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Laid Off Then Laid


When my wife talks about getting laid, I know exactly what she means. But when her boss mentioned the L-word, it came with a wholly different meaning: laid off.

That's what happened when the Vegas casino she worked for decided that business was slow. And she wasn't alone. Thousands of her workers around the city were also laid off, making the prospects of her getting a new job bleak.

My job could pay most of the bills, but after several months, our budget was a bust. Marcy knew we were getting deep into trouble with little hope of keeping up with the bills while the credit card limits edged ever closer.

To earn a few bucks, Marcy babysat the kids of a few of her work friends who were lucky enough to keep their jobs. Maria is a nice girl; a little on the plump side, but that's fine for her waitress job in a casino coffee shop. Maria's husband Steve is a man on the prowl, always hustling a buck, which is fine for his job as a valet for high rollers. I would have to be blind to see that he has also always had an eye for my wife.

One Thursday night, while Steve and Maria were over to pick up their baby girl, the two women were inside talking while Steve and I sat outside on the patio drinking the last of my beers. Johnny, he said, you've got problems. Obviously an understatement, but I was too depressed to do anything but sit and listen. I can help you two to get back on your feet, if you can convince Marcy to take a job that I've offered her.

It took 20 minutes for Steve to explain everything, during which time, I just sat there and listened with my mouth open. But before we could go any farther, Maria opened the door, called her husband and led him to their car.

Later that night as Marcy and I lay in bed, I put my hand between her legs and casually stroked her pussy lips just to keep her interested.

Honey, you never mentioned Steve's job offer? That caught her by surprise and she stopped my hand, just looking into my eyes.

Marcy whispered, he talked to you about it? Geez, I'll kill him and tell his wife. If he needs a whore, why doesn't Maria do it?

That sort of summed it up. Steve needed a girl to handle the "special requests" he frequently got from his clients. I can understand why he approached my wife. Besides needing the money, Marcy has a body to keep any guy hard. No, she's not a supermodel. But at 5'4", 105 pounds with 33C breasts and long flowing hair, Marcy is the epitome of a shy and quiet China Doll. There is a great deal to be said about Asian sexual mystique. At least that's what Steve thinks. To me, Marcy is simply my gorgeous wife.

Steve told me he tried to get Marcy to work for him as soon as she got laid off, but she told him a definite no and nothing more was said. But now, with money getting scarce, Steve probably figured it was time to raise the subject again.

His proposal was straightforward. When high rollers needed an escort for a night, they called Steve. He had that reputation. It might just be for company at the gambling table, at the dinner table, or for a special "dessert" in a private suite. These were men who thought nothing of dropping $50,000 or $60,000 at the tables every night. And when they tipped, it was by the thousands.

John, I can't believe he told you that. He's insane, I could never be a hooker.

Honey, it's okay, but why didn't you tell me?

I didn't want you to get mad.

I wasn't mad, but she was brooding. She quickly turned her back to me, pulled the covers up and went to sleep.

On Saturday, I was trying to balance the checkbook, and it was clear we weren't going to meet all the bills this month. A loan was out of the question. Even if we could cut our budget back a little bit more, it wouldn't get us the money we needed in time. Something had to give.

John, what did you think when Steve brought up his proposition.

I told her I was stunned and didn't know what to say. Of course, ever since then I'd been thinking about my wife having sex with some rich guy for money, but I couldn't admit that to her. Instead, I assured her we would find some way to pay the bills.

John, I can read our bank statement as well as you, and I know we're screwed.

I could tell what her next words would be and how hard it was for her to say them.

I think we need to have another talk with Steve tonight.

Marcy called Steve, but there wasn't much to say. If Marcy agreed to work for him, what would she have to do? Anything and everything. She could act shy in public, but she had to be enthusiastic behind closed doors. In fact, a client had already talked to him today, needing a date at 9 that evening. Wear something slinky but elegant and be at the hotel by 8:30.

When Marcy hung up the phone, she just looked at me and said, I'm sorry. I told her, it was okay. If she couldn't do it, we would find another way. But she had made up her mind.

At 7:00, Marcy started getting dressed. She hadn't eaten anything all day, and I could understand why. The outfit she chose was a black leather skirt and a silver metallic handkerchief top that framed her breasts and left her back completely exposed. Simple black pumps with a 3" heel and pantyhose completed her outer appearance. Under the skirt, Marcy wore the skimpiest black g-string she owned. Her makeup was perfect and her hair simply flowed down her back like silk. Geez, I married a beautiful woman. Tonight, some other guy is going to learn just how lucky a husband I am. I didn't worry about her getting pregnant because, after trying for five years, the doctors told us Marcy couldn't conceive.

