Sarah's Education Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  About the Author

  Also by Madeline Moore

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Copyright

  About the Book

  Sarah’s birthday plan was to taste her first drink and lose her virginity on the same night. When her boyfriend lets her down, she goes ahead with the drink and is mistaken for a call girl, much to her delight. It is the most thrilling night of her life and leads Sarah into regular secret liaisons in top hotels with strange and exciting men, for cash. And Sarah finds she has a natural talent for satisfying her kinky clients’ fetishes. All is well until a sexy, dominant client ignites her deepest desire and then shows up as a professor at her college. Life, already complicated for this student call girl, becomes a heady mix of love and lust as she learns her lessons both in the classroom and over the knee.

  About the Author

  Madeline Moore is a Canadian author of erotica and a screen writer. In another guise, Madeline’s scripts have been produced by the National Film Board of Canada as well as by a number of Independent Television Producers. Madeline Moore lives in sin with Nexus author Felix Baron near Toronto, Ontario, Canada.

  Also by Madeline Moore

  Wild Card

  Amanda’s Young Men

  Sarah’s Education

  Madeline Moore

  1

  THE PINK MARBLE wall was cool to the touch. Sarah trailed her fingertips along it as she ventured further into the brand-new Toledo Royal Avenue Hotel. Great glittering crystal chandeliers lit the huge space. Urns of fresh tropical flowers and exotic fleshy plants created a bright, welcoming look that softened the austerity of the marble and brass décor. If it hadn’t been for the watchful eye of the concierge Sarah would’ve pressed her flushed cheek to the marble to soak up some of the cool. But he was watching, and she suspected she knew what he was thinking: What’s that cheeky little schoolgirl doing in my fancy new hotel?

  He couldn’t be blamed. She’d just finished a shift as a tour guide for Seneca University, and the powers that be decreed that their guides wear old-fashioned uniforms of short tartan kilts, crisp white shirts, white bobby socks and black patent Mary Janes.

  Her chestnut hair was caught up in two untidy bunches that approximated pigtails. She wore no make-up, not even a coat of mascara on her lashes or a gloss of colour on her lips. Sarah didn’t think she needed make-up – her lashes were thick and her lips were lush and pink. Her eyes, which she considered her best feature, were wide set and such a dark blue that they’d been compared to sapphires (by her dad, true, but still …) and described as navy blue by her boyfriend, David. She’d never felt the need to colour her lids or her cheeks or her mouth – not until now, when she wished with all her heart she could suddenly look like a grown woman, not a little girl. A woman who belonged here.

  It would pass. The awkwardness she always felt in new places would fade away as she got used to the hotel, if she lingered long enough. She was tempted to hoist up her knapsack, heavy with books, and turn tail, but she resisted the impulse. It was steamy hot outside, more like the middle of summer than the end. There was nowhere for her to go, nowhere but home to her room or to David’s place, where he, a teaching assistant in the history department, was conscientiously marking the first papers of the fall semester and nursing the first of his winter colds. She flushed with anger. No way.

  A loud whoop resounded in the cavernous lobby.

  A lobby bar! Sarah’s lucky day, and why not? It was her birthday, after all.

  She glanced longingly at the exclusive shops that called to her, like sirens, from the right side of the lobby. It would only take ten minutes to pick up the clothes and make-up she needed to masquerade as a woman of means. Ten minutes and a credit card that wasn’t already maxed out, as hers was. No.

  Much as she might enjoy the feel of silk or suede against her skin, it wasn’t to be. No more so than a room in this hotel, likely cool and understated, with fresh flowers and a spacious bed made up with luxurious linens and a pristine white duvet, waiting for her to enter and make it hers. No.

  But a split of champagne, in the lobby bar? Yes. That she could almost afford. That was why she was here. She’d waited for this moment for a long, long while, never once succumbing to the urge to so much as slug back a beer or sip a margarita or a zombie or a screwdriver. She’d had a plan, ever since puberty had ripened her, and she’d kept to it: she’d lose her virginity on the very day she could legally drink, age twenty-one. Not old, but not too young, either. To sip champagne and lose herself in sexual delight – both for the very first time – it had seemed a perfect plan. Worth waiting for. But plans have a way of not working out.

