0 comments/ 39273 views/ 5 favorites Freelance By: Bad Mischa Bad When I left my house, I wasn't entirely sure why I took the job. But as I drove, praying the sputtering in the engine was just my imagination, I knew. I was broke. For what felt like the millionth time, I cursed my decision to leave Blackwell Modeling as an assistant photographer. What made me think I could handle the stresses and demands a freelance photographer had to deal with everyday? Sure, I wasn't so much a photographer as an assistant with Blackwell, but at least it was steady work, a steady paycheck... steady gropes from the boss. I sighed and shook my head to clear it. Robert Blackwell was a low-life ass with grabby hands. He rarely let me touch his cameras once he switched from SLR to digital, and that switch also diminished his need for an assistant. Rob no longer needed me to process his film or manage his slide library. Instead, he kept me around to fetch his coffee and to cop a feel. Not that I was opposed to sex with the boss; Rob was hot, so I could overlook his sleaziness, but he only stayed interested long enough to get himself off. Screw my needs. So, I left to start my own career, but it was times like these, leaving my house long after sunset, driving around LA for weird, random jobs, when I questioned the move. I could hear Rob now... "You'll never make it on your own, Simone, love. But you go, try it out. And when you fail and prove me right, you come on back. I'll find something for you to do." No. I firmly pushed all thoughts of Rob, his stupid smirk, his hands, and my doubts out of my mind. This was the right thing to do. It had to be, because I was rapidly approaching rock bottom. Twenty minutes later, I checked the scrap of paper I wrote the directions down on. I was here. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my camera bags and my purse, and headed up the walk. It was a nice house, nothing overly fancy, but certainly not cheap. Private drive, thick trees around the property. I normally tried to avoid working late at night, but this client, a Miss Shelly Brighton, was willing to pay more for my time. We had talked several times, and she wanted something rough, something natural in quality. Nothing staged, which meant I didn't need to carry too much equipment with me. She just wanted some portraits of herself done. I was running through a mental checklist as I rang the doorbell. I had two portable lights in one bag, and another two in the car, just in case the lighting in her house was poor. I had my primary camera as well as my backup camera, and several lenses. Extra battery packs, check. The job had sounded straightforward, the whole reason why I took it, but you never knew. My hand rose to press the doorbell again when the door opened and I got my first look at Ms. Shelly Brighton. She was about my age, 26 years old, and around my height, 5'9'', slender, with the requisite LA boob job. Where my hair was a curly blonde, she had red hair that fell sleekly around her body, reaching all the way down to her waist. Her eyes were light brown and her lips were slicked with pink lip gloss. She wore nothing but a nude colored lacy bra and thong... and she was gorgeous. I swallowed hard, and dismay flooded me. This was not going to be a few straightforward portraits, I could feel it. "Ms. Brighton?" I managed to pull myself together, and was pleased when my voice sounded smooth, professional. "I'm Simone Daniels." "Please. Call me Shelly," she replied, shaking my extended hand before opening the door wider and gesturing. "Won't you come in?" I stepped past her, catching a whiff of her perfume. Something smooth, sensual, the kind you'd put on to seduce your lover. I managed not to sigh, but just barely, my deprived body reacting to her scent. I could feel my nipples tighten a little and prayed it didn't show through my shirt. It had been a long while since I had any satisfaction, and if tonight's job was going to be what I thought it was, I would need some personal time later on at home. Shelly maneuvered her way in front of me, giving me a nice view of her round, tight ass. I hadn't noticed before, but she wore tall stilettos. With each step, her hips moved provocatively back and forth, back and forth. I cleared my throat and gripped my camera bags tighter. "If you need a few more minutes to get ready, I can set up my equipment." Please, I prayed silently, go put something more on. "Oh, I'm ready whenever you are, honey." Warning bells sounded loudly in my head; no, this was not going to be a straightforward portrait. I could only follow as she led me through the house, her hips swaying the whole way, till we came to the sun porch. "I know I should have mentioned the kind of portrait I