Surviving the Pandemic Pt. 01

My employer announced that those of us who could work from home might have to take that approach, but those who needed to be in the office might be looking at a short-term layoff. My position required that I be at the office since I recorded production levels daily. Everyone seemed to think a month off could be dealt with, especially since we could all apply for unemployment benefits.

As news of the pandemic spreading worldwide became the focal point of every news program, it became evident that a month off was a best-case scenario.

My pay envelope for the end of March contained the dreaded pink slip, along with instructions on how to apply for benefits. When I got home, I called Gwen to let her know the bad news. She was working as an LPN at a local hospital and had been informed that she very well might be required to work double shifts for the foreseeable future. "This pandemic is going to take a lot of lives," she mentioned.

I called Connie and Jack, who were already quarantined to their dorm rooms and were continuing their studies remotely, but both of them told me that might change at the end of the semester.

Weeks turned into months, and by the fall, it was becoming painfully obvious that my benefits would not cover my monthly expenses. If my kids were sent home, I'd fall further and further behind.

On one of her infrequent days off, Gwen stopped by for a visit. She looked worn out, a result of working double shifts for several months and witnessing the toll in lives taken by Covid.

"I'm so very worried," I said as we sat at my kitchen table sharing a cup of tea.

She had noticed the stack of unpaid bills in the middle of the table, and as usual, offered a suggestion. "I know a couple that might be able to help you out."

I was open to any ideas to see my way out and asked, "How could they help me?"

"They have run an agency for several years that provides women to a very discrete clientele," Gwen explained.

I have to admit that I was somewhat shocked by her description of this agency and bluntly asked, "So it's a whore house?"

Gwen smiled and then said, "Yes, technically, but they cater to upscale clients. Mostly businessmen, but also couples and single ladies."

"How do you know this couple?" I asked.

"Before Covid, I worked for them part-time," Gwen admitted.

I giggled before saying, "You were a part-time prostitute."

"Yes, and even working part-time, I still made very good money," she answered.

I liked the sound of making good money, but I knew that I'd be very nervous giving myself to men who were only interested in one thing. I've fantasized about being a street corner hooker, dressing in extremely revealing clothing and waiting under a light for a man to pull up and ask me to either fuck him or provide a quick blowjob for cash.

"Tell me more about how it works," I asked.

"Okay, Peter and Katie like to describe their place as a playhouse. There is a large family room where the girls wait for customers, and about a half dozen private bedrooms spread throughout the house. Each girl is assigned to a room, and once a client chooses her, she takes them to her room. Katie serves as the hostess and discusses prices with the customer before they make a choice. The price depends on what the client wants. Peter kind of oversees the entire operation providing protection for his employees and handling day-to-day maintenance of the whole place. I never asked, but I think he also takes care of any problems with local law enforcement." Gwen explained.

"Sounds pretty much how I'd expect a whore house to operate," I said.

"It does, but a girl can make extra money if she wants to. If Katie agrees to provide vaginal sex, which by the way requires the use of condoms, for let's say five hundred the house takes fifty percent. If you convince the client to add a blowjob, you get seventy-five percent of that fee," Gwen said.

"So, Gwen, how much did you make working part-time?" I asked.

"I usually worked weekends, Saturday night and Sunday afternoons. My best weekend was twenty-five hundred," she said.

"How many..." I began to ask, but Gwen already knew what I was asking and replied, "Ten or so."

I did a little mental math and decided that if I went this route and worked four days a week, I could clear at least thirty-five hundred, a sum that would resolve my current financial problems.

I still had some serious conflicts in my mind about becoming a prostitute. Morally I always felt that consensual sex was something to be shared with your lover. If I chose to start turning tricks, I'd have to ignore my morals and be willing to offer my body to the next client through the door. The pressure of my current situation and the thought that this fucking pandemic could go on endlessly drove my decision.

"How do I meet Peter and Katie?" I asked.

"Give me a minute, I'll call Katie," Gwen responded as she stood up and walked outside.

