The Making Of A Gigolo (12) - Janet Griswold - Cover

The Making Of A Gigolo (12) - Janet Griswold

Copyright© 2008 by Lubrican

Chapter 1

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Janet put up a good front about being a confident woman, who didn't have a man in her life because she didn't need a man in her life. After two failed marriages, her mantra was that men were usually more trouble than they were worth. Her bravado convinced almost everybody that it would take a very special man to get her attention. But the truth was that Janet was afraid of men. One man, in particular, made her very nervous. Then, one night, that man knocked on her door.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Reluctant   Incest   Light Bond   Oral Sex   Masturbation   Petting   Pregnancy  

1974 - December

Janet Griswold was sitting in front of her TV feeling sorry for herself. It was the twenty-first of December, and she was “celebrating” her thirty-second birthday. So far, only her best friend, Rhonda, had called to wish her happy birthday. Even then, it had only been a call, without an offer to take her out to dinner or anything!

Of course, Janet was used to birthdays like that. As a child, the fact that her birthday was so close to Christmas had led to the inevitable combination of both holidays, meaning she got nothing until Christmas morning. True, she always got a cake on her birthday, but she had always felt a little like she had been cheated.

A lot of Janet’s life seemed to have been short-changed a bit. Her first husband, Willard, had been a mean drunk, and had smacked her around when he was drinking. She’d taken it for a year, thinking she could change him. Then he’d broken two of her fingers when he bent them back, while screaming at her. That had been the last straw, and she’d filed for divorce. That he had left without comment didn’t make her feel any better.

Then, when she had decided he was just a fluke, she had taken the chance again, marrying Jack, a man she met at a town celebration. He had turned out to be a jealous man. At a party, when she was with a group of other wives, he had overheard a man saying he’d like to fuck her. That the man was drunk, and also said he’d like to fuck the other women in the group didn’t matter. Jack told her about it later that night, when they got home.

All she had done was smile, and he had slapped her around, telling her not to get any ideas. Then he had dominated her in an hour long sexual encounter, in which he had demanded she cum, because it was important to him that he be the man who made her cum. When she finally did, he slapped her again, twice, and told her to remember that she was his bitch, and that she’d better never let any other dog come sniffing around.

She had taken it from Willard a dozen times before getting up the courage to leave him. This time, when she stared at the hand print on her cheek, the next morning, she moved her stuff out as soon as he went to work.

Jack fought the divorce bitterly. She was of the opinion that he just didn’t want any other man to have her. The only reason she felt safe from him now was because his company had moved him to Albany, New York. He was supposed to pay her alimony, but she hadn’t seen a check in years. She didn’t want to have to communicate with him again, so she just got by on her own.

Since then she had just about decided that she didn’t want any other man to have her either. It wasn’t that she didn’t miss the better, kinder parts of a relationship. She missed the intimacy and the camaraderie a lot. She missed the sex too. Both men had pleased her, when they weren’t being bastards.

But she just didn’t trust men anymore.

She talked a good game, at least to Rhonda, making suggestive remarks, commenting on men; as if she were a tiger on the prowl, and those men were prey. But it was all a front. She was scared to death to think about dating again ... about exposing herself to a man’s control ... and wrath.

She had purchased what she called her “perfect man”, a seven inch dildo that only Rhonda knew she owned. She had used it for over five years, but lately, it had lost some of its appeal.

Almost three years ago she had managed to help her friend Rhonda, who was stuck in an untenable marriage with a homosexual man. Her “perfect man” had gotten a lot of use back then, as she saw Rhonda blossom and flower in the relationships she had with Bobby Dalton. Janet had paid the man to have sex with Rhonda. The change in Rhonda had been startling ... almost unbelievable. She had even had the man’s baby!

Janet was a frequent visitor to Rhonda’s house and had helped, to a surprisingly large extent, raise little Elizabeth, who was almost two years old now. She’d known nothing about babies until Rhonda had one. Now she thought of Elizabeth as her niece, and now that she was walking and talking, Janet couldn’t wait to see what happened next.

