DISCREETOFFICESERVICES Chapters 1 - 5 free porn video

(((I'm just trying to combine chapters so my 'Posted' list isn't so long.)))
Chapter 1

My phone rang as I stepped from the train onto the platform. My commute from the suburbs to the city had ended in its predictable way. The call from Mom to catch up on my life since yesterday. Because I was always up and away from the house before mom and dad were awake, the morning phone call took the place of the conversations we used to have over breakfast before school.

The usual pleasantries followed. (When was I going to look for a job better than being an office temp? A job that offered benefits and security...) She'd just begun to express wishes that I find a guy (I'm not getting any younger... Grandk**s would be nice to have around while I'm still young enough to enjoy them...), at that point, pleading being in a hurry, I hung up and checked my messages to make certain I knew the correct time of my first appointment.

I had plenty of time so, stopping for coffee, I walked the short distance to the apartment I kept in the city that my parents knew nothing about. I'd given serious thought to moving out of my parent's house and to the city. I was nineteen and almost two years out of high school. At the point of my life where most girls my age were in college, married, working and living in their own place or all of the above. Money was no longer an issue, but...

But, the city was less than an hours ride by train from our suburb. If my mom knew I had an apartment she would be dropping by at all hours of the day and any day of the week. I'd never be able to keep my secret a secret. Instead, I lived at home in the bedroom which had been mine since I'd graduated from a cradle to my own bed. Mom and I still rode bikes together. Shopped together. Gardened, talked and watched sappy, weepy-eye Lifetime/Hallmark movies together. To keep Mom happy I even went out on dates occasionally.

Dad? Oh, he huffed and puffed and bellowed like an elephant wondering, 'When are you going to leave the damned nest so your mom and me can have some damned peace and quiet around here!' Then, on Saturday mornings after falling asleep on the couch during a late night binge of watching the afore-mentioned weepy-eye movies, I'd find a blanket covering me and Dad making a huge breakfast while bellowing, 'Eat you idiot and put some meat on those skinny bones so you have the energy to find your own damned place and leave me in peace!' Yeah, I've had Daddy figured out and wrapped around my little finger since I took my first steps.

Thinking of steps, I looked at my watch and increased the pace of mine. Two blocks from the train stop I pushed open the doors of the brownstone building my apartment was in. Checking my mailbox first (empty as usual) I ran the stairs for the cardio. On the third floor landing I met Danny headed down. A junior in college, Danny lived in the apartment below mine. Jeans, t-shirt and looking delicious as always in a nerdy, rumpled way. I knew he had a little crush on me and had wanted to ask me out since the day we'd met. School work, part-time jobs, lack of money and a bad case of shyness kept him from asking.

Exchanging greetings, I was several steps past when I heard him stumble and almost fall with the thud of a bookbag hitting the steps echoing in the stairwell. Grinning, I tried very hard not to laugh. I just knew he'd turned his head to check out my ass and had tripped. I stopped on the landing above and watched as he fumbled for his dropped bag.

"You ok, Danny?"

"Ahh, yeah. Just clumsy, I guess. You know," Danny changed the subject by pointing to my coffee. "It'd be cheaper to brew coffee instead of going out to buy one every morning."

I'd made up the story of going out for coffee when Danny had met me coming in as he was going out once too often. "I know. I guess I just like the taste."

"Hey, Olivia," Danny said as I was turning to go the remaining steps to my floor. "Thanks. I know I haven't mentioned this but, having someone as quiet as you above me, I mean, living in the apartment above mine, it's really great. I saw the hardwood floors when I moved in and I was afraid that I'd be hearing the clump, clump, clump of footsteps at all hours. How someone as big as you can move so quietly, well, when I'm trying to study it really means a lot."

Since the reason I was away and not in the apartment at night would be too hard to explain I took the compliment with one reservation to watch him squirm. Looking down between my boobs I asked dryly, "Someone as big as I am?"

"I meant as tall as you are. You're no where near fat! You have an incredible... I mean, your body is totally... Ahh..."

The laughter I'd kept in earlier bubbled out and I took pity on the shy nerd. "It's fine, Danny, and thanks for the stammered out almost compliment. I gotta run to get to work on time but score an A on a test for me today."

I had a corner apartment on the top floor. No clumping footsteps above me to have to put up with. Closing the door behind me I tossed my bag and keys on the table beside the door and breathed in the sweet smell of privacy. This was my first apartment and although I didn't spend much time here, it was still mine. All mine!

I could decorate it the way I liked. Paint the walls the colors I liked. Buy furniture that I liked. I could even run naked through all the rooms. Cook in the nude. Throw caution to the wind and even fry bacon in the nude! Tried that once. Hot bacon grease spattering out of the skillet had me grabbing for an apron very quickly. So, ok, probably wouldn't fry bacon in the nude again but the important point was I could if I wanted to.

Going to the bedroom, I stripped and tossed all my clothes onto the bed before opening the doors to my closets. The outfits I wore to and from home was for dad and mom's benefit. The clothes I kept here in my apartment were my real work clothes. Shopping in stores I'd never be able to afford on my pay as an office temp had filled my closets with beautiful clothes. Knowing who I was meeting, I decided on a backless, black dress and held it to my front. I wouldn't need my bra so I took it off and tossed it on the bed.

Shaking my head, imagining what Dad would say if he saw me headed out the door for a date in a dress this short and without a bra, I laid the dress out on the bed. Hosiery, garter belt and panties, also black, joined the dress.

Stooping, I surveyed the choices I had in heels and picked my ash colored Christian Louboutin's. Unlike many of my friends who exceeded 5'8", I liked being tall. Unless I'd had another growth spurt I was still just under six foot tall in my bare feet. The four inch heels of my Louboutin's would elevate me to 6'4" and the client I was seeing this morning liked tall women.

With wardrobe picked out that left the proper handbag to complete the assembly. Transferring what I'd need from the department store handbag I'd brought from home to my ash colored Celine purse I kept here took only a minute. From the top drawer of my vertical chest I selected four condoms (Ribbed for her pleasure) and tossed them in the purse. Earrings and rings I was wearing were removed and laid on my dress from home where I couldn't help but remember them.

My watch was the only indulgence I allowed myself to wear home. It was exhausting enough to remember to remove and leave behind my 'city' jewelry. Luckily, my parents wouldn't know a four thousand dollar Cartier Rose Gold wristwatch from a ten dollar watch from Wal-Mart. Checking the time before removing it I headed into my bathroom to shower.

My actions this Monday morning would probably confuse almost everyone. But, there was a perfectly logical explanation that I hoped I'd never have tell my parents. You see, a month after graduating high school, I actually was working for an office temp agency. Living at home to save money while trying to decide ja oder nein (three years of high school German) on the whole college question. I'd finished working for the day at the job I'd been sent to and was in front of the building trying to flag down a taxi when a lady had approached, handed me a card and offered me a job if I was interested.

The Not Too Distant Past...

DISCREETOFFICESERVICES.COM... The address on the card she'd handed me was in the same building where I'd just worked but on a different floor. Inviting me upstairs to her office, she'd offered coffee and...

"Discreet? Sounds like you work for the CIA or something," I joked, setting my bag down beside my chair and accepting the coffee mug Marla offered me.

"Or something," Marla replied with a small smile, sitting in the high backed, reclining leather chair behind her desk. Holding her coffee mug in both hands she leaned back in her chair. "I've noticed you working in the building this past week. You're a very pretty young lady. Head cheerleader and Prom Queen in high school, I bet."

