A hand delivered letter was waiting for me when I got home on the day the company broke up for the annual summer holiday. “I don’t believe this shit,” I looked again, but I’d read it right, I’d been made redundant.
Without speaking I handed it to Wendy my wife. “Oh for God’s sake,” she raged, “The bastards, the absolute bloody bastards.”
“Everyone’s out,” I said, “They’ve shut the bloody place down.”
“The house,” she gasped, “We’ll lose the house.”
“Oh fuck.” I poured myself out a drink and took it into the rear garden to think about it.
I was fifty-five while the lovely Wendy was just thirty, we had what we both considered to be the perfect marriage, it was one that many people would have considered to be immoral, but it suited us and that was all that mattered to us.
We were swingers, but also we had an open marriage, in other words, we’d both, over the years, had other lovers.
Wendy had a far higher sex drive than me, but it had never been an issue between us, we still loved each other with a passion and an intensity that was almost frightening at times.
She came out to sit beside me on the low wall overlooking the garden, we both loved this house and I knew what she was going to say even before she said it. “I know what we can do,” she said with her head on my shoulder.
“I thought you had a date tonight?”
“I did, I cancelled it.”
“You shouldn’t have.”’
“Well I have.” Her voice rose, “I happen to be very much in love with you, you muppet.”
“I’m going to do the escort thing.”
“Talk me through it.”
“Well, I’ve already rung Don and Jane and I asked them to come over so Don can take some photos of me, tasteful ones and just a few sexy ones, I’ll work on a web page, put an advert online, and Bob’s your uncle.”
“How much are you going to charge?”
“£250 an hour.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of money.”
“Not really,” Wendy smiled, “Do you remember Nicole?”
“Oh yes,” I grinned, “I remember Nicole.”
Nicole had been one of our swinging friends who’d joined us in our bed at a hotel one night.
“I thought you might,” she laughed, “Well she was telling me that the agency she worked for charged £350 an hour, but they took a cut; I think my rates will be quite fair at £250.”
“And what do they get for that?”
“They get my company, the company of a beautiful and intelligent young woman.”
“What happens if they want sex?”
“That’ll have to be open to negotiation, but I think £500 for just sex or £1,500 for all night.”
“And do people really pay that sort of money?” I asked.
“They certainly do,” she said laughing; “You’d pay that much for me wouldn’t you?”
“Of course I would darling,” I replied trying to keep a straight face.
Then we heard the throaty roar of Don’s car pulling up outside, so we went round the front to greet them.
Don and his sexy little wife Jane, were old friends of ours, one might almost say intimate friends, we’d enjoyed their company many times, in and out of bed and they were genuinely nice people.
“So you’re actually going for it?” Jane laughed and kissed us both.
“Yes I am,” Wendy smiled, “Say hello to the owner and sole employee of Kensington Escorts.”
Jane helped Wendy with her make up and hair over the next hour while Don and I had a couple of drinks and roundly cursed my ex employers, then my wife announced she was ready for the photos.
Don took about twenty of her in various outfits, then about half a dozen in her underwear and finally a few of her and Jane being extremely rude with each other.
“In case a client wants two girls,” she explained and I gulped, the thought of paying out £500 an hour just for dinner was too much for me to cope with.
Then we went over her advertisement together, four heads being better than one,
“Wendy can I suggest that if anyone answers the ad using foul language, you don’t answer it? I think it’s doubtful that they’d be very respectful to you in the flesh.”
“Good point Jane,” I said and Wendy agreed. “Yes, a very good point Jane.”
We adjourned then to the pub for a well earned drink before calling it a night.
“I’ve had an answer,” Wendy shouted excitedly, “Look David.”
It was from a German business man who was coming to London the following day for a business meeting, he was wondering if Wendy would accompany him for drinks and dinner afterwards.
He said that her fees were very reasonable and apologised for the short notice; would she kindly get back to him as soon as possible?
She did it immediately, saying she’d be pleased to accompany him as requested and we went to bed.
She woke me in the morning by plonking her pretty little bottom down on the bed and informing me that we were going shopping for a new dress.
“I don’t want a new dress, my old one’s fine.” I whined, but she was having none of it and I gave up.
The German gentleman had texted to say he would send a car to pick her up at 18:30 and take her to the Dorchester in Mayfair.
“The Dorchester?”
“Yes,” she laughed, “It’s a little bed and breakfast place in Mayfair.”
“Yeah,” I grinned, “I think I’ve heard of it.”
A shopping trip was on the agenda then of course, she didn’t buy an elephant, but she certainly bought everything else!
“Do you realise we’ve spent almost £1,000?”
“Think of it as an investment, sweetheart,” she laughed and rubbed my thigh, “Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”
On returning home I drew her a bath and she gave me the pleasurable task of shaving her sweet little pussy whilst waiting for the bath to fill up.
“You look like a little girl,” I commented and she giggled,
“Pervert.”
I had to test the smoothness of course with my tongue, an onerous task which I fulfilled to the best of my ability before leaving her to wallow in her perfumed water.
“Well, how do I look?” I turned to see a princess, the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, she’d done her hair up in the pixie style to frame her face like a picture, her make-up was perfect, if a little under stated, but it was her dress that caught my eye.
It was a deep shade of red, almost scarlet, almost, but not quite sheer, two spaghetti straps held it up over her fantastic cleavage and at the back, well, there wasn’t one!
“You’re stunning my darling,” I said and I meant it, she was.
“Do you think he’ll like me?” she asked nervously.
“If he doesn’t, he’s queer,” I smiled, “You’re gorgeous.”
“I’m wearing hold ups underneath,” she informed me, “And a little black thong.”
A car horn outside told us her lift had arrived, she air kissed me and left and so began the longest night of my life.
It was just before eight when I received the first text, it read; “Hotel gorgeous, having a few drinks before dinner, he’s nice, text you later.
I poured myself a drink and took it outside to enjoy the warm evening air and think about my lovely wife with another man, sharing a meal, laughing, dancing even.
Those of you who have shared a wife will know the feeling, I can only describe it as delicious agony.
The next text arrived just after eleven; “Going up to his room, staying the night, I love you, xxx.”
I wandered about the house locking up and stumbled drunkenly into bed at about midnight, I was asleep even before my head hit the pillow.
A warm body woke me slipping into bed beside me the next morning, I felt the hard points of her nipples against my back and her hand slid down to grip my morning erection.
“Did you miss me?” she whispered and snaked her tongue into my ear.
“No,” I mumbled and tried to ignore the hand doing wonderful things to my cock.
“Liar.”
I turned to face her, even after what I presumed had been a night of rampant sex, she was still beautiful.
“You’re naked.”
“Yes,” she giggled, “I was like that under my dress when I came home.”
“Hussy.”
“That’s me, but now I want my man to make love to me.”
“As in sloppy seconds?”
“No, you fool, I had a shower and now I want my man inside me.”
I rolled on top of her and she sighed as she wrapped her legs around my back.
“Slowly David,” she breathed, “Shag me nice and slowly.”
“Did you…?”
“Yes we had sex, three times actually, it was nice, he was a nice man.”
“Did he undress you?”
“Yes and he loved the stockings, he liked feeling them on his shoulders while he was eating me.
“Did he make you cum?”
“Ooh, yes, three times.”
“You’re a horny little bitch aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she laughed, “And the three grand in my bag helped too.”
“Three grand?”
“Mmm, now shut up and fuck me.”
