"Try it again."Sara yelled as she pulled away from the carburetor of the 1966 Volkswagen Beetle. Her daughter pressed the pedal to the floor and turned the key. The engine roared. "That ought to do it." Sara said, triumphantly, as she put the air cleaner back on the carburetor and twisted the idle adjustment needle one last time.
She took her coveralls off and tossed them over a hook in the garage, dusted off her mini-skirt and put her high-heeled boots on. She was not entirely glad to see the engine finally start.
Her husband had died four years ago, when the twins were about fourteen. She had managed to struggle on with the social security benefits and what was left after she had sold his garage, but with the twins being accepted to MIT, money was going to be a real problem. She had vowed to never marry again, but her daughters, Jenny and Marie being accepted to a very expensive college next year, she may have to reconsider.
Unknown to her, the girls had entered her name and posted her pictures on a dating side about a year ago. They had posted a number of sexy pictures of her when she was a teenager, college track star, and then a young housewife. Sara did not feel they were being entirely honest with the dating website. The pictures made her look like a very young woman, when in fact she was now forty years old.
She was not the fleet footed eighteen years old who had run a 4:55 mile at the KU Relays. On the other hand, for a woman who had two children, she had not gained any weight and could still run four laps around the track under six minutes. She was practically a pure clone to her two daughters, who turned heads wherever they went. Sara had long reddish brown hair that she usually wore in a "fish-tail" braid. It was pulled tight behind her head; braided a couple of twists; and tied off with a rubber band; the rest of the tail hung down to her waist. Most women had cut their hair short after they had children, because it was too much trouble. Sara had done that too for many years, but when her girls had become fourteen, they seemed to want to take over. They insisted that their mother let her hair grow out so they would all look the same.
Jenny and Marie were the hit with boys everywhere they went. The usually wore cut off Levi's all summer and tried to get her mother to do the same. The girls wore tight, short shorts that were hemmed just clear of their crotch, but Sara insisted on wearing hers longer and more age appropriate. All of them were bronze skinned beauties from working on the yard and spending part of each weekend at the city pool. The pool gave the girls a chance to meet boys and work on their tan at the same time.
The girls had set up their mother on the internet and she had met a number of men over the years. The latest was a successful businessman who had his own Marketing Firm. He had been corresponding with Sara for about a year. They had made visits to each other's cities about once a month; alternating between Kansas City and Quebec.
Sara was grudgingly interested, but not sure quite how mutual their interest was. She had not had a real satisfactory marriage the first time. She could use the financial security with her children going to college, but was not sure about making another commitment. He had proposed, but she was skeptical.
A few months ago she had gone to Quebec for another visit. She knew that the time had probably come. He had made reservations for her at the Fairmont Le Chateau Frontenac. He had taken her for a carriage ride along the river front. They had gone to dinner at a number of wonderful restaurants within the Old Walled City, visited the Capitol, and walked along the narrow cobblestone streets and warehouses along the water.
She knew the time had come. Maybe she would learn to love him, she thought. Anyway, he had invested a lot of time and money in her. She knew it was coming to this. Conrad Logan was suave and charming throughout dinner and the carriage ride. As he escorted her up to the top floor of the hotel, it seemed like a natural part of the evening when he opened the door and guided her in. She did not put on any false airs of modesty. He was expecting it, and she did not see a way out.
Conrad took her over to the big windows that faced the St. Lawrence River. They could see the cannons below and the other side of the river. They could see the people along the boardwalk and the street performers doing acrobatics.
She did not complain when he stood behind her pointing out the different points of interest along the river. She knew it was coming when he cupped her breast. It was going to happen. How could a forty year old mother of two resist after he had spent a year or so corresponding with her and paying for their visits?
Sara was somewhat receptive to his advances, but either way, it was to be expected. Sara did her part. She was the fascinated guest who watched the wonderful panorama with amazement as he undressed her. From Conrad's perspective, it was hard to tell which the more spectacular sight was.
The middle-aged woman he had brought to Canada from Kansas City was a spectacular sight. He had unbuttoned her dress with no resistance. He had reached around her and unclasped the bra which snapped in the middle of her front. She was not wearing panty hose. Her panties were somewhere between old-maid and Victoria's Secret. Her black lace panties were not as skimpy as a thong. The back and front panels stopped just below her belly button. They had a wisp of elastic that joined the front and back.
Conrad reached his hands into them. She covered his hands with hers. It had been a long time, and she wasn't sure anymore quite how to handle a "first time." Her hands were over his when he slid them down her thighs. She laid her head against him as she stepped out of them.
When he turned her to kiss her, he couldn't help but admire her reflection in the high arched windows. Standing in her high heel boots, he could see that she had a golden tan everywhere except where her bikini lines were. He removed her wire rimmed spectacles and tossed them on the side table as he kissed her. He flipped her long fishtail braid back over her so he could see both breasts. Her medium-small porcelain covered breasts had the longest red nipples he had ever seen.
