my, by now, rampant cock sticking out in front of me. After draping my clothes over one of the chairs, Lady moved in close to me, placed a hand on my shoulder and with the other, took a grip on my throbbing penis, making me shudder. Working on pure instinct and muscle memory, I lent in towards her, going for a kiss, earning me another sharp rebuke, “No kissing!” A rookie error, and I was suitably chastised, but in compensation, Lady slowly started to rub my cock, working the foreskin back and forth.

After just a few moments of wanking me, Lady jockeyed me towards the bed and told me to lie back and enjoy! She shed her blouse, skirt and knickers. She left the bra on, which disappointed me immensely. She knelt on the bed to my right and again gave my dick a few more strokes with her hand, just to make sure it was still working. No fears there, it was hard and proud, despite my internal turmoil. It knew what it wanted, I though, was still quite conflicted. But my dick won in the end.