I Married a Retired Escort

Men and women meet in a variety of ways. Some involve activities designed for introducing people like singles bars and dating services. Others aren't such as jobs; there people interact for business reasons. Chance meetings are rather scarce.

Ellen and I met when I was one of her customers. She was a prostitute. She wasn't a streetwalker, a sidewalk sweetheart. She was an escort, a call girl. I had dealt with whores before, but she was completely different from any I had known before. Before you judge her on her past occupation, let me tell you a few things.

Ellen is a beautiful woman. She stands five foot six barefoot and weighs 112 pounds. Her figure is fantastic. Her breasts are firm 34Ds, no sagging whatsoever. She has high cheekbones, sparkling deep blue eyes, long, natural shiny blonde hair, and a smile warm enough to melt the polar ice caps. She has a dancer's firm shapely legs. Quite simply she is gorgeous. She's not the stereotypical dumb blonde, although she is very good of playing the part when the occasion warrants.

As I said, I met her as one of her customers. To this day, I am still amazed that we fell in love and got married.

I was horny as hell the night I called the escort agency. The only thing I had I mind was getting laid. The girl I talked to on the phone said she'd send her most beautiful girl in an about an hour. Friday nights were always busy. I stripped, put on my bathrobe, and watched tv while I waited.

About half an hour later the wind picked up. A squall line was about to come through. Fifteen minutes later the rain began. With a strong wind driving it, the large drops splattered against the windows. The whole house was shaking. I thought it would be very inconsiderate to ask someone to come out in such a storm because I was horny. As I looked for the agency's phone number, the doorbell rang. I ran to the door and opened it. "Hi, I'm Ellen," she said, "from the agency."

"Come in quick," I said. She dashed in and I closed the door. She looked like the proverbial drowned rat. Water was flowing out of her hair. Her dress was completely soaked, and I could see she wasn't wearing any underwear. I dashed to the linen closet and brought back a couple bath towels.

"I was about to call and cancel so you wouldn't have to be out in this mess," I said as apologetically as I could. "I hope you don't get sick."

"You didn't make it rain," she said as she dried her hair. "I should have had my umbrella and raincoat in my car. I'm sorry to be making such a mess of your house. If I had been properly prepared, this wouldn't have happened."

"You're wrong. I did make it rain. I waxed my car today."

She giggled. "Where's your mop? I want to clean up this puddle I made."

"Don't worry about it. Let's get you out of these wet clothes before you catch a cold. I'll throw them in the dryer so they will be ready by the time you leave."

She wrapped her hair in one towel, then stripped off her dress and handed it to me. When I returned to the foyer, she had the second towel wrapped around her chest covering her breasts. "Please let me clean this up," she pleaded. "Your time won't begin until I call the office."

I relented and got my mop and pail. She took the mop and started cleaning up the puddle. As she leaned over to press the mop's sponge down to make it draw up the water, the towel under her arms popped loose and started to fall. She immediately tried to hold the towel in place and hang onto the mop at the same time. The mop she held onto, but the towel dropped to the floor. She dropped the mop, which fell to the floor with a loud bang, and desperately grabbed for the towel. She tried to hold the towel to her chest with one hand and pick up the mop with the other. In her frantic haste, she slipped on the wet floor and fell. Hurrying to her side to help her up, my feet flew out from under me, and I landed on my butt. I slowly sat up. Seeing her hold the towel in front of herself made me realize my genitals were full exposed. I started to close the robe, then stopped. "Why are we being so modest," I said, "when we are going to be naked in a few minutes anyway."

"You're right," she said and dropped the towel. "Are you okay?"

"I'll live. How about you?"

"I'm probably going to have a bruise on my ass. Everyone will think you spanked me."

"I've heard of guys falling for girls, but this is ridiculous."

"Girls fall for guys, too. What is your name?"

"John."

She smiled. "John?"

"Yes. Would you like to see my driver's license?"

"I'm supposed to compare the name on your credit card with the name on your license, so, yes, I would like to see it."

"You need to be sure I'm not using a stolen card?" She nodded her head. "Makes sense." I got to my feet and helped her up. I led her to the living room, then went to the bedroom to get my wallet. My right hip was aching when I returned to the living room.