wanted, but I didn't want to scare you off," she said turning to face me fully, her lips curved up in a smile. "See, I'm a fan of yours. I saw ads you did in Vogue a few months back with Marguerite, and thought it was so tastefully erotic. That's the kind of self portrait I'd like." I knew exactly what she was referring to. The first job I had once going freelance was with a popular up-and-coming model, Marguerite Delco, and was shown in Vogue magazine. It was the first, and only, really big break I had had to date. And Shelly was right; it was tastefully erotic, with only jewelry and accessories hanging off the model's perfect body. But that wasn't my choice; it was what the client wanted, and I wasn't entirely comfortable doing it then or now. "Well, Shelly, to be honest, I'm not entirely comfortable-" I began, but she cut me off. "I know what you're going to say, and I'll make it worth your time." I took a step back, trying not to look at her breasts and the lacy, barely there bra that held them very close together. "I really don't-" "I'll pay you triple what we originally agreed on." I paused, and did the quick math. Triple would allow me to fully overhaul my car, and still pad my savings. "But I don't have anything remotely close to the jewelry we used for the shoot-" "Oh, but I do!" She moved to a wicker table and opened a big jewelry case to show me the long necklaces and earrings inside. I hesitated again; part of me definitely wanted to see Shelly with even less on, but this couldn't be professional, could it? "Triple?" I asked. "Triple," she replied with a grin. I only nodded to her as I set my cases down and took stock of the room. Shelly had cleared most of the furniture out, leaving just a lounge chair covered with some black gauzy material and the side table with the jewelry case. As I set up my equipment, my eyes kept sliding over to her and down her body. She was bent over the table slightly, looking through the jewelry box, giving me a perfect view of the thin material snuggled in between the cheeks of her ass. I could feel a tingle in between my legs, but could only press my thighs together tightly. The thin cargo pants I wore couldn't create enough friction. Not that I would have the time to take care of it, anyway, as Shelly turned back to me just then. "Are there any poses in particular you'd like me to take?" I asked, as I bent forward to turn my portable stereo on. Low instrumental music pumped through. "Yes, actually." I stepped closer as she explained a few poses, all of which showcased a single piece of jewelry against her lovely body. I gamely nodded, and picked up my camera as she slipped off the bra. Her back was to me when she did so, and did my best to muffle a whimper as she bent over to slide the thong completely off. My eyes were riveted to her legs and the place where they met. I could feel my mouth water as I got a clear view of bare pussy. Without thinking, I lifted the camera to my eye and clicked off a few shots. "Are we starting?" she asked, fussing with her belt as she sat on the lounge chair, facing away from me. "Just a few test shots," I replied. Though it felt like that image of her pussy would be forever burned in my mind, holding my camera, feeling the familiar knobs and dials underneath my hands helped me to relax and calm down. We didn't speak but a few words to teach other as we went through each shot she wanted. Her hair a sleek waterfall, ending just above her ass, the tips just touching the slender silver belt. The cabochon stones covering her nipples as she sat and smiled ever so slightly into the camera. Though I was mostly professional with my camera placement, as time went on and we became more comfortable with each other, I began to encourage her into more provocative poses. "Arch your back and tilt your head to the side," I murmured, stepping closer to the chair. Through my lens, I saw the light glint off of a large hanging pendant, the reflections the stone scattered across her firm breasts, her hard nipples. It was a beautiful sight. "Arch a little more, that's it." It seemed the more I talked to her, the closer I got, the more Shelly responded, the more she moved and writhed on the chair. Despite my best efforts, the tingling I felt in my pussy turned into a full-blown heat, and I was no longer trying to fight it. I let the camera hang from the strap around my neck as I reached over to undo the necklace. "Lift your hips up, I want to try something." She obeyed without hesitation, and I slid the long necklace around her slim hips. Moving so that I had one leg on either side of the chair just above her head, I snapped a few shots of her long body. "That's gorgeous." I stepped down to her feet to catch that angle, and noticed her