0 comments/ 80622 views/ 1 favorites The Professional By: Just Plain Bill Less than two minutes after they began, Kevin was already on the verge, his body tensing. Then, as it had been since Elaine could remember, it was over; far too soon for her to derive any pleasure. Though she clung tenaciously to her husband, he paused only briefly before withdrawing and extracting himself from their enfolding embrace. Then, as was his custom, he rolled over and was fast asleep within five minutes. As she frequently did at such times, Elaine lay awake contemplating her life. Though she loved Kevin, her thoughts at these times often drifted to other men with whom she was acquainted or had seen at various functions - men who might be capable of bringing her the kind of joy she had heard other women have. Is it my fault? On this night, as on so many previous nights, that thought plagued her. At other times, she would conclude that women aren't meant to enjoy sex in the same way men do. Elaine had heard that some women pleasure themselves. Her next door neighbor, Sue Jenkins, had admitted that she did - Sue's husband being about as thoughtless and inept in bed as Elaine's. Girls Elaine knew in high school used to joke about it. But her mother had told her many times that masturbation was evil and that she should never engage in such a sinful pursuit. So, Elaine hadn't. She and Kevin met, and began dating, in their final year of college. Being from a stern conservative family, which didn't believe in sex before marriage, Elaine remained a virgin until her wedding night. Elaine and Kevin were married in a large ceremony only a few weeks after graduation with both families and many fiends from college in attendance. It was a grand affair and everyone, including the bride and groom had a wonderful time. The wedding night was different. Kevin was ready and eager to stake his claim and Elaine, though scared, looked forward to her first sexual experience. With only the briefest of preliminaries, Kevin plunged in, braking the barrier that marks virgins. Once that impediment was removed, he began pumping away as if his new wife were one of the whores he had visited since he was eighteen, especially during the past year when Elaine refused to give in to him. "I'm finally able to fuck you," he exclaimed as continued thrusting. In less than a minute, he was spent and his seed was planted in his new bride. Elaine was too shocked by her new husband's hurried approach to reply or to derive any pleasure from their first sexual meeting. Two weeks later, she found she was pregnant. Thus there would be little opportunity for the two to become accustomed to married life before the chores of taking care of a child would be upon them. And so it went over the next sixteen years. Two more children arrived, but Kevin's approach to love making remained unchanged. As her husband snored next to her, Elaine thoughts again turned to what it would be like to be with another man, a man who could please her. Though aware that such thoughts were sinful and could put her marriage in jeopardy, they nevertheless crowded her mind especially at these times she lay staring at the darkened ceiling while her spent husband slept peacefully beside her. The only way Elaine had devised to combat these visions of other lovers, was to force her mind to concentrate on mundane matters such as what needed to done the next day or how the kids were doing at school. Sex just isn't that important, she would tell herself. A woman's lot is to maintain a nice home and raise the children. Sexual satisfaction is a male prerogative. But more and more, in recent years, she began to question that premise. Books and magazines she read, and other women she talked to, began to convince her that she was being cheated out of something which was her due. Lovemaking with Kevin should be as rewarding to me as it is to him, at least once in a while, she decided. Perhaps if he could only last a little longer, or do something to get me more excited, like I've read in those women's magazines, maybe it would be different. He always seems to be in such a hurry, as if he has something else on his mind. At times when her thoughts would turn to what she had come to conclude should be her right, her hand would involuntarily slip down to sample the wetness between her legs, and graze that little bud that felt so good when she touched it. Then her mother's words regarding self-pleasuring would come thundering back, and she would quickly yank her arm away. Elaine's conviction, that greater satisfaction could only come from her husband, which had prevailed during the first years of marriage began to wane a few years ago. By now, it had eroded completely. The change began at first ever so slowly and only through fantasies. As she encountered good looking men while shopping or at the library, she would wonder what it would be like to have one of these strangers lying between her legs. Then there was that tall dark mechanic at the garage where they had their car serviced. Jack, was his name. Elaine, sometimes contemplated what it would he like to have Jack service, her as he did their car. Would he be as capable of making my body hum, as he does our car's motor? Maybe a quick fling with Jack, would tell me if I'm capable of enjoying sex. Elaine didn't desire an on-going affair. Her family was too important to her for that. She merely wanted to know if she could enjoy the ecstasy she had read and heard about. And maybe, she might be able to learn what turns her on, and perhaps be able to guide Kevin so he could learn the secret as well. Jack might be just the answer, she mused. He certainly gets my juices flowing whenever I see him. And, there wouldn't be any continuing involvement with him, But then, she thought, how awkward it would be when she had to take the car back in for service afterward. She concluded such an experience would be too embarrassing. No, it can't be Jack, Elaine finally convinced herself. But maybe, someone else - just once. I have to find out! One day not long after her latest fantasy about Jack, her next door neighbor, Sue Jenkins came over for lunch. It wasn't long before the conversations turned to each other's love life. "Elaine," Sue began. "I've got to tell you, I finally did it." "Did what?" Elaine replied. "You already told me you mast... I can't even say the word, but you know what I mean." "Oh sure. I've been doing that for years, sometimes with a vibrator or a dildo." "A dildo? What on Earth is that?" "A fake penis, dummy," Sue explained noting Elaine's shocked expression. "They're made of plastic or rubber and come in all shapes and sizes. But, that's not what I'm trying to tell you. I finally took a lover. Actually, he's a professional." "A professional? I know women did that but, men?" "Sure." "But, where, how did you find him?" "Would you believe in the yellow pages?" "The yellow pages? How are they listed, under 'G' for 'gigolo'?" "No, but you're on the right track. Actually under 'E' for 'Escort Services.'" "You mean, right in the regular phone book?" "I mean exactly that!" Elaine retrieved the yellow pages from a drawer in the kitchen cabinet and opened them to the 'E's. "Let's