While I waited, I thought about the possibilities. I don't exactly see myself as overly sexy, even though my body has all the right curves and my big tits would most certainly gain the attention of most men. What I did have going for myself were my sexual talents. I'm not sure if this had anything to do with it, but forgoing sex for so long, my pussy had tightened, and being a forty-something mature woman with a tight cunt couldn't be a bad thing. On top of that, my 36 DD tits would provide a delightful place for a man to bury his cock. One final talent is my proclivity for oral sex. Having a man slip his rock-hard cock between my lips and sucking him to orgasm provides him with immense pleasures and feeds my craving for the taste of a man's cum.

Gwen returned with a massive smile on her lips. "I spoke with Katie, explained your situation, and gave her a basic description of your looks. She's interested in meeting you; I took the liberty of setting up your initial interview with her and Peter Monday afternoon at one o'clock," she said.

"That's great, Gwen," I answered.

"When I first met them, the interview was quite lengthy, so expect to be there for three or four hours," she said.

"How do you think I should dress?" I asked.

Gwen laughed and then replied, "Penny, you're interviewing for a job as a prostitute. Isn't it obvious how you should dress?"

It was a silly question, and perhaps my next was just as foolish, "Did you fuck them when you interviewed?"

She laughed again and then said, "Why do you think it takes four hours to interview for a job with them? At first, Peter took me to a private bedroom and had me demonstrate my skills sucking cock. After that, Katie came in and gave me a chance to pleasure her with my mouth, and then Peter joined us and determined how well I fucked. You're going to love the taste of his cum."

"Did you do anal?" I asked.

"I did whatever the client was willing to pay for," Gwen replied.

I giggled and then said, "You're such a slut."

"Why do you think the clients are willing to pay for sex? It's because they can have sex with a woman who acts like a slut. Keep that in mind; it'll add to your bottom line," she answered.

"I think I'm gonna like being a slut," I answered.

Gwen rose from her chair and, as she slipped on her coat, said, "I'm expecting a call from you Monday night."

"Count on it," I answered as I gave her a tight hug.

****************

I woke up early Monday morning with butterflies of stress fluttering in my stomach. Today is when I'd try and convince two total strangers that I could satisfy their client's sexual fantasies.

As I sipped my morning tea, I thought about how I'd appear waiting for a client to select me to pleasure them. In my mind, I imagined an experienced whore dressed in sexy black lingerie, wearing a sheer robe to conceal her curves partially. Crossed legs with an ultra-high stiletto dangling off one foot and, of course, silk stockings covering her long sexy legs. Then again, perhaps a proper prostitute might dress in a colorful satin lounging set, hiding most if not all of her sensual body, allowing the client to use his imagination to draw an image of what he'd discover once alone with her. Neither mental image did anything to fend off the butterflies in the pit of my stomach.

"First things first, Penny," I thought, knowing I'd have to ace my interview before I could begin thinking of such things.

I stripped out of my pajamas and studied my appearance in the vanity mirror. My big tits drooped a little from their sheer weight, and my areolas seemed more significant than I remembered. I recall how taut my nipples became as I breastfed the twins, but those days are long gone, and my nipples no longer become that erect. Below my tits, my belly has an ever so slight pouch resulting from carrying my babies, a condition that a couple of days a week in the gym might improve. Since my sex life was nearly non-existent, I'd let my pubic hair go untrimmed for several months, a condition I could improve on today. Using my hair clippers, I thinned out the bush above my labia and then shaved the edges so nothing would show outside the fabric of my panties. I considered shaving it into a straight landing strip but decided I could make that change if Peter and Katie thought it would entice their clients. Since I had my shaving tools handy, I quickly shaved my legs and armpits also.

While I showered, I ran my fingertips through my pubic hair and enjoyed the sensation when my digits found my clit. I was feeling sexy, so I spent the time massaging my hard clit through a couple of self-induced orgasms. That took the edge off the stress I was still feeling.

I don't usually do a whole lot with my hair other than shampooing and towel drying it. Still, today I was trying to impress two folks who most likely noticed hairstyles, so I blew dried it and then curled my ends, finally brushing the tight curls out into a more seductive wavy style.

I applied very light make-up and only the thinnest of clear lip gloss, knowing that any color would be smudged by the Covid required face mask I'd be wearing while outside.

