2011 – London – Chapter 1
As Angela Candelema strolled down the bustling streets of East London, her effervescent smile seemed to capture the attention of nearly every passerby. She exuded a youthful charm and optimism that uplifted the spirits of those fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of her. At twenty-four years old, Angela possessed a vitality and enthusiasm for life that was truly infectious.
Hailing from the vibrant city of Barcelona, Angela was a vision of beauty at five feet six inches tall. While her height may have fallen just short of the runway, her striking features—accentuated by her dark complexion, captivating black eyes, and cascading brown curls—ensured that she commanded attention wherever she went. Her smile, radiant and genuine, had a way of making everyone she encountered feel as though they were in the presence of true beauty.
Despite her undeniable physical allure, Angela’s focus lay primarily on nurturing her intellect. Armed with a first-class degree from Cambridge University, she possessed a keen desire to delve deeper into the realm of education. Rather than succumbing to the allure of lucrative offers from soulless investment banks, Angela chose a path less travelled: she embraced a role as a primary school teacher in East London. Simultaneously, she embarked on a journey of academic pursuit, pursuing a part-time master’s degree in education with aspirations of one day becoming a respected academic in the field.
On this particular Saturday, Angela’s schedule was as vibrant and dynamic as her personality. Having just concluded her morning coaching session with the schoolgirls’ hockey team, she was now en route to a dance class—a refreshing alternative to the monotony of the gym, where she relished not only the physical activity but also the pulsating rhythms and the camaraderie of collective movement.
Following her dance class, Angela had plans for an evening rendezvous with Peter, a promising young surgeon who had arranged a reservation at one of central London’s premier restaurants. While she looked forward to deepening their connection, she held firm to her intentions of maintaining a respectful pace in their relationship.
Tomorrow’s agenda was equally packed with purpose. Angela had committed her time to volunteering at a children’s event, followed by tutoring music to earn some extra income—a responsibility that weighed on her mind amidst the challenges of London’s high cost of living, exorbitant rent prices, and the demands of her modest teacher’s salary.
Despite the financial strain, Angela was determined to carve out her own path without relying on her parents’ benevolence, though their support was always warmly offered. Instead, she harboured a desire for them to enjoy their retirement years without the burden of providing for her.
Chapter 2
“What are you doing up there? I need help down here; you come down here at once!”
Edward Pembroke scowled. He had been furiously masturbating over his laptrop screen when the shrill voice of his mother interrupted him.
“You looking at porn again, I suppose! You need to find a girlfriend instead of living up there like a hermit. Help me! Now!”
Pembroke sighed. He had not been close to cumming, but was masturbating to the Facebook profile of one Julia Meadows, an American student from Idaho. That morning he had logged on through the onion dark web to his favourite website, “Pink Meth.” The site was a revenge porn site, where videos of girls naked and/or having sex were posted along with their social media details, and the contact/social media details of their friends, family, and co-workers.
Pembroke had grown to love the site and the community it fostered. He was most excited when a new girl would be posted. Julia had been posted less than an hour ago. He had no idea who had posted her or who she was, but as soon as he saw her, he quickly looked her up on Facebook. She was a university student at the University of Michigan and an aspiring dentist. He saw numerous photographs of her on Facebook with her family and friends, and she looked happy. She was gorgeous, blonde, tall, and slim.
Her new Pinkmeth profile, created in her name, was a little different. The photographs were of her naked, in bed, one with her fingers in her pussy, another of her in doggy style, her face turned back over her shoulder, so the photo captured her pussy, ass, and face in one shot. There was also a video of her naked, lying back, fingering herself, and one hand cupping her breasts. She looked drunk. The video and photographs had obviously been taken by a sex partner.
Like most of the girls, the photographs had been leaked, stolen, or been posted directly by the guy who had taken them. Juia would soon find out about this posting, which was what Pembroke was eagerly looking forward to. As soon as he had seen the new posting, he had saved all the photos, the video, and her name. He also saved the contact details put up about herself, her Facebook friends list, and her family. He saw that she was part of some university groups and saved those too.
The first inkling the girls usually got, that their intimate photos were now plastered for everyone to see, would be friend requests from random men around the world. “OMG why are all these guys suddenly friending me lol” one girl had posted on her Facebook wall. Pembroke smiled as he had seen that post. He knew the girl was very soon going to realise her life would be changed forever. Half an hour later, her Facebook and LinkedIn were completely private, confirming that she had become aware of the photos.
