Tracy listened carefully as I explained what I wanted her for. Then she sat back and sipped from her wine glass. While I waited for her answer, I studied her more carefully.
She was a little above medium height, slim, with long, light brown hair. Her face was pretty rather than beautiful but -- as it did when we first met -- it could also look very sexy. Her breasts could never be described as large, but they still seemed just a little too big for her figure, with its almost boyish hips and endless legs.
There was nothing boyish about her ass, though. It was high, firm and beautifully rounded.
She crossed her legs, recapturing my attention with practiced ease.
'So, you want me to pose as your wife for the weekend, for this party?'
'Yes.'
'And if some of the other men come on to me, I'm not to play too hard to get?'
'Correct.'
'Meaning I let them fuck me if that's what they want?'
'Yes.'
'Two-five.'
'I'm sorry.'
'I'll do it, but it'll cost you two and a half grand. In advance. For that I'll arrive with appropriate clothing -- both for the bedroom and all other times -- and I'll allow myself to be, er, seduced, as and when the need arises.'
'Deal,' I said, holding out my hand.
She shook it with a cool dry one of her own and smiled at me.
'So, how've you been, Harry?'
Tracy and I met at university. We were never more than close friends, but we did provide each other with a shoulder to cry on when one or other of our relationships went bad,
Half way through her second year, Tracy discovered she could earn herself enough money on the side to see her through her course. I tried to convince her not to do it but she was always a stubborn bitch and not only went ahead, but talked me into agreeing to act as her back-up. Fortunately, my help had only been needed once.
Having earned ourselves upper second degrees, I asked her what her plans were. She told me she intended working as an escort, probably until she was thirty.
'The money's good and the hours are short. What have I got to lose?'
'Your reputation? The respect of your parents and everyone else who knows you?'
'Shit, Harry, you don't think I'm going to tell my parents, do you? I'll say I've landed a job in London and promise to visit once a month. That'll be enough for them. As for my reputation -- no-one down there will know who I am. In fact, you're the only person who'll know and you already know I've been doing it. It hasn't stopped you being my friend.'
'True. Well, good luck and keep in touch.'
Surprisingly, we did, if you can call an email every six months and a card at Christmas keeping in touch. So when my circumstances required me to attend a week-end party, along with a wife whose attitude to fidelity was flexible, I thought of Tracy.
'Pretty good, thanks,' I smiled. 'You're looking even better than I remembered.'
'I work out three times a week, watch what I eat and have lots of sex. Of course I look good. How come you've never married?'
'Never found the right girl. Probably just as well. I mean, who, in this day and age, would imagine a company could work like this one does? One where the wives are expected to help their husband's careers by attending house-parties, turning a blind eye when their husbands fancy a little on the side and providing some on the side for the other husbands?'
'The papers would have a field day,' she nodded with a smile. 'Will you be having some on the side yourself?'
'It's pretty much expected of me. One big, randy family, that's us.'
Tracy laughed and glanced at her watch.
'I'll email you my bank details, Harry. This has been fun but I have to go. Gotta pay the rent somehow. Ciao!'
She rose, accepted a kiss on the cheek and strode gracefully away.
Ten days later I was driving us both to the country house where we would spend the weekend.
'Any idea how it's going to work?' she asked. 'I'm hoping it's going to be a bit more subtle than an auction, or a cattle market.'
'God, me too! No, we're required to dress for dinner and mingle over drinks beforehand. I doubt we'll be seated next to each other so, basically, you're going to have to play it by ear.'
'Fair enough. Where are the dirty deeds done? I mean, if I'm having my brains fucked out in, 'our,' room, where will you be? Wait, don't tell me, fucking someone else's brains out in her room?'
'Possibly. I gather there will be quite a few secluded little spots for illicit liaisons, so be prepared to be whisked away for a quickie.'
'Should I also be prepared to spend the night with someone's husband?'
'No. I believe one o'clock is the cut-off point after which everyone is expected to return to their loved one.'
'So you and I will spend most of the nights together?'
'Yes. But our deal doesn't cover you and me doing it, so don't worry.'
'I wasn't worried, Harry,' she said calmly. 'I just wanted to make sure we're on the same page.'
