Lord Grover Witherspoon always had a shooting party at his estate to mark the beginning of hunting season. His enormous woodland made it one of the more popular parties during the season. As he was recently divorced, as his hostess for the night he’d hired one of the most gorgeous London escorts from a local firm the lady’s name was Chelsea.
She arrived at the estate on the previous evening, dressed casually in woolens and cashmere, her luggage in a Louis Vuitton Montorgueil. One of Lord Witherspoon’s footmen followed behind carrying the bag while his butler led Chelsea through the country house to the room adjoining Grover’s.
This was only her second time hosting for a client and she was a bit nervous. Her agency guaranteed discretion but she was still worried about meeting some of her former clients during the hunt. A knock on the door made her turn in surprise.
Grover stepped into the room, smiling through his salt and pepper beard. He came toward her, took her hand and kissed it.
“I am so happy you could join us today Chelsea. Do you have everything you need?”
Chelsea smiled, “Of course I do Grover. Your staff has been more than helpful.”
“Good.” He said and then reached out and squeezed her breast.
“Mmm,” he said, “Nice.”
Chelsea smiled, “Thank you.”
Grover reached out and squeezed her other breast, “Are they natural?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” she unbuttoned her shirt, “Feel for yourself.”
Grover reached in massaging her breasts with focused concentration.
“Very nice,” he murmured and she could see the bulge in his trousers. She took a step closer, arching her back so her breasts were closer.
“I’m glad you like them,” she whispered.
A discreet knock had Grover moving away fast, “Dinner is served,” a voice called although nobody tried to come in.
“Coming,” Grover said adjusting himself as Chelsea buttoned up her shirt. He extended an arm toward her, “Shall we?” he asked.
Chelsea smiled and nodded, taking his hand and letting him lead her to dinner.
Dinner was a lavish affair and Chelsea was quite sleepy by the time they were through.
“We have a long day tomorrow, you should get some rest,” Grover said.
“Indeed,” Chelsea said standing up with relief.
“Before you go, however, would you come here?”
Chelsea went to him where he sat and he stood up, rubbing himself against her, up and down and up again. She was a good escort who know how to please a man; pressed closer to him to give him more friction and he shuddered to completion, eyes closed.
“Goodnight,” he said.
“Goodnight,” she replied.