The Bank Statement Ch. 02

It wasn't a great step from that stupid little agency to Golden Circle, just a lot more class, and a hell of a lot more money.

I was hooked. I had my own money, lots of it, more than I could spend, and I was going exciting places, Paris, New York, all over.

Most of all though I was someone.

I was a woman that men wanted, and would pay to be with. Someone they could show off to their friends, who would be jealous of them.

I wasn't just a silly little schoolgirl whose parents only bothered with her at holiday time, and sometimes not even then."

Jenny broke down and started crying, and I felt pity for her. I just wished I had met her earlier, before this had all started.

"And the evening we first met?" I asked, when she had settled down a little.

"I knew you'd ask that," Jenny answered. "I couldn't believe you hadn't suspected, but we lived in different worlds."

She looked up at me again. "I don't suppose you had ever even met a call-girl before that night had you?" I shook my head, and Jenny shrugged her shoulders, as if that explained everything. All it showed to me was what a dumb brain I'd been.

"I was due to meet someone, a client... Ok a date. An American, there were always a lot of Americans, but I can't even remember his name, other than he was called James of course. I never did get to see him, because I guess I'd packed it in by the time he came back to London.

I was late, got caught up in traffic, and I met you Jim."

"So why did you go with me Jenny? Why didn't you just bugger off?"

"You were sort of cute. You looked nice. You were just completely different to all the other men that I knew at that time."

"And the second date?" I queried. "How did I get to rate a second date?"

"I enjoyed that first evening with you so much. You were so sweet...sorry but you were sort of sweet and innocent, even though you were ten years older than me. I realised you had absolutely no idea of why I had been there that night, and honestly suspected that you maybe not very experienced with women, but you certainly proved that one wrong."

"But why the virgin act Jenny? Why that?"

"I was a virgin that night Jim. Maybe only your virgin, and maybe not a real one. But that night I was a virgin for you, and I wasn't acting, or at least it didn't feel like it."

"So I was at least special?" I asked. Small comfort but better than nothing.

"Very special," Jenny answered. "The most special ever in my life."

"So how could you still go on fucking other guys? How could you do that if I was so special?"

"I didn't Jim. At least I didn't after our second date."

"Your lying Jenny. Please don't bloody well lie to me. You didn't stop working for that agency till just after we were married. How could you do that?"

Jenny shook her head more confidently. "I didn't Jim. I swear it. I did go on a few dinner dates, and yes I was paid, but I never went to bed with them. None of them, it was just dinner then maybe a few hours at a club and then home. And the last one was two or three weeks before we were married."

"I'm supposed to be impressed with that Jenny?" I asked sadly.

"Not really," she responded as she shook her head uncertainly, the first of a new set of tears rolling down her cheeks, and a few stray dark lustrous hairs matting to her cheeks.

Jenny didn't need me to ask her the next question, but explained how after six months of marriage, I'd suddenly seemed to immerse myself in my business, and it coincided with her feeling unworthy again, and lacking any purpose or outside excitement in her life.

With my unfortunate agreement, she'd gone back to the agency, and started to do dinner dates again. No sex dinner dates; there was a demand for them from lonely businessman away from home, looking for a special beautiful date for the evening, paid for, but acting as if it was by choice. Of course it didn't stop there, and Jenny got hooked again, promising herself that it would be just the one, then another and another.

"I thought I had the best of both worlds Jim?" she enthused, "A wonderful loving husband who I adored.... Still adore," she added defiantly, daring me to argue. "And the thrill of my other life, the glamour, the places they took me, the way all the men used to look at me, hungrily."

"And the sex," I added tersely.

"Yes Jim. And the sex," she agreed weakly.

"How many of them were better in bed than me Jenny?"

I didn't want to, but I had to ask the question, and she began to cry again.

"Not many Jim. Honestly not many of them, and it was just never the same. Ok, a few of them I got fond of, quite fond, but it was never the same as with you."

"Rolf for example?"

Jenny nodded, "Especially Rolf," she admitted.

Up till that point I could maybe have been tempted to give in and take her back. I don't think it would have worked, little chance really, but I might just have tried. It might just have worked, but that admission killed it, and the final questions buried it.

"How many had bigger cocks than me Jenny?" Bought a mumbled, "Just a few," from her.

"How many times did you come home and kiss me, when you still had the taste of other men's cocks in your mouth?" hardly bought a response, just a series of sobs, and a strangled, "Oh I'm so sorry Jim."

I didn't need any answer, her manner told me all, and more.

I watched her sitting there crying. I couldn't hate her. Goddammit I couldn't stop loving her. It broke my heart to watch her in such a pathetic state and not go over to comfort her.

But I couldn't go back to her. I couldn't live with her any more. If I had any doubts before, then I had none at that moment, and I told her so.

She took it well; asked me if perhaps sometime in the future we could get together again, when time had maybe healed the wounds.

