Pauline's Diaries Ch. 06

His son, who his father called, a lazy so and so, cleaned my windscreen, and as his father attended to another customer, his son smiled at me. He was not wearing a top, which was a little stupid for the time of year. The slowness which he took wiping my windscreen, was not lost on me. He moved round to my door on the driver's side. He did not hide that he was looking in at my thighs as he wiped across the screen. He wiped in such a lazy slow motion, I knew he was delaying my departure.

I tugged my white skirt down a little, but it was so short it didn't cover much. He grinned because he knew he had embarrassed me. He is much too confident for one so young, and I was only to glad my window was wound up, or he might have reached in and touched my leg, covered in white patterned tights. He move back and opened his arms in some dramatic fashion. I pulled away and I watched in the rear view mirror, as he stood looking in my direction, until I was out of sight.

I told my husband of the boy in the garage, I said he just leered at me. My husband knows the garage owner. He told me his son's name was Rick, and he was 19, and a little bastard who was the leader of his little gang and always up to no good. Albert told me Rick had no respect for anyone or anything, and the police had locked him up a couple of times. He said Rick's father was at a loss with his wayward son, who thought he was above the law. Rick did scare me, and when the new garage opens I shall get my petrol there.

March 14th.

My brothel isn't doing as well as I hoped, but it is true what my husband said. It needs time to re-establish itself. He suggested we have an event, and he would see to it that all the most influential people would be invited. Dear diary, I do flounder as a business woman sometimes, and I cursed myself for not thinking of that very idea.

One customer I had Kenny eject for smoking weed. My husband told me it was harsh, and I shouldn't be turning away paying clients, but I told him I wanted a clean brothel. Kenny is my bouncer now, and has himself a girlfriend, I haven't met her, but Kenny talks with such affection for her, I am glad. He has even stopped leering at me, well openly, and we have what I would say was a friendship now.

March 18th.

My husband has said the garden at the Dickinson house is still a mess, and they have until next week to get it sorted, or he will have them thrown on the street.

I am having an event at my brothel, a grand opening if you will on the 5th of April. And we have employed two new girls. Some that came for employment I have turned away, because their looks aren't good enough.

I saw Rick last night; he was in the bus shelter with his band of merry men or rather, stupid boys. I had to stop at the junction. He had some girl around his own age with long flowing red hair, bent over while he fucked her from behind with his jeans round his ankles. One of his friends was groping down her top, while the other two looked on. Rick looked up, and I could see his gritted teeth as he rode her. He looked across the road at me, and he carried on fucking her, but his gritted teeth change into a smile. For a few seconds our eyes locked, and he spun her round, and without any prompting for him, her mouth found his cock. His hands went to his hips like some sort of strutting stud. I drove off and his head turned following me, like he had done a few weeks past in the garage.

I stopped round the corner as a policeman passed, and told him there was group of people round the corner, doing disgusting things in the bus shelter. The bobby thanked me, and then he rushed away to sort them out. I smiled to myself, hoping the policeman would stop the events before Rick reached satisfaction. This thought made me smile again later, as my husband fucked me.

March 21st

I went to the garage. My car has developed a fault with one of the pedals. Rick appeared covered in grease from the repairs area. I saw behind him on the filthy sofa in the garage, his three cronies, and the red head from a week ago. I asked for his father, as he wiped his fingers in a rag. His eyes were all over me, in my flared navy miniskirt with two lines of white piping round the hem, and my matching navy jacket with the same style bands round the cuffs. I had plain tan tights on, and navy high heels, and a little navy beret hat, all bought from Tom's Dresses.

I asked where his father was, and he just shrugged and looked back to his mates. He told me his father was out of town for a few days. I said my goodbyes and I'd call again. He ran in front of me and walked backwards, and said he could fix my car. He jumped over the door and into the driver's seat. I had put the roof down that morning. He raced it into the garage like a big show off. He got out and leant against it, waiting for me to walk in.

Dear diary I felt somewhat intimidated, but reminded myself I was a young woman who ran a brothel, and he was just a big head, and showing off in front of his mates. I told him the trouble confident he couldn't fix it and would let himself down in front the girl, and his beer swilling friends. He had me sit back in the car and pump the pedal. He knelt down next to my open door. He was so close I could feel his hot breath on my leg. The others crowed round the other side of my car, leaning on it as if it was their own.

