Gabriella honked lightly as she spotted her daughter. The tall, scrawny girl with long reddish blonde hair opened the passenger door and threw her backpack into the back seat of Wilbur, the yellow1966 Volkswagen bug.

"Hi, mom. I got an A+ on my speech today." She said as she pulled her earphones on and pulled out her cell phone. From there it was all texting and music through the MP3. She had tuned her mother out all the way home from track practice.

"How many intervals did you have to run today? What was your best time? Did you beat the two senior girls again?" she asked her daughter. It was useless, of course, to ask anything while a cell phone was still working, or she had her ear plugs on. Dakota was the typical teenager. It was all about boyfriends or how to dress at the age of fourteen. Who's going to the prom or Sadie Hawkins Dance or GPA (Girls Pay All) was about all that mattered. They were all business during interval training, but the second the coach said: "G0go get your showers." The cell phones came out, the dresses got hiked up and the boys were top priority.

Gabriella had her own problems, but it was easier to get lost in her daughter's world than to deal with her stuff. Her husband, Joe had lost some big clients during the down-turn in the economy, and things had not come back to normal yet like His Excellency King Barak Obama I was telling everybody. His insurance had run out, his credit cards were maxed out, and they had taken out a series of second mortgages on their house and the farm she had inherited from her parents.

He wanted to have a talk with her tonight when they had to pay bills. It was something she had dreaded all week. She did not want her daughter to hear the screaming and shouting that she knew would be starting once the dishes were put up.

"We're all maxed out on our credit cards; we can't cover the mortgage; and it's going to be hard to cover our bills again, hon." Joe said as he looked at the spreadsheet he had in front of him.

"I know honey. Eventually something big will come up. I know you will take care of it." She tried to say with all the conviction she could manage.

"Well that sounds good, but it's not enough. We have to do something soon; in fact now."

"What kind of ideas do you have in mind?" Gabriella asked.

Joe hit a few buttons on his laptop and turned the screen so she could see:

WIFE FOR SALE / RENT

GOOD HOUSE CLEANER

GOOD COOK

GOOD PERSONALITY

GOOD FIGURE

DOESN'T ARGUE MUCH

NOT A BIG EATER

"What the fuck is this about?" she screamed as she read the posting on Craigslist.

"You're going to have to take a larger role in this household until the economy improves. You've done nothing but housework and chauffer the kid since she was born. It wouldn't hurt if you made a little money." He replied.

"Wife for Sale? That doesn't sound like picking up the slack to me." She said with her hands on her hips and leaning over the dinner table at him.

"Relax hon. That's known as an attention getter. That's all. We need the money and you might be good at house sitting, being a personal chef, and babysitting some rich people's kids."

"Well, that's not what it sounds like to me." She said with a pouting look on her face.

Feeling a little less alarmed at the conversation, Gabriella finished putting the dishes in the dishwasher and wiping down the table. Maybe doing a little cooking and running other kids around town wouldn't be so bad, she thought. It was true; she had not worked outside the home since the Dakota had been born.

She had been lucky that her husband was a general contractor and could work for himself. It gave them more time together, and a pretty good income; until the economy went sour. It might not be so bad to do something she could get money for, but on the other hand, how could she ever make enough money to cover all the debts she knew they had?

They settled down to watch television. Gabriella curled up beside her husband. He was sitting down with the remote in his hand. Gabriella plopped down a couple of feet away; lay her head down in his lap and tucked her feet under her. She knew Joe liked to watch television this way. She could feel the change in his anatomy as she rubbed her head back and forth as if to form a spot she was comfortable in. She could feel the rise in his pants. She could feel his heartbeat. Soon his left hand was creeping over her shoulder and resting on her breast.

Gabriella looked around to make sure her daughter was not around. Dakota's bedroom was upstairs. The stairs was just above them. They could hear it creak if she decided to come down. With her homework, her cell phone and her MP# in her room, there wasn't much chance she would be back down until morning.

She enjoyed the caressing of her breasts. It wasn't the same for both of them of course; to Joe, it was pure excitement. To Gabriella, it made her feel wanted; desired and appreciated. She knew she could control all of his movements, thoughts and reactions by how she treated him.

Through the years, she felt her power slipping a little. It took more and more effort on her part to get him going. A year ago, he had started buying her sexier underwear. He had bought her a thong pair of panties. Then he bought her some black lace panties with a zipper in them. It didn't seem to make much sense to her, but it got him excited, so she figured it was okay.

