Ann: The Married Years Ch. 57

© 2022, All rights reserved -- mimaster

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Ann was swimming laps, the majority of her morning workout already completed. She was in the outside pool of the Sheraton again, the temperature even warmer than the day before. It was going to reach an unseasonable 77 degrees later that afternoon, the normal temperature for that time of year somewhere in the low 60s. She was in heaven.

She'd woken up in a daze, not remembering where she was. It took a bit to gather her faculties, the knock on the door that announced room service startling her. The young woman let herself in and left the tray on the table near the window of the living room, excusing herself quickly. Ann could smell the strong coffee calling out to her from the bedroom. Against her better judgment she got out of the comfortable, yet well-used bed.

"I smell like sex," she moaned happily as she popped a couple of aspirin. Eating the light breakfast fare, she tried to process everything that happened the night before. It was a bit of a blur, and she wasn't sure it all hadn't been some kind of perverted sexual dream. Eyeing her clutch, she recalled setting it on the table, right after she'd settled with Alphonso, who'd been acting as her pimp in the roleplaying fantasy Neil had created for her.

At least that's what she thought. Rifling through the small purse, she pulled out a wad of cash. Unable to resist, she countered her portion of what she'd earned.

"Jesus... that's really four hundred dollars!" she exclaimed as she counted the bills again.

Stuffing the cash back into her purse, she did the reverse math; the night all coming back to her in a rush. She owed the hotel for the room and the food; a total of $200 a night for four nights stay in a plush hotel suite on a busy spring weekend. All the meals were being brought to her, either to her room, or poolside. And she had a masseuse coming to her room every day. Considering all of that, the price per night seemed like a bargain.

Alphonso insisted that she cover all her expenses as soon as she could, leaving everything she made during the balance of her weekend as profit. Well, not exactly everything. Half of everything. Handing him the cash for the hotel meant her take for the night was actually twelve hundred dollars. And with her being made to pay for the organizational skills and on site protection of her pimp, to the tune of fifty percent of everything she made, that meant she was with eight different people over nine hours, and grossed twenty-four hundred.

"God, I'm an actual fucking whore," she giggled.

That wasn't the only payment she made to Alphonso, though. Yes, he walked out of the room with twelve hundred in cash in his pocket, $240 of which would go to Heather as the event coordinator for the weekend. But there was the matter of another debt Ann owed.

Her morning workout had gone smoothly, at least until she got on the stationary bike. Her rear end was sore, having been spanked for fingering his ass when she sucked him off the first time. He gave her fifty swats with his strong bare hand, going back and forth between her tight cheeks. She took most of it, but began crying heavily toward the end. He ignored her emotional response, making her suck him again immediately after he stopped to remind her who she belonged to.

She had only herself to blame. She'd literally begged him to hold her accountable during the weekend. She wanted the experience to be as authentic as possible, and it seemed logical that a man that had numerous women in his fold might have to physically discipline them from time to time in order to keep them in line. At least that's how she envisioned how her relationship with Andre should be. And it was perfect.

Standing a bit sideways, she looked over her shoulder into one of the full length mirrors of the gym. She'd just finished riding the bike, and she was rubbing her behind, checking for marks. Her skin still stung to the touch, but thankfully the redness was gone. Plus, she rarely bruised from a spanking or a paddling. It would take a whip, crop or switch to inflict that kind of damage. She smirked, thinking of the raised welts and reddish-purple bruising that lasted for a little over a week after her last stay in the dungeon.

"I love that feeling," she sighed, still thankful that she didn't have them at the moment. It would ruin the image of the person she had become for the weekend adventure she was on.

Moving to do her pull ups, she focused past the pain of her ass, looking to continue creating the burn she craved from a good workout. She was in a groove, her body going up and down effortlessly as she crossed her ankles. She could feel the muscles firing in her back and shoulders, and it brought a smile. But her morning routine was interrupted by another visitor to the gym. The older man that shared an elevator with her the day before. Ann had flirted with him, but didn't pursue. She'd let the encounter die when she reached her floor, heeding the instructions she'd received regarding her weekend as Rachel, the prostitute. She could interact with the guests of the hotel. Even flirt. But she wasn't to entice one to come to her room.

