Follow Your Fantasy Read online

  Dedication

  For my Mum who always believed I could write but who I hope never reads this book!

  Dedication

  Introduction

  Stood Up

  About the Author

  About HarperImpulse

  Copyright Notice

  About the Publisher

  Your erotic adventure starts here...

  Welcome to the thrillingly erotic world of Follow Your Fantasy – a world where you, the reader, chooses what happens next.

  As the story deliciously unfolds, exciting, sexy and downright naughty adventures await your every decision...

  You might end up in steamy encounters with one man or woman, or more! In hotel rooms or high class casinos, on porno sets or at bachelor parties. Or, if there’s just too much choice, you can always go back and try again.

  Remember, even if you choose submission, the control is still all yours.

  Follow Your Fantasy is a new type of Erotica which gives the power back to the reader. It’s a collection of short stories based around a central thread and with recurring characters. But the most important character is YOU. Where will your story take you?

  Stood Up

  You look at the clock on your phone, annoyed to find that it's the third time in ten minutes. Surely the benefit of agreeing to a date with the office accountant is that he'd be the punctual type? It would be funny if it weren't so anti climactic. Even a date you indifferently accepted has bred a sense of expectation, a willingness to see what might happen when you change the settings to 'yes' instead of the default 'no'. Being stood up was nowhere in your aspirations for the evening.

  At least he picked a nice place. The swish city view bar hums with the low murmur of discreet conversations and intimate assignations. Classical music softens the sounds of glasses clinking and lends refinement to the occasional bursts of laughter from the inevitable groups of traders and bankers out to celebrate.

  You were surprised when he'd suggested this hotel. You'd guessed him to be more the dingy local and a packet of nuts type. In fact, you wonder if maybe he isn't late, it's just that he didn't get past the snooty doormen.

  You take the last sip of your cocktail and shift irritably on the bar stool which scrapes metal against the marble floor. The seat digs into the back of your legs whichever position you adopt. This is not a place to sit for hours nursing one drink. That's it. Five more minutes and you'll leave.

  'A bottle of Moet for room 942,' says a male voice from behind you. 'Two glasses.'

  You don't need to turn round to know the voice doesn't belong to your date. Even if the deep voice matched, he wouldn't order champagne or have a room booked. An expensively subtle scent breaches your irritation and you to sit up straighter, leaning instinctively towards it.

  Something slips down the back of your seat and rests against your lower back. You jump as a finger runs down your spine but something prevents you from looking up.

  'Room 942,' you hear again, softer this time so only you can hear. Now you do look around but the man that fits the voice is already leaving the bar. Tall and well built, he is wearing a dark suit that is as expensive and well cut as the clothes of the rest of the bar's clientele. A man like that would be used to touching whatever he wants.

  You reach behind you and pick up the object he dropped. It's an envelope. Maybe it fell by accident although the touch that went before it was very deliberate. You look around to see if anyone is watching you but they're not. The bar man is occupied rattling ice into a bucket and placing it next to two champagne flutes on a tray.

  The envelope is intriguingly fat and unsealed. Before you can stop yourself you lift the flap and almost drop it on the bar in shock.

  It's full of money. Your heart starts to beat faster and you take another peek inside. A stack of crisp new twenties too thick for you to count at a glance. And tucked in next to the cash is a black plastic rectangle that could be a credit card. You open the envelope further and see that it's actually a hotel key card. Presumably for room 942.

  You're not sure whether to be offended or simply intrigued. Either the man makes a regular habit of making paid invitations to strangers in bars or he thinks you're someone else. Do you look like the kind of someone else that goes to bars to pick up clients? In your tight red dress and black high heels, alone at a hotel bar on a Wednesday night, perhaps you do.

  A waiter comes and takes the tray of champagne away. It's gone before you can think whether you should pop the envelope on the tray and let it be returned to its owner. You could ask the barman what to do but then maybe he'd just take the money and pretend he never saw it. It might be embarrassing to admit someone mistook you for an escort.

  Or you could keep it. That cash must be a couple of week's salary at least. But the bar probably has CCTV and to see yourself on the news, not only being mistaken for a call girl but stealing money would be mortifying.

  The safest way to sort out the confusion would be to take it up to his room yourself. You might even get some of the money as a reward for your honesty!

  Maybe you ought to check with the barman before you make any decisions you might regret...

  Or...

  Finders, keepers... You decide to take the money and make a hasty get-away...

  Getting straight to the heart of the matter, you decide to return the money to Room 942...

  The Bar

  You sit looking at the money for a few more minutes, while you pluck up the courage to ask the barman what to do. It's hard to catch his eye as he's busy with a girl who's just sat down at the other end of the bar. You can't think how to phrase it and go through a couple of rehearsals in your head until you finally get his attention.

  'What can I get you?'

  'I was wondering if you remember the guy that was in here earlier?'

