It was after six-thirty when Melissa reached home, but Martin hadn't arrived yet. She had a terrific headache and hoped the coffee would steady her nerves.
In her haste to leave the party and because of her giddiness, she had forgotten to claim the fee Mr. Sandino had promised for the job. That meant she would have to get it from him tomorrow.
She was suffering from a sense of guilt, in spite of the enjoyment she had received from being fucked by a stranger. She realized that she was acting like a nymph. Martin would never understand.
She sought to rationalize the matter by insisting that she wasn't going to bed with just anyone; they had to have money. Then, she realized with a start that because she had accepted payment for her favors, she was becoming a prostitute.
As she sipped her coffee, she told herself she wouldn't do it again. Regardless of how much money Martin lost, she wouldn't accept payment for fucking men. She didn't want to say the word but it continued to well up in her thoughts. She bit her lips, then permitted them to form the word.
"Whore."
She said it again, then once more, much louder.
"Whore!"
It was almost eight o'clock when Martin finally arrived. She heard him whistling as he parked the car in the garage. He sounded very happy. She pretended to be busy dishing up the food.
"You sound pleased," she said as he came through the door from the garage.
He was exuberant. He gave her a kiss on the back of the neck and grabbed her about the waist. "I won, honey!" he exclaimed with pride. "I won five hundred bucks."
She laid down her spoon and turned in his grasp so she could face him. His eyes were bright with pleasure.
"So much!" she exclaimed. "That's wonderful." "I really had the cards tonight, Lissa. The fellows never had a chance. He gave a strong laugh, then kissed her on the lips. "What's for dinner?"
"Stew. I hope you don't mind."Sounds great, but tomorrow we'll have steak." "Honey, you're so wonderful," she assured him. "Anything for my doll!"
He held out his hand so she could see the money it contained. "Four hundred bucks! Every dime of it mine. I won five, they kept the one I owed them and I've… we've got four. We're in, sweetheart!"
Five hundred dollars! That was the exact amount she had been promised for…
She frowned as the thought hit her. She hadn't been paid by Sandino but Martin had won five hundred dollars. Why not three or six hundred? Why that amount? She didn't want to believe what she was beginning to suspect. She would ask Mr. Sandino, tomorrow, to make sure.
When she called the next morning, Sandino wasn't at the number he had given her and she had no other way of contacting him. All she could do was sit and wait for him to call her. Because she was so bored and so determined not to take another assignment from Anderson, she decided to go shopping.
After hours of trudging the streets and thumbing through the dress racks without any luck, she decided to have lunch.
A familiar figure moved by her as she entered the door of the restaurant. Melissa paused, then called to her neighbor.
"Lois. It's nice to see you."
Lois turned back.
"Melissa! Nice to run into you. Haven't seen you much lately!"
"I've been busy."
"Me too. I got the job."
"Nice. Which one?"
Lois grasped her arm. "Are you in a hurry? Want to talk?"
Melissa nodded. "Sure. I came in to get something to eat. I'm starving, how about you?"
"Me too," Lois said. "I came over to get some baby oil. It's marvelous for chapped hands."
They sat down at a lunch counter.
"Tell me about the job? Which one?"
"The massage thing? Well, I went in the next day after we talked and they put me to work."
Melissa beamed her approval. "That's nice."
Lois grimaced. "The first day was a little rough. You know, with strange men and things."
"Did you get taken care of?" Melissa asked.
Lois laughed. "I sure did. The first time I was so nervous that I forgot to take my pants off. The guy did it for me. He climbed up on me and pushed his cock into my cunt like he was afraid it would run away. It was wild, Melissa!"
They both laughed.
"How did J. D. take it?"
Lois put a finger to her lips. "He doesn't know, honey. Don't you tell him. He thinks I'm working in a nursery. You know, where they keep pre-school kids while the parents work."
"I won't breathe a word," Melissa promised. "Tell me all about it."
"It's at the Staircase. They have three little rooms and you take the john into one of them and ask what he wants. If he says massage, you give him a massage."
"Suppose he wants something else?" Lois shrugged. "You give him what he wants." "Can you make money.
"Sure. You get three dollars for a fifteen-minute massage, ten dollars for a blow job and whatever the guy will give you to let him fuck you."
"A hundred dollars?"
Lois shook her head. "Gosh no, honey. The guys usually offer twenty, thirty, sometimes even forty dollars. They don't have a lot of money, but they don't expect much either.
