This Fucing Economy

My wife Kayla and I came from meager backgrounds. We met in college, each of us the first from our families to attend. We graduated with degrees in our respective fields, and soon each managed to obtain employment in them. We spent most of our savings on the wedding since our families were unable to help much with the expense, and we signed a rent-to-own contract on a house, complete with a backyard swimming pool. We were excited to build a life together in our hometown.

A few months later, the largest corporation in the area announced that it was moving all operations out of the country. The whole area's economy suffered immensely. Kayla was laid off, and I managed to hold on to my job only after agreeing to a severe pay cut. Our remaining savings and Kayla's unemployment payments dwindled as Kayla struggled to find work. Soon, along with next month's due rent loomed the fear and the uncertainty that we would be able to afford the life we had planned together.

Thankfully, when things were looking their bleakest, an unusual opportunity came along.

One of the remaining industries in the area that remained was in online companies. Since they could be run from anywhere, they hadn't suffered as much as the rest of the local economy. One of the bigger online companies was an online dating site aimed at divorcees, and my wife had managed to secure a job interview. One of the main perks of the job was a signing bonus of just enough money for us to make the next month's rent, and Kayla was eager to impress and to secure the position.

Knowing she was going to be interviewing for work at an online dating site, Kayla wore a shorter skirt and showed more cleavage than she might at another interview, though I didn't find that out until I had returned home for work. Along with that mild surprise, she informed me of a couple other shocking outcomes of the interview. The first news she'd informed me of, and the good news, was that she had gotten the job, could start immediately, and that we could afford another month's rent thanks to the signing bonus. The other news was more of a shock, and was worse news than I even knew at the time.

During the interview, the interviewer and Kayla's new boss had noticed the ring on her finger. He'd asked her if she would be able to relate to the clientele, given that she was married. Panicking, thinking that the job was lost, she blurted out that she was recently divorced herself and knew from experience what divorced women felt and were looking for. She hadn't been able to quite bring herself around to taking off the ring yet.

She had started the job based on a lie, a lie that she would have to maintain or risk termination. After I'd recovered from my shock, I told her that I understood and that I would support her because she could support our dream home with me. Before we left for work the very next morning, her first day of work, she dressed professionally sexy, showing hints of breast and thigh, and she slipped the diamond from her finger and set it on the bedside table. It was Tuesday.

She informed me that night that everyone at the company was very nice, but that many of them had been asking about her divorce. She had been forced to build upon her lie, coming up with new details. They ranged from simple little lies, like that she was single and not looking for anything serious at the moment, to wilder ones. One of her co-workers, another divorcee named Ophelia, whom everyone called "Feely," had asked her if her house was lonely now that her husband had left, and she came up with a story about how her gay best friend "Ricky" had been kind enough to move in with her and help with bills and maintanence of the property, and to keep her company when she was feeling vulnerable following the divorce. The lies were beginning to snowball, and now I was wrapped up in them too.

By Wednesday, she had gotten the hang of her job, which mostly involved taking phone calls and answering e-mails, and had made a few friends, both male and female. By Thursday night, she had been flirted with by her coworkers, her boss, even Feely, who was apparently bisexual. She told me this while blushing, glowing almost. She had even been invited out for drinks with a group of them on Friday night. Not being able to come up with an excuse under pressure, she'd accepted and been told to wear something she can go to a night club in. She'd also heard a few stories that the employees got pretty wild hanging out together on weekends, drinking, dancing, sometimes leaving with one another or with strangers.

"I'm sorry about all this, I know I've gotten myself into something here. But maybe I can get out of it somehow."

"No, it's ok, honey. I know you're just trying to do what's best for us. You want to maintain a good impression at your job. You should go, but just be careful."

On her way out of the office that evening, Feely had said to her, "Hey, invite your roommate out, too, if you want," she told me, blushing again.

We'd decided that we weren't quite ready to be Ricky and Kayla, yet.

The next day, Kayla dressed in the morning in a dress with an even shorter skirt than usual, and lower cut, too, her breasts separated showing her bralessness. Her make-up went on a little thicker, and her hair a little fancier. She spritzed on some perfume and gave me a kiss before strutting to her car in high heels. My cock throbbed in my pants as she backed down the driveway.

