Fuck!

Mrs. Johnson’s head snaps toward my screech. Then, with a shake of her head, our eighty-year-old neighbor returns her attention to her immaculately maintained flower bed. No doubt formulating a story about her crazy neighbor for the church group’s gossip session.   

My sobs subside, and I turn the car off, ignoring Mrs. Johnson. This isn’t the morning for a vulgarity lecture. I open the trunk to gather my things. Then, to my horror, yesterday’s unimaginable is today’s reality.

Earn your degree, work hard, and prove your dedication, they said. We reward loyalty, they said. But nobody ever mentioned the day they reward your loyalty by squashing your dreams like a bug. That day arrives without advanced warning or compassion. Accompanied by the claim, circumstances allowed no alternative.

Eight years of never refusing an assignment, always the first to arrive and the last to leave, lack value in today’s corporate world. Also lacking is their trust in me to clear my belongings from my office.

Not even an apology. They just handed me my things, promised to mail my recommendation letter, and put my twenty-eight-year-old college-educated ass on the street.

Damn it. I stomp my foot. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.  

I slam the trunk without removing the tiny cardboard box. What good is thirty days of severance pay in this economy? Eight years of my life, and not even a thank you—just the personal touches to my office in a small cardboard box, packed by who knows who and waiting at the receptionist’s desk.

I can’t deal with any of this. So my first step toward the house ended my facade of control.

Desperation replaces the exhilaration of achieving the American dream. Dan and I scrimped and saved until five years ago, and we graduated from apartment life by purchasing this three-bedroom tri-level home in the suburbs. Now fate snatches the brass ring from our fingers. Jobs like the one I lost don’t grow on trees.

My resolve wavers on the front walkway.   

A strange sense of change radiates, yet the living room appears the same. I trace a finger over the mantel, recalling how we splurged for marble: nothing but the best for our forever home. We saved for a year to install the tile work in the kitchen. I dab my eyes, scanning the backyard, recalling the labor of love, transforming a straggly patchwork of grass into the perfect outdoor retreat.

Being forced to sell in this economy will only return pennies on the dollar. This will break Dan’s heart. I perch on the sofa, but the words to explain the end of a dream remain elusive. I bow my head and beg God to help us out of this mess, promising to do anything to save our home.

***

The door opens, bathing the room in the evening’s glow. Dan’s smile fades one step inside, and he freezes. His eyes turn quizzical and lock with mine.

I divert my gaze to conceal the shame.

His mouth slowly opens, and a hint of sadness comes to his eyes as he stares. “Brenda?”

My shoulders heave as the tears flow. But the words to explain my devastation remain lost amongst the swirling images in my mind.

His briefcase drops to the floor, and Dan darts to my side and wraps his arm around my shoulders.

I fight for control. Then, between sobs, I say, “I’m so sorry.”

His brow furrows, asking, “Who died?”

“Unfortunately, not me.”

“Brenda!”

“Honey, I ruined everything.”

He pats my back. “Relax, baby, tell me what happened.”

“They fired me,” I say before bursting into hysterics.

His eyes close. He exhales a whistling breath, asking, “What did you do?”

“I arrived at work this morning, and they gave me two choices. Transfer to Dallas or termination.”

“Dallas?”

I sigh. “They are moving the executive headquarters.”

Dan draws a deep breath. His eyes belied his words, saying, “We’ll come up with something.”

I sob. He must realize that saving our home is hopeless. I set my jaw and nod. Regardless, I’m through with killing myself for the corporate world.

***

Six months later, I still haven’t found another job, much less one paying what my old job paid. So now, two months behind on our house payments, the bank’s calling daily regarding the car payment, and with maxed-out credit cards, I’m desperate.

After turning in half a dozen applications on Monday morning, I stopped by Don’s Bistro for lunch. I sat on the verge of tears at a window table when a voice behind me jars me back to reality.

“Brenda, are you back in town?”

I rolled my eyes to heaven. Why me? Wasn’t enduring this dork hitting on me every chance he got in high school enough? I squeezed my eyes closed, convinced I’d hit rock bottom.

But then common sense takes control. I’m in no position to be rude to Vance Brandon, the CEO of Swarts and Brandon, the third-largest equities company in the state.

A fake smile spreads, and I say, “I live here.”

He pays no attention to the waitress skirting around him with a tray piled high, and squints. “I’m confused. Didn’t Connor offer you a promotion at the Dallas headquarters?”

He’s no more confused than me. How did Vance know this?

I nod. “A position I couldn’t accept.”

He cocks his head with a suspicious stare. “Why?”

