The Fat And Happy Hooker Ch 01

Chapter One

I checked the mirror quickly. Hair good. Seams straight. Nothing in my teeth.

Looking pretty good I took the three steps to the entrance to the restaurant and made my appearance. Well, when you're 5'9" in bare feet, a little over 6' in the 4" heels I had on, with 54-inch hips a 48-inch waist a special ordered 52GG bra, and tip the scales at 348 this morning you always make an appearance.

I looked across the restaurant and Jacob, my client, stood and waved. I took three steps and stopped.

In the profession (yes, I'm a prostitute - a hooker - a whore - or as I like to think of it, a very well compensated companion) I rarely get surprised anymore but this did surprise me.

Jacob was not alone. He had a woman with him.

I regained my composure, hoping I didn't look too silly, and closed the remaining distance between us. We shared a quick kiss and then he did that slight bow and arm wave to indicate I should sit in the booth opposite him and her.

I sat and gave him what I hoped was my best speculative look.

"Okay Jake," I said, making sure to shorten his name like I knew he hated, "what's all this?" and I nodded in the direction of the woman.

He smiled and said "Mandy," I'm Samantha, Sammee to the world and Mandy to my clients, "meet my wife Marta."

I barely managed a weak "uh-huh" and then took the hand she extended across the table.

"And again," I said, "what's up?"

"It's my idea," Marta said, "I hope it's okay."

I turned my gaze from Jacob to her and said "Okay Mart, what's up."

She giggled, a very high girlish sound, completely out of place from her broad mature face.

Sometimes the double negative is essential, no matter what your grammar teacher told you in 7th grade. She was not unattractive. Her thick black hair showed delicate lines of silver, quite striking. She was a slightly plump, round-faced woman with wide-set brown eyes, heavy eyebrows that really needed the attention of some tweezers, small ears, a slightly bulbous nose, a generous mouth with full, sensuous lips, and a very nice smile.

But she didn't say anything.

"Mart," I said, shortening her name as I had with Jacob's, "here's the deal. Either answer me or I'm out of here."

She blushed and took a deep breath.

"I don't think I'm satisfying Jacob and I know he's not satisfying me," she said and the blush got redder a little as she went on, "you know, sexually."

"I see," I said, and I thought I actually did. "And what do you have in mind for me?"

"I'm not sure," she said, blushing a little more, "Teaching? Counseling? Direction?" The question marks were clear in her intonations.

I stayed silent.

Waiting her out.

"You know," she said, "all the jokes about Jewish women?"

"Tell me," I said.

"Oh gosh," she said, "like what is Jewish foreplay."

I waited.

"Four hours of begging," she provided the punchline.

"Or," she went on, warming up to it now, "how a normal girl eats a banana," and she mimed holding the banana in her left hand, peeling it four times with her right, and then bringing it to her mouth.

"How a Jewish girl eats a banana," and, again, the peeling but then her right hand going behind her head miming pushing it down onto the banana which made me giggle a little.

"Okay," I said, "you've piqued my curiosity. Let's eat and talk."

I ordered the Surf and Turf special that I knew was good in this restaurant. Jacob ordered a T-bone and Marta, I wasn't surprised to see, ordered a Chef's salad.

"You do know," I couldn't help saying, patting my own ample belly, "that there are plenty of men, your husband included, who think women should be soft and round."

She smiled and said, "Mandy, with my metabolism, if I don't watch my diet pretty carefully I'd be much bigger than you are."

And so we talked. I actually knew Jacob pretty well. He had been a regular client, about once a month, for a couple of years. I liked him and it was easy money. Just straight-up dates with happy endings.

Marta turned out to be an interesting and witty conversationalist. We talked of many things, but mostly her, what she called her "Jewish problem." Which, when you got down to it was simple inhibition.

"So," I said, "when you get down to it you're a bit inhibited."

She giggled and blushed and said, "I guess so at that."

"Wellllllllllllll," I said, deliberately drawing out the consonant, "have one of these with dessert," and I reached into my purse and took out the little Altoids tin in which I kept a few marijuana gummies, just in case.

"What's this?" they asked more or less in unison.

"Do you trust me?" I replied.

"You're not supposed to answer a question with a question," Marta said.

I just repeated, "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," Jacob said firmly.

"Yes," Marta said although a little more weakly.

I giggled and said "it's okay honey. Just a blend a grower friend and I worked up specifically to work on inhibitions. It comes in handy in my line of work."

"Grower?" Marta asked.

"Yes," I said, "it's just pot honey, but edible."

"Oh God," she giggled, popping the gummy into her mouth, "I smoked pot a couple of times in college."

I smiled.

"Oh Marta, trust me, this is way more potent than what you smoked," I said.

I popped my own gummy as dessert came, coconut cream pie for me, apple pie for Jacob, and a chocolate sundae for Marta. I figured she wasn't fanatical about dieting.

I smiled and said, "let's have an after-dinner drink and let my magic gummies work.

When I felt that special itching behind my eyes I knew the pot was taking hold.

I met Marta's eyes across the table and she burst into giggles.

"Oh yeah," I said, smiling, "I think you're ready."