It's Strictly Business

It's Strictly Business

I was binge-reading HDK, and woke up in the middle of the night with this story in my head. The premise is a little far-fetched, but this debacle (and my ruined night's sleep) are still all his fault.

Thanks to Bry1977 for the beta-read and suggestions.

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Goddamn Wuhan.

When we all got quarantined, my wife was rather unceremoniously downsized (air quotes) from her job as an aerobics instructor at our local gym. Fortunately, as a computer programmer, I could transition to working from home, and we were able to scrape by.

How did a geek like me wind up married to a woman fit (and hot) enough to teach aerobics? I wonder that myself. But I accept that she loves me, and I don't let it eat at me; there really are such things as self-fulfilling prophecies.

Anyway, when things eventually started to open back up, her previous employer had closed completely, and competition was fierce for jobs at the remaining gyms and spas that had managed to stay open. She looked and looked, but had no luck in finding anything in her field.

Things were getting a little tense around the house. Monica was frustrated at not being able to contribute, and took it out on me. She knew she was doing it too, and would alternate between snapping at me and then clinging to me, saying she was sorry for being such a bitch. I offered to forgive her in exchange for make-up sex. She grinned and jumped on me.

Then, through a friend of a friend, she heard about this new job hosting "adult products" parties.

"I think it could be a good opportunity, Harold," she told me one evening.

"Well... I don't know, Monica. Sex parties?"

"They're not sex parties, sweetie. It's like Tupperware, just with sexy lingerie and vibrators and things. It's just for women."

"I'm still not sure. What would be involved, exactly?"

"Well, there's a website where women sign up to request a party. My job would be to meet with them, explain the process, help set up the party, and of course demonstrate the products. Then I'd get a commission based on my sales."

"I'm really uncomfortable with this, Monica. I need to think about it."

She fidgeted, looking down. "I'm sorry Harold, I already accepted the job."

Well fuck me. "So, you're telling me. Not asking. What happened to discussing these big decisions?"

She could see I was a little peeved. "I said I was sorry Harold, but let's face it; you know how hard I've been looking, and we need the money, if we're ever going to start a family."

All talk of children had been pushed to the back burner when she was laid off, so I was actually glad to hear her mention it.

But... "Are you kidding me? A pregnant lady demonstrating sex toys? Hah!"

She gave me a hurt look. "I'd just do this until I can find something more permanent. Then we can start thinking about kids."

I sighed in resignation. "So, what happens next?"

"Next week, I have to go in for training on how the process works, and the whole business side. Then I'll act as an assistant to an experienced hostess for a few parties, then I go out on my own." She seemed to be pretty excited about it, and she was very affectionate that night, riding me like a woman possessed, then falling asleep with her hand wrapped around my very satisfied dick.

The next morning, I did have one concern. "Honey, isn't it gonna be weird if you run into women you know?"

She nodded. "Already thought of that. I told the company that I was only going to schedule parties in the city, so the chances are pretty slim of meeting anyone we know. They actually agreed that was a good idea."

"Hmmph." And I went to mow the lawn.

The whole next week, Monica was wrapped up in her training. She even brought homework; she looked so studious, tapping away at her laptop. I got to live out some 'sexy student' fantasies that week! Then it was time for her to go out with a senior hostess.

I raised an eyebrow as the short skirt and low-cut top she was wearing, and she said I was being silly. "It's all women, baby, and besides, I have to look sexy; otherwise, I wouldn't have any credibility!"

I guess she had a point.

There must have been some pretty racy stuff going on at those parties, because Monica would come home and attack me afterwards. I was starting to think this might not be such a bad idea! But after a few weeks on her own, she seemed to be getting a little depressed.

When I asked her what was wrong, she told me she wasn't making as much money as she'd hoped. I tried to boost her confidence, telling her she was just getting started and things would pick up.

She thanked me for being so supportive, and she would figure something out. Apparently, she did, because after another month or two, her depression seemed to disappear.

With it, our sex life also began to change, though. Strangely, she didn't jump my bones after her parties anymore, but she more than made up for it on other nights. She was more affectionate than she ever had been before, giving me little touches, and wanting to cuddle all the time, and telling me that she loved me.

