Ann: The Married Years Ch. 43

"And you don't think he's really going to be mad or upset when this is all done?"

"I think he's smart enough to know the difference. How about you give him a little credit? If he told Felicia you needed to call and you do... then doing anything different will be a letdown. I think he'd be more upset by that."

"You're right, Mary Ann. I really appreciate you being here for me."

"That's what a good Madam of the House does."

"You're a great one," she said, kissing her friend on the cheek. "Henrietta would be very proud of you."

Mary Ann smiled warmly. "I'd like to think so."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ann waited nervously in the back of the van. It wasn't because she was naked, or that she was in the parking lot of the bank where she used to work. It had more to do with the unknown, worrying about how Neil was really going to react when he showed up. The momentary pause that had taken place in the game they were playing had put her on edge.

She replayed the conversation in her head; the call she made to him after she got off the phone with Felicia, and then calmed down by talking to Mary Ann. She wasn't sure she believed Felicia when she said Neil was turned on by what they were doing. Then again, she had no compelling reason to doubt her.

The conversation with Neil had been brief, picking up where they had left off. He answered the phone, excited to hear her voice. That was evident to her when she answered his first question. He inquired why she'd hung up on him.

Being on the spot, she answered honestly. "I'm fucking around on my husband. I wasn't sure I could continue doing it. After all, it's a woman's prerogative to change her mind."

"And yet you called back."

"Because I want what you can give me."

"And what would that be?"

"An orgasm."

"Your husband can't do that?"

"I'm not going to discuss my relationship with my husband. This is about sex, plain and simple. Either you want to fuck, or you don't. It's not a debate. It's not a question and answer session. There's a reason you don't have my number. There's a reason I don't know your name. I don't want to. This is anonymous, and I'm in control. Understand?"

"But I know where you work."

"And I have a gun."

"Oooo... kay."

"Look, this is getting too complicated. I want what I want, and I can get it from you, or I can wait for the next cute, interesting guy that hits on me. No offense, but I'm guessing that will be in the next half-hour. Like I told you the last time I called, with where I work and how I dress, I get propositioned all the time. I've just decided recently to start acting on it."

He thought there was probably some truth to the fact that Ann had been hit on numerous times working at Henrietta's House. She did dress very provocatively whenever she was there, and the house was built on a foundation of sexual satisfaction. Knowing she would never act on any of those advances in real life, he smiled that she was using this as a way for them to play together much like Billie had with Alfred. Trying to confirm her mindset, he said, "So, he fucked around on you, did he?"

"One more comment about my personal life and I'm hanging up. Last chance... are you interested in what I can give you, or not?"

"And what can you give me?"

"The best piece of ass you'll ever have in your life. And since you've already fucked me twice, you know I'm not lying. What do you say stud... interested?"

"Very."

"Good. Then here's the deal going forward. If I need you, I'll call you. Wednesday's only. There's no contacting me. If you come into my store, I will ignore you and have someone else assist you. If you make a habit of coming in, I'll have you banned. With what we do there and the way we dress, you wouldn't be the first, and no one will question me."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"I don't want to know anything about you. Not your name, not your age, not where you live or what you do for a living. I don't want to hear you talk about your life, because you're not going to hear about mine. If you haven't figured it out by now, I don't care about you. This is a straight, anonymous sex transaction. You're nothing but a phone number and a cock to me. I'm nothing but a phone call and a piece of ass to you. There's no foreplay before, and no cuddling afterward. You show up, we fuck, and you leave... period."

"I can live with that."

"Good. When we're done, you're getting in your car and leaving as soon as you zip up, which means you're never getting undressed. If you're still in the parking lot when I get dressed, I will shoot out all of your tires."

"Why the hell would you do that?"

"I'm not taking any chances that you're going to follow me. And I know what you drive. If I ever catch you doing that... well, let's hope you're as smart as I think you are. One last thing; this has already wasted too much of my time. When I call, I'm not in the mood for debate. I will give you the time and the place. When the clock in my van says you should be there, you'll have ten minutes. If you're not there by then, or if you ever turn me down when I call, I'm done with you and I'll move on to someone else more reliable. Understood?"