staring right at me. I started to lower the camera when she parted her legs. "And how's this?" she whispered, her hands sliding down her body to rest on her knees. I hesitated only a few seconds before I reached between them and pulled the necklace down into the V of her legs, the backs of my fingers grazing her lower lips as I nestled the pendant against her clit. She was already wet, and I knew I wanted her. "Perfect," I answered quietly, snapping off a few pictures of this position. Shelly moaned as I made minute adjustments, her hands reaching up to pluck at her nipples. She was so wet I could see the moisture clinging to her skin, and I pushed her legs flat so the light would shine on her entire body, so that my camera could take her in. "I need you to touch me." Shelly sat up a little, her hands reaching for me. "No, not yet." I was kneeling in between her legs, taking close-ups of her beautiful breasts, of her mouth, making sure I missed nothing of her. With each click of my camera, each frame of her skin I took, the reluctance I had began to slip away. The more I saw her, the more I wanted her. "Yes, now. You taking pictures of me like this... surely you can tell what it's doing to me." Shelly reached for me again and this time I lowered the camera as hers slid over my breasts. It was my turn for my head to fall to the side as her mouth, that slick pink mouth, closed over a hardened nipple, sucking it through my shirt. As our gazes met, her hands tugged my top up and off, and my pants open and down. She had me on my back now, pulling my pants off each leg, before climbing back up my body. Slowly, she kissed me, her lips playfully teasing mine, her tongue lapping at my mouth, my chin, before slithering past my lips to rub against my tongue. Her body writhed against me, as it did before for each picture, and I felt her move down my body. Lightly at first, she licked my nipples; one lick on one stiff tip, then one lick on the other, back and forth, over and over. My breasts were not nearly as full as hers; rather, they were quite small, but Shelly didn't seem to care. She continued this sweet assault, each lick lasting longer and longer till she finally sucked on each one in succession. Somewhere along the way, she had lifted my camera off from around my neck. Now, she pushed it into my hands, a silent encouragement to keep snapping away. But rather than focus on the jewelry, I now focused on her mouth as she sucked and licked her way down my torso. Each time she moved, the shutter clicked. I was mesmerized by the arch of her back, the thrust of her ass high into the air as she kissed me just below the belly button, the way her hair, the whole of it, scattered across me. Shelly lifted her head to smile a wicked smile at me, and I had yet another lovely picture of the length of her body, except this time, there below her legs, dangled the pendant. I only saw it for a brief moment as she tugged my underwear off. I had no time to be ashamed of my plain cotton briefs before her mouth descended on my exposed pussy, her lips nibbling at my clit, her tongue sliding across my lips. I took pleasure in all of the sensations she gave me, even more so when I lifted the camera again and saw that her hair covered most of my bottom half. Only her back and my knees poked through uncovered, but the rest was hidden. I delighted in the contrasts of feeling her tongue poke its way into my depths, but yet seeing nothing. I tried to shift, but Shelly had her arms locked around my legs and hips. I twisted enough to lay her on her back, her red hair pooling around her head, over her forehead, and around my legs. The whole of it was so beautiful, with her mouth still lapping and sucking on my pussy, that I felt myself trip over the edge and lifted the camera once more. With the orgasm still rocking through me, I turned around again, this time with my face close to Shelly's pussy. I took pictures with one hand as I used my other to spread her wide, to tease her, to brush against her sensitive flesh. I left the necklace on, occasionally using it to brush against her clit, just to hear her moan, or just as decoration against her flesh; but always, always was my camera clicking away. Again we moved, and I felt her fingers dip into my pussy as I focused in on her ass above me. I moved the necklace so its strand was held in between her cheeks, the pendant dropping just under her like a prize. I carefully took it into my mouth, tugging it down, rubbing it against the sensitive flesh, thoroughly enjoying not only the sight but the moans she could not hold back. Then, finally, I set the camera aside and gripped her hips with my hands. With the pendant still in my mouth, I eased it into her, in and out, around her