see what's listed here," she said with a snicker. "My gosh, you're right. There are at least a half dozen escort services listed. Do they really mean that?" "You bet your bippy, they do." "But, it looks to me as if they're aiming the ads at men." "Of course, most of them are, but some say, 'Male and female escorts available.' I'll tell you what I'll do. I don't mind sharing him. After all, I'm sharing Bob with plenty of other women already." "Bob?" "Yes, he works for the Always Ready Escort Service. His full name is Bob O'Maley. See, there's their ad right there." Elaine scanned the ad for the Always Ready Escort Service, which clearly noted the availability of both male and female escorts. "Bob also works in the daytime for an appliance repair outfit," Sue added. "Let's see, which one is it? Oh yes, ABC Appliance Repair. So you can get a chance to look over the merchandise, right in your own home, before you decide to buy. Actually, you'd only be renting." "What do ya mean? How would I be able to look him over?" "You could fake an appliance being on the fritz, say your washer. Then, call ABC and tell them you want Robert O'Maley. Just say a neighbor was very satisfied with his work. That's certainly true. The man can last what seems like an hour before pouring his cum into me. In the meantime, I've had four or five fantastic orgasms. When Bob arrives to fix your washer, you can look him over and decide what you want to do. But, I can tell you, he's gorgeous! He's about thirty and six-three, with wavy blond hair and piercing blue eyes. And, he's got the biggest cock I've ever seen on a man." "Damn you, Sue. You've got me all excited. I know I shouldn't do it, but still, I guess it won't hurt to at least see what he looks like. But, I probably won't go through with doing anything else." "I think, once you see him, you'll have to follow up. You deserve a good time once in a while. And Bob is more than capable of giving a girl a glorious time. Your husband isn't giving it to you, so desperate measures are called for." "But even if I did decide to call this appliance place and ask for this guy, Robert O'Maley, none of my appliances are broken. He would immediately think something was fishy." "So what if he does? But, there's a simple way around that. Washers are the easiest to sabotage. So, let's make it your washer. All we have to do is get a knife and get under the thing and cut one of the belts. Then, like I say, you call ABC and ask for Bob by name. It may take a day or two, but, I assure you, he's worth the wait. Once you see him, it'll be all you can do to keep from jumping him right on the laundry room floor! Believe me." "Oh, Sue you're terrible, but you've got me all curious. Here's a knife, let's get to work." Sabotage of the washer complete, Elaine called ABC Appliance Repair before she lost her nerve, and asked specifically for Robert O'Maley. "He fixed one of my neighbor's washer," she lied, "and she recommended him highly." She didn't lie about that. Then, she turned to Sue and said, "Ali a ta est." "What the hell does that mean?" "It's Latin and it means, 'The die is cast.' Oh, Sue, I almost feel like I'm already being unfaithful to Kevin." "Elaine, listen to me. If he was as faithful to you as he should be, he'd see to it that he satisfies you in bed, and you wouldn't even be thinking of being with anyone else. Believe me. I know what I'm talking about. I've been there too, you know. Hey, I've got to get going. I've got to get dinner ready for Henry. It's been a great afternoon. I can't wait to hear what you think of Bob. Call me once he's been here. Promise?" "Okay, I'll let you know what I think after I've seen him. But I'm not saying I'll ever call him for..." "I think after you see him, you will. But, that's up to you. See ya." The following morning about ten, the doorbell rang. Elaine went to answer it and was bowled over by the man standing before her. He was tall, blond and had the most intense blue eyes she'd ever seen, just as her neighbor had said. Even through his loose fitting dark blue uniform with "ABC Appliance Service" embroidered on the pocket, it was apparent his body was all muscle and in perfect male proportions. His shoulders were broad and his waist narrow. Elaine was so stunned by the sight that she almost forgot to let him in. He was simply too gorgeous to imagine. She couldn't help wondering if that one vital piece of male anatomy, hidden from her view, was as impressive as the rest of this big hunk of man - then recalled what Sue had said regarding it. Maybe I'll have to find out for myself. For what seemed like an eternity, she stood in the doorway, gawking. Finally, she collected her wits and invited the man in and showed him to the laundry room and the "ailing" washer. She didn't know whether to stand there and watch Bob work or to leave him alone. She could feel her juices flowing already and was afraid his nostrils might pick up the unmistakable scent of female arousal, so she decided to go read a book in the living room and try to cool down. Perhaps twenty minutes elapsed when the man called to her,"Okay ma'am. All done." "That was quick. What was the problem?" Elaine asked returning to the laundry room. "Just a broken belt. If I didn't know better, I'd say it'd been cut." "Cut?" Elaine responded hesitantly. "Yeah. They go like that sometimes. Luckily, I had a new one in my tool box. I checked over a few other things. It shouldn't give you any more trouble for a while." Elaine thought she wouldn't mind having him check her over. "What do I owe you?" "Fifty dollars. Forty for the service call and ten for the part." Hum, Sue was right. I'd give him twice that for a service call any time, but not to mess with my washing machine. "Okay, I'll get my checkbook." Elaine went into the small study and wrote a check for fifty Dollars, and quickly handed it to the man before she did something rash. She could tell her panties were soaked, and wondered if he had detected her arousal. She noticed a slight bulge between his legs and speculated to herself that he might be becoming aroused as well. Or maybe his organ is so large in it's natural condition, it just looks like it's hard, she thought. "That's a good old washer, ma'am. They don't make 'em as good these days. You're lucky to have it." I'd like to have you! God, if he doesn't hurry up and leave, I'm going to reach for that bulge and check it out. "Well," he hesitated, she didn't know why. There seemed to be some unfinished business between them. "Oh, you told the dispatcher you had a neighbor who liked my work and that's why you asked for me. Who was that, ma'am?" Elaine didn't know to respond. If I tell him it was Sue Jenkins, he'll know immediately why I asked for him, she thought, then wondered if that might not be the best approach. Get it right out in the open. Lay my cards on the table, as it were - then chastised herself for thinking of "lay." "Oh, I think is was Mrs. Bartley, over in the next block." She made up a name on the spot. "Yes, that's who it was, Shirley Bartley." "I don't remember a Mrs. Bartley. But I see a lot of ladies." I'll bet you do! "Well, if that's all you need from me ma'am, I'd better be getting on to