  That didn’t stop her from making them. Sarah had a well-ordered mind; she was smart, conscientious and skilled at absorbing information and extrapolating possibilities. These skills should have helped her make sense of the world, which she desperately wanted to do. But people rarely behaved as expected; there were so many variables in the real world, too many, in her opinion. Sarah was beginning to think she’d never find her place in it. She would always be a weirdo, an outsider in a world that must make sense to some, but never would to her.

  Bah. Just because stupid David had forgotten her birthday didn’t mean she had to suffer all day. With a longing farewell glance at the enticing shops she veered to the left.

  Before she could venture into the lobby bar and find a table for one, she was intercepted by the bartender. He held out his hand. For a moment she thought he expected a tip before serving her.

  ‘ID?’ he asked.

  Right. Sarah let her knapsack drop and bent over to root for her wallet. She produced her driver’s licence for inspection, and was gratified when he said, ‘Happy birthday, Ms Meadows.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Your party is right over here.’

  Sarah hoisted her knapsack back up and followed. Her party? She glanced around, half expecting to see David at a table, champagne in a bucket and a room key in hand. It would be so great to discover he hadn’t forgotten her birthday, especially this particular one, and instead had arranged a magnificent …

  The bartender led her to two thirty-ish men in business suits and three younger, vivacious women. All three were dressed in sexy, sophisticated party clothes; one in a very off-the-shoulder top, two with deep cleavages. Before Sarah could protest, she was greeted effusively by the two men and a chair was pulled out for her.

  She sat.

  ‘I’m Jack,’ said a good-looking man, extending his hand, ‘and this is my partner Bill. You are …?’

  ‘I’m Sarah.’

  ‘Glad you could make it – finally,’ muttered one of the women.

  ‘I got lost,’ Sarah mumbled, not understanding how she could be late for an appointment she hadn’t known she had. Still, in a way it was the truth. After her shift she’d headed into downtown Toledo to pick up the textbooks she’d ordere
d from Barnes and Noble, using a gift card she’d received for Christmas. It had seemed worth the extra effort to use it, rather than spend cash at the university book store. But, of course, she’d gotten lost trying to get back to campus from the City. She had zero sense of direction. Nothing short of a personal GPS would make it possible for her to go anywhere without winding up spinning in a confused circle, wondering where the hell she was. It always happened. It always made her mad.

  Even worse, a young passer-by, a straw-haired, snub-nosed girl in a too-young too-short candy-striped poplin dress, had asked for directions to this very hotel. Sarah had said, in her best tour-guide voice, ‘The Royal Avenue Hotel is about ten blocks south, I think.’ The gum-smacking girl had not been pleased. Five minutes later Sarah had turned the corner to discover the new downtown Toledo Royal Avenue. Some tour guide she was!

  ‘No problem, no problem,’ said Jack. ‘What are you drinking?’

  ‘It’s my birthday today. I was planning to order a split of champagne.’

  ‘Your birthday! Marvellous! Bartender, a magnum of Dom Perignon, please.’

  ‘I can’t – I couldn’t possibly –’

  ‘Birthdays come but once a year. And we’re celebrating, right, Bill? We just sold our dot-com company for … well … a great deal of money.’

  ‘Congratulations.’

  Bill piped up. ‘It’s a coup, no less. We set it up just in time to be a thorn in the side of the major web-based industries and, sure enough, one was forced to buy us out. Thanks to Jack, here, we’re set for life.’

  Set for life. What must that feel like? Pay off her student loan, her car loan, the repairs to her car … Sarah had no time to further ponder the concept.

  Frosted flutes were set in front of everyone. The bartender presented a large, elegant bottle. ‘Dom Perignon, 1998, sir,’ he murmured. Jack nodded, and the bartender twisted the cork free. Jack motioned to the glass in front of Sarah, so she was the first to be served.