Rick reached across and placed his hand on the top of my foot, and pumped my foot on the pedal more than a dozen times. I felt his cheek on my nylon clad knee, and would have moved my leg away, but it was already against the seat. I could feel the rasp of the stubble on his face against my nylon leg. One of his friends jumped in next to me. He was suggestive in the way he said something quite ordinary. He said, "Baby, Rick can fix anything...he knows what you want," the others chuckled.

Rick withdrew his hand from my foot, and told someone called Aaron to get the oiling can. Rick sprayed oil behind the pedal, and then started pushing my foot up and down at the same time. I could feel his thumb rubbing over the top of my foot. Slowly the squeaking faded and stopped, but my nervous panting increased!

Dear diary I was trembling, and when I looked down, Rick was looking up my skirt, making out his head was turned listening for any sign of the squeak. He handed the oil can back to his mate, and then rested his hand on my knee. I gently pushed his hand off, and his stupid friends started whooping. The girl giggled and said, "Perhaps somewhere else needs oiling Rick?"

They all laughed, and Rick was smiling at me, still knelt by my side. Evilness came over his face, and he put his hand on my leg again, this time more forcefully.

He licked his lips. I felt his hand travel slowly up my leg to mid thigh, and then back to my trembling knee. He flexed his fingers in my flesh a couple of times, while I sat wincing. He asked me for a thank you for fixing me car. I didn't want to say anything. I didn't want to give into him. His fingers moved the nylon over my leg, as he massaged me for a while.

Rick's other hand grabbed at my other thigh, and then both hands went down to my knees. I gasped out loud as he jerked my knees apart. All the time his eyes watched mine. I forced my legs together, and his silly mates laughed. He forced my legs open again, wider, and his mate's laughter stopped instantly. My skirt had ridden up my legs, and the material was stretched tight because of my open thighs. Rick bent his head and looked up my skirt. He blew his breath up my skirt and on my panties.

For a moment we were locked at this strange impasse. One of his friends said to let me go, Rick didn't straightaway. He bent his head and kissed my knee. My leg shuddered under his lips, and as he slowly pulled away, his hands ran down to my knees, but running in circles touching most of my legs.

He put his hand behind his ear, and I said thank you, but with a look on my face that he would know I said it begrudgingly. I was defiant, and I tugged my little skirt down, well aware that my green panties would have been visible to Rick when he looked up my skirt.

His mates started chuckling, like the last couple of minutes had not happened. But as I drove away from the garage Rick was motionless watching me leave. I just stared at his eyes in my rear view mirror.

When I got round the corner I stopped and looked down at the slight black oily smudge marks on my legs. I closed my eyes and I could see his face looking up my skirt. It was then that I started panting heavily, and hating myself for not being able to control things. I banged my fists on the steering wheel, and cursed because I had been so weak.

Last night as my husband fucked me, I had visions of Rick being on top of me. His grinning face and his short cropped black hair filled my mind, as did that inch long scar underneath his right eye. His eyes are crystal blue, and cold looking. As I imagined the rasping of his beard stubble chin on my pussy, I pushed my husband off me, and screamed no!

My husband was perplexed, but just got of and went for a drink. I lay on my side with the blanket pulled up to my nose hating the boy who had come between my husband and me, at such an intimate moment.

I have to stop reading because my sister will be here in a moment. She pops in for coffee and usually a moan. There she is right on cue. The bell goes and 5 seconds later it goes again. This is my sister for you. She thinks I have nothing better to do, other than wait by the door for her to turn up.

"Well what do you think?" she asks fussing with her hair, and not giving me time to answer, "Paul loves it and he's stopped going on about me getting a boob job. I've had dong the last two nights running. Be honest how do I look. The kids just say I look different, and it'll take getting used to."

"It's...nice. A little...well yes, different as the kids says."

"Well I like it, you don't have to," Julie snaps.

"Julie, it is different. I mean all of it, blond, why not just highlights?"

