My Second Piece of Ass

Laura was disappointed with the conduct of the four brothel girls. We had invited them into our home to celebrate Thanksgiving and they had viewed it as an opportunity to turn tricks. Never captious, Laura didn't blame the girls for taking advantage of the situation. What distressed her was the possibility that the behavior of the girls had raised the suspicions of Sylvia, our next door neighbor and one of our few respectable friends.

At first Laura accused me of shirking my responsibilities. According to her I had failed to control the girls. But when she saw that I was ignorant as to what had taken place, the girls had set up business right under my nose, Laura held herself culpable.

"It hasn't been too long ago that I would have done the same," she admitted.

'I don't believe that. You wouldn't go into someone's house where you had been invited to spend a holiday and take the first guy you saw into the bedroom for a blowjob."

Laura's look told me that I was being naïve. "You didn't know me back then," was her retort.

We talked about the mistakes we had made in trying to deceive the people we called our friends. Would Sylvia accept us as we really were? Would Lacy gloat and say she knew all along that we had attempted to mislead her about our relationship and Laura's past.

Regardless of what Sylvia knew or didn't know Laura was determined to tell all. I tried to convince her that Sylvia may have seen nothing but I couldn't reason with her. It was dark and cold when she left our back door to talk to Sylvia. When she returned a few minutes later she was cold and shaken. The shock I saw on Laura's face was new to me. I had never seen her lose her composure.

We went to bed and Laura related what she had seen. Laura hadn't stayed long. All she had witnessed was Sylvia bent over the sink with Davie ramming her from behind.

"You're obsessing on the size of Sylvia's tits," I quipped.

"Don't say that," Laura tried to quell me and I knew I had hit a soft spot. It was totally uncharacteristic for her to be squeamish about any topic, especially one pertaining to sexual acts. From the way she was squirming, touching me, rubbing my chest, moving to the other side of the bed and then coming back to me I knew something was awry.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I wanted to explore whatever it was that had her so wrought up. I wasn't going to let up.

"How can I face her? I'll have to tell her what I saw."

"Do you want me there? As a buffer in case you stall out?"

"Would you?"

I had never known Laura to be indecisive or tentative before. She never sidestepped an issue. I knew she wanted to end the charade with Sylvia but for some reason it was too much for her to tackle alone. Having her accept my offer to help was gratifying.

"Do you want to show me what you saw?"

"I didn't see that much but we could improvise," she offered, excitedly hopping out of bed.

Laura drove me to work the next morning so she could use my car for the day and we put off the meeting with Sylvia until we could be together.

I was surprised to see everyone show up for work on time. I guess we were excited about beginning the demolition project.

I spoke to Charles, telling him I was in no condition to handle a power tool. Laura had kept me busy until the wee hours, re-enacting the scene she had briefly witnessed in Sylvia's kitchen.

And judging from the appearance of the others I doubted if they should be entrusted with a tool attached to a cord either.

Charles looked around and agreed with me. Jimmy was alert of course and Eric looked like he had had a good night's rest but the four college guys were dressed in the same clothes from the day before, sheepish grins on their faces. Davie had the appearance of having been strained through a funnel. We stumbled around, stacking items of value in neat piles and carrying debris to the dumpster. Jimmy's sledge hammer and Eric's power saw kept us busy. We were all happy when five o'clock arrived.

Laura was in good spirits when she picked me up. All four girls had phoned to apologize for their behavior. She laughed as she recounted the various reasons given for their conduct. Laura surmised the reason for the calls but it was Kelley who unwittingly betrayed the others. "Please don't ship us away. We like it here Laura," she said, pleadingly.

Also, she had visited the library and made an appointment with Sylvia for that evening. She proudly related how she had fearlessly walked up to Sylvia's desk and requested a meeting, specifying the time.

"Sounds like you won the coin toss and opted to kick off," I observed as we rang Sylvia's doorbell.

"What do you mean?"

"Sylvia got home field advantage. Meeting at our house would give us the edge."

"Oh, I've got the advantage. You're with me," Laura boasted as the back door opened and Sylvia invited us in.

By the time we finished eating and the table had been cleared I was falling asleep in my chair. But Laura's blunt admission got my attention.

