Always punctual, I arrived at the door of what I assumed was Mr. Colin Yearwood's apartment at 6:58pm, two minutes before the scheduled meeting and wondering how it had all come to this.
I am Louise Jenkins, a 37 year old married mother of one. My husband, Mark, is, unfortunately, an out of work, 45 year old construction worker. We have been married for almost 18 years now and, by most standards had done well for ourselves. We, or rather the Bank, own a plush 4 bedroom, 3 bathroom detached house in the better part of the city, we each drive a BMW 7 Series (Mark's only being 2 years older than mine) and are putting our only son, Michael, through the last two years of a very rewarding private school education with prospects for placement in some of the best Colleges and Universities in the country. Yes, life and the past 15 years had been good to us, even if I had turned into an awful snob who, despite the historically good money Mark earned, had made him somewhat of a social embarrassment these days.
I do not know how I became the driver in the marriage. Sure I am proud that I had carefully steered my family up the steep rungs of the social class ladder, but I had always fantasized that I would be swept off my feet by a refined, handsome James Bond type who would take care of my every need. Don't get me wrong, I love my husband and, when we were dating, I was the envy of all the girls in our neighbourhood, but, well, it seems somewhere along the way Mark had taken the path of least resistance. He is, or was, a great provider and loving husband, but he just seems to have no passion to advance. I have always stressed how important it is to be seen at the right social functions, volunteering at the most rewarding charity events and always, always looking ones absolute stunning best, but Mark has always been content, when not working, to go to watch his beloved football or potter at odd jobs around the house. I work hard at keeping up appearances and I would often feel drained from the efforts I made and more than a little angry that my family did not truly appreciate nor fully understand what I was doing for them.
Blessed with a slender 5'7" statuesque frame and ample poise gathered from more than 12 years of ballet classes, I had learned early in my working life as a beauty consultant in a major department store, how to put on just the right amount of make-up to bring out ones best features. A penchant for fitted clothing and high heels that complement my long slender legs, I was always the proverbial "eye candy" wherever I went and have always known how to leverage that one advantage blessed upon women. In my own eyes I have only one flaw, and that is the size of my breasts. Although they are still firm and pert, I have always wished I had been blessed with slightly more than a 34B bra size.
Career wise, I had managed to rise to the status of floor supervisor in the city's second largest bank and enjoyed being the Queen B(itch) over my swarm of some 30 staff, mostly other women. I know I could probably run this place better than most of the men I answer to, however, I have accepted the 'glass ceiling' that impedes my advance simply because I am a woman. The few managers that I regularly interacted with I made the effort to befriend or ingratiate myself to, if they were women, or simply manipulate if they were men. I particularly enjoyed manipulating the men, reveling in their discomfort whilst flaunting my sexuality and feel that I have the measure of each and every one of them. Or at least that is how it felt prior to my perfect world falling apart.
After the construction firm Mark worked for went bust I felt the full weight of our financial burden fall firmly on my shoulders and quickly realized it was beyond me. Before I knew it 12 months had gone by and Mark had been unable to find any work and we were rapidly running out of options. I now realized that we should have put more aside during the years of plenty because now we were living solely on credit and even that was drying up. Mark and I argued almost constantly now and all thoughts of intimacy had been lost after we missed the first mortgage payment. Mark had argued that we should sell whatever we could, such as the cars, to reduce the out-goings but I was not having any of that – no matter how much sense it made. I knew my pride was going to be our downfall if I was not careful.
When Mark and I were called in to meet with Mr. Yearwood, a Manager at the Bank, to discuss the deteriorating financial situation, I felt initially relieved that it was Colin who would be dealing with us. I liked Colin because he was quiet, trustworthy, and dependable. Unlike most of the other men I worked with, Colin was what I deemed "safe". Sure I would catch him furtively staring at me as I walked the banking hall, but I never felt threatened by him and considered him someone whom, if I needed to, I could easily manipulate and control. After all, Colin was just a man.
As expected, Colin had read Mark and I the riot act. The clock was now ticking and yet, even after that meeting I still felt that I could rescue the situation; that things would turn around and, more importantly, that Mark would find work. I was wrong on every single assumption I had made. By the time I was called in to see Colin again, some 5 months later, I had been forced to admit that the situation was hopeless. If the bank found out that things were much worse than they imagined; that since the initial meeting with Colin I had gone out and taken loans and credit cards with other institutions, then I would surely get fired. I knew what I had to do.