Julia Meadows was currently in that strange twilight of having her intimate photos up, but not yet being aware of it. As soon as she was up, the comments underneath the profile sprang up, with men praising her appearance and boasting of how they had “done their bit” for the community by posting her pictures online. Some just posted them anonymously around the internet, like nuggets waiting to be found by those who knew her. Others tagged her name or added her name to the photos. Others went even further, using fake social media profiles to send photos to family members, employers, and friends whose details were helpfully provided alongside the profile. They would boast of this with screenshots, sometimes showing responses from angry and distraught parents and friends demanding that they leave their daughter/friend/girlfriend alone and take the photos down.
On this occasion, Pembroke had uploaded Julia’s photos to a few sites and saved them to his hard drive. He liked to think he was helping the community. He enjoyed the feeling of ruining and exposing a young woman, and the knowledge that from now on, everyone Julia knew, or would ever know, would now be able to see her naked. Her photos would be seen and sent to all her employers, and friends, and she would not be able to stop it or control it.
The site could not be shut down. Pleas from girls, to have their profiles and photos taken down, were ignored. The girls would come to know that the photos and videos would now follow them around forever. If they had children, or planned to have children, then they would have to tell them about the photos before they saw them themselves. There were several dedicated members of the community who went out of their way to track the kids down and send naked photos of their moms to all the kids’ friends.
Pleading emails and messages from the victims would be published on their profile. Their begging would only turn on the men even more. Pembroke found it the ultimate high, the ability to destroy a beautiful young girl’s life by posting her naked body everywhere on the internet.
And the best bit? It was legal. Revenge porn was not an illegal offence in the UK or anywhere. While the site was on the dark web, the despairing young women found that they had no legal recourse anyway. They did not own the photographs and were powerless, knowing that their photos would be shared thousands of times. Anonymous men, who did not know them at all, were committed to spreading their naked bodies everywhere to shame them.
Pembroke had been staring at the screen, looking at the naked form of Julia Meadows, and the postings of her on dozens of websites already, the growing number of Pinkmeth comments, and the boasts of other men about how much they had spread her about. He switched back and forth from these to Julia’s Facebook profile, that of an all-American young woman living life at her fullest, waiting for the sword of Damocles to fall on her.
Pembroke had been addicted to the site for nearly a year now. His favourite victim so far had been an American professor whose naked pictures had been unearthed from 1986 and uploaded to the site. She had apparently continued to lecture, and Pembroke had kept checking her profile. Some comments had come from her students who had commented that she no longer chatted after lectures but left straight afterwards. They made posts about how the university had emailed everyone about the danger of sending nude pictures.
Pembroke enjoyed the vicarious thrills of seeing the hot young women’s lives being ruined while masturbating over their incredible bodies. He loved the fact he was helping to seal their fate by sharing their photos but did wish he could find his own victim, partly for the thrill but also the perverse altruism of helping out this toxic community.
Ruefully he knew it would be unlikely he could convince any attractive woman to undress for photos or send him such photos. He was fifty, fat, and lived with his bedridden mother in rural Essex. He had never had much luck with women, had never had a girlfriend and other than prostitutes, his only female company was his overbearing mother.
“Edward! Stop dallying! Come down here now!”
Pembroke turned the laptop off, tucked his erection into his trousers, and went downstairs. He would have to help his mother clean up after going to the toilet. Nothing was more likely to kill horny thoughts.
Chapter 3
As Angela Candelema slipped into her pyjamas on Sunday evening, the lively chatter over evening tea with her flatmates lingered in her mind. Among them were Teresa, an Italian model and actress, and Gillian, a driven young investment banker—each a testament to the vibrant tapestry of ambitious young women making their mark in London’s social scene. Their conversations spanned from gossip to Angela’s blossoming romance with the charming surgeon, painting a picture of a life brimming with excitement and activity.
Yet, beneath Angela’s outward vivacity lay a persistent concern: the perpetual strain of financial constraints. Despite her relentless pursuit of part-time work, the earnings fell short of satisfying her aspirations for exploration and enjoyment. Faced with this dilemma, Angela contemplated an unconventional suggestion from Teresa—entering the realm of escorting—a proposition that conflicted deeply with her moral principles and self-image as a role model for her students.
Moreover, the impending visit of her cousin Daniel, who harbored dreams of experiencing London’s sights despite his family’s modest means, added to Angela’s turmoil. The prospect of fulfilling Daniel’s wishes weighed heavily on her conscience, especially considering the significant financial burden it entailed.
The following day Angela immersed herself in her role as a beloved teacher at the school, where her influence extended far beyond the confines of the classroom. With a mere glance, she commanded the respect of even the most unruly students, while her vibrant personality endeared her to all. Clad in conservative yet colorful attire, Angela exuded warmth and approachability, endearing herself not only to her students but also to their parents, who couldn’t help but be captivated by her charm and genuine interest in their children’s progress.
Despite the admiration she garnered, Angela carried the weight of her inner conflict discreetly, her unwavering dedication to her morals and obligations evident even amidst the facade of her effortlessly charming demeanour.