holes, licking around the stone. Shelly was so wet, so hot, and I felt her mimic all of my movements on her against my own pussy. Anytime I slid into her, she slid into me, keeping pace with me, matching every move. And, it was not long till we both came, long and hard, against each other. It wasn't until much later that I had collected myself, and my equipment, and stumbled to my car. No, this was not the standard job I thought it was going to be, but I was satisfied with my art, and had gained the client's satisfaction, too. As I settled behind the wheel, I looked up and saw Shelly in the doorway. She gave a wave, and I recalled her last words to me: "When the pictures are ready, I'd like to request a personal consultation with you to review them." I returned the wave with a smile, before backing out of the driveway and heading home. Yes, I decided, a personal follow-up to this job was absolutely necessary. Freelancing Up until a few months ago my wife and lived a pretty uneventful life, filled with the normal routine of work, weekend errands, and paying the bills. We have been married for almost twenty-five years and were moving into the same kind of rut that most people fell into as they reached their mid-forties. For most of the time we have been together I have been trying to get Mary to open up a little bit sexually in the area of other lovers. I've never stopped to analyze why the thought of her with another man turns me on, but it is a recurring fantasy (like it is with many men) and our sex life has been sprinkled with sessions on that theme. She has consistently told me she has no interest in actually pursuing that lifestyle, although she has come around to being open with it for fantasy purposes. Many, many times over the years she has responded strongly to the little stories I've told her, but then always insists that it isn't really the story getting her aroused, it's the fact that she was already aroused that allowed her to respond to the story. I had pretty much resigned myself to the fact that this was how it was going to be. About six months ago we were invited to a party given by a friend of mine, Ray. Ray runs his own business as a consultant, and he offers a range of financial services. We're something of an odd couple. Ray is black and I am white and we live in a county that is about 98% white so the fact that we're friends raises a few eyebrows. Ray is very well off, living in a house that at least four times bigger than the one I live in. I've been over there plenty of times and there are TVs in every room, including the bathrooms. Ray has told me that one of his clients owns a Gentleman's Club and that twice a year he goes down there to audit his books. The guy arranges for Ray to be entertained in a private room. Ray's thing is to watch two young girls going down on each other, and he always tells me that they don't touch him so he isn't really cheating on his wife by watching. He touches them and watches them get each other off, but I guess in his mind that's a line he hasn't crossed. There were probably fifty or sixty people at this party, which didn't surprise me. Ray literally knows everybody. All of the people were clients or their spouses and Mary and I walked around doing the party thing of small talk and drinks and finger food. After a bit we split up and Ray and I got into a conversation about college basketball while Mary wandered off on her own. Mary is a very attractive woman who weighs the same now as she did when she was in college decades ago. She was wearing a dress that showed off her cleavage and for the first time in a long time was wearing make-up, which showed off her dark eyes and features. Her hair had turned silver when she was in her thirties but it was long and thick and usually acted as a magnet for attention because she still has a young looking face. She could easily pass for her mid-thirties and the contrast with the silver hair draws comments all the time. Ray and I were standing in one corner of his huge living room talking when he looked over my shoulder and said, "Well, well." "What's the matter?" I asked as I turned around. I didn't see anything wrong. Mary was on the other side of the room talking to a tall black man who was obviously hitting on her, leaning down to whisper in her ear so others couldn't hear what he was saying. Mary was smiling and shaking her head, but didn't look the least bit uncomfortable so I figured it was just some harmless flirting. "You might want to go get Mary," Ray said. "Why?" "That guy that's talking to her is Ashad, the owner of that club I've told you about." I laughed. "So? What do you think he's doing, recruiting her?" Ray got a weird look on his face. "That's exactly what he's doing. I've