New Life Surprise

I recently wrote a story called "The Surprise" - a non-consensual story with a twist. I deliberately picked a vague title, and so I will try and write a different tale under each of Literotica's twenty-five writing categories with the same name. This is Number Ten

* * * * *

It should have been in 2021, but the world had shut down because of the pandemic, and it took another couple of years to arrange. No longer a decade, but twelve years had passed since the A Level students of Park View College graduated from the Midlands academy, and all the ex-scholars from that cohort received invites to the reunion celebration.

A dozen years ago, a few eighteen year olds left the higher educational establishment to join the armed forces. Lots of their graduates entered the job market, and many more studied at university. But they all returned to meet their fellow ex-students and discuss their lives.

Suzi was one such attendee at the city college. Days after her thirty-first birthday, the multi-millionaire wife hesitated over accepting the invitation. She hadn't seen her former classmates since the day of her results and had lost contact with all of her teenage friends.

Her family moved to the south coast after she attended university, and she never felt the need to return to the midlands city of her birth and upbringing.

Until now.

Her husband encouraged her, and she booked a suite in the poshest hotel; the blonde woman dressed in a tight black dress that complimented her figure and worked with her sexy black stockings. She applied a thin veneer of makeup and lipstick to stress her facial features.

Her husband sent her a thumbs-up emoji from the other side of the world when she took a selfie in the mirror; he had the same reaction to the naked photograph and the image of her in her lingerie that she had sent half-an-hour earlier.

The driver transported her to her old college; complete with refurbished buildings, new sports pitches, and an updated logo. They gave the same requests for "sponsorship" from the alumni as she entered their recently built main hall when she traded her invitation for entry. "No plus one, Mrs Roberts?"

"He's away on business," she replied to the frumpy, overweight receptionist, stretching her best frock.

"Such a pity for you."

"Hmmmm," she muttered, not rising to the bait, and walked into the vast room. She recognised her first boyfriend; he hadn't changed in the intervening years and had the same cheeky laugh and risque humour as he loudly regaled a tale from his pan-European adventures. Adam, the boy who used to help her cheat during mathematics, had since come out as gay, claimed -at the time - that he only assisted with her nefarious activities because she offered him kisses; he gave her a weak smile as she approached him, holding a glass of lukewarm wine.

They greeted her, but all of them looked away when she said she had married; her wedding caused a certain amount of comment in the media, and they had obviously heard her news. She didn't care about their thoughts. Just as Suzi didn't worry about her parents or family boycotting her marriage ceremony. Those were their choices and Suzi had made hers.

She met her former best friend in the toilets; Aimee hurriedly left the bathroom when she saw Suzi enter, and the tall dark-haired office administrator didn't return the greetings as the blonde wife swore after her.

Feeling out of place, Suzi rang her driver and exited the party an hour later. She had moved on from that world, and while it was intriguing to look back, she had no genuine interest in the lives of classmates she could barely remember from over a decade ago. They had not made her feel particularly welcome, and she didn't want to waste her time with people who were passively hostile towards her.

While she waited for her car, she saw Aimee stagger on the steps, tripping over her heels and sprawling a few feet from her former friend. "Get up!" Suzi shouted. "You could never handle your drink. How much have you had?"

"Fuck off!" the tipsy woman slurred. "You think you are above us, but you're not." Suzi rolled her eyes. "I ..."

"Do you want a lift home?" she interrupted. "For old times' sake."

Aimee snorted, sitting on the flowerbed and checking the broken heel on her shoes. "Ain't gotta home, have I?"

"What do you mean, you haven't got a home?"

"I ain't got a fucking flat! My landlord kicked me out on Monday. I'm dossing with my ex."

"OK, do you want a lift there?"

"No, he's slinging me out. His new girl dain't like me living with him."

Suzi looked at the moon in the dark sky, swearing under her breath. She saw her car swing around the roundabout at the top of the drive. "OK, I have a suite in a hotel. Do you want a bed for the night?"

Aimee looked up at her friend. "To rub in what you have?"

"No, because we were best friends for thirteen years and that means something. To me, at least. I don't know why you are so bitter as I'm offering to help you. Even just for one night. Do you want to sleep in the rain we got coming or in a bed in a hotel room?" Aimee scrambled to her feet, stumbling on her broken heel, and collapsed once more. Suzi shook her head.

The drunken woman passed out in the car, and her saviour had to wake her at the hotel. She stumbled into the lift and then flopped on the mattress in the second bedroom of Suzi's master suite.

