© 2018, All rights reserved -- mimaster
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Ann was in an incredible mood as she drove down the winding road leading toward town. It was a beautiful late March morning, the unseasonable temperatures making it feel more like early summer. The sun was shining through the budding trees, the fractured beams hitting the car like a strobe light as she motored along. With the windows down, the aroma in the air smelt fresh and new, the rush of the car blowing her long curly mane.
She was singing along with the Janet Jackson cassette she'd gotten as a gift for her birthday the year before, her mind thinking about how her day had started and what lie ahead. The album had become one of her very favorites. So much so that she actually owned it twice. She played the cassette in the car, and she bought the CD to play on the new stereo that Neil had given her for Christmas.
There were many reasons she loved the album, but the biggest was that it reminded her of him... and sex. Whenever she was in the mood to fuck... to really, truly fuck, she'd put on the CD. It became like the bell for Pavlov's dog. She'd start the disc in the player and turn on the first track, turning up the bass so the thumping beat would resonate throughout the house. In turn, Neil would come running to her, practically drooling with a big hard-on in his pants, ready to pound her the way she wanted.
Okay, it wasn't that blatant, but she loved to think of him that way at times. Still, there was some truth to it. It never failed that if she put on the CD, he would come to her, a wry smile on his face as he'd see the provocative one on hers. And they'd always end up fucking wherever they'd meet up. That was the fun of it. If he'd find her in the kitchen, he'd take her there. If she happened to have made it to the bedroom, then that's where he'd capture her. There was even one time where they had bumped into each other in the hallway and he pressed her against the wall, pinning her there as he rammed his thick shaft deep inside her craving pussy.
One of her favorite songs was playing; she tapped the steering wheel, hugging the curves of the two-lane road, eyeing the pavement from behind her stylish sunglasses. The wind rushed through the open windows, flowing over her body as the sun warmed her skin. It felt incredible to be wearing so little after having to cover up all winter long. Stepping on the gas as she went up a steep incline, she took another curve, giggling to herself.
She was excited. It was something that happened pretty much every time she drove in to work at 'the brothel,' as she loved to think of it. While she hated to admit she was wrong about working at the bank, in truth it hadn't worked out like she'd hoped. She'd liked the job, and she loved some of the people she'd worked with, but the hours had made it hard on her marriage. And, the idea of working for someone she didn't respect made the decision easy for her.
Still, she'd been nervous about moving back into retail; fashion specifically. But Mary Ann, her new boss, made the transition easy for her. First, it wasn't like she had a boss at all. She was treated like a friend and was given a lot of leeway regarding hours and benefits. She also was looked upon for advice, which was something she hadn't expected.
Mary Ann had started a successful business, cultivating an idea and growing it into a thriving enterprise. She had a sound plan, and she'd worked hard to make something of it. But she was also a very shrewd businesswoman who was open to fresh new concepts. In fact, she sought them out.
Having someone like Ann working for her was a big change. She was used to having sales people that were more linear in their thinking, but Ann offered a perspective she wasn't used to. Ann had run a successful clothing store herself, and while she hadn't been the owner, she knew the pitfalls and obstacles that could get in the way of being profitable. She also had ideas for increasing sales, and for what would sell.
When Mary Ann had first approached and asked if she would consider working for her, Ann shied away. She didn't want to quit the job at the bank, because she felt that was a cop out. She'd never quit at anything she'd tried; and even though she had misgivings about what she was doing, there was a part of her that said she should stick it out because it was the right thing to do.
That all changed one fateful Saturday when Bernice, the woman who was likely going to end up as her boss in the near future, questioned her choice of attire yet again. The two went back and forth, and while she was proud that she stood up for herself, it seemed more than a coincidence that Mary Ann found her way to her drive-up teller window and asked, like she always did when she stopped by, if she had reconsidered her choice of vocation.
Ann could handle a lot of things, but feeling persecuted for wearing clothing she felt made her look attractive wasn't one of them. She loved dressing up, or even dressing down. She loved dressing for how she felt. It was something she'd done since she moved out on her own. She found her mood could affect how she dressed; and she also found there were times she could dress to change her mood. Clothes were a means to make her feel good about herself in many ways. The mere idea that someone with no sense of fashion or style would critique her wardrobe choices was something she couldn't stand.
It reminded her of the comments her mother would make when she was still living at home, and even after. Those comments that only stopped when Neil intervened, helping Jean to become more understanding, but he wasn't going to do that with Bernice. When she combined that feeling with all the other things that bothered her about the job, she took a hard look at her life once again. It came down to one burning question; if she was working when she didn't really have to, what was the point of doing it if she wasn't going to be happy?
Mary Ann's offer was amazing. Besides being paid more and actually getting benefits, her new boss went out of her way to accommodate her personal life. The hours were so flexible it was almost
too
perfect. And when she said that she wanted Ann to be a part of Henrietta's family, it was clearly an honest sentiment and not some trite way of trying to persuade her. Sunday morning, the day after they had met for lunch to discuss the job, she called her and said she'd be giving her two weeks' notice when she went back to work the following day.
What Ann hadn't considered was just how at home she'd feel there. Not only was it truly a family atmosphere, she found it to be an absolute blast. She felt not only welcomed, she was wanted and appreciated. Mary Ann went out of her way to include her, picking her brain, knowing for the first time that she had someone with a background in fashion sales to bounce ideas off of. She knew she had a gem in Ann, a woman so comfortable and confident in her life that she oozed sex appeal.