I explained that the increased wage they offered wouldn’t offset the loss of my husband’s position. So transferring wasn’t an option.

His smile spreads. “Perfect.”

My head droops. “I’m glad you think so,” I say, grabbing my purse, and paying no attention to the denomination of the bills I toss on the table for a tip.

He stops me, scribbling a phone number on a business card.

He hands me the card, saying, “Drop by my office at two. You’re perfect for the position I have in mind.”

I study the number written on the card.

He chuckles. “My private number. Call anytime.”

A bolt of electricity courses through me, the probability of this defies logic. Finally, after six months of turning in applications with no success, I’m offered a job in a café I never frequent.  

I stare. “What position?”

A wink, and from over his shoulder, he says, “See you at two.”

***

I dry my palms with a tissue in the parking lot and apply fresh lipstick. I then adjust my pale blue A-Line dress and jacket in the reflection of the brass elevator doors.

On the 38th floor, the receptionist arches her eyebrows with a smirk.

In no mood for her attitude, I smile, saying, “I have a two o’clock appointment with Vance Brandon.”

She motions to the hallway, saying, “Last door on the right. Vance is expecting you.”

I make a consorted effort not to flee something too good to be true. Instead, I close my eyes at Vance’s door, take a deep breath, and knock.

Behind a massive mahogany desk, Vance smiles. “Right on time.”  

“You pique my curiosity,” I say, taking a seat. “What’s the position?”

“All in good time. Tell me a bit about yourself first.”

I fight off the impulse to tell this dweeb what I think of him, and shrug. “I’m happily married and searching for a way to kick-start my career.”

He crosses the room to remove a Waterford crystal decanter from the shelf.

“My sources tell me you’re going through a rough patch,” he says, filling two glasses.

I arch my eyebrows.

He sits a cognac in front of me. “How do you plan to rectify this situation?”

I gave him the usual hard work and dedication speech, hoping I sounded convincing.

He takes a sip. “In the work arena, smart pay’s much better than hard,”

“What are you offering?”

“You’re a gorgeous woman.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He leans back in his chair, and my skin crawls as his eyes devour me.

He winks. “You have a choice of one of two positions.”

Something in his tone sent a chill through me. I question how far in the weeds my resolve to do anything to save my home will lead me. My mouth is too dry to speak, so I nod.

“The first position is using your paralegal skills in the corporate contracts department. The annual salary starts at 36 K.”

He gives me a slimy smile, taking another sip.

My heart pounds in my throat, diverting my eyes from his stare.

His fingers form a cathedral, and he stares over the top. “A much more attractive offer is the position of customer development manager. This position starts at 100 K, plus gratuities.”

My eyes lock with his. Did I hear him correctly? Did he offer a position paying double what I made with the old job?  

I clear my throat and ask, “What’s expected of a customer development manager?”

His smile grows. “That depends on the customer.”

“I hate coy, and much prefer direct.”

“I can demonstrate if you wish to interview for the position.”

I nod.

“Fantastic, place your clothes on the coffee table.”

“I’m no whore.”

“Of course not. You’re interviewing for customer development manager.”

A thousand thoughts rush through my mind as I unbutton my jacket.

Vance stares until I stand before him with my arms hanging limp and my hands covering my landing strip.

My voice trembles, asking, “Well, do I meet with your approval?”

“Too soon to tell,” he says, crooking a finger.

I stand beside his chair, and he cocks his head, saying, “Now, convince me to invest with Swarts and Brandon.”

I drop to my knees, reaching for his belt. In a flash, his pants are off, and his cock’s in my mouth. With my lips on his pubic bone and his dick failing to reach my throat, I maintain eye contact, exhausting my entire repertoire of oral stimulation.

The instant his eyes close and his legs tremble, I stand and glare.

His wet little red tool bobs and twitches. “I’m not sold,” he shrugs.

I close my eyes and lean over his polished mahogany desk. A sudden hatred for Pledge overtook me.

Twenty minutes later, Vance sprawls in his chair, gasping, and my head rests on the desk with his cum flowing over my thighs. Then, I fake a satisfied smile with a tilt of my head.

“No job is ever complete until you clean up your mess.”

I roll my eyes and drop to my knees again.

I adjust my skirt in front of his desk with the most God-awful need for a shower.

Vance tosses an envelope on the desk in front of me. “We entertain prospective customers from New York for dinner on Saturday. So, you’ll need to buy a provocative dress and bring your a-game.”

My nose wrinkles, thumbing the stack of bills inside the envelope.

He laughs. “Consider it an advance.”

“What’s next?”

“We’ll discuss arrangements tomorrow.”