my next job." Elaine wondered if his next job was another washer, or some more personal type of "service." Little does he know what I need from him. Or, maybe he does. "No," she hesitated. "That's all for now, I guess." "In that case, so long, ma'am. If you have any further need of service, always remember to ask for Bob. Here's my card, so you won't forget." Elaine knew she could never forget anyone as gorgeous as Bob O'Maley. "You can be sure I'll do that, Bob. Thank you." "Goodby, ma'am." With that, he was out the door, and Elaine's fidelity to her husband was still in tact. How much longer it would be, she was uncertain. Thank God he's gone. That was a close call. I almost... Elaine gasped as she closed the front door, contemplating what she might have done if this gorgeous man had remained in her house just one more minute! Peering through the front window, she observed him as he was getting into his truck. He had a strange, somewhat perplexed, look on his face. It wasn't until after he had driven off that she examined the card he'd left. It read: -------------------------------------------------- ALWAYS READY ESCORT SERVICE Both male and female escorts available for ALL types of occasions Our SERVICE is always confidential. Robert O'Maley Personal Services Specialist 555-6969 ------------------------------------------------------ Elaine wondered whether Bob had left the wrong card by mistake, and, after some thought, decided he'd known exactly what he was doing. With some feeling of shame, she put the card in her dresser drawer, under her lingerie, where Kevin or the kids wouldn't come across it. Then, as promised, she called her neighbor to tell her of Bob's visit. "What did you think? Isn't he as gorgeous as I said? And, I'm sure you didn't get a look at the most gorgeous part of him. Or, did you?" "No, of course not. But, I must admit, he is a very attractive man." "And capable too. Remember what I said about those hour-long trips to heaven." "I still don't know. It's a big step," Elaine said as they ended their conversation. When Kevin arrived home that evening, he asked Elaine, as he usually did, how her day had gone. "Oh, uneventful, except the washer quit and I had to get it repaired." "How much did that cost?" "Only fifty Dollars. Bob said it was just a belt and he had a replacement with him." She had blurted out the man's given name without thinking. "Bob eh? You must have struck up quite a friendship." "Oh, he was very pleasant," Elaine responded. She was getting excited just thinking about Bob O'Maley and how close she had come to taking him to their bed. "He said it's a fine old washer and that they don't make 'em like that anymore." They don't make many like Bob either, Elaine thought as she felt her panties becoming wetter. "Kev, why don't we try to get to bed early tonight, once supper is out of the way," Elaine suggested provocatively. "Sorry. Can't. I brought a pile of work home from the office. I'll probably be up till one or later." At Kevin's rebuff, Elaine's face fell and she thought again about what it would be like to have Bob's reportedly prodigious manhood plunging into to her. She went to the bedroom and extracted Bob's card from her lingerie drawer. The kids were at summer camp, so she didn't have to worry about them. Going back downstairs, she looked in on Kevin in the study. He was already deep in work with papers strewn across the top of his desk. "Kev, if you're going to work all evening, I'm going to call Sue, next door, and see if she'll go to a movie with me. I don't feel like sitting around be myself." "Whatever," her husband mumbled without looking up. "Suit yourself." "I'll just do that," Elaine said under her breath as she made her way to the kitchen phone to dial the number on Bob's card. "Always Ready Escort Service," a female voice answered. Elaine was hoping Bob would answer, then concluded that was unlikely. I'm, I'm looking for Robert O'Maley. Is he in?" Then, she realized what a dumb question that was, as she pictured a room full of men sitting in a row waiting for calls. "No, he's not at this location, the voice on the other end said. Let me check his availability. Just a moment." About thirty seconds later, the voice said, "Bob is available this evening. If you'll give me your number, I can have him call you." "Oh, no," Elaine gasped, picturing Kevin answering the phone in his study and hearing a man ask for her. "Is there a way I can call him?" "No, we don't give out the numbers of our service providers, but I can forward your call to Mr. O"Maley if you like." "Yes, please do." Elaine waited as she heard various clicks and tones. A few seconds later, she heard: "Bob O'Maley speaking. I'm at your service." Elaine swallowed hard. "This, this is... This is Mrs. Adams, Elaine Adams. You were at my house today and fixed my washer." "Yes, I remember, Elaine - the belt." It almost sounded as if he knew that she had cut the belt. And his immediate use of her first name, told her that he knew why she was calling. The Professional I may be the only person in the world that's in my line of work. I don't think too many people would even consider doing what I do. Most people would probably be shocked that there is even a market for someone in my line of work, but the market is there. In fact I'm usually pretty busy and I make a very good living at what I do. What is my job? What do I do for a living? I'm a professional rapist. That's right; I get paid to rape women. Right now a lot of you are probably shocked, horrified...maybe even disgusted that someone like me exists, but I assure you things are not what you think. On the surface a man accepting money to rape a woman is a terrible thing. There are several crimes involved. Obviously rape is the most significant crime involved, but I'm also technically a prostitute as I am accepting money for sex. To rape someone you have to physically control them which sometimes means using a lot of force so assault also comes into play. To top it off I usually work in the woman's home so unlawful entry or breaking and entering could be tacked on to the list of criminal charges. Some of you are no doubt wondering about what kind of man I am...what kind of man would accept money to rape women? Others are probably wondering what kind of sick person would pay a man to rape women. The answer to the first question is that I'm an engineer with Masters Degrees in Electrical and Mechanical Engineering. I have a big house in a nice neighborhood, I own 2 pickup trucks, an SUV, and 3 classic muscle cars, I have friends over for parties all the time, and I own my own company which gives me the ability to travel for my other job. The answer to the second question could be even more shocking than the thought of me raping women for money. I am paid to rape women by their husbands. Yeah, that's right; men pay me to rape their wives. Why would a man pay me to rape his wife? It's not because he's insane, it's not because he's some kind of sick pervert, and it's not done as some kind of revenge. Men pay me to rape their wives because it's what their wife wants. You're probably thinking to yourself that no woman would ever want to be raped, and in part you're