The following morning, Aimee showered, groaning from her hangover. Not wishing to subject the diners in the exclusive restaurant to her school friend, Suzi ordered room service, and the hotel brought up a breakfast trolley for the two women.

Her guest, dressed in just a fluffy dressing gown, sat at the small table opposite her host, nursing her head. "An explanation would be nice?"

Aimee shrugged. Her long, bedraggled hair framed her green eyes. She had mismatched earrings and chipped fingernails, but had lost none of her natural beauty. "I didn't marry a millionaire. Times are tough for ordinary folk." She grabbed a plate of eggs, bacon, hash browns, mushrooms, tomatoes and sausages from the trolley and picked at a slice of toast.

"Ignore that I married some wealth. What the fuck is going on, Aimee?"

"I lost my job. I couldn't pay my rent. So, I got evicted. And I stayed with my ex. He threw me out."

"And your parents?"

"They moved to America."

"Oh."

"And divorced."

"Ah."

"So ..." Suzi checked her watch. "I have three hours and nineteen minutes before we have to vacate this suite. Where do you want me to drop you off?"

She shrugged again. "I dunno." Suzi sighed. She remembered the flustered behaviour from her friend whenever she had to make a decision in her chaotic personal life as a teenager, and she had not ungrown this irritating habit. "It's fuckin' difficult for the rest of us, y'know."

"Let's just nail something right now. I went to London, got a degree, worked my arse off, and met someone who I love and we share many interests. My life would be different, but I'd still have married him if he wasn't a millionaire."

"He's 102 years old."

"He is fifty-nine."

"And he's a porn star."

"He's a former porn-star and CEO of an adult entertainment empire," Suzi replied, rolling her eyes. "And that's worth a quarter of a billion pounds."

"Yeah, but what sort of life is that?"

"A fun one," she snapped.

"You're like his tenth wife."

She sighed. "Third."

"And ..."

"And I have somewhere to be tonight. Do you?"

"Oh, rub it in!" Aimee squealed, holding the sausage and dipping the end of the meat stick into her fried egg. "You got lucky."

"I did." She shook her head at the sight of her old friend. "I can't believe I'm asking this, but do you want to stay with me in London for a few days? Marv is out of the country."

"Who's Marv?" Aimee asked, waving the egg-covered sausage at her host, and splattering yolk onto the table.

"My husband."

"Oh, if that's not too much bother. We need to swing by my ex's flat to pick up my gear."

Suzi shook her head and called the driver. Forty minutes later, they were outside Aimee's ex-boyfriend's house as she screamed at him, tottering on her broken shoes. "The bastard has thrown out all my stuff."

"I told ya! Ya needed to have ya shit out of my place. Charlene said you couldn't stay, and she dain't like your shit being here. When you left yesterday, we just chucked it." Suzi stopped her from smashing a fist into the unrepentant ex-boyfriend's face and wrestled her into the car.

She had no clothes. No possessions. No home. Nothing to show for her thirty-one years on the planet.

Even Suzi, eager to cut ties from her past, felt sorry for Aimee as she stared out of the window in her torn, grubby dress from the party. The driver took just over two hours to arrive at their Hertfordshire home, nestled beside the M25.

"Fuckin 'ell, Suzi. You live in Downton Abbey."

"It's a modest ten-bedroom property," she replied, looking at the large, three-storey manor house at the end of their gravel drive. She entered the light hallway and Aimee squealed. "You have a pool!" She shouted, staring through the glass inner doors and into the garden.

"We have one in the basement, too. It's too cold to swim outdoors in September."

"Fuck."

"Let me show you to your room." She escorted Aimee to a bedroom, with an en-suite, on the first floor of their home, that had views of the gravel drive. "I'll let you have some clothes, but I rarely wear much in the house." She smiled as her friend ran her hand over the double bed. "Marv likes me naked."

"Ewww!"

"It's our house. So it's our rules!" Aimee looked away from her college mate, and Suzi provided her guest with a few nightclothes, three pairs of shoes, a couple of lingerie sets and a handful of outfits, as well as a phone charger, an old tablet and a sheer dressing gown. "This is a bit porno, ain't it?"

Suzi shook her head. "My husband works in porn and we practise freedom. You didn't expect granny pants, did you? I can only give you what I have. I guess those bras and panties will fit you, as they were the wrong size when I got them. And we've always been the same shoe size. But ..."

