Gwen Gets Life

Chapter 1 -- Gwen's Transitions

Gwen finally felt pretty good about how things were going in her life. It hadn't been like that in a long time.

After the protracted and difficult divorce from her high school sweetheart she faced the hard reality that she had to find some way of supporting herself in the standard of living she wanted -- not the one she had but the one she deserved. The alimony would barely make a dent in her monthly expenses, even when the drunk made the payments, and it wasn't going to last forever. She had always thought she could have been a successful lawyer if she had the opportunity but her early marriage to that alcoholic robbed her of that prospect. So the next best thing was a paralegal (as against a legal secretary) and it was something she could afford.

She approached it like she did everything else in her life -- head on. She did what she had to do to survive until she got that certificate: she waited on tables; she even cleaned hotel rooms and houses. But the one that really got her through the financial bad times was when she worked as an exotic dancer. She ended up there by circumstance.

When she moved out on her soon to be ex-husband, all she could afford was a small (read that as tiny) studio apartment in a less than desirable part of town. She did notice, however, that many of the tenants appeared to be single or separated women with similar circumstances. So she sought a couple of them out -- Marie and Pam in particular. Their stories were so much like hers they bonded.

One Saturday evening, as had become a ritual, the three of them got a little drunk. That night, however, they decided to go watch an amateur contest at a club in Pompano Beach. Gwen's ex had often dragged her to one of the many strip clubs in the area, for some reason known only to him, so it was no big deal for her. They piled in the car, along with a new bottle of scotch, and somehow made the trip in one piece. The doorman, seeing the three attractive and very drunk women, let them in immediately and saw to it that they sat among the contestants. Peer pressure being what it is Pam was the first to suggest they try their luck for the $1,000 prize. Everyone there thought Gwen would be the likely winner so, in her debilitated state, she reluctantly agreed to go first. The booze had done its work and besides, modesty wasn't something she had ever cared about.

Gwen was escorted behind the main bar passing the men's and ladies rooms and into a small dressing room full of skimpy costumes hanging on a rolling rack and a row of old and beat up lockers. Along one wall was a large and dirty makeup mirror for everyone's common use.

"Take your pick from the rack, honey, or use what you got on -- your choice!" said the den mother and left Gwen to her own devices. She decided to use a Velcro clasping g-string and matching pushup bra with a white silk button up the front night-shirt as the cover. Her choice was solely based on the fact that those items had fewer makeup and sweat stains then the others. At least she thought they were sweat.

Soon enough the moment of truth arrived.

"And now let's give a big welcome to our first real amateur -- for her first time ever on any stage -- here's Princess Gwendolyn!" The music started its primal beat which, along with the booze, got her in the mood. Then the lights came on. She started dancing provocatively as she had seen other strippers do, swaying her hips to the beat. It didn't take long for her to lose herself in the music letting her natural instincts carry her. She worked her way down one side of the stage and up the other -- strutting her stuff. The crowd cheered and leered at the suggestion of what she was offering and she loved it. Gwen turned her back on the crowd and slowly inched up the night shirt so her thong separated ass cheeks showed. When she shook her booty the men nearest the stage hooted. She reached up and unbuttoned the top button on the shirt, then reached down and unbuttoned the bottom button, then repeated it. When only one was left she teased the men by alternately opening the bottom and then the top of the nightshirt so they could just get glimpses of what was to come. When she pulled the shirt open the men cheered and started throwing money on the stage. Up against the mirrors at the back of the stage, Gwen pulled off the night shirt and threw it on the floor. She was really into it now. She was feeling the power of the tease. The men cheering and screaming were feeding her bruised ego. There she was -- in only a bra, thong and heels in front of a hundred screaming men and she loved it. She decided it was time to be wantonly bold.

