"Wife on call" - читать интересную книгу автора (Taylor Ron)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Ms. Hagen lit a cigarette and took a solemn, thoughtful drag. She offered it to Pam who shook her head. "I don't smoke. But I think I could use another shot of that Irish whisky."

Pam sipped at her Jameson's, leaving a thin lipstick smear on the glass, and Ms. Hagen took the glass, drinking from the same place, so that a little mark of her own lipstick blended with Pam's on the rim of the glass. Somehow it seemed very appropriate; but how much more appropriate to merge their lipstick the right way, and Pam turned Ms. Hagen's face toward her own, mouth puckering.

"Mmmmm," she purred as their lips came together, warm, wet, tongues tangling languidly where they kissed.

"Mmmmm, indeed," Ms. Hagen sighed. "You're everything Jack Pendexter promised, and more besides." She slipped her arm around Pam and cuddled close. It felt weird, but so right to be lying there, another woman stretched beside her, hard, apple breasts grazing her flesh as a constant reminder of the sex they'd just shared. And between her legs was still another, memory, a sweet, sweet memory indeed. Pam's cunt ached and so did her asshole, but the aching was the most delicious she could recall in a long, long time. She brought her thighs together, squeezed them upon her snatch, and that aching spread through her body. Beautifully.

"Why did you call me?" she asked at last, while Ms. Hagen blew smoke rings into the air.

"If you still don't know why I called you, perhaps you belong in some other business. Of course, this is just a hobby with you anyway, isn't it?" Pam lifted her eyebrows quizzically. "Isn't it?" Ms. Hagen repeated. "I mean, according to Jack, you're only available afternoons. Which indicates that you have something else to do the rest of the day. Unless my eyes deceive me, that something else includes being a lovely young housewife to some man who has no idea how you spend your afternoons. Don't hold your breath that way. It's bad for your health. How do I know you're a housewife? Well, that white mark around your third finger, left hand, for one thing." Pam looked down quickly. There was a white mark, even though she'd left her wedding ring at home as always. She blushed.

"No matter," Ms. Hagen wept on. "You're very good, easily the best I've ever run into. As Jack said, balling you isn't like balling a whore at all. You don't mind if I call you a whore, do you? I rather like the word. It makes me feel depraved and degenerate when I go to one. And I do, occasionally. Not at home, because there's no need. You'd be surprised how many women in New York City are available, to a woman who knows how to gauge availability. On the road – well, it's harder to find the kind of woman I enjoy being with, so I generally rely on whores. Mmmm, Patricia darling, you're in a class by yourself!"

Pam asked, "Are you on the road often?"

Ms. Hagen smiled and stubbed out her cigarette. "Occasionally. I haven't been here in God knows how long – some company business that was delegated my way – much rather be traveling to L.A., which is nearly as good as New York, but, ah Patricia, I don't feel this was a wasted trip. Not at all." She let her fingertips glide slowly across Pam's nearest tit and she smiled, again to see the nipple struggling to stiffen itself. Her fingers closed languidly upon the nipple and she squeezed till Pam moaned and covered her hand with both of her own, clutching Ms. Hagen to her throbbing breast.

"Are you a lesbian?" Pam asked, wishing the question didn't sound so inane.

"Not really," Ms. Hagen said, toying with Pam's boob. "I prefer women, of course, and I think I perform splendidly with them; but if the right kind of man turns up I'm very willing to spread my legs and let him shove his big hard cock up me. He has to be a certain kind of man, though. Macho, but not gross about it. Handsome, but not too pretty. I met one today and I may give him a tumble before I fly home. Shouldn't be too difficult to get into his pants, especially since he already has reason to be grateful to me."

She sighed, and Pam did too, for a basic realization had just occurred to her. No matter how exciting this afternoon had been – for both of them – she was still nothing more to Ms. Hagen than a casual whore, whose services the older woman had purchased at a specified price. As proof of that, Ms. Hagen was even now talking offhandedly about the possible seduction of some man, caring not at all that a little blaze of jealousy had begun to burn in Pam's breast.

Jealousy? Why should Pam be jealous? After all – she was only a whore, rented out by the hour to anyone who could afford her price. But if she was only a whore, why had she responded so fantastically to Ms. Hagen and her lesbian lovemaking? Why had she performed spontaneously and excitingly actions she'd never really contemplated before in her life?