I thought life couldn't get any better.

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I was still working from home, but I had started going back to the office half-time. One morning, I was pleasantly surprised to see Maggie, one of my coworkers, stick her head into my cubicle. She asked if we could have lunch.

"Sure, Maggie, just let me finish up what I have in front of me, and I'll meet you in the cafeteria?"

"Actually, Harold, this needs to be private. I'd like to go to the Dew Drop; if that's okay?" It was an odd request. The Dew Drop was dark, with secluded booths, and it was a popular spot for, well, dark and secluded things.

"I don't know, Maggie, I'm not sure if Bob will be too happy about that," I teased. Bob was Maggie's husband, and a good friend. Monica and I hung out with them regularly.

She didn't respond to my gentle gibe, which was odd. Normally we enjoyed some semi-flirty banter, knowing it was all in fun.

But this time, she just said, "Meet you in the lobby at 12:30?"

"Okay, Mags," I said, pensively.

When we got to the restaurant, there was someone else waiting for us.

Maggie said, "Harold, you remember Bob's sister Jessica?"

"Sure, hi Jess, how are you?"

To my surprise, she looked near tears. "Jessica? What's wrong?" I looked at Maggie in confusion.

It was Jessica who spoke. "I'm so sorry Harold, I didn't know what to do..."

Maggie chimed in. "You know Jess lives in town, right?" When I nodded, she continued. "Well, she was invited to one of those adult products party last weekend." Maggie eyed me significantly. "She was telling me about it, and, well, once she described things, it became pretty clear that Monica was the hostess."

"Yeah? Wow, small world. She's been doing pretty well at it lately. So... what happened that has you so upset?" I asked gently.

Maggie continued to talk. "Do you know a lot about the parties?"

"No, not a lot... just some lingerie and relatively tame sex toys, from what she has told me. Nothing too hardcore."

She seemed to choke a little when I said 'hardcore.' "Well, I guess we need to show you."

Jessica pulled a phone out of her purse. "You understand, I didn't know who she was?" It was a true, although a little odd - in all the time we'd been friends with Bob and Maggie, Monica and Jessica had never met.

Anyway, I nodded, and she continued. "At the beginning of the party, she asked if we would all please pass her our cell phones, just for the duration of the event. I didn't even think; I handed her my work cell. I still had my personal in my purse. When she started... Well, I couldn't resist. It so bizarre, more like a lecture than a performance.

"What are you trying to say?" I was getting more and more confused.

"Okay let me tell you how it started, and then I'll show you what I recorded.

"At first, it seemed pretty normal. Monica greeted all the guests, then engaged in some chit chat while Tamara; that's my friend who was hosting, passed around some wine. Monica worked the room, encouraging everyone to talk about what they were hoping to get out of the party. There was a lot of giggling and innuendo. I was really impressed at how your wife was able to get the women to open up. Several of them revealed rather tame fantasies, and there was more giggling. We'd all had a couple glasses of wine, and everyone was pretty relaxed. Then she announced that it was time to get started.

"She went into the bathroom, and I know we were all looking around, a little confused. Then... I know my eyes popped out when she came out wearing a sheer robe, and she very clearly had nothing on underneath.

"She's really beautiful," Jessica added.

"Anyway, she started showing some products. She began with lingerie. Various styles of chemises, negligees, teddys, panties, and g-strings. Whenever anyone expressed interest in an item, she showed no compunction in dropping the robe and modeling the garment for them. She walked around the room, making sure everyone could see and feel the material.

"Then it started to get a little more risqué. After the clothing, she started pulling out various devices, which she demonstrated on herself. Handcuffs and nipple clamps first, then she moved on to different types of vibrators. She very calmly explained the various attributes of each. It was so peculiar; she sounded like a college professor, as she used them on herself."

"Wait, what? On herself?"

Jessica nodded.

"The last one was a bullet vibrator, which she pushed into her vagina while spreading her legs wide so everyone could clearly see, as she explained how to operate the remote. I think she felt that one, because she did close her eyes briefly and smile as she turned it up."

Holy fuck, I was thinking. When did Monica become such an exhibitionist?

