All characters in this story are 18 years of age or older.
*
Paul Mackenzie sat glued to the newspaper. There were few advertisements for positions in his field and none at a senior level. It had been three weeks since Powell and Powell had downsized him out of his cushy salary and corner office and he was getting desperate. For one thing he hadn't told Sarah that he'd lost his job and he knew from their dwindling bank account that he'd have to tell her soon. He scanned through the remaining classifieds finding nothing until his eyes landed on a small display ad.
Gentlemen's Club requires hostesses.
Top pay for minimal hours.
Must be open minded
... and very attractive.
He looked at Sarah cooking bacon at the stove. She was definitely attractive although you could hardly call her broad minded. A typical "good girl" from a strict family, Sarah regarded sex as the sacred obligation of marriage that all good wives must endure. Yet, in spite of her straight-laced upbringing, her natural beauty had made her the target of licentious leers since she'd entered puberty.
She pretended to be oblivious to all of the unwanted attention her figure garnered but Paul felt she was very much aware of her effect on men. Whereas many women would have enjoyed the attention and made the most of their assets, Sarah's answer had always been to wear loose clothing and down play her assets.
His musings took him back to his own situation and Paul even wondered if his wife's prudish attitude hadn't had something to do with his becoming expendable in his job. She'd been dancing with his boss at the Christmas party and didn't like it when he playfully pulled her in close. When his hand dropped down and gave her ass a little inappropriate squeeze she made a scene and embarrassed them both. The boss never let him forget it. Every chance he got he'd refer facetiously to "sexless Sarah" or make a remark about her probable sexual preferences in the crudest terms. It was a frequent joke among the guys in the office and Paul went along with it to save face.
Since that time, however, Paul would not stand for her dressing down. He looked for opportunities to take her out dolled up in a short skirt, high heels and a sexy top even though it made her more than a little uncomfortable. The fact that it did make her uneasy was the point. He felt that if forced her to be more aware of her body and herself as a sexual being she'd eventually loosen up her attitudes and shed the prudish image she had. Besides, he liked to see other men ogling her and watch them nudging each other to make their sly remarks if they caught a glimpse of her cleavage or a stocking-clad thigh.
When Sarah would catch them looking her cheeks would flush and she'd tug down the hem of her skirt, quickly glancing away to avoid eye contact. Still, her long legs were hard to hide in a skimpy skirt and keeping her knees pressed together was a constant chore. She'd try crossing her legs demurely, but that didn't work either as the skirt would ride up even further. Most often, it was at Paul's insistence that they'd sit at the bar perched on the high stools that added to her sense of exposure.
Sarah tried to talk to Paul about it but he made her feel small minded and prudish. She wanted him to understand how she felt, explaining that she was constantly worried that they would run into someone she knew. But he just laughed and said, "yeah, wouldn't it be great?"
Later, when they were in bed at home, he'd remind her of how the men were looking her at her legs and breasts and talking about her in the lewd way that men often do. He teased her by mentioning names of specific guys he knew she disliked and telling her how much they'd like to see her "putting it out there".
When she'd been in high school she'd had an incident with one particular boy she had liked. He'd called her a "cock teaser" when she wouldn't put out for him. Paul always brought his name up. Each time he'd embellish the tales a little more, telling her stories the boy had supposedly spread of her being "easy" and "giving great head".
Sarah was always mortified by her husband's accounts and one night she actually cried in humiliation. Paul felt bad momentarily until he slid his hands between her legs and was surprised to find how wet she was. In the midst of her shame, her thighs rolled open with no resistance and her mons rose to meet his hand. "Did you suck them off like they said Sarah?" he whispered.
"Nooo!! She had wailed as a powerful orgasm gripped her belly. She came impressively in an unexpected mixture of arousal and mortification.
¬¬¬________
Paul glanced back at the paper and his eyes were drawn to the ad once again. He couldn't help but think of the money she could make to help them out of their financial problems. It would just be ¬¬for a short time until he could get back on his feet. If she took another stint at the library it wouldn't help. Not with what they pay. However, he knew girls in the Clubs could make great money. The only question was how to get his wife to do it.
Sarah's voice broke through his reverie as she ladled scrambled eggs onto his plate. "Are you going to go in late today?'"
He sat for a long thoughtful moment looking up at her. "I lost my job," he blurted at last. "I no longer have a job to go to."
Sarah stood in disbelief, not knowing whether Paul was serious.
"I've been wanting to tell you. I just couldn't find the words."
"What are you going to do? How are we...?" she began.
"I don't know." Paul replied. "There just doesn't seem to be jobs out there for thirty-five-year-old executives."
"I could get a job," Sarah volunteered.
"You couldn't make enough to carry us through the short term until I find something else," he responded grimly.
She was silent for a few minutes pondering the sad truth. "What are we going to do?" she finally asked.
"Lose the house, sell one or both of the cars and move to a cheaper neighborhood," he blurted disconsolately.
The tears came then. "Oh no... Not this place... We've worked so hard... All of our friends are here."
Paul let her wallow in her despair before adding fuel to her sense of loss. "We could probably have an auction and get rid of a lot of stuff." He offered mournfully. "The Royal Dalton's alone might raise enough to get us through for a few weeks."
The tears came harder then. The Royal Dalton's were a special gift from her mother.
"I'd never sell them," she vowed.
"You may not have any other choice." Paul pointed out.
"I could go back to work at the library."
" What you can make shuffling books won't pay what we need to survive."
The tears came again and this time she was quiet for a long time, defeated by the news and their lack of prospects.
After a while, Paul spoke and said. "I know this guy. He owns a club. A gentleman's place. I could ask him if he has something that pays a decent buck.