She looked at Ms. Hagen and found her exquisitely beautiful to look upon. Sex had softened the green eyes, made the strongly chiseled face relax tellingly. Pam's lipstick was still smeared on Ms. Hagen's firm, supple body, and Ms. Hagen's lipstick was all over Pam. If it weren't for Kerry, she'd never wash those smears away, she'd keep them as souvenirs of her lesbian defloration.

Kerry!

"Oh, my God," Pam said suddenly. "What time is it?"

"Almost four," Ms. Hagen said.

"I'm sorry," Pam apologized, dismounting from the bed and gathering up her clothes. "I have to go." She did, indeed. Kerry would be home from work soon, and there was that cocktail party tonight. She'd have to look for an appropriate dress. Oh, shit, there wasn't enough time! She'd make time. And the hundred and fifty dollars from Ms. Hagen was already earmarked for that new dress. God, Pam hoped she could find something before the stores closed and still get home in time to fix Kerry a decent meal. Maybe she'd stop at the fish and chips place and get a takeout dinner. Yes. That would give her a little extra time to hunt for a new dress.

"I'd like to see you again before I fly back to New York, Patricia," Ms. Hagen called from the bed.

Pam turned. For the first time since she'd begun her career as an afternoon call girl she wanted to throw her alias out the window. It hadn't been like whoring when she was busy with Ms. Hagen, and she wished she could be simply Pamela Wilson right now, not some invented creature named Patti Wright. Oh, the hell with it!

"I'm busy tonight," Ms. Hagen added, "but I suppose you are, too. Do you have any free time tomorrow?"

Pam chewed her lip. She'd never worked an extra day before, only her normal Tuesday through Thursday schedule, but this wasn't quite like working. Part of her was unsure, but the other part of her wanted very much to see Ms. Hagen again, and not necessarily on a business arrangement. She'd learned today that her body was capable of a great many new and delightful responses, and she wanted to indulge those responses again, as soon as possible. But did she dare? Was she getting into something she couldn't handle? "Call me," she said. "Leave your number with my service. If I can – if I possibly can…" She couldn't say any more. Tugging her sweater down, Pam went out the door in search of her hat and coat and shoes.

She was in the kitchen when Kerry, entered the front door, and her heart slowed a telltale beat. The fish and chips were warming in the oven, and she was stirring a pan of mixed vegetables on the stovetop. God, how could she face him? Today, for the first time, she'd been unfaithful to him, in her mind and her heart, the only places it really counted. All those other days she'd merely rented out her pussy, but today she'd gotten involved. All the way down the elevator, constantly as she shopped for a party outfit, all the way home too – she'd been thinking of nothing except Mr. Hagen and sex with her on that hotel bed. If she hadn't already spent the money, Pam would gladly have returned to the Hartford House and reimbursed the woman, then begged her for another go.

Of course the idea had been building in her head since yesterday, whet she and Mr. Ford watched his dirty movies, but she had never guessed that her mind curiosity would be fulfilled, and so Goddamned soon! Jesus! She had always known men were swapping her number around – that was SOP for call girls – but it had never crossed her mind that one of those men might pass the number along to a woman. Well, today she'd found out, and it had been fantastic. Kerry came into the kitchen and Pam swallowed the lump in her throat, wondering if she could possibly allow men – allow any man – to touch her again.

"Hi, babe," he whispered into her ear, and then his lips closed upon the lobe and she felt his warm, well-remembered tongue lick gently at her flesh. He put his hands on her waist and leaned against her ass, and she could feel something very hard and solid inside his pants. "Brought home a couple of things for you," he added. "Here's the other one." And his hand moved around in front and it was full of a bouquet of white roses, Pam's favorite. She smelled, sighed, and tried to collect herself.

Pam turned, took the roses. He was still leaning close, and now his boner, an erection that filled the front of his pants, pressed against her front. She'd bathed after coming home, mostly to remove the lipstick smears on her body, and right now she was wearing only a short robe and ice-blue panties. Kerry was fully dressed, but his cock was so blatantly erect he might as well have been naked, rubbing her the way he was.

"Are you all primed for the party?" he asked, kissing her neck.

"Mmmm-hmmm," she sighed. "But do we really have to go?"