"Thanks for the compliments." I felt the heat of a blush on my cheeks. I'd never felt comfortable accepting compliments for things I'd been born with. After all, how much credit can you take for being the recipient of a lucky arrangement of bits and pieces of genetic code? "But you lost your bet. Cheerleader, yes, but not the head cheerleader and I got enough votes to be a member of the Queen's Court but not the Prom Queen."

"If I lost, then you won. I've got a job offer for you. You see, ten years ago I was sitting in a chair much like the one you are sitting in now and looking across a desk very much like this one. I was being offered the same opportunity I'm offering to you. Different office, different city, of course, but the offer was the same."

"And in just ten years you worked your way up to being the boss? Or CEO, or whatever your job title is? You must have been very hard working."

"I was. You could say I worked my ass off," Marla laughed. "Also, the job I was offered, and am now offering to you, has sort of an expiration date. You either move up to management in a few years or you leave the field entirely. Eight months ago I chose to move here, open my own agency and move up to management."

"Well, you must be doing something right. I mean, your office décor cost thousands! I measured an office to help order furniture for a new Vice-President of a company I temped at. I looked at the catalog they were ordering furniture from so I know something about how much furniture like this costs." I reached out to run my hand over the smooth surface of her desk. "Solid walnut. Probably cost more than I'll make in a year on my salary."

"Very perceptive. So, in a nutshell, let me make my pitch to you. Out there," Marla began with a graceful, encompassing wave of her hand. "Out there in the city, there are hundreds, thousands, of successful men and women. They became successful because of long hours of hard work. Long hours of hard work which left them exhausted and with few opportunities to enjoy the fruits of their hard work.

"They had little time or energy to socialize, to date, to meet new people, to fall in love. Some of them remained single. Some settled for 'good enough'," Marla said with air quotes. "Most of my target demographic are in their late thirties and early forties. All of them well off financially and tired of being single. Tired of having settled for 'good enough'."

Marla got up and walked to the window behind her desk. Looking out, she said, "They're still out there. Still looking for the excitement that was denied to them when they were on their way up the corporate ladder and not so well off financially. But now, they're older and richer. Unfortunately for them and fortunately for me and perhaps you, a leopard doesn't change its spots so easily. They are still stuck on that corporate treadmill. Long hours of hard work is all they've ever known for so long that getting off that treadmill seems impossible for them."

Marla shrugged her shoulders to express bewilderment at the idea that people would voluntarily work so hard. Leaving the window, Marla came from behind her desk and sat in the chair next to mine. Crossing her legs, Marla continued, "But... Isn't there always a 'but'? But now they have corner offices and private secretaries. Larger bank balances. Nice stock portfolios. Plush houses or mansions in gated communities. Expensive cars. And the damned fools are still working over eighty hours a week! Now that they have everything they once thought they wanted, the idiots still can't stop from working themselves into an early grave.

"But... There's that but again. But humans want excitement, crave intimacy. Since my clients seem incapable of relaxing and taking the time to go out and find that intimacy, I provide them with intimacy. Any type of intimacy they desire, when and where they want. Do you understand?"

It took me several seconds but the light bulb finally lit up over my head. "You're a Madame?!"

Marla shrugged again and held her hands up and out, "What's in a name? Madame, CEO, company president. Call girl, escort, consort, mistress, hooker, whore... All the same thing. A rose by any other name... The only thing which changes is the degree of respectability the public attaches to the name."

Marla sat back in her chair and asked me, "What would you say if I told you that all women become whores at times?"

"I'd say that you're wrong," I replied forcefully. "My mom would never become a whore."

"Really? Give me your definition of a whore?"

"A woman who has sex for money."

"So you agree that if a woman has sex for compensation she's a whore. But money isn't the only form of compensation there is. So now expand that definition. My definition of a whore would be... A woman who has sex for any reason other than her own enjoyment. Are you a virgin, Olivia?"

"Ahh, no..."

"Do you think that you've whored yourself?"

"NO!"

"Really?" Marla said with a tone of satisfaction in her voice. As if she'd already won our argument. "Ever been with a guy out on a date and he's all over you? He's whining about how horny he is. Pawing at your boobs. Grabbing between your legs? Trying to undo your jeans? Your bra? You don't feel like having sex but to keep the guy happy you've gotten naked and spread your legs?"

Marla smiled as if she knew she'd already won our argument. "Perhaps you gave the guy a hand job? A blowjob? Got in the back seat and spread your legs? Just to satisfy him, stop his whining? Wouldn't that qualify as having sex not for your enjoyment but for the compensation of stopping his incessant whining? Did you ever feel you were obligated to have sex because he was paying for the date? Haven't you already whored yourself?"

Marla stopped talking and waited for my reply. Remembering some of my dates in high school and what had happened on them, I thought about her definition of a whore as a woman who has sex for any reason other than her own enjoyment. I thought about it and... Marla took my continued silence as a yes.

"Olivia, I don't know you very well but I'd make another bet that our experiences while growing up were pretty much the same. Middle class values. Pretty and popular in school. I was the Prom Queen by-the-way. We've all whored for something," Marla stated. She didn't say it in a gloating voice. Her tone was of someone just stating a fact.

"I had sex in high school and college. A lot of sex. I was tired of his begging so I'd have sex with him just to shut the asshole up. I used sex to get the popular guy in school to date me. I was afraid of not having a date to the next dance so I'd do what it takes in the backseat of a car to keep a boyfriend. There was so many reasons other than because I wanted to have sex.

"Then while I was in college a woman approached and made me an offer. The same offer I'm giving to you. I was pretty much broke and the money seemed too good to pass up. After all, I wasn't a virgin. To get paid well for what I was giving away for free almost every date night..."

Marla didn't say anything else, she just reached over and picked up a leather folder off her desk. "What I do is simplify things. I discard all the reasons a woman will have sex except for one. Money." Taking a paper from the folder she wrote on it before handing it to me. The only thing on the paper was a number. "That is how much a woman earns every time she sees a client I set her up with. If my girl agrees to see a client she's only obligated to spend two hours doing whatever the client wants. The number is doubled if the client wants to include someone else. Tripled for the third person, etc., etc."

I started doing the math. Just this number was more than I made in a week temping. For two hours! I was speechless while Marla continued.

"The number is also doubled for every hour or part of an hour past two hours of one of my girl's time he wants. So, let's say my client needs a date, arm candy, for a corporate party. The party lasts three hours and at the end he, or she, has a friend who wants to party on into the night for another two hours."

I tried to do the math. I doubled the number for the third hour and added it to the first number then added another doubled number for the third person joining the fun. That still left the fourth and fifth hours to double and add...

"Would you like to use my calculator," Marla asked with a laugh.

"Here, I'll make it simple," she continued and pulling the paper from my hand, she wrote a much larger number down and handed the paper back to me. "That is how much my girl will make for five hours of her time."

Holy Shit!!! "That much," I blurted out.

"Honey, I'm not pimping out girls to stand on street corners hoping a guy gives them twenty dollars for a blow job," Marla laughed. "I pick my clients and girls carefully. My clients want high-end girls and are able to pay top dollar."

I was speechless! A five hour party with two guys would go a long way to paying for a semester at any state college. I'm pretty sure that there are times when each of us wonders what we'd do for a large sum of money. I took another look at the number Marla had written down. I was tempted to ask for that calculator so I could calculate the number of days I'd have to work at the temp agency to get that same amount of money.
I sighed and handed the sheet of paper back to Marla. I shook my head. "I live at home. Even if I were tempted I could never 'date'," This time I used air quotes. "Going out on dates every night and still working to explain how I was making money? I'd be exhausted in a week."