"John, you're hurt!" she cried and jumped up to help me. She put her hand on her left hip and yelped in pain.

"Sit down," I said slowly walking to the sofa. I sat down beside her. I handed her my license and credit card.

She starting dialing, then stopped. She put her hand on my shoulder and looked into my eyes. "Maybe we should do this some other time when you're not limping so badly."

"You aren't doing very well either." She smiled faintly. "What are you going to do until your hip is better? You're in no shape to be working."

"I can put up with the pain. Customers shouldn't have to."

"I guess you don't have any medical insurance."

She looked down at my license and credit card on the coffee table. "No," she said softly. She seemed very sad.

"I'll leave it up to you. I feel bad enough having you come out in this awful weather. I don't want to cause you anymore pain. How about this? I'll pay for an hour. We can sit here and moan and groan in agony. It will take that long for your dress to dry."

She smiled and put her arms around my shoulders. "You are so sweet. I want to do right by you. I'll give you my cellphone number. Call me when you're feeling better so we can actually do something."

"When we feel better," I corrected her. "You can call me too. Now you call your office so they don't worry about you." I kissed her forehead. She gazed into my eyes, then kissed me softly on my lips.

"John...." she whispered.

When she didn't continue, I said, "Yes?"

"Nothing. It was just a silly schoolgirl fantasy." She called her office.

I watched in fascination as her beautiful boobs rose and fell with her breathing. I was totally enamored with this lovely creature. The pain in my hip chilled my libido completely, but I still wanted her in my arms. When she put her phone away, she curled up against me and laid her head on my shoulders. I put my arms around her and snuggled up against her. We sat on the sofa in silence. I wanted very much to ask her about herself, her education, her family, but I had been with enough escorts to know it would be unprofessional for her to discuss her personal life and rude for me to inquire. I picked up the remote and turned the tv to a classical music concert. "I love Mozart," she said softly.

The program ended just before my hour with her was over. I got her dress from the dryer while she took the towel off her hair and brushed it out. After she dressed I walked her to the door. She got out a piece of paper and wrote down her cellphone number. "Call me when you feel okay," she said. "I'll consider tonight an advance payment." I adjusted my robe and tied the sash before opening the door. The storm had abated; the sky was clear; and the moon was shining. "What are you doing?"

"I'm walking you to your car," I said.

"But you're hurt!"

"It's okay. I have a desk job, but I should walk around to keep from getting too stuff." I don't know which of us supported the other, but we made the short walk to her car with a great deal of effort. We stood in the moonlight and kissed before she opened her car door and gently seated herself behind the wheel. "I'll call," I promised.

"Good night, sweet prince," she said. I kissed her again and closed the car door.

Saturday was a day of total agony. My right hip was completely black, and I could hardly walk. Every step sent a stab of pain down my leg. After eating a bowl of cereal I settled down on the sofa to spend the day watching television. Around noon, I got up. After a trip to the bathroom, I made my way to the kitchen to make a sandwich. I had just sat down to eat when the phone rang. "Hello," I said.

"Hi, John," a sweet feminine voice said. "It's Ellen. I just wanted to find out how you are doing."

"My leg hurts like hell, but I'll live. How are you doing?"

"I won't be working tonight. My hip looks like a lump of coal. I should sue you for lost income."

"What are you talking about? I told you to let me do the mopping."

"Yes, but the floor wouldn't have been wet if you hadn't waxed your car."

I had to laugh. "You had me going for a second. Have you had anything to eat?"

"I haven't gotten out of bed yet. What are you doing?"

"Nothing important. Watching some tv. Let me buy you lunch."

"I'm not supposed to date customers. Conflict of interest."

"Since we haven't done anything yet, I'm not really a customer."

"I suppose that's true."

"Where do you live?"

"I'd rather not give you my address. I'll come over to your house, and we can go out from there. Give me about an hour. I'm not moving very quickly."

"I'm pretty slow too. See you about one?"

"Okay."

I dumped my sandwich in the trash and hobbled to the bedroom to get dressed. Although it was Saturday, I felt compelled to put on a suit. There was something about Ellen that exuded class. She may have made her living on her back, but she wasn't a cheap tramp either. I wanted to impress her, something I'd not had any desire to do with any other woman for a couple years.