Forty dollars, Melissa mused. Think of that, laying down on a hard table and let a man stick his cock into you for a measly forty dollars. She had just turned down a job that paid three hundred and up.
"Sounds great," she said aloud. "Must be fun." "The old men are the best," Lois said. "They come in, looking all scared and worried because they don't know what it's about. When you get them in a room, they are too bashful to ask you to take your clothes off I gave one old guy a nude massage, then got on the table so he could eat my pussy. He lapped at it like he hadn't seen a cunt in ten years, then he tried to push his cock into me and it was so limp it wouldn't go. I gave him a local and it raised up and went poof. That was all."
Lois laughed, then lowered her voice. "I felt so sorry for him that I told him to keep the ten dollars. He was so pleased he was ready to cry."
She wiped a tear from her eye, caused by her laughter, then slid from the stool.
"Time's up, Melissa. I better get back. I have a one-thirty appointment, a salesman who wants to get his balls cracked this afternoon so he won't mess up a sales appointment tonight. Ain't that a kick!" She waved. "See ya!" She hurried out of the store.
At four-thirty, Mr. Sandino called.
"Sorry I missed you, Melissa. Had an important engagement. You know about the money, of course?"
"What money?" she asked.
"We let your husband win your money playing poker. He thinks he really won it and he won't need to know about you and me."
Melissa frowned. "I don't understand," she declared with mounting suspicion. "I earned the money, I want it myself."
"This is the same thing," Sandino said. "When your husband lost money, you worked to pay off his losses. This way he does it all and there's no problem. He's happy and so are we."
"I don't like it."
"Sometimes we can give you a little extra, to play along. Like Friday night."
"What's happening Friday night?"
"We have three bigwigs in from Phoenix and they want to have some fun. We can have dinner around seven, then go out to the club and swim. After that you can dance, then go to bed."
"No," Melissa said.
"You should have an enjoyable evening and everyone will be happy."
She thought about it for a moment, remembering the problems of keeping things from her husband.
"Martin won't stand for it," she said. "We usually go to a movie Friday night."
Sandino's voice came back bold and demanding. "Not this Friday. We have a big poker game scheduled and your husband will be one of the prime hands."
Melissa exploded in anger. "NO!" she snapped. "No! I won't let him do it."
Sandino was unfazed by her show of temper. "He could possibly win a thousand dollars, Melissa. Do you think he would be pleased to miss a game like that?"
Melissa was astonished. She hadn't known that so much money was possible.
"A thousand dollars," she repeated. "He could win that much?"
"We will make sure that he wins that much," Sandino said. "That's how much your fee will be for the party Friday night."
"I still can't do it."
"Why not?"
"Martin would want to know where I was going."
Sandino's voice chuckled in her ear. "He already knows about the party. • We mentioned that we would ask you to come so he could be free Friday night."
Melissa didn't know what to say. She stared dumbly at the wall.
Sandino continued. "He thinks you will be entertained to keep you happy during the game. If you like, it can break up at midnight or, if things go right, it can carry on until morning."
"Why so late?" she inquired.
"My clients like to drink, then they like to play. It could be a full night."
Melissa sighed. "Martin wouldn't know?"
"Not unless you tell him."
"And if I refuse?" she inquired.
The voice on the phone became even more firm. "In that case we will have to explain to Martin why he won five hundred dollars. I don't think he would like that."
Fear seized Melissa. She hadn't even considered that possibility. "I'm sure he wouldn't," she said in a humble voice.
"Be ready at seven. A car will pick you up and bring you to the club."
"I'll be ready," she agreed.
She put the phone back on the cradle.
What could she do now? If she went to the party, she was certain she would be fucked. If she refused, Sandino would tell Martin that he hadn't won any money, that it was money she had earned as a call girl. He would never understand such a situation. He might even divorce her and she couldn't let him do that. She loved Martin too much.
After two martinis Melissa decided that there wouldn't be any harm in going along with Sandino one more time.
The next two days went by so slowly that Melissa was thankful when Friday finally arrived.
She spent Friday morning thinking about the party and making certain that her dress fit properly. At five-thirty, Martin called saying he wouldn't be home for dinner and for her to go see a movie.
Melissa took this as a signal that all was clear and began to get ready for the evening. At seven o'clock, a black automobile rolled up to a spot just beyond the driveway and stopped. It remained silent, waiting.