"Who said anything about working for me only at night," Marla asked. She got up again and opened the blinds of a window. The city skyline was prominent. "Out there today I had six girls working. I still had to turn down clients. I'd have to turn down clients if I had twelve girls working every day. Some of my girls are like you. They live in the suburbs and when they are able, they come to the city and work one or two clients, sometimes even three clients a day if I can work the scheduling right.

"Successful men and women who are too busy to take the entire day off. To tired after work for a date. But maybe they can free up an hour during the day. So I get a request for a girl at such-n-such time at either a hotel room or maybe just their office. If a girl is available and can make it to the location in time, I send her.

"Some of my girls are proper, suburban married mothers who have kept their figure. Women you'd never suspect to be turning tricks while their husbands are at work and their k**s are in school or at their grandparents for the day. Women who are bored with their ho-hum suburban lives. So she tells everyone she's going to the city to shop and maybe see a movie. She'll let me know the hours she'll be available in advance and I'll have a client lined up for her. Sometimes two clients if she has the time. Before she reaches home the money is deposited in a private account her husband knows nothing about. Many times, I'll never even see her that day."

Marla went quiet and walked behind her desk to sit. Lighting a cigarette she just watched me as I thought over all she'd said. I felt as if an entirely new world was opening up to me. I wasn't a virgin. I was even on the pill already because on some of the dates I went on to satisfy my mom, I also satisfied myself.

"So I could continue to come into the city as if I was still working at the temp agency," I asked curiously. "What if a girl has to be on a train at a certain time? Would you pressure her to stay for another client?"

"Never. You are only obligated to stay two hours each time you agree to see a client. All of my clients know this and if, at the end of two hours, you need to leave, that's it. It's over.

"I've worked for a Madame who pressured her girls to do, 'just one more'. Pretty soon she had no girls working for her. I don't intend to make that mistake."

"Your girls do anything the client wants? There are things, a lot of things really, that I've never done before."

"Yes. If you agree to meet a client you are obligated to do anything he, or she, wants to do for at least two hours. On that point there is flexibility on only two conditions. Any act that could result in an arrest. So public sex is out! Any act that could result in bodily harm. So hardcore BDSM is out. Be kind'a hard for one of my suburban housewives to explain welts on her ass to her husband.

"My clients know these conditions. Clients, especially those who make appointments during the day for when they might have a break in their schedule, usually just want straight sex for some fun and stress reduction. But if I get a message that one of my girls refused any reasonable request, she doesn't get paid."

"Soo, I could do just one client a day and you wouldn't try pressuring me to do more," I asked. "Do your girls, umm, find work every day?"

"Olivia, you have seen yourself in a mirror haven't you? Tall, blonde, beautiful... Nice tits... 34D?"

I nodded, "But I think I'm more in between cup sizes. With some bras I'm more comfortable in Double D cups."

"Very nice tits. Olivia, I can guarantee that within a week you'll have every day booked with at least two regular clients if you want. Ten clients a week minimum."

I did the math again. That would be close to... SHIT!

"Doing the math, Olivia?" I nodded and Marla continued, "Don't forget to add in the tips. Your clients will be wealthy and though you may never, ever, ask for money nor discuss money with them, they often will show their appreciation to my girls for good service in the way of tips that average between one to three hundred dollars. Often more. Tips are kept by the girls. I don't get a cut of tips."

I had my mouth open to ask the obvious question when Marla anticipated me and answered before I could ask.

"Think about it before you ask why I don't take a cut of the tips. Knowing they get to keep 100% of tips makes my girls try very hard to satisfy my clients. Satisfied clients keep coming back for more. I make more money from the repeat business of well satisfied clients than I would from any cut from the tips. Another business lesson I learned from a previous employer."

Damn. Even at the low end of tips, with just ten clients a week, two a day, that would be an extra thousand dollars. That could boost the total to more money in a week than I'd earn in several months temping!

"Tax free?"

"Hell, no! The IRS is a real, honest-to-God bitch! Tips, you can declare as much as you want or none. Your salary from me, yes. It's all taxable. No way do I want to cross the IRS. I file W-2 Forms just like any other business. As far as the IRS is concerned I just run another temp agency that also handles booking models for photo shoots. Pay stubs and info for filing taxes and contact info the IRS will have on you are kept here in the office. I never mail them out where husbands and others might see them. It's your responsibility to come get them if you want them."

I was silent for a long time as amounts kept going round-and-round my brain. Even with days off for holidays and that-time-of-the-month in six months to a year... Lots and lots of numbers followed by shit loads of zeros began running through my mind. I could go to any college in the fucking country!

Marla finally broke me out of my daze and led me to the door. Opening the door, she asked me to think about her offer. "No pressure, Olivia. If you have any questions you can return here. I never talk business over the phone. If you decide you'd like to try working for me, come on back and I'll tell you the rules I have and then send you out to meet your first client."

Hailing a taxi, I phoned Mom to tell her I'd missed my regular train and would be a little late. At the dinner table, I tried hard to act as if this had just been a normal day where nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Pleading a stressful day, I brushed my teeth and put on one of the many Hello Kitty t-shirts I had and wore to sleep in before going to bed early. Lying awake in the dark while thinking about what I could do with lots and lots of money...

Chapter 2

The Present...

So... I guess by now you've figured out I'm a whore. I suppose most people would classify me as a call girl. Sometimes an escort... But, I don't lie to myself. I was halfway to my twentieth birthday and for the last five months I've been a whore.

Stepping from the shower, I dried off and began putting on my makeup. Foundation, bronzer, highlighter, eye shadow, mascara, lipstick...

With each application I began slipping into a new persona. By the time I was through I believe my own mother would have had to look twice to recognize me as her daughter. Scented powder on some body parts and small dabs of lotion applied to others dried and moisturized where needed. Two spritzes of my favorite perfume into the air and a quick walk through the fine, sweet smelling fog completed my transformation.

Panties, hose and garter belt, watch and pearl necklace with matching earrings followed. I forgot the open back of my dress and was about to put on a bra before I remembered and left the bra off. Shimmying my butt in front of the mirror as I got my dress to fit just-so and then brushing my hair, I decided I looked good enough to eat. If I was lucky my client might do just that.

I arrived early at the building for my appointment with the Hon. Timothy Watson, Esq. He was a lawyer specializing in foreign banking practices or something. I wasn't sure. I was sure the guy was loaded with money though. In his mid-forties Tim was one of my regulars. Every other Monday morning like clockwork he had two hours of my time from 10am until noon if he could arrange his tight schedule for that long.

Not only did he pay Marla but he also payed his law firm for the billable time Ms. Viv Urlach spent in his office so his secretary wouldn't get suspicious and report to his wife (The wife who'd brought a boatload of money into the marriage.) that he was getting a happy during the time he was supposedly giving said Ms. Viv Urlach (Me, if you hadn't figured that out.) financial and legal help. I used my persona as a rich, young German heiress, Deutsche Erbin, who needed help for most of my dealings with clients who wished to meet me at their office.

The usual stall in the usual ladies room afforded me the privacy to prepare for my appointment. Putting one foot on the toilet I inserted the wand as deeply as I could to squeeze out a generous amount of lubricating gel. My body heat and gravity would do the rest. Arriving on time, Janet, Tim's secretary, explained that a meeting was running longer than scheduled so I occupied my time leafing through the magazines in the reception area. I was already on the clock. Reading magazines or fucking, I was getting paid.

When Tim finally came to escort me to his office he was very apologetic for being late. "I could have mailed you these papers to be signed, Ms. Urlach but they need to be notarized, too."

