Learning a Trade

I came out of the shower and looked at myself critically in the mirror. I was 29 years old, typically Jewish, though perhaps I could pass for Italian or Spanish extraction with my black hair, brown eyes, and sharp facial features. 5' 3". My breasts sagged a bit. Still nice, but no longer the pert tits they had been 10 years ago. I had a trim waist even though the hips spread a little too much.

I turned to the side and looked at my ass. Still a nice ass, I thought, if a bit broader than it had once been. Everything would look better if I lost five pounds. Okay, ten. Diet time for sure. Nonetheless, I was not unattractive. I should state that more positively. I was attractive. I still had great legs, my best feature.

Why, then, was Larry so uninterested? We had been married for six years. For the first year or two, sex had been good, but it had tapered off. I expected that, but I didn't expect the taper to go quite so far. We had not had sex in four months.

We were just too used to each other. There didn't seem to be any passion left. I had hoped to respark something on this trip. I looked again in the mirror at my thick black bush. Maybe I should shave my pussy. I grinned. That would give him something new to look at.

Larry's law firm had sent him to Florida to do the ground work for their client's purchase of a Florida company. When I had said I wanted to come, he had cautioned me that this would be a working trip and that he would be very busy. I knew that, but still, a week in Florida -- warm evenings, palm trees, tropical breezes-- ought to let me entice him back into some romance, and into starting a family.

I put on the black bra and the lace trimmed black panties I had bought at Victoria's Secret. Did the way they were cut in a "V" in front emphasize my tummy too much? I decided they would work, and pulled out the spaghetti strap black cocktail dress from the closet. I would be sleek and slinky tonight. I looked in the mirror again. I would be more sleek and slinky, if I could lose those ten pounds. Maybe even fifteen for "slinky".

Every time I had tried to talk to Larry about having kids for the last few years he had seemed receptive, but, "let's talk about it later". Later never seemed to come. My biological clock was ticking. My parents had already made some pointed remarks about grandchildren. His parents had done the same, with his mother in that indirect but oh-so-intrusive manner trying to ask whether there was some problem. There was a problem. Her son wasn't interested in bedding his bride. No sex, no baby.

I slipped on the black cocktail dress, and carefully made up my face. Maybe the problem was me. I had bought and read a book on sex my sister had recommended. I finished it feeling like a sixth grader. I had not known half the things in the book. Well, I knew about them now. I stopped for a moment and squeezed my inner muscles ten times. Three months of doing kegels made it almost automatic. Larry would be in for a surprise the next time he had his cock in me. That should be tonight, I thought, recalculating the days from my last period. Tomorrow night for sure.

I had gone off the pill two months ago. I am not sure it even registered on him. I wondered if he would notice if I kept my legs elevated for a half hour after we made love. Probably wouldn't, I thought. He'd race off to take a shower like he always did. Am I that uninteresting? I wondered if some of the other things in the book would work on Larry. Would he like it if I talked dirty? Could I bring myself to talk dirty? It would certainly shock him. Me too.

I pulled out stockings to put on. Damn, my legs needed shaving again. I looked at the clock. No time to shave my legs.

Maybe things would have been different if I had kept my job. When we married I was working for an insurance company. I was pretty low on the totem pole. I didn't make much money, but with time I would have worked my way up. We could use the money. Larry had been insistent that I stop working. He didn't think it was good for his image at the law firm. I quit two years after we married. If the law firm wanted that image, that was fine, but then they should pay Larry more.

He thought he would make partner last year, and the year before, but he hadn't. Maybe this year and this deal would do it. I really shouldn't complain. We did all right financially. We just had to watch what we spent. Larry wasn't very good at watching what he spent. I think he took over the finances and paid the bills so I wouldn't know what he spent.

Still, I had enjoyed working. It was nice to have people recognize that you were more than a bubblehead. Earning the money made me feel like I was worth something. A couple of times some of the males in the office had flirted with me. Nothing serious, but it was a boost to a lady's morale.

Nobody had flirted with me in years. No sex appeal, I guess.