She strode out, noting that the driver still had not emerged and assumed that such had been his instructions. He opened the front door, indicating she should sit beside him rather than in the back. She accepted the position, settling down into the soft upholstery.
"Sorry if I kept you waiting," she said quietly.
"No sweat," he answered.
His bold eyes appraised her tight see-through blouse, then his gaze shifted to the gap in the skirt and the shorts that showed through.
"The pleasure is all mine," he said simply.
It was almost dark when they entered the country-club driveway.
"Mr. Sandino said to bring you in the back way," the driver confided as they drove through the parking lot to a position at the rear of the building. "He didn't want you bothered by other guests."
Other guests, she assumed, meant Martin and his poker-playing friends.
She followed her guide in through the back door and down a service hallway where Sandino met them at the door of a reserved room.
It was extremely quiet, she noticed. The men who stood up to greet her appeared well to do. The looks on their faces, their clothing and the way they talked, indicated money. After the usual introductions, Sandino departed, leaving her in the companionship of her "date" for the evening.
He introduced himself as Thomas Durant and she was pleased that he liked her. He looked so fatherly, so friendly.
In the process of becoming acquainted, she found it easy to explain to Thm that she was married, no children, loved her husband and worked to help him acquire some of the luxuries he desired.
"You're not a prostitute, are you?" he asked casually.
The question surprised her and she didn't know how to answer it.
He sensed her reluctance and chuckled.
"You don't have to say either yes or no if you don't want to," he told her.
"It isn't that," she murmured. She stared into his face and his understanding smile made her feel better. "It may sound silly," she added, "I don't know the answer."
His hand rested on a stockinged knee. "You mean you aren't selling your body for money?"
"I mean I don't do this…" She paused. Now she was confused. She searched for the words to explain. "With me, it isn't a business," she said.
She could see he was pleased and the hand on her knee began to rub gently, working slowly up toward the leg of her miniskirt.
"I like that. It means you came because you wanted something other than money."
She nodded. "I came because I wanted to help my husband."
He gave her a light pat on the leg. "That's a very commendable way to look at it."
She lowered her eyes and stared at her glass, remembering only vaguely that it had been given to her and that she had instantly downed the liquor it contained.
Two other women had arrived, girls who were overdressed, heavily made up. Definitely as call girls. The two young men accepted them as their "dates".
They ate in a small dining room, dining on steak and lobster and white wine. And all the time they conversed, his hand was on her leg, worming down between them, reaching to feel her pussy. It was all so animal-like, she reflected, and she really didn't like him that well.
His fingers were clawing at the crotch of her panties and she wiggled because the tight fabric was biting into her pussy and it hurt. She realized that she didn't want to fuck him, she didn't want him pawing her body and; above all, she didn't want his finger scratching the tender lips of her cunt.
She was relieved when dinner was over and they went back to the comfort of the meeting room.
Durant stood close to her, as if patiently waiting for her to make a comment. Instead, she straightened the waist band of her skirt. He was following every movement.
"Don't you intend to get undressed so we can start the sex games?"
She fumbled with the band of the skirt, Undressed? Did he mean for her to undress right there?
"Games?" she repeated. "What kind of games?"
"Anything. You can get down on your hands and knees and I'll fuck you dog-fashion or I can sit on a chair and you sit in my lap. Anything that will make for fun."
"You're kidding!"
He was staring at her skirt as if trying to see through them. "Not at all. You did know you were expected to fuck, didn't you?"
Melissa was embarrassed. She tried to speak, but couldn't.
"We're all friends here," he said in a fatherly tone. "Sex to us is very important and it doesn't matter how many people are looking on. I would prefer that we got down to the fucking bit. I haven't had any cunt for a few days and I'm feeling really horny."
He voiced his request with the same casualness that he had used in offering a drink. Would you like a martini now, or wait until later? Do you want to undress so we can fuck flow, or wait until later? Melissa found his straight-forwardness perplexing.
He was picking at the buttons of her blouse, unbuttoning them one by one, his eyes intent on the firm mounds of flesh behind the fabric, then he was pushing it off her shoulders and working it down her arms. She stood as if petrified.
Her naked tits were rosy under the room light and she raised her arms as if to cover them.
He leaned over and licked one nipple gently with his tongue. His fingers moved down to the waist of the skirt and she knew there was little use to refuse. She removed the skirt.