seen him do this kind of thing before." "So he uses your parties as tryouts, does he?" I joked, still thinking Ray was kidding around. "Do you get a cut or something?" "Listen, man, I'm not kidding. He has gotten women from some of these parties. He's a big client of mine. Just from him alone I do about a quarter of my business so I'm not going to stop inviting him. But once or twice over the years he's convinced a wife or two to go into the business and make a few bucks on the side." "I hardly think Mary is going to become a stripper. She's a little old for that, don't you think?" Ray shook his head. "He's got plenty of twenty somethings for the dancing part. He'll be looking for women to be what he calls hostesses, taking care of high rolling clients in private rooms." I wasn't convinced. "That may be so, but Mary would never do it anyway." "You know that for a fact?" "Of course. Come on, I've told you about how hard it is to even get her to do other men in a fantasy much less real life." Ray and I had often traded stories about our respective sex lives. "Okay, just remember I warned you. Ashad can be very persuasive. And if Mary agrees, she's getting in to something that won't be all that easy to get out of." I shook my head. "I still think you're way off. She'll never do it. Hell, it's even been one of the fantasies we've done over the years and she usually insists she wasn't into it." Ray looked at me for a second. "But maybe she was?" I shrugged. "I still don't think it would happen." "But would you want it to?" Ray asked. I smiled. "Fantasy-wise, sure. But Mary won't do it for real." "What if she would? Would you interfere?" I shook my head. "No, not if that was what she wanted to do. Even if I told her no, if she wanted to she could just go behind my back anyway. But since you seem to think your friend can talk her into it, maybe I should consider the possibility. Sure wish I could hear what he's saying." Ray nodded, thinking. "Maybe you can. You know the spare bedroom downstairs? There's a big empty storage closet there. You go down there and I'll go pull Ashad aside and tell him that if he's going to hit on my guests he should use the downstairs bedroom." "Don't you think he'll get offended that you're accusing him of hitting on your friends?" "Why should he? That's what he's doing and he knows that I know his routine. He'll go for it, don't worry." "What would make Mary go down there with him?" Ray laughed. "She'll come if he goes, don't worry. You go ahead and they should be there in about five minutes. If he turns me down, I'll come get you." Feeling a little bit foolish, I slid away from the party casually and made my way down into the basement. Ray had a nice little bedroom fixed up there so he could sleep there if he was working really late instead of waking his wife up getting into bed. The closet was a walk-in type and the door was the kind with adjustable slats. I pulled a chair in, adjusted the slats enough so I could see most of the room, and settled back to wait. I was feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness. I was pretty sure I could handle Mary doing something outside our marriage bed, but what would I do if Ashad tried to force himself on her here in the bedroom? I couldn't allow her to be forced into doing anything, but how would I explain my presence in the closet? It would be obvious that I was in on this whole thing and Mary would be pissed, to say the least. I was hoping it wouldn't come to that. I heard footsteps on the stairs and got ready. Mary and Ashad came into the room and looked around. Mary had a little grin; the look she often got when she had a little alcohol in her but wasn't really drunk. She took a seat on the bed. Ashad quietly closed the door, and I noticed he locked it before turning around. "Ray sure has a lot of bedrooms," Mary said. "I've never been in his house before." "He does well for himself," Ashad said. He had a deep voice. Ashad was a bit over six feet tall and carried himself with the confidence of someone used to having his orders followed. "He should, with what I pay him." "Are you a client of his?" Mary asked, sipping her drink. "His biggest," Ashad confirmed. "I pay him seventy-five thousand a year to make sure I'm making money. Most of it hidden from the tax vultures." "Seventy-five?" Mary repeated, impressed. "You must have a pretty good business. What do you do?" Ashad smiled. "I am in the entertainment business. I run a very exclusive club for gentlemen who want a night's relaxation. Rich businessmen for the most part, with an occasional athlete and celebrity mixed in." "So you run a night club? What's the name of it?" "Not a night club," Ashad corrected her. "A gentlemen's club. It's called The Silver