Without consulting Mark, I gambled that I could get Colin to make all my problems disappear. Colin was smart and well connected. Colin was someone I could control and I decided the best way to get to him would be to manufacture a sexually compromising situation which I could somehow exploit. Which is how, after being called into his office and breaking down like a blubbering idiot, I came to find myself knelt before him giving him what I knew would be the best blow job he had ever had.
What I had not expected was to find out how calm and assertive Colin was and how much I enjoyed being roughly grabbed by my hair and face fucked until I finally swallowed load after load of his thick cum down my throat. Conflicted at how things had worked out I had been speechless and more than a little aroused by Colin's strong dark inner persona. I was just thankful that I had secured Colin's help.
I had gone home that night and, for the first time in a long time, had initiated sex with Mark, much to his pleasant surprise. Despite everything, I realized I still loved Mark and lamented the loss of spontaneity and lust so prevalent in our early years. As usual I had taken command of proceedings and had ridden him until I felt the warm rush of his seed coat my insides. It had been brief, intense and yet unfulfilling as I could not get the image of sucking on Colin's cock out of my mind. It was not until long after Mark had fallen asleep did I slip downstairs to read the contents of the manila envelope Colin had given to me at our meeting.
Inside the envelope was an escape. It was everything Colin said it was, but at a price, the first installment of which is what lead me to be knocking on Colin's apartment door whilst Mark sat, blissfully unaware, at home watching his beloved football games.
###
"Good evening Mrs. Jenkins, do come in, I'm glad you could make it," said Colin as he took the time to allow his eyes to roam up and down my immaculately presented form. "May I take your coat?"
For the first time I began to have doubts, and felt very nervous. I said nothing. What was I supposed to do next? I felt that the time to change my mind had now passed as I entered the apartment. A growing part of me wanted to be here, wanted to be taken care of.
I began to undo my coat and as I opened it, it soon became apparent that Colin was very happy with what he had ordered me to wear. I was wearing a short, flared light black skirt which was three inches above the knee. It was obvious that I was wearing stockings since as I moved to take my coat off the skirt rose a little displaying the tops of my flesh coloured stockings. If I bent in any way forward, my suspenders and arse would clearly be on display. Up top, I wore a neat crisp white fitted blouse that created the illusion my pert little tits were ready to burst through at any moment. I had reached a balance whereby I looked like a girl who could be a strip-a-gram and yet still looked stunning.
As Colin took my coat, he blatantly eyed me up, looking up and down at me and mentally undressing me, lingering at my long shapely legs perched atop my 4 inch heel pumps and smiling as he did so. I felt both powerless and incredibly aroused at the same time. Not since my rather slutty college days, before I got pregnant, had I allowed men to so blatantly ogle me and at that moment I realized just how much I had missed it.
"This way please," said Colin. The apartment was enormous and judging by the corridor alone, luxurious. Expensive pictures were hung on the wall and there were opulent console tables with antique vases on them. Most contained fresh flowers. We walked down the corridor, passing a number of doors until we got to what looked like the study and I immediately could not help but see three cameras on tripods set up in a large triangle and centered on a red chaise longue positioned in front of a large oak desk in the centre of the room.
"Now, my dear, why don't you sit here," said Colin pointing to the red chaise longue.
I slowly walked to the chair and sat down, but as I sank into the deep upholstery, my skirt rose up my legs, and the tops of my stocking and flesh were now clearly on display, as were my white suspenders. I frantically tried to push the skirt down to cover myself up but to no avail. It quickly became apparent that whatever I did, whilst sitting, my legs and suspenders would be on display. All I could do was fold my hands in my lap and look up at Colin. He was just starring at my stocking clad legs, enjoying my discomfort. He looked at me, and he seemed to sense my nervous and aroused state, he seemed to sense I was now feeling excited about what was happening. I could also tell that he in turn was getting very hard as evidenced by the bulge in his pants.
Colin began to talk and to explain how the evening would proceed, including that the entire meeting was being filmed for the benefit of the private investors who would be able to solve my problems. I merely nodded, offering an occasional whisper to the odd question Colin asked about my background. Then, after a few minutes or so, Colin ordered me to stand up.