"After she removed the bullet, she brought out a set of butt plugs. It was a set of five, in gradually increasing diameters. She explained how to progress from one to the next, to prepare a woman's ass for anal sex. She pushed the smallest one in, then turned her butt toward us. I heard her tell the group that it was perfectly safe to wear it around all day if they wanted! She pulled it out, and several I heard several of the women gasp when they saw her slightly gaping ass.

"I was kind of hoping she was done, when... she pulled a small silicone ring from the bag beside her, and asked if anyone knew what it was.

"We all stared at it raptly, but no one spoke.

"'This is a cock ring,' she said. She looked around, as the women whispered.

"She picked up her phone and hit a button, and said - and I quote - 'Charles? I need your assistance now.'"

"That's when I snuck my phone out and started recording."

I sagged back in the booth. What the hell had Monica done? Who the fuck was Charles?

Maggie and Jessica got up, leaving the phone. "We'll be in the car outside, when you're ready to go. I'm so sorry, Harold."

My stomach was in knots, and I could barely breathe, but I pressed 'Play.'

On the video, I heard a knock on the door, and a very surprised Tamara went to answer it. Looking even more shocked, she came back into view, followed by a fit-looking guy, and he was carrying what looked like a portable massage table. He unfolded it, and I noticed it was at about waist-height.

My wife started explaining, very clinically, the purpose of the cock ring, as Charles casually and completely disrobed. He was more than fit; he looked like a Chippendale dancer. There was quite a bit of tittering and whispering among the group. I heard Jessica's gasp, and it wasn't excitement, it was disbelief.

Monica continued to explain. "This is actually a great performance enhancer for your man. When used properly, this device can help your partner achieve a delayed and more intense orgasm. It can also help in keeping an erection, which in turn will boost his confidence in his sexual performance. Finally, there are various types of cock rings that can provide added sensation for you and your partner."

She looked around the room with a cheeky grin. "It's a win for both you and your partner!"

"Here's how it's worn." I watch in horror as she put some lube on it, then took his flaccid dick in her hand and slid it on. "Of course, he can do this for himself, but it adds intimacy and excitement if you do it for him."

She continued her spiel. "This one is a great starter ring." But I'd like to show you some of the more interesting variations, and let you make up your own minds." She smiled.

She quickly removed the plain ring, then pulled out another one that had a strange attachment.

"I call this one the 'bunny'. Again, she lubed it and slid it on. "Charles, would you please?" Charles started stroking himself, and the women watched, spellbound, as he started to get hard.

Monica looked around the room, and stated, "Let me demonstrate."

She dropped her robe and lay on her back on the table. She took some more of the lube and rubbed it on herself.

"Okay Charles," she said. At her instruction, he moved forward and slowly worked his cock into my wife's pussy.

I felt like I might vomit.

She continued to talk, in that clinical voice, "Watch as his penis goes in; see how these little ears rub my clitoris as he penetrates me?" He stroked in and out several times, as the women craned the necks to see. Some of them got up and moved closer.

"Now, for the more adventurous... Please pull out for a moment, Charles." When he complied, she flipped over onto her stomach.

"Now when he enters me, the little ears rub against my asshole." She nodded at him, and he began moving in and out of her again.

She explained, "For some women 'ass-play' is a turn-off. But for others... it can be quite stimulating." Her partner pumped in and out several more times. I swear, if I wasn't watching the screen, I wouldn't have known she was getting screwed, her voice was that impersonal.

"All right, Charles, let's take a short break."

She sat up on the table, not bothering to put her robe back on, and crossed her legs. "Any questions so far?"

There were several, mostly about how much longer it would make their husband or boyfriend last, was it dangerous, etcetera, all of which my wife answered in that same professional tone.

"Speaking of ass-play, I have one more to show you. Charles?"

During the Q&A, Charles' erection had faded to about half-mast. Monica pulled off the bunny ears, and held up a new one, and it appeared to have what looked like a four-inch dildo attached to it.

"With this;" she held it up, "your partner can penetrate your vagina and your anus at the same time."

The women appeared completely enthralled as she slid the contraption onto his dick, then waited for him to stroke himself hard once more. She spread lube on the dildo, and then her ass, and lay face down on the table again.

She nodded, and Charles moved forward, sliding his prick into her, and as he did, the dildo attachment poked at her ass.

