Chapter 58: While Marveling at Her New Take on Life...

While marveling at her new take on life, Candy Barbier still had the usual day-to-day little things to do. Chores, cooking, shopping. What surprised her, and pleased her, was the reactions from long-time friends.

Most of the comments from her girlfriends were positive. The few acquaintances she didn’t hear from ... well, they obviously disapproved, but so what?

A few were generally intrigued and pressed her for details. Were there some gal pals whose prurient interests were more about the sex than about Candy herself? Probably, but, again, so what?”

Candy was having the time of her life. Ricky was in awe.

Ray-Ray had produced a compilation video that showed her climaxing with a variety of partners. Darlene, Gigi on stage, Jolene on stage, Ray-Ray fucking her, Misty eating her. It was under a minute in length and showed her at, she felt, her sexiest best. Ray-Ray had made sure that each frame was flattering. That her face, at the moment of orgasm, was ecstatic.

Candy thought of it as her Cum Video and was not only pleased with how she looked, but proud. At 34, she still had a teenager’s hardbody and it showed.

She gave Ricky a copy and told him, “Show it to whoever you want, but don’t share it. It’s for us, for you and me, to decide who gets to see it.”

“Sure thing!”

Kate rarely called her to dance — maybe once a month. Kate knew which girls needed the money, and favored them. Candy understood. But she was still waiting, and most willing, to play the role of Kate’s goodwill ambassador, if and when.

The first time Ray-Ray told her he wanted Ricky to tape them, Candy didn’t hesitate. If she had taken the time to rationalize it, she might have told herself, “Hell, he’s already seen me having sex with Jolene, what does it matter if it’s Ray-Ray?”

But she hadn’t had even that brief internal dialogue. She just said, “Sure, why not?” That was her mood these days. Why not?

That first afternoon Ray-Ray told Ricky, “You undress too. You can jack off.” Ricky looked at his mom beseechingly. Candy just laughed, “Why not? Why the fuck not?”

After Ray-Ray entered her, after a few minutes, she was no longer thinking of Ricky. But every time she caught a glimpse of him taping them, with his erection bobbing wildly, she realized that having an audience turned her on even more.

So, as the weeks passed, whenever Ray-Ray or Darlene came by for some pussy, she was glad when Ricky was there too. She didn’t have any sexual desires for him, at least none that she could identify, but was certain that she came harder with him right there in the room.

And she loved when his friends came over. Which was now more frequently than ever. Four of them, four who had been at the Pussy Party, had seen her with Jolene that Saturday morning. She told Ricky, “Play my Cum Video when they get here.”

Big grin, “I know, Mama, I know.”

She loved their open stares, a caught breath, when she walked into the living room while they were staring up at that big flatscreen.

Life was good.

One Tuesday afternoon, Darlene drove up in her Vespa. Candy and Ricky exchanged a glance, grinned at each other. Darlene clapped her hands, “Group shower, chop-chop.”

As the water cascaded over the three of them, Darlene looked Candy in the eye, took her hand, and wrapped it around Ricky’s cock. A first. Candy was neither shocked nor turned on. She kept staring into Darlene’s eyes and calmly started stroking the boy.

He gasped. The two girls continued gazing into each other’s eyes. Darlene was silently saying, “Get him off.” Candy was silently agreeing, “Sure, why not?”

Ricky didn’t last even a minute.

Even though Candy was feeling sexier than she ever had in her life, she almost always wore at least a pair of panties when she was home alone with Ricky. He never asked for anything; he was gobsmacked just to be around the sexiest girl he’d ever imagined.

And, despite that one masturbation event in the shower, he never asked for a repeat performance. He also wore underwear; and whenever he jacked off to one of her videos, it was in private.

Then one morning, Kate called her, “Hello Mrs. Ambassador.”

Candy’s heart raced, “What do you want me to do?”

“Go to the Cajun Arms, room 212. There’s a lobbyist there from Jackson who likes pussy. He’s in a position to do me a favor someday. I don’t need him yet, but down the road...”

“I’m on it Kate! Anything else I should know?”

“You’re the first pussy I’ve given him, so I’m not sure what he likes. Just go with the flow. Then come tell me about it. I don’t know if he just wants a quickie or if he’ll keep you all night. I think he’s by himself, but I’m not sure.”

“It’s safe? I mean he’s not a sicko or something?”

“Rémy’s going to meet you there, walk you up to the room. He’s a good judge of character.”

“Okay. I got to get ready — tell Rémy I’ll be there in an hour.”

Candy left a note on the kitchen table: _Ricky, I may be gone all night — I’ll call to let you know. Heat up that turkey gumbo. Love, Mama._

On the drive to the motel, Candy wondered idly if Kate was planning to pay her. She didn’t really care one way or the other; she was just curious. That she was driving downtown to fuck a complete stranger fell into the why-not category that seemed to define her life decisions these days.

She was surprised to see Rémy step out of a Sausalito patrol car in his full uniform. She’s known him for years, but had seen him only in regular clothes. She figured the police car and the uniform were to send a signal to the lobbyist — Candy Barbier was under full protection.