  He just looks at you and you squirm inside feeling like an idiot. Of course that isn't very illuminating. There have been plenty of guys in here – it's a bar.

  'The one that ordered the Moet?' you add. You sound as if you want him to set you up.

  'Oh, yeah, that guy.'

  His eyes flick across the bar as an automatic habit to check if anyone wants actually serving rather than hoping he'll play cupid.

  'He left something behind and I'm not sure how to return it.' His attention returns to you but he's still in standard polite customer service mode.

  'OK. Do you want me to take whatever it is and give it to reception?'

  'Well, er…it's…er…' Despite the rehearsals you can't get the words out so you just flash the envelope and its contents from your side of the bar.

  He smirks, engaging properly with you for the first time. 'I see. Well I think I know who that was meant for. And I can see how it ended up in your lap.'

  'Really?'

  'Look.' He nods towards the other end of the bar. You look round discreetly and see the girl he was serving earlier. Her hair is the same colour as yours and she's taken off the dark coat she was wearing to reveal a red dress. Now you understand. It wasn't that you looked like a hooker. It's just that you looked like this particular hooker. A man wouldn't notice, or wouldn't even know, that your hair was shorter or that the dress she had on was a lot more expensive than yours. No wonder she can afford it judging by the thickness of that envelope.

  You think what you'd buy if you had money like that. Maybe you could follow her around every night wearing downgrades of her outfits and waltzing off with the money.

  'So you want me to take it?' he repeats, interrupting your daydreaming.

  'Er, no thanks. You know what? I think I'll just take it myself,' you smile. 'After I finish my drink.'

  'No problem, reception will be happy to help.' Another customer demand
s his attention and he moves off to serve him.

  Your mind races. You could go over and give the money directly to her. Or you could pretend to take it to reception and make a run for it. A lady of the night Robin Hood. After all, both she and the guy from room 942 obviously have plenty of money and are using it illegally, why shouldn't you keep it? Finders, keepers and all that. Plus it's not even as if you found it, you were given it.

  The only way to really solve this mystery is by returning the cash to the girl in the red dress, so you slink on over...

  Or...

  You decide to risk it and keep the money, making a quick getaway....

  Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to talk to the barman, so you retrace your steps...

  Getaway

  You decide to risk it. After all, you didn't steal anything. The money was given to you and any camera would confirm that. And if the camera footage is shown on TV he'd be implicated as well. Solicitation is a crime too, isn't it? You'd better not come back to the hotel bar ever again but as you're not going to accept a date from that geek in the office a second time, you doubt you'd come again anyway. All that money certainly takes the sting out of being stood up.

  You drop the envelope and your phone into your bag and get up to leave. As you walk through the hotel lobby, your eyes wander to the lifts. It's not too late to change your mind and take the money back.

  Getting straight to the heart of the matter, you decide to return the money to Room 942...

  Or...

  Taking the money and making a dash is definitely the right call, you’ve had your eye on those gorgeous Jimmy Choos for a while...

  Maybe this whole thing was not such a great idea, so you retrace your steps...

  The Lift

  Now you've decided to take the money back, your evening has regained a sense of purpose and you stride to the lobby. Its bright lights and the everyday bustle and chatter of reception clash with the sophisticated mood of the bar. You press the lift button and glance in your bag to check that the envelope's still there.

  A ping and the lift arrives, empty. You step in and pull your hem down while you wait for the doors to close, conscious of the fact that it's the dress that probably got you in this situation in the first place. His first reaction when he opens the door is going to be to assume that you're reporting for duty. You can't predict who'll be more embarrassed at the mistake – you or him.

  The doors clank closed and the envelope calls to you in the silence. One last look at the money. What is the going rate is for a call girl these days? You can't resist and pull the notes out to thumb through them. As you fan out the wad, you see something glittering at the bottom of the envelope. Money and diamonds?

  The lift whirs upwards and you pick out the sparkly object. Of course it's not diamonds. Escorts couldn't earn that much or no one would ever have a real job. The sparkles belong to the back of a pink jewelled thong, so tiny it can hardly be worth wearing. The edges of the stones are smooth against your thumb. This is not cheap novelty underwear.

  What would it be like to wear something like that? Or to take it off? Seeing as you're being honest, maybe you could just take the panties as a kind of souvenir. He's hardly going to check while you're standing there, is he? In fact, you could put them on now. You're only as far as the second floor, there are seven more to go so there's enough time. You shiver at the naughtiness of it. Returning the money is the good girl in you, putting on that thong is a little bit more of the bad girl.

  On the other hand, do you really want to wear panties that are part of a transaction intended for someone else? If he does notice, how will you explain?

  Seeing as you’re being such a saint and returning the money, it wouldn’t hurt to be a little naughty while you’re at it. You slip on the thong...

  Or...