As Angela reviewed her bank balance after a long day at work, a sinking feeling washed over her as she realized the grim reality: after settling her rent, she was left with a mere hundred pounds to cover her expenses. Panic set in as she meticulously combed through her calendar, mentally tallying the mounting costs of her commitments and the added pressure of fulfilling her promises to Daniel.
Faced with the daunting prospect of juggling her financial constraints with her desire to provide a memorable experience for her cousin, Angela felt a wave of anxiety wash over her. The weight of responsibility bore down on her shoulders as she struggled to devise a plan that would allow her to navigate the precarious balance between her obligations and her aspirations.
That evening, in her bedroom, she changed into some of her sexiest lingerie and took some photographs and selfies. She was very careful to leave out her face. She emailed these to an escort website service with some details about herself and waited to hear back.
The next day, after work, she went straight to a dance class, followed by a meal with some friends from a drama group. They wanted her to act in their new play but she could not see where she would find the time. She cringed as she paid her part of the meal, and checked her emails when she got home.
“Londonnights” had emailed her back. They were happy to take her on but wanted a quick interview in person. She sighed. She did not want to send in any more photos but understood they needed to know she was for real. The appointment was at a hotel lobby on Bond Street. Angela checked that they would not want her to get naked but the meeting would be in public.
Angela was due to meet Peter, her surgeon date, afterward. She had suggested Bond Street for a date and figured it would be convenient to have a get-out from the escort interview. Peter would meet her at a cocktail bar at 7.30 and the interview was a few hundred meters away, in the upmarket hotel, at 7.00.
Angela was dressed smartly but still conservatively in a pencil skirt, shirt, and jacket, with low heels and moderate makeup. She had originally planned to go garish with makeup, to get in the mood as a hooker but also to disguise herself as much as possible, but realized that Peter would be surprised at this departure from her norm.
Angela arrived early, and as directed went to a sofa at the corner of the bar where a middle-aged woman in a business suit sat. She smiled – “Sara?” she asked. Angela smiled and nodded in recognition of the fake name she had given. “I am Fatima, would you like a drink?”
“Just a coke please,” smiled Angela, or “Sara” and Fatima waved at a waiter, ordering a glass of wine for herself, and a coke for Angela.
Fatima looked admiringly at Angela. She could tell Angela was inexperienced but also recognized sheer confidence and knew her clients would love the classy beautiful young woman in front of her, regardless of her lack of sexual experience. The two chatted and Fatima, a middle-aged Turkish woman with plenty of escort experience, explained the rules and reassured her as to anonymity.
“Just give me your bank details, and I will pay you. The clients pay me, so you don’t have to deal with them directly. You just show up, do your two hours, or longer if they want a date, and be nice. Trust me, they will love you!” Fatima smiled at her.
Angela felt reassured. The money sounded fantastic. The thought of earning a thousand pounds for a single night’s work made her giddy.
After the meeting, Angela handed over her bank details, and her phone number and told Fatima she looked forward to her first “date”. She then hurried to her next appointment, with Peter. Suddenly turned on by the thought of what she would do, she became much more interested in Peter. Peter could not believe his luck, and after a few cocktails, he and Angela began passionately kissing. He took her home to his apartment in Chelsea and they made passionate love. The next morning, Angela woke up, kissed him, and left early, ready to go home first to change and then on to school. Her housemate teased her about Peter but was also happy for her that her relationship was getting serious. Peter was a great catch and a great guy.
Chapter 4
Edward Pembroke had always been passionate about technology. Despite a childhood marked by isolation and bullying due to his nerdy interests in computers, he found immense success as a software engineer. Mastering multiple programming languages for sheer enjoyment, his current employer, a bank, relied heavily on his expertise, granting him almost anything he desired. His salary exceeded half a million pounds annually, supplemented by generous bonuses. However, there was one aspect of his life that his wealth couldn’t resolve: his overbearing mother.
For over a decade, Edward had been the primary caregiver for his bedridden mother since his father’s passing. Despite his financial independence, he felt emotionally tethered to her. Her constant nagging and guilt-tripping made it impossible for him to break free. As a result, he couldn’t enjoy the fruits of his success, feeling as though he had missed out on life’s experiences.
Edward’s passion for technology extended beyond his professional life. He spent his free time building robots and often voluntarily improved the bank’s systems, much to the gratitude of his employers.
“Edward!!!” his mother’s shrill voice shattered the silence. “I need you again. I must use the toilet!” Edward sighed heavily, feeling a mixture of frustration and resentment. He longed for the strength to assert himself and break free from his mother’s grasp, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so.