"Yes.

"I'll be in the bank parking lot at the corner of Main and First Street in thirty minutes."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was five minutes past the time she'd told him to be there, and she was beginning to wonder where he was. Sitting in the seat in the far back of the van, she was able to peer out the front window. She'd parked in a space, backing in against a wall. There was no car in the spot to her right by the unlocked sliding door. The car to the left belonged to her nemesis Bernice; the woman she would have been working for had she not taken the job at Henrietta's House... the woman that always questioned how she dressed.

"I wonder if Bernice would think this is appropriate work attire," she mused, toying lightly with her clit as she sat wearing just her heels.

It was a passing thought, something to keep her mind occupied until her stud got there. And that's how she was trying to think of him, much like their friend Tina had all those times she and Neil hooked up. Tina used Neil for his body... specifically his thick, beautiful cock. She was now doing the same thing in a way. It wasn't a fantasy. It was just a plot device to use for what had been her real goal all along; finding a way to use the new van to fuck her husband.

There was a bit of a thrill to think of doing it where she used to work, although she'd only been there a brief time. They still banked there though, and she still had a couple of friends inside. But no one would know her van. The idea of fucking there as cars would move through the parking lot on the way to the drive-thru teller lanes turned her on. At least it had when she first thought of it. Now she was anxious, because she didn't know if it would feel the same since she'd second-guessed the entire premise.

Her worries disappeared when the door opened. She'd seen his car pull in just under the wire, and he hurriedly got out so he wouldn't be late. The lustful glare in his eyes had her catching her breath. He spied her in the back with her legs spread lewdly, and he reached for his zipper, extracting his throbbing prick. It looked dangerous; the dark purplish head shiny with pre-cum; the thick veins along the shaft feeding it life. It was obvious he was into what they were doing, and she cursed herself for ever thinking he'd look at it as something sinister or ill-conceived.

In seconds she was on her knees, his cock thrusting into her yearning pussy. He pawed at her swaying breasts, using them, and her. And she was doing the same, using him for the relief she suddenly needed. All the pent-up frustration of what she'd put herself through was coming out. The same could be said for him, the angst over how she'd been worried bubbling over, ready to spill onto the grey carpeting of the van.

She looked out, eyeing the window of the drive through where she used to work, knowing that someone was there in the chair she used to occupy. It might have even been Bernice, who'd been demoted soon after she gave notice, the vice-president of the bank displeased that he'd lost such an outstanding employee to another business... in this case the one owned by his wife, Mary Ann.

Ann wanted Bernice to see her at that moment, wishing the windows of the van weren't tinted. Wishing she were bold enough to be outside the van, letting her lover take her while out in the open. She wanted Bernice to see her, to be envious of what she was doing and the gorgeous hunk of a man she was doing it with. She wanted to be on display, and show her how dressing with desire in your heart could lead to unimaginable pleasure.

They were all petty thoughts, generated by the way she'd been treated. On one level, it frightened her how she'd carried a grudge all that time over a person she barely knew. But she couldn't get past the idea of being judged the way she had been. It was one of her biggest peeves. She'd ended friendships because of it. Fucking next to her car was the closest she could come to showing that she'd been right. She was happy in her new job. But she was also happy in her marriage, delighted to be with a man that indulged not only how she dressed for work, but how she acted as well. Even when she thought that she might have hurt him dearly just an hour before.

He wasn't hurt. He was hot, his balls aching to release his building load. The sweat-soaked shirt clung to his lower back; his thighs constricted by the way the material of his shorts bunched up. Shortening his thrusts, he tried to pound harder, wanting desperately to cum.

She didn't speak, merely changing her focus from what was going on outside the comfort of the van to what they were doing in the back. Gazing over her shoulder, she licked her lips seductively before closing her eyes, the rapture of the orgasm she'd been chasing finally enveloping her.

