There's something about warm sunny days that makes me feel good. I stood on the front stoop for a few moments enjoying the sun's warming rays, dressed in my flannel pajamas and a terry cloth bathrobe. As I walked toward the mailbox at the curb, my neighbor Chuck, who was weeding his garden, waved at me.

"Morning, Blondie!" Chuck exclaimed, a big smile on his face.

"Hiya, Chuck," I replied as I reached the mailbox.

Since Barry always did this, I hadn't checked the mailbox and found a stack of mail waiting for me.

Thumbing through the mail as I walked back, I noticed out of the corner of my eye Chuck had risen from his knees and was standing at the edge of his property like a puppy dog stopped by an invisible fence.

I smiled and turned to walk toward him.

"Hard at work in your garden again," I said.

Chuck's smile widened as he replied, "Damn, weeds will take over if you don't stay on top of them."

As I crossed the driveway, I could tell he was undressing me visually—a look I'd never noticed in Chuck's eyes before.

"I like the new hair color," Chuck said as his eyes moved up to where the neighbor's eyes were supposed to be.

I grinned, then said, "Thanks, Chuck. I needed a change." I used my free hand to tease a few blonde locks behind my ear.

"Well, it's a very nice change,”  Chuck complimented.

"I haven't seen Barry around. Is he on a business trip?" Chuck questioned.

I dropped my eyes off him as I confessed, "Actually, Barry and I separated a few days ago." Not offering any of the juicy details about my ex's infidelity.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, Margaret," Chuck said.

"It's probably for the best,” I replied.

"So, are you going to put the house on the market?" Chuck asked.

"Oh no!" I exclaimed.

"I'm going to try and keep the house if I can,” I added, knowing that my new occupation would make that easily possible.

"Glad to hear that, Peg. I hate getting to know new neighbors," Chuck explained.

"Well, hopefully you won't need to,” I replied with a smile on my lips.

"It's a pretty big house for one lady to care for. If you need help with anything, you know I'm just next door,” Chuck said sheepishly.

"And what would Millie think about you helping a divorcee around the house?" I asked, knowing his wife held the leash rather tightly regarding Chuck being around other women.

Chuck smiled and took a step closer. "What Millie doesn't know won't hurt her."

"Chuck Sampson, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were coming on to me,” I replied.

He held his arms to his sides with palms facing me. "Well, Peg, you know older might be better,” he said, thrusting his hips toward me like he was fucking.

"I'll keep that in mind,” I said, smiling and looking down at his loins.

"Do that,” he replied as he began to turn and walk back toward his gardening.

Turning away from him, I thought. It wouldn't take long for Chuck to tell Millie that Barry and I split up, and she would be gossiping to all the other neighborhood wives. I could expect offers of help around the house from some of the other bored husbands in the neighborhood.

Just before I was about to close the front door, a sheriff's squad car stopped in front of the house. The sheriff jumped out and called to me, "Margaret?”

I stopped in my tracks and turned toward him.

"Are you Margaret Jacobs?" he asked as he approached across the lawn.

"I am,” I replied.

The sheriff reached out, holding an envelope. "You've been served,” he announced.

I took the envelope from him and said, "Thanks for nothing."

He shrugged and replied, "Don't shoot the messenger." Then turned and headed back to his cruiser.

I put the envelope with the rest of the mail and headed for the front door. Chuck was still standing at one of his many flower beds, and I just gave him a half smile and a wave before I went inside and closed the door.

Once inside, I leaned against the door, still feeling a little worn from the fuck fest of the night before. My ass cheeks felt bruised, and there was just a twinge of pain when I swallowed.

I recalled the feeling of having three hard cocks buried in my body, and to be quite honest, I didn't find the sensation all that appealing. There's something about being able to concentrate on just one cock that I enjoyed more.

I giggled, then said out loud, "Mental note to self: no more ménage trios'."

The smell of freshly brewed coffee captured my senses, and I carried the mail to the kitchen, tossing the stack next to my laptop, then poured a cup of java, adding a little Irish cream and a packet of sweet and low.