"Sylvia, I've.....well, we've been deceiving you and I....well, we want to set things straight. I didn't accidentally sit on a cigarette and burn a hole in my butt. A man did it to me intentionally when I refused to let him stick his prick in my ass."

Shock struck Sylvia but only for a moment. "I'm so sorry Laura. That must have been a traumatic time for you. But I have something I need to tell you too."

"Wait, there's nothing you could say that would rival what I'm about to tell you. The man that did that to me was paying me for sex. I'm a whore. I've been one since I was eighteen. That's what I've been hiding from you."

"She not!" I butted in. "She was but she's not now. She's out of the business."

Neither of my companions was paying attention to me. Sylvia's mouth was open and her eyes shut. She shook her head in disbelief, opened her eyes without changing her expression. Laura watched, waiting for a reaction. It didn't come.

It was a standoff. The two women remained silent, Sylvia looking down at the table, Laura watching, expressionless.

"She's not a whore," I repeated, wanting to stir some response from Sylvia. She looked at me, languorously, her eyes glazed and her lips quivering.

"I know she isn't." Sylvia looked adoringly at Laura as if she wanted to believe me and her own instincts.

"Those things I told you about my job," Laura continued. "When I told you I traveled, that was true. I traveled to be with clients but not as an accountant. The clients were men I accompanied for a weekend or sometimes longer. I serviced them and they paid me well. I do the books for the brothel where I worked but I'm not an accountant."

Silence followed Laura's speech. She watched Sylvia who was staring into space.

Minutes passed. I became anxious. "The girls called to say they are sorry for how they carried on yesterday." Neither Laura nor Sylvia seemed to hear me.

"I never met anyone like you before," Sylvia broke the spell.

"A whore? Is that that you mean? Go on, you can say it, 'I've never met a whore before.' Well, you met five of us yesterday," Laura said, menacingly. I held my breath, glad that Laura hadn't revealed Nadine's past.

"That isn't what I meant to say," Sylvia answered, speaking clearly and evenly. "I've never met anyone like you before. You didn't have to tell me about your friends or yourself. I'll admit I was curious about their coarse demeanor but I never dreamed they were prostitutes. If you were concerned that I would hear something and think the worst about you, you are wrong. Please Laura, give me some credit. I would have said they were wrong. I never suspected."

The two women were staring at one another, teary eyed. Laura rose and Sylvia joined her. They embraced.

I sat and watched and listened as they went on, Sylvia scolding Laura for making the admission about her past, telling her it had not been necessary and Laura thanking her for being a good friend.

"My life's an open book now," Laura boasted as the two women took their seats again. "I'll never try to hide my past again. If there is anything you want to know, please ask. Guys always wanted to know how I first went astray. They seem fascinated with how a girl can decide to sell her body. Randy knows. He has heard it all and if you ever want to hear it, well, like I say, from now on my life's an open book."

"Sometime," Sylvia choked on the word, her head dipped again, her eyes downcast. "I have something to tell you too."

"First," Laura interrupted, "there's more. I have one more confession to make." "No wait," Sylvia was suddenly animated, wanting to be first to disclose her own secret. She briefly looked my way but it was as if I was not there. "Last night, last night I did something that....Davie was here and we...."

"That's exactly what I wanted to tell you. I saw," Laura interrupted, making Sylvia's jaw become slack and her eyes look like they would pop out of her head.

"You saw? You were here?" Sylvia's voice crackled with a combination of fear and disbelief.

"I didn't mean to. I came over to talk, to explain about the girls and I was going to tell you about my past. I didn't stay long, only long enough to see that you were busy." With this Laura broke up. She winked at me. Her mood changed from morose to wicked merriment. Her confessions had done wonders; it was as if a giant load had been lifted from her shoulders.

Laura no longer needed me there but I wanted to stick around. Poor Sylvia, now I needed to be there for her.

"I don't know what came over me," Sylvia started and then stopped, too embarrassed to continue.

"You don't need to explain to us," I tried to console her.

"No, not to us," Laura said before she collapsed in a fit of laughter.