"Alles ist in Ordnung. Ich hatte keine Pläne." (Who knew that three years of high school German would pay off?) Switching to broken English, "All is ok. I sign, ask questions I have, then go."

"Ask anything you wish, Ms. Urlach. To make up for my tardiness this session won't be billed to your account. Janet, please make a note of that, please."

In Tim's office I signed three official looking papers and after Janet notarized them, Tim looked at his watch, "Janet, it's so close to noon, why don't you go on to lunch. I can show Ms. Urlach out when we're done."

As soon as Janet was gone and the office door was locked, Tim was all over me. Pulling me to him for a kiss. One hand sliding up the back of my thigh to grab my ass. His other hand slipping through the deep V-cut of my dress to squeeze a tit. Tim apologized again for me having to wait, "But when the founder of the firm wants a meeting, you can't say no."

I kissed Tim while his hands continued to squeeze my ass cheeks and played with my tits. Tim began pulling my dress up and I broke our kiss to raise my arms over my head to let him take it off me. He tossed the dress onto a chair and I put my arms back around Tim's neck while his hands settled on my breasts again. I love having my boobs massaged and the Mmm from deep in my throat as I kissed Tim again wasn't entirely feigned.

Sliding Tim's jacket off, I tossed it on top of my dress. Dropping to my knees I began undoing his belt and trousers. Letting his pants drop to his ankles, I pulled his underwear down enough to free his cock. I looked up and saw Tim watching me as I ran the tip of my tongue up and down his length, stopping to circle the sensitive skin at the tip. Tim sighed and closed his eyes as I began bobbing my head to take more and more of his average sized cock in my mouth. It was easy after so much practice to press my lips into his bush to take his entire cock into my mouth.

Keeping his cock tip in the back of my throat I looked up to watch Tim watching me. Tonguing the underside of his cock I began letting him slide from my mouth. Wet with saliva, his cock slid easily through my fist as I gave him a hand job while sucking and licking on the tip of his cock. Alternating giving his cock a hand job and taking him to the back of my throat, I anticipated Tim would want to finish by bending me over his desk for a stand up doggy fuck.

Instead, Tim reached down to hold my head still while starting to mouth fuck me. It never took Tim long to come the first time during a session and this time was no different. Only a couple of minutes passed as saliva dripped from my lips to wet my tits before he moaned and jet after jet of hot, salty cum hit the back of my throat as Tim left a huge load in my mouth.


Sucking on Tim's cock tip while milking his cock with my hand for the last of his cum, I swallowed and pushed forward to gobble all of his still hard cock for one last, long suck. Finally letting Tim slip from my mouth I ran my finger over his now red cock. I smiled up at Tim and reminded him to wash my lipstick off his dick before he went home.

As if a switch had been thrown, a look of sadness came over Tim's face and he sighed, "It wouldn't matter, Viv. Hell, my wife hasn't paid attention to my cock in years." That came as no surprise to me after the load I'd just swallowed. No guy who's getting pussy regularly has that much cum in their balls.

Tim helped me up and then pulled up his trousers and underwear. Tucking his shirt in and fastening his trousers and belt he sighed again and shrugged his jacket back on. When he handed me my dress I looked at my watch... I'd been in his office barely 15 minutes... When he shook his head after I asked if he was sure I couldn't do more, I pulled hand wipes from my purse and wiped the spit and cum off my chest and tits. Wiping my face clean I again asked if he didn't want to do more. I reminded him he still had over an hour of my time paid for.

"Not sexually, no," He replied. Shrugging, I wiggled into my tight dress. Grasping my upper arms, Tim met my eyes, "Viv, for the last few months you've been the only good thing in my life. My wife hates me. I've got two k**s in college who only talk to me when they want more money... And, Viv, I did something stupid. Really stupid."

Tim collapsed on the office couch we'd fucked on many times. I sat next to him and put my hand on his knee. "Hey, things can't be so bad, Timmy."

Tim leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "I love hearing you call me Timmy. I haven't been called that since high school. Back when my whole life was before me. All the plans I had...

"I really screwed up, Viv. I stole a lot of money from a client. A lot! Figured I'd go live my life where I could be happy. Thought I'd be long gone before they were on to me. Didn't work out, though. That meeting that made me late? They're on to me. They didn't say anything specific but I know they know. It's over. It's all over. I got nothing left but prison time looking at me... And that's if I'm lucky."

"It can't be that bad, Tim. Can't you return the money?"

"No. I'll still be fired. I'd never find another job practicing law even if the firm didn't press charges to avoid a scandel. Besides, the client I stole from would find out. He's not a nice man, Viv. He's going to kill me," Tim said in resignation. "I'm dead, Viv. I just haven't been buried yet."

"Nothing I can do? Maybe if you start running now?"

"It's too late. Just you offering to help is why you've been the only thing good in my life. Why I waited to see you one more time. And, yes, there is something you can do for me," Tim suddenly had new resolve in his voice. Rising from the couch he retrieved the fake papers Janet had affixed her notary stamp to and put them into my equally fake file. He pulled a sealed envelope from the top drawer of his desk and placed it in the file also before handing me the folder. "Take your file but don't throw it away until you've had a chance to look at it. Mail that envelope for me when you have the chance.

"And... Fuck it! Won't do me any good," Tim walked over and pulled a painting away from the wall on hinges to uncover a wall safe. Entering the combination, he opened it and began taking bundles of cash out. I stood up as he walked over and pushed bundles of cash into my arms until I couldn't hold any more. "Consider this your severance pay. I'll no longer need you every other Monday."

I looked at all the bundles and saw nothing but hundred dollar bills at the top of each bundle. "Tim! If this is the money you stole..." I began, trying to give the money back but only succeeded in dropping bundles onto the carpet as he pressed more into my arms.

"No, Viv," Tim interrupted me. "This is a Rainy Day Fund I've been keeping secret from all my fucked up family. I sure as hell don't want them to have it so I'm giving it to you." Tim picked up my purse. It wasn't large enough to hold many bundles.

"Tim, you aren't planning on doing something stupid, are you?"

"No. I'm planning on doing the only thing I can do." Tim handed me my purse now bulging with cash. Retrieving his briefcase from behind his desk, the money that I was holding and the money still in the safe went into the briefcase along with my file and the letter. Handing me his briefcase as he unlocked his office door, Tim sounded frantic, "Don't forget to mail the letter and to keep your file safe. Keep your file safe! Most of all, hold on to your dreams. Don't kill them like I killed mine."

Tim pushed me from his office and I heard the door latch lock. Bewildered and not knowing what else to do, I walked to the elevators and took the first to arrive down.

If I'd used Tim's private bathroom to freshen up before being shoved out of his office things might have been very different. I would have been long gone before... Instead, I pressed the second floor button and got off there. Finding the ladies room, I used the toilet and wiped the excess fake lubricant from between my pussy lips. Exiting the stall, I took some time to refresh my makeup and lipstick before leaving to call another elevator.

The deed was over and done with by the time I stepped out onto the sidewalk. All that was left were the screams and the expressions of horror.

"I can't believe it..."

"He just came crashing through..."

"Just pure luck he didn't fall on someone..."

"Maybe he was pushed?"

"Nah, he couldn't have been pushed. Look at the distance he landed from the building. He must have been running when he dove through the window," a logical man calculated.

Looking up, I saw the broken window. I counted the floors. I knew whose office faced the street at that floor. I didn't need to see the body that the crowd hid from me to know it was Tim. I should have stayed. Told the police everything. That's what Olivia would have done. But, Viv was afraid of all the questions and the truths that would be revealed. Viv turned from the crowd and walked away. Finding a place to sit, I tried very hard not to cry and ruin my makeup.