  It’s way too risky; your heart’s beating fast enough as it is! You continue on, the thong still tucked inside the envelope...

  Maybe you’ve made the wrong decision after all, so you retrace your steps...

  A Profitable Evening

  No, in your mind you're already spending the money. There are those shoes you saw yesterday and you can treat yourself to a pampering at the hairdresser's. Besides, it will teach that guy a lesson about paying for women.

  You hurry past the lifts, smile at the doormen and head for the car park.

  The end

  Or...

  Well that was a very profitable evening, but there’s definitely more fun to be had back at the bar so you retrace your steps...

  Two For the Price of One

  You aim for the far end of the bar and pass the stressed out executive to perch on the stool next to the darker haired of the two guys – the one in the black shirt. From the corner of your eye you notice him glance at you. You smooth your dress over your hips, holding his attention.

  You pretend not to notice and signal to the barman. 'I'll have what they're having.' You indicate the two guys with a nod of your head. He pops open a beer for you and it foams as he knocks it down onto the counter.

  'Cheers,' says the guy next to you. You raise your bottle and catch the foam with your tongue as it starts to slide down the side. You turn towards them and meet both of their amused and then intrigued stares. 'Cheers.' You take a long and deliberate swallow of beer, feeling the buzz almost as soon as the chilled liquid hits your stomach.

  You down half the beer and then dangle the bottle over your lap. An icy drop lands on the inside of your knee and you set the beer on the bar. Both men's eyes are on you as you part your legs and slowly wipe the droplet of water away with your index finger. Your thighs open up and your fingernail traces its way upwards as your skirt lifts to reveal your pussy, spread wide and inviting.

  Eyes fixed on them, you watch their frozen in lust expressions. You bring your finger to your mouth and lick it.

  'Ah–' The guy in the blue shirt's mouth slackens and falls silent. You don't suppose he's been in this situation before. His friend is open mouthed and doesn't attempt to say anything at all.

  You feel bolder than half a beer would normally suggest. You cross your legs again and the skirt rides up high on your thighs. Words form a sentence before your brain has time to register what your mouth has asked. 'I'd really like a fuck. Or two.'

  Then your brain kicks in. What are you doing? They might be here with their girlfriends for all you know. You don't even know their names. But tonight you've crossed lines you wouldn't have guessed you could and you don't want to leave without seeing where this mood takes you. The idea of two men at the same time is exciting you but maybe they'd be put off. Should you risk it and proposition them together or present them with a less challenging alternative?

  Or...

  You decide to you want double the fun so why not try and make a deal with the devil?...

  On the other hand you don’t want to push your luck and risk them both slipping away...

  Maybe this isn’t quite doing it for you, so you retrace your steps...

  A New Client

  What's wrong with a bit of excitement now and again, you think. You've done it once. One more time can't hurt, can it?

  'I think we can arrange something like that,' you say. 'But take my new number.' You tell him your cell phone number so he won't make the booking with the other girl, the girl he thinks you are.

  Now you've got more than a just a dress and hair colour in common with her.

  Or...

  You’re ready to take him up on his offer, and fulfil his fantasies...

  On second thoughts maybe this isn’t what you wanted after all, so you retrace your steps...

  A Change of Scenery

  The bad girl in you wins the argument. You check the ceiling for cameras. There aren't any but you smile as you imagine the bored security men getting something to ease the monotony of a usual night's elevator action.

  You hook your fingers in the elastic of your silky, but not particularly racy, panties. The material
whispers down your thighs, and you let them drop to the floor and then stuff them into your bag. Even just that act sends a little thrill through you. With two more floors to go, you slip into the thong. It's so low at the front it barely covers anything and the chain of rhinestones creates pressure in just the right places.

  The lift chimes as it reaches the ninth floor and you shift your weight from one foot to the other. The thong rubs between your buttocks. You imagine the real escort as she arrives in the lift. Would she feel the excitement you feel or would she just be like anyone else on their way to work? But, you remind yourself, you're not going to work. You're just doing your good deed for the day and giving back the money.

  Your heels sink into the plush carpet as you enter further into this other life. Each doorway is softly lit, half darkened pools lie between the widely spaced rooms. Behind the doors couples dine privately or rumple silken sheets. You count off the rooms as you go… 939 …the ambassador and his mistress feeding each other strawberries…940 …the giggles of the actress and her toyboy slippery with massage oil…941… the muted groans of the rock star and his groupies writhing on a waterbed…until you're standing in front of room 942… the waiting man laying on the bed ready for service.

  You try the door, half expecting it to be ajar. It's closed of course, but then you remember you've got the key card. What will you do if you barge in and he's naked already? He's hardly likely to be as impressed with your honesty if you've caught him out like that. But, since he ordered two glasses for the champagne, he must intend things to get off to a more civilised start. Maybe escorts and customers need to break the ice like on a normal date.