During that time, she had seen Bobby lots of times, when he came over to spend time with his daughter and her mother. Janet always pulled back a bit whenever Bobby was there. It wasn’t that he scared her. He was always friendly and polite. And Rhonda obviously had a special place in her heart for him. It was just ... well ... it was just that he was a ... man.

He was a handsome man. He was obviously good in bed, if Rhonda was anything to go by. He seemed like a nice guy. But, in the end, he was a man ... and she could not bring herself to trust one of them again.

She’d been plenty envious of Rhonda in the beginning. There were times, back then, that Janet thought about how much better looking she was than Rhonda, with her hourglass figure, and firm, high-riding breasts. She had driven her husbands crazy with lust, and she’d seen that same lust in lots of other male eyes. She hadn’t seen it in Bobby’s eyes, though. Not for her. She saw it in his eyes when he looked at Rhonda ... plain, dowdy, slightly overweight Rhonda.

And she’d felt shame. Rhonda deserved happiness, and she had found some measure of it with Bobby. It was then that Janet put Bobby Dalton off limits, and reminded herself that he was ... a man.

She lifted the small tumbler of bourbon she had allowed herself for her birthday. She was careful with whisky, knowing what it had done to her first husband, and others she knew. She tossed off the half inch left in the tumbler and winced as the whiskey burned her throat. She stood, and wavered, realizing that she had drunk the three fingers she’d allowed herself much too quickly. It didn’t matter. She was just going to go to bed. She’d wake up tomorrow, and it wouldn’t be her birthday anymore. That would be a better day.

She had just washed out the glass, and settled it carefully into the dish drainer, when the doorbell sounded.

She looked at her wrist, which was bare. She’d taken her watch off earlier. She looked up at the clock above the sink. No luck there. The battery had been dead for ages, and the clock had read 3:14 ever since. Next she looked at the window. It was dark. Who could be at her door?

She felt the nervousness that a single woman always feels, when someone is at the door and it’s dark outside. She tiptoed to the door, as if that might keep her safe, somehow.

“Who is it?” she yelled through the wood.

“Bobby,” came a man’s voice, through the door. “Bobby Dalton.”

Janet blinked. Why would Bobby Dalton be here?

“Rhonda’s not here,” she yelled, going for the obvious reason he might be there.

“I know,” he said. “Can I come in?”

She wasn’t afraid of Bobby, so she opened the door.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, peering through the storm door at him.

“Happy birthday,” he said, grinning. He held up a colorfully wrapped present.

“For me?” she asked, in amazement. She opened the screen door and he stepped in.

“You’re the only one here who’s having a birthday, aren’t you?” he asked. He looked around in an exaggerated manner, looking for any other people.

“Of course,” she said, reaching for the package.

She couldn’t remember the last time someone had given her a real birthday present ... on her birthday, and her fingers tore at the paper, to reveal a tin of chocolate covered cashew nuts.

“Rhonda said they were your favorite,” said Bobby.

“They are!” said Janet. “Thank you!”

“Um ... that’s not all,” said Bobby, carefully.

“What else?” asked Janet, excitedly.

“Rhonda got you something too,” he said.

“What, what?!” she demanded.

“Well ... uh ... me.”

“What?” Janet looked confused.

“Remember how you hired me for her?” he asked. “She did the same thing ... except it’s for you.”

Janet’s fingers went numb. He was here! In the house! He wanted sex!

“No!” she whispered.

“Really,” he said, looking earnest. “I wouldn’t tease you about that, Janet.”

“No!” she said, more loudly. “You can’t! No!

She thrust the cashews at him, more as something to keep him away from her than anything else. When he took them from her nerveless fingers, the barrier between them was gone, and she felt even more vulnerable.

“No ... please,” she moaned, backing up.