Fox and it's down near the harbor." "What's a gentlemen's club?" Mary asked. Ashad smiled. "A club for gentlemen to be entertained. We have young ladies who provide them with a night they will never forget." Mary's eyes went wide. "You mean a strip club?" Ashad laughed and shook his head. "Don't look so shocked, Mary. Men like looking at women. But this isn't a strip club. We have dancers, and yes they dance mostly naked. But we have lounge areas for people to watch sporting events, pool tables, poker tables, and private areas. The bar is fancier than any place you've ever been, I promise." "I've never been able to understand how women could do something like that," Mary said. "Money, what else? My dancers average about fifty to sixty thousand a year counting the tips they get from the high rollers who come to my place." "Really? Sixty thousand?" Ashad nodded. "That's conservative. Some make more. Than there are the hostesses. They don't dance, but they entertain special parties in my exclusive private room area. They make much more than that." Mary seemed curious. "How much do they make?" Ashad sat next to her on the bed. He made no move toward her, but Mary seemed a little nervous to have him so close to her. "Are you interested?" he asked softly. Mary laughed and shook her head. "I could never do anything like that. And I'm way too old anyway." "That's nonsense," Ashad said. "Age is only a number. You have a look that my clients would pay well for. Your eyes, your figure, and that exquisite hair of yours would make you an instant attraction." I could see that Mary felt a little flattered, but I could also see she was getting more and more uneasy. "No thanks. I have no interest in that kind of thing." "What kind of thing?" Ashad asked, leaning closer to her. "Making money? What if I told you that I would pay you fifteen hundred dollars a night to be one of my hostesses? You would easily make another three to four thousand in tips, maybe more. And that is cash, untaxable and untraceable." "Five thousand dollars a night?" Mary repeated, a little stunned I think. "More than that probably. That's a conservative guess on my part." "For doing what exactly?" Mary asked. "I'd have to strip for them, right?" Ashad looked into her eyes and said, "You would entertain them. Whatever they need for entertainment, you would provide. You would not strip, but you would certainly have sex with them." "Become a whore?" Mary said. "That's what you asking me, to be a whore?" Ashad was not the least bit intimidated by her anger. "You can label it whatever you like, but the fact is you could easily make several hundred thousand dollars a year. We're talking about men who think nothing of dropping a five hundred dollar tip for a blowjob and a thousand for getting laid. Three or four men a night would bring in a very lucrative income, all tax free. You have an outstanding body and you are very beautiful. Why not take advantage of the gifts you have been given?" I could see that Mary was stunned by the amounts he was talking about. She gulped her drink down and turned to set it on the table. When she turned back, Ashad had moved closer so that his face was only inches from hers and he stared right into her eyes. "You're serious," Mary said softly. "Girls at your place make that kind of money?" "Not all of them," Ashad said. "But you would be something special." Mary shook her head again. "That's a lot of money, but that isn't something I'm interested in." "Have you ever had sex with a black man?" Ashad asked her bluntly. "No." "So is that it? Are you turning this down because you have something against sex with black men?" Mary said quickly, "No, that isn't it at all. I just don't see myself doing something like that." "You might actually like it," Ashad said softly, bringing his finger up to lightly touch her cheek. It was the first physical contact with Mary, and she swallowed nervously, but didn't move away. Obviously, she felt like moving would merely confirm Ashad's accusation that she had some kind of prejudice. Ashad took her lack of response to be a signal and slid closer so that their thighs were touching. He started stroking her hair slowly, and leaned over to kiss her on the side of her neck. Mary looked uncomfortable, but she wasn't really struggling so I stayed where I was. "Ashad, you need to stop," Mary said. "We're at a party where anyone could come down at any moment." "So if we were alone, you wouldn't mind going a little farther?" Ashad asked as he continued what he was doing. "I don't know...maybe..." I couldn't believe it when Mary said that. Apparently Ashad's conversation had gotten her more aroused that it looked. "Ray has locked the door at the top of the stairs," Ashad told her. "He'll