Date: Thu, 15 Mar 2012 08:49:24 +0100
From: Amy Redek <adultreading@gmail.com>
Subject: Magenta. Part Eight

  This story is for persons of eighteen years or over.  All comments, good
or bad, are welcome and all will be answered.

  Part Eight

   I think Samantha got a bad report from the man to whom I was an escort
that night. For when he tried to hit on me at the end of the evening, I
told him to stick his cock up his own arse and therefore get the
satisfaction of coming and to know what it felt like having it too.

   I was kept busy for the next few weeks, having the odd man who attracted
me but rebuffed the ones I didn't. There's only one I should mention and
that it was because he was the only man I ever asked money from. For the
life of me now, I cannot even remember his name, but I'd been his escort
for the evening and we had just emerged from the restaurant we'd dined at
with some friends of his when, as we waited for a taxi, my purse was
snatched.

   I screamed out at not only that it had been stolen from my hand, but the
fact he had wrenched my wrist in the process. My escort took off in pursuit
of the thief as I stood there massaging my wrist while the door man looked
on helplessly. My escort came back a few minutes later apologising that he
had lost the fellow in the late night crowd.

   The taxi that the doorman had got for us had been held and we got in and
went to his hotel. He was such a nice man and kept apologising for the loss
of my purse and that he wanted to make amends and that turned out to him
fucking me as though that was some compensation. The purse had only had ten
pounds in cash inside and a few cosmetics so it wasn't really worth crying
about and if him giving me the benefit of his cock would help, he was
wrong. But still, I let him have me and when it came for me to leave I
realised the situation I was in and felt rather debased at what I had to
do.

   `I'm sorry to ask you this,' I said when I had got dressed. The time was
about three in the morning. `But I need to get a taxi to go home and I
haven't any money since it was in my purse.'

   `Oh, I'm sorry Magenta. My wallet's on the side. Take as much as you
need.'

   `Thank you,' I said and went and opened it. There must have been at
least three hundred pounds in it so I didn't feel any compunction about
taking fifty pounds out to pay for my purse and the cosmetics as well as
the tenner I had lost that evening.

   That was the only time I ever asked a man for money while being out on
escort duty, sex having taken place notwithstanding.

   Then came the phone call I had been waiting for though it came at the
wrong time really. I was in a local gym having a massage after a short work
out and I'm sure that the masseur, a man, had been itching to get his hands
on me for some time.

   Well, I had given him his head, which he was now using down between my
thighs, tonguing and mouthing me as I lay on the table when the mobile went
off with its stupid little jingle. I was just able to reach it without
stopping that tongue lick me out. It was Samantha.

   `Magenta! I've just had Sir Malcolm ask me if you had your passport
yet. I said yes and he wants you for tomorrow.' I shot up straight, nearly
strangling and smothering the masseur as I did so. His tongue forgotten as
I had this sudden thrill run through me.

   `What did he say?' I asked, relaxing and letting that poor sod breathe
again.

   `Can you be available, to which I said yes, for tomorrow morning at
eight o'clock at the agency. He's paying double fee so I said you will be
there.'

   `What about tonight?' I asked.

   `Forget about tonight. Be here at eight sharp and be bright and breezy.'
I snapped the phone off and lay back and saw the anxious eyes of the man
between my legs.

   `What are you waiting for?' I said, thinking of tomorrow more than what
I was doing now. `Get on top and fuck me. That's what you've been waiting
to do, isn't it?' He couldn't believe his luck and was soon on top fucking
me with a tool that I wouldn't have used to even try and open a locked door
with. But he had his oats and would forever jerk himself off to the memory
that he had fucked one of the most beautiful girl's of the town.

   I went to bed early that night and was up bright and early and had a
lovely scented bath and did my hair and made sure that my make-up was
perfect and was at the agency just before eight. The fact that it didn't
open till eight by one of Samantha's secretaries, she had two, didn't faze
me as I stood in the porch and got a thrill as I saw the big limousine come
down the road.

   Malcolm didn't even wait for the chauffeur to get out of the car but
opened the door himself to invite me in. With the door shut and the car
moving as I settled down he spoke to me.

   `It's lovely to see you again Magenta.'

   `The pleasure's mutual,' I replied.

   `You now have a passport and you've got it with you?' he asked. I pulled
it out of my purse and waved the brand new thing in front of him with a
grin. `Good. Because we are going to France. Cannes to be exact.'

   France! Cannes! Where they have the film festival's. Was it a festival
now I thought? `When this meeting was proposed, I thought of you,' he said,
breaking into my thoughts. `It's a business deal that I must get sorted
quickly, so it's only out there and back again I'm afraid. But it gives you
the chance to see the clouds from the other side as it were.'

