A Real Professional

A REAL PROFESSIONAL

All the people in this story are real, and the events, although perhaps slightly embellished, were retold as close to reality as possible.

She pleaded with me to let him come and fuck her, until I finally agreed, reluctantly, seeing she wanted it so very, very much. She was obsessed with having sex with Brad and had been, she admitted tearfully, for years. She said she didn't want to break up, she just had to feel him inside of her. She did not want a divorce. She admitted to masturbating herself in bed to thoughts of him as she lay beside me each night thinking of him. It was, she said, driving her crazy.

I began to obsess about it myself, imagining it, picturing them fucking and sucking like minks. She began describing to me what she wanted him to do to her and amazingly it began to arouse me greatly to listen to her. Claire boldly told me she wanted his dick inside her, to kiss it, lick it, and roll it on her face. She was infatuated with my friend and nearly out of control.

She talked about it constantly, describing in great detail all the things she would do to him and let him do to her. She said she first yearned for him to fuck her at our wedding and would do anything for me if I would let her take him inside of her, let him come in her pussy, and agree to give them private time to pet and fuck and make each other come.

She told me it tormented her, to deceive me and ache for someone else, but she confessed she got wet when he was around and many times it was all she could do to control herself around him.

I finally said I'd call him and tell him it was settled and he was free to come and fuck my wife. "Do to her whatever you'd like. I don't care. She is driving me nuts begging me to let you have sex with her. Please come and screw her, eat her, let her suck your cock. Just come over and I will let you do whatever you like. As a friend, help me out," I said. "Suck her pussy, lick her ass, let her suck your cock."

He was silent, then he finally replied. "Okay. I'll be there tonight. Be gone, give us all night, I will help you out."

"Thanks, buddy," I said, not believing what I had just asked my friend to do.

I drove away from the house at five, expecting him to arrive at six. He had said he would stay until morning, that he knew of her interest, that she had told him and asked him to stop by, but he had told her no, that he would only do it with my approval. I thanked him again, assured him I was okay with it, bewildered by her infatuation.

He laughed, like it was to be expected, like it was standard operating procedure, like it was natural and predictable. "Well, of course," he said. "She is a woman, after all."

I wanted to puke. It had actually been a sexual fantasy of mine for a long time, but it was only a fantasy and I never thought I would be secure enough to let it happen. It was true that even though it excited me to think about, it also tore me up inside. It was crazy, but that was how it was.

So as I drove away, I was aching but excited. I pictured them fucking, but I winced at the images. My stomach was in knots and at same time my pulse was racing at the thought of where she was and what she was doing. It was the craziest dichotomy of all and it was killing me.

I didn't know exactly what Brad did for a living, I just knew it had something to do with business and he had worked with computers all his life. I knew he traveled a lot and always had big rolls of cash when we were out together. People knew him everywhere we went, and he was a player at a high level.

When I saw her Sunday morning, after her night with Brad, she hurried passed me as I entered the kitchen door as he got into his car. I turned around and went out to him, wondering if she had been upset. "Claire will be busy next weekend," he said as he sat behind the wheel. I expected to thank him for helping us, but he simply told me she would be occupied. My expression must have looked confused because he went on. "It is just a business arrangement. No need for you to get involved," he said as if he was talking to a subordinate. "It's just business."

With that he backed out of the driveway and drove off. I went back inside and went to the bedroom and found Claire sitting on the bed. "Was there a problem?" I asked. She said there was no problem and things had gone fine. "Fine? You just spent the night with the fuck of your dreams and you say things just went 'fine.' Things should have been better than fine," I said a little louder than necessary.

She began to cry and I sat down beside her. "What happened? Didn't you just have the fuck of a lifetime?" She nodded and said the sex was great, that she really had a great time. "So, you're crying because you had such a great time in a bed with my friend? What am I missing here?"

She looked up at me, tears streaming down her cheeks, and smiled. "It is just what Bradley does. It is only business," she said looking pained.

"That is what he said, it's only business. He said I didn't have to worry about it. So what don't I have to worry about?" I asked.

"He will pick me up Friday night and I'll be home Sunday night," she said with hardly any emotion.

"And what will you be doing from Friday night to Sunday night, fucking Brad?" I said.

"No, not Brad," she said revealing more than she intended.