I wiped the lipstick off my lips, finished my coffee, and left for work. While I sat on my desk typing away at my computer, I received a text message from Kayla:

"Feely keeps asking about u & the lies keep coming. U r very effeminate & r definitely a "bottom bitch" as Feely put it. Sry lol"

I sighed, "Say wut u have 2 say, I understand."

"If I keep this job they will meet Ricky & u will have 2 play the role. If I can be a divorcee hopefully u can b gay."

"I'll try."

I sighed and tried to get back to my work. The struggle to make ends meet was really starting to stress me out, but my love for my wife and my love of our house kept me going. Around one in the afternoon, I got:

"Feely asked me y we divorced & I said I cheated on you. I didn't want to drag ur name thru the mud. Then she started asking me about the details & I started talking about fucking ur friend behind ur back. I don't know where the lie came from but it really turned me on. I'm so ashamed."

"It' ok everyone gets turned on thinking about sex I think. This job just keeps getting weirder & weirder."

"I know its like I'm a spy or something. Its almost kinda fun lol"

followed by:

"ur single, too, btw"

"Lovely. I wouldn't want to be tied down."

I hoped that my sarcasm got across without being to hurtful. Luckily she just responded with an "lol" and I got back to work.

At around three, especially on Fridays, I always get antsy about work almost being over. Apparently, so does everyone at divorceedating.com, because at 3:15 Kayla sent me:

"omg were allowed 2 drink @ work starting @ 3 on Fridays. I just took a shot of tequila!"

"U r so lucky. I am so jealous."

"We r going 2 the bar rite after work. I might already b drunk by then lol"

"U r going to need a ride, then?"

"Maybe. I'll let u kno."

When the clock struck five, I was already on my way out the door when I received:

"Mat is hitting on me so hrd I'm nly flirting bak a little I dnt wnt to lead him on"

The uncharacteristic typos indicate to me that Kayla is indeed a little drunk.

I texted back, "Be careful. Ur my wife. U only play a divorcee on TV."

I have no idea if she got the joke or not. She didn't respond.

I went home, ate dinner, watched TV and sweated. The strangeness of the situation made me very uncomfortable. As did my "divorced" wife drinking out at a dance club with "Mat." My worrying prompted me to send Kayla a text that read, "Let me kno if u need a ride. Maybe act 2 drunk 2 stay out & say u need 2 go home."

Surprisingly, she sent back this text:

"OMG I told Feely u wear panties & mascara lol she wants 2 meet u so bad! U shd cm out & dance w us we r havun so mch fun! Im drunk lollll"

I was a little alarmed. She sent another.

"Commmee! Wear ur gayst cloths & a pair of my panties & put mascara on it will be so fun! Mayb cut off a pair u jeans shorter the beter lol"

"What the fuck?" I said aloud. Another:

"U hav 2!"

And another:

"Do ur hair w gel & put some colon on."

"I mn cologn lol!"

She didn't seem to notice she'd misspelled cologne again, but she sent me one more text followed by a picture message before I could think of any replies.

"I wil fuk u so hard <3"

The picture, clearly taken up her skirt, showed her bald-shaven, visibly wet pussy and the undersides of two perfect ass cheeks. I could only hope that she was in the bathroom and that was why her panties were down. My heart was beating so fast I thought it might burst, and my cock was hard as a brick.

She sent back a smileyface, and I dressed up as well as I could to fit the role. First I found a pair of jean shorts from my wife's chubby years and pulled them tightly up over the lacy thong uncomfortably wedging itself up my ass. The shorts were shorter than I'd ever imagine wearing if our home wasn't at stake, and the thong peeked over the top just a little on the sides. I shrugged. I carefully ripped the sleeves off an old pink button-up and put it on with no shirt underneath. I sprayed some cologne and spiked my hair into the most stylish fauxhawk I could muster. I pulled my nicest sneakers on with no socks. I don't know why my mind stereotypes a flambouyantly gay man as not wearing socks, but perhaps I was just developing my character.

I practiced my voice into my phone recorder and played it back. I decided the most convincing and convincingly effeminate voice was similar to my own but a little more drawled and of a slightly higher pitch. I talked to myself in the mirror, practicing "I'm Ricky," calling everyone "girl" and saying things I would never otherwise say, like, "preach sister." Which I think might be mincing stereotypes, but pretending to be a fictitious effeminate "bottom bitch" isn't an exact science.

