Friday 8.05 a.m.
"How you feeling babe?" were the first words my husband said to me as I stumbled, bleary eyed into the kitchen on the Friday morning.
"Ugh don't ask... tired... and a bit sore." Wrapping my robe around me, I complained, as I dropped into a chair.
He grinned and passed me a mug of steaming life's elixir otherwise known as coffee.
"Well Tyrell did give you a bloody good shafting."
Looking up at him my eyes widened, "And you didn't? I seem to recall that you took your turn after he had gone and then you had me again in the shower."
"Sorry. But seeing him fucking you really turned me on."
I had known it would.
Chris doesn't get the opportunity to see me with customers very often but Tyrell is one big exception. He likes being watched, so my husband being there and becoming aroused by it wasn't a surprise.
"You're just a pervert." I couldn't help but smile at him.
We lapsed into silence for a minute or two while I drank my coffee.
"So, anything planned for today?" Chris asked me breaking the quiet mood as I sat in the kitchen staring at nothing while he stood up, ready to leave for work that morning.
"Not today no." I sighed, idly playing with my cup, "No one wants me."
"None of your regulars?" he raised an eyebrow questioningly, "Isn't that unusual?"
Shaking my head, I replied, "Yes, it is, I thought Hugh Penfold might be back but there's absolutely nothing. I'm unwanted."
"Very strange." he took another sip of his drink, "So what do you think you'll do with your day?"
I frowned as I considered his question, "To be honest I'm not sure. I might go shopping or I could head over to the airport hotel later. Maybe I'll find a bored business man to entertain."
"Well, whatever you decide don't forget we've got that party at the Harper's house tomorrow afternoon." he reminded me as he slipped on his jacket.
I sighed even louder, rolling my eyes.
I made it a rule to try to avoid socialising with my customers whenever I could.
However, it wasn't always possible.
Derek Harper had been a regular for quite some time and I always found it difficult chatting with someone who was paying to fuck me once a week. That said it was even harder talking to his wife Margaret in a social situation where he was also around.
In addition, there were also likely to be a few more of my regulars at the Harper's party tomorrow. It promised to be a challenging time for me to say the least.
"Do we have to go?" I pleaded with my husband hoping he would say no, although I already knew he wouldn't.
"They're our next-door neighbours we have to. It would be really rude not to turn up." He stated the obvious.
"Yes, but don't you find it awkward, chatting to them when... well you know?"
"When they're paying to fuck you, you mean?" he looked at me enquiringly.
I blushed and giggled, "Well.... yeah."
He grinned, "I'm married to the town whore. If that doesn't bother me then why would talking to them?"
"Oh, I don't know. It's just I find it kind of difficult. Talking to Margaret about whatever when I keep thinking that Derek was screwing me in their bed just a couple of days ago." I admitted honestly.
Chris didn't reply, just stood up and, looked at his watch as he finished his coffee, "I have to go. I'll see you tonight."
With that he kissed my cheek and was gone.
Friday 9.09 a.m.
After my husband had left for work, I sat and finished my coffee before wandering back upstairs to take a bath and try to make a decision about the day, as I relaxed in the tub.
Dropping my robe, I slid into the deep bubble bath enjoying the feel of the warm water on my body. It was especially soothing on my tender labia which were still a little sore from the energetic fucking that Tyrell and my husband had given me the previous evening.
The day was mine to do with as I wanted and, after thinking it through, I decided that I would pay a visit to the airport hotel.
I knew I should get on with some housework, especially the ironing, but I hadn't been across town for ages and I thought that maybe I would give it a try.
I could just to see how things were over there I decided, and if I did find myself a bored businessman while I was looking the place over then the day might not be a total loss.
Getting there before lunchtime would be a pointless exercise, however, so I took my time in the bath, washing my hair and shaving my vulva to make sure it was a smooth as possible.
Friday 9.58 a.m.
Eventually, with the water getting cold, I rather reluctantly climbed out of the tub. Then, after drying myself off, I wrapped my hair in a towel and made my way back into my bedroom.
Leaving my blonde mane to dry, I did my long nails. Removing my normal vivid scarlet colouring that I had on and carefully re-painting them a sultry jet black.
