The Price of Pussy

by

Tags: Ma/Fa, .

Desc: Romantic Story: What price Pussy? Our protagonist, a researcher, researches a way to put monetary value on sex and betrayal

I was in the dining room, my 'office'. When we leased the house, it came partially furnished, and the table could eassily seat eight, ten in a pinch. It was perfect for my haphazard filing system, and often you couldn't even see the table. When Cindy was offered a promotion, with a considerable pay raise if she located, I was all for it. Michigan winters were starting to wear on me.

She hated my job, for some undefined reason. I think the fact that it was actually a business, with me as owner, and the fact that I didn't have a commute, could eat breakfast and go to work in my underwear if I wanted, irritated her no end.

I was a researcher. Give me a subject and I would dig until I got as close to everything you could about the subject. I didn't do a lot of science or mathematics, because iIdidn't have the technical skill it needed, and I didn't like to do people, because it wasn't really research, it was a search for dirt.

Doing a favor for a friend while I was laid up with a broken leg started me off. When questioned by his company as to when he had time to do such an in depth report, he gave them my name. Soon I was doing work for that company, which led to another company, which led me to having to pick and choose assignments, because I didn't have time to do everything.

It paid very, very well. In fact, I made roughly three times what Cindy made, even after her promotion. She never knew it though, because after she made fun of me not being the main breadwinner, I stopped talking to her about what I did. I made sure I put as much as she did into the checking account, keeping the rest in a business account. She said she didn't care what I made, but my security cameras catch once every month or two, looking through my stuff. I treated it like a game, even once 'accidentally' leaving a password where she could find it. She logged on immediately, but I had filled the file with so much junk she gave up after a while.

Part of her promotion included a country club membership, and she insisted we attend events, mostly sponsored by her company, but some purely social. I thought I cleaned up pretty well, but it seemed it was never quite enough. It didn't take me long to realize it didin't matter what part of the country you were in, assholes are universal.

The guys bragged about how much better they were at everything than everybody else, in business, sexual conquests that included the wives ir their friends often, and sports. I grinned wwhen they talked about golf. Before taking one of the three academic scholarships I'd been offered as a high school senior, I'd had two more for golf.

The women bragged about how much their men made, their latest body enhancements, how the husbands of their friends ranked in size and skill as lovers. Cindy loved the whole scene. It bored me to tears, but I went when she wanted me to.

Then, three months ago, Cindy started changing. Skirts and dresses with higher hem lines replaced the pants she usually wore to work. Sensible shoes were replaced by heels. She cut her hair and changed the color. And she was short tempered and snappish, while our love life all but disappeared.

Talking to her resulted in slammed doors and sulking. Doing what I do best, I invested a little time, hired a couple of experts, and it led me to where I was today.

I heard the door slam, the clacking of her heels across the floor. I called out to her. "Cindy! I need you for just a minute, please."

She stood at the door, boredom all over her face. "What? I've got a business dinner in forty-five minutes, and I have to change."

"Ten minutes is all I ask. I need your opinion on something, from the point of view only a woman can provide. I'll even get you a consultancy fee."

Ah, money. She sat down.

"All right, I've got a client who's preparing a lawsuit. This research should help him quite a bit. It's about the price of pussy."

Her eyes grew wide and she started to say something but I stopped her. "Hear me out. I got my friend at the police department to provide an introduction to some hookers. I paid them, as a consultant, I didn't have sex with them. Three of them, ranging in age and looks. Seems blowjobs are the cheapest, followed by straight vaginal sex, and anal drawing premium prices. Again the price varied according to age and appearance. Plus, if there was role play or kink involved, the price went up considerably. Time also played a part, after all, thier pay is determined by turnover."

"Next, I hired two escorts, also as consultants. The interviews took three hours, and included dinner. I mean after all, escorts were meant to be seen, unlike hookers. Pretty expensive, even without sex. But there again, looks, wardrobe, the ability to excel in most social situations, they all have as much value as skill at sex."

