The Trade
- 2 years ago
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Learning A Trade free porn video
I came out of the shower and looked at myself critically in the mirror. I was 29 years old, typically Jewish, though perhaps I could pass for Italian or Spanish extraction with my black hair, brown eyes, and sharp facial features. 5' 4". My breasts sagged a bit, no longer the pert tits they had been 10 years ago. I had a nice waist even though the hips spread a little too much. I turned to the side and looked at my ass. Still nice, I though, if a bit broader than it had once been. Everything would look better if I lost 5-10 pounds, o.k. maybe 20. Diet time for sure. Nonetheless, I was not unattractive. I should state that more positively. I was attractive. I still had great legs, my best feature.
Why, then, was Larry so uninterested? We had been married for six years. For the first year or two, sex had been great, but it had tapered off. I expected that, but I didn't expect the taper to go quite so far. We had not had sex in three months. We were just too used to each other. There didn't seem to be any passion left. I had hoped to respark something on this trip.
Larry's law firm had sent him to Florida to do the ground work for their client's purchase of a Florida holding company. When I said I wanted to come, he had cautioned me that this would be a working trip and that he would be very busy. I knew that, but still a week in Florida -- evenings, palm trees, tropical breezes-- ought to let me entice him back into some romance, and starting a family. I put on the bra and the lace trimmed black panties I had bought at Victoria's Secret. Did the way they were cut in a V in front emphasize my tummy too much? I decided they would work, and pulled out the spaghetti strap black cocktail dress from the closet.
Every time I had tried to talk to Larry about having kids for the last few years he had seemed receptive, but "couldn't we talk about it tomorrow". Tomorrow never seemed to come. My biological clock was ticking. My parents had already made some pointed remarks about grandchildren. His parents had done the same, with his mother in that indirect but oh-so-intrusive manner trying to ask whether there was some problem. There was a problem. Her son wasn't interested in bedding his bride. No sex, no baby.
I slipped on the black cocktail dress and carefully made up my face. Maybe the problem was me. I had bought and read a book on sex my sister had recommended. I finished it feeling like a sixth grader. I had not known half the things in the book. Well, I knew them now. I stopped for a moment and squeezed my inner muscles. Three months of doing kegels made it almost automatic. Larry would be for a surpise the next time he had his cock in me. That should be tonight, I thought, recalculating the days from my last period, but tomorrow night for sure. I had gone off the pill two months ago. I am not sure it even registered on him. I wondered if he would even notice if I kept my legs elevated for a half hour after we made love. Probably wouldn't, I thought. He'd go off to take a shower. Am I that uninteresting? I pulled out the stockings to put on. Damn, my legs needed shaving again. I looked at the clock. No time to shave my legs before dinner.
Maybe things would have been different if I had kept my job. When we married I was working for a copier company. I was pretty low on the totem pole, and I didn't make much money, but with time I would have worked my way up. We could use the money. Larry was insistent that I stop working. He didn't think it was good for his image at the law firm. If the law firm wanted that image that was fine, but then they should pay Larry more. He thought he would make partner last year, and the year bfore, but he hadn't. Maybe this year. I really shouldn't complain. We did all right financially, we just had to watch what we spent, and Larry wasn't very good at watching what he spent. I think he took over the finances and paid the bill so I wouldn't know what he spent.
Still, I had enjoyed working. It was nice to have people recognize that you were more than a bubblehead. Earning the money made me feel like I was worth something. A couple of times some of the males had flirted with me. Nothing serious, but it was a boost to a lady's morale. Nobody had flirted with me since I got married. No sex appeal, I guess. My sister was two years older and to hear her tell it, every man that came with 10 feet of her was hitting on her. I wonder if she was telling the truth. She did have a sort of easy way with men, and they responded to it. I snagged a run in one of the stockings, and rooted around in the closet to get another.
My sister thought Larry was having an affair. I didn't think so, but I wasn't sure. His secretary seemed like just the sort that would have an affair with her boss. Blonde hair, and she needed to gain 10 lbs rather than lose any. She walked like a model, with her pelvis canting from side to side. She ought to have a drum playing when she walked. Boom, bam, boom, bam... I stood up. Experimentally, I tried cocking my hip from side to side and snorted. It looked like I needed to go to the bathroom real bad. I wondered how I would look as a blonde. For the umpteenth time I decided I would look like corroded brass. Blonde just wouldn't go with my skin tone.
Dinner that evening was with two of the officers from the company. They talked about tax structuring. Every dinner since we had arrived in Florida had been with somebody from the company. After dinner one of the officers handed Larry a file folder.
When we got back to the motel, Larry walked in, took off his suit jacket, and sat down at the little table in the motel room and started looking at the papers in the folder. Ten minutes later I fixed two drinks, walked over and put one in front of Larry. Then I massaged his shoulders for a minute, and bent down and kissed the back of his neck.
"Thanks. But not now. I have to get these read and marked up before tomorrow morning."
I don't think that it was the brush off, so much as the way he did it, without even taking his attention off the papers. I was nothing, just an anonymous annoyance. Refusing my attentions was like saying he didn't want cream in his coffee. I tore into him. He snarled back, probably because he had been working so hard. In half an hour I was lying well over on my bed, my back to Larry, sniffling. I wondered if he still loved me at all. At least he had promised to come home early tomorrow, and we would have an evening together, just the two of us. Maybe we could have a nice dinner and walk on the beach. I thought how romantic it would be if we conceived a child on the beach. Not very realistic, I thought. The cops would probably catch us and take us in. Not realistic at all. If I don't have enough sex appeal to have Larry even look at me, I doubted that he would risk getting sand in his underwear.