My head tilts.

“Margaret will need some forms signed,” he says, adjusting his tie.

“What time?”

“Meet Margaret at Eleven. You’ll meet Bernard after lunch.”

“Bernard?”

A sly smile proceeds the wink. “My partner, he’ll want to …” Vance shrugs. “Interview you.”

“Any other little tidbits you haven’t told me?”

“Just one. I’ll have Stephanie contact you for help with your wardrobe.”

“I’m afraid to ask.”

He chuckles. “She’s the lead facilitator in customer development.”

***

My mind swirls, rushing into the house minutes before Dan’s due home from work. I toss the mail below the mail slot on the end table and fix two drinks. Then, on my second step toward the stairs, Dan pulls into the driveway.

Not having time for a shower draws a curse under my breath. I flop on the sofa, smooth the wrinkles from my skirt, and struggle to control my breathing.    

Dan stops and stares before closing the door behind him. I pat the sofa beside me and hold out a drink. “Join me. I have great news.”

He takes a sip and says, “You’re glowing. I take it you discovered a light at the end of the tunnel.”

I shrug. “I’m the new Customer Development Manager for Swarts and Brandon.”

“I don’t know what that even means.”

I hold out my glass. “It means I’m making a hundred thousand a year.”

I continue with an abbreviated version of my new job. Omitted from my explanation is any mention of my duties. Then Dan sets his drink on the coffee table and takes me in his arms.

His hand darts under my skirt, saying, “I know just how we can celebrate.”

I gasp.

He touches my panties and freezes. His eyes meet mine as I hold my breath, and the color drains from his face.

In a humorless voice, he says, “Your panties are soaked.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and giggle. He stiffens to my touch, and I nibble his earlobe.

I trace my hand over his crotch and say, “Guess what I’ve thought about all afternoon.”

His head tilts.

“OK, your choice. We can talk about your insecurities or your cock in my wet pussy.”

***

Tuesday morning dawns with a returned sense of normalcy. I relax in the kitchen to reflect after Dan leaves for work. But, unfortunately, my mind responded with the oddity of enjoying time alone mid-week.

I place my coffee cup on the table to answer the door. The breathtaking blonde on the doorstep necessitates a moment to find my voice.

Her head tilts as her captivating smile spreads. Finally, she asks, “Brenda?”

I nod, asking, “May I help you?”

She extends her hand. “The name’s Stephanie, and I understand we’re working together.”

I stand aside, and she gives a passing nod, entering the house. I ask, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Vance wants me to outline our duties.”

“Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you. But before we start, may I trouble you for a cup of coffee?”

She turns from the picture on the mantel on my return. “Your husband?”

I nod, handing her a cup.

She gives a slight curtsy and takes a sip. Then, with a nod, she bobs the cup, saying, “Thank you.”  

She joins me on the sofa, scanning the room.

With a tongue click, she asks, “So, how did your husband react to your new position?”

I grimace. “I was a little sketchy on the details.”

“Bad idea,” she says with a slow shake of her head.

“How’s that?”

“This is one secret you can’t hide.”

She’s right, of course, but circumstances left no other choices in my situation. So I ask, “Are you married?”

She nods. “We celebrated our eighth-anniversary last month.”

“And he’s not jealous?”

“He finds the details stimulating.”

My cheeks burn. “The details?”

“Of course, we have no secrets.”

A thousand questions swirl in my mind. But I can’t isolate a solitary one.

“Keeping him in the loop makes this just sex. Remaining a secret shows intimacy,” she says, taking a sip.

A slow shake of my head, and I say, “This wasn’t thought out past the money.”

“Oh, about the money,” a mischievous smile spreads. “Let’s just say the real money is in the gratuities.”

I lean forward, resting my head in my hands.

The color drains from her face. “Are you all right?”

“Reality packs a wallop.”

She pats my hand. “Mind if I ask a personal question?”

“If it helps, ask away.”

“What’s your husband’s biggest fantasy?”

I shrug.

She pats my knee. “Relax, what gets his juices flowing during pillow talk?”

“Fantasizing about us engaging in threesomes drives him crazy.”

“With another man or a woman?”

“Most often, about another woman joining us.”

Stephanie holds her cup in both hands and says, “Girlfriend, I’m going to help you fix this.”

She stands, saying, “Let’s go.”

I squint.

Stephanie giggles. “We need to enhance your wardrobe.”

***

On Thursday evening, every head in the room follows the three of us to our table. With the air of a queen, Stephanie has a dazzling smile strolling through the restaurant, with hips swaying and breasts threatening to spill out of the deep V of her gown.

