Ascending Lauren Ch. 11

This narrative is part of a multi-part story that explores the sexual exploits of a Midwestern couple who wanted a change in locale, but are experiencing much, much more. Subject matter includes hotwife/cuckold topics. If you do not care for these types of tales, move on. You are your only enemy if you continue reading.

Those that do choose to continue, please know reading previous chapters will help you better understand the characters and their journey, but is not a requirement.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are over 18.

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November 26th. Just over three months to go.

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Lightning lit up the skies over Miami International as Lauren Miller watched the rain pummel the tarmac, sending ground crews scurrying for cover. Wave after wave of muffled rolling thunder could be heard inside the terminal. Not good. As if on cue, a collective groan rose from a group of travelers standing next to the big status board.

Delayed. Cancelled. Delayed. Delayed.

She caught a glimpse of her flight number and sighed with nervous relief. For the moment, only delayed. Thank God. Not only was it the busiest travel day of the year, the weather forecast for South Florida was anything but good. Lauren didn't relish the notion of slogging back to her apartment with luggage she'd already checked, just to return tomorrow on Thanksgiving Day and do it all over again. Thank God daughters Caroline and Amelia had flown into Des Moines from Colorado and Chicago the previous evening. With them settled into their old bedrooms for the long weekend, it was now up to her to make the family whole.

After firing off a quick note to Corey about the delay, she grabbed her backpack and wandered the airport, in and out of small shops packed with snacks, books and trinkets. Eventually her stomach began to rumble. Across the concourse, a quaint dine-and-dash with a medieval façade beckoned. A quick check of her flight's status put the estimated time of departure at two o'clock. Plenty of time for a quick bite.

As Lauren waited in line, one harried family in particular caught her eye. A couple with two small girls, maybe seven or eight years old, had stopped along the concourse to look for their boarding passes. The husband looked lost and the wife annoyed that he could not remember where he'd put them. They were clearly having a tense moment.

That had been she and Corey some twenty years prior, plodding through the life they had forged together, raising two lovely women in the process. Although their 28-year marriage had had its skittish moments - the last few months definitely more edgy than others - they'd been able to weather it all.

Lauren picked up her tray and turned from the counter, nearly colliding with a young girl doing the same. A bit of fancy balancing kept the contents from tumbling to the floor. Looking up from their respective trays, the two sets of gorgeous eyes met and held a gaze.

Oh my God. Randy Sandy's, Lauren gasped at seeing a familiar face smiling back at her.

"Well, hello there," the girl finally spoke. "You just never know who you'll run into at an airport, do ya?"

"H-h-hi, Autumn," Lauren stammered awkwardly. It had been over four weeks since the redhead had given her a very provocative lap dance in a back room of the strip club.

"Oh so, you do remember my name? Nice. I think we made an impression on each other that night, in more ways than one. But you haven't been back to see me, sexy."

Lauren blushed. "I, uh...I'm surprised you remember me."

"I try and remember all my customers, especially the cute ones," the girl winked. "I'm disappointed, we had such a good time."

"I-I-I've been working." Why does this 20-year-old intimidate me so? Oh, that's right, you pretty much paid her to have sex with you.

Autumn scanned the area for an open table. There was only one available. "Want to share?"

Lauren nodded guardedly and followed the dancer across the concourse like a lemming, eyes glued to the long fiery red hair cascading in loose curls over a low-cut peasant blouse. The taut buttocks stuffed into skin-tight jeans were distracting to say the least.

Jesus.

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Autumn smirked at her former customer staring back across the small two-top. "Your food's getting cold."

Lauren snapped out of it. It was a bit of a shock, running into a sex worker she had employed for pleasure just a few weeks ago. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude. It's just that you're the last person I would have expected to see here."

"You sure it has nothing to do with the fact that we had sex?" Autumn asked flatly. "Well, almost, anyway."

The brunette glanced around uneasily at the diners next to them.

"Strippers do fly you know," the girl continued. "Many make pretty good money."

"I'm sure you do. Look, I'm not judging."

Autumn popped a French fry into her mouth. "Didn't say you were."

"You delayed?" Lauren guessed correctly.