She gave him a brief hug, “I appreciate this.”

He shrugged, “Better safe than...”

He led the way up the outside stairway to the second floor and knocked on 212. The man who answered was around 30, a little portly, but normal-looking in suit pants and an open-collar white shirt. He had a gold band on his wedding finger.

Rémy said, “Hello, this is...”

Candy jumped in, “Hi, I’m Candy Barbier, I’ll be your pussy for today.”

Both men laughed.

“I’m Jack Bannister. Would you guys like a Pappy Van Winkle?”

Rémy, “You bet.”

Candy, “Thank you.”

As she undressed — because why-not? — Candy noted the unopened bottle of bourbon, a full ice bucket, and four nice highball glasses. Even a pair of ice tongs. The unopened bottle told her she didn’t have to worry about some kind of date-rape drug.

Both men were seeing her naked for the first time. She hung her suit up carefully, peeled down her panties, and left her heels on. She felt good, knew she looked sensational, and reveled in their open appreciation.

Rémy in particular looked at her thoughtfully. Candy smiled to herself; she’d bet that he’d be calling Kate to see if he could have a turn himself.

Candy was surprised at Rémy’s interest in the legislature up in Jackson. Jack Bannister knew who Rémy was, and said, “It is not unnoticed up in the capitol that you can deliver a couple of thousand votes every time out.”

“My team does small favors when we can. People remember.”

As the men talked shop, Candy found she was interested in the conversation. But she was also aroused. At her nakedness. At her boldness in undressing in front of both of them. In anticipation.

Her nipples were erect, there was a growing moistness between her thighs. She wasn’t in heat, but she was on the way. She listened closely, observed the body language — an in-uniform cop and an at-leisure lobbyist.

Then Rémy stood. He put down his glass with a half-inch or so of bourbon left in it, and shook hands with Jack. Candy impulsively hugged him, and he patted her on the butt, “Be good.”

“Of course.”

Once Rémy left, Jack Bannister turned his full attention to Candy, looking her up and down, “Tell me about yourself.”

“Let’s see. I’m 34, a single mom. One 14-year-old son. Um ... divorced. Kate Broussard talked me into dancing at Miss Kitty’s. I jess got to do that a couple of times. Kate calls me her goodwill ambassador.” Wink. “An’ here I am, full of goodwill and ready to spread happiness.”

“You’re remarkable.”

He began undressing, and she pulled down the last garment — his white jockey shorts. She was pleased to see him fully erect. About 5 or 6 thick inches with a tight patch of black curly hair.

She ran her tongue around the head, “Want to cum first?”

He looked thoughtfully at her, “I would actually, thank you.””

Still on her knees, she held him lightly with her fingers and sucked him in. She could tell he was aroused, but not ready to pop like some overexcited teenager. So she took her time, drawing it out when he got close, bringing him to the brink three, then four times. She felt good, she felt sexy, she felt in control.

Then she decided it was time. She sucked in her cheeks to create more suction, used her tongue artfully and masturbated the base with one hand.

He moaned and exploded. Then Candy really went to work, making love with her mouth. She got every last drop, then continued to service him. She sucked and licked and fondled his hanging balls. She could picture herself and loved the image — naked, beautiful, sexy, worshipping.

When she stood up and smiled at him, he spoke from the heart, “The best I ever had.”

“We aims to please.”

From then on, she was a little geisha girl. Mixing drinks, massaging his neck and shoulders, licking and sucking him back to life. When he was quivering with eagerness again, she lay on her back, scooted so her butt was at the end of the bed, brought her knees back to her shoulders, “Please.”

Around 8 that night, in the shower, he said, “I want to see you again.”

“Me too. Just let Kate know and I’ll come running.”

She helped him dress; as she was bent down tying his oxfords, Jack said, “Can I have a picture of you?”

“Of course.”

Candy put on her heels and posed at an angle in front of the full-length closet mirror so that he could capture all of her.

“Can I have your number?”

She entered it in his cell, but said, “Call me anytime, but if you want to see me, you have to go through Kate.”

Candy didn’t know how she knew that that was the proper procedure — she just sensed it.

Back home, she was famished and tucked into the gumbo as soon as Ricky heated it up.

He waited until she had finished it and was on her second glass of wine. As he rinsed the bowl, he looked over his shoulder, “Well, where you been?”

“Room 212, Cajun Arms Motel.”

“Why?”

“Hon, lemme tell ya’...”

Once she had fucked Jack Bannister for Kate, Candy felt more independent. Less in thrall to Ray-Ray and Darlene. She still took them to bed when they came calling, and it was usually good, enjoyable sex. But she felt that, even though Jack had been a one-time romp to please Kate, she was somehow kind of elevated in the Sausalito hierarchy.

She had gone to Miss Kitty’s to report to Kate the next day, but the woman just laughed and held up her hand, “Jack already called me. To rave. Thank you. And here’s $500.”

Both women knew, and neither felt the need to mention it, that Candy was now a whore. Whether Kate paid her in money or favors, Candy was now turning tricks for the woman.

