A text promising eighty quid for 30 minutes had got him here, in this room, for what no doubt would be the sharply monitored duration of half an hour, not a second more, with the woman who answered the door in black silleto court heels and white satin bra and panties. £80 30 mins OWO, A Levels, Sex with Condom, GFE, PSE. That’s what it said on the profile, the one he’d been perusing on and off for the last few weeks like a serial killer trolling a potential victim. CIM wasn’t offered, not many seemed willing now to take a mouthful of a punter’s cum for an extra twenty. And here he was, a shape less recognisable each week of purposes growing more desperately obscure, soon he’d just fade to black, a creature that left the faintest outline of an existence. He was disorientated, a middle aged man run to fat who had just a few minutes ago been wheezing in one of the apartment block lifts, regretting the joint he had sucked down to the roach at the side of the building before laboriously accessing the lobby with a texted security code.

Now he was here with his subject of desire, Italian Milf Anastasia, 34, at least that’s how she was billed. Anyway time was ticking, he needed to focus and start fucking, get his cock up her advertised tight asshole. She was as pretty in the flesh as in her Viva profile pics, a ringer for Barbara Steele in Mario Bava’s sixties gothic horror ‘Mask of Satan’ and which if truth be told that had been the main selling point for renting access to her body. Anastasia, what was her story. She was skinny and short but toned with it, glossy black hair that looked newly straightened with a hot brush flowing over her shoulders, and brown eyes that communicated both vulnerability and steel and if he was honest made part of him instantly lover her without logic, and within the hour he would gone and most likely would never see her again.