A few minutes later, trying to blot out the memory of helping his naked mother in the bathroom, he turned to his online hobbies. He had ordered high-resolution secret cameras and was researching where to place them. It was early spring, and he had recently developed two pin cameras, one in his shoe facing upwards, and another in his tie knot. With these, he had spent an hour on the London tube, upskirting various girls and recording their faces to match them with the upskirt footage. Afterwards, he meshed the videos together, trying to match the upskirt shoe videos with the head height tie videos, to match girls’ faces to their exposed knickers. He uploaded these to a favoured voyeur site. He did wish there was some way to identify the girls further, as although he was thrilled to see their underwear, he wished for a more total humiliation.
He particularly enjoyed his Google “Arteca” glasses. Extremely expensive, they were a large pair of glasses, which acted as high-resolution cameras which could capture videos or cameras. He marvelled at the quality afterwards. He never wore them in front of people he knew, as eventually he thought people might find it strange he wore such clunky glasses. He liked to wear them walking in parks and afterwards admired the beautiful women he had seen earlier. He had found them a good replacement for his tie cameras.
He smiled at the comments and likes his uploaded voyeur videos had gotten. On the forum, he read information about hiding cameras in hotel rooms and wondered how to progress with this. He also checked out Pinkmeth and saw the progress with Julia Meadows.
Ms Meadows had deleted all her social media profiles. A few comments boasted about the emails and messages they had sent to her employers and family. One comment was from a friend of Julia’s. “Julia is a wonderful human being. In a moment of weakness, she allowed her scumbag ex-boyfriend to take these photos. She did not consent to have them on the net. Please can you take them down? Her mental health is really suffering, she does not deserve this. If any of you met her, you would love her, she would do anything to help someone in need. Please think of her as a real human being when you spread these photos and please delete this.”
Reading it, Pembroke grew hard. He did not consider himself to be evil, but there was something animalistic in his urge to humiliate this young American woman he had never met. He checked the photos on the websites he had uploaded. He noticed the view counts and read the comments. He was delighted to see that she had been recognised. “This is Julia Meadows, her photos were liked and now she is mad lol, never thought I would see her asshole, she is so hot.”
Pembroke masturbated furiously. Julia Meadows had no chance of taking her profile down. Even if she did, he and hundreds of thousands of other like-minded men would make it their mission to spread her images far and wide, every so often. Knowing how much it hurt her only turned them on more.
He only wished he could witness the humiliation. He wanted to see it. Every day he saw beautiful young girls and women, in the spring of their lives, happy, laughing, and living their best lives. In their short skirts, their light tops, their soft skin, pink lips and hot figures. He wanted to fuck each and every one of them but would never have the chance outside of prostitution. Their happiness whilst in possession of everything he wanted offended him.
Pembroke decided he needed to have sex with a real live woman, it had been too long. He also figured he could try out his surveillance equipment and kill two birds with one stone.
He was swimming in money. He looked up an escort agency “Londonnights” and checked various profiles of escorts. Some of the women showed their faces, but most did not. All were beautiful. He did not fancy a blind date and nearly booked “Yasmin” a beautiful Russian blonde, whose face and blue eyes captivated him. But on second thoughts, he felt that her showing her face just proved she was a real whore. He thought about the more chaste and bashful girls who obviously did not want their faces shown. The agency surely only had the best girls so there was no risk of an ugly girl.
After a few minutes, he clicked on “Sara” a “Latin intellectual beauty” after admiring her busty physique and tanned legs and decided to trust the tastes of the agency. After some enquiries, he booked a day hotel room near Liverpool Street for a few hours on a Wednesday evening after work and paid two thousand pounds for the privilege through an anonymous banking app he was able to manipulate through his work. The payment would just show up as coming from “Guido van Rossum” a famous coder whom he was sure no hooker would have heard of. He booked the room itself under an equally false name and an anonymous payment account and gave the address for the girl to meet him at.
Chapter 5
Angela completed yet another fulfilling day of teaching, effortlessly showcasing her natural talent for the profession. Her headmaster often hinted at her potential to advance within the school, possibly even managing it in a few years. However, Angela’s colleagues and friends couldn’t help but feel that she was destined for something greater, like a bird too beautiful for the confines of its cage.
At twenty-three years old, she possessed a rare combination of intelligence, beauty, and charisma. Her peers speculated about her future, wondering if she would become the esteemed wife of a famous individual, embark on a successful career as a diplomat or politician, or even carve her path as an entrepreneur.
Despite her demanding job, Angela managed to carve out time for personal growth and exploration. Before her evening dance class, she squeezed in an hour of dedicated study, showcasing her commitment to self-improvement. Angela thrived on a balanced lifestyle, exemplified by her dedication to both hard work and leisure.