The next morning, I shaved my legs, went shopping and found a nice little "Florida" outfit. "Little" was probably the operative word. It was, well, skimpy. The white shorts were no longer than my crotch, and the blouse had a deep V neckine. I worried that it would look like I was trying to be a teenager, but the sales girl talked me into it, and I decided that in Florida it was obligatory to show a lot of skin. Not too expensive, but I also bought a pair of sandals. Well, Larry wouldn't see the visa bill till the end of the month.
I took a nap when I got back to the hotel room. I was hungry, but decided I would skip lunch. The diet, I thought, starts now. A beauty sleep would be a lot better for me than a sandwich. At 3:00 I woke up to the phone. It was Larry. Something had come up about one of the offices 150 miles up the coast. He and one of the vice presidents were going to drive up there, have dinner with the manager, and he wouldn't be back till late, no need for me to stay up. 'Sorry, hon. We'll just reschedule our little dinner for two for tomorrow night. No, wait, we are having dinner with the directors then. Friday night will work though." I didn't argue with him. I didn't remind him of the time of the month. I just said "fine", hung up, rolled over and burst into tears. I cried for the next half hour. I didn't know what I could do. I fell asleep.
I woke up at 7:30 with my stomach growling. I didn't want to get dressed and go to the dining room. I decided to go down to the bar and have a drink and a sandwich, a low cal one like a turkey sandwich. My stomach wanted a cheesburger and fries. I put on the short white shorts and the top. My now tanned legs, I decided, looked good in short white shorts and the high heeled sandals. I looked at myself in the mirror. A little too "hot" I decided, and substituted a green floral blouse with buttons and a collar for the top with the plunging neckline. I unbuttoned the top two buttons in tribute to the plunging neckline I was too shy to wear. Good enough for the bar, I thought. I slipped my muder mystery in my purse and headed for the elevator.
The bar was crowded, and all the tables were taken. The motel mostly catered to busninessmen, and they had been augmented by a group of locals who apparently had stopped by for happy hour and stayed. I sat at the bar and ordered a pina colada. It tasted good. I wondered how many calories the pina colada had. I had better order the turkey sandwich without mayonnaise. When I asked the bar tender for the sandwich menu he informed me that they stopped serving food in the bar after 8:00. I compromised on a second pina colada.
Across from me I had noticed a brunette maybe 20 years old in a very short skirt and halter top. Her long legs were crossed and she was sitting sideways. She had been at the bar for about 10 minutes when one of the businessmen, in his forties maybe, talked with her for a moment and they walked out. I thought that they must either know each other or that was a really fast pickup. I ordered one last pina colada and decided to forego the sandwich. I was a little tiddly. Up to the room for some tv, bed, and maybe some more crying seemed like a good idea. if I skipped the sandwich I wondered whether I would be able to see any difference in the mirror. Not after three gazillion pina colada calories I decided.
Another woman sat down at the bar, dressed a bit brazenly, and in a few minutes a man talked briefly with her. She shook her head, he left. Another man came up and spoke with her, and she got up. leaving a half drink and went with him. Suddenly, I realized what I was seeing. These were prostitutes. I couldn't believe it. This had seemed like a respectable motel, but the more I thought about it, the surer I was that they were prostitutes. I wondered how much they were paid, and how many customers they had in a day. They didn't seem like they lacked in sex appeal. Four minutes and two men. Maybe, I thought, I should start wearing red sandals.
I finished the third pina colada. The bar tender noticed my empty glass and raised his eyebrow. I nodded and he put a fourth pina colda in front of me. I knew I shouldn't drink this one, but I was soon sipping it and chomping on the basket of pretzels the bartender had brought over. Four gazillion pina colada calories and a few hundred in pretzels, and was that, yes it was, peanuts mixed in with the pretzels. I rooted around in the bottom of the basket.
"Hey, there. You are looking good this evening"
The voice had a Southern accent to it, but more like Texas than Florida. The man was probably in his late forties, tall, brown eyes, with a little grey in his light brown hair. He was wearing a light sports jacket over a dark knit shirt. He had slipped in between me and the next bar stool.
"Thanks." I couldn't think of what else to say. I knew it was time for me to go up to the room.
"Would $100 be enough for an hour of your time?"
I was confused. I didn't know what he meant. Then suddenly it dawned on me. He thought I was a prostitute. He was offering me a hundred dollars to go with him. My God, a hundred dollars. I had no idea prostitutes made that much. How many customers would they go with in an evening? I didn't know whether to be insulted and angry, or to be complimented that he thought sex with me was worth a hundred dollars. I wished Larry were here to hear this. Larry would never believe I had been solicited as a "lady of the evening". It was exciting.
I heard a voice, that couldn't be mine, because I know I hadn't intended to say it:
"Two hundred. Two hundred dollars."
The man pasused for just a second, and glanced at my legs.
"Alright little lady. Two hundred it is. You look more than two hundred dollars worth of sexy."
He couldn't have said anything nicer. He thought I was worth two hundred dollars for an hour's romp in bed. Next time I ought to tell Larry the price was $200, no $300 for Larry, because Larry was a difficult customer. I wondered how much the leggy brunette had been offered. I grinned. Bet she hadn't been able to get two hundred dollars.
I started to get up and tell the gentleman, that much as I appreciated his offer, I was not in the business. I was definitely whoozy. I had not realized how big an impression on me the four pina coladas had had. The bar stool was on a little platform, and one foot went over the edge, and I started to fall.
Josephina
- 22.10.2022
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