After letting the nail varnish set, I sat in front of my mirror and spent the best part of 25 minutes to properly blow-dry my long blonde hair. That done I spent another 15 putting it up on top of my head and teasing out several long strands to get it looking just the way I wanted.
Finally satisfied, I turned my attention to the next part of my preparations.
Friday 11.07 a.m.
It was still a little too early to be heading for the hotel bar so, not needing to rush, I occupied myself experimenting with my make-up. Putting on my usual false eyelashes and mascara I changed my eyeshadow to a deep smokey grey and then spent another next ten minutes, staring in the mirror, deciding that I did quite like it.
I took my time dressing as well; rolling black seamed stockings up my legs and attaching them to my red satin suspender belt. After that I slipped on the matching panties before looking in my wardrobe and selecting what I was going to wear.
Settling on a vivid red cocktail dress I stepped into it and pulled it up, fastening the zipper up the back. It was short, barely covering my stocking tops, not the sort of thing you could decently wear during the day. However, for soliciting for business in a hotel bar it was the perfect length.
The garment was sleeveless, with a fairly revealing neckline that was held together with three buckles between my breasts. My chest isn't large and I really need a proper push-up bra if I want to have a decent cleavage so exposing my tits in this way was a good alternative.
My black 3" strappy stiletto heels completed what I hoped was a slightly classy, very slutty look.
I took a last look at myself in the mirror and, deciding I was ready, I set off for the airport hotel.
Friday 11.47 a.m.
Picking up my bag and my car keys I stepped out of the front door, locking it behind me, and slipped behind the wheel of my mini.
'Here we go, let's see what the day brings?'
I thought to myself as I pulled out of our driveway waving at my neighbour Margaret Harper, who was busy in her garden, as I did.
'Did she see me coming out of the house?'
I wondered.
I always tried to be fairly discrete when I was coming or going, especially if I was dressed like I was today.
'What would she have thought if she had seen me?'
chuckling to myself I stopped at a red light,
'I might have some explaining to do tomorrow.'
Traffic was relatively light for a Friday and I took the 30-minute drive as slowly as I could just to kill a little more time, arriving at around a quarter past midday.
The airport hotel was a modern construction. Probably no more than ten years old it was eight storeys of glass and steel as is the way of most new structures. I found it functional but completely soulless, unlike the Marlborough, which I thought, had so much character about it.
However, it had, in the past, been a good spot for picking up the odd bored, lonely businessman when things were quiet for me.
Friday 12.17 p.m.
It was still a somewhat early but, pushing open the main doors, I made my way through to the hotel foyer, my stiletto heels clicking loudly and announcing my arrival.
The two receptionists gave me the expected evil eye, which was fairly unsurprising given the way I was dressed in the middle of the day.
Making no attempt to question me their eyes simply followed me contemptuously as I held my head up and swayed past them, my pert arse wiggling, into the bar.
As I expected, it was virtually empty. Just a couple of middle-aged men poring over some paperwork strewn across their table as they took an occasional mouthful of the pints before them. They both looked up at me as I entered, hungrily following my movements as I strutted past them, but then went back to what they were doing.
Carefully sliding my bottom onto a stool at the end of the counter, trying not to flash my stocking tops, I smiled at the barman.
"Hi, Abigail. Long time, no see." he came straight across to me, "What can I get you?"
It's sometimes hard being the town whore and being so well known but, like The Marlborough, I had used The Airport hotel quite often in the past and was on first name terms with the bar staff.
"Hi Charlie, how's things with you?" I replied with a smile, "And I'll have a slim line tonic with ice and lemon please."
"Things are absolutely fine thanks." he gave me a wink as he poured it, "On the house for you."
"Thanks." I took a sip enjoying the fizz of the bubbles on my tongue.
"Looking for business?" Charlie leant closer and enquired warily.
I shrugged, "Yeah, maybe. It's a quiet day so I thought I'd drop by and see if anything was happening."
"I might be able to point someone your way." he inclined his body further across the bar to whisper conspiratorially.
"Oh who?" I asked equally as quietly, "Not one of those two?"
"No, but if he comes in, I'll send him your way. He's an older guy but loaded and always on the look-out for a good time girl." He said with a wink before he went off to serve another pair of customers who had come in.
