Ann: The Married Years Ch. 56

She'd brushed her teeth, and done her makeup, going for the intoxicating mix between sultry and slutty. She was still naked, save for her black stilettos. She didn't know what her first client of the night might want her to wear, so she went basic, so to speak.

She heard the door to the suite open and close, footsteps echoing through the place from the tiled foyer. It was showtime. Picking up her joint, she took a long hit. When she finally exhaled, she began slowly making her way toward the man that would be her pimp. At least, she assumed that's who it had to be.

"Andre, is that you?" she called out sweetly.

"Yes, baby."

She froze, her smirk flashing quickly. It wasn't Neil, whom she'd anticipated, but she recognized the voice. Heather had indeed described him perfectly. He was most definitely charming. Smart, educated, well read and a lover of many kinds of music. He could hold his own in almost any conversation. He was one of the funniest people she'd ever met. Sharp and sometimes biting; quick witted. A sexy combination of confidence and sarcasm, not to mention being self-deprecating. His humor was a window into his heart, which was pure and genuine.

He was ridiculously gorgeous. She loved his cheekbones, and the way she melted a little whenever he'd smile in her direction. He was very big, at about 6'4", with broad shoulders and a chiseled waist. He was strong and athletic, built like an NFL linebacker. The muscles in his thighs and ass were so defined it made her pussy tingle, thinking of the power he could generate if he fucked her... even though that was something she'd never do. A girl could still fantasize, and she had on many occasions. Heather's description of his body being that of a Greek God was somewhat accurate. It would have been perfect, but she'd left out the part about him being black.

And their friend Alphonso was most definitely black.

He was married to Martina, who worked at Neil's plant. She was a hot, redheaded bombshell, with piercing blue eyes. She was employed as the company nurse. She was also one of the charter members of the Super Bowl sluts; the first to shed clothes at the inaugural party.

If Neil was looking for a type, given the circumstances, Martina would have been the perfect person for him to call upon to play a masseuse, right down to the hair color and pale complexion. She would have certainly had the skill set for it, her knowledge of the human body being a huge advantage. That spoke to Ann. Janet had to have been the real thing, which meant the possibility that people outside their group might actually be a part. She might really be a prostitute by the end of the weekend. The prospect of that had her dripping.

Still, Ann worried about the casting of Alphonso for the briefest of moments. Playing the role of a pimp as a black man played into too many negative stereotypes for her comfort, frankly. It seemed like they might be using his ethnicity at the expense of some naughty fun, and that didn't sit well with her. Yet Alphonso had obviously signed up for it. He wouldn't have done that if he thought for a second that he was being used or taken advantage of.

She also didn't know what Neil truly had in mind for her, at least as far as who might show up. If she really ended up interacting... or more to the point, having actual sex with strangers, it would make sense that Neil would turn to him. Her lines regarding what she would do sexually were established, and they were well known amongst their group of friends. And Alphonso had become a dear friend. He was someone Neil trusted. If he wasn't going to be there himself, who better than him to protect his wife in the environment he was putting her in.

It did surprise Ann that Heather had so graphically and accurately described Alphonso's magnificent cock. He was hung like a horse. It really was as thick as a woman's wrist, and it was close to a forearms length. It was massive, with thick veins and a huge set of balls feeding it copious amounts of delicious, white hot cum. Ann wondered how she could have known that. To her knowledge, they'd never been together. While Heather knew Martina, and had been in sexual situations together, Alphonso had not been a part of them. Was it an educated guess, based again on stereotypes? Was she told, or did she somehow have firsthand knowledge Ann wasn't aware of?

It didn't matter. None of it did. He was there, and that was the first reality Ann had to accept. Instead of being disappointed that Neil wasn't there, she embraced the incredible man that was.

Stepping into the living area, she stopped, looking at him. He was wearing a tight t-shirt that accentuated his arms and chest, and a pair of very tight gym shorts that exposed his mammoth package.

"God, he's fucking sexy," she moaned inside as she looked him up and down.

He did them same to her, watching as she took an erotic toke on the joint pinched between her fingers. "Hey, baby. You ready for this?"