He almost sighed when she revealed her pussy. As she undressed, she realized that everyone was doing the same and everyone was naked.
Durant stepped out of his shorts and his massive prick swung lazily. He rubbed his cock, bringing it to a partial stiffness.
He squeezed it with his hands, rubbed his balls, and strained to bring on an erection.
"Help me," he pleaded.
Melissa stared at the sagging sack which held his balls and at the partially limp roll of cockflesh. She went down on her knees, began stroking it gently.
"Suck it, please."
She felt panic. In the last few weeks she had permitted various men to fuck her, but she had never engaged in cocksucking. Now she was being asked to do so and she wasn't certain she would like it. Martin had mentioned girls that gave blowjobs and he always laughed at them as if they might be some sort of freak. She didn't want to be a freak. She didn't want to suck this man's cock. Her heart began to beat rapidly and she sensed that she was getting red in the face.
"Don't be bashful, sweetie," Durant wheezed. "My cock's as clean as any other man's."
Melissa stared intently at the length of prickflesh, attempting to focus her vision on it.
She grasped the sagging cock with her thumb and fingers and brought it close, to her mouth. "I'll try," she promised.
His prick was stiff now and the head of it thrust upward, as if reaching for her lips. She bent down, opened her mouth and held it in the offering, not yet permitting her lips to touch the round knob. She could hear Durant sputtering. He was becoming impatient.
"Jesus, woman! What's the matter?" he snapped. "What's so difficult about sucking a cock?"
She wanted to back away, to tell him she wouldn't suck his cock, but she knew she couldn't. They would tell Martin and that would be worse.
She settled her lips down around his erect cock, feeling the strange pressures of something so large in her mouth. It was like attempting to thrust a banana into her mouth all at once. She lowered her head, forcing the shaft further into her oral cavity. She sensed that Durant was glowering at her. Apparently he was a man who was accustomed to having his orders obeyed at once. Even by a whore who was supposed to suck his cock but didn't know how.
Melissa breathed deep through her nose and closed her lips tight around Durant's hard cock. She knew she would have to satisfy him or lose the one thousand dollars she was supposed to get.
She would imitate the girls in the porno flicks, she decided. She had seen them doing a cocksucking act and it had looked easy. They had bent over the man's cock, taking it in their mouths and then moved their heads up and down to give the action. Somehow, that had made the man have an orgasm and they seemed to love it. She would have to do it that way now.
She closed her lips tight against the flesh of Durant's cock, then moved her head up and down, pressing her tongue against the hot skin and realizing that there was no other place to put it. She pressed hard, pushing the flesh as if she wanted to lick it clean and she could feel Durant move as if the action was giving him a great pleasure. He was mumbling, repeating the words, "Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy."
She was encouraged to faster action; bobbing her head up and down and pressing her tongue against the swollen prick, teasing it to erection. Durant had arched back, raising his ass off the chair, pushing his groin up to meet the onslaught of her attack. He was moaning.
"That's the way, baby. Suck the shit out of it!"
She was trying to live up to his expectations.
She pretended that she was home eating a banana for lunch. His cock was a long, delicious banana and it was becoming harder as she nibbled at it. The large round head was hitting the top of her mouth and slapping the arch of her throat. She expected, at any moment, for the cream to come shooting from the end of it and she didn't know what she would do when it happened.
Durant was grasping her head.
"That's enough," he said in a hoarse whisper. He pulled his pulsating prick from her mouth and settled back on the chair. "I want to fuck you dog-fashion."
Melissa cringed. She considered dog-style fucking so animalistic that she didn't want to do it. It was ridiculous and degrading to get down on her hands and knees and have a cock thrust into her cunt from the rear. Fucking dog-fashion might not make her come, then what would she do? But her duty was to Mr. Durant, she reminded herself She had to keep Mr. Durant happy so she would receive her one thousand dollars and Martin would never be told how she had earned it. She had to permit Durant to fuck her dog-fashion.
She settled down on the floor, placing her knees on the coarse rug and waited patiently for Durant to enter her pussy. She could hear him grunting and making noises which sounded more animal than human.
She sensed him kneeling behind her, holding his cock level as he aimed it at her curd. He moved in, preparing to thrust the shaft into the waiting lips of her pussy. She could feel his body brushing her thighs as he guided his prick into her hair-fringed cunt. A hardness brushed the cheeks of her ass, then she felt the bulbous knob of his cock as he shoved it into the tender flesh of her pussy.
