Hubby's Whore Ch. 04

"I love you," he said, nuzzling my neck and nibbling a little.

I giggled softly.

"I know baby," I said, "you love me fifteen hundred dollars worth."

"Patricia," he snapped and there was a sharpness in his voice that I wasn't used to, "you know you are much more to me than just this, don't you?"

I turned my head to look at him.

"I know David, and I'm sorry for that," I said, kissing him softly.

He held my blue eyes with his browns. Deep brown. And I did love him at that moment, something it's easy to forget when you've been married as long as we have.

"I have something important to ask you," he said, and when I started to say something he laid his fingers on my lips.

"Patricia, I know you hide behind your wisecracks and your wit, but this is important so please take me seriously," he said.

I leaned back far enough to look into his eyes. His use of my full name made it clear this was serious.

"Okay," I said, "you have my undivided attention."

"Last chance honey," he said, taking my hands in his, "you can stop this now. We can call yesterday a little fling and be done. But once you cross that line, once you actually decide to sell your ass, well, you'll never be the same. So you really need to think about it."

I opened my mouth to reply but he put that finger on my lips again.

"I'm serious Tricia," he said, "I love you, I will love you, nothing will change that. But you have tomorrow morning to think about this. I figure we'll head for the Sheraton on the 16th street mall about 6:00. There's a big trial lawyers conference on next week and there should be plenty of potential clients."

"Is that what they are," I said, surprised by the word, "clients?"

He laughed at that.

"Classier than 'John,' don't you think?" he said.

"Okay," I said with a giggle, "and David," I said, meeting and holding his eyes, "I have been thinking about it, believe me, I have. But I'll never know until I try."

He sighed.

"Okay toots," he said, "put your stuff away and I'll take you to dinner."

That evening was an odd combination of nerves and excitement. We did dinner and dancing followed by excellent sex.

I woke at 5:12 a.m. the next morning and couldn't get back to sleep.

I lay in the dark thinking. Was I really going to do this? Was I really, actually going to be willing to sell myself? What was I trying to prove? To whom was I trying to prove it? What if nobody wanted me?

I was suddenly sick and barely made it to the bathroom when I threw up violently.

I was startled to feel his hands on my back, rubbing gently and then holding my hair back as I retched again.

It didn't go on forever, but it felt like it.

When I was finally done I washed my face and brushed my teeth and turned to smile at him wanly.

He held out a cup of coffee and smiled.

"You've seen me before a big presentation honey," he said, "that's all this is. A little stage fright."

I giggled softly and then I took a sip of the coffee.

And realized I was absolutely famished.

"I'm starved," I said, "come on."

I padded, naked, into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Absolutely nothing looked good.

My angel tapped me on the shoulder and held out a light housedress.

"Here," he said, "put this on and we'll go to Denny's."

I giggled as I pulled the single garment over my nakedness and stopped at the door to put on a pair of flip-flops on the way out.

I felt naked and naughty as we walked into the restaurant. Fortunately, there were only a half dozen night owls in the place. And I WAS famished.

We ate in silence and I could feel him watching me.

Finally, I met his eyes and said "I know, I'm crazy, but I'm still going to do it."

He chuckled.

"Good," he said making me look at him hard.

"Seriously," he continued, "you're invested enough in this and, well, I am too, that we need to at least try."

"We?" I said.

"Yes," he said, "we. I'm in this too even if it will be your pretty ass being used."

And the ice was broken with that.

We talked through breakfast and then he took me home and let me just snuggle as I went back to sleep.

All day, as I was doing the normal life things my mind would drift to what the night would bring. I would be vacuuming and suddenly have a little panic rush wondering if I was crazy.

About 3:00 David tapped me on my shoulder, making me jump, and said "come on Tricia, time to get ready."

Again that rush. I felt the adrenaline rush and the heat in my bowels. But I took a deep breath, gave him a smile,

"Okay," I said with an audible gulp and stood and padded to the shower.

I giggled when he climbed in with me and started washing my back. It was companionable and fun rather than sensual.

Washed and scrubbed, shampooed, conditioned. all squeaky clean, I started at the top. Hair first. Fluffed, not too big but, well, big and wavy and obvious. Just like my flaming hairdresser had shown me.