My sister was two years older and to hear her tell it, every man that came with 10 feet of her was hitting on her. I wonder if she was telling the truth. She did have a sort of easy way with men, and they responded to it. I remembered that at our cousin's wedding she had ended up with three men surrounding her, while I talked about landscaping with her boring husband. I snagged a run in one of the stockings, cursed, and rooted around in the suitcase to get another.

My sister thought Larry was having an affair. I didn't think so, but I wasn't sure. I worried when he worked late. His secretary seemed like just the sort that would have an affair with her boss. Blonde hair from a bottle, and she needed to gain ten pounds rather than lose any. She walked like a model, with her pelvis canting from side to side. She ought to have a drum playing when she walked. Boom, bam, boom, bam... I stood up. Experimentally, I tried walking with my hip cocking from side to side. I snorted at the image in the mirror. It looked like I needed to go to the bathroom badly.

I wondered how I would look as a blonde. For the umpteenth time I decided I would look like corroded brass. Blonde just wouldn't go with my skin tone. Maybe subtle auburn highlights in my hair, or perhaps if I frosted it? I'd ask Susie what she thought the next time she cut my hair.

Dinner that evening was with two of the accountants from the company. The men talked about tax structuring. Every dinner since we had arrived in Florida had been with somebody from the company. After dinner one of the them handed Larry a file folder.

When we got back to the motel, Larry walked in, took off his suit jacket, sat down at the little table in the motel room, and started looking at the papers in the folder. Thirty minutes later I fixed two drinks from the mini-bar, walked over and put one in front of Larry. Then I massaged his shoulders for a minute, bent down, and kissed the back of his neck.

"Thanks. But not now. I have to get these read and marked up."

I don't think that it was the brush off, so much as the way he did it, without even taking his attention off the papers. I was nothing, just an anonymous annoyance. Refusing my attentions was like saying he didn't want cream in his coffee. I tore into him. He snarled back, probably because he had been working so hard. In half an hour I was lying well over on my bed, my back to Larry, sniffling.

I wondered if he still loved me at all. At least he had promised to come back early tomorrow. We would have an evening together, just the two of us. Maybe we could have a nice dinner and walk on the beach. I thought how romantic it would be if we conceived a child on the beach. Romantic, but not very realistic. If I didn't have enough sex appeal to have Larry even look up at me, I doubted that he would risk getting sand in his swim suit.

The next morning, I shaved my legs, and went shopping. I found a nice little "Florida" outfit. "Little" was probably the operative word. It was downright skimpy. The white shorts were an inch longer than my crotch, and the lime green blouse had a deep "V" neckline. I worried that it would look like I was trying to be a teenager, but the sales girl talked me into it. I decided that in Florida it was obligatory to show a lot of skin. Besides, my legs were my best feature. The shorts certainly showed them off.

Maybe if I could get a little attention from other men, it would wake Larry up to his wife's charms. The shorts and blouse were not expensive, but I also bought a pair of wedge heel sandals with cute little seashells on the strap that went perfectly. They cost way more than sandals should. Well, Larry wouldn't see the Visa bill till the end of the month.

I took a nap when I got back to the hotel room. I was hungry, but decided I would skip lunch. The diet, I thought, starts now. A beauty sleep would be a lot better for me than lunch anyway.

At 2:00 I woke up to the phone. It was Larry. Something had come up about one of the branches offices 150 miles up the coast. He and one of the vice presidents were going to drive up there, have dinner with the manager, and he wouldn't be back till late, no need for me to stay up. "Sorry, hon. We'll just reschedule our little dinner for two for tomorrow night. No, wait, we are having dinner with the directors then. Friday night might work though."

I didn't argue with him. I didn't tell him of the time of the month. I didn't mention his now broken promise. I just said "fine", hung up, rolled over and burst into tears. I cried for the next half hour. I didn't know what I could do with him. It all seemed hopeless. I fell asleep.

I woke up at 7:30 with my stomach growling. I didn't want to get dressed and go to the dining room. I decided to go down to the pool and have a drink and a sandwich, a low cal sandwich, or maybe a fruit salad. My stomach growled again. It wanted a cheeseburger and fries.

