Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 11

When she had felt my member begin its telltale throbbing, a third climax, not so intense, gripped her.

Slowly, the fire storm subsided. We lay in a great disorderly tangle of sweaty arms, legs, breasts and bodies. Something wonderful had just happened. None of us wanted to break the spell. We must have lain there fifteen minutes, I was still buried to the hilt in Louise, sharing the intimate afterglow of good sex.

Finally Louise stirred. "Someone's on my leg," she said. "I think the blood supply is cut off." It was me. I pulled back, and my soft member plopped out of her, and made a slimy trail across her leg as I moved.

"Yuuk," she said. "Wipe that thing off before you go flinging it around." I bent over and kissed her. "If you were as good as you think you are, it would have come out of you slick and clean," I said.

Bette jumped up and went to the bathroom. When she came back, it was Louise's turn. She cupped her delta with her hand to prevent our mixed juices from dripping on the rug as she ran into the bath.

Bette curled up in my arms. "A girl needs to feel loved and wanted after she's been tricking all night," she said. "You might as well get used to taking care of your stable of ladies," she murmured sleepily. She closed her eyes and went to sleep.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling. Is that what I have become? I wondered. A whore master?

Louise came out of the bathroom. "Would you mind if I slept here?" she asked.

I held out my other arm. She turned off the light and snuggled in next to me, laying her head on my arm. In moments, she was also asleep, while I continued staring into the dark.

Steve called me at the office the next day, Monday, and asked if I could make a meeting on Friday afternoon. "If you can, come up early and have lunch. Then you can watch a scene for the next movie being filmed, OK?"

I looked at my desk calendar. It was clear for Friday.

"OK," I said, "unless something comes up, I'll be there." I marked `Studio' across the page.

That evening, Louise and Bette collaborated on dinner. While I would never say this to Bette, Louise was the better cook. I immediately recognized her meatloaf.

After dinner, Louise joined me in the living room while Bette piled dishes in the washer. "Am I in the way, here, Jim?" she asked, her eyes and lovely face solemn.

"I don't think so," I said. "Have you asked Bette?"

"I'm asking you."

"Well, I just told you. Why?"

She wrinkled her nose in that little girl fashion I had found so appealing. "Bette asked me to stay," she said.

That didn't surprise me. I had almost expected her to. "If you do stay," I said, "you must understand that things between us are different now."

She sighed, "I know Jim. And I'm sorry. But I've got to be honest with you. As much as I regret that and the hurt I caused you, if I had it to do over again, I would. That's how powerfully moved I was."

I nodded, silently reliving those painful moments when Louise had left. "What do you plan to do?" I asked.

"If I stay, I'll pull my share of the load around here. Housekeeping, cooking, all that sort of thing."

"Yes, but are you planning to get a job?"

"I've got a job."

"You mean you intend to continue tricking?"

"Sure. Why not? I know the ropes and it's something I'm good at. Most the time, I don't even mind it, and some of the time I have a real ball. Plus, I still get a kick out of being paid for it."

She looked at me thoughtfully, and smiled a bit wryly. "As long as it's true confession time, I might as well tell you that you scored big on me with that note."

"I don't understand."

"I don't know whether I should tell you this, but Bette probably will, and I know it will sound better coming from me." She paused to take a deep breath. "We had talked about setting up an apartment; maybe even getting a third girl in with us. I almost had her talked into it, when good old honest Jim comes blundering in with that note." She smiled a bit ruefully. "I couldn't get her out of here now with a stick of dynamite! Which means that we now have to work around that problem."

I was mildly shocked to learn that Louise had gone behind my back, but I had to appreciate the fact that she was honest enough to tell me about it. Overshadowing everything else, however, was the unpleasant news that the two women intended to continue tricking. "Hey, wait a minute! You can't use this apartment, if that's what you have in mind!" I said firmly. "That's completely out of the question."

"It's my apartment, too," Louise reminded me.

"I don't care. I can't stop you from turning tricks, if that's what you want to do, but I can insist that you take your trade somewhere else."

"Look," Louise said patiently, "You wouldn't even have to know about it. Besides, it's a hell of a lot safer tricking here than it would be in some stranger's hotel room. Some of these men are dangerous."