Her back arched as he lurched forward, the two cumming simultaneously. It was something they hadn't done in months, and yet they somehow found a way while playing forbidden lovers having a quickie in a bank parking lot. Actually, it wasn't even that. They weren't lovers. Neil was simply a fuck. A nameless stranger she picked up in a former whore house, of all places. It could have just as easily been in a bar on a Saturday night. She'd done that countless times in her years in California before she met Neil. Only this guy was fucking the shit out of her, and she actually got off.

He pulled out after making his deposit, some cum plopping onto the carpet beneath her. Not bothering to say goodbye, he did as he'd been told, zipping up and leaving without even looking back. He was gone moments later, his car revving up as he threw it into reverse.

Ann fell onto her side, curling up into a ball, and she began to sob.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She'd gotten it out of her system; the overwhelming need to release all of the poisonous thoughts that had crept into her head had come over her all at once. It was a classic case of a woman in need of a good cry. And she did, bawling uncontrollably for some twenty minutes before finally starting to calm. When she finally gained her faculties, she wiped away her tears, only then noticing the large dollop of cum on the carpet.

Thankful that the treatment of the fibers kept it from seeping in, she gathered it on her fingers, bringing it to her nose, inhaling deeply, becoming lost.

"I love that smell," she whimpered with a soft smile, taking in the musky scent; a small shiver of excitement rolling through her body as she thought of where it came from. Her pussy was still wet, and now sticky, part of the load he'd left behind now trailing down to her ass. She licked her fingers clean, moaning from the lewdness of that act.

She always loved the taste and texture of sperm, and how it left a lingering reminder on her tongue of how she got it. Neil's was especially appetizing, more sweet than salty, almost like a delicacy to her. Licking her fingers, she thought of the hundreds of times she'd swallowed or eaten his gift.

The idea of how much he could shoot brought a smile. "I wonder just how many gallons I've swallowed since I met him," she laughed, the idea making her feel even sluttier than she already did.

She began to get dressed; putting on the short spandex skirt and the tight button top she'd worn to work. Both were a forest green, hugging her shapely frame, accentuating every womanly slope and feminine curve. She'd gone without a bra that day, using the snugness of the blouse to pull her breasts up and in, creating an impressive cleavage; even more so that she left it unbuttoned to the middle of her bosom. And it seemed she rarely if ever wore panties to work, or anywhere else, for that matter.

Reapplying her makeup using the mirror on the sun visor, she got rid of the signs of how much she'd cried. Her mood had changed, the cum leaking from her pussy reminding her just how much she loved her husband, and how willing he was to accommodate her sexy whims of adventure. Running a brush through her hair, she was satisfied she looked her sluttiest. She was ready to tackle the rest of her day.

Checking her watch, she knew she had enough time to make it. She hopped out of the van, grabbing the tan handbag she'd brought that day, loving how well it matched her open-toed high heeled sandals and the belt she'd worn. Strutting across the parking lot, her stride was confident; her chest thrust out as she made her way around the corner. Entering the bank just before five, she went to the island, filling out a deposit slip for her paycheck. She smiled as she looked at the amount, Mary Ann having paid her a bonus for teaching the most recent class... the one on anal sex.

Her boss didn't believe in commission because it pitted her employees against each other. Much like her Great Grandmother, she was a big believer in profit sharing, which was something they'd done even when the house was one of ill repute. But Mary Ann also rewarded those who came up with ideas, or who went above and beyond to help the store. Ann was only a part-time employee, and that being extremely part-time at a little over eight hours a week, it said something that she always brought home a four-hundred-dollar paycheck every two weeks. This one was almost a thousand.

It spoke about how Mary Ann felt about Ann that she not only allowed her to work just one day a week, but that she paid her so handsomely for it. Then again, Ann's efforts and her creative mind had done more for the store than she could have possibly dreamed when she talked her into leaving the bank to come work for her.

That was on Ann's mind when she walked toward the counter, making sure she stood in line where Bernice was currently working. The check in her hand was for more than she'd ever made while working for her. To get paid more for two days work versus two weeks as a teller was a bit mind-blowing. It also said Henrietta's on the paycheck, and there was something perversely exciting about what that represented, even years after the house had transformed from a brothel to a lingerie store.