At the core of it, Ann had always enjoyed selling women's clothing. She took great pride in assembling outfits that brought out the individual beauty assets of each of her customers, and she quickly discovered there was something even more special about helping them find the perfect bedroom attire, or that special revealing dress for a romantic evening out. The atmosphere in the store was so charged, sexually and otherwise, she couldn't remember having so much fun while working. In truth, it didn't seem like work at all.
A lot of that had to do with the store itself. There was just something about the old home, and what it represented, that somehow appealed to her. She loved that it was once a home and that kids had been raised there. But she also loved that it had literally been used as a brothel for decades. That it had been transformed into a lingerie store that focused on tending the needs of those looking to spice up their sex lives only added to the charming history of the place.
When she'd wake up on those mornings when she'd head to the store, she found it hard not to think of herself as a working girl, most of that work being done on her back. She found herself daydreaming of being one of the girls at the brothel, living during a difficult time and having to sell herself to make ends meet. But she didn't see that as a negative. Much like what Henrietta had done low those many years before; she saw it as a wise business decision, using her brains and her beauty to get what she needed in order to survive.
There was something so erotic about that life to her. It didn't seem tawdry or cheap. It didn't concern her that she might have been shunned or ridiculed. Frankly, with her persona, she doubted it would have affected her.
She'd given the occupation a lot of thought. It started the time she'd pretended to be Barbara, the high-paid escort that spent the night with Neil. She'd done a lot of preparation for that night of role-playing, wanting the evening to seem as real as possible for both of them. Working at the store, she found herself thinking about it once again... and often.
Of course, it would have been a different than being an escort, but the similarities were there and the differences didn't change how she felt. She was strong and independent, and if she had had a child under those circumstances that Henrietta faced, forced with the thought of either being a prostitute or being homeless and broke, she could easily see herself coming to terms with the social stigmas placed upon her. While it might seem unpleasant and demeaning to some, she saw it as it was. It would have been sex, and she would have likely enjoyed her job just as much as the one she had now.
Yes, there was some romanticizing to her thought process. But everything she'd heard from her talks with Mary Ann and Camilla in the months she'd been working there made her feel even closer to the place. Camilla had only recently come to grips with the life her mother Bonnie and Grandmother Henrietta led, but she too had learned to appreciate the sacrifices they'd made so she didn't have to join the family business, so to speak. Be that as it may, Ann couldn't help but think that while it obviously wasn't easy, Henrietta's life likely wasn't as bad as many would make it out to be.
Mary Ann agreed, and said that one of the reasons was that Henrietta established early on that she wouldn't sleep with just anyone. They had to be clean, they had to be respectful, and they had to be successful in some way, shape or form.
"She didn't spread her legs for just any man with a few bucks and a penis," Mary Ann told her once, her voice mimicking how her great-grandmother would have said it. "She had too much self-respect to do that."
And it helped that most of the men who came calling at first knew her circumstances; how her husband had never returned home from the war, and how she had a child to support. As the business grew, and she hired on more girls, she kept the same credo. She reserved the right to refuse anyone she deemed as unworthy, and since it was her home and not just a place of business, it was easy to make those exceptions.
With the idea that she could be selective of those she slept with, Ann often found herself fantasizing of being one of Henrietta's girls. Just walking up the steps to the old creaky porch made her wet some days. That she got to spend her workday with thoughts of people having sex, what with the kinds of clothing she was selling, it made for some interesting days.
It frequently made for an interesting drive, the thought of going to work brightening her morning. The fact that she had awakened to a beautiful day only added to her arousal. She always seemed to be hornier in the spring, at least as far as traditional seasons were applied. There was something about being cooped up in the winter, and how all things started blooming when the weather got warmer. That and she didn't have to cover up as much. She felt like a flower about to burst open, ready to be pollinated. It was the perfect analogy considering how her pussy had been splayed wide-open just a couple of hours before she left for work.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Neil pulled into the driveway and backed into his parking spot. Tired, he found himself taking a few moments before he opened the car door. It had been a long night. He'd just started third shift, and even though he'd just finished his third day of his first week, he still hadn't quite adjusted yet.
It wasn't that it had been a difficult night. Production had actually been running smoothly for quite some time. He had spent the vast majority of the shift writing employee reviews, knowing he had several coming up in the next couple of weeks. So, he'd make a round to the machines once an hour and then head back to his computer to work on the evaluations.
Still, he was tired. The first week was always the hardest as he tried to adjust his sleeping pattern. As he gripped the wheel, his eyes closed. He hoped he'd finally be able to get some rest so he'd be feeling a little more normal.
It was a wonder he didn't drift off right there, finding himself relaxed for the first time in days. The nice breeze coming through the open window of his car felt good, and he pictured himself in a hammock on a weekend afternoon, swaying back and forth as he napped.
"I've got to get one of those," he sighed as he opened his eyes. Raising the window, he hit the button for the garage door and got out of the car, going into the house through that entrance like he did almost every day.
He heard the music thumping while he was still outside, the driving beat hitting him in the chest. It would have been hard not to hear it. Ann had her new stereo on, and she had it turned up rather loud. Plus, she had the windows open to let fresh air into the house. The heavy drums and bass were pounding out a rhythm, one that was all too familiar to him. Stopping in his tracks, he looked through the open front window, seeing her in the kitchen, slowly dancing as she cleaned up from her morning breakfast.
"Man... she is so incredible," he said as he stared at her like a Peeping Tom, enjoying her naked form as she grooved to her favorite CD. He felt himself getting hard, knowing what was in store for him once he walked inside. And if sex
wasn't