I put on the new white shorts and the top. My tanned legs, I decided again, looked good in the shorts and the sandals. I looked at myself in the mirror. A little too "hot", I thought. I turned to the side and got a glimpse of tit. Maybe way too "hot". I substituted a brown floral blouse with a collar. I unbuttoned the top three buttons of the floral blouse in tribute to the plunging neckline top I was too shy to wear. My gold loop earrings went nicely with it. Good enough for the pool, I thought. I slipped my murder mystery in my purse and headed for the elevator.

The bar that opened out to the pool was crowded. All the tables in the pool area had been turned on their sides, a not so subtle way of saying that there was no more pool side service for the evening. The motel mostly catered to businessmen. They had been augmented in the bar by a group of locals. The locals apparently had stopped by for happy hour and stayed.

I sat down at the bar and ordered a pina colada. It tasted good. I wondered how many calories the pina colada had. Lots, I was sure. I had better skip the mayo on the turkey sandwich. When I asked the bar tender for the menu he informed me that they were short on help and had stopped serving food in the bar for the evening. I compromised on a second pina colada.

Across from me I had noticed a brunette perhaps 25 years old in shorts and halter top. Her legs were crossed and she was sitting sideways. She had been at the bar for about 10 minutes when one of the businessmen, in his fifties maybe, overweight, talked with her for a moment. They walked out together. I thought that they must know each other. They seemed a strange couple.

I ordered another pina colada and decided to forego anything else. I was a little tiddly. Up to the room for some TV, bed, and maybe some more crying seemed like a good idea. Since I skipped dinner I wondered whether I would be able to see any difference in the mirror. Not after three gazillion pina colada calories, I decided.

Another woman sat down at the bar, a young blonde, dressed in a short denim skirt, a tank top and deep red sandals. In a few minutes a man talked briefly with her. She shook her head. He left. Another man came up and spoke with her. She got up, leaving half of her drink, and went with him. Suddenly, I realized what I was seeing. These were prostitutes. I couldn't believe it. This had seemed like a respectable high end motel. The more I thought about it, the surer I was that they were prostitutes.

I wondered how much they were paid, and how many customers they had in a day. They didn't really seem tawdry as I had imagined a prostitute would. If I had worn the top with the plunging neckline, I wouldn't be dressed any more revealingly than they were. Maybe fashions had changed so all women seemed like prostitutes. The blonde had been there four minutes and two men had solicited her. Maybe, I thought, I should start wearing red sandals.

I finished the third pina colada. The bar tender noticed my empty glass and raised his eyebrow. I nodded, and he put a fourth pina colada in front of me. I knew I shouldn't drink this one, but I was soon sipping away at it and chomping on the basket of pretzels the bartender had brought over. Four gazillion pina colada calories and a few hundred in pretzels, and was that, yes, yes, it was, nuts mixed in with the pretzels. I rooted around in the nuts at the bottom of the basket, treasuring the occasional cashew.

The oh-so-efficient bartender noticed my rooting. He brought me a new basket and one final pina colada. I carefully paced the pina colada and the nuts so they would end at the same time. When I finished I was going up to bed. With this many drinks in me, I probably wouldn't even need to cry to get to sleep.

"Hey, there. You are looking good this evening"

The voice had a Southern accent to it, but more like Texas than Florida. The man was probably in his mid forties, tall, brown eyes, with a little grey in his light brown hair. He was wearing a light sports jacket over a dark knit shirt. He had slipped in between me and the next bar stool.

"Thanks." I couldn't think of what else to say. I was fuzzy. I knew it was time for me to go up to the room.

"Would $100 be enough for an hour of your time?"

I was confused. I didn't know what he meant. Then suddenly it dawned on me. He thought I was a prostitute. He was offering me a hundred dollars to go with him. My God, a hundred dollars. I had no idea prostitutes made that much. I had heard the phrase a "twenty dollar whore", but a hundred? How many customers would they go with in an evening?

I didn't know whether to be insulted and angry, or to be complimented that he thought sex with me was worth a hundred dollars. I wished Larry were here to hear this. Larry would never believe I had been solicited as a "lady of the evening". A hundred dollars? It was exciting.

I heard a voice, that couldn't be mine, because I know I hadn't intended to say it, "Two hundred. Two hundred dollars."

The man paused for just a second, and glanced at my legs.

"Alright, little lady. Two hundred it is. You look more than two hundred dollars worth of sexy."