"I will be once I finish this. Do you want a couple of hits? I brought plenty," she said as she held it out.

Neil had forewarned him about their newfound love of smoking marijuana. Especially Ann, who lived for the euphoric response it gave her when she'd climax. He'd told him that given the circumstances of what he was going to make her do, and she believed in her heart he was undoubtedly making her, pulling the strings from afar, that she'd be blazing up often to heighten the experience.

Because of that, Alphonso wasn't shocked like he might have been. But he also wasn't going to do anything that might effect his own reactions. "No thanks, baby. You know better than that. I can't very well protect you if I need to if I'm buzzed."

She winked, appreciative of his candor. And if Neil did have strangers in mind, it actually made great sense. Still, she teased, "Suit yourself. I keep telling you how much better sex can be when you're high."

His response was quick. "I don't know how much better it can be with what you already do to me, babygirl. And that's just with your pretty mouth. I can only dream what that sweet pussy must be like."

She'd moved closer, her body nearly pressing up against his. She was looking into his dark, expressive eyes when he'd said that. She knew in her heart his comment was directed at her, not a character. She felt the sincerity in his gaze. She actually trembled a bit from his admission. That and the fact he'd called her 'babygirl' had her practically creaming. There was something about the way he said it that hit her sexually. It turned her the fuck on.

"I... I'm your babygirl?" she asked, batting her thick lashes quickly as if in disbelief.

Brushing her cheek with the back of his fingers, he smiled. "You always have been, Rachel. There's a reason you're my favorite. Do you honestly think I let any of my other girls tell me they won't fuck guys? They don't have a choice. It's bad for business."

"Why do you let me?" she asked, wondering why she had as soon as the question left her lips.

He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Finally he replied, "Honestly, because you're special. I think you'd do this for me for free."

"I probably would, as long as you take care of me. But I'm glad I don't have to," she giggled.

"It's also because you bring in more money with what you're willing to do than the others do offering more. You know as well as I do that not many of my girls like being with women. And the ones that do aren't good at it. In case you didn't know, women will pay more for sex, especially with you, because it's something they can't get as easily at home. They're living a fantasy out with you, babygirl. With men, it's always about the sex. Ten minutes after they cum, they're in their car and their minds are elsewhere. You provided a sexual release, and it cleared their head as much as you emptied their balls. When women leave you, they're still thinking about you days if not weeks later. Most won't ever forget you. That experience for them is priceless, which is why they pay more handsomely for it. They want a memory that they can call upon whenever they need it."

While Alphonso was obviously making that up off the cuff, there was a great deal of truth to what he'd said. There was a huge difference between how men and women looked at the transaction of sexual relations. For men, it was purely a physical thing, and it was relatively brief. Yes, they might need it again soon. After all, they were male animals, driven off of primitive instinct to breed, and breed often. The experience for women was beyond just the physical. It was the emotional connection they were longing for. And apparently willing to pay for in the narrative Alphonso spun.

Ann leaned into Alphonso, pressing her bare breasts into his chest. Draping her arms over his shoulders, she rubbed the back of his neck.

"Thank you for respecting my boundaries, 'Dre. I know you didn't have to."

He loved that she'd actually given him a shortened nickname. It fit, as it offered them both something to call each other besides the character they were playing. It created the illusion of closeness, even between what should have been a pimp and his whore. Yet the very way they were holding each other spoke to both the fantasy and the reality of their relationship. Alphonso was squeezing Ann's fleshy ass, pawing at it. Pulling her cheeks wide. She felt her pussy and ass opening, exposing her charms, even though no one would see.

He let go, his big right palm going to the top of her head. He pushed down, and she didn't have to be told. It made sense. She'd have to take care of him before she'd service anyone else. Dropping to get knees, she took the last hit on the blunt. It was at the end anyway. Licking her forefinger and thumb, coating them with a generous amount of saliva, she pinched the burning embers of the joint, extinguishing it and dropping it on the floor next to her.

She lowered his shorts to his feet, making him step out of them to give her more freedom. His cock had sprung up, already three-quarters hard, and it was rising to full staff by the second. Stroking the length slowly, she looked up at him, a loving smile on her face.