She told herself she would pay no attention to what he was doing. She would think of something else and if there was pain, she would force her mind to overlook it and soon it would be over.
But there was no pain; only the soft pressure of his cock thrusting in and out between her leg. She could feel his hands grasping her hips and the slap-slap of his groin against her ass as his prick pumped in and out of her cunt. It was massaging the tender nub of her clitoris and the combination of fucking and massaging was bringing alive nerves that had been quiet for a long time. She was beginning to like this kind of fucking and found herself pushing back against him.
"It's wonderful," she panted. "So wonderful, wonderful."
"You have a very nice cunt," Durant whispered from behind her. "After I fuck you like this, you'll never want it any other way again.
She butted back against him, forcing her ass against his balls. "Oh God!" she blurted. "My cunt is begging for more. Give me more!"
Durant didn't answer and she could hear him breathing heavily each time he thrust forward to push his stiff cock into her cunt. He was grunting as if his actions were taking more energy than he had anticipated.
Melissa's head was almost on the floor, her tits dragging against the rug as she lowered herself on her arms, raising the angle of her cunt, making it an easier target for his ramming cock.
"Give me more!" she pleaded. "It's so wonderful. Fuck me hard! Make me feel it!"
Durant was beginning to gasp. His amorous desires had grown stronger than his physical ability to accomplish them. He was becoming tired.
Melissa was beyond caring.
"Don't slow down," she begged. "Fuck me faster!"
Durant was unable to respond. He couldn't speak. He was pushing and pulling as rapidly as possible. His muscles were becoming tired.
Melissa shook her head back and forth, agonizing in the sheer ecstasy of what was happening to her. "More, more!" she cried. "Push your cock into me. Oohhh! Oohhh!"
She wiggled her ass, pushing back against his slapping groin, searching for more feeling.
"Oh Jesus," she moaned. "My cunt is burning up. Fuck me more, please. Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!"
Her urging had no effect. Durant was becoming fired and he was slowing down.
Melissa began rocking forward, taking the pressure off Durant, then slapping back against him. Her rocking took the place of Durant's thrusts and the pleasure began to increase. She felt her nerves respond to the added stimulation. It moved from her asshole, through her womb, back to the mouth of her cunt. She was burning with passion and begging for more action, all the while rocking forward and backward on Durant's wet prick. It felt very very good.
Then she felt it. The pain that was sheer enjoyment. Her insides erupted and the hot cum flowed down the lips of her cunt, wetting his thrusting prick. She stopped rocking, her nerves became quiet, and she felt a strong desire to sleep. To just lie down and never get up again.
Her mind was numb but not numb enough to cloud the strong voice which shrilled in her ear. It was a man's voice and it was uttering words she didn't like.
"Melissa, you little bitch! So this is how you spend your lime when I'm not around! Well, I'll be God damned! Letting every creep in the country fuck your cunt! What the hell are you doing, Melissa? Holding a fuckathon?"
She tried to get up but couldn't. A heavy body was draped over her back and she could still feel Durant's prick in her cunt. She could feel him wiggling, as if attempting to get that last inch, that last bit of action before his cock shriveled.
The voice sounded closer now and it was saying things she didn't want to hear.
"You can go to hell, you dirty little slut. Give your cunt to any fucking stud who wants to use it. I don't want any part of you!"
Durant was bellowing behind her and she suddenly realized that she was no longer coupled to him. His voice was shouting orders, calling names, demanding that something be done to shut up the intruder.
He was waving in all directions at once. "Monty! Get this idiot out of here! What the hell is he doing here?"
There was the thump of heavy feet moving rapidly across the padded floor, then scuffling bodies and obscenities as men shouted at each other. Then another voice, Martin's, ordering someone to leave him alone.
"I'm taking my wife out of here!" he shouted. "You bastards can't stop me!"
A firm hand grasped her arm and she could feel something being wrapped about her body, covering up her nakedness. Then she was being led away from the lighted room and the grotesque naked bodies that inhabited it. She was sick. Martin had discovered what she was doing, was taking her away, and he would hate her for it. She had spoiled everything.
Now he would divorce her and she would die because she loved him so much.
She felt the cool breeze brushing her cheek as they walked across the hard surface of the club parking lot, then she was in a car and it was moving along through the night. She sank back against the seat, closed her eyes and that was the last she knew of Friday evening.