He couldn't have said anything nicer. He thought I was worth two hundred dollars for an hour's romp in bed. Two hundred dollars of "sexy". Next time I ought to tell Larry the price was $200. No, $300 for Larry, because Larry was a difficult customer. I wondered how much the blonde had been offered. I grinned. Bet she hadn't been able to get a two hundred dollar offer.

I started to get up and tell the gentleman, that much as I appreciated his offer, I was not in the business. I was definitely woozy. I had not realized how big an impression on me the five pina coladas had made. The bar stool was on a little platform. One foot went over the edge, and I started to fall.

"Whoa", I felt two strong arms grab me, and lift me back up. "That step is a killer. Here, here is your purse."

I took the purse, and he supported me with his arm as we walked out and over to the elevators. I welcomed the support.

There were people in the lobby around the elevator. I would tell him that he had made a mistake when we got on the elevator. It sure wasn't the sort of thing to say in front of others. I hoped there wouldn't be a problem. He seemed polite. I didn't think there would be one. His arm felt good around my waist. He smelled faintly of some sort of aftershave.

We stepped onto the elevator. He punched a button. I turned to tell him. A Spanish looking waiter with a cart got onto the elevator. We waited in silence. The bell on the elevator rang and the doors opened. He walked me two doors down the hall, his arm down low around my waist. When he got out his key and put it in the lock, I knew I had to say something. This had gone way too far. How should I put this? He spoke first.

"Most women don't look better in the light, but you sure do. You're beautiful."

He leaned over and kissed me. At first gently, and then firmly. His arms pulled me up against him. He had a little bit of a gut, but I could feel that he was muscular when I put my arms on his. I kissed him back. He tasted a little bit of beer. I liked the firm way he held me. The kiss lengthened, and turned sexy. It made me feel good. Nervous, very nervous, but good.

He spoke, "That was a nice kiss. Its been a long time since I have had a kiss that nice."

He kissed me again. I let him. I kissed him back. I felt his tongue press against my lips. I tongued him back. I actually pressed my belly against him, feeling his cock. I rubbed against him a little bit. I wanted to make him hard. I wanted him to want me. I wanted to be sexy. No shame. I would tell him that this was a mistake in just a moment.

He gently led me into his room, closed the door, and we kissed once more. This time his hands were rubbing on my ass, pulling me up against him. I could feel his hardening cock distinctly, and I rubbed against it more. I realized with a little shock that I was turned on. I could feel my nipples tightening, connected by a little tendril of feeling to a similar tightening down in my belly. I suspected I was getting moist.

I had to tell him that this was enough, that I was here under false pretenses, but he was still kissing me and I was kissing him back. I found the thought that he would pay me two hundred dollars to sleep with him very exciting. I found his hardening cock very exciting. His hands rubbing my ass were exciting. The kisses were exciting. Whoa. This needed to end, now, I thought.

He stopped for a moment, drew his head back and looked at me. Not at my body, but at my face. He had a little mole on his cheek and those nice brown eyes, and his warm hands were on my rear.

"Wow, I think I hit the jackpot. You are one beautiful, sexy lady. Gorgeous."

I said nothing but the compliment warmed me. We kissed again, nicely. Then we kissed passionately, tonguing each other again, with him holding me against him, his hand still rubbing my ass. It felt good.

My hand slid up under his jacket and and onto his back. He kissed me more, his tongue pushing inside me, and my tongue meeting it. I didn't resist as he pulled me firmly against him. I could feel his cock pressing against my belly. It was hard and big, and erect. I had made it that way. With just kisses and my clothes still on. I thought briefly of my sister. I wondered if she could arouse a man this easily.

His hand rose up to the outside of my blouse and onto the edge of my breast. I turned slightly so that it came onto the front of my breast. I could feel it press and rub, and my nipple tighten. He was kissing me still.

His hand rubbed my breast more. He wasn't groping me. He was caressing my breast, and I welcomed it. I was sure I could feel my pussy getting wet. His hand brushed my hair back and he looked at me, then kissed me again, his hand still on my breast.

I think I decided then. I was going to have sex with this man. The alcohol let my arousal decide. I had no thought of Larry or my marriage, just that this man thought I was beautiful and wanted me. I wanted him.