I wasn’t hungry before we arrived. But the delicious aroma permeating Red’s Steakhouse has my stomach growling.

To the clattering background of a packed restaurant, Stephanie teases Dan mercilessly during dinner. Then, between bouts of hysterical laughter, he asks how long she worked for Swarts and Brandon.

“Five fabulous years.”

“You must enjoy the work.”

She needs a moment to control her laughter. Then, with a broad smile, she chides him about talking shop during playtime.

Dan pries his eyes from her breast, exhaling a whistling breath.

She giggles and pats his hand. “If you must know, my attraction to this job comes from making 400 K last year.”

His head snaps in my direction.

I smile with a shrug.

His head tilts, but Stephanie pushes her chair back before he can speak. “What say we find a place with dance music?”

Dan maintains an ear-to-ear smile, leaving the restaurant with his arms around us. We spend the next two hours at Tony’s, laughing and drinking between dances. Dan was well into the four-hour safety window for an erection on our arrival home.

Stephanie molds her body against Dan on the sofa. She twists to face him, exposing the nipple of her right breast, and says, “God, I’m horny. Have you two ever given thought to a threesome?”

The color drains from Dan’s face as his eyes lock with mine,

I giggle. “Only every other fantasy.”

Dan’s gaze intensifies.

Stephanie strokes a hand over his crotch. “You mean we wasted the night when we could have spent the time in bed together?”

I arch my eyebrows. “Works for me. How about you, honey? Are you up for making memories?”

“Will you two quit teasing?”

Without another word, Stephanie stands, and a moment later, her dress hits the floor. Naked, she straddles his knees and brings his hand to her twat. “Does that feel like I’m teasing?”

“Brenda put a stop to this. I’m only human.”

“You started this,” I say with a sly smile.

“I did no such thing.”

I giggle. “You made promises on the dance floor by grinding into her all evening.”

He stares with pleading eyes.

“Don’t give me that look. You started the fire. Now deal with it, baby.”

Dan’s gaze passes between Stephanie and me before he asks, “Stephanie, you’re a married woman. What will your husband say?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Should we call and ask?”

Dan face glows red as he stammers. He moves to stand, but Stephanie spins around, landing in his lap. He squirms, and I laugh.

Men, what do they find so embarrassing about an erection? Whatever it is, Stephanie’s grinding ass is taking full advantage.   

“Oh, you naughty boy,” Stephanie says, wagging a finger.

Dan grips her waist and shoots me a confused stare.

With one more arch of her hips, she says, “Don’t worry, I understand, sorry. Where’s your phone?”

Dan points to the phone with a tilt of his head.

“I’ll give Tony a jingle. He’ll be right over.”

Dan’s expression is priceless as he shrugs.

Steph giggles. “You want to see Brenda getting it on with another guy, and my husband loves new partners.”

“No …” He says before mumbling something incoherent.

Stephanie laughs.

I squint. “What did he say?”

She arches her eyebrows. “Tell her.”

Dan takes a deep breath. “I can’t wait that long.”

***

Half an hour later, Dan’s deflating cock is still inside Stephanie as she sprawls over his chest. She giggles, “Was it all you were hoping for?”

“In my wildest fantasy, I imagined nothing this fantastic.”

She smiles, kissing his cheek. “The evening’s young. What other fantasies can I fulfill for you?”

He thrusts his hips. “Even with all your talents, you can’t fulfill this one.”

“Try me.”

Dan shoots me a glance and blushes.

I wink with an arch of my shoulders and wait for him to take the bait.

Stephanie sits upright and grinds her flowing pussy into him.

Dan burst out laughing, begging her to stop.

“Tell me, and I’ll stop.”  

“I want Brenda to enjoy another man.”

“Hold on, you two,” I say with a giggle. “Having sex in front of Dan is a big ask.”

Dan’s face droops. “But the idea fascinates me.”

I shake my head.

“You know you want to,” Stephanie says, tickling my ribs.  

“Honey, please, anything but that. Can you imagine how embarrassing I find doing that in front of you?”

She studies me. “So, your only problem with fulfilling his fantasy is him watching?”

I nod.

Stephanie arches onto her elbows above Dan and asks, “You can always give her a hall pass and hear about the encounter afterward.”

 Dan’s eyes dart to me. “What do you think, honey? Would you feel comfortable with that?”

I arch my shoulders. “The things I do for you.”

He turns to Steph and says, “But we must ensure she’s safe.”

She rolls off him and nods. “Absolutely.” Her head tilts, and she says, “Would you like to hear what I sometimes do for Tony?”

Dan nods.