"Now, what to wear," I thought as I shuffled through my underwear drawer. I don't own any thongs but found a pair of full fashion black panties near the bottom of the drawer. They felt sensual, and I loved the tiny bit of lace at the side where the garment rounded my full hips. Next, I stretched a sheer black bra around my body, hooked the three clasps in front, and then spun the bra around and tucked my big 36DD tits into the cups. My darker areolas showed nicely through the diaphanous material. I carefully slipped my legs into a pair of dark nylon stockings and snapped the top hem as high on my thighs as possible. I slipped on my highest heels, a pair of black patten leather pumps with a three-inch stiletto-style heel. I surveyed my reflection in the mirror. "Not too bad," I thought, hoping that at some point, this view of my body would give rise to Peter's cock.

I considered wearing a pair of snug slacks but decided it better to give them a glimpse of my shapely legs, so I shimmied into a rather tight-fitting navy-blue skirt that featured a slit that ran from the hem to mid-thigh. There was no doubt in my mind that I needed to show off my 36DD tits and the soft, warm cleavage between, so I picked a white button-up sweater leaving the top four buttons undone and revealing as much skin as possible.

Those butterflies in my stomach somehow began to feel like hummingbirds as I drove to the address Gwen had given me. Pulling to a stop at the mailbox marked with their house number, I looked over the place. It looked more like a farm than a brothel, and after rechecking the number, turned left into a long straight dirt driveway. I noticed a small sign that directed visitors to a paved parking area behind the barn as I approached the house, an area that could easily handle ten or twelve vehicles. I rounded the barn and noticed another small sign mounted on one of the porch columns that said "Welcome" So far, Peter and Katie's sex agency had all the earmarks of a discrete whore house.

My fingers trembled as I reached for and pressed the doorbell. "No turning back now," I thought.

Time seemed to slow down, and as I considered ringing the bell a second time, the door opened.

"Hi, I'm Peter,"

"Nice to meet you; I'm Penny," I answered.

I estimated Peter to be in his early fifties, his dark wavy hair accented by wisps of gray at his temples. He towered above me, standing at least six feet five inches tall. His wedged-shaped torso clearly showed under the tight short-sleeved tee-shirt he wore. I avoided letting my eyes drop to his loins, not wanting to be that obvious. On the other hand, Peter had no problem studying my body from head to foot as we stood in the kitchen of his place.

"Katie will join us in a few minutes," he remarked.

I just smiled politely at him.

"So, is Penny short for Penelope?" he asked.

"As a matter of fact, it is," I answered.

"Penny is so child-like, I think Penelope fits you better," he said then added, "Penelope rolls off my tongue much better,"

I grinned at him, wondering if I'd be rolling off his tongue in other ways later in the day.

"Let's wait for Katie in the office," Peter suggested as he ushered me into the office off one end of the kitchen.

The office was huge, one wall covered with floor to ceiling shelves displaying all sorts of trinkets and trophies. At one end, there was a massive desk in front of a bow window that had several potted plants on the wide shelf. Two leather chairs faced the desk, and off to the side, a matching leather sofa offered a more comfortable seating area.

"Have a seat," Peter said, pointing at one of the chairs. I was somewhat surprised when he took the other.

I crossed my legs, giving him an opportunity to have a look at my shapely calf and that part of my thigh revealed by the split in my skirt. I didn't bother to hide the lacy top of my stocking that showed.

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice." I offered.

"Gwen gave you a glowing recommendation," he replied.

"She's been my best friend since I was twenty-two," I said.

He smiled and said, "We're hopeful that once this pandemic passes, she'll join us again."

Just then, I heard a female voice from behind, "Did you test her, Peter?"

"Oh, shit, I forgot again," he replied.

I turned enough to catch a glimpse of the woman as she turned and walked back into the kitchen.

"Katie is a stickler about this whole Covid deal," Peter said.

A moment later, she returned carrying a thermal thermometer. "Hi, I'm Katie," she said as she pointed the instrument at my forehead.

"Ninety-eight point five, you're good to go, Penny," Katie announced.

