The Prime Minister had always been a charming man, in Edita’s opinion. Why a man of his position needed to hire London escorts from a high-class service was beyond her; she would marry him on the spot just for how talented he was in wooing the women working for him. She had never expected to be hired herself, and the day Alexis (her manager) called her to tell her to go shopping, Edita was almost certain she would pass out from excited hyperventilation.
It couldn’t have been much of a secret to England, what the Prime Minister was doing. He was seen all over the place with plenty of women, though he did tend to rotate between the same ones. Edita wondered, as she lounged in a booth in the back of a revoltingly expensive Italian restaurant, waiting for her date, if he had perhaps convinced everyone that he practiced polygamy. The thought made her snort in amusement. She managed to contain herself when she noticed the Prime Minister in
question enter through the front and make his way back towards the reserved table.
Dinner dates never did last very long. Edita was far too flirtatious for the resistance of anyone that hired her in London as an escort, and she always ended up eating something small and quick in order to be whisked back to a hotel room and all but pounded against a wall, or a door, or through a mattress. The Prime Minister didn’t seem to have any more control than the rest of them did. All it took was a sly, seductive comment about the way he looked that night, and suddenly he was seated next to her instead of across from her, and his hand was on her thigh, and they were splitting an entrée to make the cooking process a whole lot quicker.
Edita could have preened, she was so proud of herself. If there was ever a man to charm, it was this one.
It was in the back of his luxury car that took him everywhere and anywhere he wanted or needed to go that Edita congratulated herself even more on a job well done. He was on her as soon as the privacy screen went up, and she would have laughed if he hadn’t been kissing her so hard. Even more impressive, he didn’t try to take her clothes off in the back of a car: he simply kissed her and stroked along her legs, making low comments in her ear that either had her giggling or shivering – no in between.
“Is smooth talking part of the job description?” Edita asked, shaking her blonde hair over her shoulders when she drew away from his mouth a bit. “Because you’re doing a very good job, and I hope you’re getting paid well for it.”
The question and statement made him laugh, and she shifted a bit until she was in his lap. “We’ll have fun tonight,” Edita said out loud, more to herself than to him. It didn’t hurt that he heard it, however, because his method of agreeing with her certainly did appeal to her in every way.
A charming man, indeed.