She dutifully wrapped her long arms up and around his neck as they embraced. His tongue told her that she was expected to reciprocate. Nervously she opened her mouth and allowed him to enter. He picked her up and walked over to the bed.
The rest of the evening went about as well as expected. Sara knew they would have to take this step to see where they went from there. He was not earth changing, but he was also not objectionable either.
When he took her to the plane, she was pretty sure he was willing to marry her. Sara knew she would have to make some decisions. One of the biggest was that her daughters were going to need lots of money the next four years; six if they got their masters, and even more for their doctorates. They were smart enough, but the question was about the money.
In the weeks that followed, they spent more time on the computers; Skyping each other. Conrad liked to talk to her on the computer and see her reactions. Conrad had seen her naked, so now he wanted more. He kept asking her to wear more and more revealing clothes when they were on together. It was hard for her to do. Finally she started to wear just a blue, men's oxford button-collar work shirt to bed. She would sit at her computer table to Skype. Rather than overtly show herself nakedly, she was a little more discreet about it. When she typed, she might turn herself a little. It didn't take much movement for the shirt to part and a breast to be exposed. Sometimes when she re-crossed her legs, Conrad would get a fleeting glance at her partially shaven labia. She had shaven the part above her cleft into a landing strip configuration. Below that, she was bare. It wasn't her idea, but her girls had teased her so mercilessly about it, she finally relented. They had all gone to a Brazilian Bikini Wax shop and had it done. The girls had gone further, and taken all the hair off.
The next time Sara went to Quebec, Conrad proposed. But there were some stipulations. He said he did not necessarily need to have a prenuptial agreement that she would not get anything in the event of a divorce, but it was close.
Sara was expected to sign some sort of "agreement;" stating:
· She would get a set amount of money each month that would be enough for her girls schooling.
· That she would be expected to be an equal partner in the Marketing Firm of Sullivan, Logan and Sink
By now, Sara was running out of options. Her daughters were on the borderline of having to make a commitment of some kind to the school; deposits had to be made and dorms had to be determined. Sara felt she needed to make the best of her situation, and accepted his offer. "She would eventually learn to love him." She told herself.
The wedding was much better than her first. When she had been in her early twenties, she and her husband did not have much money. Now, she had been able to afford all of the amenities; reception dinners, flowers, lots of good stuff. After a short honeymoon, the couple settled into their modest home.
The house was on the edge of the St. Lawrence River, several hundred feet up on the outskirts of Quebec. The kids would be in school, so redecorating the extra bedrooms wasn't an urgent matter yet.
The house had a walkout basement with amphitheater seating around a large patio flanked on three sides by the house. The limestone courtyard had a pool at the far end, with a pool house behind it.
After a brief honeymoon, the couple came back to Quebec. It took Sara a while to get adjusted to life in Canada, but the weather during the spring and summer was nice.
Finally, one day Conrad came home with a troubled look on his face. "What's wrong, honey?" she asked. Well, I may have to take you up on your helping me at the office pretty soon." He said.
"What can I do?"
"Well, to get a better idea, I'll take you out tonight. It will give you a taste of what some of my clients are like." Sara didn't think much about it, and was cleaning the noon dishes and the kitchen and did not notice Conrad go upstairs.
When Sara went upstairs to get ready, she took a shower and began fixing her hair. The bed had a bunch of clothes laid out on it and a paper with some notes. She lay down on the bed to let her hair drop over the side of the bed. She decided to fix her hair up in a French braid. It was a shorter braid that way. She began braiding the hair. She started at the top and wove more and more hair into it until she got to the base of her neck. From there, she sat up and went to her make-up table. While finishing the braid, she noticed the note beside the clothes.
The note said to wear what he had laid out; and nothing else. Sara went over to the clothes laid out for her. She took off her towel and put on the silk stockings. They were a dark stocking that went right to her crotch. The tops were an elastic lace. There were to belts or other support to hold them up. Sara was a little horrified to see the bra. It was called a "shelf bra." She had seen pictures of them, but never actually tried one on. It had some kind of wire support along the bottom; no straps over the shoulders, and no cups. Sara didn't need cups for support; they stuck out straight anyway; no sag to them. She knew Conrad was entranced with her breasts because they did not sag, but this seemed ridiculous.
Sara picked up the dress. She could tell the silk garment was going to fit like a glove. It was not so tight that it would look tacky; but the fit was so close, it almost surely had been tailored. It couldn't have been tailored, though, because it was too short. Also there were some buttons missing. The top fit high on her neck in the back, but the front was scooped so low, her nipples weren't covered. Besides, the button front dress had a button missing at the hem. The hem also hit her just below her thumbs. There were no panties!
Sara didn't know whether to be offended or flattered that this dirty old husband of hers was showing some signs of arousal with her. She decided to humor him by doing what he wanted.