As I enjoyed my morning drink, I started sorting the mail, junk from others, and, unfortunately, Margaret from Barry. I kept the utility bills in the Margaret pile since I wanted to start establishing that I would be writing checks for those bills.

So many little details have to be changed when a married couple splits. I thought about starting a list, but I've never been one to make lists, so I would have to remember what needed to be done.

The first thing I'd have to do is call Laura and let her know that I was served divorce papers. I could also ask her what I should do about the mail that must go to Barry. I could wait until the divorce was final to change the utility accounts over to my name, and I supposed I should open a checking account for myself. Maybe I should make a written list, so I don't forget anything.

I opened the sheriff's gift and started reading. It began with "In the Court of Common Pleas Barry Jacobs, Plaintiff Vs. Margaret Jacobs, Defendant:" I skipped over the legal mumbo jumbo. I went right to the list of allegations, which was quite lengthy but didn't seem to include infidelity as one of his contentions. I assumed that was a good thing since if Barry had known that I was having sex while he was being a football zombie, adultery would have been on the top of the list.

All this legal stuff was for Laura to handle; that's what I was paying for, so I folded the papers and placed them back in the envelope. I'd have to call her later and drop the papers off at her seedy little office.

The rest of the mail was primarily flyers and other junk, so I was happy to toss most of it in the trash.

I stood up and looked out the window. Millie was standing in the Fisher's driveway across the street talking with Sue Fisher. Word of the Jacob's split would spread through the neighborhood faster than I thought.

Well, they can all kiss my sweet ass, I thought, but I knew there would be plenty of eyes peeking through blinds to see who was coming and going at my place. I'd have to be very discreet should there come a time when a client or even Franklin stopped by again.

I returned to the table with a fresh cup of coffee and opened my laptop. After entering the password, my email server opened. I had two emails from Daddy.

Clicking on the oldest with "Good Job" in the subject line I read.

"Angel, I just wanted you to know that we received communications from the senator-elect staff. They are asking if we could provide accompaniment for three high-level guests at a weekend function in Cancun. Since you were instrumental in making this contact, I wanted to offer you one of the spots before contacting the rest of our staff. It would be a three-day appointment, and all travel arrangements would be your responsibility, as well as payment for those arrangements. The compensation would be $3,500 for the weekend, but your airline ticket would be paid from that amount. Please let me know if you are interested before the end of today so I can finalize plans with the other staff members. Thanks, Daddy."

I leaned back in my chair. Was he kidding? Daddy was offering me three days in Cancun, and he had to see if I was interested. Hell, I'd do three days in Cancun for a hundred a day. Even if the round trip airline ticket were half the thirty-five hundred, I'd still be able to deposit seventeen fifty in my account.

It was a no-brainer. I clicked reply and sent a short message. "I'm in, Daddy."

His second email was much shorter. It read, "Angel, no appointments for today. Check your mail tomorrow morning."

I replied, "Thanks, Daddy." And then clicked send.

Everything else in my inbox was junk mail, so I deleted them and shut the computer down.

Wow, I thought another free day. I could spend this one pampering myself and give my body another twenty-four hours to recover from the fuck fest at the Regency Hotel last night, plus I could get the divorce papers to Laura today.

I picked up my cell and pressed her name in my speed dial list.

"This is Laura Stevens. I can't take your call now, so please leave me your name and number, and I'll call you back as soon as possible," her recorded voicemail greeting said.

After the beep, I left a message. "Laura, this is Margaret Jacobs. I was served with divorce papers this morning and wanted to know what I should do with them. I also have a couple of other questions for you, so please give me a call back on my cell when you can."

I didn't leave my number since she had it on my file.

I slipped my cell and the papers in my purse and headed upstairs carrying a half cup of lukewarm coffee.

Wondering what I would do with a free day, I considered a massage; lord knows my body could use that, but instead, I decided on a manicure and perhaps a little shopping. After all, I'd need at least one or two new bathing suits for Cancun.

After doing the minimum with my hair and make-up, I selected a tight pair of jeans and a white tank top with a jean jacket for my casual day out. I considered a pair of red spike heels but decided on black pumps instead.

It was nearly eleven when I went downstairs, checked to ensure the front door was securely locked, and headed through the kitchen to the garage.

