’ Sir Hartley beamed in triumph at having overcome that particular hurdle. ‘I’ve ordered a bottle of Chablis. If you would prefer something diff...rent….’ ‘No…no, Chablis would be great.’ ‘You’ll be an escort for a very popular broadcaster tonight, Mrs….erm….Rachel. At least, he’s popular in his own country, but I soon hope to make his name known over here. Bernardo Martine, from South America.’ ‘Is that what I am, Sir Hartley?’ enquired Rachel. ‘An escort?’ ‘Well…erm…in a manner of speaking. It. I sensed him inhale sharply as I took them between my fingers and gently squeezed. I traced his belly with my fingers, stopping at his jeans. I delicately traced his skin, from his belly to his side and then back again to his belly. Taking hold of his pant's button, I worked it loose. I ran the palm of my hand over the front of his jeans and I felt his cock twitch. Taking hold of the zipper, again I moved ever so slowly, and I unzipped his jeans. Putting my fingers inside his pants, I rocked. More

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