I said I didn't know, that maybe it was possible, but that it would probably take a lifetime for that to happen.

I took her in my arms and held her one last time, kissed her lightly on the lips and cuddled her up tightly.

Then I reluctantly let her go, said goodbye and walked back out of the house. I heard her crying as I left, and the sound haunted me for months later, even years on a bad day.

It was the most difficult thing I'd ever done in my life.

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Jenny's tale

I deserved it. Oh God how I deserved it, but how could life have been so cruel to me.

I spent the next week in a fit of depression, and even Rolf wasn't around to console me.

What could I do? The only thing I could. The only thing I knew, and the thing that I always sought solace in when I was low.

I rang the agency, Golden Circle, and they were delighted to have me back again, declaring me to be their most popular escort. I'm not sure if that helped, but equally it didn't do my wrecked confidence any harm.

I spruced myself up, bought a new dress, and went off to meet my first date, determined to enjoy it, determined that if this was to be my life again, that I would make the most of it and damn the rest of them.

It wasn't a good choice for my first time back, and I realised I should have chosen someone I'd already been with. He was a German Industrialist, who thought he owned the world, and thought he owned me.

He leered at me when we met in the foyer of the hotel, and made some crude remark about sucking my tits. My clients were not normally like this, or perhaps I'd become more sensitive to what I was doing.

He grabbed me round the waist and pulled the front of my dress down, right there in front of everyone around us. I yanked it back up, but not before half the guests at the hotel had enjoyed a good view of my breasts.

I really felt so cheap.

I thought of pulling out, just walking away, but he had hold of me and was obviously already fairly drunk, already making a scene. So I decided to get it over with as quickly as possible, urging him over to the lift to get up to his room, refusing dinner or even a drink, which would normally have been at least the minimum requirement to enjoy a full evening of my time.

Once in his room he grabbed me and started to tear at my clothes. I was frightened to scream, as girls like me would not get a lot of support from whoever might arrive. I was on my own and I knew it. Short of beating me, then I would have to take what he dished out, and dish it out he did.

He stripped me naked, my dress in a torn mess, my bra ripped in two, and my panties no longer recognisable as such, after he had torn them from me. I tried to reason with him, tried to quieten him down, but he just kept shouting, "Fucking bitch. I'll get my money's worth out of you, you dirty whore."

He grabbed at my breasts, wrenching at them angrily, squeezing my nipples till his nails bit into them, making me scream in pain, praying by then, that someone would hear us and come to my help, whatever price I had to pay afterwards.

He was just so big, and I was like a doll in his hands, pushing me back onto the armchair, and ramming his fingers up my still dry pussy.

He screamed something at me in German, and then switched to English.

"Stuck up fucking upper class English whore. Think I'm not good enough for you, that I can't even get your pussy wet? I'll show you."

With that he dragged me across the room, grabbing a handful of hair when I managed to wriggle free, pulling me behind him, whimpering in fear, and then throwing me bodily onto the bed.

Before I could move, he took hold of my ankles, and stretched my legs wide apart. By then all the fight had gone out of me, and I simply lay there, praying that it would soon be over. After more rough handling between my legs and inside me, he decided I was ready, dropped his pants without letting go of me, and rammed his cock straight inside me. It hurt like hell, and I screamed, but thankfully, with ten or so thrusts he was finished, and he spurted his cum inside me, collapsing on top of me in a drunken stupor, which soon turned to drunken snores.

He'd paid for me, and had used me. He was at least finished.

It took me ten minutes to escape from under him, as he was huge and a complete dead weight.

I stood looking at him exhausted from my efforts, hating him, hating everything to do with this business. I'd had problems with men before, but never like that, and it was the first time that I had ever had a client inside me without a condom, even Rolf.

I thought what to do, and took all of his clothes, every last one of them, his wallet, his passport, everything, even the towels and threw them all out of the window, not even bothering to watch them flutter down to the street below. Then I found some toilet cleaner in the bathroom and poured that all over his filthy back. I hoped it would burn him badly.

My dress was a mess, and my underwear non-existent, and I wished I'd kept something back to cover myself with. I tried to pull one of the sheets from under him, but he was too heavy, and besides it started to rouse him from his sleep.

There was no option, so arranging the torn dress around myself as best I could, I took to my heels and fled the room.

Nobody crossed my path till I got out of the lift and had to walk across the foyer, at least twenty people waiting there to book in or book out. Everyone stared at me, at my bare left breast, which stuck out through the wreck of the dress, or my bum, which must have been completely uncovered.

I didn't stop. I took no notice of their calls, no idea whether they were condemning me, or offering help. I ran through the crowded streets to my car, oblivious to the stares and the calls around me, not caring that my dress, or what was left of it, was down to my waist, my breasts bouncing around freely as I ran.

Thank God, I'd thought to grab my purse, but I still had to endure cat calls from a group of teenagers as I scrambled in it, to find my keys, giving up all efforts to keep what little was left of my dress around me, and abandoning it on the pavement beside my car.