She rolls her eyes, "You're pissing me off little sister. Can't you say one nice thing about it?"

"Sorry yes it's lovely. A little drastic, but after a few days people will get used to it."

She holds her hand up, "Hang on, drastic," her eyes flick to my tits, and she doesn't but she nearly shudders, "you said drastic, and coming from you that's a laugh. You and those bloody things are drastic, and you've had plenty of time to get them sorted."

We calm down and have a coffee and wait for Paul to come in from dropping Harvey in town. Whenever I think about Paul I can't stop thinking about my fantasy with him. As he walks in he smiles and kisses my sister. I won't say I'm jealous, but why all of a sudden is he not leering at me, well my tits really. Oh I spoke too soon, he kisses the top of her head from behind as she sits in the kitchen chair, but his eyes are on my breasts, and I know I shouldn't be like this, but I give him a little smile.

My sister says she has to nip to the shop down the road, and I make Paul a coffee. I start pulling my clothes from the washing machine, and when I pull out my black bra, I have a little smile to myself. I stand talking to him whilst holding my bra. His eyes are drawn to it, and I can't help myself. I walk towards him and dangle my bra inches from his reddening face. I let the slightly wet bra cup brush his cheek. He pulls me onto his lap and I giggle. He pulls my off the shoulder jumper down, and scoops out my huge tits. He sucks on my nipples and gropes my other breast.

I can't help myself I slip off his knee, and pull his zip down. I shove his cock between my tits and start bouncing them. He's swearing and his cock is rock hard. I bend my head and stick out my tongue, licking the end of his cock every time it comes within reach. I open my mouth like I've dreamt of so many times, and he sprays up in my face. Hot cum splatters on my cheek and in my mouth.

I release him from my tits and dig a finger deep in my pussy. I have to come now and I've been on the verge for the last few minutes. I come feeling myself soak through my fingers, as his spunk hangs from my face. All too quickly the feeling dies inside, and I'm shuffling away wiping my face in my bra and holding back the tears. Paul too looks as guilty as hell. He picks up his phone and tells me in a quivering voice, he'll tell Julie he'll meet her down the road. I watch him wipe his tears as he looks in the mirror.

Doctor Trent.

Well that was a busy few days. As soon as I read the email that Sylvia sent me although she doesn't know she does, I had to act. I've put things right with my hypnosis on her and her sister's husband again. As usual, I send an email in which I tell Sylvia, to delete her diary entry, and my instruction telling her to do it. They both now think nothing happened, and I've learned a few things too. I didn't think I would have to do this again, but Julie had been back to my surgery. Still insisting I do more to change her son's mind. So I hypnotised both Sylvia and Paul over the phone to go at it again. Again this relates to the work on my mind chip. If I can hypnotise over the phone, then I'm sure I can some how send signals to the chip in someone's brain via a computer, to update or add to their memory while they are out on an operation.

So I've transferred my learning's to my work on the chip, which has been installed in subject number two's head. I did a simple experiment where the implanted chip told him, he was terrified of cats. He spent an hour backed into a corner while a cat lay sleeping. He was shaking and begging someone to take the cat away. Then I sent a message to the chip from my computer telling him, he no longer had a fear of cats. The result was he sat with the cat on his lap, stroking it. For the moment I regard it as a success, but only time will tell if I can use the chip from afar.

Sylvia came with me to Dora's funeral. I didn't hypnotise her to do that and left well alone sexually. Don't be fooled, there was a reason I asked her, which was a little bonding of friendships session. Even in my grief and sobbing into tissues, I noticed a few of the lesbian community eyeing Sylvia. She would be a fine catch, and of course others will have jealously issues over Sylvia and me, which I like the thought of. But for now I tell everyone she is a friend, but even that had some resentment from some of the bitches. Good!

April 3rd.

Dear diary, it is hard to know what to put into a speech of the official opening of a brothel. I've kept it light with a few innuendos, some of which tickled my husband as I rehearsed them. Making a speech is something I am dreading, you would not think a woman who runs a brothel should be so nervous, but alas I am!