right. Most women are terrified at the thought of being raped. However there are a surprising number of women out there that have a rape fantasy. People have all sorts of sexual fantasies and fetishes. Some people like bondage, some people like getting peed on, some people like roll playing, and some women have a rape fantasy. A married couple can fulfill a lot of their sexual fantasies together. If you're into bondage you can tie each other up. If you like getting peed on your spouse can piss all over you. If you're into roll playing you can dress up and pretend to be anyone you want. The rape fantasy however isn't something that a man can fulfill for his wife on his own. A man can put on a mask, take his wife by surprise, and force himself on her, but most wives would know it's their husband so the fear wouldn't be there. The rape fantasy is all about fear and a feeling of helplessness...that's not something that most men can provide for their wives. That's where I come in. A man can hire me to rape his wife and since she has no idea who I am she will experience the fear and the feeling of helplessness as I force myself on her. The husband gets to give his wife her fantasy, but he does it in a safe way. It's a risky business that I'm in. Just because the wife has a rape fantasy doesn't mean that she's exactly going to be happy once I'm done and tell her that her husband had hired me. There's always a risk that a woman will call the cops as soon as I let her go. With that in mind I have to be very careful about which jobs I take. When a man contacts me inquiring about hiring me I tell him that I have to have video or audio of his wife talking about her rape fantasy. It has to be a fantasy she has and not one that her husband has and she doesn't. I don't do what I do for the husbands; I do it for the wives so if it's not something she really fantasizes about I won't take the job. Even after I get confirmation that the woman does have a rape fantasy I require more information. I need to get a reasonable understanding of her personality so I can decide whether or not I think she'd call the cops on me. After all it's my ass on the line if she does. It usually takes me a month to evaluate whether or not to take a job. I have to be pretty certain that the woman actually has a rape fantasy and that she won't call the cops on me once her husband and I explain what happened. I've been doing this for long enough now that I'm pretty good at gauging how a woman will handle things so if I take a job I'm pretty sure things will turn out okay. I've also been at this long enough to have a pretty much fool proof routine for how to do it. First off I typically do it in the couple's home, which means that any kids have to be out of the house. Secondly I arrange with the husband for him to "slip out" of the house just as his wife is getting in the shower. I'm parked down the street so seeing him leave is my signal to go in. Depending on the location I either go through the front door or through another entrance left open by the husband so that I can enter the house without being noticed. I make my way quietly to the bathroom where the woman is either getting ready to shower, is in the shower, or is just getting out of the shower. I prefer to get her while she's in the shower because the sound of the water helps keep her from hearing me approach, and it helps cover any screams that she may get out before I get a hold of her. The shower is also convenient for me because she'll already be naked, which saves me the trouble of having to strip clothes off of a woman that's fighting against me. Typically at right about the same time that I'm making my move on the wife the husband is coming back into the house. Some of the husbands want to watch as I rape their wife just to be sure that I'm not being rougher with her than I need to be. Of course they have to stay out of her sight or things will go to hell. The husband also needs to be close at hand so that when I'm done he and I can tell his wife that it was a set up so that she could live out her rape fantasy and so that he can keep his wife from calling the cops on me. I always have a ball gag with me, and as soon as I have a good hold on the woman I put the ball gag in her mouth to muffle her screams. I try to be as gentle as I can when I drag her to the bed, but the women usually fight pretty hard so I do have to be somewhat forceful with them. I'm 6'1" and weigh 240 lbs and I work out all the time so I can easily over power most women. I typically push them down onto the bed at the edge so I can kind of stay standing. I have gotten good at holding a woman down on her bed with one hand while opening my pants and putting a condom on with the other hand. That's right...I'm a rapist that uses condoms. Now I don't mean to brag, but I am well endowed. My dick is 10 1/2 inches long and it's super thick; so when I push my cock into a woman she really knows that I'm there. I've found that if I kind of lean over the bed with my hands on the woman's shoulders I can drive my cock into her hard and fast while still preventing her from moving. It's amazing how a woman's state of mind can change when she's getting a good hard fucking from a nice big dick. Most of the women are crying, kicking, and screaming into the ball gag as I lean over them and push my cock into them for the first time. After about 5-10 minutes though they become noticeably confused. They're still scared about the situation they're in, but they're beginning also excited by the sensations they're getting while I fuck them. After about 20 minutes their muffled screams for help become moans of pleasure. That's also around the time that they have their first orgasm. The euphoric blissful state of that orgasm usually washes away any remaining resistance, and if the first orgasm doesn't the second or third one will. I've been doing this for a long time so I've worked to increase my stamina as much as possible so I can easily fuck a woman for an hour non stop. By the end of the first hour she's usually had between 3 and 5 orgasms; sometimes more depending on the woman. Also by the end of that first hour the woman is no longer kicking and trying to squirm her way free...they usually have their legs hooked around me pulling me into them. That's when I know I have them...that's when I know that there's almost no chance that she'll be calling the cops. After that moment has been reached I know I can stop at any time, but I rarely stop right away. I'm a rapist after all...why would I stop until I'm satisfied? I try to hold out as long as I can, but after more than an hour of continuous hard fucking it's not always easy to keep going. I typically slow my pace and lower my head to the woman's breasts. I typically last another 30-40 minutes before I need to cum and before I'm too exhausted to continue. When I do finally cum I slam my cock all the way into the woman. I cum a lot so even with the condom on the woman can usually feel me shooting. After what is typically an hour and a half of continuously fucking the woman I collapse down onto her with my full weight against her body. I always release on of her arms to gauge her reaction to everything