Andi Becomes a Stripper

Frankly, I'm not sure what's going on with me. It's been a few weeks since the 'calendar party' and my idiotically belated realization that my hot wife was doing cocaine. I had resolved to discuss it with her, but for some reason, I can't. Enjoying Andi's drunken partying and even encouraging her to drink for my own perverted pleasure is not good. But something darker in my psyche has awakened and likes this new development. I guess I'm waiting for... I don't know... maybe, a bigger red flag. I know this is so stupid. I know you're screaming at me to wake up and stop the madness (please keep in mind that this is wholly fiction), but I also know, I'm not ready to do that. As hot as she is physically, this only makes her hotter! I catch her doing coke all the time now, but pretend not to notice.

The 'Blonde Beach Beauties' calendar just went on sale and is selling well, they say. I have a copy fastened to the side of my fridge, locked on July! Out of all the gorgeous models in the thing, Andi is easily the slimmest and bustiest... and to me the most beautiful. I find myself wondering all the time, whether she was under the influence of something in that picture, and if something, what?

At any rate, it had been weeks and she'd had no more modeling assignments... that just didn't compute with me. I asked Andi about it and she blamed her agent. When I pressed her on it she admitted that there was work to be had, but that she didn't like the jobs he'd proposed. I resisted the urge to probe deeper and went as far as to suggest that maybe it was time to finish her schooling, ya know, get that degree. Well, THAT pissed her off to no end!

"Michael!" she only called me Michael, when I was in trouble. "I am nowhere near done with this! And, if you must know, the reason I've been turning down jobs is because of YOU!" Her eyes were beady, shooting daggers at me.

"What!? Baby, I don't understand. I only—"

She cut me off, "You wanna know why I'm not getting work? It's because I know you wouldn't approve!"

"Approve of what? More billboards, more magazine adds? Babydoll, I don't get it."

"Michael! It's because of these!" she said pointing to her tits with her thumbs. "These are big sexy tits! When was the last time you saw a billboard or a legit magazine ad with someone as stacked as me!?"

I could certainly tell she was angry, but why the fuck was she directing it at ME? Now, I was pissed.

"Fuck, Andi! You and your asshole agent picked those out! Not me, goddamn it!" sensing I was digging my own grave I figured I had better keep talking. "I mean, I love them. They're fantastic, but they would have been almost equally fantastic, if we'd stuck to the original plan." I defended myself. "400's would have been—"

She cut me off again, "Oh, I see how it is!" she was crying, now. "You're just like, Carl (the agent). I have these ridiculous tits, because I wanted them, huh? No! You fucking asshole! I got them because I wanted to be a good model. I wanted that calendar job and so did you!... and... I didn't hear you complaining, when you first saw them!"

"Babydoll, I'm not complaining, NOW. I just..." Shit... I knew what was going on, now. Fucking Carl! That bastard knew all along what he was doing. Now, she was typecast, as a floozie. The scumbag was going for easy money, trying to book her in soft-core porn. And, she was right. I wasn't at all inclined to approve! "...I just... want us to go back to the way we were." She was crying her eyes out, now.

I went to give her a hug, hold her, but she backed away, slapping at my arms. "I WANT to model and I'm doing it! I don't care what you say!" She grabbed her cellphone and stormed out of the room.

'FFUUUCCKKK!' I murmurred to myself. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that this IS what she wanted! I mean, she must have, right? It was funny how I was reading her mind so much better, now. She'd picked a fight with me so she could stomp out and accept work that I wouldn't approve! Well, two could play that game! Right about then, I realized I had a boner.

We didn't talk for a couple days. She'd go out with Krissy or whoever, come home late and I'd wake up in the morning with her back to me, as far away as she could get without falling out of bed. Ravishing me in the middle of the night, high on whatever, had abruptly ceased. I was more than bothered. If we couldn't go back to 'the way we were', I at least wanted to rewind to the point, where she wanted me again. So, I did what most men would do... I caved.

It was a Saturday morning, where I decided to surprise Andi with a perfect apologetic breakfast in bed that would rival Denny's. When I woke her, she stretched and smiled at me for the first time in days. My haughty little hottie actually said, "I accept your apology."

We were finally talking again and she admitted that she wasn't sure she could do the new assignments, proving... though I was careful not to acknowledge, that my supposition was right. Against my better judgement, I found myself encouraging her. I even told her, "Hey, if you're nervous about a particular shoot, have a drink or two first. No one would have to know... Maybe it would take the edge off, ya know?"

She was all but done with her breakfast, when she excused herself to the bathroom. As I was gathering the breakfast tray, I heard the familiar toot-toot and knew she was getting high. Undeterred, I took the tray to the kitchen to clean up. Moments later, Andi approached, wrapping her arms around me from behind and whispered in my ear from her tiptoes, "Come back to bed and fuck me, Daddy!"