High Life: Alice Makes a Change Pt. 05

[Author's note: Alice is married to James, a professional football player who has found himself at a loose end after retiring from the sport. After attending a charity auction in which she was outbid for her own husband, Alice and James have been blackmailed into service by Jodie and her upper-echelon friends. They have no choice but to do her bidding, letting Jodie pimp James out to clients, otherwise she will release the videos she took.]

---

DOMINANT

Jodie got in contact the next day, giving me a time and a place to meet. She told me not to be late. That was it, after everything we'd been through, after taking on four women in one night: just a single line message. I went alone, leaving James with the boys. I took a little grim delight in denying her the opportunity of close contact with my husband.

Jodie was waiting for me at a restaurant on the high street, sitting at an outside table in the shade of an umbrella. The timing was odd: meet at a quarter to one in the afternoon. The situation was odd too, beckoned to take a seat opposite her, but no place laid out for me. My confusion must have shown.

"You're not staying, Alice," she told me, "I'm meeting a friend here at one, might as well kill two birds with one stone."

She inclined her head, eyes fixed on me.

"So," she continued, "What did you learn from your little encounter?"

I kept silent.

"Did you learn what happens if you decide it's okay to cross me?"

Her lips twitched in a tight smile.

"We can make this as hard as you want, Alice, but in the end I'm always going to win. You have absolutely no leverage in this situation."

"Are you sure?" I fired back, to which Jodie laughed.

"Zero, and less and less every passing day. Have you figured that out yet? The videos of you two, that was just the start of it, a taster, to get you to do what I want. We're way past that now."

"That's what I want to talk about, Jodie. I want to know how we get those videos back. What do we need to do?"

"You want to do a deal? Did the little party in the spa change your thinking? Do you want to do a deal now?"

"I want to know what it would cost."

Jodie unlocked her phone and tapped on the screen. She placed it on the table in front of me, showing a video of two figures fucking on a couch.

"You can have these back for free, Alice. Is that going to make you happy?"

My eyes snapped up from the screen to her face. She was smiling at me.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. They were useful, but they've served their purpose," she replied, her tone light and conversational, but then she leaned closer.

"You see, Alice, I have something a lot better now."

I shuddered, seeing something dark in her eyes. A cold dread crept through me.

"Like what?"

"Can't you guess Alice?"

"No."

"I have your bookings."

I shook my head. "I don't understand," I replied.

"A sex tape, let's face it, is quite embarrassing. But, it's survivable, especially with your husband being a sportsman. His colleagues have done a lot worse over the years, it's a low bar. Even if he'd become a drinker, found himself pulled over to the side of the road over the limit, that's survivable. If he'd gotten himself mixed up in drugs, which is pretty common with athletes, it would make an awful scene."

Jodie paused, and I found myself genuinely afraid of what she was going to say next.

"A magazine piece, maybe even a talk show segment, you could eventually draw a line under all those things. A great deal of harm to your reputation, your family, his future career prospects, but survivable."

"Just get to the point, Jodie."

"Yes, good idea. The point, Alice, is that there was a way through all this, provided you had a high tolerance for the damage that would ensue. But now, we're a long way past that. Drinking, drugs, that's all one thing, and eventually yesterday's news, but not what you're doing now."

"And what is that?" I growled, struggling to keep my voice low and even in a public place.

"You're pimping your husband out for money, Alice. You're advertising his body for sex. What kind of woman would do that? Is she a good wife, or a fit mother?"

My mouth dropped open.

"That's right, Alice, you've gone from virtuous wife to pond scum, and that story will stick to you forever."

"And so are you," I hissed, "You're in the middle of all this."

"Oh, I don't think so. I meet up with you for coffee occasionally, or bump into you out shopping. The ad in the High Life section goes to an untraceable email address. I'm as shocked as everyone else that you're living a secret perverted life as a sex slut. You always seemed so normal, but then, it's always the quiet ones, isn't it?"

Jodie shook her head in mock disapproval.

"Why are you doing this to us?" I grated, feeling my voice shake.

"Well, as you know, it's not about the money, Alice. For my amusement, I suppose. Talking of which, Marielle was glowing in her praise of your husband. Well done. I take it she paid in full?"

I nodded tersely.

"Then I'll take my agent fee. Fifty percent. You brought it, didn't you?"

