A Woman's Place Pt. 01

Author's Note: Nothing too sexual in this chapter. Just a quick intro for an idea to a series. Should it be continued? Let me know what you think.

"Hello, my fellow ladies. I'd like to thank each and every single one of you for coming out tonight."

Okay, maybe a bit too grand of something to say when there were only nine women there, the speaker included, but hopefully this is the start of something better.

"Now, I know what you're thinking, why have I asked for you to come here?" the speaker started. "Well, truth be told, you would consider all of us friends, right?"

"Of course," spoke up one of the women who had her light brown hair short and was very shapely.

"Yeah, no doubt," another, this one a very busty brunette added.

The dark brown haired, rosy skinned woman then clarified, "I don't mean friends as in, 'Oh, we're the housewives of the neighborhood. We like hanging out, drinking martinis and talking about shoes.' I mean, we're friends as in, we can honestly, truthfully talk to each other and not expect shame, right?"

"Anne, is everything okay?" a redhead asked the talker. "You sound a little...off?"

Anne, the woman who asked for the meeting of the neighborhood housewives, (And the MILF fantasies of every boy in the region) sighed as she sat in the circle of women, all of them now giving her a worrying look. Like previously stated, the women in here were all friends, meaning that in time of need, they were going to be there for each. No, this was not just the average housewife club. This was a sisterhood. This was a bond. This was a circle of a strong relationship, and it was a relationship that Anne Carson was about to use to her advantage.

"I'll admit, it is something that I am very nervous about bringing up because it could go over in the way I don't intend it to," Anne revealed to the group. But, to ease them, she flashed a smile and assured them, "But, don't worry. There's absolutely nothing wrong with me, physically nor mentally."

Physically, there wasn't anything wrong with her. She was a 5'9 woman who was slender and very fit. Her legs were long, her butt the shape of a bubble but still tight and firm. There wasn't an ounce of fat on her. Her skin was soft and smooth. The color of her eyes were like the sky with how blue they were and her lips were pink and pouty. Her neck length dark brown hair was straight and tucked behind her ears, her way of being formal yet not going overboard. That was further evident in her maroon sweater, black slacks and white flats that she wore to this meeting. She wouldn't look out of place on the cover of a magazine. Anne couldn't be better physically.

Now, considering what she was about to bring up, a case could be made about her mental wellbeing.

"Alright. Well, what's wrong?" a light, almost red skinned woman asked, who was also quite shapely.

"I'll tell you what's wrong, Maria," Anne grinned at her Latin friend. "I have a problem."

A problem? In this neighborhood? With her rich husband? With her Ivy League school bound twins? What problem could Anne possibly have?

"What is the problem?" a blonde woman questioned.

Right when she asked her question, a heavy pair of footsteps echoed in the room. The ones facing away from it turned around to see who it was while the ones facing the owner of the footsteps moved their heads a bit to get a clearer look. Anne didn't bother moving because she knew exactly who it was. The big busty woman from earlier, who was named Sarah, also didn't bulge an inch because she too was in on what was about to happen.

A glance at the person walking towards them would reveal itself to be the tall, lean figure of a middle aged man. His black hair was neat, his beard neatly trimmed and lined up and he wore a very nice, gray and black suit. The heel of his leather dress shoe clacked against the floor and as he approached them, it was clear who he was going to. He was walking towards Sarah, whose back was facing him.

Now, while Anne and Sarah were unphased by him being there, the other seven women were caught off guard and confused. Not only because when they were invited over, it was specifically stated to be women only, but because they couldn't quite figure out why Sarah's husband, Greg, was in Anne's home in the first place. There was a reason for it, a perfectly acceptable reason. Greg and Sarah were perfect for the demonstration he had in mind.

Standing behind his wife, towering over her from her seated position, Greg took his hands from the soft pockets of his nice pants. Reaching around her, the girls stared in shock as he stuck his big, strong, tanned hands into the red blouse of his big titted wife. They all sat in an awkward silence as they watched him slide his hand down her blouse, Sarah continued staring ahead and Anne focused on it intently.