I drove home naked, and cried all the way. How I didn't have an accident I will never know.

I cried most of the next day as well, realising the level of depravity that I had fallen to. I was still young, and most would say beautiful, but what was my future in the years to come. Another ten or fifteen years or more, and perhaps I'd be lucky to get even that bastard German to go with me.

I was finished and in despair. My life seemed to be finished.

Sat at the table that evening I came to a decision. I took out my check book and wrote four cheques, all to charities that I had meant for years to support, but never got round to it.

The four checks totalled nearly one hundred and eighty thousand pounds, all that I had in that damn bank account.

I didn't want it. I'd never wanted it, and I'd soon no longer need it.

The Chemists was next door to the Post Office, which was convenient, and I was soon back in the house. Looking at my favourite photo of Jim, I opened the bottle of pills and started taking them one by one, and I'd more than half emptied the bottle before I started to feel drowsy.

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I'd no expectations of making it to heaven, and had never been too sure of the concept anyway. But that seemed to be where I ended up, all misty and white and silent.

Peace at last!

"Jenny. Jenny how do you feel?" Angels were talking to me. Why didn't they leave me alone to sleep?

"Jenny, come on Jenny, try to pull through girl. Keep on trying, you can do it."

Please just leave me, I feel so tired.

A few hours later I was back in the real world, the one I had tried so hard to leave. The man's voice talking to me at my side caught my attention.

Jim! It was Jim who had come back to me.

But it wasn't Jim, it was Rolf, and it had been him who had saved my life. My neighbour had called him, and if he hadn't called round I would have died. If he had given up trying to get me to answer my door, then I would have died. If he hadn't broken into the house, then I would have died.

Jim never even came to see me, but at least he did ring and ask after me, and even sent flowers. It really was the end of us two for sure.

A couple of weeks later Rolf and I flew back to New Hampshire, where he installed me temporarily in a sumptuous flat. I guess being a mistress was quite a leg up from being a call girl, but even this situation soon changed.

Rolf made a generous offer to Polly his wife to get out of his life, and she jumped at it. A year later I became Rolf's wife, both our divorces safely out of the way, and I soon showed the community that I was anything but a pretty trophy wife, taking an active interest in his business. He made me a vice-president after three years, and he delighted in telling me that it had been the board's decision when he had been absent.

I revelled in it, loving the pressures and pains of running a business as much as the successes.

Not once did I need the thrill of other men. I didn't need it any more, the business more than filling all my needs of one sort, and Rolf, my darling loving husband, providing the others.

Once my past returned to haunt me. A client from my old days recognised me and tried to blackmail me into having sex with him. I agreed, but fortunately couldn't go through with it, and when I told Rolf he took it very calmly.

I neither saw, nor heard of the man again.

There was also one colleague of Rolf's who had been one of my dates fairly regularly, that Rolf didn't even know about. He was a bit awkward with me till he had it confirmed by Rolf himself that he knew about my past, and then became one of my best friends. He and his wife are still amongst my very best friends, though even now, I'm not sure whether she knows about my background. I'd like to think she wouldn't care, but she would perhaps be surprised.

And Jim?

Well I heard about him, rather than from him, for several years. His business had gone up in leaps and bounds, and I suspected that he'd put all his energies into it, to the exclusion of his love life.

Then I lost touch with him, my own business interests taking up so much of my time, as I took over more from Rolf, as he got older. Then my father died, and we went over to UK to the funeral, and to take over his affairs, his business interests swelling our own considerably.

I am now a very rich woman.

Then about six months ago news of Jim popped up again, and I know that he met a woman in her forties in New York. They've been going out since, and it seems to be going very well for them both. It looks as if Jim is going to settle down at last, though he is taking it carefully after his time with me all those years ago. I can't blame him, but I sincerely hope it works out well for them both.

When they met, he went up to her and said, "Hello Mrs. Carter. How are you?"

She turned round and looked at him, thought about it, then said, "Hi, you must be James."

"Jim, not James," he responded, to which she replied, "James, Jim, what's the difference."

"Sorry to hear about Rolf. He was a fine man," Jim said to her.

"Yes," she agreed. "I had thirteen wonderful years with him, and I miss him since he died last year."

There was a silence between them, but it was a special one, not an awkward one. It was a silence for remembering, forgiving, if not forgetting, for deciding if there was a future. Making their mind up whether life really gave you a second chance or not.

I think it will work out for Jim and his new woman. In fact I'm sure it will, and I'll do my very best to make sure that it does this time.

*

Not everyone's going to like it, but I'm happy with it, and hope you accept that this is what actually happened (honestly). Maybe I rushed this off too quickly, due to the demands from readers, when I should have been running my real business.

Never mind, this is more fun.

I really liked Jenny as I wrote about her, and I'm sorry if you don't agree, but I just couldn't abandon her completely.

Till the next time, and thank you all.