As Gwen danced down the stage toward the crowd she reached to the front of the bra and unhooked it. She momentarily held the cups in place as the straps fell down and then released it entirely exposing her tits with their upturned, and very hard, nipples. The men cheered even louder and it turned her on even more. She shook her tits at one side of the room and then the other. She ran her hands under her tits and pushed them up towards the crowd as she bent at the waist. More money came floating onstage. In the middle of the runway she reached to both sides for the velcro fasteners on the g-string and pulled. Quick as could be the g-string was high in the air exposing her totally shaved pussy to the world. The men cheered and clapped more loudly than before. More money floated on the stage. Gwen danced and gyrated up and down the stage, working the pole, pushing up her tits, spreading her legs suggestively as she squatted down in front of them showing them all she had to offer. She was so turned on her pussy was soaking and she wondered whether it was visible to the men. In truth she didn't care one way or the other.

And suddenly the music ended.

"Wow what a show! Let's give her a big round of applause." the announcer said. She quickly scooped up the bills littering the stage, collected her clothes and exited the stage flushed with excitement and laughing uncontrollably with delight. She had never felt so exhilarated in her life. When she had dressed, she counted the money and was amazed that she was holding $350 -- for five minutes work. The crowning moment was when they announced she had won the contest and presented her with another $1000 in cash. She was hooked.

The next morning through her hangover haze, she thought about the evening. She had really gotten excited by the stripping. It gave her a sense of power, it gratified her need for attention and it made her feel sexually desirable. And sure, she was probably an exhibitionist at heart. Besides, the money was great. She called the club owner and after a brief conversation about her and the house rules, made an arrangement for her to dance three nights a week. It left her plenty of time for school. Within a couple of weeks, she was making ten times more money during that twenty hours a week than she did as a waitress for forty, and it was a whole lot more fun. Even though she could have had the choice of any man at the club and given into his lust in the VIP rooms, she never allowed anything more than lap dances and head butts. Some of the girls did much more - she chose not. Her new best friends were her dildo and her fingers.

In the end, it wasn't the wanton exposure of her body parts, the public nudity, or the occasional groping that made her quit, it was the presumption she was some kind of slut and one that was available for a price. She considered herself extremely sensual and even aggressive in fulfilling her sexual needs and it wasn't like she was a virgin being "touched for the very first time". But, she wanted the choice of when, where and with whom to be the slut she knew she was. She quit dancing the week before graduation.

Her first job after graduation was with a small law office. Maybe she shouldn't have left that job before she found another but the advances, lechery and lewdness from the lawyer wasn't something she could tolerate. And when he told her to relax because he had seen her at the strip club, therefore assumed he knew what kind of girl she was, and that was the reason he "took the chance" to hire her, that was the last straw.

Consequently she had been out of work for six months. She was nearly broke and desperate. She was in danger of being evicted, her credit cards were maxed out, and her bank account was down to $200. Breaking her promise to herself, she had gone back to the club owner to ask for her old job back. His answer had been she could have it back if she gave him and every male employee a blow job, gave every dancer head until they came in her face, and fucked twenty men of his choosing starting with him. She slapped him and stormed out of the club in tears. She swore to herself she would never, ever, go back again.

So when she saw the advertisement for a position at the largest Ft Lauderdale law firm, Manns, Toman and Manns, she immediately sent her resume along with a personal photograph. She was thankful that they responded quickly and asked her to come in for an interview.

When she arrived on the appointed day, prompt and primped as always, she was greeted by a stunning woman dressed uncharacteristically provocative in a sheer blouse. She was purposely revealing a lacey and somewhat skimpy bra covering small breasts. The blouse was tucked into an extremely tight and short skirt slit slightly up the side to permit her to walk. She introduced herself as Debra and she called herself the receptionist.

"Ms. Manns is expecting you. She will be with you in just a moment" Debra purred with a voice of pure silk. Gwen had never heard a sound quite so sensual.

"Please have a seat while you wait. Can I get you anything .... anything at all?"

"No thank you" Gwen responded. The double meaning did not go completely over her head. She watched as Debra returned to her desk. She had the balanced walk of a dancer and the grace of a cat. Her butt cheeks flexed ever so slightly accentuated by the skirt and her hips swayed suggestively. 'I wonder what she is selling besides the obvious?" Gwen thought to herself. There was nothing much left to the imagination.