"So I established a low end and high end baseline. What I need from you is a middle pespective. You're not a whore, and you're not an escort, but you are an attractive woman, so you're right in the middle."

All right, I flattered her a little to get her more responsive, but it was true, she was an attractive woman.

"So, if you had to, what would you say would be a fair price for oral, vaginal, and anal if you had to break it down? Would your price factor in time, role play, that sort of thing? Be honest here, I need solid information."

She smirked a little befor giving me her estimates. Well, well, she certainly had an inflated opinion of her worth, but I wasn't going to say so.

"Thanks, Cindy. Bear with me for just another minute or two while I collate this. All right, using your numbers, you're at your peak right now. We're both twenty-eight, and barring health factors, we can reasonable expect to stay sexually active for four decades, more or less. Right now, up until recently, we had sex four times a week. I got a blowjob, maybe once a month, and tapped that tight ass of yours about every three months. Now, as we age the frequency will probably go dowm, so let's drop one sex session every decade, that should be reasonable. By your own estimation, that would make you worth about a million two over time. That's a reall impressive number."

She actually glowed, so I burst her bubble a little.

"Now, as we age, libido and looks fade, children factor in, your value would naturally go down. If we factor in say, a sixty per cent drop, it still stays over half a million."

Curiosity got the better of her. "What's this research for?"

"Cindy, remember now, we live in North Carolina. They still have alienation of affections laws on the book. This research will factor heavily when the lover gets sued in the final monetary rewards. I hope it does, anyway."

She still didn't get it, and I had to explain the law. "In this state, if a married person embarks on an affair, or leaves the spouse for someone else, the offended party can sue. Up until now, it's been more or less a nuisance suit, mostly to embarrass the players. A case of the bitch broke my heart, and somebody needs to pay. But with this report, we can actually quantify the value of what the plantiff will be losing. Since almost all affairs are based on sex, we made pussy the determining factor. The price of pussy, defined. I've got a whole other report on the emotional impact, the damage to any children affected, damage to social standing, that sort of thing."

"Who's the report for?"

I looked at her and grinned. "Me. I intend to sue your lover. It will embarrass him and his family no end, and according to my lawyer, with this research we have a pretty good chance of actually getting something."

She did a pretty good fish imitation for about a minute before going on the attack. "Damn it! How many times do I have to tell you Jamison is just a friend. We've never..."

She went really quiet when I lay the pictures out. "You might as well stop lying now. I've got it all, for at least the last five weeks, on video. And Jamison. Really? His name is James. Did you know most of his old friends call him Jimmejam? Seems he wanted to be a rapper while he was in high school."

"Thaat's not true. Stop calling him that!"

"Jamison, Jamison, Jamison. Jimmiejam, Jimmiejam, Jimmiejam. Has a ring to it, doesn't it? Jimmiejam Jamison, Redneck Rapper. He could bust rhymes about getting drunk, huntin', fishin', FUCKING OTHER PEOPLE'S WIVES! Give it up, Cindy, you're caught, and no revisionist explanations are going to change the facts. We're through, girl, so give up any spin moves you may have rehearsed. The papers will be served on you and Jimmiejam by noon tomorrow. I was gonna have you done here, but screw it, everyone in the company knows anyway, so you both get them there. Wonder how Daddy is going to react when he gets his very own shiny set, for not enforcing the morals clause of the company? I bet the home office will be really interested."

"But I don't want a divorve! It was just a fling! Please Jer, please."

"I'm leaving now. I've got an apartment the next town over. If you decide you don't want the house, I'd like to move back. I love the place. And I'm not moving back home, ever. I love it here! How many people can say they played gold in the last week of February, and it was seventy-two degrees? I hereby renounce my Yankeeship. You might want to move, I know for a fact that motel charges by the hour. You've already pissed in twelve ninety five, plus tax."

I walked out, I had a business dinner with my lawyer and Mrs. Jimmiejam to attend, at the best barbeque joint in town.

I had a moment of sadness, for what I had lost. Then I mentally shook myself and listened as his jilted wife told yet another embarrassing story about little Jimmie.

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