While he stood there, she turned and dashed for her bedroom door. She ran inside and slammed it closed, reaching to engage the lock that wasn’t there. She looked at the knob, helplessly, and gripped it with her hand, as tightly as she could.

“Janet?” came his voice, through her bedroom door.

No!“ she yelled. “Go away!

“Janet,” he said. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He had known Janet would react to this ... he just hadn’t known how she would react. “It’s just for your birthday,” he added, hopefully.

“Just leave, Bobby,” she moaned. “She shouldn’t have done this.”

“Can’t we just talk about it?” asked Bobby. “She paid me already.” He winced as soon as he’d said it. Money wasn’t the point, here. He also didn’t like the sound of that.

“Give her the money back,” she said through the door.

Her hand still gripped the knob tightly. She hadn’t felt him try to turn it, but she wasn’t taking chances now.

“I’m not leaving here with you acting like this,” said Bobby. “Come out and we’ll just talk.”

“Noooooo, Bobby,” she moaned. “Pleeeease leave.”

“Not until you calm down, and talk to me,” he insisted. “Why are you so afraid of me?”

“I’m not...” she started to say, and realized that was patently false. She was afraid of him. She took a breath and thought about that. Why was she afraid of Bobby Dalton? He’d never done anything even remotely aggressive. There had been that one time, when he’d offered to let her watch while he ravished Rhonda, but she’d found out later that had just been a prank. She remembered being astonished that Rhonda had gone along with it. It had been so different than what she would have expected Rhonda to do. She’d expected that Rhonda might hide in her room.

Like she was doing right now!

“Wait in the living room,” she called through the door.

“Okay,” he said. “You’re coming out?”

“I don’t know,” she yelled. “Just go wait there, please?”

“Okay, Janet.”

She waited to feel his hand on the knob, but it never came. She waited, wondering if he was on the other side of the door, being quiet, so he could grab her when she opened the door.

She couldn’t stay in here all night.

She suddenly felt foolish. She was overreacting. She knew that, but her stomach still roiled. The fear was almost palpable. She’d had the occasional thought about Bobby, but had no idea it would be like this! She felt crippled.

“Bobby?” she said softly. “Are you out there?”

When nothing came through the door, she turned the knob slowly. Panic gripped her heart as she opened it ... just a crack ... and peeked out.

Nothing.

She felt even more foolish, and opened it wider, her muscles still ready to flee.

He wasn’t in the hallway either.

Of course he wasn’t! It was Bobby! Why was she so frightened? This was insane. He was in the living room, where she’d asked him to go.

She tried to move confidently toward the living room. She’d say a few words to him ... explain that she’d had a bad day or something. He’d leave, and she’d be safe again.

She had to walk by the kitchen doorway on the way, and movement caught her eye as she did. Her head turned to see him standing there.

“Eeeep!” she yelped, banging off the hallway wall as she lurched away from him.

He held out a glass with orange liquid in it.

“I thought you might like something to drink,” he said. “Orange juice was all I found in the fridge.” He peered at her. “Are you okay?”

“Yes!” she said, feeling more foolish than ever. “I just had a bad day, that’s all.”

“You’ve been drinking,” he commented.

“No!” she said, denying it.

“Janet, I can smell it on your breath.”

How had he gotten so close to her? He was right there!

She saw the glass move toward her, and took it with a shaky hand.

“You need to sit down,” he said.

“Okay,” she muttered. “Yes.”

She sat. He sat across the room from her, in a chair. She gulped at the orange juice.

“I’m not like this,” she said.

“Obviously, you are like this,” said Bobby. He sipped juice too, and looked as normal as the day is long. “I’m just curious about why. I’d like to think that you’d know I’d never hurt you.”

“I didn’t think that!” she lied.

“Yes you did,” he said. “You were terrified. What did I do to terrify you?”

“Just go home, Bobby,” she sighed. “It’s not you.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

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