“Next time, Jack may bring a friend.”

Candy grinned.

“Rémy wants you too. I told him it’s up to you.” She shrugged, “Give him some pussy or not.”

“Pussy.”

Kate nodded, “He’s good people. He never talks about it, but he’s lonely since Marie left him.”

“Marie Guidry.”

“Yes.”

“Back to business. If Jack Bannister brings a friend. or two, I’ll pay you for each of them.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it. The money and the ... the other.”

Kate hadn’t bothered to tell Candy that Ray-Ray had installed three hidden camcorders in room 212. Not that Candy would have minded; she loved watching herself. But it would have been difficult to resist stealing glances at the cameras.

Ray-Ray had edited the tapes for Kate. She doubted she’d ever need them, but it was better to have them than not.

Partly to celebrate her successful outing with Jack Bannister, but mainly because she was feeling so lively these days, Candy Barbier took Ricky to Contrary Mary’s for lunch. From the videos, from that shower handjob, they were becoming closer than ever these days.

They slid into a booth facing each other and Ricky gasped and said, “Oh.”

Candy watched a tiny Lolita doll bop over to them, “Hi there, Ricky.”

“Chloé, I didn’t’ know you worked here!”

“Yep, Darlene hired me. It’s a lot of fun.”

Candy couldn’t get over the little sexpot. She looked about 9 or 10 years old. Yet if Ricky knew her, she must be 14 or 15. And there was no question why Darlene had hired her — the little munchkin radiated sex.

Beyond that innocent, heart-shaped face ... she had an impish gleam in her green eyes. A whisper of a smile. Candy thought: _This little number knows exactly how sexy she is._

She flirted with Ricky, then brought over a couple of Dixies. Candy allowed him one or two on special occasions. Chloé didn’t bother taking their orders — the only items on the menu were cheeseburgers and fries.

Ricky started, gobsmacked, as she sashayed away to flirt with the next table. Candy smiled, “See anything you liked?”

“Huh? Oh. Oh no, she’s too ... um, too...”

“Sexy?”

“Young. Well...”

“How do you know her?”

“Home room.”

“So she’s your age.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

When Chloé brought their food, Candy teased her, “Is it true what I heard? Darlene’s panties policy?”

Ricky sucked in his breath.

Chloé set down their baskets, winked at Candy, and used both hands to lift her little skirt up. Candy and Ricky, mother and son, stared at the tiny slit. Chloé grinned, “Like it, Ricky?”

Beet red. “Uhhhhh.”

She fanned the hem of her skirt, “I’d rather wear a thong, but this is okay. What do you think?”

“I ... uh, yes ... a lot.”

As they tucked into their burgers, Candy could barely keep a straight face. Ricky’s cheeks were still aflame. He was squirming around, obviously aroused as only a 14-year-old boy could be. His eyes were glassy; he wasn’t tasting his food.

Candy studied him with amusement. She leaned across the table, and whispered, “Ricky.”

“Huh? What?”

“Did you see that tiny little pussy?”

Elaborate shrug. He shifted around, crossing his legs.

“God, is she sexy. Know what I’d like to do?”

“Don’t, Mama. Don’t. I’m ... jess, don’t.”

“I’d like to lick her little cunt. Tongue-fuck her until she...”

Beet-red Ricky moaned and shot off in his jeans. From across the room, Chloé winked at Candy.

The next week, both Candy and Jack Bannister lay on their backs, satiated. The sex had been good for both of them. She rested her head on his chest, he had an arm around her shoulders.

She said, “Want a drink?”

“Later.”

He was, Candy decided, the best lover she’d had. Better than her ex. Far better than Ray-Ray. Maybe part of it was the newness. The naughtiness. Knowing Kate would be giving her another $500. But mostly she believed it was because Jack was ... considerate. She was there to please him, sure. But he had been concerned with her orgasm as well.

He wasn’t handsome, but had nice even features. A little pudgy, but not a fat slob, not even close. An average size cock, perhaps thicker than most she’d seen.

She heard a smile in his voice, “I showed your picture to a friend of mine. A good friend, close.”

She smiled, “Oh?”

“He wants to join me next time. Next week.”

“Fine, but you’ll have to clear it with Kate.”

“Already did.”

“My, aren’t you the devilish one.” Then, “What’s he like?”

“My age. In the business — politics. He’s a state senator from Jackson.”

“Impressive.” Candy didn’t care about politics, but she knew Kate did. Candy knew there was no need to play coy, to flatter Jack. No need to tell him that he was more than enough for her. He was a mature, educated man. And would know that almost any woman could outlast both his friend and him.

A few moments later, Jack nuzzled her, whispered in her ear, ‘What’s the kinkiest thing you ever did?”

No hesitation. “Once I masturbated my son.”

Jack sat up, astonished, and stared down at her, “Really?”

Candy sensed that he was truly shocked. Yet curious too.

“i had just started dancing at Miss Kitty’s. It was ... um, a sexy show with another girl. The audience ... went kinda wild. Anyway, I had sort of a ... a glow, a good feeling for a couple of days. You know, remembering an’ everything.”