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Last Wives Club -- 7 -- A Favor Delivered

Our heroine whores herself out for her husband's career.
Favor needed: Disceet anonymous birthday present needed for ailing older husband. Send secret phone number to discuss details. Can offer influence at XYZ Pharmaceuticals or other suitable recompense.

Update: Birthday is fast approaching. Getting Desperate. Please respond.

I stared at the entry on the website for five full minutes, trying to make it say more. Trying to gain certainty about what it meant. I had received the link from an email message sent to my club email address. Mrs. Cardinal informed me that she had given me the privilege of viewing it, stating that it might offer a chance to influence my husband's career, as he worked for the named company. I was very tempted to call her or email her for more details, but I thought maybe this was a test. Maybe Kyra wanted me to show some initiative.

I was reluctant. It seemed like this could lead me into a dark, soul-eating emotion-space. I'd felt that often since joining the Last Wives Club, but I just kept going along with Kyra's suggestions, and I had nothing but positive results. I was a happier person and my children seemed to like the new me better. But I would be on my own with this. I remembered how exciting it was to go alone to the induction ceremony, uncertain whether Mrs. Cardinal would be there for me. I decided to take a chance. I entered my phone number and a box popped up requesting a time to call. I entered 4:30 PM.

I was sitting in my car in the parking garage at work at 4:25 waiting for the call and wondering whether I was crazy to be doing so. I knew the ad could only mean one thing, that I would be whoring myself out to enhance my husband's career. But if I tried to help his career directly, that would mean that someone other than my sponsor would know that his wife was whoring herself out. I thought of a devious way to remain completely anonymous just before the phone rang.


"Hello. I am Mrs. Cleveland. You're interested in my classified?" She sounded older than me and somewhat frail.

"Yes, Mrs. Cleveland, I am Mrs. White. Before we go on, can I ask if negatively influencing somebody's career is an option?"

"Yes, I can do that."

"Okay, how may I help you."

"I am sick, dying actually."

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that."

"Thank you, dear. I've had a good life. But I'm no longer able to be a good wife to my husband and he's in no shape to find a replacement. I want to provide him with a last good fuck before I go, but it would have to be through a proxy. I'm hoping that could be you. Nobody else has been willing to take the risk. You see, he's also very ill."

Whoa! This was not what I expected to hear. I did not want to be the woman responsible for fucking some guy to death. "I'm really not sure I would want to..."

"I assure you, it wouldn't bother him to 'go out with a bang', as he would say. His lungs are failing him. It's such a sad thing, because he was always so athletic. It's only a matter of time, but if you're careful, and if he doesn't exert himself too much, he should be fine. Please, this would mean so much to both of us."

She sounded so desperate. The thought crossed my mind that she may be trying to kill him. But that wouldn't make sense if she was dying anyway.

"Forgive me for asking this, Mrs. Cleveland. Are his affairs in order? Just in case."

"Astute question. Yes they are. Our children get everything."

"Okay, tell me more."

"First, tell me about yourself, nothing too personal, but start with experience level."

"I would honestly have to call that very low. Only two men and one of those is my husband."

"That is not a problem dear, it's actually a good thing. I'm not interested in sending him a jaded pro. What about your appearance."

"I'm 39. A soccer mom, but I work out at least 3 times per week. I'm five foot seven, 125 pounds, proportional, not as firm as I would like to be, but not flabby. I have blue eyes and blond hair, no tattoos, a few scars. I've had children and that's apparent, even without perfect vision."

"That all sounds perfect, dear. He wouldn't want a plastic doll. Are you shaved down below?"

"No, but I have no objection to that."

"It would add to his enjoyment. He also likes confident women. Do you have a nice trench coat."

"Sorry, no."

"Charge one to your card, dear. That's what it's for, and no sister should be without one. Many of us don't like those damn portable tents for this kind of thing, I'll send you a link to a store and they'll be expecting you. They'll also have a mask for you."

"A mask?"

"A costume ball mask. To conceal your identity. It's a time honored tradition."

She proceeded to explain the intracies of what she wanted me to do, and what to expect when I see him. Then she asked, "So there's somebody whose career you want to... impede?"

I told her the name of my husband's coworker, the woman who had fucked him and then rubbed it in my face. I thought that by hurting her career, I would be able to advance my husband's without specifically naming him. I admit it was also a petty attempt at revenge. She was silent for a moment, then she turned as cold as ice. Colder, if that's possible. As cold as ice in deep space, like the Mother Superior, the principal at my high school alma mater.

"I find it odd that you would seek to damage the career of a woman. That being said, we sometimes do that, but not for this woman. I simply can't."

