Liz Evanier woke up with a groan. Her mouth was dry and apparently filled with some kind of fungus, and her head was occupied by someone using a pneumatic drill. Opening her eyes, she looked tentatively around and realised where she was: not home but in a 5-star hotel that had been home to her for the past 3 days. Slowly, as her memories of the previous evening began to re-appear in her hangover mind, she raised herself to sitting, looking around the semi-dark room and taking in the full extent of the mess.
Her clothes were liberally strewn around the floor, mostly close to the sofa and the end of the king sized bed. She was naked, no difference there as that was how she normally slept, but the obvious signs of extensive sex were far from normal. Her face and body were caked in left over cum, dried to crusty smears on her cheeks and lips, and over most of her torso and crotch. She felt sticky, smelly and she desperately needed to shower.
Easing her long, shapely legs from the sofa chair on which she found herself she noticed two things. Firstly was the extended wet spot under her left foot, which stained the chair cover. "Oh god what a mess" Liz thought, feeling a little nauseous at the amount of bodily fluids that must have created the wet patch. The second thing that struck her was the pile of dollar bills lying on the table to her right. She stared at them confused, there must be at least a couple of hundred there, possibly more? Anyway they weren't there before she went out last night so... And then it hit her, right between the ears if not the eyes. The guy who she had obviously fucked must have thought she was hooking and paid her! After the shock of that thought she felt numb, but slowly a tingling appeared in the pit of her stomach, quickly spreading down to her pussy. "Christ! He paid me like a fucking whore!" she mused, the thought actually exciting her despite the hangover.
Glancing at her clock she realised that today was leaving day and her works team were due to fly back home. It was now 9.30am and she was already late for breakfast, the others probably finished up by now. She wasn't hungry but a coffee would help clear her head, so she hustled off the sofa and headed to the shower. Three hours until they had to be at the airport, plenty of time to clean up, pack things and head downstairs to the breakfast room. Standing under the shower, the fine water needles stinging her skin and washing off the dried cum, she lathered up good and began to feel better, fresher, and recall some of what occurred last night.
Memories of the previous night were still hazy, but she recalled ending work around 7pm and agreeing to meet up at a night club just along the street from the hotel. Liz put on her best "out to party" dress, a red number with a plunging neckline that just barely made it into "business appropriate" and fixed her makeup. Looking at herself in the mirror she smiled - still looking good she thought, and determined to have a ball despite her wet blanket husband. "Ah fuck him!" she thought, checking the makeup one last time before heading out.
Her friends were already inside when she arrived, and she quickly joined the alcohol fuelled buzz by ordering her favourite vodka and soda. It wasn't long before the inhibitions melted and Liz was up and partying wildly. She recalled dancing close and sexy with at least four different guys, but also remembered taking a cab back to the hotel alone, well after her colleagues had left for bed. So how did she end up being fucked?
And then it hit her, she remembered being at the hotel bar ordering another drink when the guy came and sat beside her. He bought the drinks, made small talk and at some point, god knows when, she must have given him the impression that she would fuck him for money. Escorts working hotel bars are no unusual thing, so that explained the cash on the side table. Jesus! He must have been ready because there was so much cum. It was all over her really, but especially in her pussy and over her face, neck and tits. She was salt-crusted with it and the bed and mattress soaked. "I better get a move on" she told the woman in the bathroom mirror as she finished her hair. Gathering her belongings and wheeled suitcase, she made her way downstairs to the reception area, ready to leave for home.
******
In the two weeks that passed since Liz returned from her business trip, the routine had quickly re-established itself. Her boss at work was pleased enough with the outcomes, new business had been won, reports back had been favourable and no mention seemed to have been made about the goings on at the nightclub. Apparently letting your hair down and partying were a regular and expected feature - who knew? And Liz's late night indiscretions were known only to herself and the nameless "John" who had picked her up, paid her and rag-dolled her all around the bedroom in the early hours. Possibly the hotel barman knew, but that was no concern of Liz; after all what would he do about anything? No, the only fly in the ointment had been the ongoing deterioration in her relationship with her husband. The atmosphere was now even more strained, and to be honest she was happy enough not having to be close. There was some guilt feeling going on but honestly, she had caught Pete cheating more than once and she felt more and more excited as she thought about fucking and being paid for it. It was nasty, dirty, taboo; and she loved the thought of it. So long she had been the good wife suppressing her drive and capabilities to support a husband she loved but who was clearly not her superior.
