Sex with audience - 1

I went to visit a regular just off Chelsea.
Lovely area, horrible transport. They just have Sloane Square nearby so I always have to walk or get a cab from there because if it’s raining a lot it doesn’t worth the savings.

I was a bit disappointed at first because Mr. Chelsea had a guest at home and he politely asked if his friend could watch while we were fucking.

It is such a trick question because regular clients are very reliable in terms of income.

We know that we can count if this in order to keep all the bills up to date even if we don’t get new ones.
However they also know it is a job, and it is not an average job as such as a chef or a IT guy whom may would not mind having a strange watching them to get on with their job! It was also trick because when I get this question from new clients I charge double so they kind of give it up. But how to ask for more money if I need to keep those regular clients? Especially now when some of them are having fun less often due the crunch?

I said although I like and trust him a lot, it was an unusual request (what a liar I am sometimes!) therefore I would fell a little embarrassed. He understood and I felt slightly bad for his friend, that was in the room listening to our conversation before we go to Mr. Chelsea bedroom.
His friend, then made an offer:

- I can pay, if you want. I just want to see, I don’t want to fuck or get fucked, just to watch. I like it and Mark doesn’t mind.

For a while I was thinking of ‘who the hell is Mark’ because I had forgotten that Mr. Chelsea actually has a proper name. This is my fault as I keep finding nicknames for my clients and always name them after the nearby tube station when saving their numbers on my mobile. Otherwise it would be difficult to remember who is who? I have 3 clients called David: Mr. Bayswater, Mr. Stockwell and Mr. Canning Town. It is safer than to risk knocking the wrong door!

I looked at Mr. Chelsea and he agreed. Everything would be fine.
- Ok, lets do it then!

We head up to Mark’s bedroom, with those disturbing wallpapers with so many colourful flowers that looks like from a cheap mother’s day wrapping paper.
- Where can I sit to watch? – Mr. Chelsea’s friend asked
(to be continued)