A Work in Progress Ep. 06

Episode VI: A Raising of the Stakes

"I can't be the stripper for a bachelor party!" Rhonda cried. "I look like a drunken, newborn cow on ice skates when I try to dance!"

Greg began to vehemently disagree with her but before they spent too much time both talking at once, he managed to bring her attention to the fact that he hadn't booked her as their stripper.

"What?" she asked, after his words sunk in.

"Yeah, while I happen to enjoy how you dance, I didn't realistically think you could sell it as a exotic dancer, but I did book you as their high class hooker."

The room was silent as they only stared at each other for several beats. Rhonda sucked on her upper lip briefly before speaking again.

"And do I have any say in the matter?"

"You did say you would do anything I wanted," Greg replied, carefully, "buuuut..."

Another pregnant pause hung in the air behind his drawn out "but."

Frightened as she was by the idea, Rhonda was mostly just messing with him. She'd gotten noticeably wetter the moment he'd said "bachelor party." But this was a serious raising of the stakes so she wasn't going to let him off easy.

Being the only woman at a stag party was a fantasy she had diddled herself to on more than one occasion, even before their sex lives had taken its recent debaucherous turn, though she'd never admitted it to anyone, not even her husband. It was just a daydream she'd never imagined she would be in a position, or state of willingness, to do.

Was she reluctant? Definitely. Very, in fact. But the truth of the matter was, the idea had caused a little stream of vaginal fluid to start making its way down her left leg. It was just about to reach her ankle and she was going to have to get it with the washcloth soon before it got to her shoe, but that would probably give away her true feelings on the matter.

Rhonda knew that Greg had given her an out but also, within the context of their games he'd been giving her an excuse to override her inhibitions with all of the, "You promised you'd do whatever I want and I'm making you do this." talk. He was sparing her the responsibility for the trashy things she was doing and also letting on that she could refuse if she really wanted to.

She realized he had created a kind of sweet spot for her and she loved him deeply for it.

Just as he was drawing breath to continue, she spoke.

"Well, I guess if I really have to." she said casually, and she felt her lips stretch into a wicked grin against her will.

"Ha." Greg said, with more movie villain hand rubbing.

Rhonda retrieved her washcloth and set about drying her leg.

"Now what am I getting into here? How many guys are we talking about? And are they all like 20 years old or something?" she asked.

"No," he began, as he moved to retrieve the camcorder, "I don't think any of them are that young, it's a second wedding after all, but I don't really know for sure."

"Okay."

"Yeah, it wasn't really an RSVP kind of party but Phil tells me that it should be, ah, well, ten to twelve guys." he said, cautiously.

"Whoa." Rhonda croaked.

Her dirty little daydream was rapidly becoming more real all of the sudden.

"So who's Phil? Is he the best man?" she inquired.

"No, he's the uncle of the groom and the older one who did most of the talking. He seemed to be sort of the co-conspirator of the best man."

"Older huh? How old? Do you know?"

"Well, he's 63, in fact."

"Whoa." Rhonda said again. She pointed at Greg before continuing, "You do know that you are the oldest man I've ever had sex with, right?"

Greg, who was 37, answered, "Yeah, Phil said that he would probably just be spectating. Something about saving his Viagra for the missus."

Rhonda laughed and now it was hers that had the nervous edge.

"So what do we know about the groom?" she asked.

"Yeah, his name is William and he's 31 and this is his second marriage, and it's to a woman that all of his friends and family are sure is another mistake. He is the son of Phil's younger brother who passed some years ago. Phil sort of took over being a father figure to William but since he's not his actual father, they didn't feel like it was overly weird for him to be at the bachelor party."

"Wow." was all Rhonda said.

"Yeah. I know a lot more too. Phil is a bit of a talker."

"Sounds like. And still a bit weird, by the way."

"Agreed."

"So Greg, honestly, are you sure these guys are going to be cool with you handing over your, 35 year-old, out of shape wife, to be their entertainment? I mean speaking of weird." she asked, looking him in the eyes.

Greg snapped his fingers.

"That's right," he began, "I'm supposed to send Phil a pic of you before we finalize the deal."

"Deal?"

"Hold still."

Greg pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and began looking for the best angle of light before snapping some shots of her. Rhonda stood stock still. She wasn't being altogether uncooperative, but she wasn't making it easy either.