once the pleasure stops. They typically go back to being a little nervous, but not as scared as they were before. I lift myself up off of the woman and while still holding her down I start to tell her who I am and what I'm doing there. I tell her that I'm a professional rapist that her husband had hired to help her live out her rape fantasy. That's when the husband enters. He's either been watching from a secluded spot where she couldn't see him or he's been waiting outside the room waiting for the signal. Most of the wives are confused at first when they see their husband standing beside the bed looking down on them as I am still on top of them holding them down. The husband explains things as best as he can, then he moves into position to restrain his wife if necessary so I can get up off of her and be on my way. The husband takes the ball gag off of his wife and gives it back to me before I leave. I leave as quickly as possible leaving the two of them to sort things out for themselves. I always do a follow up phone interview with the husband and often the wife as well a week or so afterwards. I want to be sure that the husband was happy with service that I provided, that he didn't think I was too rough or anything like that. I also want to hear from the husband, the wife, or both how they reacted to things after I left. Was the wife mad at the husband or me? Was the husband mad at himself or me? Did the wife actually enjoy living out her rape fantasy? Perhaps it's because I'm so careful in choosing who I work for, but every husband has been pleased and felt he got his money's worth, every wife was at least partially happy to have had her husband help her live out her rape fantasy, every wife has been very vocal about how incredible the sex was and how much pleasure I gave her, most of the couples have thanked me over the phone, and some have even invited me to visit them again for a much more friendly encounter. So far my judgment and my luck has held out and I've only taken jobs that turned out well. Some day I might take a job that goes bad and lands me in hot water, but until then I'm going to keep doing what I've been doing. I'm going to keep providing a service that there is a market for, but there aren't very many people in the business. I'm going to keep raping women for money. The Professional New Orleans, Louisiana Tuesday, August 23, 2005 Morning I was chilling on a lounger in Sherry's back yard. It was warm out, but it was early and the sun hadn't kicked in full force. By the time it did we'd be back inside, probably sexing each other some more. That was cool, but this was my first time in New Orleans and I'd hoped to see more of the city. But as soon as Sherry picked me up at the airport on Friday she'd only been about one thing: Sex. So the only part of New Orleans I'd seen was from the inside of her Bentley as we rode from the airport to her estate. Sherry has a nice place, courtesy of having had a better lawyer than her ex-husband in their bitter divorce war. From what she'd told me, this house had been in his family for three generations. She took it from him out of spite. She got the Bentley, a Maybach and a ton of cash, too. If you want to applaud her you can say that she didn't do too badly for a woman whose last job was as a waitress at Denny's when she was twenty years old. That was twenty years ago. I know all this because she told me. She brags incessantly about how she took her ex to the cleaners. Not that I cared or wanted to hear about her marriage. I was getting paid to fuck her. But listening to a woman's issues often comes with the job. Some women want to do more talking than fucking. I don't care; the pay is the same. I was sipping cranberry juice and watching Sherry swim laps in her in-ground pool. She was stroking like she was training for The Olympics. Her naked brown body cut the glimmering blue water like a shark. Not bad for a forty year-old sister. When she reached the near end of the pool she stopped and smiled at me and blew me a kiss. I gave her a "thumbs up" sign. She called out, "I bet that white bitch of his can't swim like this," and pushed off for more laps. I shook my head. Sherry's ex-husband's new wife was white, and that pissed her off to no end. My gut told me that during her divorce settlement she went after her ex-husband's family home because she wanted to have a hold on him, something that would lure him back to her. That's why three years after her divorce she was still talking about him non-stop. His remarrying must have killed her hope of reconciliation. And to marry a white chick? Sherry probably wanted to take him to court again so she could go after his liver and kidneys. And it's probably not a coincidence that the dude remarried two weeks ago, and last week Sherry hired me to come down and spend a week fucking her. I guess she wanted to show him, at least in her own heart. Sherry reached the far end of the pool and climbed out. Even from a distance her heart-shaped ass looked nice. I was lying there naked with my dick half hard. Seeing her booty pushed my desire up a notch, to about three-quarter strength. I watched her as she climbed up the diving platform ladder. Based on her swimming over the past few days, this meant she was about finished with her morning swim. She'd usually take a dive and do one more lap before calling it quits. She stood at the edge of the platform with her arms outstretched, looking like some kind of naked Nubian goddess under the morning sun. I took a look around. This mansion sat on five acres bordered by thick stands of trees. The odds were slim that anyone would see her out here naked, even though she was up high right now. I got the feeling that Sherry wouldn't give a damn if all of Louisiana could see her. She gathered herself and leaped high into the air with her arms outstretched like a graceful bird. As she descended she brought her arms down and her hands together like the tip of a spear. She hit the water perfectly, barely making a splash. I heard footsteps behind me and looked around. Sherry's housekeeper and cook had come out to the patio and was heading our way. She was a cute Creole sister in her twenties named Marcel. I took a quick moment to check out her nice legs and the shapely body that she kept hidden under a maid's uniform and apron, and then turned back to the pool. Sherry resurfaced in the middle of the pool and was swimming our way. As Marcel passed me she said, "Good morning sir." She spoke with a slight Cajun accent. As I looked at her she cut her eyes away quickly, apparently embarrassed at seeing me out here with nothing on. I said, "Good morning, Marcel," and checked out her body from the rear as she stepped to the pool. Three-quarters went to fully loaded. I noticed that Marcel held a cordless phone in her hand. As Sherry climbed out of the pool she said, "You have a call," and handed her the phone. Sherry walked away to have some privacy as she talked on the phone. I watched her as she walked naked toward the grass. The morning sun made the water droplets on her body glisten like she'd been sprinkled with a thousand tiny diamonds. Her skin looked like jewel-encrusted chocolate. Sexy. Marcel waited