"I bet the girls that worked for Henrietta made a lot more than a teller back then too," she smiled as she moved up one spot in line.

When she finally got to the front, she slid the check and deposit slip across the counter, setting her expensive purse on top of it.

"Good afternoon, Bernice," she said politely.

Bernice's response was chilly but professional, the brevity of her words expected. "Hello Ann."

Forcing the conversation, she leaned forward, the buttons of her blouse nearly popping from the way her breasts pressed against it; her cleavage spilling fully into view. "You know... can you re-do that deposit slip, Bernice? That check is more than big enough to cover the new van payment... I could use a hundred dollars in cash please."

Bernice found herself filling out a second deposit slip, which made her verify the check a second time. Finding the silence awkward, particularly with the way Ann was smiling at her, she felt compelled to say something.

"So you're back to working full-time again, I see."

"No. Just one day a week... sometimes a Saturday, but that's once a month."

"One day? Do they pay you every two months?" she quipped.

"Two weeks, just like here."

Bernice looked at the check again, the professionalism she tried to show before going out the window. "You're kidding. This is for two days?"

"Well, there is a bonus in there for a class I teach once a month. But I get paid pretty well for what I do."

"What is it you do, exactly?"

"I sell myself, Bernice," she teased.

"You do what?"

"I sell sex. You know; lingerie, and sexy clothes... the occasional bedroom toy. We have some things you'd look great in. You should stop by sometime. I could show you what it's like to dress like a woman," she winked.

A flash of anger rose. "I beg your pardon."

Her impish smile came easily, happy inside that she'd gotten under her skin so quickly. "You don't have to beg. I'm happy to help. But you can if you want."

"Yeah, well, you wouldn't know what it's like...." Bernice shut down, biting her tongue. She even glanced at the security camera nearby, before resuming her duties, mumbling to herself as she counted out the cash.

Ann saw the change in her demeanor. She even noticed the quick shifting of her eyes toward the surveillance system. She knew it was there, having worked on the other side of the counter, but she'd never ever given it any thought. After all, it was just a camera... there weren't any microphones.

She saw something else behind Bernice's eyes as she counted the bills in front of her, making sure the final tally matched what was requested. Ann softened her stance, thinking something was definitely different. Either she'd misread Bernice all along, or something had changed, but her gift of discernment was going off like a tornado warning, telling her that she needed to reach out.

Patting the back of her hand as she slid over the bills, she got Bernice's attention. "I'm not trying to upset you, Bernice. I just think of how beautiful you are, and yet you're always hiding it by dressing like a man all the time. It's one thing to dress in a business suit every once in a while... if you do it right, it can be really attractive. But it's a shame you feel like you have to dress that way to get ahead in your profession. Frankly, I think you're doing yourself a disservice. But that's just my opinion."

"It's easy for you, Ann. You don't have...." She paused, taking a deep breath. "Anyway, I wouldn't know where to start."

"Start by coming by my shop. I work Wednesday's," she smiled, pulling a card from her purse. "Call ahead and I'll make sure I'm free."

Bernice actually took the card, looking at it carefully. "What's this... it says you're a Co-Manager, and a... Lifestyle Consultant? What's a Lifestyle Consultant?"

"I told you, I teach a class once a month."

"You teach a class? On what?"

Tucking the cash into her purse, she picked it up, turning to leave. She stopped abruptly when she'd taken a few steps, her tits swaying underneath her blouse as she offered a better view of how she was dressed; and more importantly, how she was standing. The sexual confidence she was exuding had as much to do with her attitude as it did from the trail of cum leaking from her pussy.

"Sex."

"You teach a class... on sex?"

"Yes. I teach classes for women and couples on how to have better sexual experiences. And here's your free lesson; you can't be sexy unless you feel sexy. And if you don't feel sexy, the sex that results will reflect it. You should try it sometime. Nice seeing you, Bernice. Have a nice evening."