Slowly backing the Benz out of the garage and down the driveway, I was happy to see that Millie and Sue had finished their gossip session, and I could drive off without anyone knowing I was leaving. Even Chuck was nowhere to be seen.

As I headed toward the Fairlane Village Mall, my cell phone rang. It was Laura returning my call.

"Hiya Margaret,”  she said. After I said, "Hello."

"So you got served today?" she started.

"Yep, and I figured you'd want the papers as soon as possible,” I replied.

"That was fast. He must have had the papers drawn up ahead of time," Laura commented.

"Well, he does work in a law firm," I said.

Laura expanded on her comment, "It takes at least a week for legal papers to make it through the prothonotary's office and for the sheriff to serve. Perhaps Barry was planning on filing for divorce before you guys actually split."

"That bastard!" I exclaimed.

"Either way, we'll need to respond as quickly as possible, so can you drop the papers off at my office today? Laura asked.

"Sure can; how late will you be in?" I asked.

Laura paused, then said, "I have to leave in a couple of minutes for a deposition, which I suspect will take most of the afternoon. Can you make it about five this afternoon?" Laura suggested.

"Five is okay with me," I answered, knowing I'd have all afternoon to shop.

"See you then, Margaret,” Laura said before disconnecting from my cell.

Fairlane Village is a smaller upscale mall that I like shopping in because of the more pricy shops. There usually aren't the normal senior walkers and teenage window shoppers to contend with.

Barry always told me to park the Benz away from the crowd so it wouldn't be full of door dings, and since I was now responsible for maintaining the car, I took his advice for the first time.

Strolling through the empty part of the lot toward one of the less-used entrances, I felt the sun's rays warming my shoulder. I considered walking back and leaving my jacket in the car but decided I might need it to cover up my tight tank top while I moved from shop to shop. I didn't say the mall was completely void of men who would jump at a chance to hit on an attractive woman with big tits, and the last thing I wanted today was to be hit on.

I pulled the door open and stepped inside. The mall looked relatively empty, which was always a bonus when I was shopping. It felt relatively cool also, and I was glad I'd decided to keep the jacket, especially when I felt my nipples harden from the cooler temperature inside.

With my purse over my shoulder and my jacket closed enough to hide my erect nipples, I began down the mall window shopping as I walked. Being a smaller mall, it probably only takes twenty minutes to walk the entire length, even at a slower pace. What I was looking for was a shop that still had swimsuits to offer since the pool season ended weeks ago.

I only found one, and that shop was called Endless Summer. Crossing the walkway, I entered the shop, which was empty of customers and staff.

A soft ding dong from the back room must have signaled my entrance, and in a moment, a twenty-something brunette wearing jeans, an Endless Summer tee shirt, and sneakers came around the corner from the stock room. Her hair was mid-length and pulled back into a ponytail. She had pert little tits and was not wearing a bra, as her nipples stood out clearly under the cotton fabric of her tee.

"Hiya," she said as we walked closer together.

"How are you today?" I expected more than a curt hiya from a sales girl in this mall.

"I'm doing just fine,” she replied, then added, "Are you looking for anything special today?"

"I'm planning a little vacation and need a couple of suits,”  I replied.

She smiled and said, "Well, we have the best off-season selection, so let's see what we can find."

I followed her to one corner of the store where ladies' suits were hanging on several racks, looking like they hadn't been straightened up in days.

"One piece or two?" she asked as she stopped by the first rack and turned to face me.

"I'm not quite sure,” I said, figuring I'd look at both.

"We have a nice selection of one-piece suits specially designed for swimming right here,” she said, running her hand over a selection that took up half a rack.

I struck a sexy pose and let my jacket fall open a little, then said, "I'm not going to compete in the Olympics, hun; the closest I'll get to swimming is either dangling my feet in a pool or standing in the surf just where the waves stop."

"I see then we're looking at something more for tanning than swimming,” she suggested.

Duh, I thought but replied, "Now we're on the same page."

"Here are some very nice strapless one-piece suits," she said, backing up to the next rack.