She understood the reasoning. It was too dangerous. Neil was orchestrating her fun from behind the scenes. Going out on her own to continue to perpetuate the ruse was too risky. The entire purpose of Alphonso being involved was to ensure she was safe if someone outside of their circle of friends was literally solicited to participate. Besides, she'd had sex with eight people the first night. There was no reason to believe that couldn't happen again later that evening, or Sunday as well. With Neil in charge, she knew she wouldn't be lacking in sexual partners.

Yet to the man now leering at her, she seemed available. He was intrigued, almost enamored. She could feel his eyes on her. Once again she was barely dressed, the yellow bikini hiding nothing. She was basically naked from behind, from where he was watching her.

She moved to a weight machine and began doing a strenuous set of thigh crunches. Pressing against the plate her feet were lodged against, the weights loaded onto the pulley system lifted up on the other side. It was the final part of her workout, concentrating on her lower body. Her admirer moved clumsily to a machine next to her, trying desperately to appear suave, but coming off as awkward. She smiled at him politely but said nothing. She kept concentrating on her breathing, yet she couldn't help but notice what incredible shape he was in. It was clear to her that he'd actually come to the gym to work out, and simply stumbled upon her being there. He put in real effort to look that way.

He was likely a little past fifty. His tan was authentic, not from simply lying in a booth during the winter, and she surmised he was likely from much further south. His salt and pepper hair was neatly trimmed, as was his stylish goatee. His tight workout shirt showed off some impressive definition, his chest and shoulders large and bulging as he did some curls. He was flexing his thighs at the same time, for no apparent reason other than to try and prove they existed. He was showing off, and she found that cute. She also noticed his shorts when she casually glanced in his direction; they did little to conceal what appeared to be a very nice bulge.

Yet Ann focused in on his finger, a wedding band shining in the florescent lighting. While that was a turn off from a personal standpoint, knowing what Neil had gone through, she was tasked with pretending to be working in a profession that thrived on that kind of man. It was a paradox, because she knew if she were to have someone show up in her room that was literally paying her for sex, she'd need to overlook such a transgression. And since she was deep into her character, she decided to acknowledge, yet ignore. Not that it mattered. She wasn't to pursue while in public.

That didn't mean he would back off though. Emboldened by their previous exchange in the elevator, he tried to pick up where she'd left off.

"You're really fit," he noted quietly, trying to strike up a conversation.

"So are you, handsome," she replied, offering a playful wink.

His ears perked up, and he pushed ahead. "I mean you really are. I've never seen a woman that could handle that much weight on a leg press."

"Huh... I didn't even check how much it was set on. I figured it was the same as yesterday."

"Really? You didn't check?"

"No. It's been my experience that not many people actually use gyms in hotels. I'm almost always alone whenever I work out in one."

"You act like you spend a lot of time in hotels."

"More than most people, I suppose."

"Really? What do you do?"

She looked at him, a slow shake of her head letting him know she wasn't going to be too forthcoming about her personal life. "Let's just say I'm in the entertainment industry and leave it at that."

"I'm sorry, I'm prying... "

She smirked. "No. Your trying to get me to tell you my name."

"Sorry. I'm Pete. Pete Haggerty."

"I'm gay."

"Gay... what?"

"Ha! Not my name. My orientation. Nice try though."

"Huh?"

"I'm a lesbian. I'm pretty sure I told you yesterday I'm not into guys."

"Funny. All I remember was you saying I'm cute."

"You are. Doesn't change things."

"But, didn't you say something about... going down?"

"Men. Flash them your tits, and they think they're seconds away from dipping their wicks in the candle wax."

"Why did you?"

"Why did I what? Flash you?"

"Yeah. I'm confused. You just did that to tease me?"

"I threw you a bone. You could already see them anyway. Pretty sure you could make out my pussy too with my bikini being that wet from swimming. I figured I'd give you something to go home and tell your wife about," she shrugged. Pete looked at his ring, toying with it. He started to say something, but checked himself. Ann smirked. "I'm glad you didn't try come up with some lame excuse for the ring, like you're recently widowed or something."

"No. I'm married. Happily, I suppose."

"Hmm... there's a ringing endorsement for holy matrimony," she said sarcastically.

"My relationship with Karen is, unusual."

"What's that mean? Estranged? Open? Strained? Arranged? Platonic?"

"Kinky."

"Care to explain?"