"Come on." he coaxed. "You can't give a little smile? Just think about the fact that you're about to make way more than enough money to cover our weekend trip."

"What?! We're really taking money for this?"

Greg, still taking photos, ignored her outburst.

"Ooh, that's not a smile but your angry face always did make you look powerful and sexy."

"Greg," she said, holding her hands up as if trying to stop traffic, "you do realize we're talking about an actual crime now. I mean, this isn't Nevada we're in. Before now it's only been adultery and sex with barely legal teenage boys. This is prostitution. That's on a whole nother level."

Her husband swiped through the shots he'd taken, selected one, and sent it.

"Greg, are you hearing me?"

"Relax, honey. These guys aren't cops or anything. And besides, high dollar girls, such as yourself," he said, while sweeping his upturned hand down the length of her body, "are probably working in this hotel all the time. Trust me. I bet there's one here somewhere right now. Er, I mean, another one."

"Oh my God!" was all she could say.

Before Greg could put his phone back in his pocket, it chimed. He looked at it and smiled.

"That was fast. The money's been sent." he stated, with an evil smile.

"Oh my God." Rhonda repeated.

This had instantly become very real.

"Aren't you going to ask me how much?"

Her head was spinning a bit.

She knew that she wanted to do the deed but maybe, she reasoned, if she could've done it for free, there wouldn't be a criminal aspect to it. And maybe that would also reduce some of the moral implications for her as well.

But who was she kidding, splitting hairs on morality at this point was farcical, she thought.

"Honestly, I'm not sure I want to know." she said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Seven thousand dollars."

"Holy shit!"

"I know." Greg continued, excitedly. "I wasn't even interested in the money but in the moment, I decided you being my wife was a little too cringey or something, so I told them that I was your 'Agent.'"

Greg finished his explanation with air quotes.

"Agent?" Rhonda repeated, furrowing her brow.

His phone chimed again and he pulled it out but didn't look at it as he went on with the story.

"Yeah, I figured high dollar, ladies of the evening probably didn't have 'pimps.'" air quotes again, "They probably have managers or handlers or something like that and, spur of the moment, the word, agent, just fell out of my mouth, but it felt right."

Oddly, it sounded right to Rhonda also, she realized.

Greg looked at his phone and laughed. She asked what was up.

"Oh, the previous text, Phil said that he showed your picture to Benjamin, he's the best man by the way, and he approved. This text from Phil says that we should hurry because the party's getting started and he showed your pic to a few other guys and he's afraid some of them are going to start humping his leg."

"Oh my God." Rhonda said, yet again.

Greg laughed and went on to explain a little more of the business transaction he'd struck with the men in the bar.

He'd introduced himself as an 'Agent' named Roman Gallagher and he had no idea why.

"Again, it just fell out of my mouth."

"I don't think you look like a guy named Roman." Rhonda observed, with her eyes squinted at him.

"Well tonight, I feel like one."

Greg told the men that he had a girl in the area whose client had canceled an overnight engagement and he was just about to see who was first on the waiting list when he overheard the party's tail of woe.

He'd informed the guys that the girl in question was not a dancer, per se, and was also not a 'girl' in the strictest sense of the term. She was a woman with experience who was 32.

This was only a mild fib; Rhonda could easily pass for 30 and they both knew it. He went on to explain that while she wasn't a stripper, she provided conversation and 'other entertainments.' He also advised them that she didn't usually do parties but he would talk with her about making an exception for some fine gentlemen who were in a bind.

Greg also explained to them that normally, when one of the girls he represented was attending a party, a discreet security man escorted her. Since Roman/Greg hadn't had this party on his books, he didn't have anyone available for the job so he would serve in that role himself. And finally, services were to be rendered for the length of two hours from whenever she arrived.

"Oh, and also," he continued, "I told them your name was Alexandra, but they could call you, Alex."

Rhonda looked at him quizzically.

"Well, you seemed so taken with the little guy at your last party, I figured you'd take notice if you heard the name called out. Basically I thought it would be easy for you to remember. Plus, they probably figure it isn't your real name anyway."

She considered her husband with a suspicious glare for a moment before responding.

"You Are becoming some kind of an evil genius, ya know?"

"Maybe." he conceded.