My mind reeled with the implications of this. The coworker must be a sister and that would mean a sister had sex with my husband. What could that mean? Was it random chance or by design? And if by design, whose? Mrs. Cleveland's? Kyra's? I suddenly felt way out of my depth, like a guppy in a tank full of sharks. A path to safety suddenly opened in my mind.

"I see. I apologize, sister. I was not aware that she is one of us."

There was a long pause, then, "No apology needed... sister." Still as cold as ice. "Is there anyone else whose career you would like enhanced... or impeded?"

"I think that I should consult with my sponsor."

As if a switch had flipped, she suddenly sounded panicked. "Please, do so soon. My husband's birthday is next week and I will be in the hospital. Any delay could be bad. Perhaps we should go the engquway route."

I did not understand the word she used. Engquway? I did not want to reveal my ignorance. I had the feeling that Kyra had introduced me into this aspect of the club without proper preparation, but I wanted to forge ahead.

"Please, Mrs. Cleveland, don't get me wrong. I will take care of your husband. I only meant that I would consult my sponsor as to the best way to employ your influence."

Greatly relieved, she thanked me and we concluded our plans without another visit from the Mother Superior.

On the appointed evening, I checked into a hotel. I had called Margo and asked if she had a car other than the stretched limo. I told her the neighborhood that I would be visiting and she promised to secure a suitable sedan. I didn't feel that I would need an armed bodyguard. I just needed the comfort of having a woman accompany me. She was happy to let me sit in the front passenger seat and chat with me as she drove me to the large house and parked in the circular drive. I removed the mask from its box and Margo helped me fasten it securely.

I rang the doorbell and was about to ring it a second time when I heard a speaker pop and hum. The feeble voice of an older man said, "Yes? What is it?"

"I'm delivering a birthday gift from your wife, Sir."

Several small red dots around the door lit up. I recognized them as infrared illuminators. I could not see the camera, but I realized that I was now being viewed by a high end security system. My image would appear in grayscale on a monitor somewhere. I guessed that the camera was probably above me, so I looked up.

"Show me the package."

I took a step back and opened the twelve hundred dollar trenchcoat that Mrs. Cleveland had selected for me. It was gabardine with a silk lining that felt wonderful against bare skin. Underneath it I was wearing what she had told me to wear. Nothing to conceal 'the goods', tasteful jewelry, heels and stockings, and a smile, albeit a nervous one.

"I see no present there."

This was unexpected, but Mrs. C told me that he respected and appreciated confident women.

"Yes, Sir, you do see a gift. I can return it to your wife unopened, but it would be an honor to deliver it to a husband worthy of such consideration by his wife."

I heard a buzz and a click and then the door opened about an inch. A dimly lit foyer was behind it.

"Come to the room at the end of the hall."

Inside, I asked myself, 'What would a confident woman do now.' My hands were shaking as I removed the trenchcoat and hung it in a coat closet. It had served half of its purpose, concealing my nakedness from the hotel room to the foyer. It would be superfluous until I left the house. I steeled my nerves and walked as confidently as I could to the lighted doorway at the end of the hall. On the way, I passed photos and stopped to look at them. A handsome young couple wearing vintage 1970's clothing smiled out from one. The man was tall and athletic, reminding me of Dan.

I saw the same man, approximately thirty-five years older as I entered the room. He was lying in a hospital bed, wearing pajamas and looking expectantly toward the door. I smiled as I walked up beside the bed. I always had a weakness for men with an athletic build. Even in his condition, I could tell that he would have been 'my type'. But I had agreed to be a gift for him because he was now the exact opposite of my type. He was weak and helpless, unable to even assist in what would likely be his last act of sex.

"Happy Birthday, Sir."

"Thank you." His voice was a bit wheezy. "Please, call me John. I would have come to the front door for you. Not just to be civil, but to take your coat and follow you down the hall."

"Thank you, Sir... John." A compliment from John was somehow worth much more than a compliment from Benedict. I could not help but smile.

He smiled. "I have just recently visited the bathroom and have to rest for a bit."

"I understand, John. My name is Cate." Kyra's fairly recent references to me as Saint Cate and Sister Cate had given me the idea to use a pseudonym. Kyra was the only one who had ever called me Cate.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Cate. You are very beautiful."

"Thank you. Is there anything I can get for you to help you prepare."

"A warm wet washcloth from the bathroom, please."

I got the cloth and returned. When I saw that he planned to wash his cock with it, I offered to do that for him. I accepted the cloth from him and he was barely able to assist me in pulling down his pajama bottoms to his knees. His cock was the limpest I had ever seen. I began to carefully wash it, not that it was in any way unclean, but only because he wanted it freshly cleaned. It didn't respond to my touch. His hand came out of the bed toward my pussy.