Just when they thought it couldn't get any more strange, he grabbed one of her large breasts and pulled it out of her shirt. There it was, Sarah's pale, bare, K-cup boob out of her shirt and freely hanging. The seven women's eyes all widened as Anne observed intently. The process was then repeated with her other heavy boob as Greg slid back down into his wife's shirt and pulled it out as well.

Now that Sarah's huge, uncovered boobs were out for everyone to see, what was about to happen next? What was Greg about to do now?

They wouldn't have to wait long for their answer, but the answer they got only left their mouths on the floor. After pulling Sarah's breasts out of her shirt, exposing her humongous knockers to the rest of the women, Greg turned around, stuck his hands back in his pockets and walked right back out of the room. His shoes clicked on the floor, this time trailing away and getting quieter with every step as he exited through the doorway of Anne's large reading room. He shut the door behind him once he was out, but the silence remained as everyone shared a questionable and perplexing expression with each other. The woman with her chest out only focused on the organizer of this get together, and gave her a slight nod.

"That's what my problem is," Anne spoke up as she got her cue. The women turned their heads to her, their gasps stuck in their throats as they were waiting to hear the outrage from the tall woman that spoke for all of them. With a loud and passionate tone, yelling almost like she was speaking to the entire world and not eight, Anne declared, "There's not enough of that!"

The eyebrows of all the women raised as the amount of puzzlement in the room increased. Just what did Anne have rolled up her sleeve? Everyone was shocked, and all of them were waiting just to hear where this was going.

Anne then pointed out, "I know all of you are confused about what just happened, and some of you might be mad."

Though there wasn't a verbal response, some did twitch their neck a little and others widened their eyes to indicate that they were agreeing with the blue eyed woman about their bemused feelings. They were waiting on an explanation, and Anne was about to give them one.

Turning her attention to her best friend, Anne asked, "Sarah, did you have a problem with Mr. Mancini coming in and taking your breasts out of your shirt?"

"No," Sarah replied with a grin.

"And are you embarrassed or uncomfortable that your breasts are exposed to the eight other women here?" Anne questioned.

"Not at all," Sarah told her. She then raised an eyebrow a little seductively and mentioned, "Besides, I've seen some of you taking a peek at them before. And yes, for all of you wondering since I moved here, they are in fact natural."

A few faces turned red because they were wondering if they were one of the ones who she caught staring. They couldn't be blamed, Sarah's knockers were ridiculous. They were also some chuckles, as all the outrage in the room seemed to be slowly going away. Still, their eyes were trying to go everywhere except there because they just didn't want to stare her tits hanging out, as tempting as it was.

"And are any of you uncomfortable or upset with her breasts being out?" Anne queried. "Please, be honest and speak up. Do not hide any feelings here."

As they sat there for a little with their friend's boobs showing, they eased up a little and became more comfortable. They whispered amongst each other and let their feelings out into the open. While no one initially directly answered, after a bit of conversation, they seemed to share one mindset about it.

The short haired woman from earlier relayed, "Well, I think I speak for everyone when I say that it was definitely a surprise at first. But, after sitting around for a moment, it's not really a problem. We don't really have an issue with it."

"Thank you for being the voice to speak for the group, Julia," Anne smiled at the woman who expressed their overall thought. She then addressed the group entirely, "Would all of you say that's how you feel?"

"Yeah," some answered as the rest nodded to show their agreement.

Anne looked at the group and claimed, "So, no real reason to be mad. A husband who worked all day did something to his consenting, unashamed housewife in front of her unbothered friends. No one was hurt, no one was embarrassed and no one was forced to do anything or be a part of something they didn't want to. Frankly, I don't see any problems with it."

"Anne, just what is this about?" the redhead, green-eyed girl asked.

"I'm very glad you asked that, Casey," Anne grinned at the woman who just spoke like a politician speaking at a town hall. "This is about us not being ashamed of who we are."

"And what are we?" Casey questioned, crossing one of her slim, jean covered legs over the other.