I knew she was right, but God damn! You have to draw the line some place. Besides, I knew it was almost inevitable that sooner or later, one or both of them would be busted. When that happened, my license to practice law could very well be out the window, and I might be lucky to avoid a jail sentence for keeping a disorderly house.

In other words, this was one case where I clearly had everything to lose and nothing to gain. Any sensible person in my shoes would have put his foot down, and I know that's what I should have done.

But I was not a sensible person. I was drunk with the continuous sexual stimulation provided by the two women, and blinded by the endless titillation their activities provided. Also, I cared deeply for -- perhaps even loved -- both women and I would not, could not, expose them to the many inherent dangers and risks that threaten working women on the streets.

"I think you should rent an apartment somewhere, like you intended to do in the first place," I said.

Louise shook her head. "Two young women are always suspect," she said. "The landlord would watch us like a hawk, and sooner or later, either we'd be out or he'd be in business with us. So would the beat cop, the taxi drivers who steer trade to us, and probably even the newsboy on the corner. First thing you know, we'd have a payroll like General Motors. We'd be flat on our backs working for everybody else." She paused for breath, while I marveled at her tenacity.

"I can't believe you!" I said. "You're unreal!" I insisted that Louise and Bette practice their trade elsewhere, but even as I argued with her, I was privately rationalizing that even though society defines prostitution as a crime, the trade was relatively benign as long as it was sheltered from peripheral criminal activities and conducted as carefully as Su Lin had conducted it with me.

In other words, to my mind, sex workers merely provided a service; a service that many men (and not a few women) found necessary, and for which they were willing to pay.

Not realizing she had an important silent ally in the back of my mind, Louise sighed and patiently tried again. "OK," she said, "here's another scenario. The housewife hooker. There's lots of them out there, making the car payment or buying a new refrigerator with their pussies. You'd be surprised."

I shook my head. "Nothing surprises me," I said, "But how would you work that?" Before the words were out of my mouth, I cursed myself for giving her the opening.

Louise grinned her `gotcha' grin, and continued, "Same deal, only you're the husband, very jealous, and you don't know anything about it."

"God dammit!" I said, trying to regain lost ground, "that's as bad as straight tricking! How many times do I have to tell you: you're not to use this apartment!"

Louise sighed and looked at Bette. "Do you want to tell him, or shall I?"

"Tell me what?" I asked with a sinking feeling that I didn't really want to know the answer.

"Bette and I each turned two tricks here this after noon," Louise said calmly. "No big deal, $50 a pop, except one guy tipped me a $20."

"WHAT?!!!" I had to sit down. My life was spinning out of control! "What did you do? Put a sign in the window? Walk naked in the street? Pass out handbills?"

"Don't be silly," Bette said. "Louise just put a little ad in the personals column of the paper."

"Where? Show me," I said, suddenly panicked that the police were only minutes away from the door as we spoke.

Louise silently handed me the paper. A three-line ad in the middle of the column was circled.

Bored friendly housewives

seek afternoon fun. Call

555-2934 daytime only

"Oh my God," I said. "That's our telephone number! Couldn't you at least have gotten a new number?" With those fateful words, I fell right into Louise's little trap.

Louise smiled triumphantly. "Why?" she calmly asked. "Who is going to recognize that number? And if they do, why are they reading the personals column?

"If they're looking for pussy, as far as I'm concerned, they need look no further. I don't mind fucking your friends. I used to fuck them for free, all the time. Besides, I don't have any friends anymore. The only friends working girls have are other working girls. And their man, of course." She smiled sweetly at me.

Two things about Louise hadn't changed at all. One was her stubbornness, the other, her ability to put me in a corner. She made it look so easy.

"You see," Louise explained, "all we needed was a little push to get started. That ad will get things started. Those guys will be back. And they'll tell their friends, and the first thing you know, we'll be on easy street." She leered at me. Then, seeing the expression on my face, her tone abruptly changed.

"Oh, come on," she said, sharply, "for Christ's sake, Jim, lighten up. The sky isn't falling. And if you're worrying about dirty sheets, we've already changed the beds."

"I'm worrying about a hell of a lot more than dirty sheets," I said bitterly. "I'm worrying about my license. I'm worrying about staying out of jail."

"Don't be silly," she retorted.