"Yeah, until two. You?"

"Same. Headed to Des Moines to see my girls and husband."

"Good for you. Family is important. So, you live in Iowa and work in Miami?"

Lauren explained she and Corey's plan to move to Florida, and that she was the advance team, so to speak. "So, what's your story? Home as well?"

"Well, first, seeing that I'm not on the clock - and I like you - my birth name is Chloe. Second, I'm an orphan, so no one to go home to."

The Rekrap executive felt terrible for broaching such a topic. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"Like you could? Besides, no family means no one to disappoint."

For the next hour and a half, the two traded life stories over a steady flow of beer. Lauren felt sorry for the young dancer.

"Wish you could come to Iowa and have a proper Thanksgiving."

Chloe smiled. "Thanks, I do too. But I'm on the job, heading to the Outer Banks."

"Not a vacation, huh?"

"If I intend on retiring at 30, no vacations yet."

"So don't take this the wrong way, but you're what, a traveling stripper?" Lauren joked.

Chloe laughed. As she did, her large, firm breasts jiggled beneath the loose blouse. "Let's just say I'm a therapist in my spare time."

She noticed the office manager's confused look from the corner of her eye and winked again.

"I'm an escort, dahhhhling."

Lauren's eyebrows arched. Something about that wink made her panties wet, but she had to maintain decorum.

"I-I-I don't see the therapist connection."

"Think about it," Chloe continued. "Men and women - and there are plenty of women - who hire escorts have needs. Escorts fulfill those needs in very specific ways."

Lauren thought back to the night she was propositioned. "Specific? I mean it's just sex, right?"

"Yes and no. It's all hooking, but girls working the street are typically desperate because, well, that's all they have. Many are addicts, others have no education or family to fall back on. I help out at the mission when I can. Terrible stories."

"But not you?"

Chloe took another drink and examined the label.

"Honestly? Not really. Being a product of an orphanage provided me with a means to go to the community college. But I wanted more, so I applied to a four-year university and got into stripping as a way to pay tuition. Which it did, and more."

Lauren gave her an appreciative look. "A college graduate and a stripper. Impressive."

"Well, before you nominate me for the Nobel prize, I didn't graduate. I'm only 20."

"Oh."

"Almost though. I think I've got another ten hours or something. But honestly, I'm making way more money doing what I'm doing, and I get to help people."

"The therapist angle. Fulfilling needs."

Chloe nodded. "Exactly. Most johns trolling streets usually want straight sex, more or less. A blowjob here, quick fuck there. Escort clients tend to be more eclectic. They want sophistication, intelligence, as well as a hole to fuck. We provide that, along with a whole host of fetish specialties. You won't find girls walking the street very experienced in some of the more, shall we say, extreme sensualities. And some just want a pretty face to listen to their problems, maybe eye candy to parade around in front of their friends. A girl looking for just a quick buck towards her next high certainly can't pull that off. The guy I'm seeing this weekend wants to take a girlfriend back home to mom and dad to get them off his case. They're convinced he's gay, which he's not. Just doesn't have a lot of time for women."

"And he has to go to Miami to find a date?"

Chloe shrugged. "What can I say? He liked my online profile and here I am."

Lauren chewed on a fry. "So, it's more than just sex."

"Well, in the end, it's ALL about sex. I'm sure this guy will want something more than mom's apple pie for dessert. But what I do is not very different from some of the things you may have done yourself for your man. Dress as a cheerleader, go to a party as a sexy witch, get tied to the bedposts or put in handcuffs. If you've done any of those things, you're no different than me. Except I get paid in cash and you get paid with attention and love. Oh, and to do my job you have to love to fuck."

It may have been the alcohol, but Lauren actually understood the analogy. She had certainly helped others with their idiosyncrasies. Corey being the most obvious, but there had been Tommy and his thing for older women, Tony and the MILF loving frat brothers, Steve the nerd, who longed to be an alpha-male. Then there was Amy just a few weeks ago.

"I see what you mean," the executive acknowledged. She told Chloe of her acute interest in sexology and how it fascinated her.