for Sherry to finish her call, making sure that she kept her back to me. I was tempted to say something to mess with her, but Sherry seemed like the very jealous type. She'd paid Asad for my services in advance. In thirty-two years in the game no woman had ever asked for her money back after receiving my services. I wasn't about to blow my record by playing games with the help, no matter how fine the help happened to be. Sherry finished her call and came back to us. I gaped at her bouncing titties as she walked, and at the swell of her hips and the way the droplets of pool water glistened in the trimmed patch of black hair over her pussy. She didn't seem to care in the least that Marcel was seeing us naked. "That was my daughter," Sherry explained. "She lives in Miami, which makes no sense because she's terrified of storms. There's some little tropical storm named Katrina or something in the Bahamas that might reach Florida, so she's flying up here tomorrow to wait it out. So while she's here I'll put you up in a hotel, Lucas. It shouldn't be for more than a day or so. I'm sure this will end up being nothing but a little rain in Florida for a day. Then she'll go back and I'll send for you." That was cool with me. A couple of days break from Sherry would give me a chance to check out New Orleans. I specifically wanted to see Bourbon Street. That place was supposed to be a non-stop party. And for some reason that name intrigued me even back when I was a little kid and used to watch a cop show called Bourbon Street Beat. I'd been all over the world in my life, for business and for pleasure. I could have come down at any time over the past decades to visit New Orleans, but just never got around to it. You know how the saying goes: Life is what happens while you're making other plans. Like five minutes earlier I thought I'd be spending the week in Sherry's house, and more specifically in her pussy. Now I had time to see the city. Life is always full of surprises. As Sherry handed the phone back to Marcel, Marcel said, "Breakfast will be ready in a half an hour, Miss Nichols." She was looking at Sherry and making sure that she kept her back to me. Maybe seeing her employer naked wasn't a new thing for her. That thought made some ideas pop into my head -- things I wouldn't mind seeing that had nothing to do with touring New Orleans. Sherry said, "Hold breakfast for an hour, please." Then she grinned over at me and said, "I need an appetizer before the main course." Sherry walked around Marcel to me. She grabbed a condom packet off the patio table next to the lounger and used her teeth to rip it open. Then she leaned over me and rolled the latex skin onto my dick. I looked around Sherry and caught Marcel sneaking a peek. Busted, she looked away in a hurry. Sherry was still dripping wet from the pool as she straddled me and sank down onto my hardness. Her pussy was wet, too. I gripped her hips and pushed up into her heat. She gripped the top of the lounger backrest and grunted, "Uh, damn!" Yeah, I know. Her titties were hanging right in front of my eyes, swaying as she slid up and down on me. Their heft caressed my face. Her nipples were still stiff from her swim in the cool water, and were inviting me to have a taste. As I started to lick and suck them I heard Marcel's crepe-soled footsteps fading back toward the house as she made herself scarce. I looked up at Sherry. "I think she was embarrassed," I said. "Marcel?" "Yes." "So what? I pay her very well to do her job and stay out of my business," Sherry repositioned herself over me, moving from her knees to squatting over me on her feet to get better leverage. Then she started riding me for real. Not bad for forty. "I bet that white bitch can't do him like this," she said. "I bet she can't -- hey!" Fuck this. I was tired of hearing about her ex and his white wife. I lifted Sherry up off me, spun her around and pushed her to her hands and knees. Then I got up and hit it from the back. I hit it hard enough so that the only things coming out of her mouth were moans and groans and "Yes daddy's." When I was done with Sherry I helped her stagger to the pool house where we showered and put on robes and went in to have breakfast. I made up my mind that the next time she opened her mouth about her ex and his new woman I was going to stick my dick in it. ---------- New Orleans, Louisiana The French Quarter Thursday, August 25, 2005 Afternoon I got back to my hotel suite in mid-afternoon, feeling good after my walk down Canal Street to Bourbon Street. It was hot and humid out and I was sweaty as hell, but I enjoyed the exercise. Too bad Bourbon Street was a disappointment. It wasn't at all what I'd envisioned. It was little more than a wide alley with a bunch of eateries and shops designed to relieve tourists of their money. Not much else was going on down there. Maybe things only jumped off during Mardi Gras. I checked out the local television news as I dried off after my shower, hoping to catch up on what the Yankees were doing. But the newscast started off with the meteorologist talking about that storm named Katrina, saying that it had passed over southern Florida as a Category 1 Hurricane. They'd originally projected that it was going to travel west into the Gulf of Mexico, but now it looked like it was hanging around the coast to kick Florida's ass some more. It looked like Sherry's daughter was right to get the hell out of Dodge. I'd checked into the hotel yesterday. I'd talked to Sherry once on the phone since then. But she understandably was busy spending time with her daughter. As long as I got paid I didn't care. As I was rubbing on lotion someone knocked on the door to my suite. I wrapped the towel around my waist and went to the door and checked the peephole. It was Marcel, Sherry's housekeeper. I wouldn't ordinarily open the door to someone when I was wearing just a towel, but it wasn't like Marcel hadn't already seen everything I had to offer. So I opened the door. I didn't know who looked more surprised, me or her. Marcel's eyes got wide as she scanned me up and down. I guess my eyes were just as big. This afternoon she had her hair down and was wearing lip gloss, and instead of her housekeeping gear, wore a pretty sundress and sandals. The upper part of her dress was a form-fitting knit tube that showed that she was nicely endowed up top. The bottom wasn't short enough to be a mini, but it showed off a hell of a lot more of her legs than when she was dressed for work. She looked as hot as the temperature outside. "Hey Marcel, what's up?" I asked. Marcel said, "Miss Nichols wanted me to let you know that due to the storm, her daughter will be staying longer than she'd thought. She sends her apologies and wants you to know that you will be paid in full." "Thanks," I said, "but she could've called. You didn't need to make a trip into the city." "She wanted to make sure that you were...taken care of during the rest of your stay." "Oh, is that right?" I smiled. "That's what she instructed," Marcel said. She looked a little nervous. We were still standing in my suite's open doorway. I studied Marcel closely. I know women, but I couldn't read yes or no in her eyes. So I had