  ‘It’s so pretty,’ she whispered. She couldn’t help it. The pale-yellow liquid bubbled to a white froth on top. Glasses were raised all around.

  ‘To Sarah,’ said Jack. ‘Happy birthday!’ His dark eyes travelled her body, from her face to her patent Mary Janes, and back. He seemed to like what he saw.

  ‘And to you, Jack and Bill.’ Sarah glanced from Jack to his bigger, balding partner, and back.

  ‘And to Andrea and Silky and Me-Me,’ said one of the women. She eyed Sarah suspiciously. ‘To a good time.’

  Everyone clinked glasses.

  Sarah had her first ever sip of alcohol. Stunning. The champagne burnt her tongue and bubbled up to her brain and down her throat at the same time. ‘Wow,’ she blurted, ‘How delicious.’

  ‘One would think you’d never tasted champagne before,’ said the dusky, exotic woman whose name, Sarah had gleaned, was Silky.

  ‘I haven’t,’ she confessed. ‘I’ve never had an alcoholic drink before. I wanted to wait until I could drink legally, and then start out with champagne. But I wasn’t expecting Dom Perignon, nor was I anticipating such a big bottle!’

  ‘Adorable!’ Jack was clearly pleased with her, even if the young women seemed standoffish. ‘Let me top up your glass.’

  He refilled her flute. Expensive foam dribbled down the side. Sarah’s tongue flicked out to catch it. She didn’t want to waste a drop of the precious fluid. This time, she poured a healthy amount down her throat. It didn’t burn her mouth at all, but rather glided down like liquid silk. She giggled.

  ‘Let’s get out of here,’ Jack said in a low, throaty voice.

  ‘But – the champagne!’ Sarah couldn’t imagine leaving half a magnum of champagne behind. The very thought of it was painful.

  ‘We’ll take it with us,’ said Jack. ‘Let’s go.’

  He stood, as did Bill. The other three women stood as one, and Sarah was left with no choice, really, but to rise as well, though she swallowed the last of the wine in her glass first.

  ‘Whoop!’ She tottered a bit. ‘This stuff is powerful,’ she squeaked.

  ‘God, you’re too good to be true,’ said Jack.

  ‘That’s for sure,’ muttered the woman Sarah knew only as ‘Me-Me’.

  Jack tucked the magnum under his arm, which surely wasn’t allowed, yet the bartender did nothing to stop him. He threw a wad of cash on the table. The party of six made its merry way out of the lobby bar and into the elevator. On the way up, Silky pulled Bill’s head down for a long deep kiss, which paused when an elderly couple entered on the fifth floor and resumed when they exited at the tenth.

  There were only two doors at the top floor of the hotel. Jack slid his key card into one and ushered everyone inside. It was nothing like Sarah had imagined, but then she’d envisioned a room, not a penthouse suite. A row of windows along the far wall allowed sunlight to bathe the huge central room, which was tastefully decorated and accented by vases of fresh-cut flowers and colourful art that had to be just as real as the flowers.

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘What?’ Bill was looking at her. The other women were getting comfortable on the massive cream leather sectional, but Sarah was rooted to the spot.

  ‘I’m … I’m overwhelmed by the decadence,’ she said.

  Jack laughed. ‘You’re perfect. Come, sit.’ He relieved her of her knapsack. ‘What’s in this thing, bricks?’

  ‘Books,’ she said.

  ‘You really take what you do very seriously, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Bill dived onto the sofa amidst the three women. Andrea and Me-Me fell on him like vandals, one loosening his tie and nibbling his ear while the other expertly slipped his belt free and off.

  Silky tilted her head, her lipstick smeared, a cool look of enquiry in her eyes.

  ‘Is there something you need?’ Jack asked Sarah, his voice kind.

  ‘Yes. I’d like to – um – take in the view.’ Sarah felt she could trust him, even if the others seemed odd.