I smiled at her and got my first opportunity to look her over. Katie appeared to be in her mid-forties; she was about five feet six inches tall and had platinum blonde shoulder-length hair. Her eyes are crystal blue and are highlighted by a dark shade of eye shadow. She was wearing a pair of white slacks with an arrow straight crease down the length of her legs and a vee neck pullover sweater that showed off the very top of her cleavage. The slacks rested perfectly on the tops of her four-inch stilettos. I was glad I'd decided to wear my snug skirt instead of the white pants I'd considered earlier. She has a robust figure, curves in all the right places, and to my surprise, her tits seemed larger than mine.

As she rounded the desk, Peter offered, "I think her appearance demands that we call her by her full name. Penelope is much sexier than Penny."

Katie sat down and smiled at me, "Are you okay with that, Penelope?" she asked.

"Absolutely," I replied.

Katie opened a file folder and said, "Let's get started."

"I have a Covid-19 questionnaire I'd like to complete," she said.

For the next couple of minutes, Katie asked me the standard questions about symptoms and if I'd been in contact with anyone who had tested positive. I happily answered no to all eight questions.

She placed the form face down on her desk and then continued. "If we decide to hire you, you'll be tested for Covid weekly. For obvious reasons, we can't afford to have one of our clients coming down with the virus, so we've decided to take a rather aggressive approach to employee testing."

"I'm good with that," I replied.

We'll also require that you submit to testing for STDs every month. We've made arrangements to have those tests performed at a local women's health clinic, but you'll be responsible for the costs of the tests.

"Fine," I answered.

"Good, so tell us a little about yourself," Katie suggested.

I thought for a moment, then began, "I'm forty-two, never married, but I do have two college-age children."

"Do you mind if I take some notes?" she asked.

"Not at all," I said and then continued. "I've had a few relationships but nothing long term or extensive. Up until the pandemic, I worked as a production controller for a local manufacturing company. When the lockdown was announced and production stopped, I was laid off."

"Gwen mentioned that," Katie offered.

"The government benefits just don't cover my monthly expenses, and when I spoke with Gwen, she told me you might be able to help me out," I said.

"That's why we're here," Katie replied.

I just smiled at her.

"Let me tell you a little about our business. We cater to a very exclusive client base, for the most part extremely wealthy. They expect a certain degree of sophistication in the girls we employ. For the most part, our clients are middle-aged men, but we also have couples and single women who look to us for their discrete needs."

I was listening closely to every adjective Katie used.

"Our clients pay a premium to ensure discretion and demand that their activities here stay here," she explained.

"I understand, Katie," I replied.

It was clear that Katie was in charge, and while I gave her my undivided attention, I occasionally glanced toward Peter, who hadn't said a word but was clearly sizing my body up.

"Drug use is strictly forbidden, here or away from the farm. Any suspected use of illegal drugs is grounds for immediate termination. NO exceptions," she said, emphasizing the word NO.

Some of our clients may offer to share a joint or a line of coke, but you'll politely decline. We want our employees to have a clear head at all times. We don't frown on an occasional drink, but once again, any impairment may very well cut into our profits and, ultimately, your income.

"I'm not much of a drinker," I offered.

"Speaking of income, this is a cash business. We pay our employees with cash; if you choose to report it as income, that is your decision, but most of our girls stash their pay somewhere at home or in a safe deposit box," she said.

"So basically, it's non-taxable," I asked.

"No, it is taxable, but like most waitresses, it can easily be under reported," she explained.

There are a couple of other things you'll be responsible for. They include your wardrobe and keeping a good supply of condoms in your dresser. Condoms are required for vaginal or anal sex but not for oral." Katie remarked.

Peter finally chimed in, "We keep the place spotlessly clean, changing the bedding after every client and having the bar stocked with an assortment of drinks for our customers. If we decide to take you on, you'll share a room with two other girls, each having a dresser where you can store your clothes and other essentials."

Katie took over once again, "Earlier, I asked you to tell me about yourself, and since you didn't offer, I'll ask about your sexual preferences."

Somehow, I knew that this interview would lead to this, so I answered, "Ask away."

"I'll assume vaginal sex is something you enjoy; what about anal?"