Recently he had bought her some very short dresses. Then he had brought home some quarter cup bras and then the open tip one. She didn't mind wearing stuff around the house when Dakota was gone, but that was all.

Lately, he had made her wear a short, silk button front dress with nothing underneath. He took her to an adult theater. He dropped her off and said to go in and get her own ticket. He would park the car and meet her in the theater.

When Gabriella went in to sit down, the men who were scattered around the theater all converged like vultures on a dead pig. The sat on each side of her, behind her and in front of her. The men in front of her had all turned to see what was going on. Joe eventually came in and sat behind her.

The men were a little hesitant to do much more than leer at her. Joe decided to instigate something by whispering to the man next to him. The stranger stood up right behind Gabriella. Gabby could feel the heat of his closeness.

When the man behind her reached down to unbutton her dress, the man to her right grabbed her hand and placed it in his lap. Gabby was so shocked, she was almost too paralyzed to react. There was no doubt that her husband knew what was going on. He had brought her here. Her top had been unbuttoned down to her waist before she gathered her wits about her and stood up.

Gabby walked to the back of the theater, confused as to what was going on and what she was supposed to do. "How could you?" she said to her husband as he caught up with her as she went through the vestibule.

"I just thought our marriage was getting a little stale. I thought you might be interested in a little excitement too." He said. "I didn't know you would react like this."

For a while, he had been as excited about the evening as she was turned off. He was much more amorous and she was turning into a cold fish.

The rubbing of her head on his crotch and the rubbing of his hand on her breast had changed. He now had the hem of her dress pulled up and his fingers were buried behind her and between her legs. Gabriella was accommodating him, but with both ears tuned for sounds on the stair.

About that time, Joe's cell phone started chirping:

"Hello? Yeh, that's me. Yes, I think we could get together. No; No; it's no problem. Yes, we can meet you there. Sure, we can be there in 45 minutes." He hung up the phone.

"Somebody called about the posting just now. We are to meet them at "The Purple Phalynx."

I want you to wear something sexy."

"Wait a minute. You said it is about being a personal chef and taking kids to soccer games. What does sexy have to do with it?" she asked.

"Everybody knows, the better you look, the better your chances are of getting any job." He said.

Gabriella didn't like the feeling of this as she sat in front of her mirrored vanity to comb her hair. She combed her hair out and let it cascade down her back. It went to her waist. It was naturally curly and she had actually had a perm a week ago, so it still had that "frizzy" look to it.

She parted it down the middle; pulled the hair at the sides; and clipped it behind her with several Banded Emerald Swallowtail hair clips. The middle greens of the multi-colored clip matched her eyes. The large spots along the edges of the wings that looked like eyes, matched the reddish brown of her hair. The dark colors went from a dark turquoise to a light blue. They looked like several small butterflies had landed on the top and back of her head.

Joe watched her comb her hair. As she raised her arms to put the clips to the back of her head, her long pink nipples thrust out and up through the thin fabric. To him, it was an erotic picture to watch both her and her reflection thrust those magnificent tips up and out on her medium sized melon shaped breasts.

"I think this dress is too revealing." She said as she watched herself in the mirror. "Nobody would go to a job interview without a bra." She said timidly. She knew better than to protest, though. She knew this was what her husband wanted. She wasn't sure now, who the interview was for. "Was she going just so her husband could get his jollies off by watching her squirm in humiliation and embarrassment in front of a stranger, or did he really want her to get this job?" she wondered

She basically seemed to wave the lipstick over the front of her lips, not really caring whether it landed or not. She wore no make-up other than that. She didn't really care whether she got the job or not. She was just trying to placate her husband.

Wilbur was not the car you would normally have taken to a job interview, but they were down to just the one car now. Her husband had sold the others to make payments on a number of debts. He had spent a good deal of time restoring it in better times. It would be good for several hundred miles now, unless they left it outside and the rust got to it.

Joe watched the GPS. Gabriella shouted out the turns as they came up on the screen. When they got to the old garment district, the GPS told them they had arrived. Gabriella got out at the entrance and her husband went to park the car. She stood uncomfortably by the door. The hem of her short green button-front dress flapped in the breeze. Joe had reached down while they were driving and opened the first button above the hem. "You're going to have to show some leg if you want to not look out of style." He said as he flipped the sides apart.

He was always doing something like that, so it wasn't anything new. As she stood there waiting for him, the already too-short dress added to her discomfort. Maybe on a young girl, nobody would have noticed. On her, she was extremely self-conscious. The dress barely came to mid thigh. The lack of modesty created by the open top and bottom buttons made her nervous.