"Please, Cate. May I touch it?"

I moved so he could reach my slit and he slipped a finger into it. I was already wet. The whole bizarre scene at the door assured that. His finger slid up across my clit and sent a shiver of pleasure through me. He brought his finger to his nose and sniffed it. His cock stirred. He sniffed his finger several more times and then licked it as his cock continued to grow. I crawled up onto the bed at his feet and took his cock into my mouth. I gently stroked the base with one hand as I swirled my tongue on the underside. John's breathing actually seemed to ease a bit. Perhaps the anxiety of wondering whether he would harden had passed.

His cock was big. Not as long, or as thick as Benedict's, and only about as long as my husband's, but thicker. There were really only two ways to do this and Mrs. Cleveland had told me that John was a breast man, so I chose cowgirl style. I straddled his hips and inserted his erect but only semi-hard cock into me. I rose up and down on him and felt it continue to stiffen. I had deliberately focused on those thigh and calf muscles in my workouts, and I was glad I had. He lifted his hands toward my breasts and said, "May I?"

I leaned over so he could more easily reach my breasts, placing my hands beside his shoulders. I honestly had not thought that I would much enjoy sex with him, but when his hands touched my nipples and when my clit got extra sensation because I was leaning forward, I changed my mind. I was staring into his eyes and seeing him as a younger man. It was an arousing image.

I started to make a little noise and this seemed to excite him even more. He began to move a little beneath me. After a few minutes, my legs began burning from the exertion, but I could tell he was now close, so I picked up the pace. He groaned and began thrusting into me. I could tell from the change in friction that he was coming in me. He could only manage a few thrusts, but it was enough. I came, shuddering on top of him, squeezing his cock.

I was briefly so wrapped up in my orgasm that I paid little attention to him. When I refocused my attention, I could see that he was in some distress, gasping and wheezing. He pointed to the green oxygen bottle beside the bed and I pulled the mask over to him. He made a twisting motion with his fingers and I recalled the scuba lesson that Kyra had talked me into taking with her during our sophomore year at school. I found the valve on top of the tank and turned it. A comforting hiss told me that the good stuff was flowing.

I looked him in the eyes and could see that he was now smiling as his breaths came easier. My legs were so cramped that I had some difficulty dismounting from him, but when I managed to stand and get the wobble out of my legs, he was able to talk. He pulled the mask from his face and said, "Thank you, Cate. That was wonderful, especially because your pleasure sounded very genuine."

"It was. I can assure that I'm no actress."

"Nonsense, dear. You were terrified when you hung your coat, but you walked in here as regally as a princess. I watched on the monitor." He pointed to a screen beside the bed that had a keypad beneath it.

"Okay, you caught me there. I was terrified. But I was completely honest in my enjoyment. I was quite pleasantly surprised. When your hands said hello to the girls here, they agreed that I should have some fun."

I rinsed out the washcloth and wiped my pussy with it. Then I rinsed it again and brought it back to clean his cock. I helped him into his pajamas and then tucked his blanket around him just as if he was one of my children. I asked if there was anything he needed before I left and when he said that he was quite satisfied, I kissed him on the forehead, wished him Happy Birthday again, and left the room.

When I got to my coat, I withdrew the cell phone from it and texted Mrs. C. 'Birthday gift delivered and appreciated. Mr. C is resting comfortably. He sounds better than when I arrived.' I pulled on my coat and stepped out onto the porch, pulling the door shut tight behind me. I turned and saw that the infrared lights were on, so I briefly opened my coat and gave him one last look at my body. Then I blew him a kiss, closed my coat and left. The red lights dimmed.

That night in the hotel room, I contemplated my future. I had just actually whored myself out for the second time. It was so different from the first, and so much more emotionally rewarding than sex with my husband, that I masturbated to orgasm while I relived it. I wasn't sure whether I had been manipulated into it, or to what extent, but I decided that I would do it again if given the right opportunity.

The next day, I returned to the ritzy part of town and charged a thousand dollar dress to my card. I was only fifteen minutes down the road when I got a call on the secret cell phone. Of course, it was Kyra.

"Mrs. White. You bought a very expensive dress."

"Well hello, Mrs. Cardinal. Yes, I did and I must say, I look absolutely fabulous in it. The store clerk agreed with me. She said that it really complemented my eyes. I also bought a trenchcoat, a mask, a room, and a chauffeured car."

"The other expenses were... expected. This isn't like you, Cath. I'm not refusing the expense. I just want to know what's up?"