"This?" Aimee interrupted, holding the white gown to the light. "It's see-through. There's no point wearing this, is there? Doesn't hide a thing!"

"I have a couple like that. And that's designer! It cost over a hundred quid! But it's the very reason you wear that ... you are meant to be seen in it, Aimee. I can only give you what will fit you from my wardrobe. We are slightly different sizes and my clothes are ... probably ... a bit more erotic than what you are used to."

Her guest huffed and wore the gifted tight denim shorts with a white crop-top for dinner. She refused to strip naked to swim in the indoor pool, despite Suzi swimming a dozen laps in front of her. The host rode 25km on the exercise bike in the adjacent gymnasium, before she sat down on the loungers to talk to her friend, still bare. "What's the plan?"

"I don't know!" Aimee muttered. "I've got to start again. I don't have a job or a home. No family. I don't even have any clothes to wear. What would you do?" Suzi sighed, not trusting herself to suggest anything. "And I'm sorry I was a bitch to you yesterday."

"You'd had a shock," she soothed. "But Marv will be back on Friday and ..." she hummed. "You don't want to be around when he's here."

"Why? Is he violent? Is ..."

"No," the naked host replied instantly. "His house, his rules," she said cryptically. "I have some money put away. I'll help you find a place to rent, and we can go shopping. But you will need to find a job. And we have to get it done by Friday morning when Marv returns."

Aimee groaned. "Really?"

"Yeah. But I know just the person who will help!"

* * * * *

The following day, Suzi drove her guest to an "estate agent friend" to find a home for the busty woman.

Eric was a sixty-year-old rotund gentleman with a receding hairline and a cheeky grin. "Oh, let's 'ave a look. Very nice. Very, very nice," he said, ogling the two women as they sat in his private office. "It's a tough market out there, girls. I might have a few things cooking, but ..." He sighed. "Is this a Marv thing or not?"

"Nothing to do with Marv. So no big costs, please." Suzi uncrossed her legs, rolling her finger along her short skirt as she made eye contact with the lecherous businessman.

"I have a two-bed, fully furnished house in Borehamwood for ..." He gulped. "Sixteen hundred a month?"

"Ahhh, a grand sounds ideal."

"No! I couldn't. I could shake hands at fifteen fifty but ..."

"You can shake what you like at a thousand."

He mopped his brow. "You and Marv will send me to an early grave."

"With a smile on your face. Do we have a deal?"

He shook his head. "Sorry, I'm taking a big hit at fifteen fifty."

Suzi leant forward, resting her fingers on the top of his desk. "I'm not wearing any underwear or a bra. And I might be in one of ... them ... moods. One thousand notes for six months. I'll pay up front within twenty-four hours via bank transfer. What happens after the expiry of the tenancy is between you and the tenant."

Aimee gulped; she flinched at her friend's negotiation tactics. "Fifteen hundred?"

"A grand, if it's suitable. It's been four weeks since you attended a little soiree at our house, and I know your frigid wife doesn't give you much attention." She ran her hands over her bosom, stretching the tight top further. "We could have an inspection of the property. Bring your contract, we'll have a look round the place, and see what happens!"

Eric nodded; he wrote an address and postcode on a Post-It Note for Suzi, and told them to follow in their car. Aimee snapped the moment she sat in her friend's vehicle. "What are you doing?"

"Trust me. It's just a game with Eric."

"What d'ya mean? He's creepy!" She glared at her friend as they pulled into traffic.

"He's harmless. You need to play with him, but it is the best way to get us a good deal. Now, put that postcode into the sat-nav." She pressed a button on her car's dash and passed the paper to the scowling woman. It took less than five minutes to drive to the northern edge of the town, in the middle of a recent housing development. A row of narrow terraced-houses, each with a paved front, lined the road.

Eric threw his arms wide. "8 Atkins Close," he proudly said. "You won't find a nicer house for the money! At fifteen fifty a month, for my favourite little woman!"

The front door opened directly into the lounge, a minimalist space with a hardwood floor, white walls, and a staircase. The kitchen had a dining table and four chairs, and Aimee peered into the empty cupboards, as she envisaged a fresh start in the Hertfordshire town.

Suzi ascended the stairs as Eric talked about "energy efficiency" and "proximity to amenities." The primary bedroom was an impressive size for a two-bed property, but there were several dirty marks on the pale walls.

