My Wife was a Pay-to-View Slut Ch. 01

(with input by Irish Lass & editing by LarryInSeattle)

(Since I started writing I've been asked on more than one occasion if my stories are true and I can honestly say that everyone is ... in part. In every story, something is true. It could be a name, the description of a person, a location, or an event. I leave that to my readers to decide as part of the mystique. In this case, since it was related to me by a third party, I felt it necessary to let my readers know that this is not about my wife [if I have one]. Enjoy)

The moment she walked in the door of the bar, where I was working, I knew two things. The first was that she wasn't from around here and the second was that I HAD to meet her.

She was taller than most women and the high-heeled sandals she was wearing added a few inches, making her almost as tall as me. Her auburn hair hung down her back and seemed to be continuously changing, getting darker here and lighter there, as the sun reflected off it through the open door. Her eyes were a brilliant shade of jade-green that seemed to twinkle as she looked around the room. Her skin was smooth and creamy-white with freckles scattered across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. And she was wearing lip gloss that drew a person's attention to her full 'kiss me' lips.

But it was her chest that drew my attention. They were, by far, the largest set of breasts I'd ever seen. She was wearing a blue-checked, flannel shirt that was tied together underneath them leaving her cleavage completely exposed. And to top it all off, she was wearing a pair of "Daisy Duke" shorts that were so tight they looked as if they'd been painted on. Definitely, NOT the usual 'cowboy' gear that most people in the area wore.

"Can someone tell me where I can get some hep with my car?" she asked with a soft, Irish lilt.

"I'll be 'appy to give you a ride, shweety," one of the locals slurred.

"Me too," another said.

"Me three," another chimed in before they all started laughing.

"Only three of you? That's not nearly enough for what I need," she replied as she winked at them.

Instantly, all three stopped laughing as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped on them.

"Can I help?" I offered.

"That depends," she replied as her eyes gave me the 'once over'.

"I own the local repair shop."

"Thank god," she sighed, as the icy tone in her voice suddenly disappeared. "I'm not sure what happened. I was coming down the highway and I think I ran over something. The next thing I knew my car was starting to act funny and then a bunch of the lights went on and the car just stopped."

"Sam, take over for me." I yelled over my shoulder.

The beautiful vision looked at me. "I thought you said you owned the repair shop?"

"I do but there isn't a whole lot of work to be done all the time so I fill in as a bartender once in awhile."

"Ahhhhhhh."

"So where's your car?"

"Down the road a couple of miles."

"So how did you get here?"

"I caught a lift from a young kid on a tractor," she laughed.

"Lucky kid," I thought to myself. "We better grab my flatbed, then. It will be easier to bring your car back to the shop, if I need to."

My truck looked old and beaten up but after everything I'd put it through it was no wonder. Dents were scattered across the body and long scratches ran down the sides but if anyone took the time to look they would see that I kept the engine and hoist in almost-new condition. Not that any of that mattered as I watched my mystery woman's ass sway as she walked across the street to where the truck was parked. When we got there I was going to offer to help her up into the elevated cab only to be amazed as I watched her climb into it like an old pro.

"What's the matter? Never seen a girl get into a truck before?"

"Not a truck this big."

She laughed. "What, this little thing? My da' drove an 18-wheeler. I've been hopping in and out of trucks most of my life."

"Okay then," I said as I walked back around the truck and climbed into the driver's seat.

A few moments later we were at her car and I knew the moment I saw it that I was in trouble. A ruby-red 1998 Porsche Boxter was parked on the side of the road and though I'd worked on all kinds of cars in the past this one was way out of my league.

"Wow."

"Yep, that's my baby," she purred as she slid from the seat.

"Well, I can tell you right now there's not much I can do for you," I said, as I stood next to her staring at the car.

"I thought you said ..."

"I said I owned the local repair shop. That means I work on cars and trucks the locals can afford. THIS is definitely not something you'd normally see around here."

"SHIT," she growled as she kicked the tire, followed almost immediately by, "OH FUCK," as she grabbed her foot. "What ... oh shit," continued her tirade as she looked down at the blood covering her big toe.

I tried to hide my smile, though I doubt I did a very good job. "Here, let me take a look at that."

"What ... are you the local doctor too?"