"Well, if I'm going to join the high class call girls union, I just thought I might need a uniform upgrade."

"What are you talking about?"

"Tell me the truth. You've been manipulating me, haven't you, Mrs. Cardinal?"

"Well, duh! That's what we do. We manipulate. We have goals and we work toward them. Have I done something that's upset you?"

"That's just it, Ky. I don't know what you've done. I know what somebody has done and I don't know why. I know what I've just done and I'm not sure what to expect."

"You're not making sense, Cath."

"Well, I've been through a lot in the past few months and I'm not sure that all of it made sense. I'm sure you're aware of what I did last night. I know that I was guided into doing it. What I didn't expect to learn was that a sister tripped my husband and hit the ground beneath him, without my permission. And then she rubbed my face in it. I know that even if you tell me you weren't involved in that part of it, at least one of our sisters was involved in every part of it. Maybe, I said I would tolerate infidelity, but Dan's committed, so I don't see why a sister would risk messing that up."

"I don't know what to say, Cath. For what it's worth, I don't know anything about this other sister. I can so some digging, or whatever you want. If you're that disillusioned, you can get out. This isn't the mafia. We won't extort your cooperation."

"You misunderstand me, Kyra. I don't want out, and it's not worth it to waste our resources on digging into it. I'm ready to do what we do, even if that's nothing more than what I did last night. I only want two things for now; one, I want you to know that my eyes are open, and two, I want you to know that I really want this dress."

"Cath, forgive me. I think I've underestimated you again. You're saying you're taking one for the team?"

"Yep. For the price of this dress."

"You're not angling for something for your career or Dan's?"

"Nope. I figure those things will come when they come."

"Wow! I honestly didn't think you would ever come this far, Cath. We have a deal. I hope to see you in the that dress some day."

"Oh, one more thing, Ky."


"The name's not Cath. It's Cate."

She chuckled. "I'm pleased to meet you, Cate."


I didn't want to tell my best friend that I didn't entirely trust her. In a few short months I had gone from devoted wife to conniving player in a secret society whose morals are foreign to my upbringing. I was surprised when Kyra called to schedule a meeting with me just a few weeks after my night with Mr. C. She was breezing into town on business and could only squeeze a lunch date in with me, but I had no trouble accommodating her.

After we both had salads in an upscale restaurant that I never would have known existed, she handed me a laptop case, while congratulating me for so completely astonishing her with my adaptability. I opened it to find a blank white credit card, a laptop and a tablet.

She asked me to surrender my blue card, so I dug it out of my purse. Then she told me that websites bookmarked on the laptop and tablet would let me in to some club databases, once I completed my profile. She told me that I could now use my profile to change my secret name from Mrs. White to something else, although she encouraged me to keep it related to color, because that was a rough indicator of when I was recruited. I thought it was appropriate to indicate my French heritage. So I told her that now I would be Mrs. Cate Blanc.

With a sly grin, she also said that one of the websites was for ordering a dildo like the one she had shared with me. I only had to choose the options that I wanted and supply three measurements, the length and circumference of the cock I wanted and the distance between the centers of my anus and vagina. She encouraged me to order one soon, winked and said she had to get going. She stiffed me for the check, but I happily charged it to my new card.

When I got the required spare time and privacy, I delved into the online privileges I was now trusted with. What I learned was amazing. The first thing that caught my eye was that I had an initial balance of $20,000 in something called my 'NQA' account. I called up the FAQ and learned that NQA meant 'no questions asked'. I could spend that money on whatever I wanted!

Then it struck me. When Mrs. Cleveland said 'engquway', she was really saying 'N-Q-A'. She was offering to pay me money to fuck her husband! She had offered it casually, so I deduced that at least some of the sisters were offering NQA funds for 'gifts' for their husbands. The old me would have been offended, but the new me thought it was an ingeniously simple way to keep our husbands happy and filter the pool of women they were meeting.

I could also scroll through something that looked like a craigslist of favors that were wanted, offered, or suggested by sisters. Many were similar to the ad I had answered for Mrs. Cleveland, but it wasn't all about sexual favors. There were all kinds of requests. But the sexual favors were fascinating. Most specified anonymous and most of those specified burqa, but some specified mask and trenchcoat. Apparently, many sisters also wanted to gift sex acts that they weren't comfortable with doing. Some offered as much as a thousand dollars for some sister to have anal sex with their husband.

I noticed something particularly interesting to me, older women were often looking for someone to spend time with their husband. Many of those ads were weeks or months old. It appeared that I could have my pick of them. I decided that, at least temporarily, I had found my niche. I would be Saint Cate, bringing solace to the older men on behalf of the older sisters.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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