Bette said, "We haven't told you the best news of all."

There was more? I sat down. "What's that?" I asked.

"Sandy came over today."

"Not while you girls were entertaining, I hope."

"You got it," Louise said dryly.

"Oh, my God! What happened?" I asked.

"Well, Bette was in the back bedroom with her john," she said, "and I had my lad in the other bedroom, when the doorbell rang.

"I wouldn't have answered it, except I thought it was another john, so I threw on a robe and went to the door. It was Sandy. She had stopped to have a cup of coffee with Bette. Needless to say, she was floored when she saw me! I didn't know what to do.

"If I hadn't had a naked john waiting for me in the bedroom, naturally I would have invited her in. But while I was stalling, trying to think of some way to get rid of her, my john came out of the room, bareassed naked with his cock in his hand. I almost laughed at her expression when she realized it wasn't you."

"Very funny," I said.

"Well, it was. I asked Sandy to wait in the living room; that I wouldn't be long. She got a funny look on her face and asked if she could watch. I asked my customer, and he thought it was a great idea."

"So the three of you went into the bedroom?"

"That's right. I jumped on the bed with my john. while Sandy sat on the arm chair in the corner. I was busy with him, of course, but I sneaked peeks at her from time to time to see how she was taking this.

"She's pretty cool. She sat there like she was in church for the first five minutes or so. Then, as my lad was going down on me, she began rubbing her thighs together. The skirt on her little sundress kept working its way up, and soon I saw her panties. After my john climbed into the saddle, and I had him working, I turned so I could watch Sandy. She saw me looking at her. By that time, her skirt was bunched in her lap, and she had pulled her panty leg open so she could slip her fingers into her cunt. I was getting hotter from watching her that from the poking my john was giving me!

"As soon as her right hand was working in her box, she reached inside the top of her dress and began playing with her tits. As I said, I was really turning on from watching this. Of course, my fool of a john thought it was his wonderful cock -- actually, it wasn't bad -- and he really began going to town! Poor Sandy had her dress off her shoulders by this time and was naked to the waist. My boy poured about a gallon of his jism into me. Sandy ran into the front room before he saw her, and she stayed in the kitchen until he left.

"She didn't know Bette was tricking in the back bedroom. As soon as the door closed, she threw her arms around me and gave me a terrific welcome home kiss. Then she practically dragged me into the bedroom, and after pulling her dress over her head, pushed me back, crawled between my legs and began sucking that john's come out of me.

"That girl licked my pussy so clean, it was practically squeaky when the doorbell rang again. In the meanwhile, Bette's had finished her trick, so she answered the door, and took the new john into the back bedroom to show him was a friendly housewife does for fun on a slow Tuesday afternoon."

"God," Bette said, "if I had known Sandy was in there polishing Louise's cunt, I'd have told the new trick to go fuck himself. I would have been in there with them!"

I had begun to breathe normally again. "How did you explain all this to her?"

Louise looked at me pityingly. "You men are such children about some things. There was no point in trying to hide things. We told her the score. It took an hour, but I finally got around to telling her how Bette and I had met, how my pimp had beat me up and how Bette had dragged me home to heal. I also made it clear you didn't have any idea what was going on, which was the simple truth."

"How'd she take it? What did she say?"

Louise grinned. I knew that self-congratulatory grin well. "It was short and sweet: She asked if she could join us? But then she added that she only wanted to suck cocks. She went on to telling me how you had turned her on to swallowing a man's cum; how much she preferred that to actual fucking. 'Besides,' she said, 'I wouldn't feel so much like I was cheating on Jeff if I only sucked them off.' I told her that she was made for the business and that the johns would love her."

"Sandy is now a full fledged partner," Bette added. "You didn't turn her out; we did."

"You mean . . ."

"Exactly," Bette said. "She spent the rest of the afternoon here. She wants to specialize in topless blow jobs. The two tricks she turned -- one of them a guy who had already fucked Louise -- said she gave the best head he had ever had."

I was terribly conflicted which resulted from the combined shock and excitement I felt. My sedate apartment has been turned into a whorehouse. My mind literally whirled from a maelstrom of ideas. My first impulse was to run away and hide -- yet I also wanted to plunge my manhood into the very center of this rich cornucopia of willing - nay, eager - female flesh that surrounded me. I was especially enchanted by the vision of a slender topless ash blonde fellatrice on her knees with my cock in her hot, wet mouth.