Then down to the face. I carefully applied the makeup per the directions that the makeup girl at the salon had shown me. Eyebrows carefully plucked and then penciled. Lashes mascaraed and curled. I toyed with the idea of false eyelashes and thought "nah." A nice pale blue eye shadow and eyeliner to give me to slightest of an "exotic" uptilt to the corners. Light base and blush and a bright flamingo pink lipstick and step back and inspect.

Pretty damn good I thought.

Working down now.

The new black bra was first. I adjusted my boobs and made sure the nipples pointed in the right direction. Then the garter belt and nylons, taking time to make sure the seam was ruler-straight. The panties next.

I slipped the bright blue top over my head and then the black skirt with its fringed bottom. I put on those new black shoes with the white tops, thinking "saddle shoes" as I did. I inspected my nails as I did and found them still looking pretty much perfect.

I put on small gold hoop earrings, not too gaudy, a very gaudy semi-precious stone bracelet, and finished the look with a gaudy turquoise necklace.

I took a very deep breath and walked to my full-length dressing mirror.

And thought "SHIT, I look good."

I almost shit my pants when I heard the sound of slow clapping.

I turned and David was standing there, just looking. He actually looked kind of proud.

"Oooooooooh yeah," he said, "you're definitely worth it."

It was 4:30 then and he sat me down at the kitchen table and we talked about the nuts and bolts of how things would work. We sat there for almost an hour and discussed the details. Who would do what. Who would sit where? How things would be handled.

I laughed when he showed me the little gadget he had for his cell phone.

"Credit card?" I said, seriously amazed.

"Yep," he said, and slid a stack of papers across the table with those little stick-on arrows that said "sign here" or "initial here."

"What in the world is this?" I asked.

"Congratulations," he said with a smile, "You are a 40% partner in Morgan and Morgan LLC. The credit card bill will show that as the payee, and the 'services' notation will read 'marketing consultation.' Hell, if the guy is sharp he should be able to take it off of his taxes."

I initialed and signed where it was indicated, giggling all the time.

And when I looked up it was 5:30 and time to go.

And oddly enough, I wasn't nervous.

I put the red underwear set along with shoes and that guaranteed wrinkle-proof little black dress into my slightly oversized Vera Bradley bag, gave my hair a few final touches in the mirror, took a deep breath, and headed downstairs.

David surprised me by standing there with a pretty bright red flower in his hand and when I stopped and looked at him he very carefully and wonderfully gently put the flower into the side of my hair.

He stepped back and grinned at me.

"Okay baby," he said, offering me his arm, "let's put my beautiful moneymaker out there."

We went to the car where he opened the door for me and off we went.

There weren't just butterflies in my stomach, there were crows. No, there were full-grown turkeys. I was so nervous I thought I would throw up.

And then there we were, pulling into the parking garage.

When he came around the car to open the door for me I just sat there for a minute, frozen.

"We can still call it off," he said softly.

That got me moving. I got out of the car, took a deep breath, and then took his arm and we headed for the elevator that would take us up to the lobby. I deliberately put a little extra swing in my hips as we walked. I was remembering some movie I had seen with a hooker as the heroine and I was self-consciously trying to match that stride.

As we had planned, he took a seat at one of the little tables and I went to the bar and took one of the stools.

I reminded myself to breathe and ordered a Mai Tai. David had done, as he always did, some research and had decided that a Mai Tai was almost as good as advertising a working girl's (I was already starting to think of myself as a working girl) availability.

And then I sat, feeling like a used car, trying to watch the action in the bar in the back-bar mirror. I would sip the drink but I certainly didn't want to be getting drunk.

My first approach was a very young man, very good-looking, almost pretty. He slid onto the barstool next to mine and grinned at me, a very winning grin that made me think he must have practiced it in the mirror extensively.

"Buy you a drink?" he said.

I looked at him and, well, the only way to say it is nothing "clicked."

"Sorry sweety," I said, "I'm waiting for someone" which, of course, was technically true but not quite what I wanted him to think.

He looked mildly unhappy but just said, "okay, sorry, have a good night" and moved off.

I glanced over at David and he was sipping his beer and gave me a little two-finger salute.

I waited some more, slowly relaxing.