"I thought this wasn't about the money."

"It's not. It's about the look on your face as you hand over my cut."

Jodie placed a hand on the table, waiting. It took me several long seconds to dip into my handbag and pull out a small envelope. I slid it across the table to her and she covered it with her hand.

"I have your next booking. Friday night. Her name is Phoebe. I'll send you the details, and I know you'll do a good job."

Jodie hesitated, her hand still on the envelope.

"How did you enjoy your little dress-up, by the way?"

"You mean that maid costume. It was cheap and awful."

"I bet you were quite the picture in it."

I sat back, folding my arms, determined not to give her any more ammunition. The costume was still vivid in my memory: the way it stretched over my body, the cheap synthetic fabric tight against my skin, the humiliation of the hemline barely covering my crotch. Jodie was clearly revelling in my discomfort, pondering something. She pushed the envelope back towards me.

"Don't you want it?" I asked.

"Take it."

"Why?"

"I think I should invest a little, maybe rectify a problem."

"What problem?"

"You."

Jodie's finger waved in my general direction.

"You're so dowdy," she continued, "I can only imagine how it looks when you both arrive. James is naked soon enough, but that leaves you, doesn't it? You're an unwelcome distraction from the talent."

She nudged the envelope again and it fell off the table into my lap.

"Well, I think we need to get you rectified. I'm going to send you a couple of addresses. Use the money, turn up, follow the instructions. Let's see if we can't lose the housewife chic. Now, ah, hello."

Jodie looked past me, her attention fixed on someone across the restaurant.

"Time for you to scoot. My lunch date has arrived. Come on, up. We're done here."

She made little shooing motions and I got up, scanning the restaurant for a glimpse of the person she was meeting.

"Go, Alice. Now."

I turned back to Jodie, my face colouring at being dismissed so casually, but she was ignoring me now. Jodie rose from her seat and made her way across the floor, leaving me standing forgotten by the table. Our conversation was over. I ducked my head and headed in the opposite direction, back onto the street.

---

I could hear James downstairs, talking to my father. Young voices were calling out. In the middle of the commotion, my husband's tone became stern and the hubbub subsided. There were a few more words, and then I heard the front door close. The house was silent.

"You nearly ready?" James called up the stairs.

"Just a few minutes," I called back.

"We don't want to be late."

"I know," I replied, irritably.

I turned back to the mirror, staring at myself again. I unwound the towel, revealing my naked body, taking in the unfamiliar sight. Jodie had taken care of the arrangements, booking me in for a wax and a spray tan at one of the high-end places in the main street, and then the hair salon. The women who had attended me had made comments, enough for me to realise that Jodie had made the booking as if she was James, sending his wife to be pampered. The hair stylist bleached my hair, losing the red that I'd had since my earliest memories. Each time, I smiled and thanked them for their work and then I took money from the envelope and paid.

My eyes traced over my golden skin, down my bare front, stopping again at the blank space between my legs, no longer reddened from the waxing, just clean and bare. My legs and armpits were the same, stripped of all hair, but my crotch held my attention. There was something alien about being hairless for the first time since puberty, as if Jodie had managed to strip my womanhood from me. Worse, I had been unable to stop it, nodding meekly as the woman told me to lie on my back while she applied the hot wax strips.

Now, I was as she wanted me to be, my hair primped into a tight blonde bun, my makeup done, my body on display. I crossed over to the bed and unwrapped my clothes from their tissue paper.

This had been my second surprise, being directed to a specialist lingerie shop. The assistant had already been briefed. Apparently, I had already ordered online and I was there to pick up my new outfit. Once again, Jodie had made sure of every detail. I'd grabbed the bag and paid, using up the last of the money in the envelope, burning with shame as the assistant flashed me a little knowing smile.

My purchase was spread out before me. I was trying to gather the strength to put it on.

"We're going to be late," James called out to me.

"Just a minute," I called back.

Now or never. I picked up the garment, holding it against my bare skin, feeling the slickness of the material pressed against me. Jodie had arranged for me a short, clinging latex dress and matching stiletto heels, both in reflective black. I ran a hand over the slick material, shuddering. It was long-sleeved, with a plunging neckline and a built-in padding to hold my cleavage. There was no underwear: I would be bare underneath. I didn't even have stockings.