I took Sylvia by the hand and led her to the other side of the kitchen. "Don't pay any attention to her. Deceiving you was hard on her. She's relieved that she has told you and you took it so well," I whispered in Sylvia's ear and noticed it was crimson, like her cheeks. She was shaking and I had to support her.

Laura came to join us and the three of us huddled, talking softly, reassuring one another. But as sympathetic as Laura tried to be towards Sylvia, her mood kept us in a constant state of hilarity. Each time we had Sylvia calmed down and feeling better about her self, Laura would make a remark to reverse it.

"I didn't see very much. But what I saw got me hot. Ask Randy. I went home and made him bend me over the sink."

This sent Sylvia's body into a spasm. It took us several minutes to settle her down.

For the next thirty minutes Sylvia held her hands over her ears and made cooing sounds as we took turns making remarks about what Laura had seen, how hot it had made her and what we had done to cool her down. We tried; at least I tried, to wait until Sylvia regained her composure before launching another salvo.

"At least Davie was using contraception. That must be a comfort to you," Laura inserted just as one of Sylvia's sniffles subsided. This was a fabrication. Laura had said nothing about seeing signs of contraception and I knew she would not have left out such a detail.

"That's just it," Sylvia said, lapsing into something indiscernible. I thought I heard, "not the first time," but I wasn't sure.

"How many times did you do it?" Laura inquired. She must have heard, "not the first time," I thought.

"Three, I think," Sylvia answered, thoughtfully. "But he used a condom after the first time. I know he did."

"Three at the sink? I only got Randy to do me once there? Laura lamented.

"No. Only that first time at the sink. The other times were in bed. I don't know what came over me." Sylvia was becoming quite conversational about her night with Davie, surprising me.

"Sylvia, this will be the last question because Randy needs to get some sleep tonight. It's personal but I would like for you to answer it if you can. It looked to me that Davie is really hung. Can you confirm that?"

"You're very observant Laura. You saw correctly," Sylvia responded and we all knew that she had caught on to our little game. Laura had told me she had seen nothing except Sylvia's tits swaying like an empty hammock in a breeze.

As we approached the back door Sylvia was watching from the kitchen, probably to make sure we were really leaving. We waved goodnight, our friendship with Sylvia still in tact. Nothing else mattered.

We decided that our true friends would stick by us and we would need to let the others fall by the wayside. One thing was certain; there would be no more attempts to deceive.

The demolition project went better on Saturday. We made noticeable progress. Laura took me to work again, and then came to pick me up, reminding me that we had been invited to Ollie's car lot to shop for a car. Two days of physical labor had left me with sore muscles and a desire to sleep. Laura took one look at me. "I've got just what you need." This perked me up until I found out she was talking about a hot bath. She threw in a rub down which made it worthwhile and I was ready to go.

When we stopped at the stoplight across the street from Ollie's Used Car Lot I expected Laura to cringe and hide her head like the first time we had stopped there but she sat up in her seat and peered around, unaffected. I think she knew of my concern.

The reception at the car lot was quite different from the last time I was there. It was easy to find a place to park. Rosita walked the lot with us, anxious to find a car that suited Laura. The trouble with Ollie's cars was that they were all too big. He had always specialized in luxury American-made cars with large engines and low gas mileage. We were about ready to give up when I spotted a pick-up truck parked next to the back fence. It looked like it had seen its better days but I saw possibilities. New tires and a new front bumper would do wonders for the appearance. The engine sounded fine and the breaks worked. We stuck a deal. Laura would take my car and I would be the proud owner of a beat-up truck.

Rosita and Laura were like old chums together. They chatted amiably, whispering at times, and even disappeared while I waited for the paperwork to be completed.

When I returned to school Laura assumed the majority of my duties with the company. She agonized over the plans for the new structure, wanting the Waite Home for Woman to be perfect in every respect. She worked tirelessly, learning the business and finding ways to make customers come back and employees contented with their jobs.

I was able to devote more time to school. The weeks flew by and when summer vacation arrived I had to spend the first week catching up with where Laura had taken the company. I wanted to give her a vacation but she rejected the offer, saying she was too busy making interior selections for the home, flooring, wall covering and furniture.