When evening came, Sara was ready. Conrad was in the living room watching the news when he heard the clicking of her high heeled boots. When he looked up, he saw this goddess. Her chocolate brown high heel boots were zipped up the side. Her dress fluttered in the air-conditioning and gave subtle glimpses of even more leg. The long pink nipples that he knew were there were hidden by a sleeveless lace bolero jacket. The front was held together with some kind of clasp over some Chinese style buttons. Behind that, she had a double strand of pearls that hung down almost to her belly button. The dress fit like a glove. There was no stretch type of wrinkles. It hung and clung just off of her body, but left little to the imagination.
Conrad escorted her out to the car. It was a black lotus convertible. Conrad opened the door to help her in. There was no graceful way to get in or sit with much dignity. Conrad got down on his knees to help her with the five-point safety harness. One belt went across her lap. Two straps came over the back of the seat; over her shoulders; and into the clasp in her lap. The last belt came up from the floor under the seat and fastened into the lap belt.
Sara could not get her belt fastened without a couple more buttons being unfastened. Conrad backed out of the drive and roared off. Sara could not hold the sides of her hems together. The wind also ballooned the sides of her bolero jacket open; showing off her nipples to anybody who was close enough to the car. Sara was deeply embarrassed, but still thought maybe this was just her enamorous new husband experimenting with his new toy.
He stopped at "Guinevere's Supper Club and Theatre." The young valet could hardly take his eyes off of Sara when they pulled up to the curb. He was only about twenty, but this woman was a classic beauty of any age. He swung the door open and held out his hand. The embarrassed, almost naked wife fumbled with her harness and tried valiantly to cover herself as she swung her legs over the rocker panel and struggled to stand on the concrete curb that was even higher.
The valley pulled firmly until Sara was up against him with her hands between them. Sara blushed as she caught him looking down the opening between her bolero and dress. She could now feel the bulge in his jeans against her. Conrad came around and extended his arm for her. She took it and was glad to get away from a stranger who had seen her nipples.
When they went inside, Sara was impressed with the restaurant. It was a very small restaurant, with only about ten tables with each table for two people. The seating was an amphitheater setting so everybody could see the stage.
Sara was a little shocked at what she saw once she grew accustomed to the lower light. There were a couple of waitresses that were dressed similarly to her. They had high heel shoes and very short dresses. Their tops were similar to hers. The dresses covered their breasts, but they had what is called in bras as an "open tip" configuration. They must have had a pantyhose type of bra; sheer but with the nipple portion cut out. Their dark silk dresses had long pink nipples and areolas poking through their dresses. The front of their dresses were button-front as well, but there were cutouts where their vaginas were. The openings were situated so that you could see the girls were shaven. At the back, you could see that they all had two tiny gold padlocks holding the sides of their labia together. This was a chastity belt of sorts.
Sara was embarrassed and tried to keep her eyes at a discreet level, without starring. Conrad, on the other hand looked like a kid in a cookie factory. "Isn't this just great?" he said.
"It's going to take some getting used to." She answered.
When the dinner was over, Conrad took her hand. "It's time for the theatre." He whispered as he led her out into the corridor. Once in the narthex, they stopped at the elevator. The elevator took them to the second floor. There several men dressed in tuxedos ushered them into a room through a black curtain.
It took Sara some time to get used to the light. It was a small room. It was a theatre showing old films. This film was a vintage porno film, with several famous actresses in films before they were famous. They were recognizable, but naked; doing things in French that you can't get in the U.S.
Conrad let her to a seat. Sara looked around. There were only a few seats. The row she had been led to had three seats. Instead of another row just in front of them that you had to slide sideways through, it was about five feet to the next row in front of them and behind them. There was an aisle on each side of the row they were in. There was only about enough seats for sixteen or twenty people.
Conrad sat in the far seat and Sara sat in the middle. As soon as she sat down, she was aware of movement in the theatre. From nowhere, a large black man appeared and sat next to her. The rows in front and behind them filled up. A number of others stood in the aisles on each side of them, not looking at the screen.
"This will give you a sample of what goes on in our marketing firm, honey. We entertain customers a number of times and they purchase stock or property from our clients." It was not cold, but Sara started to shiver. "What was going on?" she wondered. "What does this have to do with me?" She thought she and her new husband had gone out for some kinky fun. She knew he was older than her, and had been told that older men sometimes need some kinkiness to "get it up."
Sara set her right arm up on the rest and clutched her husband's hand for emotional support. She grabbed it like a drowning sailor hanging on to a life vest. Conrad settled back in his seat; obviously enjoying the erotic film. Sara was determined to get through this. "I hope nobody here knows us." She thought.
Soon she felt pressure behind her. A couple of men were standing right behind her. One began running his hand through her hair. Another began running the back of his hand along her neck; caressing her. Sara looked over at her husband in terror. Surely he had seen them. "Wasn't he going to run them off or move to another seat." She wondered.
One of them leaned over and whispered something to her husband. He waived his hand; giving him a sign that he was not interested; or just waiving away the comment. He turned to Sara almost as an afterthought. He turned and with his right hand, reached up and unclasped the buttons holding her bolero top together. He dismissed her look of shock as if he was too engrossed in the movie.