"Oh, come on, let's not pretend and be shy about it. We can be honest with each other, there's no one else here. We all think it about ourselves so I don't know why we don't admit it to each other. We wait all day for our husbands to get home, ready to do whatever they tell us to do and ready to serve every last one of his needs to make sure he goes to bed pleased after providing for us everyday. I also know that we have our fantasies about each other's grown, adult sons and think about how we could've been their first walk in the adult life, if you know what I mean and please, don't pretend like you haven't. I've seen each one of you stare at my son and give him a smirk while thoughts went through your head and I'll be honest, I've definitely checked out yours. Something else I know we all have a tendency to do is imagining massaging the strong shoulders of a hardworking man in uniform or rubbing the back of a man at work and we even hope in our minds that it leads to something more exciting. There's nothing wrong with it; as females we are just naturally more nurturing, caring and providing of something like that. It's just who we are, women who want to provide for men who provide, and we shouldn't be ashamed of it," Anne burningly spoke. Everyone else listened with their mouths shut, taking a deep interest in what she was saying. While it's not something every woman would hear and be okay with, the ones in this room were not arguing with anything. That's when Anne finished her small speech with, "To answer your question, Casey, we are pleasers."

One of the women, a short, light brown haired, fair skinned and dark brown eyed woman a little on the curvy side, leaned further back into her cushioned seat, a little skeptical on whether or not she was about to go full in with her admission. Seeing a similarity, the woman called out, "Are you just calling us PG rated prostitutes?"

"No, I'm not calling us that, Janice. Let me put it this way, we are sexual pleasers of men who are providing a service to the world," Anne fixed her statement. She then elaborated, "I'm not saying we should do anything with any low-life who resides in their mom's basement and only joy in life is making mean comments on the internet and getting mad at computer games. No, we are women who still have standards, but our standards should be tossed aside when it's a supporting man who is in need of support."

Sarah, whose boobs hadn't been put back in her blouse yet, politely interjected with her soft voice, "If I may, Anne, I think what Janice is getting confused about is that she believes that by admitting to this, it would be a sign of not respecting ourselves. That's not the case. We still respect ourselves, and I am aware that might sound a little contradicting from a woman who literally has her tits out, but that's because my husband wanted them out. After a hard, long day of making deals and spending hours and hours on the phone negotiating and crunching numbers, if my boobs being out helps him feel better after a rough day, then so be it. Likewise, if Anne's husband were to come home and Anne was under the weather or unavailable for some reason, then he could welcomely come next door and suck on my tits and do whatever else he wanted. We still respect ourselves, we just respect working men more."

"Exactly," Anne smiled at the woman. "They are trying to make a means to an end for their livelihood. The least we can do as women is to satisfy their needs."

"Isn't that cheating though?" one of the other women asked. "I mean, just freely doing something with a guy because we have some fantasy to live out?"

"I'm not saying you have to have dinner with the guy and get to know all his likes and dislikes. Though, if a guy worked a nine-to-five and asked me to cook dinner for him afterwards, I personally wouldn't turn him down," Anne grinned. "And do not get me wrong, the needs of your husband, your provider, will always come first and foremost. But, as seen with Mr. Mancini earlier, who is aware of the topic of this meeting today, your husbands could be very supportive of it. The idea of his wife doing something with another man might get to him at first and he'll strongly oppose it. But when you talk about one of his buddies who hasn't gotten any action in a while because of their stuck up wife, then their tune changes pretty quickly. So, don't look at it through a cheating lens. Just think of it as helping someone in need."

"This whole, not just any guy thing. What do you mean specifically?" Maria questioned folding her arms.

Anne nodded and repeated, "As I said, working men. Men who provide. Men who are doing something to make a difference. Seeing a random jobless guy out and about does not mean you have to do what he says. Turn them away all you want and if they dare try to do anything to you to force you, then knee them in the groin or whatever it is you do to defend yourself. And freelance stuff and 'on my own cutting grass and washing cars' does not count to me either, though if you wanted to count it for yourself, then I won't prevent you from doing so.

"But anyone else who is legal and has a job? We should want to do something for them. And to further answer the question regarding the comparison to prostitution, prostitutes are paid money to try and make ends meet and have to do what they do for one reason or another. We wouldn't be forced to do anything and we wouldn't be paid because, and as I can already see by some of the intrigued faces, we would want to do it. Our payment would be pleasing a man who is working hard," she finished.