Three hours later I was kneeling in a hotel room with my wrists and ankles shackled while trying to remember to say, Yes, Master...

Chapter 3


My session with Master was over. Having sex while handcuffed wasn't new to me, only uncomfortable and mildly painful. My asshole hurt but that would pass. Master was my only regular client who wanted anal sex regularly.

I'd only agreed to take Master on as a once-a-month regular after I'd made sure he understood no lasting marks or bruises would be tolerated. The handcuffs he'd wanted to use our first time had been quickly nixed by me. Bruises that circled my wrists would be impossible to hide let alone explain to my Mom and Dad at the dinner table. After Marla told me Master would want anal sex, she'd scheduled him for later in the day so I'd have time to return to my apartment and put a wand up my ass for two cleansing enemas before going to meet him. That had been Marla's idea.

I'd agreed to the ankle shackles because I could cover any marks with socks. Master agreed to only tying my wrists with the soft belt from the hotel's bathrobe that first time. After that he'd brought wider wrist restraints that didn't bind my wrists so tightly and wouldn't leave bruises. The first couple of sessions had been just me kneeling on the floor answering Yes, Master and No, Master to his questions before he fucked my ass.

The 'whip' he'd introduced into our sessions after that... That required some thought. But, hell... The plastic strands of the whip were barely thicker than the ones my high school cheerleading pom-poms were made of. That didn't stop them from hurting like a motherfucker when he wrapped the strands around my sides to hit my tits. My cries of pain as I tried to move out of the way of the next strike weren't faked at all! But, except for the pain and the red marks the whip left... Fuck, for the amount he was giving me in tips I could take having my tits whipped once a month.

Master had left shortly after we'd fucked. Since the room was paid for Master didn't mind if I stayed to shower, order room service and hit the mini-bar. Ass and body washed with an endless stream of hot water, I felt much better as I got dressed. I was still rubbing to lessen the marks on my wrists as I exited the hotel. My wrists were reddened but I knew there wouldn't be any bruising. Just in case, I'd wear a long sleeved shirt at the dinner table tonight.

After a few previous experiences I'd had while working for Marla I had the feeling Master was pretty new to the BDSM lifestyle. Probably had had fantasies while growing up, reading stories and watching porn movies. Now he was finally successful enough to have the money to satisfy his itch. I could help scratch a lot of itches and, well, thinking about the tip Master would slip into my corset after each session helped me suffer through the pain.

Rubbing my wrists again in the taxi taking me to my apartment, I decided BDSM wasn't so bad as long as Master agreed to wider, leather manacles. Turning my cell phone on I checked and found one text from Marla. (((Do U Know? 8am?))) I texted back (((Know what? 8am ok)))

One of the first rules Marla had explained to me was to never talk business over the phone. You could never be sure who was listening. Not sure why I denied knowing about Tim. Tim seemed like a nice guy and he was an easy fuck but I wanted nothing to do with what happened or the police that would inevitably be involved. I decided to deny knowing anything when I arrived at Marla's office in the morning.

Back at my apartment I had time for a cup of tea. My tits still stung when I massaged them but the red marks the whip left were fading. I had an hour before I needed to dress to catch the train for home. I didn't want to think about Tim or the file or even the money. I'd barely had time to come back to my apartment to change and get ready for my time with Master. The briefcase and everything inside it was in my bedroom closet where I was trying my best to forget about it.

Tim and his problems were the last things I wanted to think about! Instead, I began wondering if it was time to quit. I was over halfway to twenty. In a few days I will have been a whore for half-a-year. I had my health (Not a single STD), looks and money. Most importantly, my parents didn't have a clue what I'd been doing to earn my money.

Money... I was way ahead of even my wildest dreams when it came to money. Like Marla had joked, I'd worked my ass off! With what Tim had given me I had more than enough for a four year ride at any university I choose. Of course, I'd pledge a sorority, I thought smiling. Parties and frat guys... Maybe find the love of my life. Only trouble was, I had no idea what I wanted to study or to do as a career after college. I'd never given much thought to a career. Since accepting Marla's offer my life had been all about sex and money...

The Not Too Distant Past...

I'd thought about Marla's offer for almost two weeks before returning to her office. After she assured me that she remembered who I was, I asked if the offer was still open.

"It certainly is, Olivia."

"And, ah, I'd be able to find work every day?"

Marla laughed and answered, "For someone with your looks and body? I can find you work seven days a week if that's what you want. Is it?"

"No! I mean, I wouldn't be able to explain my trips into the city on the weekends."

"Well, as I said before, with just a little luck as far as scheduling goes, I'm certain you can have two jobs a day, even three, very soon if you want that much money.

"But, let me spell out the rules again so there's no misunderstandings between us. First rule... You never, ever!, mention money to any of my clients. I handle all of that. Second rule... You stay for the full two hours if the client wishes. Many of the daytime clients won't have two hours to spare. If they do, you stay. If they ask, it's entirely up to you if you want to stay longer than two hours. It's more money if you stay but it's your decision. Third rule... You do whatever the client wishes as long as there is no threat of arrest or bodily harm. No public sex where you can get arrested and if a guy gets too physical and you feel unsafe, do whatever it takes to get away. We can discuss it later when you are safe! The important thing is to get somewhere you feel safe and talk later. All of my clients know these rules, too."

"Does that happen often? You know, a guy gets rough," I asked hesitantly. I didn't want to get beaten up.

"Never so far for the girls who work days and very rarely for ladies who have a weekend or a night they'd like a job. I try to weed out the wacko's and my clients during the day just want sex. To relieve stress or build their self-esteem or just to put a smile on their face... Who knows?

"My Fourth rule is for your protection, also. Never give a client your real name or phone number. I handle all the scheduling here. No reason for them to call you. Absolutely no reason for some idiot who's decided he can't live without you to phone 24/7 or suddenly show up at your house. I doubt your parents would understand. Fifth Rule... NEVER talk about clients or business over the phone! You never know who might be listening."

Within the hour we'd decided on the name I'd use with clients and, after I'd nervously said yes, Marla called someone and I had my first appointment with a client scheduled for that same afternoon.

Marla made me memorize the client's name and address and then added, "If you chicken out, which has happened before, no hard feelings, just never come to me again. You're very intelligent and you have the face and figure to make a lot of money." Marla looked at her watch and concluded, "You have three hours and fifteen minutes to decide if you have the courage to follow through with what it takes to get that money!"

I was unsure I had the courage. Very, very unsure. But, three hours and fifteen minutes later I was in a stranger's office as he expressed his delight, "Damn, Marla said she was sending someone who was perfect. Now I believe her. You are everything I hoped for, Viv. I don't have much time. I wasn't expecting Marla's call back saying she'd found a girl. Get undressed. Get undressed," he commanded me as he took off his coat and tie.

When he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it onto a chair, I unbuttoned my blouse and tossed it. When his pants hit the floor so, too, did my skirt. Boxers and panties dropped at the same time. I still had my bra on but he reached around behind me to unhook it. In less than a minute we were both naked and he had my boobs in his hands, sucking on my nipples and telling me how goddamned perfect they were.

Leading me to a short couch against a wall, he laid me down and wasted no time covering me. I was too nervous to be excited and I was dry. He took me hard and dry and continued to take me hard and dry. My cries of pain and pleas to slow down seemed to only excite him to thrust harder. His eager thrusts pulled and stretched my cunt walls painfully. My vagina didn't moisten until he was already deep inside me.