"Leaving now," I sent Kayla. I got in my car and drove to the bar.

Just as I pulled into the parking lot, I received "omg r u comingg"

This indicated to me that either she was very impatient to see me or had blacked out from alcohol consumption and now had no recollection of parts of our conversation. I was hoping it was the prior, or things could get dicey out there.

I texted back, "walking in now," as I tried unsuccessfully to adjust my wedgie more comfortably and practiced an effeminite strut up to the bouncer. The muscular, bald black man looked at down at my ID, up at my mascara, and smiled before putting a stamp on my hand. "Thanks sweetie," I said, and he beamed wider.

I was greeted by a short woman in her mid thirties, plump in all the right places, as she squeezed me in a hug. "You must be Ricky!" she said boisterously, biting her little pink tongue between plump red lips and tucking a strand of shoulderlength brown hair behind her ear. "Kayla has told me all about you. I'm Feely."

"Ooh, girl. Kayla didn't tell me what a little hottie you are. Girl, you are smokin," She glowed with the compliment. "Where is Queen Kayla at right now?" I asked.

Feely's face undertook a devious transformation as she swayed slightly with drunkenness. "Your roommate is on the prowl tonight! Check her out." Feely came to my side and wrapped an arm around my waist, pointing with her other manicured hand at the dance floor.

Kayla was moving her ass like she had a hula hoop, but the thing wrapping itself around her waist was a man's arm, Mat's I can only assume. Each time her hip rotation worked itself back, the man worked himself forward, pushing his crotch into her ass. Kayla's cleavage glistened the sweat she was working up dancing sexy with other men. This night was likely to prove even more uncomfortable than I'd imagined trying to keep up with the lies, if that's even possible.

I worked my eyes away from her, trying not to break character, "Well, I'll let her finish her little dance. What are you and I getting up to, Feely girl?"

"We're taking shots!" Said Feely emphatically grabbing my arm.

"Girl, I drove."

"We'll take a taxicab. Now drink with me, Ricky."

I couldn't think up an excuse fast enough, and soon a second shot of liquor was burning its way down to my belly. We ordered some mixed drinks and another round of shots to be sent over to the table. I followed Feely's swaying round ass to a booth where three men and a women sat drinking and laughing.

I was introduced around to Nora, an accountant of some sort, and her tall boyfriend Mitch, and two other handsome employees of the website, Glenn and Chris. I sipped on some fruity cocktail as they told me how glad they were to have Kayla on board, and some about how much fun she seemed to be having.

I looked back at the dance floor. Kayla had her hands pressed flat against the ground and was shaking her as up and down rapidly. Her tits swung nearly popping a nipple and her skirt seemed bunched up in the back. Her eyes were closed and it was rather far away but it seemed like she was biting her lip. Mat had a handhold on each hip just above the ass cheek and was pulling her back into him.

Chris said to Glenn, "That girls sure knows what to shake and how to shake it."

Glenn replied, "Yeah, she's sure one fine piece of ass," before looking in my direction and saying, "And her roommate's not half bad, either."

Feely whispered to me, "Glenn's bi if you're interested."

Things kept getting more complicated, more uncomfortable, and I already had a thong wedged up my ass. A waitress brought 6 shots to the table and we ordered more and toasted to new friends and great coworkers. I was starting to get hot in the face from the drinks. Mat arrived leading Kayla by the waist and scooted into the booth before Kayla took a seat right on his lap.

"Hey, bitch. Remember me?" I said, trying to sound effeminate but also trying to hint at Kayla that I was more than a little uncomfortable with the situation.

She eagerly leapt to her feet and I rose to mine to meet her. She swung her arms around my neck and drunkenly squealed, "Ricky, you came! I can't believe how sexy you look." She reached down into my shorts and grabbed a hold of the underwear on each side and pulled it up. "Let's see what color you're wearing." She looked down. "White! How saintly of you." Even drunk, Kayla hadn't lost her wit.

I dramatically acted embarrassed while the others left, then I kissed Kayla, just a quick peck on the lips, to let her know there were no hard feelings.

When I sat back down, Kayla let a couple of her fingertips trail their way down my chest through the open v unbuttoned and smiled widely. I realized she was bent at the waist and pointing her ass directly at Mat when I saw his intent stare behind her. "Have you met everybody?"