to ask. "Do you want to be here?" She swallowed her nervousness and said, "You should go back to New Jersey." "Oh." I took that as a definite no. "The storm, Lucas. It's going to be very dangerous. You should go home before it's too late to leave." I shook my head. "They just said that the storm is hanging around Florida." I tilted my chin into the suite in the direction of the sounds from the television like the weather man was in the bedroom waiting to back me up. "I spoke to my sister," Marcel said. "She's in college. She said that Katrina is coming here, and that we should leave." I looked back at Marcel. "Is your sister majoring in Meteorology?" "No. But she...sometimes she knows things." Okay, I didn't even want to go there. This was Louisiana. There was supposed to be all kinds of strange voodoo stuff going on down here. "Are you leaving?" I asked. "Yes. She and I are leaving tomorrow night to stay with family in North Carolina. You really need to go, Lucas." "Okay, I might. Thanks for the heads up, Marcel." "You're welcome." After a moment's hesitation she added, "And yes, I want to be here." Before I could say anything she stepped past me into the room. I turned to keep her in view, letting the door swing shut behind me. As she moved toward the bedroom she said, "May I use the shower?" She'd already sat down her purse and stepped out of her sandals. Now she was pushing the tube top part of her dress down around her hips. For a moment the vision of Marcel's flawlessly smooth back tapering down to her trim waist took away my ability to speak. I followed her into the suite's bedroom. In the bedroom she stopped and turned around as her dress dropped down around her ankles. Damn. Full, firm titties that for some reason made me think of peaches and cream. Round hips decorated with the string of her thong. And yep, just like I thought... perfect legs. "Be my guest," I managed to say. Marcel turned away again and peeled her thong down off her round bottom. Now naked, she vanished into the bathroom, leaving me standing there with the front of my towel sticking straight out. I got rid of the towel and lay on the king-sized bed, watching the news as I waited for Marcel to come out of the shower. Some weather expert said that the hurricane had spawned tornadoes near the Florida cities of Kendall and Sunset, but that nobody had been killed. Marcel came out of the shower drying herself off. She left the bedroom and came back with her purse, from which she removed a bottle of something. I was too busy looking at her gorgeous nakedness to pay much attention. She sat the bottle on the nightstand and headed back for the bathroom. My eyes locked on her ass as she moved. My heart pounded and my dick throbbed. I can usually take it or leave it when it comes to getting a woman's booty. But Marcel's ass was calling to me. I could almost feel myself getting her back there. That wasn't supposed to happen. I'm always in control of my desire for women. But there was something about Marcel that was messing with me, making me feel a bit out of control. No woman had had that effect on me since I was a kid. It was bad for business not to be in control of myself. I took a deep breath to calm down, just as Marcel returned from the bathroom carrying a couple of hotel glasses. Marcel sat next to me on the bed. Her hip brushed my thigh. My dick jumped. Something inside of me stirred. I felt like I wanted to grab her and ravage her like an animal. Strange. She picked up the bottle. It was about the size of a salad dressing bottle and had a cork stopper. The liquid contents were dark red. She pulled out the cork, poured some and turned to me. "I think you'll like this," she smiled. She held the glass out to me. I looked at the bottle on the nightstand. It didn't have a label. Uh-uh. As if she'd read my mind Marcel said, "It's wine, homemade by my uncle. It's very good." I looked at her with a cocked eyebrow. Here I was in a strange city with a fine as hell young woman that I didn't know. She'd gotten naked in front of me as if it was no bigger a deal than scratching her nose, and now she was asking me to drink who knows what from an unlabeled bottle. Marcel shook her head at me as if I was being completely ridiculous. She raised the glass to her sexy lips. She drank half of the contents, and then handed the glass back to me. "You really should have some now," she said, "or you're going to be in trouble." "How so?" I asked, still not completely trusting. She leaned to me and gave me a slow, sweet kiss. My heart punched my lungs. If my dick had had a mouth you would have heard the growling in the next room. Marcel broke our kiss and said, "Trust me now and thank me later." Okay, she did drink it first. I took the glass from her and tried a sip. It wasn't bad -- kind of a fruity taste, maybe like plums, but not quite. When I'd finished it Marcel took the glass and poured more. Once again she downed half of it and gave me the rest. She watched me as I drank it down. Then she took the glass from me and put it on the nightstand. As she pushed me onto my back on the bed she said, "Sherry Nichols doesn't know anything about pleasing a man. That's why he left her. Je vais vous donner cette plaisir." I'd spent some time in Paris. I understood a little French. But my brain was a little fuzzy all of a sudden, and it took me a moment to understand what Marcel said. I will give you such pleasure. She did not lie. ---------- Marcel used her body on me -- all of her body to get me off. Her lips, and mouth and tongue. The heels of her hands, her palms, her fingers. Her feet and toes. In the end I came so hard that my ejaculation was like a shuttle launch. It sailed from the bed halfway across the room to splatter on the carpet. When I could breathe again I gasped, "Damn." Marcel giggled at my reaction. Then she looked at my manhood, which was acting like I hadn't just come. I was as hard as titanium, still. She gazed into my eyes as she lowered her face slowly to mine. She teased my lips with the tip of her tongue and cooed, "Come on, Mr. Professional. Show me. Professionalize me." I took Marcel into my arms. Our bodies came together and joined naturally, like two rivers converging to become one. We didn't fuck. We didn't make love. We just merged. Merging was sweet. That wine had my thoughts unfocused. I couldn't think about doing to Marcel the things I'd learned over the years. I couldn't demonstrate the skills I'd acquired. All I could do was be. I didn't know if it was the woman or the wine or both, but just being with her was as good as any I'd ever experienced. ---------- New Orleans, Louisiana The French Quarter Thursday, August 25, 2005 Evening We lay holding each other in the late evening gloom, kissing and talking about the city. "You have to go to Bourbon Street at night," Marcel said. "That's when it's fun. We can go tonight if you want. I'll call my sister and see if she wants to hang with us." All I wanted to do was stay in bed and sex Marcel some more. It was the strangest feeling; I was satisfied but I still wanted more of her. I didn't know how many times I'd come but I should have been done. But my dick was like a boxer who'd had his ass kicked