Things went much as I anticipated. We were shown to our room and informed drinks would be served at half-seven. I met some wives and one or two senior people while Tracy did the same elsewhere in the large entrance hall.
Dinner was duly served. I found myself seated between a fifty-year old woman and one my own age. Both were attractive and I had no problem chatting to either of them. Tracy was way down the room on the other side.
Dinner was followed by a couple of speeches welcoming us all, thanking us for our hard work and hoping we would relax and enjoy the weekend.
After coffee and brandy we could dance to the band in yet another reception room, stay where we were to chat, or find something more personal to do. Pretty soon, it was just me and the fifty-year old.
She was charming, amusing and had a filthy sense of humour. She was also completely shaved and had a gold bar through the hood of her clit.
In the two hours that we shared her bed, I helped her cum nine times. I came three times and, frankly, it seemed a fair result.
At one o'clock I tapped on the door of my room and , not hearing an answer, let myself cautiously in. The room was empty. The window was open and the bed looked hastily remade. From the bathroom I could hear the sound of the shower. It stopped and a few minutes later Tracy emerged wearing a long, white, fluffy robe, with her hair wrapped in a towel.
'Oh, hi. Harry. How was your evening?'
'Different. Interesting.'
'You and the MD's wife, huh?'
'She's the wife of the MD?' I gasped.
'Yes. Didn't you know?'
'How was I supposed to know? I've never been introduced to her and this is my first time here.'
'You should make it your business to know. I have. I've figured out who is best placed to help you up the corporate ladder and made a point of fucking two of them tonight. I'm pretty sure they were well impressed with your, 'wife.' I'll get to the rest before we leave.
'God, Tracy, there's no need to take it that seriously.'
'Of course there is. You've paid me a lot of money to fuck some of the guys here. Why not make sure the ones I do are the ones who can put in a good word for you? Bathroom's free, by the way.'
'No. That's all right. I showered before leaving.'
'Okay well, tell me which side of the bed you want and I'll catch some sleep.'
'Oh. Er. The right side's fine.'
'Okay.'
With that she shrugged off the robe, dropped the towel on top of it and climbed naked into the left side of the bed. I tried to ignore the surge of blood to my groin, undressed down to my shorts and slipped into the left side.
'You want to know how come your company gets away with this?' she asked conversationally.
'Very much so. If it all goes pear-shaped I'd rather not be caught up in it.'
'I doubt it will. Can I put the light back on?'
'Sure.'
She turned it on and hitched herself up against the pillows, keeping the quilt up under her chin. I did the same.
'I know it looks as though the wives are making themselves available for the sake of their husbands' careers,' she said. 'And some of the husbands -- like you, in fact -- feel obliged to join in, again for the sake of their careers. In other words, senior management have their employees by the short and curlies and ruthlessly make the most of it.'
'That's how it looks,' I agreed.
'Well, trust me, Harry, it's not like that at all. The wives are every bit as eager to be, shall we say, exploited, as their husbands are to exploit. This is just a glorified swing and swap club. Think about it. The older women get to have themselves a hot, young stud reminding them of how it used to be; the trophy wives can really let their hair down and get properly laid; the sweet young things can be fucked from pillar to post and tell themselves it's all for the good of their husbands' careers; and their husbands can let loose, get all the pussy they want, without once having to worry about repercussions. Fuck, Harry, whoever dreamed this up is a genius. I bet staff turnover is zero! You should consider yourself lucky to have landed a position. How often do they have these things?'
'Twice a year, I believe.'
'That's perfect. Often enough that the would-be cheaters are prepared to wait, infrequent enough to keep it fresh and interesting for all concerned. As a newcomer, you're going to be in demand tomorrow,' she predicted. 'You satisfied the MD's wife this evening, so now you're fair game for the rest. As your 'wife,' I'm going to be busy, too. Everyone always wants to try the newbies.'
'Shit. Are you okay with this?'
'Harry,' she laughed, 'of course I'm okay with it. It's what I do and it's what you're paying me for, right? Plus it's got the added bonus of allowing me to be myself. I can relax and actually enjoy being screwed, without having to do all the work to make sure the guy thinks he's the best stud I've ever met.'
'Thank God for that.'
'So you're covered for this time, Harry, but what about the next one? And the one after that?'
'Do you take advance bookings?'