My Loving Family

Synopsis: Sarah is recruited by her boss to serve both as a receptionist and as the company "entertainer" or, as she expressed it, "the company whore." Her first "date" with the man she had met on the train was very successful.

Part II -- Sarah's Story

Chapter Six

Three months went by before Mr. Bose again summoned me to his office. "A Mr. Anderson may call this evening asking if you'd join him for dinner. Here's another $400 to cover your overhead. Take the rest of the day off."

Just like that. As I turned away from his desk, he stopped me. "I didn't mean to be rude, Miss Kincaide. It's just that I have other things on my mind at the moment, and you should know that Mr. Anderson will play a central role in a very important project. Be nice to him."

Back to the beauty salon and then to my friend in the dress shop. She remembered me and inquired about my date. I reported that the dress she had helped me select had led to a very hot evening.

She smiled. "What are you looking for today?"

"Something a little more sedate; the sort of thing I could wear to the office; something a bit daring, but only a little."

She rummaged for a moment through a nearby rack. I noticed it was a rack of size sixes. "I'm an eight," I reminded her.

Ignoring me, she held up a darling little dress in what looked like crushed velvet. It was a dark green with gold flecks. "Something like this? I think this would be super with your coloring."

I nodded, and carried the dress into a dressing room. Oh, oh! She was right about the color. It had a very flattering bust line and seemed appropriate for the office, except that it was way, way too short.

I almost changed back into my street clothes, but decided to show the clerk how it fit and how very short the skirt was. Instead of shaking her head, however, the clerk gave me a wide grin and clapped her hands. "Perfect! First try and we have a winner!"

"I couldn't possibly wear a dress as short as this one."

"Why not? That's the style these days. If you think this dress is short, you should see some of the junior styles. Even I wouldn't wear some of them. But this one is perfect for you. Not every woman your age could wear it, but you have the figure and legs for it."

"Not every woman my age? Just how old do you think I am?"

The clerk blushed, and stammered, "Ahh, I didn't mean it the way it sounded . . ." she began, but seeing how discomfited she was, I decided to let her off the hook. "I'm only 25," I said.

"Yes, well, I was still thinking about the juniors, I guess. I'm sorry I misspoke. Forgive me?" She smiled appealingly.

"Of course," I said. "You're sure this dress isn't too short?"

"It's fine," she said earnestly. "Trust me; it's my business to know fashion and style, and I certainly would do nothing to embarrass a repeat customer."

That 'repeat customer' business convinced me. "OK, I'll buy it. what about accessories?" "Well, you'll want to see Frank again for a pair of shoes. Just remember that while the first dress you bought emphasized your bust, this dress features your legs. When you're talking to Frank, show him the material and lift your skirt to approximately the same height as the one on this dress so he can help you chose the most flattering shoes."

I returned to my silent apartment shortly after five. Then I went to my babysitter's apartment and collected Nonnie. I also asked Sherrill if she would be available that evening to babysit.

All the while, of course, and especially while I was relaxing in a bubble bath (with the phone within easy reach), I reflected on my new assignment. I had known what to expect with Jack, of course, but this Mr. Anderson was only a name. As I speculated about the evening ahead, again it occurred to me that I was well on my way to becoming a one-girl escort service.

I was trying to decide how I felt about that when the phone suddenly rang. It startled me. The noise seemed especially loud in the confines of my tiny bathroom. I let it ring twice before I picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Is this Miss Kincaide?"

"Yes"

"You don't know me, but my name is Paul Anderson. I'm at loose ends here in Winnipeg, but a friend gave me your number and suggested I call and see if you would be agreeable to having dinner with me."

Should I be coy and ask the name of his friend? I was sure a professional escort would, but did I want to sound like a professional? On the other hand, I didn't want to sound simple, either. "Could you tell me, Mr. Anderson, who gave you my number?"

"I don't want to mention names, but he's a partner in a local investment company. He said you'd know who it was."

"What did you have in mind, Mr. Anderson?"

"I thought perhaps we could meet downtown at Brown's. I've never been there, but the concierge here in the hotel recommended it. He said he thinks I can still get reservations since this is a week night. Will you join me? We could meet in the cocktail lounge, say around 7:30? I promise I don't bite!"