“Part of our job is to meet with investors from around the country.” She giggles. “I feel so naughty.”

I lean forward. “What do you do?”

“These guys are rich, horny, and best of all, only in town for a day or two.”

“You don’t,” I say, covering my mouth.

“Not all the time, but if the guy excites me,” she shrugs. “Then I tell Tony everything he did to me, and we fuck for hours.”

Dan’s mouth opens, and he asks, “Are you saying your husband also enjoys hearing stories about you fucking other men?”

“When I tell him about tonight,” she smiles. “He’ll eat your cum from my pussy while I tell him how good it felt getting there.”

“God, I know how he feels,” Dan says, stroking his erection.

Stephanie smiles, “And the perks are mind-blowing.”

“The perks,” Dan asks with arched eyebrows.

“Money means nothing to these guys. I’ve received money, cars, vacations, and tons of jewelry.”

Dan’s eyes narrow. “Are you saying this is prostitution?”

She shakes her head. “No, the sex is freely engaged in on my part. And afterward, I’m happy to accept their gratitude.”

“Brenda, why don’t you take care of your husband’s condition while he tells you how much he wants you fucked.”

***

I spend the entire afternoon trying to rationalize what I’m doing. My stomach’s in knots as I take a long bath. My hands shake so badly that I struggle to apply makeup. But the instant I slip on my evening gown, I stiffen in resolve to save our home.

On Saturday evening, I descend the stairs in a sexy satin evening gown and grab my purse. Dan stares for a moment before closing his mouth.

My head tilts, searching for the right words. But nothing other than images of the lecherous evening ahead fill my mind.

Dan asks, “What time can I expect you home?”

How the hell should I know, I want to scream. I’ve never had to whore myself to save our home before. But I bite my lip and arch my shoulders instead.

“Honey, I’ve done nothing like this before.” I shrug, 

He nods. “Call if there are any signs of a problem.”

“I will,” I say, kissing his cheek. “Honey, Steph’s waiting.”

He nods. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

I blow him a kiss and dart to Steph’s car.

***

The door closes, and I say, “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

“You are smoking, girlfriend. That dress is hot.”

“Thanks,” I say with a giggle. “I love your taste in clothes.”

The engine of the 500 series Mercedes roars, pulling away from the curb. We rode in silence for several minutes. Exhilaration and fear combine to create a numb sensation.  

“What can I expect tonight?”

“Just have fun and roll with the flow.”

I shiver and say, “Easy for you to say.”

My mind swirls for twenty minutes until we pull into an underground parking garage. Our heels click on the concrete floor, crossing to the elevator.

I scan the area and ask, “Where are we?”

Steph enters a key card in a slot under the bank of buttons and clicks the top button, saying, “Passions.”

I scrunch my nose. “Never heard of it.”

“Swarts and Brandon aren’t big on advertising a private sex club.”

The elevator doors part to reveal a long hallway. Steph opens the first door we come to, revealing a luxurious bar ordained in a dark wood, leather furniture, and brass trimming.

She allows me to take in everything and says, “We meet and greet the players here.”

We next enter a plush dining room. Tuxedo-clad men and women in formal evening gowns scurry about, setting the table.

“The evening starts here with a gourmet dinner,” Steph says with a swipe.

 Further down the hallway, we enter another bar. This one contains a dance floor, stuffed leather chairs around cocktail tables, and a twirling mirrored chandelier. “Do your best to avoid playing in here.” She giggles, saying, “Occasionally, things get out of hand, but do your best.”

I nod.

“OK, let’s check out the party area.”

We returned to the elevator and went to the seventeenth floor. The floor is stylish but far less plush than the one above. The first door leads to a large room with king-sized beds along one wall, futons on the floor in the back, two sex swings, and a rough-cut wood rack in the shape of a large X on one wall.

“So, places like this exist.”

Steph nods and points out a cabinet on the back wall. “The cabinet contains S&M paraphernalia. In addition, you will find the end tables stocked with lube and condoms.”

The next room resembles a motel room. “If your playmate requires privacy, bring them here.”

I nod.

She swipes both hands, motioning along both sides of the hallway with identical doors.

“These are all private rooms.”

I nod.

“If you bring somebody to a private room, click this switch,” she says, pointing out the light switch beside the door. “It illuminates this little red occupied light above the door.”

Inside the room, she points out the smoke detector, the AC vent, and the cabinet across from the bed. “Some of these guys like a souvenir. So, they positioned cameras around the room to cover every angle.”

“They film every encounter?”  

She shakes her head. “You control the cameras with the switch beside the bed.”

