Portia Da Costa - purveyor of erotic romance and erotica to the discerning woman since 1994

THE ACCIDENTAL CALL GIRL [Accidental Trilogy Book #1]

Please be aware that this excerpt contains sensual content that is only suitable for adult readers who are comfortable with frank language and descriptions of erotic scenarios

The Accidental Call Girl - click for big versionBackground

My first new Black Lace novel since 2008, The Accidental Call Girl has been in my mind since then, begging me to write it. At the time I first conceived the story, I was inspired by the television drama, The Secret Diary of a Call Girl but my heroine Lizzie really isn't very much like Belle de Jour, the ex escort whose memoirs inspired the show. For one thing, she isn't actually a call girl... or maybe she is, but with only one, very special client. Who may or may not be called "John Smith".


When Lizzie Aitchison meets John Smith in the Lawns Bar of the Waverley Grange Hotel she doesn't realise at first that he thinks she's "working". The chemistry between them is dynamite from the very first glance exchanged across the room, and she can't resist the allure of his fallen angel face and the way his lean body looks in a sharp business suit. Pretty soon, she's playing a dangerous game with him. John's a no nonsense guy who seems to be set on engaging an escort for sex rather than simply meeting a pretty girl to chat up in a bar, and if that's the only way she can get this gorgeous, irresistible man, Lizzie decides to act the part. Over just one drink, she becomes "Bettie", the high class call girl...

Black Lace Books

Print :: Amazon.com :: Amazon.co.uk :: Waterstones :: W H Smith :: Barnes and Noble

Digital :: Kindle UK :: Kindle US :: Kobo :: Nook :: iBooks


Chapt. 1 - Meeting Mr Smith [unedited]

He looked like a god, the man sitting at the end of the bar did. Really. Somehow, the glow from the down-lighter just above him made his blond hair look like a halo. It was the most breath-taking effect and Lizzie just couldn't stop staring.

Oops, oh no, he suddenly looked her way. Unable to face his sharp eyes, she focused on her glass. Tonic, really boring. But she'd done some mad things in her time, both under the influence and sober. And she was alone now, and squarely in the mad things zone, having got bored with the party she was supposed to be at in the hotel's function room with Brent and Shelley and the others.

To look again or not to look again, that was the question. She wanted to. The man was so very hot, although not her usual type. Whatever that was. Slowly, slowly, she turned her head a few centimetres, straining her eyes in order to see the god or angel guy, out of their corners.

Fuck! Damn! He wasn't looking now. He was chatting to the bar man, favouring him with a killer smile, almost as if he fancied him not any of the women at the bar. Was he gay? It didn't really matter though, did it? She was only supposed to be looking, after all, and he really was a sight for sore eyes.

With his attention momentarily distracted, she grabbed a feast of him.

Not young, definitely. Possibly early forties. Dark blond, curling hair, thick and a bit longer than one would have expected for his age, but not straggling. Gorgeous face, even though his features, in analysis, could almost have been called ordinary. Put together, however, there was something extra, something indefinable that induced a 'wow'. Perhaps it was his eyes? They were very bright, very piercing. Yes, it was the eyes, probably. Even from yards away, she could tell they were a clear, beautiful blue.

Or maybe it was his mouth too? His lips were mobile, and they almost had a plush look to them. The smile he gave the lucky barman was almost sunny, and when he suddenly snagged his lower lip between his teeth, something went 'oof!' in Lizzie's mid-section. And lower down too.

What's his body like? What's his body like?

Hard to tell, with the curve of the bar, and other people sitting between them, but if his general demeanour, and the elegant shape of his hand as he lifted his glass to his lips were anything to go by, he was lean and fit. But, that could be wishful thinking, she admitted. He might actually be just some podgy middle-aged guy who just happened to have a fallen angel's face and a very well-cut suit.

Just enjoy the bits you can see, fool. That's all you'll ever get to look at.

With that, as if he'd heard her, Fallen Angel snapped his head around and looked directly at her. No pretence, no hesitation, he stared her down, his eyes frank and intent, his velvet lips curved in a tricky, subtly quirked smile. As if showcasing himself, he shifted slightly on his stool, and she was able to see a little more of him.

She'd been exactly right. He was lean and fit, and the sleek way his clothes hung on him clearly suggested how he might look when those clothes were flung wildly on the floor.

The temptation to look away was like a living force, as if she were staring at the sun and its brilliance was a fatal peril. But Lizzie resisted the craven urge, and held his gaze. She didn't yield a smile. She just tried to eyeball him as challengingly as he was doing her, and her reward was more of that sun on the lips and in the eyes, and a little nod of acknowledgement.

'For you, miss.'

The voice from just inches away almost made her fall off her stool. She actually teetered a bit, cursing inside as she dragged her attention from the blue-eyed devil-angel at the end of the bar to the rather toothsome young bar man standing right in front of her.

'Er... yes, thanks. But I didn't order anything.'

There was no need to ask who'd sent the drink that had been set before her, in a plain low glass, set on a white napkin. It was about an inch and a half of clear fluid, no ice, no lemon, no nothing. Just what she realised he was drinking.

She stared at it as the bar man retreated, smiling to himself. He must go through this dance about a million times every evening in a busy, popular, softly lit bar like The Lawns. It was the ideal venue for advances and retreats, games of 'do you dare' over glasses of fluids various.

What the hell was that stuff? Lighter fluid? Drain cleaner? A poisoned chalice?

She put it to her lips and took a hit, catching her breath. It was neat gin, not the vodka she'd half expected. It seemed a weird drink for a man, but perhaps he was a weird man? Taking a very cautious sip this time, she placed the glass back carefully and turned towards him.

Of course, he was watching, and he did a thing with his sandy eyebrows that seemed to ask if she liked his gift. Lizzie wasn't sure that she did, but she nodded at him, took up the glass again and toasted him.

The dazzling grin gained yet more wattage, and he replied. Then with another elegant piece of body language, a tilt of the head, a lift of the shoulders, he indicated she should join him. More blatantly, he patted an empty stool beside him.

Here, rover! Just like an alpha dog, he was summoning a bitch to his side.

Up yours!

Before she could stop herself, or even really think what she was doing, Lizzie mirrored his little pantomime.

Here, Fido! Come!

There was an infinitesimal pause. The man's exceptional eyes widened, and she saw surprise and admiration. Then he slid gracefully off his stool, caught up his drink and headed her way.

Oh God, now what have I done?

Print from :: Amazon.com :: Amazon.co.uk :: Waterstones :: W H Smith :: Barnes and Noble

Digital from Kindle UK :: Kindle US :: Kobo :: Nook :: iBooks

© 2012 Portia Da Costa and Black Lace Books

Lizzie and John's love story continues in...

The Accidental Mistress


The Accidental Bride