In her urban dance class, Angela unleashed her energy, sweating it out alongside her peers. She relished the camaraderie and laughter shared with the other dancers, but when they extended invitations for drinks afterward, Angela politely declined. Instead, she prioritized her studies, recognizing the importance of maintaining focus and discipline in pursuit of her goals.
As the evening drew to a close, Angela returned home for more study sessions, determined to excel in every aspect of her life. Her unwavering dedication and determination set her apart, laying the groundwork for a future filled with promise and potential.
After studying she sent some texts to Peter, who was desperate to see her again, and emailed Daniel who was excited to visit his favourite cousin in London. She then checked the email from Fatima, with bated breath.
She had a booking. At a hotel room in Liverpool Street. Tomorrow evening.
Her stomach convulsed with nerves. She would have no way of knowing who this man was. She thought of everything that could go wrong. It seemed a respectable location and apparently, the clients were vetted carefully.
She thought about what to wear. She prided herself on her appearance and ahead of her last date with Peter, she had already waxed her body hair. She touched herself as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. She bunched up her breasts and admired herself. She had always been told she was beautiful and could not help but agree. She picked out the sluttiest underwear she could find, a red thong, and red bra, and packed it for tomorrow.
The following day at school, Angela taught her pupils but was continually distracted by what she was going to do after school. She felt nervous yet excited. At the evening bell, she headed out of the school and to a local gym she rarely used, where she took a quick shower and changed into her red lingerie underneath her sensible teacher’s outfit of black pencil skirt, white shirt, black bow, and black jacket. She put on her largest heels and strode towards the local tube station trying to calm the knot of nerves in her stomach.
Unknown to her, Edward Pembroke had booked the hotel room hours earlier than he claimed. He had taken a half day off work and had spent the afternoon carefully wiring the hotel room with three hidden cameras. The cameras were adaptable and could be easily disguised. He had brought some plastic hooks to attach to the walls just for the sake of looking permanent and holding hidden cameras. Another such camera was attached to the television facing the bed. Another was on the wall of the bathroom adjoining the hotel room. Pembroke also fully charged his glasses, and at his last count, realised he would be able to enjoy six different angles of the action in the hotel room.
Pembroke was far from attractive, but shaved all his body hair and cleaned himself carefully. His protruding belly spoke of too many takeaways while sat in front of a computer. His crooked teeth, bald head, and underbite betrayed the geeky lack of self-confidence he always had, but they also made the large glasses less conspicuous.
Chapter 6
Angela downed several shots of spirits from a hip flask for some Dutch courage before entering the hotel. She messaged Fatima who told her she would meet “Alan” in the lobby of a smart hotel next to the less prestigious hotel he had booked. The smart hotel did not take kindly to outright sex work but would not object to “dates” in their lobby.
Angela closed her eyes. She thought of Daniel, thought of the money, thought of how normal this kind of work was for so many girls. She thought of how big a city London was and told herself to just enjoy herself as a beautiful sexual young woman.
Angela tried to exude confidence as she entered the hotel lobby, her high heels clicking against the polished floor. The sparse surroundings offered a sense of privacy, adding to the anticipation of the meeting. Following instructions, she settled at a table near the piano, surveying her surroundings with a nervous eye behind the façade of control.
Her attention was drawn to a figure across the room—a bald, plump man clad in an expensive suit that failed to conceal his insecurities. Despite his outward appearance of wealth, he seemed meek and nervous, struggling to maintain eye contact as Angela locked eyes on him. Edward Pembroke looked at her then turned away, before glancing back again.
Angela offered him a warm smile, sensing that he was the man she was here to meet. Edward Pembroke couldn’t help but respond to her genuine warmth, captivated by her beauty and the maternal aura she exuded despite her youth. Angela’s eyes brightened and her cheeks creased as her smile widened. She waved and gave a look to the empty chair in front of her. Pembroke took a deep breath and walked towards her.
“Hello Alan, I am Sara, I’m your date, I think?” She giggled at him and stood up as he approached. Her demeanor put Pembroke at ease, and he finally smiled, pushed his glasses back up his nose, and held out his hand.
“Hi, yes I am .. Alan…” he stuttered. This “Sara” was one of the most beautiful women he had ever set eyes on. He found it hard to imagine she was anything but genuine, she sounded like a teacher greeting a little lost child. In her heels, she was taller than him, and he could not help staring into her coal-black pools of eyes and forgot to say anything else.
“Well this is a fun place” giggled ‘Sara’ “you have good taste.” She remembered Fatima’s guidance. “Now, I think you should get both of us a drink before anyone says anything.”
Pembroke stuttered and started to walk towards the bar. “No don’t worry” Angela touched his wrist. “Relax, someone will take our order. Let’s just sit down first.” She sat down and Pembroke followed. He had done this many times, but this was the first time he planned to secretly record the encounter, which was, he realised, illegal. She was also the most beautiful girl he had met so far and did not give off the whoreish vibes of the girls he had met previously.
