Chapter 1: A Strange Proposal

“Is this Kelly?”

The voice on the phone sounded familiar so I answered, “Yes, this is she.”

“Ummmmm, this is Barbara, remember me from the party you and Wanda did at my house this past weekend?”

Of course, now I remembered where I’d heard that voice. Just a few days ago I’d modeled for my first lingerie/toy show at her house. Suddenly an image flashed before me of the look on her face as I was leaving, as if there was something she wanted to say to me but then at the last minute changed her mind. Was this call somehow related to that?

“Oh hi Barbara, is there something I can do for you?”

There was a silence on the phone and again, I could picture that face from a few days ago, almost desperate to say something but then failing to find the courage. Was she going to back down again? I waited patiently on the phone for her to answer.

“I don’t know how else to say this so I guess I’ll just come right out and ask ... Will you fuck my husband?”

Note to Readers: In case you haven’t read what I wrote about the events of a few days ago, a quick summary but for the complete details, see my diary entry for November 1st. Due to some personal issues, I’m no longer teaching or living at home or engaged. Not that these changes are necessarily due to the same reasons, they just happened to all fall on my lap at the same time. To make ends meet, I decided to return to a variation of the escorting work I use to do, except in this case the focus would be on home parties and groups, no single dates or hotel rooms or that sort of thing. Indeed, actual sex was something I really didn’t want to get involved in - at least so far as my work was concerned.

If there is one thing I decided to be firm about from the start, it was that I will NEVER do anything one-on-one for money. I am not a whore or a prostitute (as if there is a difference). Everything I do is to take place in a main room with everyone present. None of this disappearing into the back bedroom for a private fuck crap. There are plenty of girls out there (like my cousin) who are available if that’s what they want - and I’ve actually called Kristen while at a party to come and help out (she DID give me a cut as well!).

So anyway, my mind was racing at this “shot from the blue” question from Barbara. What seemed like a dozen scenarios flashed though my head in a matter of seconds as I tried to think of some snappy response or witty retort. Instead, I stalled for time.

“Uh, exactly what do you mean Barbara?”

“Ok ... my husband and I have been having a rough time for quite a while but lately it’s been really bad. I’m afraid he’s going to have an affair or even divorce me unless I do something drastic. Sorry if I offended you, but I just assumed you were THAT sort of girl after what you did at the party.”

I smiled to myself at her assumption. Of course in her mind I suppose any girl that would display her all but nude body to a bunch of women and then masturbate on her bed while being watched (even though I wasn’t aware of it at the time) simply HAD to be a whore. Well news flash! There’s a BIG difference between showing yourself off and letting strangers have their way with you for money. I may be a slut, and proud of it, but I am not a whore.

“I’m sorry Barbara, I’m not a prostitute,” I finally managed to say, “Now if you need one, I can get you in touch with someone that might be able to help you.”

Thoughts of my cousin Kristen were running through my mind. Indeed, this sounded like one of those cases where her unique “talents” would probably come in handy.

“Oh no, that’s not what I meant,” she said, her voice sounding like it was about to crack any moment. “Look, this isn’t coming out the way I meant. Could you stop by the house and talk with me about this for a few minutes?”

My first instinct was to politely refuse but I had to admit, my curiosity was going wild. Of course, we all know what curiosity did to the cat. Still, what could it hurt to just talk to her about it? So in the end I agreed and said I’d be over in about an hour. Since it was only about a fifteen minute drive to her house, that gave me some time to straighten myself up and look decent. One of these days I’ll have to break a bad habit of not getting myself dressed or made up until I’m ready to go out for the day, which sometimes never happens before I need to go to bed again!

I quickly showered and put on a little makeup, not like I was going out on a date or whatever, but enough to cover up a few blemishes and make myself presentable. A pair of faded jeans and a well-worn college sweatshirt was all I decided to wear. After all, it wasn’t like I was going over there to seduce her or even turn her on. Even so, it was enough that I was about five minutes late when I pulled up to the curb in front of her house.

Knocking on the front door for the second time in a matter of days (why couldn’t I ring her doorbell again this time?), Barbara opened it almost as soon as my hand struck the knocker the first time. She invited me in and I followed her back into the living room.

The living room looked different today than it had last Saturday evening. For one, the curtains were pulled back so the room was flooded with sunlight, making it a lot brighter and more cheerful. The room was mostly empty and the house was deathly quiet, unlike Saturday night when a half dozen housewives were packed in the room.