"How much time do I have, 'Dre?"

"About ten minutes," he said with a check of his watch.

"Barely enough," she playfully whined. "Make sure you give me more tomorrow, please."

"You can take your time tonight. You start and end with me, remember?"

"Mmm... you love reclaiming your babygirl, don't you," she winked.

"You know it. Now get busy, cunt. You have bills to pay."

She loved that he'd flipped the script, calling her a cunt as she got ready to take his cock into her mouth. It was perfect to get her mind right; to put her in a headspace that was about allowing herself to be used. What they'd shared to that point had been almost loving, and those feelings were still there. But she needed to disassociate herself from them. Her job was to be a whore, and there was nothing loving or tender about that.

With her psyche shifting, she went into subservient mode. She lowered her head further, wedging it between his spread thighs, searching with her tongue. She continued to stroke his shaft, while she tilted her neck. He moaned as she reamed his asshole, digging deep. Pre-cum leaked heavily from his head, coating her hand. She used it as lube as she continued to lick.

Next she took his big nuts in her mouth, one at a time, going back and forth between them. Her strokes became faster, until she knew he was ready. Taking the huge head past her lips, she swallowed half his thickness, then more on her second drop over his length. Each time she rammed forward she took more and more, until her nose was pressed against his abdomen. She pulled all the way off, sucking on the index and middle finger of her right hand quickly, acting like she was trying to get a pubic hair out of her. Then she deep throated him again. Her left hand went to his balls, kneading them gently as she bobbed up and down, only going back a couple of inches on each stroke.

When she sensed he was getting close, she let her fingertips trace against his back door. He froze, but didn't blanch. He didn't protest with she threatened invasion by putting pressure there. Deciding it worth the risk, she slid her middle finger inside to the root, then quickly added the index. She fucked his ass with her left hand, squeezing his balls with the other, while ramming her face over his cock as fast as she could. He didn't stand a chance.

"AAAAAHHHHHGGGGGGG!" he growled as he came in her mouth. She'd moved back, wanting to taste his load. It filled her mouth, and she had to swallow some because of the amount. He wasn't quite her husband, but Alphonso tended to cum a lot more than most men.

She held the rest of his load, showing it to him before swallowing. Removing her fingers, she stood, leaving him there on wobbly legs.

"I'm going to clean up. Am I putting anything on for my first guest?"

"No," he groaned, trying to regain his bearings. "He wants you naked."

"Okay," she giggled.

"You're going to pay for that later tonight, cunt."

"I'm counting on it." She returned a short time later, a coat of red lipstick now applied. "Hey 'Dre?"

"Yeah," he grinned, putting on his shorts."

"I meant what I just said."

"What's that?"

"I'm counting on you holding me accountable for what I just did. And for what I do this weekend if I displease you with my performance in any way."

"Are you serious?"

He knew the stare he gave her was from Ann, and not Rachel. If he read it right, and he knew he did, there was a glimpse of Annabelle in her eyes. But if there were any doubt, she walked over near him, planting her left foot on the arm of a chair. Slowly taking off her heel, she toyed with him, rubbing the bottom of her foot while making sure he saw her one if her new tattoos; specifically the script 'Annabelle' amongst tropical flowers along the top and side by her ankle. "I'm very serious 'Dre. Very."

Slipping the heel back on, she batted her eyes again. "Message received."

"Good. Do you think Heather has had any luck?"

"I can't speak to the entire night. She's still working on your schedule. But you're booked until dinner arrives at ten. The waiter is supposed to bring whatever she set up for the balance of the night then."

"May I ask how many I have the first five hours?"

"You can ask, but I'm not going to tell you," he said, walking toward the bedroom.

"I figured. Where are you going?"

"To set up the video cameras. There's already one set up in the closet that will capture the foot of the bed. You'll need to leave the door open a sliver like I have it. I'm setting up the other tri-pod up behind the bunched up curtain by the window. It'll capture the profile from the side. Keep the ceiling lights that shine down on the bed at all times, and don't close the curtains. That keep the cameras hidden. You're not allowed to touch them. That's for me to do. I'll change the tapes out at dinner."