"Nahh, nothing like that. Just a member of the local EMS and rescue crew."

"That explains it."

"What?"

"The dents and scratches in your truck," she said as examined her toe. "My da' took care of his truck better than he took care of just about anything ... except my mom. He ..." she faltered and a far-away look covered her face for a second before returning to look at me, the corners of her mouth turned up in a small smile. "Is there anything you don't do?"

"Unfortunately, yeah. I don't do Porsche's."

She laughed long and hard, temporarily forgetting about her foot.

Then, I helped her back to my truck and with one quick hop she was in, her foot at almost the perfect height for me to see what she'd done to it. "I hate to tell you this but you took a chunk of skin out of your toe and split the nail almost half way down.

"So much for that gig," she muttered until she saw the curious look on my face. "I work as an entertainer and was supposed to start a two week dancing gig this Monday."

"Sorry, don't think that's gonna happen."

"Oh well. Nothing I can do about it now," she shrugged. "Is there anything at all you can do with my car?"

"I could try but, honestly, I'm afraid I might make it worse," I said as I pulled out my medical kit and carefully wrapped her toe with Kerlix. "But I'll tell you what. I'll put it on the flatbed and take it to my shop. I know a guy who works on imported cars. Maybe I can get a hold of him and see what we can figure out without having to tow it all the way to his place."

"That would be great," but then as an afterthought she asked. "How much do you think it will cost?"

"That all depends on what we can figure out. If I can do the work I'm sure it will be a lot cheaper but ..." I hesitated. "If we need to take it to his place that's gonna cost ya. To start with, his place is about 45 miles away."

"Arrrghhhhhh," she groaned.

"Hey, don't give up yet. Let's get this thing on the flatbed and see want happens."

She smiled as I got to work and within 30 minutes I had her car on the truck and almost back to town.

"Things look pretty quiet around here. Is there a motel or something close by that I can stay at?" she asked as we pulled into the lot in front of my repair shop.

"Sorry. The last motel closed almost 5 years ago. We're kinda off the beaten path so about the only time anyone comes here is to see family and then they usually stay with them."

She sighed, a look of defeat covering her face.

"But hey, I'll tell you what. If you want, and the choice is totally yours, you can crash at my place. I promise to be a perfect gentleman. In fact, you can have my bed and I'll take one of the guest rooms."

"Really? You'd do that for me?" a look of disbelief now on her face.

"Yeah, just so long as you're not a serial killer or anything like that." I laughed.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"No prob."

After I dropped off her car, I called Gavin, the other mechanic, but he'd already left for the night. So, I left a message asking him to call me first thing in the morning.

It was only as I walked out of the shop and saw her sitting in my truck that I realized what a fool I'd been. "I'm sorry but this is going sound really stupid after everything that's happened but ... mmmmm ... what's your name?"

She laughed once again. "I was wondering how long it would take you to think of that. My name's Michelle. Micki to my friends," she said as she held out her hand.

"So am I a friend?" I asked as I took her hand and shook it.

"I would hope so since I'm going to be sleeping in your bed tonight," she answered in a soft, seductive tone.

My mind and certain parts of my body instantly reacted in a 'far too friendly' way to her choice of words and the tone in her voice.

"Now, can I ask you something?"

"Ahhhh, yeah, sure."

"What's your name?"

"Duhhhhhh," I thought as I stuttered. "I'm Gary."

"Glad to meet you Gary," she said as she once again took my hand and shook it. "Just one more question."

"Shoot."

"Is there any place around here we can get something to eat? I'm starved."

"There's a really good cafe on Main Street. Everything is home-made," I said as I looked at my watch. "The problem is they closed about 20 minutes ago. There's not much open after 7 o'clock around here."

"What about the bar? Didn't I see a menu on the wall?"

"Micki," I said in my most serious, joking voice. "The only way I'd suggest the food at the bar is if it was only thing left to eat on Earth or you were too drunk to know how absolutely awful it is."

"That bad?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die if I lie."

"Please don't," she said a twinkle in her eyes. "I'd hate to lose a new friend so soon."

"In that case, there's only one joint left to try."

"Where?" she asked, excited.

"My place. I'm pretty sure I've got something laying around and if not, we can always take a drive and find some road kill."

"Eeeeuugghhhhh. That's gross."