   `And join the Mile High Club at the same time, in that bedroom you told
me about?' I asked breathlessly. He laughed.

   `I think you have since found out exactly what you said to Lady
Margaret?'

   `I know. Awful wasn't it? What a gaffe I made,' I laughed.

   `Well I could do with more gaffe's like that. It's certainly kept her
off my back and Cynthia off hers.' I laughed with him and hugged his arm in
the car as we drove to the airport where his plane was waiting.

   We drove onto what I have found out is called the apron to stop by a
sleek, low slung jet plane that looked as if it could fly to the
moon. Steps were down and Malcolm waited until the chauffeur opened the
door for us to get out of the car and Malcolm took my arm and guided me to
them and let me walk up them on my own. I didn't have to duck my head as I
went inside and a young man said hello and turned and led me to one of
eight seats that was all it contained in this little tube.

   Malcolm sat down next to me as the eight seats were arranged in pairs,
four to a side. I had butterflies flying around and doing all sorts of
crazy things to my insides as I sat down next to a small oval window.

   `Already,' I asked as his hand began to fumble in my lap. He gave out a
bellowing laugh.

   `No. You have to belt up first,' as his hands began going round my hips.

   `I haven't said anything yet, but I'll keep quiet.' I replied which made
him laugh even more.

   `As I think I've already said Magenta, you are a treasure. What I was
referring to was your seat belt. It is part of the law that you have a seat
belt fastened tightly for take offs and landings,' he explained as he found
the two ends he was looking for and then clipped the two together. `Is that
tight enough?'

   `I don't know. I haven't had it yet.' This cracked him up and he gave a
signal to the steward. He turned and was back in a trice with an open
bottle of champagne and two glasses. As they were being poured, I saw a
white shirted man with epaulettes on his shoulder shut the outer door and
then disappear up into the front somewhere. I took the proffered glass and
the steward's hand flipped down a bit of plastic in front of me that was
attached to the seat in front of me and realised that it was a small table.

   `Hey, that's a neat idea,' I cried after taking a sip of my champagne
and got the fizzy bubbles up my nose again. That's when I used this little
table to put my glass down on as I sneezed. A handkerchief suddenly
appeared before me and I wiped my nose with it. `Will that always happen
when I drink champagne?' I asked Malcolm who was grinning at my discomfort.

   `No. The secret is not to breathe in through your nose when you take a
sip,' he laughed. I grinned as I handed back his handkerchief. `I'll keep
it handy in case,' he said.

   I gave a jump in my seat when the engines fired up and I grasped his
arm. `What's that?' I cried in alarm.

   `It's just the engines warming up.'

   `Are they always that loud?' I asked.

   `Not when we are up in the air. After a time you get used to them.' Then
I felt a jolt and I looked out of this small window.

   `We're moving,' I cried, my hand still clutching his arm, and I watched
fascinated as I saw various buildings go past and then there was just open
ground and we trundled along to a few bumps and we just seemed to be going
on forever. `Is he going fast enough to take off?' I whispered. Again he
laughed.

   `We're not on the runway yet. This is just like a side road that takes
us down to the end from where we actually take off.'

   `How will I know when we've taken off then?' I asked.

   `You'll know. Believe me, you'll know,' was the reply and I looked out
of my window as the plane swung round and I briefly saw a long strip of
black, scorch marked tarmac that seemed endless and disappeared into the
horizon then all I could see was a grass patch that was lying flat, having
been forced to grow that way from repeated blasts of jet engines. The
engines built up into a howl and with a jolt, we began to move.

   I felt myself thrust back into my seat as we surged forward and I
watched the ground suddenly become a blur as we hurtled down the runway and
then all of a sudden, the ground was falling away very fast and appearing
to go sideways as well as backward as the pilot took us into a fast turn as
he gained height. I found I was still clutching Malcolm's arm very tightly
and he gently pried my fingers off and he rubbed his arm where I had
gripped him tightly.

   I watched in awe at the fields that were getting smaller and I was
seeing more and more as we went higher. Then there came white wisps that
whipped past my window and over the wings. More of them appeared and then
suddenly, the whole world outside was a white sheet. I guessed we were in
the clouds and was just about to turn and ask him about them when we broke
through and there, limitless, was an undulating field of cotton wool,
spreading as far as I could see and the sky above it was of a colour blue
that I'd never seen before.

