Chapter 48: Jennifer

The two wanna be TV producers left my house around 6PM. I dialed Max's cell phone direct. Just so she would know that it was me, not some mooch. She didn't answer of course. She was most likely with one of her new friends. I was a little jealous and a little worried about her. I left a message for her not to forget the meeting, and that Tommy Thompson would be there as well as Marty and Archer...

Thinking about Max messing around with that do gooder attitude bothered me. She was in deep violation of her own rule one. Okay we made up the rules as we went along, but rule one was the first one we ever came up with. To be in violation of it was to be asking for real trouble. Rule one in the Jen-Max code of behavior was simple. Sex, just because it feels good, is stupid. Avoid that at all cost; get something for it, every time. Sure, we both had violated the code and it always ended badly. Sometimes it seemed that we had known more at sixteen, than we did today. Sex to reward someone was okay, or to get a better job, but to do it just because one was turned on, was a waste.

It's like Max's dad told her. "Honey, if you are going to have sex with a boy at the 7-11, at least do it with the clerk. He has a job." Sure her dad was joking, but I always took that story to heart. We both did. Just pure sex with one guy isn't a lot different than sex with any other guy. So get the most you can for it.

That is not the same as who you marry, because then it isn't just about the sex. But when it is about the sex, make it a business transaction even if the guy doesn't know that it is. Since we are all whores in reality, make the John someone who can pay the freight. More wisdom from Max

If she was going to screw an old retired guy, why the hell not go back and screw Marty again. Why in the world do it with a retired Marine. One close to seventy, and living in public housing would have been my last choice. Sure I had screwed Marty, who was well over sixty, but he was rich and he helped me set up my legal firm. He sent me a lot of clients, then when he turned the farms over to his kids, he became a client as well.

Hell without having screwed Marty, I would still be struggling like hell to make the business just break even. After all I was set up in a jerkwater town. I could leave but instead of being a big fish in a small pond, I would be a minnow in the ocean. It was not a prospect in which I could see no advantage at all.

I went into the large master bath to shower and prepare myself. Our shower is not part of the tub, it stands alone in the corner of the bathroom. I had insisted on clear doors for it. I wanted, as much, as the steam allowed, to see and be seen. I worked my ass off to keep the body I had, I wanted to be sure people could admire it. Yes people, other than Bob, had been in the bathroom while I showered. Some even in the shower with me.

I never cared much for shower sex though. It is hard to breath with your mouth full of cock, and water raining down on you. However, men did seem to like it.

I scrubbed my body very carefully. It was just a dinner party with the usual suspects, but one never knew when someone might bring a friend. I always wanted to take Max, but she insisted on at least knowing the guy from somewhere other than one of my parties, before she would screw him ... Silly slut, it was a clear violation of rule one as well, since all the people at the party, could have helped her with the business. Everything from loans, to financial planning advice would be available at any of the parties. The price of admission was sex with anyone, whose name the woman chose at random from a bag. Okay it was almost random sex, but it was with pre-screened men. There had been rumblings that the men wanted the bag to contain all the names, so that the woman might choose another woman. I had resisted that idea up to this point. Since having had sex with Max, I wasn't sure that I would continue to resist. If the suggestion came up over dinner again that night, I might have voted yes. It didn't so I didn't have to change my vote...

I took a good look at my body in the mirror after the hot shower. I was 5 feet 9 inches which was a bit taller than Max. I had dyed red hair, but damn it that dye job was perfect. It should be Henry charged an arm and leg for it. Not to mention the styling, which made me look as though I just woke up all the time. Everyone said I was sexy as hell with that hairdo. I knew that it was more than the hair, but I didn't tell.

I had 36d boobs, not fake, just improved a little. I had very small permanent lifts inserted under each one. It was something new. I had to fly to New York to have done. Since I have never had children, I was the perfect candidate. At the time I did it, I was between husbands, I never had to explain it to anyone. All the lifts did was make me look as though I was wearing a bra when I wasn't. The boob bag sag was minimal with those things. The doctors assured me it would stay that way for many, many years.

My tummy was very small. Even less than a decent belly dancer would have. My butt had been vacuumed so many times, it felt as though I wore a cheap carpet back there. However they tell me the view was really quite good from the rear.

All in all I had been rated gorgeous, by men who knew what gorgeous was. Of course going by rule two, I paid no attention to them. Rule two stated, 'Pay no attention to compliments from men on the make. They will say anything to get laid.' sub paragraph to that is 'Pay no attention to any man in a bar after midnight'.

I walked naked from the bathroom directly into my dressing room. I moved to my dressing table where I sat naked while looking at myself in the mirror. The damages from my teenage years were down to a minimum, thanks to facial sanding, good make up took care of the rest. Botox and collagen for the deep wrinkles of age helped with the illusion as well. In other words I was a far superior looking slut due to medical science.