The next pass was a guy about my age who was just too much. He was almost a caricature with his shirt open two buttons, gold chains, gold watch, and bleached teeth.

"Hey baby, come here often?" he opened with.

"No," I said, "and I'm waiting for someone." I was getting good with that line.

"Awwww," he said, flashing an overbright grin, "I'd be better."

I turned to face him squarely.

"No thanks," I said and turned away.

He took the hint and left muttering "bitch" softly but I chose to ignore that.

And then he was there and I knew he was the one. I guessed him at around 60. Steel grey hair. A bit thick but obviously in shape. Tanned but not a salon tan. He obviously spent time outside. A great smile, no bleach. And an absolutely wonderful voice as he moved next to me putting one foot up on the bar rail.

"Are you available," he asked and I couldn't help but smile at his confidence and his voice and, well, all of him.

"I am," I said, surprising myself at how calmly I said it, "you need to talk to my," and here I hesitated for a second, "my manager," I said and indicated David with a nod of my head.

He turned slowly and looked to see David give one of those little two-finger salutes.

He turned back to me then, deliberately looking me up and down. I met his eyes although those butterflies were really going wild in my belly.

Then he smiled.

"I think I'll do that," he said and walked over to David.

I didn't want to turn around so I watched in the mirror as he sat across the little table from David and they started talking.

My hand was trembling a little as I lifted the drink and I took a bit more of a sip than I probably should have.

I watched and felt a sudden rush of adrenaline as I saw a credit card pass between them and then the quick flash of David's cellphone camera.

He came back to sit on the stool next to me and ordered "whatever's on tap" from the bartender. Then he took a healthy drink of his beer and turned to me.

Meanwhile, David had come up to the bar, handed me a small slip of paper, and left.

I was on my own, my only real protection was knowing that David had taken a picture of this guy's driver's license, had scanned his credit card, and taken his picture. I almost ran out right then but that voice captured me again.

"I am Chester," he said and when I turned back to him he had his hand out.

I took it in an almost pavlovian response and said "Patricia. Call me Patty."

"Very pleased to meet you," he said, "and I am Chet to the world."

And the smile I returned was genuine.

"Of course," I said and realized I was blushing a little.

"What sort of dinner would you like?" he asked. "It's your town and I don't know any place."

I thought about that for a second, using the time to take another sip of the strong drink.

"Do you like Greek?" I asked.

"I'm just a simple Midwestern boy," he said, "but I'll try pretty much anything."

"Well," I said, "there are no good Greek places within walking distance but I know the best place in Denver and it's only a short cab ride away."

He drained his glass and stood.

"Drink up beautiful," he said, "I'm starved."

I liked the way he was comfortable with me so I drained the drink and got off of the stool and immediately realized I had probably made a mistake. It was a strong drink and I hadn't eaten much. I was feeling that drink.

"Are you okay?" he said, taking my arm, not possessively but supportively which I appreciated.

"A little light-headed," I said, flashing a sort of smile, "a strong drink, and I'm hungry."

He chuckled and turned back to the bar.

"Bartender," he called, "a glass of cold milk, quickly."

The milk helped and I steadied down.

The cab ride was short and I mostly pointed out the landmarks. There the Capitol building. There the Art Museum. And so on until we got to the restaurant.

We ordered wine and the "house" sampler.

Dinner was enjoyable. I learned that Chet was an engineer and laughed that he looked the part.

"But I thought this was a trial lawyer's convention," I said.

He chuckled and said, "Big hotel, Patty. I think there's also a school administrator's convention going on."

He was in town for a conference on waterway control which wasn't as boring as it sounded the way he explained it.

He had good stories about places he had been and a wonderful sense of humor.

When the obligatory folk dancing started with plenty of calls of "o-pa" it turned out he was light on his feet too, and we joined the dance with abandon.

And when we sat to nibble on the goodies he leaned over and said, very softly, so that only I could hear, "you know what would be nice? If you went into the bathroom and when you came back gave me your bra."

I looked at him sidelong and smiled.

Without another word I got up, picked up my little clutch, and went into the bathroom. This was the first chance I had had to actually look at the little slip of paper he had given me. It was a little checkoff form, in our little code so that if it was taken by the police it wouldn't be too obvious what it was.