"I'm going to go with no, like you and your job. Let's just say she wouldn't be shocked that I was flirting with you."

"Would she approve?"

"More like she insists."

"That is unusual."

"Uh, kinky. I said kinky."

"How so?"

"The humiliation, I suppose. You know, I've said too much. I'm sorry I interrupted your workout."

"No worries. I'm almost done, anyway. I... I don't mean to press. It is none of my business, but, you're humiliated by flirting with me?"

"No. That would come later this evening, if it were to happen."

"I'm not following. If what would happen?"

"You... and me."

"I already told you, I'm a lesbian."

"Yeah, that fact would only make her happier. I'd probably never hear the end of it."

"Wow. This conversation is like a road trip without a map."

"It's my life. I'm sorry I've taken up so much of your time."

"It's fine. I'll give you credit though. Room 315. Very subtle."

"What?"

"Leaving your room key in plain view. That's a nice touch. Just so you know, most women... even gay ones, are more comfortable fucking in their own bed, including hotels."

"Hmm, even at fifty-two I'm still learning something new every day."

Ann sat up and turned on the bench, staring at him. Slowly spreading her thighs, she reached down, pulling the material of her thong to the side. His eyes bugged out as she exposed her pussy, and the gold diamond ring adorning her labia. Just as quickly she covered up and stood, reaching for her bag.

"Why did you do that?"

"I'm not sure. Somehow I felt you needed it. Hope it helps with whatever you're going through with the wife."

"Ha! Yeah. Maybe. We'll see when my trip is done."

"It's the best I can offer. I wish you well, Pete Haggerty."

"You too... Annabelle."

He'd obviously seen her tattoo. She let him have that, wanting to give him something to hang the memory of her on. It would be more believable when he told his buddies if she had a name to go with her provocative actions.

"Hell, he'll tell them we had sex," she smiled wickedly as she walked out of the room. "Men always embellish stories that are too good to be true."

Climbing out of the pool a little over a half-hour later, she'd forgotten that encounter. Her body was burning from the strenuous swim, and she needed water and nourishment. Her mind was on lunch, and she knew it was on the way. She reached behind her head as she walked, gathering her wet hair in her hands, ringing out the water like she was squeezing a washcloth. Her breasts were bouncing as she walked, her nearly naked body on display. If only someone were watching.

She settled in, taking a long drink of her cold bottled water. Noticing the waitress approaching, she got up and moved a small table closer to the lounger, bending over in sexy fashion in the process. She got the reaction she had been hoping for earlier, playing to the exhibitionist inside her naughty brain. It was as if she'd flashed her bare ass to her, the tiny string of her bikini having disappeared between her tight cheeks.

Nothing came of the exchange. She didn't expect it to. Her goal had been to be objectified, and she'd succeeded. Part of her couldn't wait to go through the lobby later, knowing it would be much busier than the day before, and her attire would be just as transparent as it was at that moment.

She was lost in thought as she ate, living out the highlights of her previous day in the order they'd played out, when she noticed movement to her left. Glancing up into the sun, she couldn't make out who was there, her fear being it might be Pete returning to make another run at her. It wasn't, yet while she couldn't see that well, she certainly recognized the voice.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Please. I'd love the company," she replied, motioning to the empty lounger next to her on the left.

Monique moved in front, pausing as she passed by to remove her sarong type wrap. Underneath she was wearing a bikini equally daring to Ann's, hers a very pale blue. It brought out the brilliance of her deep blue eyes. Ann was certain that the bikini would be see through as well if it got wet. Moving past, Monique did the same move Ann had, bending seductively to put down her towel, confirming she was wearing a g-string thong, and that string was buried deep in the crack of her ass.

"You're welcome, by the way," she said as she got comfortable, changing the angle of the back of the chair to match her neighbor.

"I'm welcome?"

"For the weather."

"Oh... that," Ann snickered.

"If I'm going to get bitched at by my viewers for lousy weather, and trust me, I do, then I'm sure as fuck going to take credit for days like this."

Ann smiled that Monique wasn't going to pretend she was anything other than who she knew her to be. A television weather forecaster for a station in DC. Embracing that, she called her what the vast majority of the broadcast area recognized her as.