The redhead grinned. "Is that what brought you into Sandy's, then? Research?"

The women locked eyes, the heat between their legs manifesting itself as lustful embers within dilated pupils. Had there been more time, neither doubted their earlier tryst would have been repeated in a ladies room located in some remote part of the airport terminal. It was not to be. A new message hit both phones at once, breaking their unspoken connection. The ground stop had been lifted.

"I guess we'd better get to our gates," Lauren lamented quietly, reluctantly slinging the heavy backpack over her shoulder.

Chloe drained the last of the beer and rustled a business card from her purse. She scribbled a phone number on the back.

"Here's my private cell," the younger woman leaned in, her hot breath on Lauren's face. "Call me some time. You know, for research."

Lauren peeked at the card as the erotic dancer swished across the concourse and disappeared into the throng of tourists and suitcases.

Damned if that isn't the sexiest walk ever.

The front read simply Autumn Breeze. Prurient Stables. Elegance for Every Occasion. An office number was beneath. On the back was Chloe's cell phone, accentuated with a heart.

It certainly would take a mighty breeze to cool me off right now.

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Lauren settled into the narrow seat as the airliner climbed to its cruising altitude for the three-and-a-half-hour flight. She was ecstatic about seeing her daughters again. Caroline, of course, was the free spirit. Corey always said she would have walked the road to Woodstock with the thousands of other hippies had she lived through that era. If Lauren had to pick which of their children would fire up a joint in front of them first, Caroline would be the one. Now a high school counselor in Colorado Springs, she was helping the youth of the day take on myriad of problems, from acne to teen pregnancy. It was a noble profession and Lauren was quite proud of her.

Amelia was the exact opposite. The older of the two, a collegiate superstar, first in her class, a first-rate tech job right out of school. That girl was a mover and shaker, and Lauren was equally as proud. The girl had a sharp tongue and wasn't afraid to use it, much to the couple's consternation when she was a teenager.

During Lauren's regular calls with her daughters, Caroline seemed the more relaxed lately. For some odd reason, while never unpleasant, there always seemed to be something on Amelia's mind, something she wasn't saying.

Closing her eyes, Lauren listened to the drone of the engines as they hurtled the metal tube through the sky. It would be an understatement to say things had been crazy since moving to Miami. Lauren went from a nearly frigid, post-menopausal wife to a wanton, sexual being that genuinely sought to understand the art of sex and its nuances. From cuckolding her husband, enjoying multiple partners, and her first lesbian experiences, she had checked more boxes than Corey had ever imagined or hoped for - all in six short months. And they both seemed positively addicted to the thrill. Him relishing the encounters with both lust and loathing - feelings she was still trying hard to process - and she thankful for the opportunity to flirt anew, feel attractive, and yes, having her world rocked again. It was a place neither of them would have envisioned themselves being, and yet here they were, embracing the adventures like teenagers in an amusement park.

Lauren admitted getting a little reckless with the engineer at Rekrap. It was bad enough her CEO knew about the bracelet, but she didn't need rumors floating amongst the staff that their married office manager was a slut. Steve was just socially awkward enough where he might be inclined to tell a few geeky coworkers about their encounter to gain street cred.

Iowa. To say she didn't miss Des Moines would simply not be true. The house where the kids were raised, old haunts, and good friends were all fond memories, although bonds with the latter had slowly been fading. Not being in someone's everyday life tends to distance people emotionally; an unfortunate, almost inevitable consequence of moving away. Corey, God bless him, was her one constant. Many would say her trysts -- as condoned as they were - would surely drive a wedge between them. Obviously, he harbored the same thoughts or else wouldn't have travelled 1,500 miles just a few weeks ago to talk it out. It was clear he was concerned about their future. Was it any surprise? He'd opened Pandora's box and it had him worried. Not that he needed to be. She would never, ever leave him. Theirs was one bond that would last forever.

The one thing truly surprising was the discovery - quite by accident - of his penchant for light humiliation. A man's man, never one to bend or back down, the revelation was a little unsettling. Not in an appalling way, mind you, just so not expected. Even Corey was unnerved by it.