"Ain't it though," I replied and we both began to laugh. "Just to warn you, my place isn't much."

"Is it smaller then the sleeper in an 18-wheeler?"

"Nope."

"Then I'm sure it's fine."

The drive back to my place only took about 15 minutes. It had originally been my grandparent's but they'd left it to me when they died.

The house had started out as a one-room cabin, but had grown along with the family. Now, it was two stories high and had 10 rooms including a kitchen/dining room combo, a living room/TV room, a 'great room' with an elevated ceiling, a full and a partial bathroom, a library that also served as my office, a master bedroom, and 2 guest bedrooms. The house also had a wrap-around porch on three sides with a fireplace and bar-b-que pit built in. In addition, there were 2 barns, a stable, and 160 acres of land.

"This is all yours," she looked, astounded.

"Yeah, like I said. It isn't much."

"If this isn't much, what is?"

"Around here ... anything under 1000 acres is considered a playground."

"Wow," she said as she shuffled up the sidewalk to the porch.

"Why don't you take a load off that toe and grab a seat out here while I get something together for us to eat."

"Okay," she replied, though I could tell she really wasn't paying attention to me as she took in the beauty of the land around us.

I grabbed some steaks, fresh vegetables, home-made bread, and wine and brought them out to the porch. Within a few minutes, I had the steaks grilling over a fire while the bread was warming and the veggies were off to the side in a steam pot. Then I opened the wine, poured two glasses, and offered her one while I kept the other.

"You're pretty good at this," she said, softly.

"Yeah, lots of practice."

"Why only practice? Not to be too personal or anything, but you own your own business, have this place, and seem to be pretty good at taking care of things. So why are you alone out here?"

"Wrong place. Wrong time. You know the story."

She stared at me, waiting for me to continue.

"When I was younger there were all kinds of people my age around here. Then ... mmmmmm ... about 15 years ago there was a wild-fire. It wiped out a lot of the smaller, family-owned ranches. A few tried to stay but ultimately they left along with their kids. By the time I graduated from high school there were only 6 kids in the class and 4 of them were guys."

"So why'd you stay?"

"My grandparents. They raised me, so this is the only home I've ever known."

"What about your parents?"

"I never knew them."

"What happened?"

"Don't know. My grandparents never talked about them and after awhile I stopped asking. Anyway, it looks like everything's done. Time to eat," I said, to change the subject.

The rest of the evening, Micki and I spent laughing and telling stories about our past. It wasn't until I saw how high the moon was that I even thought of checking my watch.

"Oh boy."

"Is something wrong?"

"No ... and yes. It's already 2 o'clock. I have to be up at 4:30 to take care of the horses and then get into the shop in case Gavin calls."

"Horses?" her eyes sparkled.

"Yeah. I have a few of my own but I board a few for other people as well."

She shook her head. "So let me get this straight. You own a towing and repair shop. You work at the bar. You volunteer on the Rescue Squad AND run this ranch while boarding horses. Is that right?"

"Pretty much."

"I think the real reason you don't have a girlfriend or wife is because you're too busy to fit one in," she giggled.

"I don't know. If the right woman came along I think I'd find a way to fit her in," I said, almost in a whisper. But I could tell from the expression on her face she'd heard me.

Shortly afterwards, we walked into the house together and headed for our rooms. Then just as we got there, she stopped and lightly kissed me on the cheek. "Thank you for a wonderful evening," she whispered and then she was gone, leaving only the gentle 'click' of the door closing.

When I woke up the next morning, I felt like I had the worst hangover in recorded history. The sun was so bright, I was sure it was going to burn right through my eye sockets. And then it hit me ... the sun. "It shouldn't be up yet unless ..." I thought as I rolled over and looked at the clock on the bedside table. I suddenly felt like I was going to be sick as the numbers 9:32, glared at me. "What the fuck?" I muttered.

"Did you say something?" I heard from just a few feet away. I rolled over towards the sound and immediately regretted it since the world seemed to swirl and sway before my eyes. When they finally focused on the figure standing in the doorway I barely recognized her as the woman from the night before. Her hair was pulled back into a pony-tail and instead of the outfit she'd been wearing the night before she was wearing a black camisole, jeans and hiking boots. "Good morning," she said, far too chipper for the way I was feeling.