"Not Brad, then who," I said.

"I don't know. It is strictly business," she said, echoing what Brad had said and she had started with.

"So this strictly business is having to do with fucking, but not Brad?" I said.

"Right," she answered.

"Brad is in the pimp business?" I said.

"They don't call it that," she said. "They are Liaison Facilitators."

"Pimps, in other words," I said.

"It involves a great deal of money," she said, "and very important people. It is what Brad does. He said he would spend the night with me if I would work for him. He made me agree. He made me sign. He said I was special."

"He made you sign a paper saying you would whore for him?"

"No, that I would not reveal our agreement," she said. "It was an NDA. A non disclosure agreement. I cannot reveal what we agreed to," she said. "I will get paid a lot of money."

My interest was piqued. "So how much money are we talking about?" I said.

"Twenty-five thousand dollars for the weekend," she said. "There would be five girls and many men. Brad said if I wanted him to be with me for the weekend, then I should do something for him. That is when I signed the NDA. I really wanted us to have sex. You understand, don't you?"

So my wife had been with my friend for a night and she had agreed to work for him whoring for the weekend. I intended to call him and get this straightened out. Claire was not a prostitute and there was no way she was going to fuck some old men for money to pay him for fucking her overnight.

When I called Brad I got his secretary and was told she would give the message to call me. I gave my number, although I knew he had it, and was told he'd call me back.

It was two days later before I heard from Brad. I told him I wasn't happy with him getting Claire to sign an NDA and I would need that destroyed and dissolved.

"Look, buddy, this is just business. Was she not happy with the sex?" he asked, as if there was no way she could be dissatisfied. I told him it wasn't about the sex, it was about being tricked into being a prostitute. "Did she not tell you about how much she will make?" he asked.

"Yes, she told me, and that is indeed a lot of money, but this not about money," I said as assertively as I could.

"Do you know that she can make around a million a year if she only works one weekend a month. If she works more it can be quite a bit more. I'd say up to two million or more," he said.

"Two million?" I said, stunned by the number, embarrassingly intrigued by the staggering amount. I was quiet for a minute while I processed the concept and the notion of her being paid for sex.

"You can't be against her fucking someone else for money," he said. "You were willing for her to do it with me for nothing but some carnal gratification. A million or more bucks for doing the same thing she did with me for one night. You're pissed? No shit? One million tax-free American dollars, my friend. By the way, she does it really fucking well. No shit."

He was absolutely right. I was willing, after some impassioned coaxing, for her to do it with another man for free. Could I be willing to live off the large amount of money my wife got for sex with millionaires? Could I do it for a brand new Lamborghini or a Ferrari? Was I so superficial that I could live on riches my wife made for having sexual intercourse with strangers for money. Was fucking for dollars any worse than fucking an old friend for venereal kicks? Probably not.

When I got off the phone with Brad, after I kind of lost my anger quickly when I ran out of reasonable justifications for outrage, I sat down with Claire at the table. "Have you thought anymore about his offer?"

"Oh, it's not an offer," she said. "I signed the NDA. I guess I am going to work for Brad," she said sadly.

"Could you do that?" I asked. "Could you actually have sex for money?"

She looked at me for a long time without answering. "I had sex with Brad for simply pleasure," she said. "That is what he said. If I could do it with him for nothing, then I could certainly suck it up and fuck for dollars, right?"

I hugged her and kissed her cheek. "We could get a lawyer, see what can be done to get out of the NDA. There must be something," I said.

"It would cost thousands of dollars to get out of making money, lots of money," she said quietly. No, I like sex. I could just suck it up and do whatever it takes to get through it. I am just disappointed in Brad, but he told me I am really good in bed. I could make lots of money."

The self-righteous indignation of objecting to her as a sex worker out of principle was shot down with my allowing her to have sex with Brad because she had the hots for him and no other reason. I was a bit ashamed that the amount of money tainted my objection. However, one million dollars for 100 days of work was hard to turn down.

When the day came she was to go with Brad she was adamant that we could not waste the money for a lawyer trying to fight the NDA, and Brad's firm had a bunch of top lawyers to fight the suit. "We have to look at it that way," she said. "It is an awful lot of money for just laying on your back."