A waiter approached, and Pembroke ordered two glasses of prosecco. Angela remained impassive and smiling. She noted he seemed very nervous and was not very good-looking. She felt a little sorry for him. She was a little relieved he was so nervous and harmless, she had thought she would meet a wealthy pig or coke-fuelled banker who would want disgusting things or rape her. She felt she could control this ‘Alan’ and give him a good time. She crossed her legs and felt the heat in her pussy in anticipation of playing with herself in front of him.
“So Alan, what do you do?” she asked. She reasoned that he probably could not murder her now, there would be too many witnesses.
“I work as a banker…” mumbled Pembroke. “I mean, in finance, it’s OK, a bit boring… I do this for fun you know…”
Angela could not see his eyes very well behind his odd glasses. She wondered if he had a sight defect. She had never heard of glasses that could record videos so did not suspect anything. Pembroke had not yet turned them. The cameras in the hotel room were primed and would turn on when detecting motion so would come on as soon as they entered the hotel room next door.
“I am a tourist myself,” lied Angela “I like to travel and meet people.”She wondered how to turn the conversation sexual. She was aware they were an odd-looking couple. She feared someone might see her and suspect something even though London was so big. Don’t be paranoid, she told herself, just enjoy yourself.
Pembroke fidgeted. He just wanted to go to the hotel room and prayed the drinks would soon arrive.
After a tortuous minute, a waiter brought both glasses over. Angela giggled and smiled at him and toasted him. She surprised herself at how easy this was so far, he was so intimidated she felt fully in control. She downed her drink, and so did Pembroke. “Shall we go?” giggled Angela.
Pembroke nodded, got up, and went to pay at the bar. Angela walked out of the exit to wait. She felt the eyes of several men on her. The curse of being so beautiful was that she would always be noticed. The jealous city boys whispered to each other that she was likely an escort. This was painfully confirmed when Pembroke ambled out and they walked alongside each other. The city boys smirked at the incongruous couple but also jealous, knowing they could not afford a woman like that.
They walked past the receptionist, a young woman who immediately understood the situation. Angela tried to remain composed and told herself this would be the last person other than the client who would witness this encounter. They did not talk until they got into the hotel room.
Inside, there was a bottle of wine, some glasses, condoms, and a fully set hotel room. Angela took a breath and then said “OK, why don’t you take your clothes off and let me get ready.”
Pembroke surreptitiously clicked his glasses on. “Sara” in front of her was still distractingly gorgeous. He saw her take a look around the room and felt reassured that she did not seem remotely suspicious and would not guess that currently, six different cameras were recording her for posterity from different angles. He kept his eyes on her, not just to enjoy her, but to maintain the recording of her, as she disrobed.
Her smile remained as she unbuttoned her shirt, peeled off her bow, and revealed her toned abs and pert breasts cupped in a lacy red bra. Her arms and torso were toned and did not show any fat other than the peachy globes bursting to get out of the wiring.
She placed her hands behind her back, unzipped her skirt, and let it fall to her ankles. Stepping out, her long legs shimmered with the last rays of sunlight coming through the curtains and between her legs. Her red panties clung to her crotch and Pembroke gazed hungrily up and down, from her slim ankles, up her luscious legs and toned thighs, to her graceful throat and perfectly chiseled face. Her welcoming cheerful smile enabled him to meet her gaze, he could not remember the last time he had been able to stare into someone else’s eyes in a long time.
“Do you like it?” she giggled, turning around and placing the palms of her hand on each buttock.
“Yes, you are gorgeous!” Pembroke was not minded to talk much and also did not want his voice to appear much on any video. If this footage was going to go online, he would have to make sure his own identity was completely concealed.
Pembroke was lying on his back with his head propped up on the pillow, completely naked. He had not yet touched his own penis, but it was firmly erect. Aangela looked at the hairless body and saw that his cock was not uninviting. It was average size, and clean, and she thought to take it into her mouth but waited for an instruction.
“Can you…” Pembroke licked his lips, his mouth was dry, “take your bra off, and … play with yourself… while still in your knickers standing there?” In his mind, he was imagining the view from the camera angles. One such view would be straight into her eyes from his glasses as she looked at him.
Angela liked the idea, she unhooked her bra solely, tossed it to the ground, licked her fingers, and dipped them beneath the waistband of her panties. The gusset was already wet, and she sighed as her fingers rubbed her pussy lips, one digging into the hole and the other rubbing the clit. Her other hand tweaked her nipples. Part acting, part real, she began to moan and bite her lips and smiled at Pembroke, who was tentatively gripping his own rock-hard cock.