To add spice to an already tasty bake she was looking at attending another work related event this coming weekend. This one was as wife, her husband having been invited once again to the company bi-annual corporate get together. A chance for all management grades to mingle socially and kiss corporate ass. God she loathed these things, had already suffered through four of them and was not looking forward to being at the fifth. At the exact moment these thoughts were crossing her mind, as she sat nursing a hot cup of coffee at the breakfast bar, her husband waleds into the kitchen. He headed to the percolator to pour himself a brew.
"Want any more in that cup Liz?" he asked, voice tight with trepidation at maybe getting another snipe from his wife.
"No thanks" she answered coolly, barely looking up from the rim of her cup. Moving to sit down opposite with his fresh coffee in hand, and clearing his throat a little before summoning the courage to speak Pete said "Liz you've been avoiding talking to me, and we need to talk."
"We need to talk?" Liz said coolly, her face turning stony at the prospect. "I think you'll find what we've needed to do is spend time together Pete. But all I see of you lately is your back as it heads out of the door to your fucking job."
Pete stards at her, his face reddening from the sudden burst of anger from the woman he truly loves. "Liz you know I'm in trouble at work since the arrival of that prick, Billy and his upstairs connections. I need to work even harder to try and keep my position! I hate having to do it, but I have no choice!"
Liz looked up, her eyes glazed from boredom hearing the same old cracked record. "Oh give me a break Pete, your imagination is running away with you. What evidence do you have that you're in trouble? Has your boss ever told you that? No, he hasn't because no you're fucking not!" Liz slammed the cup down angrily, standing to leave the kitchen.
Looking at his shocked, pained face she continued "And as for this shindig you're making us go to this Friday, I hate them almost as much as I hate your cowardly cringing to your employers. Why can't you grow a spine and tell them they're lucky to have you? I have 'slow-walked' my career to support yours ever since university. Now I have to live with a distant husband as well as not stretch my potential. I know I could be doing so much more."
Pete grimaced, swallowing hard as the bitter lash of Liz's tongue stings him once again. "It's not as simple as you think honey. Everyone uses these dinner dances to show off and impress. All the top bosses will be there, checking out the juniors and their other halves. I don't like it either but we have to put on a show for them."
Liz sighed wearily and sat back down, her face softening slightly. "OK ok I will do it again for you. I'll dress up sexy, look the part of the trophy wife for you and kiss ass with your bosses. But you have to man up Pete, you really have to man up. I love you but I need some changes around here"
Pete's face couldn't hide his lack of belief. "I'll do it this time Liz, I promise."
******
Liz stood in front of the bedroom's full length mirror, staring critically at the slim but curvy woman that reflected back at her. She was proud of her figure, proud of her long, dark auburn hair and the way it hung down to caress her shoulders. She was pleased with the dress she had chosen too; a blood red dress that clung tightly to all her body curves, it plunged deeply at the back, sides and at the front. To say it revealed lots of her bare skin and cleavage, both tits and ass, would be an understatement. It was also short; very short in fact, what some of her college buddies would have called a "submarine" dress - just below "see" view. Her pretty mouth curled into a sultry smile at that description, and memories evoked of her wilder student days.
At that precise moment her husband Pete entered and saw her standing by the mirror. His shock apparent on his face as he enquired "Liz, surely you're not wearing that dress to the company dinner?"
"Why not?" replied Liz, her tone more than a little irritated by his criticism, "you said you wanted me to dress to impress your bosses, so you don't think this will impress?" She spun around, hands on hips and weight on one long, shapely leg with eyebrows arched in clear annoyance.
"No honey that's not what I mean" said Pete with some alarm, knowing he has touched a sore spot. His wife has been tetchy for days, on the run up to attending his business dinner and he desperately wants things to go smooth this evening. "You look fantastic, it's just that..."
Before he can finish the sentence Liz interjects "Just that I look too slutty huh? I thought you'd say something like that; but you never take your eyes off the other wives and girlfriends do you? They dress every bit as slutty as this and you love it - all guys do, that's why I chose this one to give your competitors a reason to be jealous of you!"