Lauren had read this flavor of the fetish regularly manifested itself to some degree among many men who enjoyed sharing their wives. Only time would tell if that tendency would continue in her husband. It didn't matter. In fact, like her new friend Chloe, Lauren was finding she enjoyed helping others realize their sexual proclivities. Giggling, she had a novel thought. Maybe I should hang out my own shingle: Lauren Miller, Sex Therapist.

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The flight was uneventful and landed on time. Corey arrived promptly, waving cheerfully as his wife burst through the double doors with oversized luggage. From there the couple drove the 45 minutes to the Des Moines suburb where they had lived for decades. Caroline and Amelia made dinner, and they enjoyed their first meal together as a family in quite some time. After clearing the table, the four retired to the living room where they talked to the wee hours of the morning, catching up on every aspect of their lives.

Almost every aspect, that is.

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As they had for years, the family spent most of Thanksgiving Day at the local veterans' shelter, working to ensure those down on their luck had a decent holiday dinner. It was with some sadness they walked out knowing it would be their last time there, but Corey and Lauren pledged to begin doing the same in Florida.

Later that night, the couple made love. Even though they hadn't seen each other for over three weeks, they kept it low key out of fear of waking the girls. Corey was predictably quick, and Lauren whimpered convincingly, requiring a fist-in-mouth to suppress the odd outburst. It was just like old times, the most notable difference being they actually had sex, something the pre-Miami era bedroom had seen precious little of.

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Corey woke that Friday morning full of enthusiasm. He left for an early round of golf with his buddies, Sean, Toby, and Zane. Golfing with these guys was always a blast. Friends for over 20 years, they had seen each other through the best and worst of times. Weddings, children, deaths of parents, Zane's divorce; they'd weathered it all while sloshing though mundane jobs. None of them held ivy league positions. Sean sold furniture, Zane was a motorcycle mechanic, and Toby a firefighter. Besides hanging with his family, there were no other humans on the planet he'd rather be with than these three guys.

Lauren and the girls had their own plans, which included shopping and a trip to the salon. They agreed to meet Corey back at the house early afternoon to prepare for the what they hoped would be their last annual post-Thanksgiving party. It was something the Millers held every year in their large backyard and this one was shaping up to be the best yet. The weather forecast called for clear skies and a low in the mid-50s. Perfect.

Yes, it was going to be a good day.

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After the foursome shot a respectable 18 holes, Corey met Lauren at the house to set up for the big event. Each year they averaged about thirty couples and were hoping for an even bigger turnout this time. Fire pit? Check. Propane heaters? Check. Corn hole? Absolutely. Whiskey? Got it. S'more supplies and firewood? Yep. By three o'clock everything was ready.

Lauren went to the gym for a quick workout while Corey headed to the liquor store for bags of ice.

It was going to be a good evening.

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Lauren rifled through her purse in pursuit of an elusive gym membership card. She hadn't used it since moving. Good through the December 31, she aimed to use it one more time.

The front desk attendant noticed the woman's futile rummaging and offered to confirm membership through her drivers license.

"Oh yes, Mrs. Miller. Nice to see you again. You're good to go. Hope to see your husband again real soon too."

Lauren scrunched her face. "My husband?"

"Yep," the girl replied cheerfully, "he signed up for a membership about two weeks ago. Been coming in four or five nights a week now."

"Corey?" Lauren blinked. "Corey Miller?"

"Yes, nice guy."

Lauren shook her head and walked to the treadmills.

Wow, he's chock full of surprises these days.

Over the next hour she spoke to some of the other gym patrons while drifting from machine to machine. Some she recognized: a couple neighbors, ladies from church, one of their daughters' high school teachers, and a few of Caroline's friends. It was nice seeing familiar faces again. She made sure they all knew about the party that evening.

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Corey stepped from the shower and toweled off. The only things left were to fire up the grill and make sure Caroline had the sound system set up outside. A few lights here, some old basketball flooring pieced together there, and voila, instant dance floor. Although he offered to hire a disc jockey, his daughter had insisted on spinning the music herself. Something about people not wanting to dance to classic rock. Oh, well, Corey had no doubt she'd keep everyone hopping.