I ran down the list. The check by the "C" meant the credit card had cleared. The "D" meant that David got a good scan for the Driver's License. The "P" meant a picture was now on file. And then there were the "extras," two of which were checked. The "A" meant anal and the "S" meant, and I got a little rush of adrenaline when I saw it checked, that he had paid the extra to spank me.

I sat and peed and took several deep breaths before working my bra off in the double-jointed way every girl learns when she gets her first training bra. I wiped carefully and then got up and washed my hands and went to the table, my bra in my hand. I wasn't hiding it, but I wasn't being obvious either.

He smiled when I handed it to him and said "thank you" very softly as he slipped it into his pocket.

For the rest of the night, I felt more naked than if I didn't have any clothes on and thought I'd have to remember this trick. I tried to stay off of the booze, but it was flowing freely and I was definitely getting lit.

Nevertheless, when eleven o'clock rolled around it was definitely time to go.

In the cab, on the way home I sort of leaned against him and he put his arm around me. I couldn't decide if we looked like two teenagers heading home from a date or an old married couple. Either way, at that point, was fine with me.

I had thought I might be, I don't know, embarrassed? Nervous? Something when I went with him up to his room. But I didn't. Well, I was pretty sure that the desk clerk took a second look, but I didn't let it bother me.

Up in his room, I was finally somewhere that I had a script to work from.

He reached for me but I held him away.

"Wait a minute honey," I said, not trying to be coquettish but also wanting to give off some sort of, well, I guess I was striving for "innocence."

I went over to the room clock radio, a fairly high-end unit in this expensive hotel, and plugged my iPod into the "aux" plugin on the back. When I hit PLAY Peggy Lee's version of "Fever" started playing and that was my cue to start the act I had worked out.

I walked over to him and started unbuttoning his shirt. When he reached for me I spatted his hand and said, as softly as I could, "no baby, let me do all of the work tonight."

He smiled and let his hand fall to his side.

I slowly unbuttoned his shirt, taking my time, lightly kissing the skin I revealed with each button. When I had his shirt off I held his eyes while I got slowly to my knees to take one foot at a time on my lap, untie and remove his shoes and his socks. I liked the way his breath caught as I unbuttoned and unzipped him and then slowly worked his slacks off, leaving him in only his shorts. Tidy whities, I noted with approval.

I kissed his navel as I started slowly rolling the shorts down, making a tight little band down his thighs and his knees, and then feeling his hands on my shoulders for balance as he did that awkward little two-step to step out of them.

He was still in good shape for his 60-something years. A bit of a belly but certainly not obese. Some sag and wrinkles, but not terrible. And I figured I was doing a good job when I saw his erection standing proudly, pointing straight up his body. I bent and kissed the shaft softly, drawing another little gasp.

I stood and took a couple of steps back. By then Julie London was just starting into "Cry Me A River" which was good music for the slow strip I did. I HAD been practicing, and it paid off. First I unbuttoned and unzipped the skirt letting it fall and pool around my feet. I had picked up the rhythm by then and my hips were swaying with the music. The garter belt, panties, nylons, and mildly high heels along with the blue top left me feeling naked already.

It wasn't a stripper uniform and so I had that awkward moment while I unhooked and peeled the nylons down, kicking off my shoes to do so. But then I was back at the dance and looking pretty good if I do say so. The top came off leaving me in only my garter belt and panties and then I went over and kissed him. I liked the way he watched me.

"One minute honey," I whispered and went into the bathroom, making sure to put plenty of swing into my ass as I walked away.

In the bathroom, I peeled off the belt and panties and got quickly into my purse for the tube of Vaseline I had there. I generously lubricated my anus, remembering what he had paid for, gave my hair a quick brushing, and went back to him, naked and available.

I went to the chair that was sitting under the little desk and took it over and put it in front of him and lifted his feet using the other chair as a footstool. He was watching me with a quizzical look on his face. He was also fully erect.

I held his eyes with mine as I straddled him slowly and then even more slowly lowered myself down, guiding him into my pussy. I was wet. No, I was beyond wet to slick, and I relaxed so that he slipped in easily. When he was fully inside of me, my ass resting on his thighs, I squeezed, using my vaginal muscles to try to pull him even deeper, and that brought a sharp little gasp from him.