"Ten-four," he said, undoing the sash of her robe. The garment opened and her tits spilled out, creamy-white, the pink nipples flushed still, in memory of the wonderful sucking and fingering they'd gotten a few hours ago from Ms. Hagen. One touch of his eager hands and her nipples stood up like pink flagpoles. "Oh, yeah," Kerry enthused, squeezing her nips between his fingers, his hands possessive and grasping on her flesh.

Pam sighed again, her tits lifting, swelling, and then his mouth was on hers and she sidled away from the lit stove behind her. When they got to the dishwasher, Kerry braked her with his leg and one of his thumbs hooked in the waistband of her panties.

"I can't help myself," he said, tugging the little blue undies down, "you just do something to me. It's called 'hardening my pecker'. Feel?"

He leaned in again, and this time his pants-covered bone touched Pam's furry twat. She was exquisitely tender there, thanks to the rough, incredibly erotic handjob Ms. Hagen had given her, and the very touch of him sent shivers of pain up and down her stomach.

"We'd better hurry," he observed, unzipping himself and hauling out his cock. It was a struggle getting it free, because he was so hard and the pants fit so tightly around his cock, and before he could expose himself properly he had to unbelt and unbutton his trousers. But when he did, his big stiff dick lunged out, and the hot ruby tip bounced onto Pam's taut stomach. She lifted up the back, and his knob slithered through her bush, and she wondered if she could go through with this at all. Making it with a man – even a man she loved – now – after what had just happened to her – could she?

"What about dinner?" Pam moaned, one of her tits a prisoner in his kneading hand.

"We can eat any time," he smiled, "but right now I feel like fucking." Kerry bit her chin. "Oh, don't worry, kid. Remember – we have that party to go to, and most likely we'll be too drunk to do anything but sleep when we get home. Mmmm, spread 'em for me, puss, spread 'em, yeah, let Daddy kiss you with his cock – Jesus, you're soaking wet! Say 'ahhhh' – oh, shit!!"

And with that he stuffed his tool up her slit, and she felt her cuntal walls expanding to make room for him, and suddenly he was in her to the balls and she was a live, squirming mass of flesh around him.

"Oh, Godddd…" Pam's voice was a quivery cry, and she had to grab his shoulders before she collapsed heavily upon him.

"Oh, Christ, you're hot inside, baby, and so wet I don't think I can get a foothold – yeah – screw yourself on me – mmmm, baby, you're doing it – fuck me, fuck me like a man – suck it up your pussy, Pam – God, do it, baby, do it for me…"

And, God, she was doing it, she was moving in quick, hungry plunges and lifts, dragging his cock all the way up her rippling, slippery-slick cuntal tube, then unsheathing him till only the fat horny head of his dong remained inside her, throbbing just within the portals of her pussy lips – and then swooping down again, swallowing him with vaginal hiccups that made him groan as if his balls were caught in a tightening vise.

"Yes," she panted, "let me have it, Kerry, take me like a whore, screw me till I can taste your fat beautiful cock in the bottom of my throat…"

And she meant it. Oh, Jesus, she meant it! Her cunt slavered for him as it had never slavered before, and she couldn't get enough of the rigid organ he kept jamming into her. The itch between her legs grew with maddening speed and intensity, and he couldn't fuck her fast enough to quell that desperate itching.

Or could she? Pam lifted one leg, wrapped it around Kerry's calves, and she plastered herself to him, still bobbing up and down on the rigid stalk of his dick, her ass swaying from side to side as her pussy gobbled him with gusto. She reached low, into his undone pants, and grabbed a handful of his ass, her fingers slipping into his crack where they could get at his balls from behind. God, such big, lovely balls too! She wished she could be down on him right now, sucking his cock and his stones with a hot mouth and frisky tongue – but she wanted it this way, too, his cock in her twat, big and hard and driving, sending her up the wall as he thrust, each stroke bringing her that much closer to ahot creamy come.

It hadn't changed. Nothing had really changed, Pam decided, her cunt twisting and twitching on Kerry's dong. She wrapped herself around him, drawing strength from his hard muscular body and his hard muscular dick, and she shared a little of her own weakness with him, but he was top enwrapped in his pleasure to notice. So much the better.