Barbara motioned for me to take a seat on the couch as she pulled up a chair to sit opposite from me. She was dressed in an outfit as if she was about to leave for the gym or something, her hair pulled back in to a ponytail and sneakers on her feet. She was nervous though, her hands clenched tightly together and actually on second thought, she looked more scared than anything.

“The kids will be home from school soon so I wanted to see you before they got here and wondered who you were,” Barbara said, as if she needed to explain why the house was so quiet.

I sat there quietly, not sure what I should say. After a long, rather tense pause, she continued.

“You know, I really can’t believe I said what I did on the phone to you ... you must think I’m crazy or something even worse.”

I assured her I did not think any such thing, even though the thought HAD crossed my mind a few times. It’s not like my phone rings up every day with some older woman asking me if I would fuck her husband...

“You see, Joel and I have been married for almost ten years now. Everyone knows we have the two kids, Connie’s seven and Kevin is six, but not many people know I was three months pregnant when we were married. Joel wasn’t thrilled to marry me, but he came from a family where honor and responsibility were important so he married me because it was the right thing to do. Unfortunately, I miscarried and lost the baby only a couple of weeks after the marriage. At first I was terrified that that Joel would want to annul the marriage but he was too proud and didn’t want to embarrass himself any further in front of his family. As you can probably imagine, we didn’t exactly get off to a grand start and things have never really been all that great. Then Connie arrived, followed by Kevin, and it was like we were stuck - we HAD to stay married.”

By now it was all I could do to keep from rolling my eyes at this little soap opera monologue. Like, so what? Good grief, how many other girls got married because they were pregnant and then had to live with the consequences? Did she think that made her special? In any case, what did it have to do with me? Why was she suddenly spilling her guts to a total stranger as if I were her therapist? She and I had hardly spoken two words together during the party and now here she was, confiding in me like her long lost BFF. It just wasn’t making any sense to me.

“So anyway,” she continued, as if now that she had opened the floodgates it all had to come out, “Lately it seems Joel just finds fault in everything I do - even more than usual. He snaps at the kids and stays out late. We haven’t had sex in months but I see things on his computer and phone and I know he is looking at porn, chatting with girls and god only knows what else.”

Again, so what? Did she have any idea how many guys write to me and chat to me about doing exactly what she was describing? While a few have them have confessed to cheating, most of them rationalize that they use porn as an outlet so they will NOT cheat on their wives. If you were to ask me, Joel sounded like just another husband trapped in a loveless marriage with a woman he hated, and reacting to the stress like most men would. Enough was enough. I was trying to find some polite way to excuse myself from the crazy woman when she came to the meat of the matter.

“OK, I can see you don’t understand so let me try to explain what I want. Last week he forgot to close out his private e-mail and so I got to read some of his chats and stuff. Oh Kelly, I think he is thinking about cheating on me with some slutty college girl. But you know what really shocked? She asked if he wanted his wife to watch and he said yes! He told her he wanted me to see him fuck another girl so I would see how much it turned him on and what I should be doing to meet his needs. Apparently I don’t do sex ‘right’, whatever that means.”

I was starting to see where this was heading. On the one hand, it made me all the more determined to get out before I got myself involved in something that was becoming increasingly bizarre. On the other hand, I was more curious than ever. Was she really contemplating what I was starting to think she was? It was looking more and more like the answer was “yes”.

“So let me guess ... You want ME to be that college girl?” I asked, letting a note of incredulity sneak into my tone of voice. “And you want to watch your husband fuck me?”

Barbara just nodded, as if too embarrassed to confirm anything.

“You ARE kidding, right?” I couldn’t help but ask. “Is this some form of practical joke my friends put you up to?” Indeed, it sounded exactly like something my best friend Beth would come up with. She was probably listening in somehow to the whole conversation!

Barbara buried her face in her hands and started to sob. Oh crap, what had I done now? I leaned forward and took her hands in mine.

“So you’re really serious about this? No joke?”

Barbara nodded but she never made eye contact with me.

“Can I ask you a question Barb?”

She nodded almost imperceptibly so I continued on.

“Why do you think Joel doesn’t feel like you meet his needs?”

As much as she had been crying and carrying on, her face darkened to an even deeper shade of red.

“There are things he wants me to do ... nasty things ... whorish things. I’ve never done them, not even before we got married.”

Images of anal sex, BSDM, scat, K9 and other perversions danced in my head. I could only imagine what a husband hooked on porn might be lusting for in this day and age. Why do men think because some poor woman, perhaps desperate for cash or a safe place for her and her kids to live, does something really nasty for someone to show on the internet, that real women would ever do such things?