She sighed, stepped into the bathroom, comprising a toilet, a sink and a bath with an over-the-tub shower, controlled by a wall-mounted plate. She turned the knob, feeling the liquid cascade through the shower-head and held her hand underneath it, testing the water temperature.

With one quick motion, she tilted her palm, diverting the water into the air, and spraying her clothes. Suzi shrieked as she turned the shower off and stood at the top of the stairs in her moistened attire. "I tested if the shower worked and got soaked," she lied, exaggerating. Eric, in the lounge, watched as she peeled her white blouse from her body, displaying her bust. "I better let them dry."

Eric's eyes widened, staring at Suzi, as she folded her damp clothing over the bannister rail. "Ummm ..." The blonde didn't stop; she pushed her skirt to her ankles, bending over to show the estate agent her butt as she picked the blue garment from the floor and placed that alongside her top.

"And there are some marks on the wall up here, Eric."

"Really?" He muttered, staring at the lithe beauty.

"Come see for yourself!"

Aimee spluttered when she saw her friend naked as the estate agent hurried up the staircase. She showed him the walls in the spare room and the main bedroom.

"The current tenant formally vacates today. We have a professional deep clean tomorrow, and there are some issues with the guttering. Replacing the mattress in the bedrooms and tidying up the hedges and garden. Plus, we'll do a full gas safe inspection, as we are highly esteemed estate agents with an excellent reputation."

"You are required to do much of that by law," the nude woman chuckled. "I like it. I think it's good. What do you reckon, Aimee? Could you live here?"

Her friend nodded at Suzi, glaring at her nude friend. "It's nice."

"OK. We'll take it. So, we now need to talk about the price." She gestured to her friend. "Just wait downstairs for a minute while I talk money." Aimee scowled, but left the room as the bare negotiator turned to the overweight estate agent.

"Properties like this go for around sixteen to eighteen hundred a month, so ..." He sighed, balling his hands into fists. "Fourteen fifty. I can do fourteen fifty."

Suzi hummed. "That doesn't really work for me."

"Any lower and ..."

Her hand touched his tummy, rubbing it through his thin cotton shirt. Her blue eyes sparkled as she ran her fingers downwards to the belt on his suit trousers, pressing against his waist. "Sure we can't go any lower?"

"Ah, fourteen hundred?" he muttered as she unfastened his belt buckle. "That's ..."

"Oh yes," she squealed, dropping his black trousers to his ankles. Her palm rubbed his white Y-Fronts, teasing his bulge within. He bit his lip, his resolve cracking. "Thirteen seventy-five. Final offer."

"Eric, you disappoint me," Suzi cried. Her fingers teased the cotton underwear to his thighs, exposing his thick, circumcised prick, fully erect. Around five inches long, and surrounded by erratically trimmed dark pubic hair.

He grunted as her hands closed over his warm erection, gently stroking it. "That's nice," he muttered, sliding his hand roughly over her exposed breasts. He dipped his head to kiss her nipple, licking his tongue over her sensitive point.

Eric's fingers roughly parted her cleft, sliding over her wetness. "You know, Eric, you're old enough to be my father," Suzi said. "Maybe even my grandfather." She mewed as he touched her clit, and she lowered her knees to kiss the tip of his prick.

He groaned as her tongue danced over his glans, tasting his musky scent. "New cologne?" She asked as she stared at him from her kneeling position.

"Hmmm," he muttered.

"When was the last time your wife sucked on your cock?"

"Before CoVID!"

"And the last time she helped you blow your load?"

"Months ago!"

"Oh you poor man," she said. "You need a soiree!" She took his length in her mouth, sliding her lips along his shaft as her tongue worked his dick. He twisted his fingers into her hair, balling her blonde locks in his hands as he pushed her head deeper onto his five-inch cock.

She mewed as he rammed his dick into her. "Does Marv know he married such a cheap whore? He's worth hundreds of millions and you're gagging on my willy to save a few hundred quid," he grunted.

He pulled her hair, forcing her lips away from his dick. "OK, thirteen hundred quid, slut. And you swallow my fucking load. All of it. I'm cumming down your fucking throat!"

Suzi wiped her mouth of spittle. "How about you fuck me on the bed? If you come inside me, it's a grand a month. If you come outside me, I'll pay thirteen hundred." She stared into his gaze as her hands stroked his dick. "And I ain't brought any condoms."

"God, you're fucking nasty," he cried, manhandling the wife and throwing her onto the stained double mattress. Her butt bounced on the springs, and she wiggled herself so she centred her body on the bed.