He was fucking me hard while telling me how tight my pussy was. Hard enough to push my head to the edge of his couch and then over. I had my head hanging over the cushion's edge looking at the world upside down while he fucked me. It seemed as if my entire world had been turned upside down. It didn't seem possible that I was lying here letting a complete stranger fuck my pussy and squeeze my tits until they hurt.

The part of me who saw the world right side up wanted to push him off me and leave. The part of me who saw the world upside down began to hump my pussy upwards to meet his thrusts. It seemed a long time before he stiffened, groaned and pushed deep with short, hard jabs to come inside me. But during that time I know which part of me began begging to be fucked harder...

Raising my head I looked between my boobs to watch as he continued to slowly slide his cock between my legs after leaving his load inside me. He continued to maul my tits with his hands, pinching and sucking hard on my nipples while I laid there. It didn't seem possible that in so short a time I'd gone from being a 'good girl' to becoming a whore.

If there was any doubt in my mind about what I was, my client had none. He'd fucked me like a whore and he now treated me like a whore. Pulling his cock out, he picked up my panties and used them to clean off his cock and wipe up the cum that had leaked from my slit onto his leather cushion... Tossing me my cum wet panties he told me to put them on quickly.

"I don't want you leaking any more cum on my couch and carpet," he said brusquely. As soon as I'd done what I'd been told he came to stand beside the couch where I'd raised up to sit on the edge. There was no uncertainty of what he wanted. Remembering I was to do anything a client wanted, I opened my mouth to take him. Cleaning his still semi-hard cock of our sex was a first for me. The taste wasn't what I'd expected. Not as bad as I'd feared when I'd refused to do the same with boyfriends from my past.

Putting my bra on I found that my boobs were swollen from being played with so roughly. They didn't fit comfortably in my bra cups. We got dressed as quickly as we'd undressed and then he pulled out his wallet and counted out bills to push into my bra cup. Looking at me with a frown he counted out several more bills and pressed them into my other bra cup with further instructions.

"Get better clothes before you come back next time. Something that will say you belong here if a partner sees you. You look like a fucking teenager who wandered in to use the bathroom. And get a Brazilian Wax. I don't like hairy pussies," he ordered. "If I want to fuck a hairy pussy I'll fuck my wife. Next appointment I won't be so pressed for time so I'll really enjoy that tight pussy and your big titties longer. But for now, go... go... go..., I have another meeting to get to."

On the elevator ride to the lobby I was sure people would look at me differently. But they didn't. I was sure I wasn't the only one to smell the sex that was leaking from my cunt to wet the crotch of my panties. But no one seemed to.

I may have been new at being a whore but I wasn't new to cleaning up after sex. Mom and Dad never suspected how many times I came home from a date with tacky cum drying on my pussy lips and in the crotch of my panties. I used the lessons I'd learned then to good effect now after getting directions to a ladies room from a guard in the lobby. Standing in a stall I used tissue to wipe the smeared cum from between my legs.

While I was the only one in the bathroom, I rinsed the large, thick pool of cum from the crotch of my panties. Twirling them quickly to spin as much water as I could out of the fabric, I stopped from putting them on and put them in my purse instead. I inserted an emergency tampon from my purse to keep more cum from wetting my pussy lips and thighs.

My tits were swollen and uncomfortable so I took my bra off and put it in my handbag. Christ! I'd just let a stranger fuck me, what did it matter if I let strangers watch my tits swinging free under my shirt? After one last wipe of my pussy lips with a moist tissue I left the building. Bright sunlight and a warm breeze that swirled up my skirt to cool my still slightly damp pussy lips cleared my head as I began looking for a taxi to flag down.

This time when I entered Marla's office she came from around her desk to give me a hug. "The client called and said he was very pleased with you."

"I'm not sure why? It all seemed to happen so fast I don't see how he could have enjoyed it."

"One minute or two hours, it all pays the same," Marla replied with a shrug as she leaned against the edge of her desk. "He did say he wanted you to dress more like a professional before next time. Should I schedule you for a next time? Wait, wait, before you answer, here," Marla said as picked up an envelope from her desk and handed it to me. "You haven't given me a bank account I can deposit your pay in so that's it in cash this time. Now, tell me, do you want there to be a next time?"

I opened the envelope and looked at the money, then mentally added it to the tip I'd counted out while in the taxi coming here. It was more money than I'd ever had in my hands at one time. It far exceeded my weekly paycheck from the temp agency. All for undressing and spreading my legs for ten minutes. Easy money, the Devil on my shoulder was telling me.

The Angel on my other shoulder was telling me to give the money in the envelope and the tip money I'd received to Marla and walk out. If I didn't take the money then I hadn't been paid for sex. I wouldn't be a whore...

"Hell, yes, I want there to be a next time!"

What can I say? The Devil won...

Feeling daring, I asked Marla if she could schedule two clients for the next day. I left her office and wandered the city streets to kill an entire afternoon before my train left. Walking to a bank near the train station I used part of my cash to open an account. Calling Marla I gave her the account number she could deposit future money into for her IRS records. I felt wicked when Marla gave me a time to be in her office in the morning and said I could have 'two scoops of ice cream tomorrow'.


I spent the rest of my time eating a delicious lunch at a café I'd never been able to afford eating at before and window shopping. I would have bought a couple of the beautiful dresses on display but I had no way to explain to my mom how I could have earned the kind'a money to buy them. I would have also gotten a very disapproving glare and stern words about saving my money for college...

I'd turned nineteen just a couple of months before I became a whore... I'm 19! Legally I'm an adult and can do what I want, I pouted while looking at one dress I'd kill for! Yea, well, one year of being a legal adult didn't wipe out eighteen years of being my Mom's daughter. I sighed one last time in longing over the dress then called the temp agency and told them I quit. Walking to the train station I decided that I may not be able to buy the dress I wanted but I could work at the job I wanted...

The next morning I left the house in better clothes and by 1pm I'd spread my legs for both clients Marla had lined up. With over four hours to kill before my train, I called Marla and asked if I could have another scoop of ice cream. Thirty minutes later she called back with an address where I could get more ice cream...

Later I made a detour to my new bank and asked for my balance. Looking at the new amount after Marla had made three deposits, I never looked backed. I wanted all the ice cream I could eat!

Chapter 4

The Present...

In my apartment the next morning I changed into my work clothes for my regular once-a-week Tuesday client. My hair was in as tight a bun as I could manage under a brunette wig. This client didn't like blonde hair. Said it was a turn off for him. Something about his ex-wife. Hey, don't ask me... I would have figured that fucking a blonde like a whore while pretending it was his ex-wife would be a turn on for a guy. Mine not to reason why though. Mine just to put on a brunette wig once a week. Besides, he'd paid for the wig and he tipped extra when I wore it.

In Marla's office I denied knowing anything about Tim's suicide other than what was on the twenty second blurb from the news last night. Marla seemed to accept that I'd already left and was too far away to have heard the commotion when he hit the pavement.

"Since Tim committed suicide I'm sure the police will let the matter drop pretty quick," Marla said. "Damned shame when someone feels that suicide is the only option," Marla said sadly. Those were her last words on the subject. Marla promised to have another client to take Tim's time slot by Monday and I left to pretend to be a brunette while trying to keep my wig on during some pretty ho-hum, vanilla sex. No wonder this guy's wife had left.

I had from 10am (My morning client didn't have the time to enjoy me for the full two hours) till noon to grab something to eat and kill some time before meeting my next client just down the street at a hotel.