   `It's wonderful,' I breathed, my nose glued to the window as I watched
these clouds keep changing shape and then saw the heavens which seemed
close and yet so far away. It was only the angle of the plane as I felt in
my seat that I knew we were still climbing higher and higher, then noticed
that the soft blanket of snow was falling back away from us.

   `How high are we?' I whispered to him, the noise of the engines now
muted to a dull roar low enough for him to hear me. He pointed to an
illuminated sign at the end of the cabin as I learnt it was called. There
were numbers showing up red and kept changing, forever going up.

   `Twenty one thousand feet and still climbing,' he said, and I could see
the numbers changing in that upward climb, getting slower and slower as the
pilot approached his cruising altitude and watched it settle at twenty
eight thousand.

   `How high are we now, in miles I mean?' I asked.

   `Just over five.'

   `Does that mean I can join the club five times?' He laughed.

   `You should be so lucky. Let's just settle for the Mile High Club for
now if you want to,' he asked, taking my hand.

   `Yes please Malcolm. I'm wet already, just from the take off.' I tried
to get up from my seat and he laughed at my struggle and released the
safety catch on my belt and helped me out of my seat. He led me to the rear
end of the plane and opened a door and there was his bed at the back end
and waiting to be used. He gently eased me in and closed the door behind
him. I bounced on the bed and looked out of one of the windows to see the
white clouds far below us.

   `Oh Malcolm. How do I say thank you for this?'

   `By getting undressed,' he said, pulling off his tie and starting to
undo his shirt buttons. I couldn't get my clothes off quick enough and was
ready naked on the bed before he finally revealed his erection to my
gaze. It was of average size but that didn't count for nothing for it was a
man's organ up and ready for me to have.

   He was quickly into my arms and I felt his hardness slide up my thigh
and find the wet path that my inner body had already created for him to
find his way. Then he entered me, filling me with that lovely hard organ
and I gave out a great sigh and glanced upwards and could see that clear
blue sky as his body came to rest on mine with him deep inside me.

   `Welcome to the Mile High Club,' he said as he kissed and begin to fuck
me. Not only was the plane vibrating, but so was I at the thrill of having
this cock inside me so high up above the earth. I gave him his money's
worth though I was getting paid for it by really lifting myself up as he
thrust down so that our bodies clashed as we rolled and fucked in this
magical flying carpet. I felt myself building up and tried and managed to
hold it back till he came and we both cried out together in our joint
orgasm.

   I was filled with joy, as well as sperm, as we separated and lay back to
regain our breath, to know that I was now one of the few that was in the
Mile High Club. When I say few, it might amount to a million people, but
when taken in context of how many people are flying round the world these
days, not many get to join, and so I felt of myself as now being one of the
elite in this respect.

   Not having flown in a large passenger plane I could only presume to
think that the only place you could join would be in one of the
toilets. Now if they are smaller than those on a train, how do they manage
it? I was that naïve, for when I did get to see a toilet of one of these
planes, reckoned that one of the people taking part had to be somewhat of a
contortionist to do it and then I didn't think there would be much
satisfaction albeit to say that you've had a cock come inside you at X
amount of miles up in the air. This way was better, on a bed and having the
room to move and really enjoy sex so far up above the clouds than in a
cramped closet.

   We lay on the bed and I teased him by saying that he might have been
better in taking Lady Margaret up in the plane and that he would then have
been able to have got shot of her and Cynthia in one go. He thanked me
again for doing it myself as he stroked my breasts while I played with his
balls on the bed and we made small talk until a disembodied voice announced
that we were just about to begin our descent.

   `Cannes?' I asked excitedly

   `Yes. In about thirty minutes,' he replied giving me another hug and
squeeze before getting off the bed to start getting dressed. I realised
then at how small the world was becoming as I got dressed myself. In three
hours of flying we would be in the South of France when it takes that much
time by train if not longer, just to get to Southend from where I lived.

   We went back into the cabin and sat down where we were served with
another glass of champagne which I was fast becoming accustomed to.

   `I thought that all planes had stewardesses on them to serve drinks and
whatever?' I whispered to him when the steward was out of earshot.

   `I did and most planes do, but they also employ male stewards as well,'
Malcolm explained. `The reason I now only have male stewards is because I
began to get fed up with the sexual innuendoes from the females. It wasn't
just the fact that they were prepared to open their legs for me, they were
also angling to have a little band of gold on one particular finger of the
left hand. So now it is only males that I employ in that position.'

   `But I've heard that most of them are gay?' I still whispered to him.