Her long, high-heeled boots reduced the actual amount of skin on display. The boots came just below her knees. They had a classy look, with the zipper up the sides. She used the small clutch purse nervously to hold the front of her dress against her. With no panties, she could feel the soft breeze against her bare labia so she held her legs as tight together as she could, trying to block out the thought from her mind of what she was or was not wearing.

Gabriella dared not look down. Her dress was high in the back, but the sleeveless dress was cut wide and low; just above her breasts. She knew if she looked down she would see her nipples. Perhaps if she did not look down, then nobody else would look down either, she naively thought.

When Joe came around the corner, she welcomed the thought of having somebody familiar with her. He said something to the bouncer, and he made a call on his cell phone. The bouncer guided them through the vestibule and down a short dark hall.

Gabriella was stunned when they came to the main room. It was a three story space with limestone pavers for flooring. The sides of the room formed a square of about sixty feet. The perimeter had about an eight foot aisle with fluted columns supporting the cantilevered upper floor.

The columns had large figures in front of each of them. The figure closest to each column was a large, naked black man. They were made of a polymer kind of finish that glistened like he was covered in sweat. They seemed to be modeled after either NBA or NFL players. They were the biggest and most athletic specimens she had ever seen. They were life-like except for one detail. She didn't see how anybody could have these massive creatures dangling between their legs. The flesh on them looked real.

Either beside, in front of, or under each figure was another of a beautiful young girl. If the men looked real, so did the women. The women were beautiful, slender athletic figures of all ages. One might be an almost pubescent looking girl; barely over fourteen, with long hair, pointy perky breasts just forming and walking like they were going down the street; with one exception. The girl had her hand wrapped around the end of his thing.

Another was down on her knees, about to take the thing with both hands into her mouth. Each limestone column had a decoration of a woman in front of a man in different poses. The definition of a phalynx is a group of warriors. This must have been the theme; with a giant warrior at each column.

The main floor stepped down in 6" terraced increments. Every other step had a four foot wide amphitheatre type of seating space, with glass tables covered with linen table cloths.

In one corner, the highest tier continued around, to form a stage. The spotlights were focused on the stage. On the top tier of seating there were a series of leather couches grouped around a common coffee table to form a series of seating areas. People could sit in groups with their drinks; talk to each other and also watch whatever was going on on stage. They could also see what was going on at each individual table on the lower terraces. Basically everybody in the room could see everybody else.

The room was full of couples having either diner or drinks The bouncer ushered the couple over to one of the couches against the wall. That particular seating arrangement had three couches arranged in a "U" around a coffee table opposite the stage.

Gabriella and her husband sat on a couch facing the stage. Gabriella was horrified to see that the waitresses were naked. A girl on the stage had just finished a dance. She picked up her clothes and walked off to thunderous applause. "What the fuck are we doing here?" Gabriella wondered.

As soon as the music for the dancer was over, some soft interlude music between dancers of "Mavis Staples" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1zJOr61nbyQ) came on.

Before Joe was able to dismiss her nervousness, a tall black man came over. "I'm Mariano Ramos." He said as he extended his hand to Joe. "Joe Munson." Joe said as he returned the handshake. "Mr. Ramos, this is my lovely wife; Gabriella." Mariano extended his hand to Gabriella. She stood briefly and responded by extending her hand. "Pleased to meet you." He said as he kissed her hand.

If her husband had not been present, it might have been flattering. The way he did it in front of her husband, left no doubt he would have fucked her on the spot if he could. He made no pretense to hide his feelings for her. It was a feeling she was all to familiar with during her years as an adult. She knew the look; the hunger and smile.

She knew she was here for some stupid interview, which she was ambivalent about. She didn't know whether to respond receptively or reluctantly to his lecherous smile.

"I guess we all know why we're here about the posting on Craigslist." Joe said as they all sat down. Gabriella looked apprehensively back and forth between her husband and the stranger.

"I have a feeling why we are all here." Mariano said with a leer. "I've run a credit check on you two. I know what you people have in assets and what you owe. I can see why you put out the posting." He said as he looked back and forth between them; looking for some expression of anxiety in either of them. He could see it in Gabriella, but not so much in her husband.

"I'll tell you both what I think." He said. "It's kind of like scalping tickets. You can't just buy a ticket to an NFL playoff game for $100.00 and turn around and sell it for $1,000.00. The police will arrest you. However, if you post something on the internet about providing a ticket, a limo ride and a peanut butter sandwich, you have added something to it that the government cannot put a value on. Then you can sell the ticket and additional services of whatever you want."