Sarah again jumped in, "And don't think there is a hierarchy system in place for who you pleasure. The twenty-something boy who stocks the shelves at the grocery store deserves to have you on the end of his cock just as much as the middle aged man who drives a luxury sports car."

"Thank you for bringing that up," Anne thanked. "Husbands first, but every other working man is second.

"Also, to clear any questions that may rise up, I know that obviously some women do need to work, whether it be because of women only jobs or because they have to provide for themselves, though in a shaped world we could make, that won't have to be the case. Nonetheless, a working woman is also expected to be pleased. So, after your maid has cleaned your home and she asks to have her clit licked, you will get on your knees and put your tongue inside of her because she earned and deserves it," the slender blonde added.

As crazy as her and Sarah's talking sounded, everyone in the room was actually getting on board with it. Yes, it is true that they had long dreamt of pleasing men...and sometimes even women in uniforms, but none of them ever had the courage to say it out loud. But, that's what stuck Anne out from the rest of them. She had the bravery to always speak her mind and say exactly what she thought. The best thing, however, is that if she set her mind on doing something, she was going to find a way to do it. She wasn't going to keep this from being a fantasy, she was going to make it a reality. Hell, she was going to make it a lifestyle.

Still, there was something that worried one of the members, and she couldn't help but speak up about it because it could have dire consequences. Casey explained, "I am very much in favor of this, do not get me wrong. I would love nothing more than for my life to be dedicated to pleasuring people who work hard and need the pleasure. But, and hear me out, nine women, meeting in the reading room of someone's house, plotting of doing favors secretly. Does that not sound a little...actually scratch that. Does that not sound very cult like to anyone else?"

Anne smirked at the woman, seeing where Casey was coming from but wished she could tell the girl that she was in for a very huge surprise. "Doing favors secretly? Who said it was going to be a secret? Oh no, I believe you are highly mistaken."

With that, Anne went into her purse that was on the ground and pulled out a long, shiny piece of paper. She slid her index finger on it and gently scratched at something. When her finger came back up, there was a green and white colored, sunflower shaped, glossy sticker that stuck between her finger and thumb. Standing up from her seat, she took two footsteps, putting herself right over Sarah. Leaning down, she put the sticker on the left side of Sarah's chest, right on her boob. Anne stood aside, facing Casey and presented the sticker to everyone with a huge smile on her face.

Now, with everyone looking at Sarah's chest directly, Casey stared with confusion. She sighed, "Your response to me saying this was cult like was to showcase a type of branding? I do not know if you really thought this through."

"It's not a branding, it's a symbol," Anne corrected. "It's the colors and the sign of what we are. It's what represents us. It's the first ever logo given out to anyone, placed right over the heart of Sarah. It will be worn proudly, it will be worn to let them know who we are, and it will be worn to let them know that they can come to us. It will not be a secret because with every platform we can get, we will explain it and make everyone know just what we stand for. It may only be nine of us now, but a band doesn't start with four great musicians. It starts with one person who plays an instrument who gets other people to jump on board. A movie isn't just the top liner, there's an entire cast with extras on screen with an entire crew behind the scenes. The point I'm making is there may only be a few of us now, but there will be many more of us. This is only the first sticker, but in due time, you will see this logo more and more, In a perfect world, you will not be able to go anywhere without seeing a woman with this logo somewhere on her."

"Logo?" Casey questioned. "Logo for what?"

"PASW, Pleasing And Satisfying Workers," Anne proudly revealed. "The newest political party in the United States of America."

Everyone sat up a bit hearing those words. Almost collectively they all gasped, "Political party?"

"Yes," the woman replied. "Now, nothing is actually official and no paperwork has been filled out yet, but this was just a sample poll. This is something I've been thinking about doing for a while and have thought about, but I wasn't sure how to bring it up and whether or not it'd get any support. I just decided to go for it and hope for the best. Since you're all still here, one of you obviously being in on it and the other fully just saying she was on board, I'm guessing that's at least seven more signatures PASW will be getting, in addition to Sarah, Mr. Mancini and myself."