Pembroke wanted to hear her speak but did not want the to and fro of conversation to be recorded, specifically, his own voice. “Tell me about what you want to do to me…” he said to her…
“I am going to ride you darling… when I finish touching myself, I will ride that cock of yours, and make you cum all over me….” Angela was part tipsy, part horny, and part overcompensating for the nerves. She suddenly started to giggle. She whipped her panties off, still keeping her smiling face on Pembrokes, and clambered over him. Her eyes never left him as she took his cock in her hand, and then began licking it while stroking his balls. She started sucking harder, her other hand returning to her pussy to rub herself.
Angela did not mind Pembroke’s smell and began to think she could get used to this. She felt more like a performer than having anything done to her, he was so passive.
Eventually, she pulled her head up rubbed her erect nipples over his upper body, and drew her face close to Pembroke’s. After breathing into his face, she kissed him on the lips.
Pembroke was shocked, he had not been kissed like this in years. Her breath was so sweet, her lips tasted so good. His hands wandered all over her body. He felt the dimples on her lower back, the tautness of her thighs and buttocks, and the soft fleshiness of her breasts.
“Let’s take these off…” she smiled and tried to grab his glasses.
“No…. er… sorry they help me… it is the light you see, not just my sight, I need to keep them on…” he panicked thinking she might notice the buttons on the glasses.
“OK, ha suit yourself. I never saw these type of glasses before” she smiled.
She got up and poured herself more wine. Pembroke also took a glass. He did not want to get any drunker. Not only did he want to stay in control of the recording, but he also wanted to continue what was turning into the best few hours of his life.
He ate out her pussy for half an hour. Angela lay back and came several times, and did not complain when he slipped a finger, and then his tongue, into her asshole as well.
“Can I .. err… lick your feet?” he asked nervously, he still could not believe his luck.
Angela giggled though then had to bite into a pillow to stifle her screams as his tongue lapped at her insteps. This was something she had never experienced before. She laughed and rode Pembroke cowgirl and reverse cowgirl style.
Pembroke did not dare to suggest anal, and in any event, did not want to ruin the encounter. As he put on his fourth condom for doggy style, he could not stop smiling as he looked at this beautiful girl, on all fours, her buttocks spread wide displaying her pussy and asshole to the world and his glasses, as well as several cameras, while she turned her head around, to check he was putting the condom on properly, but unknowingly ensuring she would be forever captured on screen in the most humiliating fashion.
After some time, Angela asked to use the bathroom. She needed to pee and wondered if she should even close the door. She felt so liberated, and in the back of her mind still worried he could go through her things. Habit won, she closed the door and sat and peed.
Pembroke listened to the stream of piss hitting the toilet bowl. How long did he have? He made to go to the bottle of wine, and as he did, he saw her open handbag. He quickly threw his hand in and took out a long cord leading to a card. He saw a card, and took a quick look at “Centram Sports”
The sound of the stream of piss started to fade, Pembroke quickly threw the card back into the handbag, grabbed the bottle, and poured a glass. The door of the bathroom came open and the naked woman bounded back in.
“I think I want to make you cum one last time” she smiled. The date had been for three hours. Including the hotel lobby drinks they were well over this but she did not feel like being stringent and thought of this as a tip.
“Thank you” giggled Pembroke as he supped his drink. “Let me go for a piss though as well…” and he disappeared through the door.
Angela reclined on the bed. She looked around and suddenly wondered what she was doing. She regretted telling him he would make him cum one last time. Suddenly she was growing tired. She looked at her handbag. She could not be sure, but it seemed slightly disturbed. She had not brought any ID with her, but even so, she was getting drunk and should still be careful.
Listening to the sound of piss hitting the toilet bowl also brought home to her the full extent of what she was doing. When Pembroke returned through the door, she now found it hard to smile back at him. There was something creepy about him, now that his nervousness had faded. His glasses made him look very weird.
She realised his cock would not stink of piss. Fuck it, she thought. Let’s do this and get out of here. “Lie down,” she commanded.
She did not take his cock in her mouth again, instead, she jerked him off with her hand, she backed onto him so her pussy and ass hovered over his face.
“Why don’t you take off your glasses now” she asked.
Pembroke figured he had enough material. He wanted to really enjoy her pussy with no more encumbrance. He took the glasses off, placed them on the bedside table, and lay back as he watched Angela’s divine backside lower herself onto his waiting mouth, her asshole positioned centimeters from his eyes as he drank in her pussy still wet from sex and piss.
Angela tugged furiously until finally, Pembroke came one last time. This time, she did not gobble up the remaining semen. She leaned back and forcefully sat on his face, her ass now covering all his view, while she took another look around the room at her handbag and his glasses on the table.
“Hmmmm!” Pembroke suddenly gripped her thighs. He was struggling to breathe. Angela was trying to think straight and almost fell off the bed.