Gwen had become so focused on Debra that she was a little startled when she realized someone was standing in front of her.

"Hi, you must be Gwen. I am Riley Manns."

Gwen rose. "It's a pleasure" she responded. Gwen took in all of Riley in a single glance. Riley was about 5'6" and clearly made an effort to stay in shape. She wore a tailored but firm fitting suit with a small show of cleavage. Her hair, a careful mixture of blond and auburn was pulled back into a knot which accentuated her high cheekbones and large green eyes. She was the magnificent specimen of a classic and classy woman in her prime and she looked all business.

Gwen realized Riley was staring back at her and it made her a little nervous. "I'm sure the pleasure will be all mine" Riley responded with a smile not unlike a Cheshire cat and turned toward her office. Gwen, a little dumbfounded by the response, just quietly followed her into her office.

"Welcome to my little sanctuary. Please close the door behind you so we can have complete privacy. In our business privacy is imperative so we had the walls and doors soundproofed."

Riley moved behind her desk and motioned for Gwen to sit in the chair opposite and a little removed. Riley scanned the resume and, looking over the top of the paper, took the entire picture of Gwen sitting there. Gwen's skirt was demurely just above the knee and her suit jacket slightly gapped exposing just a hint of the underlying camisole. Her silky blond hair falling shoulder length framed her face and offset her bright grey eyes. Her makeup was practiced, simple and effective in highlighting her best facial features.

"I am sorry for staring but you are very lovely to look at Gwen." After a short pause during which Gwen was sure she was being undressed, she continued. "Well on to business. Your resume indicates you are an experienced paralegal although it's tenure seems rather brief. I assume Gerry was being his lecherous self. Let me explain what we require here. My husband and I need two things in one person: a right hand with strong legal knowledge, and a very personal assistant to look after us and keep us organized and prepared. We can be demanding but the rewards are worth it. We expect total discretion with everything you might learn, overhear or see. There will be quite a lot of very personal information having to do with us, the firm, and our clients. Have you any questions so far?"

"Yes please, exactly what kind of law does the firm practice?"

"My specialty is matrimonial and personal injury, and my husband's is corporate and finance. The firm's other senior partner does some criminal, but mostly real estate and estate and tax. We have thirty five other attorneys all with some combination of specialties and we practice group law. We all do trial work as well. You might say we are a full service practice. Why do you ask?"

"Oh I was curious as to which part of my knowledge I will need to brush up on. Should I be given the opportunity, I wouldn't want to disappoint."

"What a lovely answer. May I ask a personal question?"

"Certainly."

"I understand you have substantial debt, little money and really need a job. I also understand you have been out of work for six months and that is the root of it all. Is that correct?"

"I am not sure how you know that but yes I am afraid it's true. After I received my certification I was fortunate enough to land a job but, as you so aptly put it, Gerry was a lecher, so I quit. That was six months ago and things have been a little tough. I know the reputation of your firm and I would do anything to show you what I can do for you."

"I am so sorry for your struggles but I believe they all come for a reason. You clearly demonstrate what it takes to work here by your willingness to admit your needs and do whatever you need to do to carry on including, I know, some things not on your resume. Gerry's loss may be our gain. Sit there a moment and let me get my husband to meet you and see what he says as well."

Riley stood and walked through another door which was obviously a connector to her husband's office. In hardly a minute Riley returned followed by a tall, fit and very distinguished looking man.

"Hi, I'm Morgan Manns" he said offering his hand. She took it to shake and felt an overwhelming emotional response to his touch. It was one of immediate comfort, trust and intense sexual desire. She was taken back by it and he seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. He smiled gently at her and she relaxed.

"Gwen Forster, sir. I am so glad to meet you" she offered a little flushed and a lot breathless.

"He has that effect on most women the first time they meet him. For him its lovely, for me it's a curse." said Riley and they both chuckled.