“To each their own, I guess,” I say with a shrug.

“Don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it,” Steph says with a giggle. “They frown on it, but I sometimes bring home a video gift for Tony.”

“You do what?”

“He loves having a porn star for a wife.” She hands me a thumb drive, saying, “The computer’s in the cabinet if you find the urge to treat Dan.” She smiles. “Check the date stamp on the file to locate your escapade.”

We leave the seventeenth floor for the sixteenth floor. She leads me to room number six and hands me a key card. “This is your private dressing room,” she says, showing me inside.

I tilt my head.

“Sometimes you need a little time alone. I also keep a change of clothes.”

I squint.

She giggles. “Sometimes, a guy’s exuberance gets out of hand, removing the gift wrapping. If things get carried away, I don’t find returning home naked an appealing option.”

“A lot to remember.”

“Questions?”

“How many people are attending tonight?”

“I haven’t heard. Most often fifteen to twenty.”

“How many of us work here?”

“You, me, and three other girls.”

“Five girls for twenty guys?”

Steph laughs. “Most of the guys bring along wives or girlfriends.”

I stare, asking, “Isn’t that like bringing a bag lunch to a banquet?”

“They like sharing,” Steph says with a wink. “Are you ready to kick start this dog and pony show?”

***

Vance leads a group of laughing revelers through the door. I watch them in the mirror behind the bar, stopping for introductions.

 Finally, his arm slides around my waist. “You’re scrumptious tonight.”

I flip the lapel of his tux. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

He turns to the short, round gentleman beside him. “Max, may I introduce Brenda? The young lady I mentioned.”

I smile, realizing this guy couldn’t get laid in a whore house.

Without raising his eyes from my breast, he extends a hand, saying, “A pleasure.”

“Yes, they are,” I say with a giggle.

His eyes rise to meet mine with a sigh. “How about we find someplace private to get better acquainted?”

“Stimulating idea. Ask me again after dinner.”

Over the next hour, we mingled as a group. I gave hugs, shook hands, and promptly forgot half their names before they called us to dinner.

In the dining room, two bewitching ladies lay on linen-covered tables with hors d’oeuvre positioned strategically on their naked bodies.

A man in his fifties and the trophy wife on his arm approached. The lady snatches an oyster from the nudes belly, dips it in the shell covering her labia, and pops it in her mouth. Then, with a sigh, she tosses the end of her mink shawl over her shoulder and suckles the exposed breast.

A stylish gentleman with salt and pepper hair glances over as I pull the chair from the front of my name tag. He comes to his feet, and as I sit, he scoots my chair forward.  

I smile as he joins me. “Thank you.”

He extends his hand. “Oscar.”

I take his hand. “Brenda. It’s a pleasure.”

“I don’t recall seeing you here before.”

“Tonight’s a first.”

He pats my hand. “What say we make the evening memorable?”

“I’m old-fashioned, and I hope you’re not disappointed.”  

He flashes a toothy smile. “You already validated my decision to come tonight.”

Oscar ensures the other guests in the room fade into the background during dinner. Our conversation remains on vanilla topics, and as they serve dessert, I feel I’ve known him for years.    

I scan the room when our conversation lulls and cover my mouth to suppress a giggle.

His head tilts as he stares.

My hands sweep around the empty table.

He shrugs.

“You captivated me to the point of not noticing them leave,” I say with a sexy smile.

He takes my hand. “Can I convince you to join me somewhere a little more private?”

I nod. “Prying eyes in an empty room is so annoying.”

He arches his eyebrows.

“Sorry, lead the way,” I say, taking his arm.

***

I step inside and flip the occupied switch. The door clicks closed, and Oscar takes me in his arms for a passionate kiss. His sky-blue eyes devour me when our lips part, his fingers comb through my hair, and he ogles me instead of groping and grabbing.

He takes a step back, saying, “Give me a moment. I’ll be right back.”

I nod, and he goes to the restroom.

Alone beside the bed, I shrug and flip the camera switch.

Oscar comes out of the bathroom naked, and I gasp. His flaccid cock hangs to mid-thigh. He winks, “What say we prepare you for what’s coming?”

He takes my shoulders, spinning me around. Finally, my dress hits the floor, and he drops to his knees to lower my panties. My mind spins when he positions me on my back, spreads my legs, and crawls between them.

His tongue and lips drove me through two orgasms. Then, he stabs my cunt with an extended middle finger while sucking my clit. He withdraws his finger, and my hand shoots to replace his on my clit. I open my eyes to find his plum-sized cockhead at my lips. Mesmerized by the size, I stare.  