“Sorry, I thought you would suffocate me,” replied Pembroke.
“That’s OK,” replied Angela, she got herself off the bed and stood awkwardly. Something was not right. She suddenly wanted to leave as soon as possible, she did not feel right. Was it all the alcohol?
“I guess we are finished?” said Pembroke. He grabbed the glasses and put them back on. He sensed unease in Angela, and while even after cumming for the fourth time he still could admire her taut naked body, he sensed it would be good if she just left now.
“Yes, that is time, I’m afraid” Angela laughed. She turned and went to gather her things.
“Why don’t you leave first?” Pembroke had the room booked for hours more, unknown to Angela, but he really wanted her out. He needed to get the cameras stopped and taken out and suddenly grew self-conscious about his glasses. “But….” He could not help himself “Can I… can I keep those red knickers, please? I can pay extra… cash…”
Angela suddenly laughed. This was ridiculous. “How much? A hundred pounds?”
“Yes,” beamed Pembroke.
Angela suddenly regretted not asking for more. “Actually these cost me fifty pounds with the bra,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.
“OK, a hundred and fifty!”
Angela laughed again. “OK,” she fished her knickers from the ground and threw them at him. He was a weird man. This whole thing was just weird. Her urge to investigate had suddenly changed to an urge to get away from him as soon as possible. She pulled on the pencil skirt, how with nothing on underneath. She pulled on her bra…
“Err… the bra too please…” asked Pembroke.
“OK…” Angela said, this time not laughing. She had a white blouse but the black jacket covered her nipples just as they covered her red bra earlier. She wondered what more weird requests would come. A lock of her hair? She gathered her things and looked under the bed and could not find any belongings.
“OK, well…. I guess I’m off…” Angela thought about how to say goodbye. Would she want to do this again? With him?
“OK..well thank you so much.” Pembroke smiled at her. He looked ridiculous holding out one hundred and fifty pounds in cash, naked, in nothing but high-tech glasses.
Angela took the money and took one last look at Pembroke. He was not shy now, nor nervous. He looked very different from the clothed nervous geek she had met in the lobby hours earlier. His cock was growing hard… again. Well, she had done enough…
“Well, Alan, it was nice meeting you!” She air-kissed him and walked out the door. She marched down the hallways and passed the same girl on the way out. She tried to avoid her eyes. She walked out into the darkness and felt the cold air up her skirt and into her bare wet pussy.
She stopped at a bar near the tube station on Liverpool Street. She had plenty of cash on her in addition to the thousand pounds she would soon see in her bank account. She ordered a double vodka and martini and gulped it down.
She suddenly felt men’s eyes on her. She felt sticky all over, sweat, cum, piss, saliva, Pembroke’s hands had touched every inch of her. She suddenly smelt his aroma on her.
One guy approached her, she clutched her jacket together across her chest, not wanting to show her braless chest through the fabric. “Hi love, what’s a nice girl doing here? I want to spend my bonus on you,” a young blonde man in a suit brayed at her. Angela suddenly felt disgusted. She was not used to being approached like this. Then again she was rarely on her own in bars, she was usually on a date, or with good friends celebrating.
Angela saw another side to life in the leering eyes of the oaf leering at her. She gulped down her drink and left. The man tried to follow her, and grabbed her ass. “Don’t walk away from me yet love.”
“Fuck off,” shouted Angela as she turned around her jacket came open, and the man had a good look at her rock-hard nipples against the spring cold.
“Fuck you, you whore,” he shouted and went back to his friends.
She suddenly felt very drunk. She grabbed a Mcdonalds’, trying to avoid the eyes of what she believed was everyone in the packed interior, then munched on a Big Mac while scurrying to the tube. She went straight home and tried to sneak into her room without arousing her flatmates.
Teresa, her Russian flatmate, saw her and was surprised to see her worse for wear. She had never seen her drunk before. “Hi Teresa, sorry, had a date with Peter, we had a bit of an argument haha,” muttered Angela.
“Oh tell me,” said Teresa, she was genuinely concerned, though secretly she would love to have Peter to herself, and wondered if she could turn this to her advantage.
“Oh, it’s nothing… I’m sure we will work it out… sorry I just need some time in my room… sorry…” she grabbed a glass of water and went into her room.
That night, she scrubbed herself clean in the shower for half an hour, and lay in bed, unable to sleep. She just thought about Pembroke, that weird man in his robot glasses. She got a text from Fatima. She was able to check her bank account and saw that the money had gone into her account.
“Thanks for everything, Fatima. I got the money. I am afraid I did not enjoy this evening, I don’t think I am cut out for this. I think I need a break but thank you.”
Fatima was disappointed but understood. The girl was just too good-hearted to make it as a hooker she smiled to herself.