At five minutes before one, I went outside to wait for her. I noticed the grass was getting tall. It would have to wait. My hip wasn't up to mowing the lawn. I had more important plans for that afternoon. I had a date with Ellen. I didn't know her last name or where she lived or her phone number. All I knew was her first name, and that her occupation was the world's oldest profession. She was beautiful and smart and beautiful and tender and beautiful and she liked me and she was gorgeous.

She arrived at one o'clock. I used her car's fender as a crutch as I made my way to the driver's door to open it. The sight of her took my breath away as she stepped out. She wore a light blue cocktail dress that came to mid-thigh and had a low neckline with matching high heeled sandals. It as obvious she was not wearing a bra, nor did she need one. "My, aren't you handsome," she said as she put her arms around my neck.

I put my arms around her waist and pulled her tightly against me. "You're looking pretty good yourself," I said. Our lips met for a brief kiss. "How's your leg?"

"I'll probably limp for a few days."

"Let's not strain it any more than necessary," I said as I scooped her up in my arms. I carried her around to the passenger side of my car and put her down. I opened the door, and she got in.

I took her to a restaurant best known for its dark intimate atmosphere. Despite her protests and the pain in my right leg, I insisted on carrying her inside to our table. Naturally, we were the center of attention as the maître d' led us to the table. She was a bit tense at first, but after a few steps she relaxed and put her head on my shoulder until it was time to put her down.

After we ordered, our conversation turned to the previous evening's events. She seemed very much at ease in the restaurant as though she was accustomed to suck romantic surroundings. I did my best to refrain from prying into her personal and professional lives. Soon she was dropping tidbits like "when I was in college" and "my brother." I filed remarks like those away in my brain. I was enchanted by her. She was beautiful beyond measure, witty, smart, educated. She dribbled out much of her background. Anyone not intent on learning as much as possible about her would have missed most of what she said. Her family was 500 miles away; she had one brother, no sisters, a degree in marketing, no boyfriend, no women friends. She was alone and very lonely and had been for the two years she had been hooking.

Two short hours later we got up to leave. I reached down to pick her up, but she stopped me. "Please, I need to walk or I'll stiffen up too much," she said. Reluctantly I let her limp to the door. My own leg hurt, too, so I wasn't too adverse to letting her walk. Our parking space was in front of the restaurant, so the hike was a short one. When we got back to my house, I parked the car in the driveway and dashed as quickly as my bad leg allowed to the passenger door. She gripped my arm to steady herself as she stood up. "I can't believe how stiff I am. I expected to be sore and have a bruise, but this is ridiculous."

"It sounds like you could use a maid," I said.

"I wish I could afford one."

"How about a butler?"

She smiled. "I know what you're thinking. Thank you, but I'll take care of myself." Her leg gave out and she started to fall. I grabbed her and held her up. Immediately I picked her up and carried her to the front door of the house. My keys were still in my hand. I had her take them and unlock the door. I took her to the sofa and laid her down. "What am I going to do? I can't stay here."

"Why not? This is a big house. There's plenty of room."

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Why shouldn't I? You're beautiful, sweet, caring. You're everything I've been looking for in a woman."

"Because...." She hesitated a moment. "Because I'm a whore. I'm not the kind of girl you want to take home to your mother."

"Ellen, nobody is just one thing. You're a sister, a daughter, an aunt, a college graduate, a licensed driver. Besides, I have to keep you from suing me somehow."

She smiled. "You are the sweetest man I've ever known, but I don't want to impose on you."

I pulled up the ottoman and sat beside her. "I could use the company. I haven't had a girlfriend for two years. If this house wasn't such a good investment, I'd live in a studio apartment."

"That's what I live in. It's very confining. Seriously, John, I'm not the right girl for you."

"You've just proved how caring you are. You are more concerned about me than you are about yourself. I think you are as lonely as I am."

She smiled again and put her hand on my arm. "Okay, I'll spend the night. I'll sleep here so I won't be crowding you in your own home."

"I have two queen-size beds, so you have lots of choices."

"You sweet, charming, wonderful man. You don't want to fall in love with me."

"Somehow I suspect you are afraid you'll fall in love with me."