"How will I recognize you?"

"I'm a big guy with blonde hair. I'll be wearing a red tie, and I'll be on the lookout for a beautiful woman standing uncertainly at the entrance to the lounge."

"All right, 7:30 it is."

Although I had gone on the pill after my date with Jack, I still slipped a few condoms into my bag while giving last minute instructions to Sherrill. A girl can't be too careful.

Paul Anderson turned out to be an amiable dinner companion. He was an older man -- when I saw him in a stronger light, he appeared to have at least as much gray as yellow in his hair. As he had said, he was a big man. If I had to guess, I might have thought he had been a college athlete now gone somewhat to seed.

He was, however, a more than satisfactory lover, although we didn't reach the heights of passion I had shared with Jack or, earlier, with Graham. When I say more than satisfactory, I still had little to compare him with, but he was gentle and loving, and genuinely concerned that he not hurt me. But I'm getting ahead of my story.

After a truly delicious dinner in a restaurant where my menu was innocent of a price schedule, he asked if I'd like to go dancing "to work the dinner off," as he expressed it. After I nodded my accent, he flagged a cab, and we rode back to his hotel.

It was difficult to control the hem of my short skirt as we sat in the cab, but somehow I felt reassured when he leaned over and whispered, "I think you have the most beautiful legs I've ever seen; why struggle to keep them covered? Relax, you're among friends."

Later, in the hotel ballroom, I caught a glimpse of myself in a hall mirror and silently thanked the girl in the dress shop. My legs did look damned good! We each had a couple of drinks and danced for perhaps a half hour, when Paul -- we had gotten on a first name basis almost from the beginning -- casually asked, "Would you like to go upstairs?"

I wish I could have responded with something off hand like "To see your etchings?" Instead, I merely smiled and nodded. He led the way to the elevators and ushered me into a car. This was nothing like my earlier elevator ride with Jack. His overt display of passion amounted to nothing more than simply holding my hand until we were inside his room. Then he lifted my hand, and in a supremely erotic gesture, licked my palm.

I felt that familiar tingle in my vulva, and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling his head down so I could show him an erotic trick or two, myself.

However, he straightened up. "Let's sit in the easy chair," he suggested, leading me to the corner. He sat and pulled me down on his lap. I felt like a little girl at first, but when I felt his hand under my skirt on my bare thigh, I sat up and began to undo his tie.

We slowly undressed each other, caressing and kissing each bit of newly revealed skin until it was time to get naked. I stood and allowed my dress to fall from my shoulders, carefully stepping out of it and draping it over a chair. While I was releasing my bra, he had his shoes off, and was stepping out of his trousers which he neatly laid over the back of the same chair.

Then as I slid my thong down over my hips, he pulled his briefs down. Although he was only partly erected, his penis seemed huge! I certainly had never seen one that large before, and I couldn't imagine being able to accommodate it!

He held his arms out and I gladly hugged myself tightly to his nearly hairless body. "Don't worry, darling," he said, "I won't hurt you. Sit down in the chair."

This was a new one. He stood before me, then parted my knees, sank to his knees between mine, and leaned forward. Another first! I knew what he intended to do, but I had never experienced cunnilingus. When the tip of his tongue touched the seam between my thighs, I thought I might explode!

He was an artist. He brought me to the very edge of orgasm a dozen times, each time with a building intensity, then backed away. Finally, when I could take no more, when sparks were flying in all directions, when all I could think of was the aching void between my thighs, he slid back to the bed and laid on his back.

His erection was huge, but I was so desperate for the solace I knew it would bring that I recklessly straddled his body, crouching almost over his chest as I lifted it and placed it at the entrance to my vagina. Then I pressed back against it, literally skewered myself, a fraction of an inch at a time, then pulling forward and back again, a little further each time until at last I sat upright on his groin, his mammoth penis -- I'm sure it was the size of a three-cell flashlight -- buried deep inside me.