make sure we're not disturbed." "Ray knows we're down here?" Mary said in surprise. "Of course. It was his idea," Ashad told her. "His idea?" Mary didn't sound upset, but she had a weird tone to her voice. Her hand was now on Ashad's arm, but she was still making no move to get away from his attentions. Ashad had done nothing more than stroke her hair and nuzzle at her neck, taking his time and being patient. "He said that if I was going to recruit people I better do it in private and suggested we come down here." "So Ray knew you were going to ask me this and didn't say anything?" Mary asked as if trying to understand. Ashad smiled. "He did." Mary seemed to be lost in thought and Ashad resumed his kissing, certain now that she wouldn't push him away. "Does he ever come to your club?" Ashad nodded. "He comes down a couple of times a year. And he gets to go to the private rooms." He moved his hand to start stroking Mary's arm, moving it slowly up to her shoulder, then back down again. Mary shivered but didn't stop him from doing it. "I don't know what I'd do if anyone I knew ever saw me doing something like that," she whispered, shocking me. It seemed she was actually considering it. "I'm sure Ray has thought about you plenty of times," Ashad told her. "Haven't you ever thought about him?" "No, he's a friend of my husband's," Mary said. "That would be really awkward." "Not as much as you would think," Ashad assured her soothingly. "You're not a virgin, you know how good sex can be. Ray is just like any other man, he can give you pleasure and you can give it back to him. Just like now." He turned her face to his and began to softly kiss her lips. Mary allowed it, then her hand went to the side of his face and she began to kiss him back. Ashad dropped one hand down and caressed the top of her breasts, and when Mary made no protest, he slipped his hand inside the top of her dress and began squeezing her breasts. I could see that his fingers were tweaking her nipples and Mary began to moan as she kissed him. "Just imagine yourself in a room with four or five rich men," Ashad whispered as he continued to work on her breasts. His other hand moved to unzip the dress to make it easier and it dropped to her lap, exposing her tits. Her nipples were rock hard and she had her eyes closed with her head thrown back as Ashad slowly aroused her. "They are all watching you and you love knowing that you'll be taking them all on, one after one. The leader has you in his lap and his hands are touching you all over, getting you wet and ready for him." Mary was watching his hands on her tits, bracing herself with both hands and making no move to stop him. I couldn't believe my eyes, she was going to let him fuck her right here at the party, and it looked like she might be open to working at his club. "Five black men waiting to fill you and listen to you scream with pleasure," Ashad told her, picking up the pace and moving one hand below the hem of her dress. Mary obligingly spread her legs to allow him to finger her while he talked. "You sit on his lap and pull out his cock and let him fuck you. Have you ever seen a black cock?" "Just in pictures," Mary said. Ashad stood by the bed. "Unzip me and suck it," he ordered and Mary did as she was told, unzipping his trousers and freeing what had to be a ten inch cock. She stared at it as if hypnotized, then leaned forward and took him inside her mouth. She moved her other hand to cup his balls and them moved it behind his ass to pull him into her even farther. Ashad continued to fondle her and Mary had to stop twice to moan loudly, before going back to work. Ashad let her continue for a few minutes, then pushed her back on the bed and pulled off her dress. Mary looked up at him while he stripped off his clothes, gently touching her nipples and licking her lips. When he was naked, Mary opened her legs wide and arched her hips up to meet him. Ashad was built like a weightlifter and he handled Mary like she was a rag doll, putting his hands under her hips and pulling her to him. She reached down to put him inside her, obviously turned on so much that any thought of protest was long gone. Ashad put the first few inches of his cock inside her and she started moving her hips to try to take more. "You want this?" Ashad asked her harshly. "You want to be fucked by a black cock?" "Oh yes, fuck me please," Mary groaned, trying to get more of him inside her. "You want to do this for me?" Ashad asked. "You want to come work at my club?" Mary looked up at him and smiled weakly. "Let's talk about it later when we're done," she said, a normal reaction for her in our marriage. Ashad was having none of it. "Fuck that," he said harshly, shocking her. "I need to hear it now. Come