A Cheating Wife's Disclosures

Over the course of a single week, a perfect shit storm blew into my life. Monday evening on the way home from work, my car threw a rod. As the oil leaked onto the asphalt on the side of the roadway, I knew it was toast. A mechanic told me two hours later, his repair estimate would run $2,000 more that the car was worth. At least Dumbass had his own car I could use; an eight cylinder testosterone tribute to his machismo that got 10 miles to the gallon. As my shit luck would have it, the mail contained a FINAL notice that said Dumbass was three months behind in his payments and the car would be repro'd in 15 days unless we caught up in full. The $200 we had in saving wouldn't cut it.

In the same mail contained an announcement daycare was going up another 10 percent.

On Tuesday, I was called into a sudden meeting at work. Profits were down, expenses up - bottom line, they were closing our office effective immediately. One week severance, take it or leave it.

The next day, our son bit into a hotdog at the school cafeteria and screamed in agony. He bitten into a bit of bone in the frank had cracked his tooth. If we'd had TriCare, it would have helped with the coming bilsl, but Dumbass had preferred to get his muscle car to impress the rest of the barracks, than providing decent dental care for his family. The dentist explained he could pull the tooth, a permanent, for a lot less that putting in a crown. There are a lot of things I'll do to cut corners and I'll take the lumps on my own financial problems, but not where my kids are concerned.

Neither of us had family we could go to for money. I was screwed unless I could come up with a lot of money quickly. I'd heard of a woman in the complex that might be able help me out, if the rumors were true. Like me, she was the wife of an enlisted man, so she knew the tribulations.

I sat in Amanda's kitchen and covered my problems, not sure what she'd recommend. She was sympathetic and asked how desperate I was. My answer was, "Dire. We could lose our apartment in a few weeks."

She looked at me, turned away and then back again, as if summoning the courage to tell me. In a near whisper she asked, "Have you considered being a call girl?"

"No, I wasn't thinking of that at all." The look on my face was one of shock. I'd played a game once of hooking, but that was just some kinky adventure. Was she serious?

"Look, I'm sorry to have to bring it up. You're young and attractive. A lot of enlisted wives have to do this on occasion to get by. I'd guess a third have at one time or another. I know a woman that can help you. She's fair and will keep you out of trouble."

Still stunned, I asked, "Have you ever?"

She looked down at the table. "Yes, I've worked off and on for a couple of years. Shit happens."

It was true, there was a lot of shit happening for enlisted families. Nearly half of us were reduced to using food stamps in the commissaries. For people putting their lives on the line in defense of this country and their families, there wasn't much money for the effort.

I thought it over in silence for several minutes. It was scary. But, I was in a real bind. "OK, can you get me in touch with her?"

A day later I sat in the living room of someone named, Karla, in my leather mini, my best fuck me pumps and a skin tight top, discussing "contract employment". Karla was somewhere in her forties and nicely dressed. Her hair was expensively tinted and her nails professionally manicured. She smiled pleasantly when she asked, "Dear, would you mind taking your clothes off and showing me your body?"

I felt embarrassed, especially consider the large black male standing by the doorway. "Don't worry about, James, he's seen it all. He keeps all the ladies under my employ safe."

Realizing that if I wanted to work for her, I couldn't be shy. I disrobed and turned in front of them in nothing but my heels.

"I like that you don't have any tattoos. Our clientele prefer more refined women."

"Can I put my clothes back on now?"

"No, I'd like to see how comfortable you are in a situation like this. Please sit."

I took a deep breath and did as asked.

"Have you ever had sex for money before, Dear?"

"Err, not really," I replied, knowing that I had, sort of. At least I consider it a "sort of".

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. Half of the women in this country have had sex for some form of consideration at some point in their lives."

I briefly explained my hotel misadventure and blushed.

"I like that you have some experience, but not too much. You'll fit in with us nicely." James nodded in agreement.

The deal was that I'd be called and go to clients. I was technically an escort - there for my company only, but everyone knew I would be paid an additional fee to be fucked or whatever else the client wanted.

"There is one more thing, Dear. You'll have to dress better."

I looked at my mini skirt on the chair. It was the most expensive piece of clothing I owned. It did look cheap and worn. I was advanced $700 toward a new wardrobe. That would be my first two tricks, I calculated.