   `True,' he laughed, `but they can't get pregnant and then expect me to
marry them, can they?' I wanted to ask more but a light came on above our
heads that said to fasten our seat belts, which Malcolm now showed me
properly how to do it, and then I could see land below us as we came down
through the clouds and I could see the sea, and I would have jumped up and
down in my seat if it hadn't been for the restraining belt across my
lap. Malcolm laughed at my exuberance as the plane banked over the sea and
went down closer and closer and I thought that's where we were going to
land.

   But suddenly we flashed across a beach where I could see people
sunbathing and then it was roads and then fields, or rather I should say
grass and it seemed to come up towards us rather fast. Then it was the
black tarmac with white lines that was beneath us and I felt a double bump
and we were down on the runway, still going too bloody fast for my
liking. But we slowed down very quickly and soon turned off onto one of
these side roads as Malcolm had called it and began to coast towards the
terminal.

   `My God, that was fantastic,' I said to him, still gripping his arm. `I
nearly came in my pants coming across the beach.' He laughed and again had
to prise his arm loose from my grip as buildings came into view and we
coasted to a stop.

   Malcolm helped me out of my restraint and up into the aisle and we
exited the aircraft and I heard him say to the steward that he would like
some strawberries for the return flight that evening. There was a car
waiting for us and we got in and I got out my passport ready and then
realised that I hadn't even shown it when we left England, but now I was in
France, so I had it out ready for them to put one of those rubber stamp
marks inside it. Boy, was I disgruntled when we were waved straight through
some kind of check point and then found we were out on a highway.

   `Bloody hell,' I said, turning to Malcolm. `What was the point of me
going to all that trouble to get a passport and nobody's even looked at it
yet?'

   `Believe me,' he laughed, `you'll need it to get back into England. They
don't mind people leaving, it's those who are coming in they are more
worried about.' And then I realised that he was right in what he had
said. It was more important to be able to get back home and not have any
fuss and be mistaken for someone trying to smuggle themselves in for
whatever reasons.

   These thoughts distracted me from what I should have been looking at and
that namely was the different scenery and suddenly became alarmed that we
were driving on the wrong side of the road. Malcolm took great pains with
me as I must have been one up in the arse at being so stupid in the ways of
the continent to explain the difference. Before we knew it, we were out
onto a wide expanse of concrete and there was the harbour that was full of
yachts and all sorts of sea going craft.

   The car pulled up and the door opened for us and we got out at the
harbour's edge to where there were a few stone steps down to a launch that
was waiting for us. I gingerly went down these steps holding tightly onto
his hand as they looked rather slippery and dangerous to me and another
pair of hands took over as I stepped onto the side of this launch.

   We hadn't even settled ourselves down before a rope was thrown back
towards us, and as the man at the front caught it, the boat moved off away
from the shore and it suddenly roared and took off as though it was
attempting to fly.

   Everything seemed to be happening too fast for me to take it all in as
we bucketed our way across the harbour, spray flying up from the bow and
the water close by the side passing in a blur. The wind, fortunately was
blowing my hair away from my face, doing I not know what damage to my
hairstyle, and I could see that we were heading for what looked like the
biggest boat in the harbour anchored out there ahead of us.

   `Is that where were going?' I shouted to Malcolm trying to be heard
above the noise of the passing wind, then spitting because I'd taken a
mouthful of spray.

   `Yes. The Voyager,' he shouted back, as the helmsman throttled back for
us to glide in a graceful curve round to come up to a lowered gangplank.

   `It's big,' I said, not having to shout now.

   `About sixty foot. Crew of six, or could be eight, I've not counted
them.'

   `You've been here before then?'

   `Yes, once. Our host is Augustine, Greek I believe.' With that last
piece of information, we glided up to a smooth practised stop at the foot
of the gangway and I was assisted up onto the deck of this yacht Voyager.

   `Welcome Malcolm. On time as usual,' a swarthy looking man greeted us as
we made it to the deck. `But you have surpassed yourself this time without
a doubt,' he said, speaking to Malcolm but looking at me, windblown and
feeling a right mess.

   `Welcome er...'

   `Lady Magenta,' Malcolm supplied, much to my surprise.

   `Lady Magenta. Welcome to my humble home from home as I believe you say
in England,' he continued, taking my hand and kissing it.

   `Thank you Mr Augustine, but if this is humble, then I live at the wrong
end of poverty street,' I replied.

   `Tut tut Magenta,' Malcolm chided me. `Take no notice, her Ladyship
likes to jest,' and laughed as he talked to Augustine.