This girl sells swimsuits, I thought. I opened my jacket a little more and gave my tits a shake trying to make her realize that a strapless suit wouldn't work for anyone with tits bigger than her champagne glass-sized tits.

I assume she got the message because she said, "We have a nice selection of suits with shoulder straps over here."

I followed her to a second row of racks, then suggested, "How about I just take a look at everything you have, and if I need help, I'll give you a shout."

"That'll be fine," she instantly replied. "How about I check back with you occasionally to see if you have any questions? Our fitting rooms are right over there," she added, pointing toward two doors with a fitting room sign above.

I smiled, knowing this young, tiny-breasted girl wouldn't be able to answer anything besides how much this costs, and replied, “Okay, that sounds good."

She turned and headed toward the back room, leaving me standing among seven or eight racks of suits.

I thought for a moment. Cancun, in early December, it won't be blazing hot, but the sun will still be quite intense so close to the equator. What I needed was something I could wear that would give me the best-looking tan for the holidays.

I moved over to the racks holding two-piece suits and began looking through what they offered.

Thinking about what I was actually going to Cancun for and knowing that more exposure was undoubtedly the norm there, I started looking for suits with as little fabric as possible.

Blonde hair, big tits and long legs. Perhaps a black thong bikini would do just fine. Something with only the thinnest of straps and smallest of triangles to cover what was required to be covered. I recalled that while nude sunbathing happens there a lot, it is still illegal to go naked on public beaches. Besides, I always felt keeping just a little to the imagination is a lot more seductive than just baring it all for everyone to see.

I found what looked like it might fit the bill, selected two sizes in my range, and headed to the fitting room to try them on.

"You found something?" the sales girl said from the opening to the stock room as I crossed in front on my way to the fitting room.

"Perhaps,” I replied.

Inside the rather spacious fitting room, the walls were all mirrors, except the one with the door, which had hooks beside to hang your street clothes on.

I stripped out of my clothing, including my panties, which I knew was against the rules of swimsuit purchases. I could never figure that one out. How the hell are you supposed to see how a suit will fit if you've got even the tiniest of panties on?

Slipping the thong bottom up my legs, I pulled it in place and used my thumbs to smooth the tiny black patch that was supposed to cover your loins. It left little but the shape of my pussy lips to the imagination. It reminded me of a thong you'd wear when you want to be able to pull it aside for quick access.

I slipped my heels back on and stretched the side straps high on my hips. With a huge smile on my lips, I thought. "If this doesn't show a client that I'm ready for sex at a moment's notice, nothing will."

The top was even more revealing. Two triangles of black flimsy material with spaghetti-thin ties. I tied the two together that went around your back and slipped it over my head. After tying the two that went around your neck, I tried my best to make the material cover my tits. They did little more than cover my nipples, not leaving the shape and size to one's imagination.

I stared at my reflection in the trio of mirrors. The shape and size of my tits weren't in question, and to be quite honest, the only thing in question was whether my nipples were a pink color or some darker shade.

This suit was so tiny that the price tag had to be tied to the hanger. I flipped it over and did a little calculation. It looked like it was about twenty-five dollars a square inch. I giggled, thinking at seventy-five dollars, you'd do better just painting a suit on your naked skin.

This was way too much-exposed flesh for me. Even in Cancun, wearing this suit would let everyone know that the only thing on my mind was hard cock. I didn't even try the larger size, knowing that the only difference would be more length in the thin straps.

I got dressed again sans the panties and returned to my search. Perhaps a less revealing black one-piece cut thong high on the hips, and a deep v-neckline to give ample opportunities to view my cleavage would better fit the bill.

"How'd it fit?" the sales girl asked as I crossed where she stood again.

I smiled and replied, "It fits fine, but it's a little small."

She smiled, understanding exactly what I meant.

Back at the racks, I started paying attention to the black suits since I liked the contrast between my blonde hair and the black fabric. I imagined blonde in black with ruby red lips, a combination I would learn to love as the weeks passed since my color change.

I picked out two one-piece suits that looked like they might fit the description I had in mind and headed back to the fitting room.

Pulling the first one on, I instantly realized it didn't have the high thong-cut sides I was looking for. It did fit very nicely around the chest showing enough cleavage to entice any man, but while it covered my ass nicely, I wanted something that made my legs look super long.