I kiss and lick the head as he pinches my nipples.

He glares with lust-filled eyes as I yelp. “I hope you’re ready because I’m about to tear that pussy up.”

My upper lip curls the instant his bulbous head touches my entrance. I stare in silent anticipation as he traces the head between the lips of my labia. He eases forward, and I gasp as the head parts my lips.

He smiles. “Hold on, the road to heaven isn’t paved.”

With more cock inside me than ever before, my eyes open. A moan escapes my lips, realizing only half of his anaconda is inside. Ten minutes passed before his balls slapped my ass. Then, a slow withdrawal, and we start the process again.

Ever so slowly, the pain transforms into a fiery pleasure. My hips arch to meet his thrusts. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he fucks me with ever-increasing speed and ferocity. Then, in one swift motion, I’m on my hands and knees, and he’s slamming into me from behind.

I stopped counting the orgasms, content to ride this train to the depot. The sharp crack of his hand slaps my wet ass again and again. Finally, his grip tightens on my hips. His balls bounce against my clit, and he gasps. My entire body trembles as his cum squirts against my cervix.

His shrinking dick fascinates me. I concentrate on every fold and ridge until he reaches the size of an average man at full mast. And ask, “How big is that damn thing?”

He laughs. “Big enough to eliminate women questioning if it’s in.”

Oscar eases free. “Baby, I hate to leave good company, but I have a red-eye flight to Atlanta in two hours.”

I dart to the bathroom, “Be right back.”

On my return, I hugged him. “Any chance of rescheduling your flight?”  

He shakes his head, adjusting his tie. “Not this time, honey.”

I hug his neck. “You were right.”

“About what?”

“You made this evening memorable.”

Oscar takes a step back with a tilt of his head and says, “Something’s missing.”

I glance in the mirror. “What?”

He drapes a diamond necklace around my neck. “This.”

I shudder at a reply, staring at my reflection.

“Perfect,” he says with a smile.

He studies me again and says, “I stand corrected.” He takes my hand and wraps a diamond bracelet around my wrist.

 “Oscar, this is unnecessary.”

“Maybe so, but it’s my pleasure.” He kisses my forehead and turns to leave. Then, with a wink, he handed me a half-inch thick envelope. “Find someplace nice to buy yourself a beer.”

***

The night precedes until after two guys have their way with me in the orgy room. Next, a couple takes me to a private room for a bit of fun. And separately, two distinguished gentlemen escort me to a private room to bask in my charms.

At two AM, Steph joins me as I nurse a club soda at the bar. The bartender nods in reaction to her upraised finger, and she asks, “Did you survive?”

“The truth?”

She nods.

“I enjoyed myself, and one guy was especially nice.”

Her body trembles. “Let me guess, Oscar?”

I nod with a smile.

Steph giggles. “He’s memorable.”

“I’ll never forget him,” I say, bursting into laughter.

Steph drains her glass and asks, “Are you ready?”

I glance around the empty room. “For what?”

“We’ve had enough fun for one night.”

“Are we leaving before the party’s over?”

“Honey, we’re the last two here,” she rolls her eyes. “You closed the bar.”

We pull out of the parking lot, and Steph says, “Don’t pout if you’re still horny.”

My head tilts.

“Dan waits with every nerve ending twitching to hear every detail,” she laughs. “He may not quit banging you until morning.”

I bite my lower lip. “Yeah, I hope that’s his reaction.”

Steph hands me a thumb drive.

I examined it for a moment before giving her a quizzical stare.

Steph laughs. “If your verbal explanation lacks the desired effect, seeing you in the orgy room will kick start his libido.”

***

Dan leaps from the sofa and stares wide-eyed.

I close the door behind me and smile. “You’re still awake?”

He nods, “My emotional roller-coaster started the instant you walked out the door.”

I sigh, “Mine too.”

His hands shake, and his voice trembles, asking, “Are you all right?”

“A little tired, but I’m fine.”

Dan twists in the breeze a moment longer before flopping onto the sofa. Then he springs back to his feet, asking, “Can I fix you anything? Maybe coffee or a drink?”

I shake my head. “No, I’m fine.”

“Damn it, Brenda, come out with it. What happened?”

I trace the outline of his erection and ask, “Been in this condition long?”

“All fucking night. Will you get on with it, honey?”

I shrug. “Everything?”

“Every single detail.”

“On second thought, I’ll take that drink.”

Dan darts to the kitchen, and I flop on the sofa to organize my thoughts.

He returns with two glasses of Jack Daniels on the rocks and joins me on the sofa.

I take a deep breath. “OK, Steph picked me up, and we drove to ….”