She looked away. "I am," she said very softly. She looked back at me. "John, I'm terrified."

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"Not of you. It's me I'm afraid of. I haven't had a boyfriend since college. I don't know how to be a girlfriend anymore. I know how to be a lover, how to be a piece of ass, but...."

I picked up her hand and held it in mine. Her expression was a mix of fear and pleading. I kissed the back of her hand. "I haven't been a boyfriend for a long time. I'm out of practice too."

"So what do we do?"

I moved onto the sofa being very careful not to touch her hip and drew her up and put my arms around her. She rested her head on my shoulder and put her arms around my neck.

I don't know how long we sat holding each other. Our lips met gently several times. Her bosom felt wonderful against my chest. It wasn't erotic, just comfortable like it belonged there. Some time later I kissed her neck, and she kissed mine. I made no effort to seduce her. I knew she was mine, and that we would be together for a long time, perhaps forever. I wanted it to be forever. A tear touched my cheek. I took out my handkerchief and dried her eyes. She took it from my hand to dry my face. Our arms went back around each other. This time we embraced, and our mouths met with passion and love. When I picked her up to carry her to the bedroom, her eyes locked on mine. Carefully I picked my way around the furniture as I held my most previous cargo in my arms. She kicked off her shoes at the edge of the bed, and I carefully laid her down. She sat up and removed her dress. Her large firm breasts were flawless. She laid back and pulled her panties down exposing the huge ugly bruise on her hip. I winced when I saw that black spot. After drawing the covers over her I stripped out of my clothes and crawled between the sheets beside her.

We laid on our uninjured sides and held each other tightly. My right hand explored her back and left side down to her waist. I kissed her chin, her long neck, her throat. Her breathing slowed and became deeper as my mouth traced a trail from her left shoulder across her throat to the right. I rose slightly and began to caress her right breast with my lips. Slowly I kissed circles around that lovely mound gradually working my way closer to the nipple. Her left hand was on my neck, and she watched my progress intently. She let out a small gasp when my lips brushed across the tip of her nipple. I ran my tongue around that stiff protuberance, and her breath came in short pants. Her left breast received the same treatment.

Rising to my knees, I placed long, firm kisses on each of her ribs. I started to kiss her abdomen. "That tickles," she giggled. I continued my mouth action on her tummy, and she began to laugh. Her hands were on my head, but she made no attempt to pull me away. When I arrived at her crotch, I saw her labia were swollen, and that her slit was open. With one quick movement I went from her tummy to her snatch. My tongue probed for her clit. Her laughter ceased instantly. I encircled her clit with my lips and sucked gently on it. Her hands were in my hair. I hummed a low note. Her thighs clamped against my head, and her hands tore at my hair. I stopped until she released her grip, then hummed again. Once more she climaxed and pinned my ears to my skull. This time I continued my humming. Her entire body trembled as passion completely overwhelmed her. She tugged at my hair. "Get up here," she pleaded. I climbed over her. She hooked her left arm around my neck and pulled my mouth to hers while she led my raging hardon to her steaming pussy with her right hand. I slid all the way into her. She hooked her ankles behind my back and began thrusting urgently against me. I struggled to match her pace. Her face was contorted with lust. "Give it to me," she growled. Her pussy muscles tightened as she screamed. I continued pumping in and out of her pussy as rapidly as I could. My nuts rose and tightened. As my first contraction shot my seed into her womb, her love muscles clamped down. Every time I fired a wad of cum, her muscular tunnel became tighter and tighter until she was forcing me out.

I laid atop her gasping for breath. She alternated between panting and laughing. She squeezed her arms around me and wept with happiness. I stayed atop her for half an hour before rolling off onto my side. "I want to tell you something," she said softly. "My name is Martha Ellen Harris."

"Martha Ellen Harris," I repeated slowly. "That's a beautiful name." I paused a moment. "I believe Martha Ellen Smith sounds better."

"John Alfred Smith, is that a proposal?"

"Yes. Yes!"

"The courthouse opens at nine on Monday."

"Wait a minute. I'm supposed to meet your family and ask your father for your hand and all that other stuff."

"Forget that other stuff. John, I love you. I can't wait to be your wife." She was crying, and so was I. "Where's the phone? I have to call the office and retire."