The dress was in a single piece, without a zip, and I pulled it carefully over my head, trying not to spoil my hair. It seemed to stick to me, gripping my skin, and I had to fight and tug to get it into position, pushing my breasts into the pre-formed cups, sliding my hands through the long, slick sleeves, finally pulling the dress down over my bottom.

The hem stopped mid-thigh, and I took another minute to pull and cajole the dress down, desperate for every additional inch of coverage I could wrestle from it. I could feel the air around my exposed crotch and for some reason that made me feel more naked than I had been before I'd put the dress on. Reluctantly, I slipped into the heels and turned to face myself in the mirror.

I wanted to cry. The woman staring back at me, body pressed tightly into the shiny black dress, legs bare, calves sculpted by murderously high stilettos, looked nothing like me. Her golden skin, her smoky eyeshadow, her glossy, pouty red lips: a stranger I didn't recognise. How had we come to this?

"My God."

Startled, I pivoted on my heels to find James standing in the bedroom doorway, grey eyes inspecting me. I made a move to cover myself up, but he came up to me, wrapping his fingers around my wrists, prying my arms gently away.

"Don't do that. You look beautiful."

"I look like a plastic blonde Barbie doll."

I was painfully aware that my own father was out the front of our house, bundling the boys into the car for a sleepover. If he knew what his daughter was doing upstairs, it would have broken his heart. James turned me around, making me do a spin for him.

"Do we get to keep the dress?" he asked.

"I guess."

"It would be a shame not to."

A grin spread across his face.

"James, don't. I'm not...."

"I know. But, Alice, you could stop traffic looking like that. You're stunning."

I looked into his eyes, willing myself to just let go and roll with it, forget the humiliation within at being made to look like some kind of fetish fantasy.

"I'm just, uh, I feel so embarrassed."

"No need. If there's anyone who should feel embarrassed, it's me, half an hour from now, stark naked in someone's living room."

"I don't think I can do this, James."

"You can. We can. It's easy, this time. Just one girl."

He hugged me to him.

"You're beautiful. We're going to go do this, and then I'm going to enjoy the night with you. Okay?"

"But they're going to see me, like this?"

"And they're going to weep with envy. Perfect body, perfect face," James replied, "Perfect man."

He burst out laughing and it shattered the tension. I pulled away from him, jabbing my fingers into his ribs, making him squirm.

"Hey, back off, that's abuse," he roared.

"I'll show you abuse," I countered.

James was quick, stepping around me, landing a hand on my bottom, making me jolt. I spun around but he was already out of reach, barrelling to the door.

"Too slow, Alice, too slow."

I pursued him, but he called back over his shoulder to me, "And in those heels, even walking's a liability."

"Wait 'til I get hold of you," I growled, trying to hide a smile, watching him scuttle down the stairs.

"I'll be waiting all night at this rate. Way too slow."

---

The address was halfway across the city and with the evening traffic it took us nearly an hour. Underneath my trenchcoat, the latex was clinging wetly against me as I perspired.

"Can we go cooler?" I asked, again.

"It's already freezing."

"I'm still sweating."

"I'm not."

"You're not the one covered in goddamn latex. You should try wearing this stuff."

"I'll stick to looking at it, if that's okay. Anyway, it wouldn't fit me."

"Sure? It stretches a long way."

James adjusted the aircon again and reached across to settle his large hand on my knee.

"Better?"

"Not sure. I feel like I'm marinading."

"There soon."

I crossed my legs, feeling the slickness of the perspiration on my skin. There was more to it though, something I didn't want to confess to my husband. Legs crossed, I was painfully aware of the way my thighs pressed together, compressing my bare pussy under the latex. I felt a little shiver of excitement. Perhaps James was right, perhaps we should keep the dress for later.

We pulled up in front of an apartment block in one of the more affluent suburbs. James got out, coming around to my side to open my door for me and help me out of my seat. I took his hand, steadying myself on my tall heels, straightening the tiny latex dress beneath my coat.

"Ready?" James asked.

"Uh huh."

"Okay, game time."

"James, you don't have to do that every time."

"What?"

"Game time."

"Okay."

"We're not playing the finals, we're just...."