Monica was panting very slightly, but she continued to explain. "Ladies, the trick it to relax fully." And sure enough, after several more strokes, the dildo slipped into her ass. Monica couldn't help arching her back slightly, as Charles moved slowly in and out, again giving all the women plenty of time to get a good look.

She was definitely looking a little flushed at this point, and many of the women were squirming in their seats.

Finally, she said, "Thank you, Charles." He pulled out, and helped her to sit back up. Then he turned, removed the device, and began to dress. Without ever saying a word, he folded up the table and left.

The recording stopped.

I sat there for a long time. Maggie and Jessica finally had to come back inside, where they found me sitting there, numb.

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After I recovered at least some of my senses, I knew I wouldn't be able to face her, not yet. I called the house phone and left a message.

"Monica, sorry for the last-minute notice, but Bob asked me to go have a drink after work. I might be a little late."

It wasn't a lie. Maggie called Bob, and we went to the Bent Spoon, where I did have a few too many. They asked me if I wanted to crash at their place, but I thanked them and said I was going to have to face the music, and the sooner it was done, the better. I called an Uber and headed home.

When I walked in, she ran and hugged me. "Harold, I was worried sick! Where have you been? Why didn't you answer my calls?" I don't think she noticed that I didn't hug her back.

I just said, "I did call." I showed her my call log. Playing dumb, I pretended to do a double-take. "Oh shit, I called the house phone by mistake. Sorry." I pressed 'Play" on the home answering machine.

"Oh," she said. "Why didn't you call my cell?"

"I guess I hit the wrong number. I don't remember turning off my phone, sorry." I lied.

"Honey..."

I interrupted her. "I think I had too much to drink. I'm gonna take a shower and go to bed. I feel like shit." That was not a lie. I left her standing there in the kitchen.

I was crashed in the guest room, almost asleep, when she knocked on the door. "Harold, why are you in here?"

"I didn't want to disturb you in case I felt sick."

"Are you feeling any better? Can I get you something?"

"No, thank you. I'll see you in the morning."

"Oh. O-okay." There was nothing for a few seconds, and then I heard her footsteps slowly receding down the hall.

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When I came downstairs the next morning, Monica had made coffee, and some toast. She brought me my favorite mug, and tried to kiss me. I turned so she got my cheek, and she looked at me, clearly worried.

"Harold, are you all right? It's not like you to get drunk like that." Well, that was certainly true.

I stared into my mug, hoping for inspiration. There was no way I could act normally, knowing what was going on. And the longer I avoided it, the worse it would get. I took a deep breath.

"Monica, the reason I got drunk was that I got some very bad news yesterday."

"Oh? I'm so sorry dear, can I help?" And I could tell she meant it! She had such concern in her expression.

"I don't know, Mon, I really don't."

Fuck. Here goes.

"Monica... do you love me?"

"Harold, of course I do!" she grabbed at my hand.

"Am I a good husband?"

"Harold, you're scaring me. Yes, you're the best husband!"

"Are you happy? Being married to me?"

She stared at me. "Why are you asking me this?" she whispered.

I paused for a moment, letting the tension build. I looked straight at her. "Do you want to stay married to me?"

"Harold... I..." Her eyes got wide. "You know." Her hand came up to cover her mouth, and she started to cry. "Oh my God, you know." She slumped, and sobbed in her chair.

I was struggling to find any sympathy for her, knowing what she had been doing.

Finally, she seemed to recover somewhat. "Yes, Harold, yes, more than anything, I want to stay married to you, please. I'm so sorry." She was able to look me in the eye, too.

"Can I try to explain?"

"If you can," I said, rather dubiously.

She tried to gather herself. "Okay. You remember what it was like when I first started? I don't know what I was doing wrong. I was barely making enough money to cover my expenses. I was wracking my brain, trying to figure out a way to demonstrate the products in a way that would be more exciting!"

I did remember. Those first couple of months, she had really been stressed.

"We had started to talk about having children again, and when I wasn't seeing any progress with the job, I guess I started putting more and more pressure myself. You were so encouraging... and I know this sounds weird... that it almost made it worse! I wanted so badly to do well for us that I was getting desperate.