After waiting for a few moments, savoring the incredibly full feeling I had, I began to move. Slowly at first, but with increasing enthusiasm, I raised and lowered myself on his enormous erection. He began raising himself to meet my downward plunge, and suddenly a haze settled over my eyes and I nearly lost consciousness. Then I felt his strong arms holding me in an upright position as he continued moving within me. That familiar tidal wave washed over me again and again and again.

He gripped my hips and thrust himself up once again, this time holding me still. I felt his urethra contract and then his whole penis seemed to come alive convulsing and spasming as he bathed my insides with his hot seed.

I was a wreck. I was utterly, completely satiated, and limp as a cooked noodle. After resting on his chest for a time while he gently stroked my hair and sweaty back, he said, "Let me draw you a bath. I promise, you'll feel better. I felt fine, but I just couldn't seem to find the energy to move. Paul gently rolled us to our sides and I felt his softening penis begin to slide out of me. "Oh, no," I said as I tried to recapture it with the muscles in my labia. But I was too late. As it came out, our broken connection made a curious sucking sound.

After my bath and a halfhearted effort to do something with my hair, I dressed and Paul led me down to the lobby and on to the taxi stand. "Can I call you the next time I'm in Winnipeg?" "Oh, yes! Please do," I said eagerly. "Thank you for a wonderful evening -- all of it." **********

I don't mean to bore you with a blow by blow recital of the clients I "entertained" for Bose, Rothchild and Gibbons over the years, but I got quite good at it. In fact, to be honest, I found I was enjoying it, an appetite that would cause difficulties later.

At first, Mr. Bose put me in a small office near his where my principle duty was to respond to his buzzer with a sheaf of papers. He insisted that I wear hose and very short skirts. The bras I chose were cut out over my nipples, leaving them bare under my dress.

Whenever he buzzed, I knew he wanted to show me off to a client, so I made a production of leaning over his desk so his visitor would see my skirt rise to expose the backs of my thighs all the way up to the dark band at the top of my hose. This didn't happen often; perhaps on average, only once or twice a month. But when it did, I always felt the heat of sudden arousal when I heard the buzzer. I would pinch my nipples before entering Mr. Bose's office so they were prominently displayed through my dress. If the client looked interesting, I sometimes leaned even further, making sure a tiny strip of bare skin above my hose was visible. I'm certain the other partners knew what was going on; our office wasn't that large. Mr. Bose finally promoted me to the personnel office, but I continued to serve as the company whore. And then Willie called.

I had wondered how she had fared with Nels after returning to the farm, but I hardly expected to hear from her again so soon. "Sarah, I've just got to get out of here before Nels finds that I'm gone. The train's going to leave for Winnipeg in less than an hour. I don't have any money. Is there any way you can arrange for tickets for me and my daughter from your end?"

I was more shocked by the desperation in Willa's voice than her message. "Certainly, dear," I had said. "Consider it done. The tickets should be there in ten minutes." I quickly hung up and called the CNR ticket office, explaining the urgency for the tickets and giving them a credit card number.

The following morning, Willie called again, this time from the local train station. I told her to wait; that I would come get her, and I did. I'm sure her daughter, Ruthie, was surprised to see her mother greet another woman like a long lost lover because, indifferent to the curious stares of others standing nearby, we happily hugged one another and exchanged lover's kisses. Then we collected their meager baggage, and I led the way to my car in the parking lot.

Willa sat next to me as I drove to my apartment. She was exhibiting an array of emotions from gratitude to something very close to shame. Consequently, little of what she had to say made much sense.

Once inside my apartment, I showed Ruthie to Nonnie's room so she could watch TV while her mother and I sat in the living room sharing a bottle of wine as she unburdened herself.

Naturally, I was very curious about the obvious urgency of her visit, so I moved next to her on the couch with my arm around her as she told me, between sobs and gasps, how Nels had raped her, and how she had run away.

"You're here, now, dear. You're safe. He can't hurt you again, but you can make things very serious for him!"

Willa shook her head. "If I have him put in jail, what have I gained? My son chose to stay with him, but the boys and I alone cannot operate that farm. I'll just have to get even some other way."

I was relieved to see a small smile cross her face, and rewarded her with a tender kiss.

"I'll have to find a place for us," Willa said.

"Nonsense. You have a place right here."

"Oh, no. We couldn't impose."