"Are... are you sure about this?"

"It's another way to protect you, babygirl. I'm leaving nothing to chance. You have to trust me. I'll have the remote controls. I'll be able to zoom the one in the closet. I've hidden the wires... I was in here while you were swimming. I'll be able to see what's going on on that TV," he said, pointing to the large one in the living area. "I'll keep the sound off, since I'll be able to hear you... the bedroom door stays partially open. And the TV itself will be off until everyone is in the bedroom."

"Everyone?"

"I'm not spilling too many details, but you have at least one threesome the first part of your night."

Ann swallowed hard. It all just got very real very fast. Alphonso made quick work of the camera set up. He had the remotes to both cameras, testing them from the living area to make sure he could turn them off and on. He didn't want to waste tape when there was no action.

She got a knot in her stomach as the clock approached five. She was more nervous than excited, wondering if she could really go through with it. She still was unsure if the people arriving would be familiar friends, or was this going to be real. Or would it be both?

The soft knock on the door alerted them both that the night was about to begin.

"What do I do?" she asked.

"What? You've done this before," he chuckled, not giving her an out.

She had one of her own at the ready, however. "Not in a place like this. Not with someone picking out my clients for me. I bring them to the room, and then we're in bed. You're never in the room with me. How are we doing this, Andre?"

"Good points. I'll make this one easy. It's a guy, paying for a blowjob. $150 for a half-hour's work. He didn't want you to dress up. It costs more."

"A hundred and fifty dollars... for a fucking blowjob? Are you kidding?" she snickered, her hand covering her face in disbelief.

"There's a hundred dollar cover charge for everyone that comes into the room. After that, they pay for what they want. I'm giving you fifteen minutes per visit to get yourself prepared. He'll get fifteen minutes after you're ready."

"Only fifteen?"

"Well, he's paying for an hour, but this is about throughput. It ain't gonna take you that long to get him off, and he's only paying for one orgasm. If he wanted to cum twice, it would cost him another fifty. But you're not dragging out his orgasm just because he paid for an hour, even though I know you could."

"Is it going to be that way with everybody?"

"No, babygirl. Just the men that aren't willing to pay. This guy obviously is on the cheap. He had a whole list of options, and he checked off one. Blowjob. It would have cost him twenty bucks to have you dress up for him. Most people will get the full time. I'll let you know beforehand."

There was another knock, and Ann didn't want to keep asking questions. She asked just one more. "Okay... so I go into bedroom and wait fifteen minutes for everyone. Do I just come out then?"

"I'll tell you before they show up from now on so you know what you're doing... and wearing. You can look at the menu and see right there what they want and how much they're spending. You're going to eventually need that fifteen minutes to get ready, I guarantee it, even if it's just to clear your head a bit. Trust me, this is going to get intense. When that time up, come out and I'll introduce you. I'll have them hand you the money. Keep it in the drawer by the bed. We'll settle up at the end of each night... I have to pay Heather her cut out of mine. But remember, the first $800 of what's yours goes to pay for the room and your food this weekend. Understand?"

There was a third knock, and Ann was worried they might leave. "I

understand, 'Dre. Answer the door. If I have any other questions, all ask them before the next client."

Ann headed to the bedroom, while he made his way to the door. She could hear him apologizing. She closed the door so she could gather her thoughts. He was right. That little break between clients would become very important to her as the night wore on. Thankfully she was feeling the full effects of the pot she'd smoked. That, and she already had the taste of fresh sperm on her tongue.

"I can do this!" she affirmed.

Fifteen minutes later she sauntered sexily through the door, much like she had down her own hallway when she'd gotten up that morning. She was in a remarkably different mood. While she'd been melancholic, somewhat dreading the weekend because of the awful shift change that was looming on her horizon, she couldn't wait to embrace it now, thanks to her husband and the elaborate plans he'd come up with to light the sexual fire inside her.

Heeding Heather's advice, she'd found a way to calm her nerves. It was important to have control over them so she wouldn't react to whomever was waiting for her.