"You're definitely welcome, Skye. I can't believe I'm getting to lay out it the sun like this in April. It's so nice to finally be outside instead of stuck in a tanning bed like I have been all winter."

"You do all your tanning in a booth?"

"Ha. No."

"I didn't think so. You look too natural. Most people that tan in a booth all the time look orange to me."

"Aw... thanks! I go to a tanning booth every ten days or so in the winter to keep my base."

"Must be killing you to have to wear that bikini then, even as microscopic as it is. You obviously love laying out naked."

"True. Yours isn't any bigger. It barely covers those incredible areolas."

"Also true... I'm obviously not wearing anything like it often enough, though. Or at all. My tan lines are way too modest for who I really feel inside."

"So why today?"

"What, the new bikini?"

"Yeah. First time wearing it?"

"Yes. I just bought it for this trip. Like I said, I knew the weather would be nice based on the forecast modules I've looked at the last couple weeks. I've had this conference on my schedule for months. The closer it got to the date, the more I was convinced it would be gorgeous this weekend."

"Conference?"

"Well, it's actually the Shenandoah Valley Agricultural Symposium."

"Sounds interesting."

"It is to the people that come. I'm here to talk about climate change and how it will affect crops and fruit groves in the future. This valley is one of the top producers of apples in the country. But they also grow other things. Anyway, it's a two day thing. I'm on a couple of panels tomorrow. And I'm the guest speaker tonight. To be honest, I can't believe I had the nerve to walk out of my room like this. There are a lot of people that are going to see me when I leave the pool, and then see me speak tonight."

"So why did you?"

"You... what we did last night. This is the best I've felt about myself in ages, Rachel. It's been years since I put my personal needs in front of my career goals. I took a huge risk last night, going to see you. There's a reason I was the last one to visit you. Heather... it's Heather, right?"

"Yes."

"She asked me what time I might like to join you. I took the last slot you'd be working. There was less chance I'd be seen going in and out of your room that early in the morning."

"I understand. But what about now? You said you can't believe you worked up the nerve to wear that. Why are you? What changed?"

"I dunno. I guess I just don't care anymore. What good is having money, if you don't enjoy your life. And what good is respect amongst the peer group you're pandering to, if you don't respect yourself."

"My God... Skye... "

"It's actually Monique. Monique Porter."

"Really?"

"You didn't seriously think my name is Skye Storm, did you? That's just a stupid name they made me come up with when I first got into the business. They wanted me to have something memorable and sexy."

"Funny. There aren't many names sexier than Monique. I'm just saying."

"Aw... thank you. My God, you don't know how much I needed to hear that. Especially since I'm kind of discovering who I am again. Or at least, who I want to be."

"So why Skye Storm? What was wrong just being you?"

"It's an industry thing. Trust me, a lot of people change their name when they get into television, or frankly, in entertainment. In my case, Monique doesn't resonate with my audience apparently. It doesn't scream weather girl."

"Aren't you a meteorologist?"

"Well, yeah."

Recalling exactly what Monique had said to her the night before when she'd quipped about being a whore, Ann offered, "Sweetie, don't degrade yourself like that. You're obviously much more than what you're doing for a living. Call yourself a meteorologist for fucks sake."

Monique smirked and nodded. "Ha! Yeah... okay. Thanks."

"You're welcome, Skye," she winked.

"Now who's been funny. You're in entertainment too. It's adult entertainment, but it's how you've decided to make a living for now. I'm sure your name isn't really Rachel Green. I mean, I get it. You kind of resemble Aniston in a way. I really love the hair. It's longer, and more stylish, but it fits the look. It's more mature."

"Thanks. And you're right. My name isn't Rachel," Ann replied, pausing for the briefest of moments. She wanted to be honest, her overwhelming desire to connect with other humans practically screaming for her to properly introduce herself. Yet she was still in character. She wasn't going to break it now. She almost had the night before, willing to sacrifice the illusion of the game she was playing to protect Monique from being videotaped having sex without her knowledge. Most of the people that she was having sex with were people she knew. Hell, she'd make sure that they a copy of their visit if they wanted one. The others were people she'd never see again, and weren't easily recognized by the general public, so it seemed inconsequential. But Monique was a celebrity of sorts. It seemed wrong for a lot of reasons. That Monique requested that she leave the cameras on resonated. It caused her to think about what might happen if she told her who she was.