"I can't imagine why you'd think this was an imposition. I'll have to find another bed for Ruthie, but there is plenty of room for her in Nonnie's room. But to keep up appearances, we might have to begin looking for a bigger apartment."

I watched her closely to gauge her reaction to the possibility that we might sleep together. She sighed as a child might, and seemed to relax even more in my arms. I had my answer, and bent to give her a soft kiss.

That afternoon, after Nonnie came home from school, she seemed pleased to learn that she had a new little sister, although there were only three years between them. I had gone out to a surplus store and picked up a folding cot and mattress for Ruthie. After supper, the girls disappeared into their room and I was happy to hear occasional giggles and exclamations of surprise and wonder as they exchanged teenage confidences and secrets. That night was also a special occasion for we two adults. I made up a bed for Willa on the couch, mostly for appearance's sake, and then, after another bottle of wine to relax us both, we retired to my room.

Once inside the door, I gathered Willa in my arms, holding her tight as I teased the corners of her mouth with the tip of my tongue. Her mouth gradually opened, allowing me to explore the inside of her mouth and for only the second time, taste the sweet flavors of her mouth.

While I held her, I allowed one hand to cup her tight little ass and bring her mons into even closer contact with my own, rubbing myself against her. She responded by touching my breast.

She was surprised to discover that my bra had been altered so only my thin blouse covered my nipple, but she was quick to begin teasing it by pinching and twisting it, then stretching it.

Every time she touched it, I felt a tiny electrical jolt in my vulva which was beginning to itch. I reached behind her and unhooked the top of her dress zipper, which I slowly lowered. When I reached her bra strap, I unhooked it and then continued to lower the zipper all the way to her hips. She hunched her shoulders forward, and her dress and bra fell simultaneously to puddle around her ankles.

I had seen her breasts a few days earlier, but the rest of her figure had been concealed by the ill fitting dress she had worn. Now it was revealed, and it was stunning! As I said earlier, her breasts were larger than mine, and somewhat more pendulous, and her hips a trifle wider, but her abdomen and thighs more than made up for it. I felt weak in the knees as I watched her lower her pantyhose and her curly blond pubic hair was revealed.

I realize, now, that the instant love that flowed between us was a special thing. Frankly, I was mildly surprised by the degree of attraction I felt toward Willa, and it seems not unlikely that she was similarly unprepared for the intensity of feeling that characterized our relationship almost from the beginning.

Guided by instinct rather than experience -- which neither of us had -- we began by holding one another closely, reveling in the sensuous feel of silky warm skin and soft curves pulsing against our own. Our wet lips and questing tongues hungrily explored each others mouths, tasting, probing, caressing, while our hands slid easily and wonderously over each other's backs, sides, bottoms, and after drawing slightly apart, our breasts, nipples, and mons veneris.

Ours was a love dance as old as time, yet for us, as new as the morning. I thrilled when I tested the resiliency of a different breast and hard, engorged nipples for the first time by cupping Willa's soft breast. Intense longings accompanied by tiny sparks of electricity began radiating from my vulva when I felt her hot tongue bathe my breast, and her lips capture my equally engorged nipple.

Then I slid my hand into her delta, through her moist curly bush and began to explore her folds with my extended middle finger while she did the same for me. I rolled away from her on my back and spread my thighs. The next thing I knew, she bestowed a hot, wet kiss on my mons, and began exploring it with her tongue.

"Two can play at that game," I said eagerly, "come here!"

So it went for at least an hour. I enjoyed two shattering orgasms -- not as intense, perhaps, as those I had experienced with Jack, but wonderfully enervating nevertheless.

Willa seemed to melt after her climax, and began to sob.

I held her, soothing and loving her little body until she quieted. Then she told me why she thought Nels had raped her. "I think he was hoping to make me pregnant so he could take over the farm," she said, shuddering slightly. I held her tightly against me as if to protect her forever from the Nels of this world, and we fell asleep that way. Our daughters found us the next morning, still wrapped in each other's arms.

Well, so much for keeping up appearances! We did, however, need a larger apartment because Nonnie, by this time, was 15 and needed the privacy of her own room. Consequently, we moved about six weeks later.