Greg's phone chimed again. He chuckled after reading the message.

"What now?" Rhonda asked.

"Oh, Phil says he showed your picture to a couple of the new arrivals and had a hard time getting his phone back. And he wants an ETA."

"New arrivals? How many guys are there?"

Greg poked at his phone for a few seconds and then while they waited for a reply, he told her that he had advised them that the party planners were responsible for condoms and lube but Greg made it clear to her that protection was optional as far as he was concerned.

He went on to say that he'd informed the men that Alexandra would offer to have sex with the groom first, and one on one. Then she would work her way down the groomsmen and after that, she would take whoever else was interested in groups of up to five.

Rhonda caught herself before saying, "Oh my God" again.

His phone chimed again and Greg checked it.

"He says there's eleven guys so far."

"Oh my God."

"Well." Greg said.

"Um, well." Rhonda replied.

Then she became briefly overwhelmed with nerves. She shook her hands loosely up and down as if they were wet and she was trying to air dry them.

"So." Greg said.

"So." she responded.

After she was done shaking out the anxiety, she took one last look at herself in the mirror. Perhaps not surprisingly, now that Rhonda was in reality a call girl, her outfit seemed perfectly appropriate.

"Alright, let's get this show on the road already." she said.

Once again, she made it all the way to the elevator without running into any members of the general public. She took extra care when she stepped into the empty lift. She had only packed two pairs of sexy shoes.

"So how did you arrive at seven thousand?" she asked, as the doors were closing.

"Ah well, rest assured, I have no idea how much a high class hooker charges these days but,"

"Oh yeah, I'm sure." she interrupted. "I don't really know what you and Max are doing when you're out of town."

Greg only scowled comically before continuing.

"Anyway, one of the guys asked how much I was losing on the canceled, overnight engagement and I said, "fifteen grand."

"Yikes!" Rhonda said, genuinely startled.

"I know. It was the first number that popped into my head and I thought if I hesitated, it would've seemed suspicious."

"What did they say?"

"They were all pretty shocked except for Phil. I think that old codger has been around the block some. Anyway,"

He stopped talking because the elevator dinged their arrival and the doors began opening. It was a good thing he'd clammed up as they found themselves face to face with a couple around their age.

The other pair stepped back to allow Greg, Rhonda and her jiggling, disco balls out into the hallway. As they were walking away, and before the doors closed on the other couple, they heard the woman say to her companion, "Oh, put your eyes back in your head." at a volume level that made it obvious she had wanted Rhonda to hear.

They shared a giggle over this before Greg finished his story.

"Anyway, I ended up telling them that a minimum engagement was two hours for five thousand, figuring an eight hour overnight got a quantity discount."

"A five grand discount? Seems generous." she interjected, with a wink.

"Hey, I was just pulling this stuff out of my ass. Besides, I was thinking that any friends and family willing to throw a bachelor party in this place, for a second marriage, had to be loaded."

Rhonda hummed her agreement.

"So finally, I told them that if they wanted to book a two hour party, that would run them ten G's and then I let ol' Phil talk me down to seven."

"Seven thousand dollars, huh? That's all I'm worth to you?" she asked, as she elbowed him.

"Oh my God! Come on baby, you know you're priceless to me." Greg replied, with mock defensiveness. "Now come on, we're here. Get your game face on."

"Awe, honey. You really need to work on your timing when it comes to romantic proclamations."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

The bachelor party suite was three floors above their own, in the same wing of the enormous hotel. As Greg reached up and began knocking on the door, Rhonda saw light glint off of his wedding ring.

She quickly removed her own and stowed it in a little clutch she was using to carry her phone since she had no pockets.

Roman the pimp wearing a wedding ring probably wouldn't seem that strange; Alexandra the hooker wearing one, most likely would be, she reasoned.

Then she noted the band of pale flesh that had been left behind so she transferred one of the big gaudy rings she'd been wearing on her right hand, over to cover it.

Shortly, a gray haired man, who had to be Phil, opened the door with a smile that defined the phrase, ear to ear. As he swung it fully open, he addressed the crowd within.

"Boys. The entertainment is here."

This was received with a small chorus of hoots and hollers. Rhonda's stomach dropped while she let Greg gently guide her into the room.

Mere minutes before, it had only been one of her most private fantasies, and now it was definitely real.