"Mornin'. Wanna tell me what happened?"

"What are you talking about?"

"My alarm clock for starters."

Oh, that. I turned it off."

"Wha ... Why?"

"I had such a wonderful time last night I couldn't seem to fall asleep. So I got up about 3, maybe 3:30, and started wandering around. Next thing I knew I was in the barn. I saw the horses and thought 'what the heck' so I cleaned out the stalls, brushed down the two of them listed on the schedule I found and then fed them. After that I just kept going. Oh, before I forget, your truck's gonna need some gas."

"My truck?"

"Yeah, I borrowed it and drove back into town."

"Into town?" I stuttered.

"YEAH. What's the matter? Can't a girl drive into town?," she teased. "Anyway, I found the phone number for your friend Gavin and left him a message to call you here, then I left your number just to make sure he had it."

I suddenly felt like a Mac truck had run over me. "You did all that ... and left me sleep."

"Yep."

"Why?"

"That's what friends do."

"I need something to drink," I groaned.

"There's a fresh pot of tea on the stove though I'm not sure how good it is. The container looked like it'd been around awhile," she called out as I shuffled into the kitchen. Sure enough, there was fresh tea with thick pieces of bread from the night before drenched in butter and honey.

"I think I died," I moaned to myself. "But if I did ... I went to heaven," I finished as I sat down and began to devour the food. A few moments later, I looked out the window and saw Micki heading back with a basket in her hand.

"Did you know you have chickens?" she asked when she returned.

"Yeah, they're up in the loft."

"And do you know what chickens do?"

"Yeah, they lay eggs."

"Right," she said as she pulled out a dozen eggs from her basket.

"And do you know what happens if you don't pick up those eggs?"

"Yeah, they rot. That's why I have to go up there every months or so and clean the entire loft."

She rolled her eyes as she listened. "And what happens to the eggs that don't go bad?"

"They become ..." I stopped suddenly realizing exactly where she was directing the conversation.

"How many?"

"How many what?"

"You know. How many chickens are up there?"

"Are we talking adult chickens or little chicks?"

"Both?" she repeated.

"Just tell me. My head is already throbbing from last night."

"Before I answer, just tell me when was the last time you were up in the loft?" she asked, obviously upset.

"About 2, no make that 3, months ago. I've been busy and ..." I didn't finish, realizing there was nothing I could say or do that was going to get me out of the trouble I was in.

"So what have they been eating?"

"I put an open bag of seed on the conveyor and send it up there every couple of weeks."

"You ... you ..."

Her face turned almost as red as her hair and for a second I wondered if she was about to see a present day version of Mt. Vesuvius explode. If only I'd been that lucky.

"Come here, you," she said as she grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the front door.

"Can I finish my tea?"

"NO."

"Well, can I at least put some pants on?"

She stopped dead in her tracks noticing, maybe for the first time, that I wasn't wearing any pants. I'm sure I looked like a comic book character as I stood there dressed in a T-shirt, boxer shorts, and cowboy boots.

"Ohmigod," she began to laugh, releasing all the pent up emotion she'd been directing at me. "Yes, get some pants on. I'm not sure my eyes can handle looking at those bony legs of yours."

"Hey," I said, half-heartedly. "They're not bony they're ... mmmm ... skinny."

"Okay, Mr. 'skinny legs' go get some pants on ... please," she teased.

As I walked past her to get my pants, I felt a playful spank on my butt. "Hurry up. We don't have all day."

I dressed quickly and we headed to the barn together. I had no idea what to expect as we climbed into the loft but it definitely wasn't what I found. The area looked like a F4 tornado had hit.

"How did this happen?"

"What do ya mean?"

"I mean this," she swept her hand around the loft.

I stood silent as I thought back. "This was my grandma's favorite place. She used to call it her sanctuary. In here, she was the queen, although we all knew she actually ran the whole ranch. My grandpa said it was best that way. He did what he did but only after she told him what it was that needed to be done."

"Smart man."

"Anyway, when my grandpa died she spent more and more time up here. When I asked if she needed help she'd always said 'no' she could take care of it herself. Then she died this past Spring. I just never ... I just never felt like it was 'right' for me to come up here."

"Well, if you're not going to come up here then we need to build something down there," she indicated the lower barn level, "so we can take care of them."