   `She is the niece, well second niece to Lord Bulstrode who is with us in
this venture, and I can assure you that having two castles to maintain is
no small feat. But as my Magenta here comes from the lesser of the two
draughty old places, anywhere where there is the sea and sun is a most
welcome change, isn't that so Magenta.'

   I had a sudden flash of Joe and Abe having coming from the Southern
States and what they would have said, and that being that their Mama didn'
raise their chillun' to be stupid.

   `Oh Malcolm!' I said giving his hand a slap. `Now you've gone and spoilt
it for me. Here I was about to play the poor stranded waif that you'd
befriended and throw myself at the feet of Augustine and beg that he take
me away from the tyrant that you are,' I said as I went to my knees still
holding onto the hand of Augustine. The both roared with laughter as
Augustine helped me up to my feet and pounded Malcolm on the back.

   `Well done my friend, well done. Come and meet the others as we are just
about to have a drink before lunch.'

   Augustine finally let go of my hand and I felt the arm of Malcolm come
round my shoulder and give me a hug as we were led along the deck and into
the inside of this fabulous yacht.

   `If I were the marrying kind...' Malcolm whispered in my ear.

   `Which thank the Lord I'm not Sir,' I said, finishing the opening lines
of a well known rugby song. Please! I might be stupid in some things, but
there are some things I have learned in my short life. Well he gave me
another hug and then we were inside this yacht of Augustine's and it was
like a miniature palace.

   Now this is where I show my ignorance for I cannot name the type of wood
that was the panelling or the type of fabric that looked so rich with its
embroidered designs. The small pictures that were on the walls looked so
old and dark that they must have been worth a fortune. I always thought
that Constable was a policeman, Vermeer, a kind of furniture polish and
Renoir the make of a French car.

   But it takes time to learn and I was now getting into the stratosphere
where this was going to be important to me in later years if I wanted to go
higher than the station to which I had been born.

   The room we were in I learned was called the saloon, not to be mixed up
with the alternative to the public bar in a pub. The carpet was thicker it
seemed than that what Malcolm had in the corridor outside his office. There
were two men there dressed in shorts and gaily coloured shirts as was our
host and three females of ages I couldn't even begin to guess, but would
say that they were all under twenty, dressed in very short almost
nonexistent bikini's.

   I didn't catch any of the names as they were spoken so quickly and
before I knew it, I had a drink in my hand. Thankfully it was a gin and
tonic and not one that I would have to find a convenient flower vase to
kill off whatever plant was growing there.

   `Lady Magenta?' It was one of the girl's by my side.

   `Magenta please. Drop the lady bit,' I said as I smiled.

   `Well, come down below and get comfortable, you must be quite hot in
your clothes. We have many costumes for you to choose from.'

   She was quite right in that I was hot in my present clothes and I did
seem rather out of place amongst the almost naked females there. As it
turned out, I was almost naked too after I went through what there was to
wear. It must be the done thing on the Riviera to wear something, but the
least being the best.

   The bikini bottoms were no problem but the top half, well, all I could
find was still a size too small, but I had to make do with that. The girl
spoke very little English really but I got the gist of what she said when
she saw my tits in full bloom as it were and I even think she made a pass
at me, but I'm not quite sure on that bit.

   So, half naked, I went back up to the saloon to finish my drink and was
there when Malcolm emerged from somewhere else dressed in shorts and a
horrible shirt that looked as if someone had barfed all over it.

   Even as scantily clad as the other girls, I was still the odd one out by
being almost pure white to their golden peanut brown body colouring. Mind
you. Malcolm looked as almost ridiculous with his white legs and arms as
opposed to the other men.

   I would have thought it would be man woman man etc, round the dining
table, but it wasn't. The men sat together at one end of the table and we
girls at the other. I was glad when it was over and we, that is the girls,
could then go up on deck to lie in the sun, the men staying below to do
their business for which was the whole purpose of coming out here.

   The girl who had helped me with my costume was helpful in applying sun
lotion to my body, but tended to have her hand linger a bit longer than
necessary up at the tops of my thighs and under and around my breasts. I
started to object when she began to take this top off, but as the others
had discarded theirs, mentally shrugged my shoulders to say that when in
Rome...

   She paid more attention to my breasts than Dorothy, Walter's wife had
done in the past, but I knew she wasn't going to get anything, so I lay
back and let her massage the oils into them as I could now feel the sun
doing its best to make me brown.

   She eventually gave up when she saw that I wasn't going to respond to
her ministrations and I was left to lie there and soak up the sun. The
slight rocking of the boat and the sound of gentle waves slapping the hull
as well as the warmth from the sun, lulled me into a deep sleep.

                                                             *