  He laughed. ‘You’re a funny one,’ he said, tugging one of her pigtails playfully. ‘Go ahead. Join us when you’re ready.’

  Sarah practically skipped to the windows. Toledo was laid out before her like a relief map. There was the university, not that far away after all, and there was the airport. A jumbo jet was just taking off. She watched as it rose steeply, defying logic, tucked up its wheels and disappeared into the stratosphere.

  ‘Fantastic!’ She tore her gaze away from the window. All five of her companions were making out madly on the sectional, obviously not at all interested in the spectacular view. ‘Oh.’ Once again she was overwhelmed with the decadence of the scene.

  Bill was now naked except for his open white dress shirt. Andrea was sliding down between his parted legs with feline grace. Me-Me nibbled at his left nipple and caressed his chest. His eyes were closed and his head was thrown back.

  Jack, who Sarah had begun to think of as ‘hers’, was proceeding more slowly. Although Silky had kissed Bill fervently in the elevator, now she was kissing Jack. One of his hands was inside the top of her dress. Silky slipped down the spaghetti straps and tugged the blue satin down so that her large breasts were bared. Jack groaned and buried his face in the valley between them, still toying with one, so that while Sarah watched an espresso-dark nipple stiffened at the centre of an areola like a perfectly round puddle of milk chocolate pudding.

  It was shocking. It was sexy. She didn’t know what to do. This view in the suite was even more enticing than the one outside the window. She edged closer, quietly, not wanting to interrupt.

  Silky’s hand dropped down to Jack’s lap. The outline of his penis, straining against the crotch of his trousers, made it clear he was turned on.

  Everyone was writhing, as if a sex switch had been thrown in the few minutes Sarah had spent watching a plane take flight.

  She was used to foreplay. Endless foreplay that led nowhere. Control. Abstinence. Sobriety. This was the opposite of everything sh
e knew.

  Her cheeks were hot again, not from anger this time, but from – what? Embarrassment? No. Her private parts were tingling, as if she’d taken another sip of champagne and this time it had travelled, not dispersing throughout her body but flowing directly to her clitoris and nipples. Watching the uninhibited, amorous group at play was an incredible turn-on. The word stuck in her brain. Turn-on, like that sex switch she’d imagined, or any machine that hummed to life the moment you pressed the right button. Her clit begged to be that button. Touch me. Turn me. On.

  Jack called to her. ‘C’m’ere baby, come play with us.’

  ‘I want to,’ she said, ‘really I do, but I’m scared.’

  Me-Me clucked disapprovingly. Silky and Andrea ignored Sarah. Silky reached down and popped the buttons of Jack’s fly while Andrea grasped Bill’s hard-on by its thick base and started sucking him off, as cool as you please.

  ‘Don’t be afraid,’ said Jack, his hips twitching against the squirming hand that Silky had slipped into his fly. ‘We’re not going to hurt you.’

  ‘I’ve never done anything like this before.’ Sarah edged closer to the leather sectional, closer to him, closer to the door.

  Jack laughed. ‘Right! Of course you haven’t.’ He rose, which sent Silky sprawling sideways on the couch. Jack tucked himself in as he came to where Sarah stood. ‘Come with me,’ he said, and took her hand.

  The last thing Sarah saw before Jack closed the bedroom door was Silky, scrambling to join Andrea at Bill’s feet.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘I didn’t mean to break up the party.’

  ‘No problem. Those girls are a dime a dozen. You’re something special. This is your first time, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘A sweet virgin who’s never had a drink before, never been fucked. A schoolgirl who needs a man to teach her the joys of sex.’

  Sarah nodded.

  Jack picked her up and sat her on the bed. He knelt between her legs, so that she was higher than him, and kissed her.

  It was nothing like David’s kisses, which were always either tentative or sloppy. This kiss was commanding, its intention clear. She was being taken. She kissed him back, mouth open, tongue flitting, and it went on for some time. When it stopped, they stared at each other with mutually misty eyes.