My Investor's Wife's Nude Audition

I needed no further invitation. I opened my mouth, I stuck out my tongue, I tried to capture those mammaries orally.

"Put your tits in my mouth," I actually shouted out, recklessly.

Well, that seemed to do it. We both went beyond crazy. She pushed her whole body, top and bottom into me and started grinding. I knew she came when she suddenly leaned her head back and stiffened up her entire upper body and gasped.

She ended up kneeling over me, on the same padded metal chair. My head was pushed just under her breasts which felt warm against my deepening bald spot.

"Line?" she said, and we both laughed so hard the chair almost fell over. That would've made a memorable 911 call if somebody got hurt.

She got up and nonchalantly gathered her clothes. She made no attempt to hide herself or flaunt herself. She was just... Carly.

"I'm... sorry that you didn't get to..." she looked down towards that area.

"That's okay," I laughed. "You've given me enough... material to last a lifetime!"

"You mean I've..." she searched for the right word "preemptively cured you of erectile dysfunction?"

"Probably," I answered and we both laughed.

On her way to the restroom, I asked: "Just one question?" and she turned.

"Why do women talk during sex?

She almost laughed then saw that I was serious. She thought a moment. "Maybe we're thinking that we finally have a man in a position where he'll actually listen!" Then she went in to get dressed.

I got up and opened the window. I needed my own dose of reality. I got it: honking horns, blasting car radios, and a crazy street corner guy announcing he was "the Lord God Jehovah" and we all owed Him money. Just a normal New York moment.

I wasn't as conflicted at that moment and I should have been. Was Carly doing this to get back at her hubby? Was I going to be a willing participant? I was afraid the answer to both questions was 'yes.'

She came up behind me so quietly I was startled. "Thinking of jumping?" she teased, putting her arms around my waist from behind.

"Oh no," I answered seriously. "I've been a bad boy, not ready to meet (the song was blasting from a car stuck in traffic) the 'Spirit in the Sky.'"

"Nothing we did today was bad," she insisted. "You made me very happy. That is, assuming I passed the audition."

She leaned in closer and kissed the back of my neck. I felt the warmth of her breath on my ear-- and then the door buzzer went off. Our next victim had arrived.

"I shall leave via the anteroom," she declared in a British accent, "and instruct yon fair maiden that you have already found your sex doll. Would that be correct?"

I nodded as she headed to the door.

She was wonderful, smart and funny. And I was completely under her spell.

"I love you Carly" I blurted out. I wasn't ashamed to say it then and I'm still glad I said it now.

She paused in the middle of turning the door knob, then said, in her best Han Solo impression: "I know."

* * *

She lasted nineteen performances in a row, actually being masturbated on stage. Then she had an orgasm live on stage at number twenty. I thought a lot of people in the audience saw it and knew it was for real.

We did only the motions from then on, even 'spinning the dials' I was a millimeter away from her nipples. Still, I had the best view in the city.

Then her contract was over and everything was changing. Masturbating a naked girl on stage was no longer 'acceptable.'

We all went our separate ways. I still kept in touch with Carly and Dennis but we were living very different lives.

At the increasingly rare dinner parties, Carly and I would always exchange a special glance, a knowing smile. The fact that she was my fantasy who became a reality, that she was a real woman who was really out there, living and breathing, got my through some bad times.

Then I got the strangest email from Carly. She wanted me to tell her "crazy life story" and she didn't care if it was in the form of "a book, a movie, or even a fucking play." Then she said something even better than "I love you." It was: "I trust you-- you've been so good to me!"

I tried calling her again and again. No answer.

A week or so later someone forwarded the breaking news. I was on my way to the shower and I don't remember who sent it.

It said that Carly had kept her diagnosis secret, sharing it only with close family. She wasn't in pain at the end, she just went to sleep...

I found myself on the floor of the bathroom, cold and shaking. I was gripping my phone and calling Becca.

She answered immediately. "I got it too. I'm coming over."

That was it. I never said one word. I just stared at the iPhone in my hand until I heard her at my door.

We somehow ended up spending the next 48 hours or so together and we almost never came up for air. We cried and we laughed and we made love; all three activities, pretty much continuously. Did I say 'made love?' More like we had sex as if we were two lunatics who had just escaped from a lifetime in the asylum.

We once went twelve hours straight without eating. I had to set up helpful text alerts; "8 am: breakfast. A time when normal people eat a light nourishing meal-- instead of each other."

And yes, Becca talked nonstop. Especially during sex. I figured-- what the hell-- she finally had me in a position where I was actually listening.