I first met the dark horse when I was working as a waitress in a gay bar in London. It was a great place to work because the guys kept their hands to themselves and so did most of the women. The bar was owned by a friendly older dyke called Ham and she liked me. Every now and then she’d take me up to her flat over the bar and fuck me but it wasn’t a relationship, more a sort of now and again type of thing.

Ham would go for days without taking me to the flat but then she’d say, “I think we’re going to pop upstairs for a bit, Gala,” and that meant she was feeling a bit urgent. Once in her flat, it was up with the regulation black skirt, down with the knickers and she’d whip out her strappy (she was rarely without it) and give me a good seeing to.

She didn’t mind us going out with the clientele as long as we behaved properly when we were working. I was between jobs and it looked like I might be between jobs for quite a while so the money was welcome, so was the sex. I sound like a total slut? Your point is?

The dark horse was tall, dark-haired with amazing dark green eyes. She took no notice of me. Ham had taken her food order and I delivered the bottle of wine she’d chosen and poured a taster for her and she just sort of wiggled her fingers to say it was fine and that was that. When I put her meal down in front of her she didn’t speak, just nodded as she read a book. Fucking charming, I thought. That first night she was wearing a wonderful blue dress, real class, nothing showing but everything showing if you get my drift.

“She’s a dark one, that one,” said Ham as I went back to the bar. “Comes here now and again, always polite to me, drinks sensibly, eats occasionally and never gives the girls a bad time.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“Rich too, I’d say judging by her outfits.” And those heels, I thought, would pay my rent for a month or two. “We could do with more of her sort.”

Four days later, Ham was upstairs with one of the other girls. “Got to ring the changes, ladies.” I was working the bar and in came the dark horse.

“Where’s Ham?”
 

“She’s taking a break. She’ll probably be down in a while.”

“A bottle of the Chablis, the good one and I’ll have a fillet steak, blue, with salad.”
 

“Sure. Take a seat and I’ll bring your wine.”

That evening she was in a long red skirt with a white blouse. I opened the bottle, gave it a sniff to make sure it was ok then carried it across to her table. She tasted it and said, rather to my surprise, “What’s your name?”

“Gala.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Cute. Sit down.”
 

“I’d love to but I can't. I’m looking after the bar.” Just at that moment, Ham, looking very cheerful, returned and came over.

“I asked Gala to sit with me for a moment but she said she was busy looking after the bar.”

“Quite right too,” Ham said, smiling at me. “But I’m back now so she can spare a few minutes.” Christ, she must have had a great time!

I poured her wine and sat.

“Lucy.” I obviously looked nonplussed. “My name is Lucy, Lucy Furr.”

“Oh, right, sorry.”

“How come you’re called Gala?”

“My Dad liked unusual names.”

“Me too. Are you an unusual girl?”

“Not that I know of.”

“We’ll see. What time do you finish?”

“Midnight.”
 

“Perfect. I want you to be my mascot.”

“You want me to be what?”

“I play poker. I like to have a lucky mascot with me. I think you’d be great. I’ll be outside at midnight – a dark blue Mercedes. It’s up to you.”

Thus dismissed, I went back to the bar and told Ham what she’d said to me. “Wow. I’ve heard some of these poker games can be big money. Why not? You might get a large tip if she wins. I would if she’d asked me.”

“Fat chance you, old cow.”

She really must have had a great time upstairs because she smiled. “Not too old for you, darling. Remember that.”

Just after midnight and still wearing the uniform, I went out of the bar and, sure enough, there was the Merc but, shit, what a Merc. It was at least two normal car lengths and the door opened as I appeared and she beckoned to me.

“You’re late. Get in.” The car moved off but I never saw who was driving. “You have a change of clothes?” I did not. “OK. She tapped on the screen between us and the driver and we turned a corner and drove fast through the empty streets.

Lucy had changed into a revealing, purple evening dress with spaghetti straps that showed off a great pair of tits and a slash up the side showing off one very shapely leg. The heels were, as before, like nails and about five inches. We went first to what I assumed was her house. There, she led me into the house and upstairs to a bedroom.

“Get your clothes off.” 

"What?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I stripped. God knows why I did but I did. She took a sheer silk slip from a wardrobe. “Put this on.” She found me a pair of sheer black panties and handed them to me and, when I had pulled them up, she put a white silk blouse on me, unbuttoned but enough to conceal most of me. “That’s better, now come on.”