I repeated their names back to her with small comments like, "the sexy" and "that cutie," until I got to Mat and said, "I don't believe I've had the pleasure, hot stuff." I wondered if I was pouring it on thick, but I didn't want to be a half-way "Ricky."

Mat and I shook hands, and I kept my wrist limp in his firm grip while we introduced ourselves. "Well I hope I'll be seeing more of you," I said cryptically.

Just then, the shots arrived, and their predecessors were kicking in making my knees swim and my head fog up. Nora and Mitch excused themselves as having to be home early, and the two extra shots went to Kayla and "Ricky," everyone's new friends. Another down the hatch for both myself and my wife, who had returned her tush to Mat's lap. I kept up the charade and got to know a little about Feely, whose eyes always sparkled with mischief, Glenn, who claimed himself as "dominant in the bedroom," and very little about Chris, who was becoming incoherently drunk. Kayla and Mat whispered in close conference most of the time and contributed very little to the conversation. She seemed to be slowly rocking in his lap, and her skirt was creeping pretty high up her uncrossed legs. I wondered if she was wearing panties. Not only had I been getting quite drunk, but by this time my bladder was near to bursting. I excused myself to the bathroom, leaving Kayla and Mat unmonitored but hopeful that my wife was still only 'in character' and hadn't lost herself in drunkenness and lust.

As I was leaving the bathroom, Chris was drunkenly stumbling in. He accidentally placed his hand on my bunched-up package to keep balance and I oddly started to feel an erection start to form as I approached the table. I knew there would be no hiding it through the girly shorts and women's thong, so I didn't try to. I walked with a proudly growing tent back to the table where I found Feely standing and Glenn patting the seat next to his and rattling a fresh cocktail from side to side with his other hand. He draped his arm over the back of the seat above my shoulder as I sidled in beside him. I instinctively set my hand on his knee and he placed his over mine. "Ricky, tell me little more about yourself. I'm particularly interested in your bedroom habits."

"I'm surprised Kayla hasn't already given you a play-by-play by now." I pursed my lips while I awaited his response.

Kayla was too enthralled in deep conversation with Mat to comment or even to notice that I've called her out by name. Matt's hand has crawled up Kayla's side and grips her ribcage just below the tit. She cranes her neck back in a way that I assume is uncomfortable to both face him and sit with her ass wrapped around his cock. With rhythmic pulses, she tenses her body against his. I watch as Mat gives her a gentle kiss. At first she doesn't resist, and he slips her a few lashes of his tongue before pulling away. I hesitate just a moment too long in my conversation with Glenn, who was saying,

"Oh, she's only told me that you're a little submissive. But what exactly that entails..." he let the sentence drift off like smoke from a blown-out candle.

I just laughed a laugh higher in pitch than my usual, and I blinked, or winked, maybe leaned a little closer to him. I couldn't form a response into words. Maintaining character was becoming difficult.

Feely broke the moment between myself and Glenn momentarily by scooting in beside me to the outside, pushing Glenn and I closer together. In the commotion of the movement, Glenn had moved my hand up to his cock, and it was hard. Out of instinct I squeezed it.

I leaned in close to Glenn, and, giving his cock another couple gentle tugs before letting go, I whispered, "Maybe we should get another drinks before bar close and we'll just see where this goes."I returned my hand to my own lap, unconsciously resting my wrist across my yearning erection.

Glenn smiled and nudged his head toward the tray of booze newly arrived as if on cue.

We all took shots, laughed, there was some incoherent yelling as Chris wobbled his way back from the bathroom. Feely jumped up, grabbed Chris around his neck and immediately started making out with him, her tongue diving into his mouth. Chris' drunken instincts were wise enough to take advantage and grab her plump round ass. He seemed to be pulling her cheeks apart and I stared dopily at the curve-accentuating silk skirt. I saw no panty lines. The veins in my wrist rippled against the veins in my hard cock.

Glenn grabbed my attention away from Feely's ass, and though my vision passed Kayla and Mat very quickly, it seemed as though he may have been cupping the undersides of her breasts. Glenn whispered booze breath into my nostrils, but I couldn't make out a single word. "What?" I said, perhaps too loudly, and perhaps not quite effeminately enough.