"Courtesan" is romantic story about a dominant hot wife and her submissive cuckold husband. While they have a deep and abiding love for each other they do lead an alternative lifestyle. If this subject matter offends you or makes you feel uncomfortable, I strongly suggest that you find something else to read.
This is a fantasy. All of the people, places and organizations described in this story are creations of my imagination.
I find it ironic that a population that prides itself on liberty and personal freedom can be so intolerant of individual differences in sexual preference.
Dr. Richard Norman
Professor of English Literature at Maple Hills Community College
My mother and father wanted me to be a nurse. I became a bar maid instead. I'm very happy with my life. My only regret is that I disappointed my parents.
Trisha Denton
Bar maid at Benny's Saloon, Janderville, Texas
As we become increasingly certain that we have finally discovered the truth, we tend to forget that there is still, almost always, an alternate explanation.
Jason Mathews, Attorney at law
It was 7:30 on a blustery night in late October. The sun had gone down over an hour ago. A light drizzle and the bitter bite of the frigid wind made it a miserable time to be outside. Sadly I had no choice. I had to wait for my wife.
I was huddled in the doorway of Smithson's Jewelry Store. In a futile attempt to stay warm I'd pulled the collar of my coat up over my ears and I was blowing on my hands. It was a Thursday night. The store had closed at six. The sidewalk in front of me was deserted and dark. The only illumination came from the street light on the corner and the lights surrounding the main entrance to The Whetmore Building directly across the street.
The firm of Jackson, Tyler and Reynolds occupied the entire fifty-second floor of the fifty-four story Whetmore Building. My wife, Kelly Mason worked for Jackson, Tyler and Reynolds.
JTandR as it was commonly known to it's employees was a very elite investment firm. Kelly was an administrative assistant to Martin Jackson, the senior partner and Chief Executive Officer of JTandR. Martin Jackson was a very wealthy man. He was also one of the most influential power brokers in our city.
My name is Timothy Jamieson. Everyone who knows me calls me Timmy.
I guess you could say that I was a writer of sorts. I worked for one of those local advertising newspapers. You know what I'm talking about, they're those skinny little publications that get stuffed into your front door a couple of times each month. The one I worked for was called The Southwest Crier. I edited advertising copy. The job didn't pay very much, but the hours were good. I also got a lot of extra time to work on my novel.
Oh yes, I'm one of those guys who has a dream. Someday I'm going to write a best seller, or at the very least a book that gets published.
My wife makes a whole lot more money than I do. Actually the disparity in our incomes makes mine nearly inconsequential. The Crier pays me just over two thousand dollars a month. During her first year at JTandR Kelly earned nearly a hundred and fifty thousand dollars and this year she's on track to make almost double that.
Kelly's rise in the firm has been meteoric. JTandR hired her right out of college. She started as an assistant to one of the corporate analysts. Apparently she made an immediate impression, because four months later she was working as an assistant to the three partners and the following December she was made a special assistant to Martin Jackson. As I already mentioned, he's the head honcho.
My wife is a gorgeous 5'4" fireball with naturally blond hair.
There's an athletic club located on the third floor of the Whetmore Building. JTandR provides a membership for Kelly as part of her compensation. She makes daily use of the exercise machines. Those regular workouts help my wife maintain a trim athletic body that draws admiring glances from every healthy adult male she encounters.
Of course those glances may also have something to do with Kelly's most notable attribute, or maybe it would be more precise to say attributes. My wife is well endowed, I mean spectacularly well endowed. We're talking about a pair of double D's on a five foot four inch, one hundred and fifteen pound frame.
Kelly laughingly refers to her breasts as both her gift and her curse. She freely admits that since the age of fifteen her bosom has garnered her privileges, male attention and special treatment that other girls didn't get; but she's also quick to point out that her huge breasts and blond hair have made it very difficult to get people to accept her as anything but a mindless bimbo.
I suppose that was one of the reasons that Kelly was attracted to me. Ironically, I'm not a breast man. I happen to be an avowed butt man. Now my wife does have a very cute little bottom, but it's no where near as spectacular as her bust.
Actually I was originally attracted to Kelly's brain. We met as Sophomores at Kelroy College. We were enrolled in the same creative writing class. My wife loves to write poetry and she's very good at it. About three weeks into the semester she was asked to read one of her poems to the class. The poem she chose described a little girl's feelings as she chased a butterfly through a rose garden on a sunny summer afternoon. It took my breath away.
After class I waited in the hallway for Kelly. I really don't know where I found the courage to do it. I was a pathetically shy, slightly effeminate, scrawny little wimp. Kelly was gorgeous and very popular. Kelroy was a small private college; everyone knew everything about everybody. I was well aware of the fact that Kelly only dated handsome fraternity guys and muscular football players. She was way out of my league.
When she stepped out of the classroom I walked up to her and just barely managed to stammer out the words, "Kelly I thought your poem was one of the most beautiful pieces of writing I've ever heard."
I'll never forget her response. My future wife stared at me for a moment and then she started to smile. "Really? Do you mean that?"
Kelly's smile encouraged me and made me bolder. I smiled back and said, "Yes I do mean that. When you were reading it I actually felt like I was in the garden with the little girl."
"I have lots of poems, I write them all the time. Would you like to hear some more?"
I nodded. "Yes, I'd like that very much."
"Are you doing anything right now?"
I shook my head. "No, but..." I was starting to get scared.
Kelly noticed my distress. In the softest most gentle voice I've ever heard she said, "There's nothing to be afraid of. I promise I won't hurt you." She took my hand. "Come on, let's go to my dorm room. I'll make us some hot chocolate. I'll read some of my poems to you and then maybe you could read something you've written."
We became immediate friends and it wasn't long before we were best friends. We wrote poetry together, studied together, read novels together, watched movies together and listened to music together. Two weeks after that first meeting we were nearly inseparable.
The only thing we didn't do was date. Kelly continued her habit of exclusively going out with handsome fraternity guys and muscular football players. To make matters worse, she had a reputation for being easy. The campus rumor mongers all called her the blow job queen of Kelroy College. On Friday and Saturday nights I not only had to sit at home alone, I had to do it knowing that there was a high probability that the girl I was madly in love with was getting fucked by another guy.
I never complained, but one afternoon I did gather enough courage to ask Kelly about it. I'll never forget that day. We were studying in her dorm room. I'd already fallen desperately in love with her and I had to know if the rumors were true.
I set my book down and nervously watched Kelly. She was engrossed in her own book and didn't notice me. I made a little noise. She looked up. When she saw me staring at her she asked, "What is it?"