I stopped myself, giving him a terse smile instead. We're just going upstairs to fuck a stranger and get paid for it. No, that wasn't helping. I punched a number sequence on the keypad and the door lock clicked to let us in. James called the elevator and pressed the button for the fifth floor.

"Some couples do this for fun," James said, after the doors had closed.

I blinked up at him.

"I'm just saying, it's a thing."

"Not with us," I retorted, "We're not doing this for fun."

"But what if we were?"

"James," I scowled, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Remember the night of the auction, after, when we pretended you'd bought my services. It was pretty hot."

"I remember, but I don't see how...."

"What if that's what we were doing now? Let's say we've gone onto one of those specialist dating apps, and we're about to meet up with people we've been chatting to online, people who share this lifestyle. How would that feel?"

"You feeling okay?"

"Seriously, what if that's what we're doing, and we're not just doing what Jodie set us up to do, if it's an adventure?"

"Let me get this straight," I huffed, "I'm in an elevator in a latex dress that only comes down as far as my belly button to watch my husband fuck another woman because I enjoy it?"

The elevator pinged and after a moment, the doors opened.

"I'm just saying," James replied, defensively.

"I know, I can hear you. These ears do work, you know. Which way?"

"Left. Apartment five."

James strode down the hallway while I tottered behind, cursing Jodie and her footwear choices. It was a very specific hell, inflicted by one woman on another, to be forced into six-inch heels. I caught up with him just as he knocked on the door.

"I'm just saying," he murmured, "We came here to party, like the old days, pre-kids. We're here to get wild. Can you do that?"

I didn't reply, staring at the closed door. I knew what he was saying, flipping the game in his head, looking for the angles. If we pretended, then this wasn't so bad. We were just playing roles. The awfulness went away. A chain rattled on the other side of the door and I took in a sharp breath.

"I can do that, James, let's be that."

I felt his hand in the small of my back.

"I love you, Alice."

A woman opened the door. She was older than us by about a decade, in her late forties, a fuller figure with pretty eyes and a nervousness in her movements.

My husband held out his hand, saying, "I'm James, this is Alice."

The woman looked down at his hand for a moment, then shook it, rousing from her inaction.

"I'm Phoebe. Come in."

Phoebe led us into the apartment, with James bringing up the rear. He tapped me on the shoulder, plucking the collar of my coat and I understood. Steadying my nerves, I undid my buttons and let him take my coat from me. Phoebe's eyes went wide, looking me up and down.

"Oh," she uttered, "Well."

"You have a nice place," I said, "Beautiful view."

I made a show of looking around. The apartment was open-plan, with a kitchen and dining area off to one side and what looked like bathrooms and bedroom to the other. The far side was floor-to ceiling glass, with sliding doors opening out onto a balcony overlooking the hills.

"Thank you."

We came to a halt next to the lounge suite. James folded up my coat and laid it down on the arm of a chair. Phoebe looked from my husband to me, then back to James again. We lapsed into an awkward silence.

"So," she said, "Uh, how does this work?"

"Any way you want it to," James replied smoothly.

"I've never done this."

"Perfectly fine. We can sit and talk, get to know each other a bit. We can have a few drinks if you want, or anything else you want."

"So, if I told you to get naked now, would you do that?"

"Of course."

My eyes never left my husband's face, watching him negotiate the terms of the engagement with this stranger. He was playing the game, like we'd chosen to be here, like we did this for fun. Phoebe turned to me, taking in my dress again.

"I, uh, I wasn't expecting you to wear... I mean, I feel a little underdressed."

James smiled reassuringly at her, saying, "It doesn't matter. It's only temporary anyway, isn't it?"

Phoebe stepped back, startled.

"Oh, no. Sorry, there's a... maybe this is a mistake."

I frowned, shooting a look at my husband. James nodded patiently.

"Uh, look, how about we have that drink? Do you want to take a seat? Let me get it, what'll you have?"

Phoebe told James where the drinks were and then she and I settled into the armchairs. I snuggled back, crossing my legs tightly, acutely aware of how exposed I would be in my short dress to anyone sitting opposite me. James fixed gin and tonics for us, whiskey for him, busying himself in the kitchen area. I stole a look across at James, but he just shrugged.

James returned, and I accepted my gin from him. He settled down on the couch and Phoebe seemed to take a moment to steady herself. She took a large gulp of her drink.