The rest of the week promised to be semi-normal with six more clients from Wednesday to Friday. All of them regulars. Wednesday, after my last appointment, my curiosity got the better of me and I counted the money Tim had given to me. Just over two hundred grand. FUCKING A!!! Damned nice severance pay, Tim. Thanks!, I said to the ceiling and to anyone up there that might be listening.

I didn't know what to do with the money at first. No one just walks into a bank with that much cash to deposit without attracting attention. Besides, how the hell do I explain to the IRS how I'd made that much money? Marla had me properly paranoid when it came to money and the IRS.

Maybe I couldn't deposit it but I could sure spend the fuck out of it! I already had visions of me in a red convertible tooling down the highways. Damn, I'd look hot! I put the cash back in Tim's briefcase and picked up the folder. It was thick with months worth of fake papers. At least I'd always assumed they were fake. But Tim had been adamant that I read my file and not discard it.

Uggh, reading! I'd finished in the top five percent of my graduating high school class. But that was due to constant parental pressure to study, strategically placed cheat sheets and a nerd doing most of the extra-curricular work I turned in. Not because I was smart. I'm afraid that some weeks I cut more classes than I attended. Well, nothing for it but to dig in and get it over with. Tossing the briefcase back into my closet, I put the file under my arm and headed for the train stop to go home.

Mom and Dad thought it was great I was showing initiative by bringing work home. After dinner it was shower and hair-washing night. Sitting on my bed I started brushing the tangles from my damp hair and dumped the file out onto the sheets. First thing I saw was the envelope I'd forgotten to mail. Picking it up I turned the envelope over and read the address... U.S. Federal District Attorney's Office Attn. Joshua Chamberlin... I read and reread the address, then tossed the envelope back onto the bed like it was a hot potato. I didn't know what was in the envelope but you don't send Christmas Cards to a Federal District Attorney. I'm not book smart but even after a few months working in the whore biz I was a little street smart.

Picking up the envelope again I felt it. It was thick with papers and there was a small, hard bump there, too. Anyone receiving this would be curious how a dead guy was sending them mail and my fingerprints were all over the damned envelope now! SHIT!!! I tossed it back on my bed and sat staring at it like it was a coiled up snake ready to strike.

I didn't want to know what was inside but I needed to send it in an envelope that didn't have my prints on it. Wearing gloves while transferring everything to a new envelope that didn't have my prints on it, that would be easy enough to put together. I put the envelope back into the file folder. I'd handle the matter later.

I started going through the papers next and I put all the one's I read into a discard pile. Nothing remotely interesting. I got through a quarter of them before picking up one of the documents I'd signed the day Tim had jumped. One of the three written in German. I found out quickly that three years of high school German didn't mean beans to a legal document written in German legal speak. There were too many words I didn't know. I might be able to ask, Where is the nearest train station?,(Wo ist der nächstgelegene Bahnhof?) if I was in Berlin but to translate German legal speak into plain English? I needed help. Not even my high school German/English Dictionary I dug out of my closet provided answers. Some words just didn't make sense and the sentence structure seemed wrong.

An Internet translation service was out. There'd be a record of the document somewhere on the web for all time. Tim had stressed I was to keep this all a secret. Besides, my computer's IP address would lead anyone curious straight to me. I needed access to books or to a computer that couldn't be traced back to me. Crap, I needed a library. Finding the other two papers written in German, I put all three back into the folder with the envelope.

I got through more papers that didn't seem important before calling it a night. Discards that didn't seem important I put into my purse to take back to my apartment to leave there. Papers I hadn't gotten to were placed back in the folder and the folder went in my underwear drawer.

Thursday was a normal work day for me. Two clients. Straight sex except my afternoon client liked sex while sitting in an office chair while I moved over his lap. He said he liked watching how my tits bounced. He also liked dirty talk while I fucked him.

The first time a client had asked me to talk dirty to him during sex I'm afraid I sounded pretty lame. I'd been raised as a 'good girl' before I started whoring and dirty words just didn't come naturally to me. After a few months of fucking for money I knew the patter and... Oh, Baby, tear my pussy up with your big cock! Yeah, that's it! Fuck me deep and hard. I want my pussy fucked raw before you fill me with your cum... just seemed to roll off my tongue now.

Thursday night I continued to go through the file and all the pages were put into the discard pile except for five. Each page was labeled IMPORTANT: MUST READ... Except for that heading, each paper was numbered 1 to 4 and each had a column of five, twelve-digit numbers. Opposite each number was a long series of nonsensical letters, numbers and symbols. I needed a nerd to help me figure this shit out. A nerd with a library card...

Friday after my last client I raced back to my apartment and waited. Showered and changed into street clothes, I was looking out my window until I saw Danny turn the corner. I raced down the stairs and met him on the sidewalk.

"Hey, Viv. Headed out to a wild, Friday night party?"

"Nope. In fact, I was waiting for you. How about joining me for something to eat? Any restaurant, your choice."

Danny's face lit up and then fell. "That really sounds terrific, Viv, but I can't. Money's a little tight for me this close to the end of the semester."

"Did I leave off the bit where it's my treat? I'll pay for everything including the cab rides."

Danny's expression went from sad to skeptical. "What do you want, Viv?"

"Who says I want anything? We're neighbors, sort of, and..."

Danny was shaking his head and interrupted me, "I say you want something. Girls like you only pay attention to guys like me when you want something."

"Hey! What do you mean girls like me?" I didn't have to take this! I pointed my finger at Danny, "You don't know anything about me."

With a muttered, Wanna bet, Danny brushed past me and entered the lobby. I went after him and continued where we'd left off as he opened his mailbox, "What do you mean, girls like me?" I was afraid that somehow Danny had learned what I did for money.

"Oh, please, Viv. I know your type from four years of high school hell," Danny replied while leafing through his mail. "You only hung out with the prettiest girls. The Pretty-Bitch-Club. You only dated jocks and you and your posse only talked about makeup, clothes and which jock was the better lay."

"We talked about other things, too!"

Danny smiled. Only then did I realize that he'd trapped me into confirming everything he'd said.

"Cheerleader and Prom Queen. You either got your homework done by getting your jock boyfriend to threaten a nerd or by showing the nerd your boobs through a thin t-shirt like you are now," Danny finished with a finger pointed at me. Or, rather, to my boobs.

"I'm wearing a bra," I said in a small voice and crossed my arms over my chest.

"Whoop-tee-do for you." Danny brushed past me and began up the stairs.

"She really burned you, didn't she? Whoever you have the hate-on that you just took out on me," I called out after him.

Danny stopped on the first landing and turned to face me. "Yeah, she really burned me. Freshman year I would have done anything for her. Until I heard her talking about me to her posse. After that it was one jock after another threatening to smash my face in unless I continued to do her homework. Do you know what Hell would be for me? Going back to high school."

I walked to the foot of the stairs and looked up at Danny. "Ok. I admit it. I've used my boobs to get a nerd to do my homework. But, I never asked a jock to threaten him. Instead, I gave him my protection. He was my nerd. He was off limits to all the jock's practical jokes. My posse never made fun of him. At least, not when I was around. And I lined up dates for him with several of the B-List girls. Actually, by our senior year he was pretty popular around the school."

"For a nerd?"

"Yea, for a nerd," I answered and shrugged. "I'm tall and pretty with big boobs. I'm not a miracle worker. I couldn't make his acne go away."

Danny came down a few steps and sat on the landing. "You really helped the guy?"

I went up the steps to sit on the landing beside him. "Yea, I think I did. Everyone who counted in our school knew that to mess with my nerd was to mess with me... And the ten jocks I could send after them. I can show you my yearbooks and what he wrote in them if you don't believe me."

