The Bet part 2. The year my life changed.
It had been eighteen months since I'd made that bet with my husband. Soon to be ex-husband as it happens. It seems that the idea of his, up to then ever-loving, wife being a prostitute hadn't lived up to expectations. Perhaps because it wasn't some fantasy, but just a bet, a bet he didn't think I'd accept, let alone repeat. But I am getting ahead of myself, so let me rewind.
*****
I was describing my last, well second client, when we were interrupted by my mobile ringing.
"Hi," I said. Then listened.
"Hold on a mo, just need to check," I said, pressing the mute button.
"Darling, one of my clients, wants to book me again this weekend, an all-night booking," I said, gripping his cock through his trousers, which grew harder as I squeezed it.
"Well shall I sell myself again?"
He groaned as I unzipped him, his cock now hard.
"You want me all night," I said into the phone," as my hand yanked down hard on my husband's cock, then listened.
"Yes, of course I'll do anal," I almost purred, lowering myself so my mouth was level with my husband's cock.
"A couple of friends, no problem," I said. Then as I listened, my tongue darted out of my mouth, flicking almost snake like on the engorged head.
"Three grand, yes, no problem, I'll be there." I said, then my mouth enveloped his cock.
"You want to film it? Then an extra grand should cut it," I said, before returning to the cock in my hand.
"Yes, of course, a selection, tomorrow then," I said pressing end.
I dropped the phone on the floor, and took hubby cock deep into my mouth, then into my throat, my hand never still on the hard shaft. I felt him stiffen, the grunt, as he came in great ropes into my mouth, rope after rope, so much, so much cum.
"You're doing it again then," he asked unnecessarily.
"Absolutely, now, you owe me, I think! So tomorrow we go shopping, and I need some more clothes for work."
"Work?"
"Oh yes, I rather like my new job, so you can have that blow job, as a little thank you, from me."
"And the threesome with Debs?"
"Don't fucking push it!"...
*
I sat outside a bar overlooking the pretty harbour of Alghero, Sardinia, contemplating life, or should I say my life. My husband had paid up on our little bet, and as a side order I'd arranged a threesome with my friend Debs, but that's another story. It was the end of our first week here, and it was lovely, better than lovely, it was wonderful, everything I'd anticipated. But.
There is always a but, and in this one there was a great big fucking but. This holiday had been my dream for as long as I could remember, but something was missing, and I couldn't put my finger on what that something was. As I sat there alone in my thoughts, holding my almost empty coffee cup, those thoughts were interrupted.
"I wonder if I could impose, and take this seat, if it's not taken?"
I looked up, to see a smiling face, her blue eyes sparkled, amused by something, I didn't know then what that something was.
"Yes, please do," I replied, slipping back into my thoughts. My husband was off diving, something I have little or no interest in, although I can. The holiday was so chilled, so relaxing, perfect. And that was the problem, I think. No, not the holiday, us. Me and him, we'd made love twice since we'd been here. That was it, it was so fucking vanilla. There was no excitement, not like the when I was being paid to fuck. Was that really it?
"A penny for them?" She asked.
"Sorry, what?" I replied.
"A penny for them, for whatever you're thinking," she said, those blue eyes sparkling in the late morning sunlight.
"Oh, nothing really." I replied.
"Well, I am told I am a good listener."
"That's as maybe, but I don't know you."
"Then there is nothing to lose, now, another drink, and you can tell me, everything, I'm Monica by the way."
"Leigh," I replied.
We talked, and were halfway through lunch when she said, "so when are you going to actually tell me what it was you were thinking about?"
I took a deep breath. "I was thinking that sex with my husband is so fucking vanilla."
"Well, that's easy to fix, take a lover like I do," she said.
"I could, but well let's say a career opportunity has recently opened up, that would.... negate the need for a lover, a rather lucrative one."
Monica gave me a hard look, a very hard one. I was saved by the waiter asking if we wanted a pastry. Neither of us did, but she ordered two more drinks. Then she looked at me again, she said nothing, until our drinks were on the table and the waiter had moved away.
"So, this opportunity, you're freelance I take it?"
"In a manner of speaking," I replied.
"Good, no third party to negotiate with?"
"No, none," I replied.
"And your husband knows?"
"He knows."
"Good, the blue hulled yacht, you see it?"
I looked, then nodded my head.
"Be there at nine, wear a cocktail dress, you know the sort of thing. Five hundred euros."
I nodded my head again, my stomach in a knot, that tingling feeling between my legs.
"I'd have paid double, but I'll shout you lunch, so until nine."
With that she got up and left, not looking behind her.
I had just showered when my husband returned from his diving trip, all smiles.
"We're going for drinks with some guys tonight," he announced.
"You, go. I am going somewhere else," I told him.
"Where?"
"I've been invited to a party on a yacht in the harbour," I told him.
"By who?"
"It's by whom. My new friend Monica has invited me."
I dressed with care, makeup on the light side, because of the warmth of the Sardinian evening. The Victoria Secret undies that I'd brought with me as a special treat for hubby, though no stockings. Four-inch sandals that I'd packed for no obvious reason, and finally a floral Ralph Lauren cocktail dress.