Sex in a Recession

A few weeks ago, a well known professional switch passed on a couple to me. She is no longer able to see them, as she has recently entered into a new relationship, and marks on her body have become an issue.

Before my visit, she told me that the couple were about 70, looked younger, and saw her in order to spice up their sex lives. As it turned out, we really hit it off. He is a musician and author, and together, they sell antique jewellery and handbags on the Portobello Road. This immediately endeared them to me, as I love writing, and retro.

He wanted to play with me first, then fuck his wife in front of me. It turned out he liked to play hard, but was very respectful of my limits. It was really a process of exploration for us both, since this was a first meeting. It quickly became obvious that I was never going to be able to take the cane to the degree he would like. 100 strokes? You have got to be joking. And I bruise very easily. He went hard enough, but not as severe as it could have been, and my tender flesh was very definitely marked. This does not concern me at all. In any case, he was pleased with me, because I am quite a find for one particular reason. I like face-slapping, and whilst I can't take much of a caning on my backside, smack me silly round the face, and I am happy. And remember, it's not romantic unless you cry. Apparently, most girls don't do that kind of thing. So maybe I'm not a "nice" girl, after all.

I can't say that any of this thrilled me in an especially moist way, but my love of the bizarre ensured that this was time well-spent. So I simply bent over the cushions on the bed, marvelling at my life, and considered how it came to pass that I found myself on a strange bed, being caned by a man in his 70s with a strong New Yorker accent.

I was then sent out to fetch his wife. And I can confirm that old people do it in pretty much the same way young people do, so there is hope for us all.

When I returned home, I found an email from them, informing me how much they liked me, how perfect I was, and how I had a job for life...

Fast forward to this week.

I receive a call informing me that I am perfect, and they love me, but the dealer who buys the majority of their stuff has gone bankrupt, owing them a substantial amount of money... They will be living on their savings now, and can only afford to pay me £100. My fee is £200, and indeed usually higher than that, but I gave them a discount because a friend referred them to me, and that was what she charged.

I am oddly consumed with guilt that I am going to have to refuse them, but £100 for what I do just isn't going to cut it.