Dan cuts me off. “I don’t give a damn about that. Tell me where you went and what happened.”

I give an abbreviated version of Passions and skim through dinner, including the nudes on the table. Then I mention Oscar inviting me to a private room.

“What did he look like?”

Every time I say something, Dan interrupts me with questions. So, I say, “OK, enough of this. Sync the laptop to the TV in the bedroom.”

“Why?”

I arch my eyebrows. “How would you feel about me showing you what happened tonight?”

I sware a lightbulb goes off in his head as he leaps from the sofa and darts upstairs.

Ten minutes later, I entered the bedroom naked. I slip the thumb drive into the computer and turn to face Dan. “If this comes back to bite me in the ass.” I glare.

“Set the scene for me.”

I explain Oscar is my dinner companion, and the video starts after dinner, joining him in a private room.  

Dan nods, sitting upright on the bed.

The video starts with me standing alone beside the bed. When Oscar enters the room naked, Dan’s cock bounces against his abdomen.

His eyes bulge, and his hand darts to my pussy as Oscar’s monster rises to the occasion.

“Don’t worry, it’s still the same size,” I giggled. “Well, almost.”

When I’m on my back and Oscar is eating me, Dan starts fingering me.

Oscar places the head of his monstrous cock at my entrance, and Dan freezes. He doesn’t twitch until Oscar starts fucking the entire length of his shaft into me. Then Dan tosses me onto my hands and knees, driving his dick into me like a madman.

In moments, Dan nuts, but he doesn’t stop thrusting. The instant the video shows me with my legs spread wide, and Oscar’s cum flowing between the cheeks of my ass, Dan blows another load.

I fake an orgasm to motivate Dan to stop his insatiable thrusting, and we flop in a huddle on the bed.

Dan regains a semblance of normal breathing and says, “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

I turn to face him and ask, “So, you’re good with what took place?”

Dan chuckles. “It was like seeing my every fantasy in living color.”

“No misgivings?”

“Only one.”

I arch my eyebrows.

He exhales a long breath. “I wish you had taken more videos,”

With a smile, I click my tongue. “I did.”

The exotic sounds of Georgette and I thrashing around in a classic sixty-nine in the orgy room fill the bedroom. Dan rolls me onto my back. Then, without removing his eyes from the scene, he brings his mouth to my well-used pussy. In moments, I’m convinced he possesses the best oral skills ever experienced.

He slides up my body until his cock slips effortlessly into my pussy.

Our eyes lock a moment, and he says, “I’ve never experienced you this wet.”

I giggle, “You ride in the caboose for the first time.”

His tongue darts over his lips. “How many men fucked you tonight?”

“Seven, counting you.”

His entire body trembles. He grabs my waist and arches his hips. The third orgasm failed to produce the same amount of semen, but he exhibited the same intensity.  

***

My outstretched hand finds cold sheets. Alone in bed, I stretch and head to the shower.

Dan’s eyes rose to meet mine when entering the kitchen. He points to the fresh pot of coffee on the counter.

My head tilts, placing my cup on the table. “Is there a problem?”

He shakes his head and stares.

After five minutes of listening to the refrigerator run, I say, “OK, out with it. What’s the problem?”

His head bows. And he asks, “The men you were with last night …” He takes another sip of his coffee.

“You have no reason for penis envy if that’s the problem.”

“That’s not it,” he says without making eye contact.

“What is it, then?”

“Did you allow them to do anything you forbid me?”

I close my eyes and exhale a long breath. “I’ll be right back.”

Upon returning, I place the diamond necklace and bracelet on the table. Then I empty the contents of six envelopes alongside the jewelry. “This is the only attraction I maintain for what I engaged in last night.”

He nods, staring at the pile of hundred-dollar bills.

“Take next week off, and we’ll go someplace special.”

“For any particular reason?”

I nod. “I’m in this for the money, but at some point, I may find myself in a position forcing me to engage in something I don’t care for.”

“Then quit.”

I smile. “We can’t afford that,” I say, taking his hand. “What we can afford is going somewhere and allowing me to fulfill your every fantasy.”

“What good would that do?”

“Prevent me engaging in anything I forbid you, for starters.”

He shrugs.

“Don’t be coy. Take next week off if you want me to swallow your load and allow you to fuck my ass.”

Without a word, Dan stands and walks away.

“Where are you going?”

“Call work and tell them I won’t be in next week.”

Moments later, he reenters the kitchen and flops in his chair.

I suppress a laugh, staring over my coffee cup.

Dan takes a deep breath. “It’s Sunday.”

I nod. “I know.”