work for me and get this whenever you want. Or say no, and we're done right now." "Come on, Ashad, just fuck me and we can talk later," Mary repeated. Ashad teased her by slowly pumping in and out, never going more than an inch or two past inside her. I could see that he was stretching her even so, his thickness making her thrash around on the bed. "I don't know if I could do that," Mary said. "What if somebody I knew found out?" "Well, one person you know is going to find out and that's Ray," Ashad assured her. "Who knows, he might be one of your guests one night. Who cares if somebody finds out? You'll get the last laugh because you'll have enough money to buy and sell them. How much do you make in a year?" "Twenty thousand." Mary gasped as she reached down to try to get a grip on his hips. In truth, her business had never done much money and we lived mostly on my salary. Ashad laughed at her. "Twenty? Damn, woman, you could make that much in two weeks or less with the club." He thrust a bit forward. "Make up your mind, I haven't got all night." Mary was clearly weakening, but I thought she would try to get out of it. I was shocked she was fucking Ashad in the first place, but chalked it up to a little drinking and his charm. She looked up at him, then down at his cock buried in her pussy. "Okay, I'll do it," she said with a rush, "Just fuck me!" Ashad immediately thrust all ten inches inside her and Mary almost screamed with pleasure. Ashad hastily clamped a meaty hand over her mouth and began to fuck her in earnest, pounding her down into the mattress and making the bed squeak with his efforts. Mary twisted and thrashed under him like a wild woman, making sounds of pleasure through the hand covering her mouth. The slapping sound of two bodies coming together was so loud that I wondered if they could hear it over the sound of the party upstairs. Freelancing Finally, after about ten minutes, Ashad stiffened and his ass muscles clenched as he emptied himself inside Mary. She had her legs wrapped tightly around him pulling him closer and she arched her back to meet him, sweat pouring from her body. Ashad gave a few more thrusts, and then collapsed on top of her. Mary continued to move her body, obviously still aroused. "Finish me off," Mary pleaded. "I still need to cum." Ashad smiled. "That's perfect. You need this, you just haven't ever admitted it to yourself." Mary tried to push herself against Ashad, but he had already pulled out, leaving a trail of cum on her leg. "But I'm not done," she complained. "Damn right you're not done," Ashad said harshly. "You work for me now and you're not done until I tell you so. Just stay there, you'll be taken care of." "What do you mean?" Mary asked. Ashad was using the edge of the bedspread to wipe himself clean, and then began to dress. "I mean there's no time like the present to start you off on your new job. You stay there and I'll send down your first client." Mary started to get up and Ashad shoved her back on the bed so that she bounced up and down a few times. She was looking at him strangely, not scared but with curiosity. I think she knew where this was going. "Who is my first client?" she said in a small voice. Ashad smiled. "Who else? Ray. After all, I owe him one, don't I?" Mary didn't say anything and Ashad continued to dress. "Any objections?" he asked. Mary shook her head and I could see that she was beginning to show signs of arousal again. Her breathing was faster and her nipples had gotten hard again. Somehow the idea of fucking somebody she knew was turning her on and she was ready for another man. "What about my husband?" she asked. "What if he wonders where I am?" Ashad shrugged. "You tell him what you want when you go back upstairs. It's a pretty big party, you could probably say you were in another room or something. You going to tell your husband you fucked me and his friend both tonight?" Mary shook her head. "Not right away. Maybe later." "How you going to explain your new job?" "How many nights do you want me?" "You're a special hostess, just for the really high rollers," Ashad told her. "The ones who want a special something. Getting a married white women is a turn-on for some of my clients, so you'll always wear your ring. Probably need you four, maybe five times a month." "How late?" Ashad shrugged. "Hell, you could be back in your home by ten or eleven." Mary said, "The I'll just tell him I'm working late or have meetings those nights. I'll work it out." Ashad reached forward to stroke her clit with his fingers and Mary fell back to the bed with a gasp of pleasure. He smiled and increased the movement. "You want me to finish this now?" he teased. Mary shook her head and looked up at him. "No, send Ray down," she said.