Back in the car, she sat next to me. “When I’m playing stand right behind me, don’t talk to me unless I speak to you. Got it?’ I said I had got it. “Good. Now go down on me, I like to cum before I play.”

I wasn’t what you’d call naturally obedient; quite the opposite usually but this woman was a force. Not only that but this was probably one of the wildest experiences of my life and an experience missed is a tragedy. I knelt on the floor of the car and she pulled her dress up to reveal she was naked beneath it.

She pulled my hair, gently enough, and guided me to her cunt. I felt wanton, hungry, eager. It was all so fucking surreal. I ate her, licked her, sucked her until with a delightful moan she shuddered and a small stream of thick juice oozed from her which I lapped up before returning to my seat beside her. Unbelievable? I kept wondering when I’d wake up.

“Nice, well done.” Romantic sort!

In the casino, she took a seat and was given a huge pile of chips. I stood dutifully behind her. She put on a pair of glasses and I could see the hands she was playing but to be honest, they didn’t make much sense to me. The tide of chips ebbed from her pile then flooded back, ebbed again, ebbed a little more then started to rise and rise until at about 5 am she abruptly stood, swept up her chips, threw one at the croupier and walked away to the cashier’s desk, me following in her wake.

I don’t know if anyone looked at me. I couldn’t think straight it was just so fucking weird. She instructed the cashier to credit the winnings to her account, gripped my wrist and led me outside where the car was waiting for us. We drove out of town to a small village. The journey took about forty-five minutes during which she didn’t speak but sat with her head back and her eyes closed, apparently asleep. The car turned into a long driveway and up to a large house with a big oak door. As if she’d been alert all the way, she got out of the car and opened the door and I followed her into the hallway.

“You live here?”

“Sometimes. Follow me.” As if I was going to do anything else. We ascended a flight of stairs and entered a large bedroom. She took off her dress and turned to face me. “Lose the blouse and the panties, keep the slip on, it suits you.”

I sat on the bed and watched as she carefully slipped a feeldoe into her cunt, working it, her eyes watching me. She stroked it then came to me and kissed me, hard, her hands fondling my breasts as her tongue invaded my mouth.

“Winning makes me horny. Hands and knees.” I almost said no because I thought a little resistance might be a good idea but I was horny too, very, more than I could ever remember feeling before. Not only that, I wasn’t sure that if I said no, she might throw me out. I wouldn’t have minded that too much from a practical point of view but, well, I wanted to see where this was going. So I turned onto my front and hefted my arse up and she knelt behind me.

She lifted the slip and a finger stroked me firmly and she was obviously satisfied that I was wet enough because she entered me, not too hard but hard enough, then began to fuck me, slowly at first then harder, faster. She slapped my arse quite vigorously and pushed hard into me until I felt her stiffen behind me and the dildo had clearly worked its magic because she made a sort of whoosh noise and bent over me.

Her body was taut, her dildo still deep inside me where she stayed for a few moments before easing it out of me then turning me over. Her head between my legs, she licked me and sucked and teased my clit. As a finger pushed into my arse I almost came but she stopped.

“Wait until I tell you.” We are not talking a romantic engagement here but, fuck, it was hot.

She wasn’t done. She pushed me so I lay on my side and she worked that wet finger back into my arse while she kissed my neck and ear which is one of my great fuck buttons and I felt the head of her cock at my arse and she gently eased into me there, not gentle enough that there wasn’t the usual burn as I stretched but gentle anyway.

“A girl who gives me her arse the first time is unusual. I like unusual.” She was panting a little as she buggered me. Her hand roamed over my tits and down to my clit as she rocked behind me. “This time, together. I’ll tell you when.” I was floating and the initial pain of her entering me had soothed to a deliciously erotic pleasure, fuelled by her attention to my clit.

“Wait, wait, wait.” A pause. “Now, do it, cum for me.” I did. Christ, did I cum. Despite all that had happened I hadn’t orgasmed until that moment almost as if her will had prevented me. Now she allowed me to, I was a screaming mess. Once again she stayed inside me, holding me to her and licking my ear. “Good, very good. Better to come though.” What, I asked myself, could be better than that?

It was about midday when we got up. She made coffee and we sat, both naked in her vast kitchen. She picked up the glasses she had worn while playing poker and put them on me. She held up a card, it’s back towards me but I could faintly see the outline of the card’s face.

“The seven of hearts! You’re a cheat.”