I was also instructed that clients of her establishment are never referred to as Johns or tricks. There was a host of other rules of etiquette. I signed an agreement to abide by all the rules. Amanda had pointed out to me, working for Karla was a lot better that making the drive to Nevada and working at a brothel or striking out on my own.

I spent the rest of the day buying my new work outfits. The money didn't go far, but it was enough to start out.

A day later I tapped on the door to room 416 at a business class downtown hotel. It was past dark and I'd told Anne that I was working as a restaurant hostess while she watched the kids. She may have seen the holes in my story, but she knew enough about the lives we existed in not to ask too many questions. I was dressed like I belonged in a place like this. It's funny, I dressed more like a whore before I began working as one.

The gentleman that answered the door seemed pleasant enough and was most likely in his mid- fifties. I introduced myself, "Good evening, sir, I'm Deborah."

He said his name was Charley and he eyed me up and down approvingly. "You're very pretty Deborah. I'm sure you show me a wonderful evening." I wore a skirt, two inches above my knees and a satin tie back halter. Underneath I had dark seamed stocking supported by a garter belt and a matching black bra that my nipples rose above.

He asked if I'd care for a drink and according to the rule book, I was allowed one with each client. He poured me a Stoli on the rocks with a twist. I sat in a chair and slowly sipped at it with my legs crossed and my skirt moved a few more inches northward. He sipped his drink and enjoyed the view of my legs. It would have been weird on a regular date, by this was what I was being paid for.

We made causal conversation and he seemed impressed with my ability to hold up my end. It was stressed to me how important it was to be able to verbally engage a client, but to always keep the focus on his interests.

At last, he got to the heart of our transaction. He explained that he wanted oral and then standard intercourse. I quoted the company standard charges for my services and he agreed. I removed my blouse and skirt. Since I wasn't wearing underwear per his prior request, he had full view of my naked vagina that I smilingly presented. "Would you like me to remove my bra, sir?"

"Yes, Deborah. Please do, but leave your heels and garter on."

I unzipped his trousers and he was soon naked. I was allowed to kiss him, but no tongues, per the rules. On my knees, I began to suck his cock and watched his face carefully to make sure he didn't approach climax too soon. The agency stressed that the clients get the full requested package and some don't wish to admit they are overly excited.

Soon it was time to be placed top of the bed, not under the sheets unless the client specifically asks. Some clients prefer not to sleep on sheets soiled by even higher class prostitutes. The rules, once again.

He inserted himself into me and indicted he was enjoying his activity. I closed my eyes and thought of other things. If you've ever wondered what a prostitute thinks about while being serviced by a client, I'm not sure I could tell you. All I can say is that I fantasized about having Dumbass come home and finding me with two lawyers in the living room. "Welcome home. Here are the divorce papers. I'm taking the children you've never involved yourself with and leaving. There's also a restraining order against you. Oh, and by the way, your car was just repossessed."

Charley grunted into my ear and I could tell he was ejaculating. I thrust my hip to provide a last bit of enjoyment. We finished up and I pulled my clothes back on. I thanked him for the money, he thanked me for my services, including an extra compliment. "You're exquisite, Deborah, I'm in town until the end of the week. I'd like to see you again."

"I'd like that very much, sir." I received a hundred dollar tip.

I had one more client that evening. My clothes were now paid for and I'd raised half the money to hang onto Dumbass' car. What a shame it would be, if its fancy custom red metallic paint job were to get keyed by some hooker one night, I thought to myself.

I travelled to a seedy motel that had been set up for us sex worker to clean up and changed into the next outfit. I got briefly introduced to some of the other women. Most of us were younger and seemed normal, other than working by having sex for money.

My first week, I did well financially. My willingness to do nearly any sex act moved me to the top of the request list. There are more men that seem to want anal intercourse and are willing to pay well for more it than you might imagine. It seems most wives are unwilling or the men are afraid to ask. It's something I learned to enjoyed. Maybe I was a gay man in a previous life.

By the end of the second week, I was requested for a two girl session. It tended to be on the expensive side, so most men made do with one whore.

My new partner was a girl that called herself, Dorsey. She was scarcely out of her teens and had long flaming red hair. She explained that she was putting herself through college on the pro-girl method. "It was this, porn or stripping. This pays best." She smiled as if it was simply any other stepping stone job toward a better life.