As she rode off with Brad I watched until his car turned the corner. I asked her to call me when she got there, then again when her first day was over. Brad told me there was security where she would be so there was no risk. I told her to call me no matter what time it was.

I was restless that night and didn't sleep well. At 2:30 my phone pinged and it was Claire. "It isn't as bad as I feared," she said. "The people here are nice and the hotel is beautiful. Having sex is not all that hard. The clients have been young and attractive so far, so it was not so bad."

I asked her about the hours and she said they only 'worked' from ten to two, so it was not like slave labor. "I like the other girls. One is a working lawyer who does this on the side, two are college girls working their way through school, one is a med student, and one is a housewife, that's me," she said with a laugh. "Actually, it wasn't bad," she said.

The next night Claire called me at the same time. "Tonight I had just one customer. He is called Jimmy, but that is not his real name. He is a billionaire out of Houston who owns a cable company that sells to the government for transatlantic cable production. He is very nice, but he likes some unusual things. I will tell you about them more when I get home, but none of them were things I objected to, although I had not done them. It is just sex, so you don't have to worry. I will talk to you from the airport tomorrow afternoon. Love you," she said.

Claire got home at three in the afternoon. She placed 250 one hundred dollar bills on the bed and rolled in it. "If I work fifty days a year I will make one million two hundred thousand dollars that Uncle Sam doesn't know about." She tossed the bills in the air. "I could work that many days with my eyes closed," she said.

"The man I was with last night," she said, "Jimmy, paid one million dollars for his part of this week end. There were thirty-five men, that is thirty-five million dollars made by the company this weekend alone. One hundred weekends a year is big money," she said with a grin.

I asked if she planned on working other weekends. "We couldn't afford not to," she said. "That's a house, two cars, and a dog, as well as a maid, a chauffeur, and a masseuse, just for working fifty days a year." She came over, put her arms around my neck and kissed me, then pulled me down on the money and we rolled in it.

She began telling about the kinky things 'Jimmy' liked to do. "He has me dress in a French maid's costume," she said, "with no panties and the top just below my breasts. He likes feet, so he wants to wash my feet." She laughed. "Actually, it tickled, so I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. "One girl from before got fired cause she laughed like crazy when he washed her feet. Other than that he likes regular sex and he was not bad at it. "Brad said he is one of the richest men in America, not the US, but all of North and South America."

The next time she went with Brad it was to Jamaica. They flew out of LAX and left Los Angeles at six am and flew to Miami, then caught a connection to Kingston. She called me from the hotel and said it was on the edge of a beautiful lagoon and had a pool as large as our little town on the Santa Barbara coast.

She said there were only five men there for the weekend and the girls were assigned to one each. The men had looked through their photos and picked their choice, provided their wasn't a dispute over who got who. If two men wanted the same woman the wealth of the men determined who got his pick.

The man who picked Claire was named Marco Clark and, according to Brad, is the richest man in Florida. He owns medical facilities throughout the south. He is around six feet and has gray hair and looks younger than his fifty years. "He really is a sweetie," she said. "He asked about us and I told him about us, about our folks, and about Sally."

Sally is Claire's sister's daughter. She has Spina Bifida, a spinal disorder that has left her in need of expensive surgery. "He wants to help. His clinics deal with Spina Bifida and he'll fly her out there, cover the expenses, and see that she gets the treatment she needs."

It was amazing that Claire's sex work has led to Sally getting the care that she needs that Jordan and Molly couldn't afford. We never expected to have anything positive come out of Claire's working in the sex trade, but it actually has been a blessing.

We bought a new house, two new cars (not a Lamborghini, but a Toyota and a Ford), and Claire has started back to school to become a veterinarian like she has always wanted. When she asked to have sex with Brad, I could hardly have imagined what would come out of it. It was not the easiest decision, but it had some positive affects on our marriage.

I have been more sensitive to Claire's physical needs, and I have come to understand better the nature of her emotional ups and downs. I see her more now as a sexual being than I ever did before. I saw her as a wife, but not so much as a person with natural sexual desires and who could need more than a husband with an income.

It is so ironic that it took her selling sex for me to understand her better, and for her to become a happier, more satisfied person who feels better about herself. She is taking classes at the local college, and we have her job as a sex worker to thank. My wife was a prostitute who climbed the social ladder, one millionaire at a time.