I've been to Tom, and he has made an outfit which would suit such an opening. It is a long purple velvet dress, with a neckline that plunges to my naval. It has a thigh high split on my left leg, on the outside, and I have matching purple opera gloves. Tom, bless his heart, has gifted me a black choker to go with it, with a small sliver broach which has a naked lady reclining on it. I'll wear black seamed stockings with a black suspender belt. The stocking top and suspender strap will be exposed every time I take a step, in my black high heels, 5 inches would you believe, will boost my height as well as my standing, as the brothel's madam.

I tried it on last night over my naked body. My husband stood there and slipped his hand in the split. He told me to wear my hair up, as his fingers sought my pussy. He was aggressive and I couldn't stop him. As I twisted trying to get away, I watched my wriggling body in the mirror. He hissed in my ear that the men at our grand opening would try to get me into bed. I told him if the price was right, I'd gladly go with them.

The struggling stopped and his fingers withdrew. He asked me if that was serious response. For a moment I said nothing. Then I said it would cost a lot, but I would, and then added, if he would let his wife whore herself.

I could see something in my husband's eyes, as though what I had said had him wondering. It had me wondering too. He slipped the zip on my dress down and pulled it off my shoulders. I stepped out of my dress and as I hung it back up, Albert's fingers dug in my ass. It wasn't a harsh grab, but I went up on tiptoes.

He lay on top of me and pushed his cock in me. He asked me again if I would go with a man who paid for it. I told him in quite a teasing fashion that we were short of whores, and I would do what I had to do. It was a rare moment for me, wanting to feel his long cock in my pussy. He was excited too, and I knew if I did go with a paying client, it would not excuse me from a spanking. I told him in that case I would take on any man, no matter what he wanted, and that I would gladly walk past my husband on the gentleman's arm, and I would give my husband a happy enigmatic smile, which would ensure his jealousy.

I came on my husband's hard cock, and even wrapped my legs around his hips like any whore would. My husband came, and with such enthusiasm I think it could have been because of the thought of spanking, his whore wife.

April 6th.

Yesterday was a day of shocks, and memories I will not forget for some time, if ever. My husband reminded me of our love making the other night, and said there would be many men who would want to take me to one of the rooms. The morning of the opening I visited Tom at his dress shop. I had the spilt in my purple dress opened up further, from the top of my thigh up to my waist!

As I dressed in the outfit I have described to you a couple of pages ago, my husband watched from the bed. His lecherous eye soon worked out the split in my dress was higher. He came up to me and slipped his hand on thigh letting his fingers glide slowly up my suspender strap. I turned my head away from his kiss, as much to save a smudge on my lipstick as taunt him. He did not pursue my lips but moved back a few inches. I felt his fingers slip into the waistband of my panties and he pulled them down. I told him we did not have time, he just grinned at me, and said, he didn't want to fuck me, but just remove my panties. The thought of being naked under my dress was one which I found such a thrill, and I allowed him his wish. He asked me about the adjusted split. I simply told him, I was making sure I would catch a gentleman's eye, and his wallet.

I was very happy with the amount of people at the opening. It was mostly men but a couple of women who like girls had turned up. My girls flitted between the chatting men, offering drinks, and letting them have a feel. My girls all had new sexy outfits, and I thought they looked quite presentable. Candy was the star of the show, and many men sought her company, but she kept moving, staying neither to short nor neither to long in the male groups.

I made my speech at 9 o'clock, it was applauded and everyone was given a free glass of champagne. To my surprise my husband had hired a famous stand up comic, who I will not name to protect his identity, as would be the norm in such a place. He was later seen heading for one of the rooms with a girl of his choosing.

At 10 o'clock a group of girls, 6 to be exact, entered my brothel. They were whores my husband had hand picked to get us through the night. I wasn't to happy with this surprise, but I soon realised they would be needed.

The judge who had made me marry Albert was there, and took my gloved hand and kissed it, wishing me well on my venture. I smiled politely and thanked him, not worrying that he had slipped his hand in the split of my dress, and fingered me for a few seconds. Martin Bolton came up to me and said he had been round my brothel, and he had a business proposal for me, and would I go to his newspaper's office in a few days. I told him I would, which I have no intention of doing, but I did not want to offend anyone on such an important night for me, and my venture.