As I slipped it off, I thought perhaps I could wait until I got to Cancun and then go shopping for a new suit. I knew I'd pay premium dollars or pesos there and doubted if the type of clients we would be accompanying would want to waste time shopping, so I had to find something that fits the bill here.

The second suit had a kind of wet look to it. Some miracle fabric that gave you a just-out-of-the-pool look without the need to go in the water. As I stretched it up over my hips and then my shoulders, I liked how it rode high on my legs, exposing skin beyond where a usual suit would start to cover. The front had a deeper v than the first, allowing the entire length of my cleavage to be viewed. This suit was somewhere between the string thong bikini and the first one piece. I suppose I could live with having more tit exposed to gain the advantage of having more leg in view. I liked the way the wet look fabric covered my nipples and liked it even more after I pinched them to see how it looked with hard nipples.

This suit might just fit the bill. Revealing enough to entice a man but not so revealing to leave him with nothing to imagine. As I slipped my heels on and looked at my form in the mirror, I was sold. My legs looked super long. My tits showed enough, but not entirely, and the fabric was very sexy.

I looked at the price tag—a hundred dollars. Whatever happened to the end-of-season markdowns, I thought. Well, I was in a shop called Endless Summer, so I figured they have summer prices all year round.

I slipped out of the suit and got dressed quickly. Slipping my heels on, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I could see myself wearing this exact outfit in Cancun without the jacket, of course. My nipples were still hard, so I just carried the denim jacket along with the black suit.

"How'd we do?" the sales girl asked as I left the fitting room.

"I did just fine," I replied, holding the one out that I'd selected but unsure how she included herself in the process.

She smiled as she took the suit from me. "I have this exact suit in white also," she commented.

I wasn't sure I wanted to drop two bills on bathing suits I might only wear once.

"And I think I forgot to tell you that all our suits are fifty percent off until the first of the year," she remarked.

"I like the sound of that," I replied, realizing I could get both for the price of one.

"Let me check to see if we have your size in white,” she answered.

She thumbed through the white suits that I had ignored earlier and, in a moment, pulled one out. "Here ya go, the same suit in white,” she announced, hoping her sale would be doubled.

To increase her odds, she suggested, "You can wear these with jeans and look incredible."

I hadn't thought of that. I could wear the black one on the beach and then switch to the white one with jeans for a casual stroll with my client.

"Ya sold me," I replied.

"Great!" she said as she headed for the sales counter with both suits.

Before she rang them up, I confirmed they were the same size since I didn't try on the white one.

I paid the girl and thanked her for the white suggestion, then left carrying a tiny shopping bag.

Cancun called for open-toed sandals, so I spent the next hour shoe-shopping. I found a perfect pair of not-too-high a heel in white that looked awesome with the denim of my jeans resting on top.

I have a way of shopping like I suppose a lot of women do. They imagine the entire look when purchasing an item. I imagined the white wet-look suit with tight jeans and white sandals with red toes and fingernails and matching red lip gloss.

I giggled to myself. An American escort in red, white, and blue accompanying a high-level political guest of one of our nation's newest senators. A very patriotic look indeed.

I was proud of what I'd accomplished in one afternoon. The remainder of my Cancun wardrobe would be made up of things I'd purchased with Daddy's advance, so all I needed to do was wait to see which other two escorts would be going along and finalize the date. Daddy would arrange the travel accommodations.

With two bags in one hand and my jacket hooked on a finger hanging over my shoulder, I strolled the length of the mall toward the entrance at the far end, my tits bouncing with every step.

More than one pair of male eyes followed me intently, and as I approached the exit, a rather handsome middle-aged man smiled widely as I approached and said, "Well, hello, beautiful." As we passed each other.

I kept walking but turned my waist back toward him and replied, "Hello, handsome." With a broad smile on my lips and a more seductive swagger in my step.

I fully expected him to turn around and follow me into the lot, and I was somewhat relieved when he didn't. After all, I'd have had to dash his expectations because I had an appointment with my divorce attorney in forty-five minutes. He'd have the pleasure of fucking me in his mind for the rest of the night.