Oh, God, she thought, I've been such a fool! Going out day after day and whoring my body for the sake of money I don't need and cheap thrills I could have done without, too. But it was over. Today she'd crossed the line between adventure and danger, and the thought of how close she'd really come was a constant ache in her bosom, a flash of pain through her mind. Yes, it was all over. Definitely. Irrevocably. Patricia Wright had died sometime between four and six o'clock this afternoon and for Patricia Wright there would be no resurrection.

"I can't prop you up any more," Kerry muttered. "I've had a hard day. Let's lie down before my legs give out."

"Don't take it out of me," Pam implored. "Let me feel your cock inside me every minute of the day, every day, from now on. For God's sake, don't take it out."

He moved slowly, carefully, bringing her with him, and his pants fell as he settled onto, the floor. Pam ground her loins against him, making sure that his cock stayed within her clutching twat, and she came to rest upon his lap. Kerry lay back, thrusting up as his head and shoulders touched the floor, and he reached for his wife's pert, perky ass. She squealed when he grabbed her, and she began to ride him with a passion that made her stand-up fucking look tame by comparison.

She reared up, almost to the tip of his throbbing pecker, and she slammed down with sure, knowing wiggles of her ass, feeling him thrust to the very mouth of her uterus, the tip of his cock battering hard upon her cervix and her only regret was that she couldn't open a little wider and suck him up her belly, nestle his loving tool in the warm basket of her guts and, at last, feel him shooting off his load of thick cummy sperm deep in there.

"Make me come," she groaned, slamming down upon him. His nuts rocked beneath her when she plummeted, and the stones were big and thick, swollen with lust just the way his prick was swollen with lust. Pam wiggled about on him, squirming excitedly, allowing his dick to rotate inside her tight glove of a twat, and she felt the come begin to roll down her tubes, irresistible, totally irresistible, and the hot juices oozed from her gash, wetting his pubic hair and the base of his dong.

"Aaagghhhh!" Pam whined, throwing her head back and rocking down, down, down upon him. She swayed where she rode high above her husband, and she'd have fallen if he hadn't grabbed her, one hand on her waist, the other on her ass, and she felt him thrust up through her orgasm, plunging deep into her cunt, but he couldn't make it a bit sweeter than it was already, and she tossed her long raven-dark hair about as she erupted atop him.

"Baby, baby, baby," he purred, "let me finish in your mouth, hmmm?"

Pam was vaguely aware of his words, and she was vaguely aware that he was helping her to disengage herself, and then she was lying reversed atop him and Kerry was pulling her pussy toward his face. She moaned as she realized what he had in mind, and she fucked his mouth with her hot, dripping pussy, screaming "YESSSS!" when his tongue shot up her. Before her blinking eyes swayed the red, swollen lance of his hard-on, and she grabbed it with both hands, opening her mouth into a lip-stretching O of passion that encompassed and swallowed him without a moment's hesitation. He plunged deeply into her mouth, almost the full length of his eight-inch tool entering her, and she began to suck him vengefully, her teeth and lips and cheeks and tongue, all working in harmony Kerry's dick.

He repaid her in kind, delightfully. His hands were on her ass and legs, stroking and tickling from her responses that made her head swim in abandon, and she sucked all the harder to demonstrate her gratitude. His tongue jabbed up her pussy so many times she couldn't keep count, and each stab was met by a snapping contraction of her vaginal muscles that threatened to jerk the tongue right out of his mouth and draw it inside her for eternity.

As he licked, as he fondled, his fingers brushed now and then over her anus, and she felt a mingled pain and pleasure. Pam couldn't forget how she'd climaxed this afternoon with Ms. Hagen's fingers digging into her pussy and asshole simultaneously, and she almost wished Kerry would jab his finger up her ass right now, make her squeal, make her scream, make her moan, but above all, make her come like a gushing fountain.

Oh, God, she was already doing just that! Her cunt humped down on his face, his nose burrowed into her black-furred delta, and his tongue lustfully explored the wet mysteries of her dreamy snatch. She fed his prick into her mouth and she sucked, but he still wasn't there and she was already, had been for so long it felt as if she'd been doing nothing but coming for most of her life. Pam wrapped her fists around Kerry's dick and she lifted her head, nursing on his knob as she shucked up and down in quick, frantic strokes. It wasn't much of a blowjob – she realized that, realized she was doing little more than jerking him off into her mouth – but he didn't seem to care and she couldn't wait another second for the flood of hot thick jism she knew he was about to bless her with, and so she worked on, lips tight around the knob of his pecker, hands flying up and down the shaft.