and was on the canvas but struggling to get up to beat the count. It wanted to fight some more when the fight should have been over. "Was there something in that wine?" I asked. The Professional "It has all natural ingredients," Marcel said. "Only my uncle knows what they are. It was passed down to him from our family's generations." "Well, he could bottle that stuff and make a fortune." "It's not for profit, Lucas. Only pleasure." Her speaking the word pleasure got me going again. I leaned over her and tasted her sweet, tender lips. Her kiss flipped the switch and the fighter was back on his feet, ready to kick ass. I moved over Marcel. She opened her legs and gave me what I needed. We merged some more. ---------- Thursday, August 25, 2005 Bourbon Street Night "What's your major?" I asked Marcel's sister. I had to almost yell in her ear so that she could hear me over the noise. Marcel's sister, whose name was Auriel, leaned to me and said, "Education!" We were walking down Bourbon Street. Marcel was right. At night this didn't even look like the same street. The people were crowded on the sidewalk and on the street almost shoulder to shoulder. No way in hell could a car get down here. The police moved through the crowd on horseback. Music seemed to be coming from everywhere. On one part of a block you might hear rock music. A few steps down the street you heard R&B, or jazz, or Zydeco, the sound originated by Creoles. And then there were the aromas of food wafting from the various restaurants. Everything smelled absolutely delicious. I was walking with Marcel and her sister on either side of me. Auriel looked like a younger but taller version of her big sister. She was fine, too, but in an entirely different way. Marcel possessed the kind of beauty that would make a man say, "Damn, I want her." But this girl Auriel, she'd make many men say, "I have to have her." It wasn't just that she was beautiful. She had that vibe about her. "So you want to be a teacher?" I asked Auriel. She said, "Yes...I want to teach small children...to help them on the right path while they're young." I said, "Good for you." Marcel said, "Her problem is that she has no idea where she wants to teach. She can't make up her mind." I looked back to Auriel. "So you don't want to stay here in New Orleans?" We were in between the loudest areas of music now. Auriel stopped and looked at me. "The storm is telling me that New Orleans isn't the place for me to be," she said. "You mean that hurricane down in Florida?" Auriel nodded. I said, "But the weather people are predicting that tomorrow it's going to fizzle back down to a tropical storm." Auriel nodded. "Yes, and then it will come back, and it will come here. You should leave tomorrow, Lucas, before it's too late to get out." "I told him," Marcel said. Okay, these sisters were fine as hell, but they were a little off the edge of the road, too. "Where are you from?" Auriel asked me. "New Jersey -- a city on the coast called Long Branch." Auriel shivered like she'd caught a chill, even though the night was sweltering. "Are you okay?" I asked. "Yes...yes I'm fine," she said. Marcel looked at her little sister, hard. "Did you see something?" she asked. Auriel said, "La Branche longue sent intéresser." Marcel shook her head. "But that's so far away, Auriel." Auriel shrugged and walked on. We followed. The next music that filled the night was percussion...congas, bongos, other instruments I didn't recognize. A bunch of brothers who looked like they were from Africa were throwing down on their rhythm. Auriel began moving her sexy body to the beat, and turned around and smiled at her sister. Marcel threw up her hands and wiggled up to Auriel. They danced together with a familiarity that only sisters who'd spent their lives dancing together can know. Their moves reminded me of the dancers I'd seen at carnival in Brazil, but also of something one might see in Africa. Their bodies moved in sensuous, sexual motion, feminine movements that must have been created at the dawn of time for one purpose -- to lure; to entice. I looked around and saw that every man in the vicinity had stopped to watch. Marcel and Auriel moved their hips as if they were taking a lover. They moved with closed eyes and hands caressing themselves as if in a fever of passion. They danced and smiled together, sometimes so close that their bodies nearly touched. They gazed into each other's eyes as if the other was the object of their most erotic desires. Their faces drew closer...their lips almost touching. Auriel flicked out her tongue, licked her full, sensuous lips. Just a little closer... The crowd watched in hushed anticipation... And then the sisters danced away from each other, laughing the way they must have laughed when they were little girls. The spell was broken. The crowd moved on. ---------- We walked back to my hotel, where Auriel had left her car. After we'd said our "nice meeting you's" and then our goodbyes Auriel said to Marcel, "Our flight is at four-thirty. Don't forget, Marcel." Then she gave me a sly smile and said, "And don't let Lucas keep you here, no matter how good he is." I took Marcel back up to my suite. We finished off her uncle's wine and merged our bodies again. She was so amazing. I thought about having to leave Louisiana and going back to Jersey without her. Kidnapping did cross my mind. ---------- I fell asleep with Marcel wrapped in my arms. I dreamed of water. A lot of water. I woke up in the middle of the night, gasping. I took a flight out of New Orleans back to New Jersey the next day. ---------- Long Branch, New Jersey The Cutting Edge Salon Tuesday, August 30, 2005 Afternoon "I don't know why in the hell anybody would build a city at the bottom of a bowl with the damn ocean sitting at the rim," Freddie said. "To hell with a levee. They been asking for trouble since day one, if you ask me. Why the hell do you build a city at the bottom of a bowl?" I was sitting in Freddie's chair as he cut my hair. Everybody in the salon had their eyes glued to the television screen, looking at the devastation Hurricane Katrina had delivered to New Orleans. The city was underwater. Too many people had tried to evacuate too late. Hundreds were dead, maybe thousands. Nobody would know how many for weeks, maybe months, until everyone was accounted for, dead or alive. The talking heads on the news were already trying to figure out who was most to blame. I wondered about Sherry Nichols. I wondered if she'd had the good sense to leave her precious house and go to safety. No doubt her daughter would have tried to convince her to go. I'd been skeptical about Marcel's sister's prediction of how bad the storm was going to be when the so-called experts were saying otherwise. But that dream I had while I held Marcel in my arms convinced me to leave New Orleans. I'm not necessarily superstitious or a believer in signs, but that dream hit me hard. Maybe it was that wine. Or maybe it was because Marcel was so close to me that night...and she was Auriel's sister. I don't know. But we are descendants of Africa. Our ancestors believed in some strange things. They believed for a reason. Who am I to question? © 18 May 2009 The Black