Off she went to her new 'job.' I knew she wouldn't be back till morning.

I'm no masochist. I could have followed her to the casino to catch a glimpse of the guy she was meeting. For my own sanity, it was better to stay at home and go to sleep, pretending at least to sleep.

Marcy didn't come home in the morning. It was the afternoon. 2:13 to be exact. And she was smiling.

As I opened the door, she ran to my arms, screaming 'Johnny, I love you. God how I missed you.' Not the greeting I was expecting, but then I didn't know what to expect. Instead of the sexy outfit from last night, she was wearing a perfectly tailored pair of tan slacks and a silk blouse.

We went into the living room and sat on the couch, me with my arms wrapped around her.

Steve took me straight to the high roller's salon and put me behind one of the chairs, whispering my name into the player's ear. The customer, Joseph, was about 40, trim build, but slightly balding. For the first hour, all I did was stand there while he played black jack. My gosh, he was betting $1500 a hand and he just kept winning. All the sudden, he just got up, took my hand in his and we walked to the private elevator. I guess the house made sure his winnings were credited to his account, because there was $200,000 in chips at the table. When we got to his suite, there was a butler waiting at the dining table. Lobster and it was delicious, with wines that made my head spin. We talked about Vegas, restaurants, his travels around the world. All the sudden, it was midnight, and the waiter was gone. Marcy, was that all you did? Talk?

No, Honey, then we danced in the suite which was enormous. I'll admit I was tipsy because I didn't feel him undo the strings to my top until after he was licking my breasts. His shirt was silk, and I loved the feel of it under my hands. Really, he was gentle as he helped me slip out of my skirt and hose. It felt so wonderful to undress him, then to lead him to the gigantic bed.

Geez, she was making me hot. I didn't feel jealous so much as uncomfortable as my dick was wedged beneath her.

Joseph never said a word. But it was easy to guess what he wanted as he lay on his back. I moved down his body and started licking his knob. His penis wasn't huge, only about six inches. So I was able to take nearly all of it into my mouth without gagging, bobbing my head up and down for five minutes.

Then, I climbed up his chest, straddled his hips, took hold of his dick and pushed myself down on him. I knew, since I was the "working girl" this wasn't about me. I wanted to make sure he enjoyed the ride and the way he started screaming, I knew my kegel exercises were paying off. He pulled me forward and started sucking my tits into his mouth. I came so hard, it felt like an explosion, but then he blew up inside of me and I just collapsed on top of him.

I was about to roll off of him, but he said no, so I fell asleep on top of him, with his dick buried in my cunt. That's the way we woke up at noon. He had a morning hard on inside of me, stuck deeply wedged in my now dry pussy. He laughed a little bit, then started playing with my tits, sucking and rubbing them. Before too long, my juices were flowing and we were able to start fucking in earnest.

I started walking to the bathroom, but he stopped me, took my hand and guided me to the oversized shower. Instead of letting me use the commode, he knelt down in front of me inside the shower, and told me to go ahead and do my business. It was definitely kinky, but as I started to pee on him, he aimed the head of his penis at my vagina and started to pee. We literally crossed streams then turned on the shower to clean up.

Brunch was waiting on the dining table when we walked out. Joseph dropped his robe and sat down naked, then pulled my robe off me and had me sit on his lap. That's how we ate, feeding each other as we felt each other up.

Sometime while we were eating, the housekeepers snuck into the bedroom through another door and cleaned up the room. I found my clothes neatly cleaned and pressed, wrapped in a bag. Another package held the clothes I'm wearing now. Joseph said he guessed at the size and had his personal concierge send them up. When he ever made the call, I just don't know. But then he kissed me, thanked me for a wonderful evening and said my car would be waiting at the high roller valet.

The one thing I didn't ask my wife was the question that brought us to that point on a Sunday afternoon. I didn't have to ask because, after finishing her story, Marcy reached into the bag and brought out an envelope. I'd never seen $15,000 dollars before, but that was her tip for the night.

We made slow, passionate love for the rest of the afternoon. Then that evening, I overheard Marcy on the phone with Steve, asking when her next date would be. I guess she's found a new job after all.

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