“Of course I am, darling. You don’t win unless you have an advantage. That’s why I had you stand behind me so nobody can see what I can see.” She took the glasses off me and kissed me hard. “So much to learn.”

As she spoke, a large Dalmatian wandered unthreateningly into the room. “Meet Bepina, my one true love. She won't hurt you. I might but she won't.”

She took me back to bed then and I learnt a little more! But a girl’s entitled to a few secrets.

I didn’t see Lucy for a few days but then she called me. “There’s a game in Le Touquet, I want you to come with me.”

“I have to work.”

“No you don’t, I’ve spoken to Ham. I’ll pick you up later today.”

How she knew where I lived I have no idea but she arrived around four in the afternoon in the same Mercedes and we were driven to the Eurostar terminal and boarded the car train.

“We need to get you a few things. Oh, and I’ve got a little tip for you from the other night.” She handed me a fat envelope, unsealed and when I looked I was shocked. It was stuffed with Euros.

“I’m not a whore.”

“Of course you’re not. You are my mascot and you earned it. Don’t get all self-righteous.” She shifted position and kissed me, her hand sliding up under my skirt. The channel crossing takes about half an hour and for that time she kissed me, fingered me but told me if I came, she wouldn’t touch me again until we got back to England. I managed not to but, fuck, I was close. Why did she have this effect on me?

From the train, we drove to a fabulous hotel with a curved driveway and flunkies at the door. Our room was huge and I enjoyed exploring the massive bathroom and trying the large bed. Nice.

“Come on, we need to get to the shop.”

The shop was a boutique specialising in very expensive dresses and lingerie. She bought me an utterly gorgeous evening dress; gunmetal grey, strapless, open to midway up my thighs and simply fantastic. She also bought me silk stockings and matching suspender belt and French silk knickers. It was all eye-wateringly expensive but she didn’t seem to notice. I caught a glimpse of her credit card and realised it had a name on it that wasn’t hers.

In the car, I said, “That card.”

“Stolen, darling. I’m not just a cheat you know.” Why is danger so, so exciting?

“You’re bad.”

“You have no idea.”

“Give me an idea?”

“You’ll find out in time.”

Back at our room she undressed me slowly, and kissed me deep and hard. “I know you’re not a whore but let’s just pretend for a while shall we?” Pretending didn’t seem too difficult. And don’t forget, she liked to cum before she played. Who was I to change her training schedule?

The poker game was similar to the first. Lucy won and lost, her pile of chips waxing and waning until the last hour or so when she accumulated what seemed to be a fortune. As before, she swept up her pile, tossed a chip to the dealer and led me out to the car, stopping at the cashier’s desk on the way.

“You’re good. You stand still, you do as I say. You look good and that takes other players’ minds off me. Let’s fuck, properly. Before the game is preparation, after is celebration.”

The following afternoon (late check out) I was surprised that in place of the Mercedes, there was a white BMW hire car waiting for us. Our bags were placed in it by the flunkies who each received tips from Lucy who took the wheel.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going to heaven, darling.”

She hardly spoke as we drove for about three hours, stopping only for a coffee at a beautiful roadside bar. As we sat in the late summer evening outside the bar she took my hand. “I’m letting you close to me, Gala. Don’t let me down.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it says. Come on.”

I tried to engage her in conversation but her eyes were fixed firmly ahead and her hands never strayed from the wheel.

We turned into a side road and then onto a dirt track that ran between high hedges and trees and then into a woodland track and then onto a most amazing sylvan glade. In the centre of the glade was wheeled structure, like a gipsy caravan or a shepherd’s hut. Two shafts extended from it and lay on the ground as if waiting for a horse to turn up.

“Come with me, quietly.”

I walked from the car to the far end of the hut. As we passed the rear corner I noticed the doors of the hut were open, three steps descending from the interior. We moved forward and there, sitting on the top step, one leg bent to rest of the next step, the other extended to the lower step and both legs clad in incredibly tight, black fabric, leather perhaps, sat a woman. She wore a white, translucent and very loose shirt which was open to the waist but I couldn’t see her breasts.

Her long, black hair concealed half her face but the late sunlight caught her eyes which were green, almost as dark as Lucy’s. Her mouth was open and she was probably the most erotic sight I have ever seen. Did I gasp? Maybe, but if I did, Lucy either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“Who is she?”

The woman on the hut steps lifted a hand in greeting.

“Who is she? Why, darling, she’s me.”