The air was cooler now than before, and by the time I reached the Benz parked so far away, I wanted to slip my jacket on. I tossed my purchases in the trunk and pulled the denim over my shoulders, covering up goosebumps and hard nipples.

Driving to Laura's office, I thought of the upcoming Cancun trip. I wondered what kind of high-level guests the senator was sending off to Cancun. Most likely, campaign contributors who were now reaping the benefit of helping pay his way into office.

Politics, I thought. Pay for my votes, and when elected, I'll pay for your pleasures. Well, at least I was now in a position where I could get my hands on some of that Washington pork belly cash. Politicians, in my mind, are little more than whores, except what they do is a little closer to legal than what I do. We're the same regarding business: you pay, and I please.

It was four-fifty when I parked outside Laura's office. The office was locked when I got there. I assumed her deposition ran long, so I waited in the hall. At five, after five, my cell phone rang.

"Hello," I said into the phone.

"Margaret, this is Laura. I'm going to be tied up here for a couple of hours, I suspect,” she apologized.

"No problem, I can come back tomorrow," I answered.

"Tell you what, slip the envelope under the door, and I'll read it later tonight. Let's get together tomorrow for lunch, and we'll lay out our game plan," she suggested.

"Works for me," I replied.

"Great, I'll call you mid-morning; we can decide where to have lunch," Laura said.

"Look forward to it," I answered, then added, "Hope you don't have too long a night."

"You have no idea," she said with an exasperated tone in her voice.

"Bye, Margaret," she said, then disconnected.

That's the second time she's hung up before I could say goodbye, I thought.

As I went outside to my car, I thought. Gee, if I had known Laura would be tied up, I could have enticed that handsome guy at the mall more. Then I realized my ass cheeks were still tattooed, and my throat was a little sore, not to mention my sphincter. It's best to give my body a rest for the night.

It was nearly dark when I pulled the Benz into the garage. I went inside and relaxed in the family room Barry often took while he read the paper or watched some sports show.

It was nice having the place to myself, no one to clean up after, no one to make excuses to about where I was going or how much I'd spent. Other than the fact that I had no one to talk to, I could get used to living alone again.

I switched on the television, and the news came on just as a reporter started an interview with Senator-Elect Johnston. The very same guy who a couple of nights ago had his fat cock in every possible hole I could provide was now talking about family values and how he was going to change things in Washington, DC. The very same guy who was about to pay to send his most significant contributors to Cancun for three days of sucking and fucking was now talking about fiscal responsibility.

"Fucking Pig!" I nearly screamed as I pointed the remote at the TV and turned him off.

I thought to myself. He's a bigger whore than any woman who spreads her legs for cash. He'll fuck you, and you won't even know it. Then, steal the money legally right from under your nose. In six years, I'd be voting for his opponent, that's for sure.

I went into the kitchen, heated some soup, and made my favorite sandwich, a ham and cheese on rye, for dinner. Sitting down with my meal, I opened my laptop to check if Daddy had an appointment for me tomorrow.

I had two emails from him. I opened the first to arrive, which had the subject line, "Next appointment."

Daddy wrote, "Angel, I've scheduled you for a lunch appointment tomorrow with a long-time client who noticed your photos on the website. He is very excited about meeting you for the first time. His name is Randall Dietrich; you can call him Randy. You are to meet him at the corner of Richland and Fifth Avenue at twelve-thirty tomorrow. Randy is a veteran of the Gulf War and was wounded in combat, so please don't act surprised when you meet him, as he is somewhat self-conscious about his wounds. He's asked for a four-hour appointment, but that is open to negotiation. Please don't forget to update your calendar before and after the appointment. If possible, I'd like to see you tomorrow at the normal location at eleven thirty to give you your pay envelope. Good luck. Daddy."