"I only have eyes for you dear" he retorted and she snickered.

"That and all of the rest of womanhood."

"Don't let her fool you, I really am relatively harmless. It all has something to do with my body chemistry!" Morgan said and leaned on the end of the table. "So tell me all about yourself, what you need, and why you think you want to work here!"

What followed was two hours of the most intense questioning one could possibly imagine. They asked everything from her early childhood memories to her attitude about sex and marital fidelity. They asked her questions about her personal sexual partner preferences. They asked what she did to survive during her schooling and to describe her state of mind when she danced. They asked anything and everything. She was totally exposed and intimidated by it all but held her ground firmly and calmly and answered openly, honestly and fully. And above all, she knew that what they were doing wasn't exactly legal.

"I am a little surprised at the questioning and I know that some of them aren't appropriate for an interview. May I ask why you want to know some of these things?" she asked politely trying to bring the intense interrogation to a close.

"How tactful my dear," he responded, "My answer is as honest as yours have been. You will learn that and more about us, the firm and our clients should you come to work with us and we need to know how you will process that information or if your beliefs will get in the way. We also need to learn whether you are a trustworthy enough person to maintain the absolute confidentiality of it all. That is only fair, isn't it?"

"I suppose" she answered.

"Good - then it is settled. The position is yours if you would like. The pay is $75,000 to start with a review in 90 days at which time you should receive an increase of five to fifteen thousand assuming you make the grade. The position also includes full medical, dental and $50,000 in life insurance after that same trial period. You will work closely with us and only us here at the firm. We sometimes work long hours but we also celebrate our victories. Can you start on Monday?"

"Absolutely" she said in all sincerity and she meant it. Not only was the salary more than she expected but she just knew she would learn a great deal from working with them.

Riley smiled. "Don't worry, you will feel like you earn it."

She hit the ground running using that first day to familiarize herself with some of their processes and methods. She took older cases home and read them to get a feel for their style. She learned about the firm's affairs -- personal and financial - and the Mann's affairs as well -- personal and financial. She learned they worked hard and they partied harder.

By the end of the third week she had synchronized into their rhythm, working side by side with them, giving all she had to please them. But nothing in her experience had prepared her for the type of law they practiced. She learned and understood what the law was supposed to be like. Her admiration for the Mann's blossomed and grew as did her desire to please them. They complimented her on her work, stroked her gently on the shoulder or arm and she glowed in their radiance. They always seemed to be there for her just as she was for them. She grew as a person and a professional.

So it was a natural event when a long holiday weekend approached they asked about her plans.

"I really don't have any." She responded.

"What, no special fellow to spend the time with at the beach?"

"I afraid there isn't any special fellow right now" Gwen told them.

"Well then it's settled" Morgan quipped "you'll come to our place in the Keys for the weekend and celebrate with us!"

"I wouldn't want to be an imposition" she offered.

"Don't be silly" Riley interrupted "we've been looking for an excuse to invite you. You have done so much for us we want to offer a small something as a token of our appreciation. When Morgan suggested we go to the Keys I suggested we invite you as well. Please say you will come. There is plenty of room!"

"It sounds so wonderful. Thank you."

That Friday the three piled in the Mann's Mercedes S500 and headed down to their beachside cottage in a remote enclave on the Gulf side of Marathon. She had never seen anything so majestic. It was four bedrooms and four baths in an open floor plan, was almost on the beach and had a very private view of the ocean along with a very private beach. The covered portion of the patio was the entire width of the house and included a large hot tub, a sitting and lounging area and a large cook center and bar. To the side was a boat house with a speedboat. The sun was setting and the blue water reflected the colors of the setting sun.

"This view is breathtaking - just breathtaking." she offered as they unloaded the car.

After a quick tour of the "cottage", they opened a bottle of wine and settled on the lounges outside to watch the last of the sunset. Gwen sank into the heavily padded chair and instantly relaxed letting out a moan of appreciation.