I read a new story called "Brand New Whores" a couple weeks ago. It was written by Softly and posted to Literotica. If you haven't found and read it, do so. I think you can enjoy this story without it, but reading it would make it more understandable.
Briefly, a plant closes in a small North Carolina town, throwing everyone in town out of work. One family, Dad, Mom, their three daughters and their husbands, and the mother of one of the husbands are all out of work. They decide to start their own business, so they pool all their money and buy a nice Motel. They just get it ready to go when a representative for the New York Giants football team comes looking for lodging for the team during training camp. The deal is too good to pass up.
One thing the team wants are girls to keep "the Boys" satisfied and in quarters. A deal is reached, 5 women to act as whores, the team to pay the group $500 per woman per night.
Softly outlined the adventures of four of the women, but neglected poor Cara, one of the sisters. This is Cara's story on the first night they entertain the team.
Cara and Angel were the last two in the office. Mark had left with his mother-in-law Dolores, escorting her down to one of the rooms that had called asking for a big woman to entertain them, just minutes before the phone rang again. Cara was closest to the phone, sitting behind the desk in the Motel Office and was almost afraid to pick up the phone. It rang three times before she got her hand to move to the phone and pick it up.
"H... hello? Uh, office? Can I help you, I mean, how may I be of assistance?" She was terribly embarrassed at her nervousness. When they had first discussed the arrangement for the women, it had sounded exciting and terribly naughty. Especially since her husband along with the other three men had readily agreed. He husband had almost sounded eager! But how would he feel after she had... serviced(?)... another man?
A deep, masculine baritone voice on the other end asked, "Is Cara there? A couple of us down at the conference room would appreciate her bringing a bottle of Jack Daniels down here if she is available."
The man's sensuous voice sent chills down her spine, the thought of leaving the office to face these men sent another kind of chill.
In a small voice she managed to say, "This is Cara, I'll bring it right down. Is that Conference Room A?" That was the room big enough for the Giants to hold the whole team for meetings.
"Nah," the sexy voice replied, "it's E, where the receivers will be meeting, and us tight ends thought it would be nice to relax together before all hell broke loose with full pad scrimmages and conditioning. Oh, and Cara, plan to stay and talk, none of us are from this area and we'd like to hear what the country hereabouts is like. That OK with you?"
Cara relaxed a bit. The man sounded nice, and talking to the guys would be great, if that was all they wanted. She knew she had to get into this whole thing, but the longer she could put it off the better as far as she was concerned. "Sure, I'll be down right away. Do you need some glasses and mix to go with the whiskey?"
"Nah, no mix, but glasses would be appreciated. And a punch bowl if you have one handy," replied that deep, smooth baritone voice.
She gathered a dozen 10-ounce glasses. "Surely that would be enough," she thought. Put them on a tray with a not-too-large punch bowl along with a ladle, nodded to Angel and headed down to the far end of the wing holding the conference rooms. For another minute she worried that she should have dressed differently. The other women had worn skirts, and high heels along with low cut blouses. Cara only had two nice skirts, and she had been afraid of getting them soiled. Instead she was wearing a pair of tight jeans, and a white T-shirt. The shirt fit nicely, but her smallish breasts didn't make any kind of statement. Certainly not like her mother and Glenda's outfits.
When she reached Conference Room E the door was ajar. She half turned and bumped it open, then walked right in, admiring the gold décor she had selected herself. To her surprise there were only four men. Seven of the comfortable dark red plush chairs had been pulled into a semicircle facing the end of the room facing the sofa, which had been pulled away from the wall. One man was sitting at one end of the sofa, the other three lounged on the chairs. A small table had been pulled out to sit beside the sofa and a big bowl of ice and some soft drinks from the vending machines down the hall were sitting on it.
The man on the sofa stood up to help her with the tray, and my goodness he was big! He towered over her. She guessed he must have been at least 6' 7". And Cara had always thought football receivers were thin and quick men. She had heard that some of them were over six feet, but this was ridiculous. And this guy was no slimjim. He was wearing a black T-shirt that looked like it had been tailored to fit his impressive torso, with a pair of soft warm-ups covering his legs. For a moment, little Cara couldn't move; she was fascinated by the ripples and play of the muscles under that black T-shirt, and the soft flannel that covered his legs arms and torso like a second skin. He must have weighed at least 250 lbs. Even so he was as graceful as a dancer when he moved. Taking the tray out of her hands with one hand, and linking his fingers with hers with the other he led her over to the sofa. There he put the tray down on the table, courteously took her hand and gently seated her on the sofa. She tried hard not to stare at his long legs. Even under the soft warm-up material they looked very muscular. She had heard her husband describe a man's muscles who looked like that as, "cut". Her eyes kept drifting back to them, to her embarrassment.
First introducing himself as Gary he named the others, who each lifted a hand when he called their names. Then he thanked her for bringing the glassware and whiskey. Seating himself beside her he casually mentioned there might be several more men coming later, to relax and chat with her. He called the men who might visit wide receivers and slot backs and told Cara they were a smaller than the men already gathered. "Pygmies," was the word he used.
While he was explaining this he opened the Jack Daniels and poured a good half of it into the punch bowl, then followed that with a whole bottle of concentrated lemon juice then added several cups of sugar. Taking a sip of the concoction he gave a slight grimace before adding another cup of sugar. Satisfied, he grinned at the rest of them while adding what must have been a quart of ice chips.
Looking down at Cara where he had seated her in the middle of the sofa, he asked, "Do you like whiskey sours, little one?"
The little one sure fit her in a room filled with these giants. "I'm not much of a drinker," she answered," I'm sorry. I've never had a whiskey sour. About all I've ever tasted was white wine, and some of my husband's beer. I never liked the beer," she confessed.
"Oh, you're in for a treat then," his deep, caressing baritone voice told her. Let me give you a little sip, soon as it chills." Then he and the others started asking Cara what life was like in this quiet North Carolina area. She hadn't known what to expect, but the fellas were all polite and nice to her. It took her a few minutes but she finally began to relax.
Gary slowly stirred the punch bowl for a few minutes before ladling about an inch of the concoction into a glass and handing it to her. Cara took a sip. To her surprise it tasted really good, kind of like lemonade but with a deeper flavor and it warmed her down to her toes.
"Hey, this is pretty good," she admitted.
"Well, let me give you a full glass then instead of that little taste," the soothing baritone voice chuckled to her.
A moment later she had a full 10-ounce glass of the tasty drink. One of the other guys had been explaining that they were aware the contract the team had signed with her family but they assured her that the guys didn't believe in doing anything with a woman who wasn't completely ready for it and wanting it. They wanted her companionship, anything else would be her decision. They didn't expect anything from her she didn't feel comfortable with. All the guys nodded when the guy on the right said she mustn't feel pressured. The only thing they wanted was her company.
While he was explaining this Cara didn't notice "The Voice" doctoring her drink with Ecstasy, then stirring it in before handing it to her.
As she took the glass one of the other men passed her a bowl of shelled, salted peanuts explaining she should share them with "The Voice" as they were calling Gary. They were good, but very salty. They made her very thirsty and she took a deep drink of the whiskey sour. It sure was good and really warmed her, too, along with relaxing her. She would have to ask her husband if he knew how to make one.
The fellas began offering toasts for the teams success in the coming season; things like, "Here's hoping we score early and often!" and, "When the time comes to get down and dirty, everyone here's going to do their part! Right?" They all looked at her when they made that toast.
.... There is more of this story ...