I closed the email and sat back in my chair. All kinds of possible wounds a soldier could suffer in combat ran through my mind. I was fairly certain that he didn't suffer a genial wound since that kind would make it senseless for him to take advantage of Elegant Escorts' service. I shrugged my shoulders and figured I'd find out soon enough. Randy was a cash customer, and like the others, I'd deal with his issues. It seemed like all of Daddy's regulars were trying out the new girl. I suspected that would be the case for the next few weeks, but it was a good thing because I was pretty sure my legal expenses would be reasonably steep as Laura and I started battling Barry's mega law firm. I'd have to reschedule my lunch meeting with Laura first thing in the morning since, in my case, it was pleasure before business.

I took a bite from my sandwich and clicked on the following email from Daddy, which contained "Cancun" in the subject line.

"Angel, I was happy to see you're willing to take on the Cancun appointment even though I assumed you'd be very interested. Our contact from the senator-elects office specifically said that if you were not one of the three girls included, the deal would be off. I can only assume you made quite an impression on the senator-elect during your recent appointment. The first two members of our staff I spoke with both quickly accepted the job, which isn't surprising since it includes a weekend in Cancun. You'll be joined by Jasmine and Tiffany. Please arrange travel in your real name with United Airlines for a week from tomorrow. Book first-class passage on a flight that will have you arrive at noon. You will be staying at the Royal Cancun for three nights, with a return flight at your convenience on Monday. Neither the senator-elect nor any of his staff will be involved. In fact, during the appointment, his name is never to be discussed. The clients are all high-level contributors to his campaign fund but choose to remain anonymous. Please remember that while casual is the norm in Cancun, these clients will expect the utmost elegance in both your attire and actions. You'll need to ensure your passport is up to date as it is required for travel to Mexico. You can communicate by reply once your travel arrangements have been finalized. Once again, thank you for your exceptional effort with the senator-elect. I've included something extra as a bonus for those efforts in your pay envelope I'll have for you tomorrow...Daddy."

I closed the email without replying. Unlike today, tomorrow would be very busy. I need to contact Laura and reschedule. I will meet Daddy for my pay envelope, then dash across town for my appointment with Randy, stop at Luxury Travel, and make a flight reservation, plus check to see if my passport is up to date. Even though I usually didn't bother with making lists in the past, I jotted down reminders of everything I needed to do and folded it before I slipped the reminder in my purse.

Finishing up my soup and sandwich, I decided to spend the rest of my day pampering myself. I poured myself a glass of wine, checked the doors, and turned off all but the light in the foyer, then headed upstairs to enjoy a relaxing soak.

There is something about a bubble bath that, for me, always makes my problems seem miniscule. I started to run warm water and added an extra amount of my favorite bubble and oil mixture. Candles at each corner of the oversized tub and soft jazz were always part of my routine when taking a soak.

While the tub filled, I kicked off my heels, turned the white tank top inside out as I pulled it over my head, and then slipped my jeans off, laying them on a chair in my bedroom with my tank top. I went into the bathroom and peeled my panties off, then turned to look over my shoulder at the condition of the tattoos Frankie had given me the day before. The soft skin had returned to its normal creamy white except a few tiny red spots where his big Italian hands had actually drawn blood, but I was fairly certain the soak would help make them unnoticeable to Randy tomorrow. When I ran my hands over my cheeks, I could still feel a little pain, no doubt the lingering effects of his spanking on the underlying muscles.

The tub was nearly full and had an inviting froth of bubbles floating on the surface. I turned off the light, stepped in, and slowly lowered my body into the warm, relaxing water.

Reaching down, I turned off the water, then leaned back, letting the froth of bubbles cover my entire body. "Ah," I said out loud as the warm water bubbles and bath oil soothed my flesh.

The candlelight soft jazz and a sip of wine had the same effect on my brain. I spent the next hour or so with no thoughts of past problems or future complications. I just relaxed and thoroughly enjoyed the "me time."

Once the water had cooled so that it was no longer soothing and the bubbles all but disappeared, I got up and stepped out of the tub. A big, soft bath towel removed the moisture but not the silky sheen of the bath oil. My skin was smooth and supple, and my butt cheeks felt much better. Blowing out the candles and flipping the lever to drain the tub, I headed to my bed with the remainder of my wine.

I pulled one corner of the oversized comforter and sat down on the edge of my bed. One final sip of wine before I snuggled under the covers and rested my head on the pillow. It took less time than expected for a restful sleep to capture me.