We had an hour before meeting our client. I looked her over wondering what she would taste like when I licked her cootch.

"You want to smoke a joint before we head over?" she asked.

The rules said no drugs on the job or off. Pot was considered a drug. I hated to be a ballbuster for the rule book, but I needed to keep this job until I got back on my feet. Then again, it would help to be a bit buzzed when I was lapping away at collage gal's muff.

"Karla never checks. I've worked for this client before, it's best to be a bit baked."

We arrived at the hotel and neither of us was feeling much pain. Our client was young; Dorsey said 25 and a trust fund kid intent on burning through as much of it as he could on the ever popular "hooker and blow" plan. We were offered plenty of the second part, but opted not to partake.

I stripped Dorsey down to her underwear and she did the same with me. The first part of the show involved us wrestling, with the loser determined by whose bra and panties was torn off first. We'd already predetermined the outcome. I'd take the fall and be ass fucked as the consequence.

It wasn't easy taking on another girl in heels. Dorsey was a good two inches taller and more athletic. In a real contest, she'd have kicked my ass. I scored the first victory, by ripping away her bra, but then she rolled me over and placed her pantie covered twat over my mouth. I nibbled away on her, but then she complained that I'd bitten her clit.

Jake, our client, informed us that that I'd incurred a penalty for flagrant rules violation. I was placed across Dorsey's knee, my panties pulled down and she spanked me. Jake then checked my cunt to see if I'd become wet. I'll admit, I was starting to become so excited by Dorsey, that I was starting to drip. "Looks like you have another dyke, hungry for your pussy, Red," Jake said.

I admitted my desires for her and Jake promised that if I won, I could have her lick my pussy for 20 minutes. Alas, that scenario was not to be, my bra was torn off me shortly thereafter and within minutes I lost my panties and the match.

The humiliation of the defeat was compounded by Dorset jamming three figures into my pussy. She used my own juices to lubricate my asshole, after which Jake jammed his erection into me. I lay hugging the edge of the bed as he rammed away at my rectum, while Dorsey stripped naked and positioned her snatch under my mouth. Her pubic hair was nicely trimmed, but was still a thick carpet of red that matched her flowing auburn locks. She had a strong, unique flavor and I wound up having the only organs I'd experienced working as a prostitute.

For the next hour, I assisted Jake in a mock rape of Dorsey and then was severely punished for my transgression against the "magnificent redhead" by being forced to tongue her asshole. Dorsey was apparently a favorite of his and I was the bad girl in this bizarre pageant.

For our evening with Jake, we each earned a couple of thousand in cash, plus a $200 tip. I walked out sore, but able to pay off all my debts and have a small fund left over for a rainy day.

As we rode the elevator down to street level, Dorsey said, "Thanks, Jakes a real freak, but he pays well. I do him every few months. He likes a new girl to put up against me, but if you want I could request a rematch later on."

I told her I'd think it over, but knew I had no plans to continue.

"If you want, I know of a party on a yacht next weekend. Last time I got five thousand for an overnight."

"I'm getting out of the business," I confessed. I kissed her on the lips and expressed my gratitude as I got into Dumbass' muscle machine, but I promised myself, this was my last trick or entertainment session.

I'll confess, I wasn't bothered by the work. In truth, I didn't find it all that unpleasant. In three nights of work a week for a few hour, I could earn several times what I'd been paid in an office for two full weeks. Once more, I could spend the day taking care of my kids and hiring a sitter for a few evenings was way cheaper than day care. I suppose I could go the Dorsey route and use the profession to go to college and make something of myself. But, I'd still be selling my ass. Even though I'd be getting good money for it, I could see being seduced by that life. I told myself, I had done what I had to do to survive and keep my children from being homeless. Maybe I was kidding myself, but I was at least an ex-whore.

I'd visited a lawyer earlier in the week and asked if there was any way to gain sole custody of my kids. I'd have been willing to do a few more months on my back, if I thought they wouldn't be left in the neglectful care of Dumbass several weekends a month, but I was told the courts wouldn't go with that, unless I could prove he was an unfit father.

The next weekend while Dorsey was shipboard making 5Gs, I bought a small used car and looked over the want ads online. One benefit of my previous contracting work was that the nicer outfits I was able to afford, helped me find a better paying job with a health and dental plan.