Forgetting our earlier argument about using the apartment for this purpose at all, I asked, "How much are you charging her?"

"Fifty percent," Louise said. Any other place would charge her sixty percent or more." Practical Louise added, "This is a business, Jim. Sandy had to understand that even though we're all friends, there are certain business expenses . . ."

"She went for it? Just like that?"

Louise laughed. "Of course. Nobody twisted her arm. Of course, she's not as free as we are. She has to get a baby sitter, and if that gets too expensive we may have to increase her share. But after watching that girl work, I honestly believe she would pay us to let her suck cocks."

We went to bed together again that night, but oddly, none of us was particularly randy. I laid on my back. Bette was curled within my right arm, and Louise's head rested on my left arm. It was becoming easier to forget that she had ever been away. However, I soon turned on my right side and cuddled Bette. Louise had also turned so her magnificent breasts were resting warmly against my back.

At breakfast, Louise looked at me. "I feel like going downtown tonight. How about it, Jim? Want to drive your stable to work tonight?"

"I have a court date in the morning."

"That's OK," Louise said. "We can get a cab home when we're ready."

I didn't argue. Actually, truth be told, I was looking forward to seeing them in action.

The girls were bathed, powdered and perfumed when I got home that evening. They both had plastic curlers in their hair, were wearing sexless bathrobes and were shuffling around in heelless slippers. After supper, I loaded the dishes in the washer, then went into the bedroom to watch the girls getting ready for their night's work.

This show was too good to miss. I walked across the carpet and sat quietly on the corner of the bed. Bette was sitting on the boudoir stool in front of the dressing table, applying her makeup. Louise was standing behind her arranging Bette's hair. Louise was still wearing her scruffy bathrobe, but Bette was nude except for her lacy black garter belt, dark patterned stockings, and panties. The sight of her naked little body never failed to arouse me, and almost automatically, I felt a familiar distant ache begin in my loins as I admired the exquisite curve of her taut breasts, and the sweet line from the small of her back over the symmetry of her buttocks, down the backs of her long thighs.

The women soon traded places. Louise tossed her robe on the bed, gave me a wink, and sat on the stool Bette had just left. Again, I was struck by their physical differences. Her breasts were much heavier than Bette's, almost pendulous, but they were saved from looking gross by their exquisite pear shape.

Bette's body was half in the shadow as she worked on Louise's hair. I watched Louise's breasts sway in the mirror as she moved her arms while applying her makeup. The two nearly naked women were beautiful to watch as they helped one another. A part of my mind longed for the skill of an artist -- or at least a photographer -- to record the beauty of the moment. Another, less noble, need was reflected in my tingling groin. To put the matter bluntly, watching those two women prepare for "work" was making me horny as hell.

There was no use appealing to them for relief. They weren't about to waste an hour's preparation for a five-minute quickie. I could just forget it.

Of course, I could always jack-off; most likely that's exactly what they would tell me to do. And, like most men I did exactly that from time to time, even though my generation was cruelly conditioned by parents, preachers and scout masters, who foolishly told us that if, in our steamy adolescence, we played with ourselves, we would unquestionably face terrible consequences. It wasn't just the preachers or scout masters who were guilty of this nonsense. Fifty years ago, the Navy was so horrified by the prospect of lusty young sailors and marines committing "self abuse," the Navy's euphemism for masturbation, that it was specifically prohibited and anyone caught in the act was subject to a sentence not exceeding 15 years at hard labor in the Naval penitentiary.

Notwithstanding this massive negative pressure, nature's was greater. Man and boy, we all jacked off, but we did it secretly, and in great fear of discovery. I would have gone into the bathroom to relieve the growing pressure in my loins, but since I was scheduled to take the girls downtown almost immediately, I was going to have to wait for the relief I craved.

Instead, I wandered back into the living room and tried to concentrate on a news magazine while I waited for the women to finish dressing. It was nearly nine before they emerged from the bedroom. Louise wore a low cut, loosely fitted red mini dress that was decorated with a wide sash. The hem of her dress ended just slightly above mid-thigh. Louise also wore her fake pearls.