"You better learn to cook," she chided me. This was her way of telling me she would be moving to her apartment on the first floor of the home as soon as it was ready for occupancy. We both knew I was the better cook.

"Who are you taking to Huley's wedding?" This was her way of suggesting that I seek female companionship, subtly telling me she would not be sharing my bed much longer.

"You?" We had received individual invitations with a provision for each of us to bring a guest. I did not return the R.S.V.P. because Jake Trainer had asked me to be an usher. They knew I was coming.

"Alright, you can tag along if you want but I warn you, I'll be sitting with someone else."

A bolt of current entered my chest and gave me a jolt. "Who?" That's all I could get out.

"Rosita asked me to sit with her. She needs someone to cry on."

"Oh," I murmured, relieved that she wasn't taking some male she had met but blaming her for how the invitation read. It had to be a scheme to make me take a date. It was just another in a series of hints that I should get out on my own. We drove to the wedding together but separated at the church door.

All the Petersen relatives were there, except Ollie of course. Rosita had filed for divorce but it was not yet final. Petri wouldn't speak to me. She was still mad at me for what I had to do with her father's disappearance. So I hooked up with one of the other bride's maids, a friend of Huley's. Alice was a tall girl with red hair and an ex-boyfriend that dominated our conversation.

"Did you use my bed?" Laura said the next day, accusingly.

"No, of course not," I answered. "We slept in the other room."

"Oh good. I'm sorry I snapped at you but you know how I am about that bed, don't you, honey?"

Laura had come to me when the bride and groom were being sent off, saying she was going home with Rosita because the house would be empty and Rosita would need company. I wondered where Petri was going to sleep but didn't bring it up.

I invited Alice home for the night and she accepted. We got down to her panties and my shorts before she broke into tears, cursing her ex-boyfriend. She put her bra back on. We sat at opposite ends of the bed, talking about how she had been wronged until we fell asleep. The next morning we went to breakfast and I took her home, wishing her well.

I let Laura assume that Alice and I had slept together, hoping it would get her off my back about my need to date other women. In actuality, Alice's tits hadn't turned me on.

When the Waite Home for Woman was ready we used the truck to move Laura's desk to her new quarters on the first floor. She said that was all she wanted from our house, leaving the king sized bed in her room for when she came to stay the night with me. "For when I need an R and R, as long as you'll have me," she quipped.

Woman who had worked in Judge Waite's brothel were located and offered a room at the home. As Laura became busy with the day to day operation of the home her overnight visits to my bed became less frequent. We worked together professionally, becoming more and more like siblings as our personal relationship tapered off.

Our lives were changing. She was dedicated to her work at the home and her efforts were rewarded. Women were flocking to the Home and we started the first of several expansions. Our business prospered.

But every parting was more difficult than the last. I objected to her leaving and put up roadblocks. I acted childish, threw tantrums and proposed marriage twice before realizing it was making Laura crazy. I hated it when I made her cry.

When the fiftieth woman came to make her home at the Waite Home, Laura invited newspapers to publish articles describing the purpose of the home. Each of the articles ended with a sentence written by Laura. Like the inmates, the director is a former prostitute.

We attended Sylvia's wedding together and had a good time. "I'm not taking you to any more weddings," I warned her on the way home. Laura, in one of her demented reckless moods, whispered in Davie's ear, "I watched you the night you bent Sylvia over the sink. I noticed you weren't wearing a condom, shame on you."

"I just love to tease Sylvia," Laura laughed. "She'll spend the entire honeymoon explaining to Davie how I was privy to that little bit of their history."

She worried about me, always tucking little notes in places where I would find them, bolstering my confidence with praise. She encouraged me to date and applauded me when I did.

Still she came back to spend nights with me, giving herself willingly with never a hint that she was merely doing her duty. Her unspoken love for me was overwhelming.

"I'm just being sisterly," she would say with a wink and a smile as she left, well before dawn.

But when my fortunes changed Laura stepped aside for good in her sisterly, loving way.

[Here ends the series. My thanks for the help, support and encouragement I've received from the many who have hung with me. Chapter 33, the Epilog wraps up a few loose ends.]