"I believe you. Sorry about the Pretty-Bitch thing."

"That's ok, I've been called worse."

"Truth is, I'm glad you tried what worked for you in the past," Danny said with a leer and made a show of looking down the gape between my t-shirt and my tits. I was showing a pretty decent amount of cleavage.

"Hey!" I pulled up my t-shirt with one hand and swatted Danny's shoulder with the back of my other hand. "What worked for me in the past has gotten me out of at least two speeding tickets.

Since this seemed a time for truth, I admitted, "Ok. Maybe I did unc0nsciously..." Danny look unconvinced it had been anything unc0nscious on my part. "... fall back to old habits. But I really do want your help on something. You're the only nerd I know."

"Gee, flattery will get you nowhere."

"Oh, please. You carry around twenty pounds of books with you wherever you go. Your clothes always look like you've slept in them and you never comb your hair. It looks like a rat's nest half the time. Add some acne and glasses and you're the poster boy for Nerds-R-Us."

"I'm starting to rethink taking back my Pretty-Bitch apology," Danny said. But he said it with a laugh. "What do you want, Viv. Finals start next week and I really need to study this weekend, but I can spare a couple of hours if it will help you out."

"Actually, I doubt it will cost you even one minute of study time. But, a deal is a deal. I owe you a dinner, my treat, and then I'll tell you."

"I am pretty hungry. Give me twenty minutes to shower and get ready?"

I nodded and Danny started running the stairs. I gave him time to reach the third floor before yelling up the stairwell, "Make it twenty-one minutes and comb your damned hair!"

Chapter 5

While waiting for Danny I ran upstairs to put on a different shirt. I didn't feel right keeping the other, rather revealing t-shirt, on to ask Danny for the favor. Especially since he was on to my ploy. I changed quickly and then returned to the lobby. Calling Mom I told her I would be late and not to wait dinner.

"I'm going to eat at a restaurant here before coming home."

"Alone?"

"No. I'm treating someone I met to a meal. He's in college..."

"So, it's a boy." Trust my mom to jump on that detail.

"Yes, he's a boy, Mom. He's in college and money's a little tight for him right now. Final exams are next week and he's going to be studying all weekend. I just thought he might like a decent meal."

"What's this boy you want to be sure has a good meal studying?"

"He's pre-med."

"A doctor. That's nice."

"I think he wants to be a microbiologist or something. And, Mom, stop the thought right there, ok? We've never even been on a date. He works part-time as much as possible but with all the tests and studying here at the end of the semester he hasn't been able to work many hours. I'm just buying him a decent meal. Nothing else." A few lies mixed with truth works best from my experience.

"Ok, ok. Far be it for me to interfere in your life..." Oh, no. Here it comes. I knew it almost word for word by now... "...but I'd welcome grandc***dren while I'm still young enough to enjoy them."

"Mom!" I interrupted her when she paused to take a breath. "You're barely into your forties. I'm not even twenty! I don't think you need to worry about becoming old and decrepit for a few more years. I'm going to hang up now. But FYI, I'm coming back to the city tomorrow and Danny's showing me the campus on the way to the library."

I saw Danny coming out of the building. Waving, I spoke quickly, "Mom, I gotta go. See to you tonight."

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

Hanging up and walking into the den where her husband was watching the news, she said, "I heard it but I don't believe it."

"What?"

"Olivia is going into the city tomorrow so a boy can take her to the library."

"Olivia? In a library!?" He shook his head. "She's either gone crazy or she's serious about this boy. Tell her to bring him home. I want to meet the guy who can get Olivia to give up a Saturday for a trip to the library."

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

We left the restaurant with Danny patting his full stomach. "That was good. Viv, you've wined me and dined me, are you ready to tell me what I have to do as repayment? Remember, I may be easy but I'm not cheap."

I laughed. Dinner had gone well with good food and conversation. It had been far too long since I'd been with a guy just for the normal back-and-forth banter between a man and a woman. Now it was time for more truths mixed with lies.

"A regular employer learned that I studied German as a foreign language in high school and has asked me to translate some legal documents. I've tried but there are too many legal term I don't know. I need a comprehensive German/English dictionary that has legal terms to help me translate it and maybe some law books. So, my request is an easy one, Danny. I'd like you to take me with you to the university library in the morning."

Danny looked confused. "Why not just use one of the translation services on the internet?"

"He wants it kept confidential. Put something on the internet and it's there forever."

"But, you can go to the library alone. It's on maps of the campus..."

"I don't need a guide to the library, I need a guide inside the library. You know, show me where the books I need are."

"Let me guess, you never learned the Dewey Decimal System."

"Far as I know, Huey, Lewy and Dewey are Donald Duck's nephews. I didn't spend much time in a library while in school and a university library must be bigger than a high school library."

"You had a nerd to do your library work in school and now you want me to be your nerd."

"Yes, but in return you get my protection," I replied with a grin. More soberly I told Danny, "You don't need to do my homework for me, though. I just need a guide to point me in the right direction to the books."

"That's easy enough. Train leaves at 8am so don't blame me if you miss it."

I mentally reviewed the train schedule for a weekend morning and said, "Meet me at the coffee house next to the train station at 7:30 and I'll treat you to coffee and sticky buns."

Dropped off in front of our apartment building and learning that I was going to the train stop instead of my apartment, Danny insisted on walking with me since it was now beginning to turn dark. At the stop, we sat and I stretched my legs out. I was tired. My afternoon client had wanted to meet at a hotel for the entire two hours. A client in the morning and then two hours of hard fucking in the afternoon along with a very long day since waking up had worn me out.

Looking down my legs I waggled my feet in their three inch platforms. Danny was five-eight or nine. In my platforms I was at least five inches taller. I thought he wouldn't like me towering over him but he just laughed when I said I'd wear my flats tomorrow.

"I can't grow and you can't shrink, Viv. I'm always going to be shorter than you no matter what shoes you wear. I don't care, do you? Haven't you ever dated a guy shorter than you? Of, course you haven't," Danny answered himself with a grin.

"Besides," Danny continued to grin. "I'd like it if you'd wear high heels tomorrow, if you wouldn't mind."

"Why?"

"I'm meeting three guys in my study group at the library. If they see me with a tall, beautiful blonde..."

I started laughing. "You want them to think I'm your girlfriend. Ok, I can do that for my nerd."

Danny waited until I was on the train before leaving. Once I was home and had endured the gentle questioning by Mom I finally got to shower and hit the sheets. I thought I'd have no trouble going to sleep. The hard fucking this afternoon should have satisfied me but I hadn't orgasmed. I don't often masturbate but before long my fingers were under my panties were gone and my fingers were probing the wetness between my legs. One hand finger fucking my pussy while my other hand circled my clit.

As my fingers pushed me closer and closer to orgasm, my thoughts were of going on a date with a guy I actually cared about. Kissing him as he began to touch my boobs. Undressing me. I'd just reached the imaginary time where his cock was just penetrating me when I clapped my legs together and my muscles clenched as I came in a long, hard orgasm.


I hadn't come this hard in a very long time and I had to grind my teeth to keep my cries from echoing through the house. I was left panting. My pussy lips and fingers were wet, my panty's crotch was soaked and from my hole more grool was flowing.

My parent's bedroom was on the first floor so I had the second floor to myself. Rising, I padded down the hall to the second floor bathroom and used a damp washcloth to clean between my legs. Putting on my panties again it wasn't long before I fell asleep.

To Be Continued...