"Mmmmmm!" he groaned into her twat, the vibrations whipping Pam into yet another explosion of orgasm, and then his own began. His cock engorged fantastically in her mouth, and suddenly she was drinking semen, scooping it with her tongue, pouring it down her throat while his cock shot out more and more and more of the viscous, sweet-tangy liquid to keep her full, full, God, so full! Pam moaned around his dong and she drank his love gift with a frantic, all-consuming need.

Yes! She thought. Yes yes yes!! Nothing had changed. They were still perfect together. And she didn't need anyone else. Her Kerry could supply all the adventure, all the fun, all the splendid sexual delight Pam Wilson craved. Oh, God, could he ever! She was strangling on the thick lashings of cum he squirted into her mouth, but if she'd died, there would have been a smile on her lovely face. As of this moment Patricia Wright was dead. Dead! She wanted nothing more, for the rest of her life, than to be a loved and loving wife to her man.

They finally ate their fish and chips – the vegetables were a disaster, overcooked, burned, stuck to the bottom of the pan – but Pam's tastebuds were so suffused by the cum she'd drunk that her food all reminded her, deliciously, of hot gushing semen, and there wasn't a Goddamned thing wrong with that.

After dinner Kerry went to shower and get dressed and, as soon as she heard him start to sing in the shower, Pam dialed the Logan Answering Service. "Hello," she said, "this is Patricia Wright, and I'm calling to tell you that I won't be accepting any more messages. Yes, I know I'm paid up for two more weeks, but that doesn't matter. Well, if anyone calls for me, tell them I've moved to Pittsburgh and left no forwarding address or phone number. Yes. Thank you very much." Sighing, she hung up the phone. It was as if a great burden had been lifted from her breast. She went into the bedroom and laid out the outfit she'd brought this afternoon with her last whore's earnings.

"Do you like it?" she asked Kerry, modeling the outfit for him. He nodded, eyes gleaming. "You don't think it's too – sexy?"

"Hell, yes, it's too sexy! All I can do to keep from jumping your body right now! But I love it. Oh, baby, that's you!"

Of course it was. She'd known it was perfect the moment she saw it in a store window after leaving Ms. Hagen's hotel. And she'd known Kerry would like it, too. It was a lovely ensemble, composed of a silk slip-dress, long-skirted, low-necked, with little straps, the bodice tucked in right beneath her tits, to emphasize their heavy fullness. With it went a satiny bed jacket which gave the outfit a kind of boudoir ambience that Pam found irresistible.

"You don't think it's too daring? For a party at your boss's house, I mean?" Pam smoothed the silk across her tits. Because of the low cut it was impossible to wear a bra underneath and her nipples punched into the silk as hands slid across them. Pam took a deep breath, making her boobs lift, and she aimed them at Kerry, knowing how much he loved her tits.

He put down his shirt and came toward her. His own nipples were sticking out too, amid the hair that forested his broad chest, and she put her hands on them, loving the little stiff bumps beneath her palms. "I mean," she added, "do you want me to go around showing most of what I've got? In view of the company?"

"Fuck the company. And the Company, too. I want them all to know what a hot bitchin' wife I lucked onto. Jesus, Pam, I want to watch their eyes gleaming when they look at you, and I want to stand around grinning like a shit-eating dog because you belong to me. All of you. They can look, but nobody else can touch."

Nobody else could touch. Well, it was true now, even if it hadn't been true until maybe half an hour ago. Oh, forget it! That part of her life was totally ended. She had the future to consider now. And part of that future consisted of Kerry's upcoming promotion. He'd been coy and mum on the subject after coming home, even when she pressed him, but she suspected that the announcement would be made at the party tonight. "How about the big shots from New York?" she smirked, rubbing her tits and crotch against him. "What will they think of me?"

Kerry grinned. "Some of 'em might give you a second look. Some might not. Hey!" He slapped her ass playfully. "We'd better haul ass if we want to get there in time."

Pam squealed, just as playfully, and she wished they could merely strip off what clothes they'd already put on, pile into the bed, and fuck their brains out for the rest of the night. But if they had to go to the Goddamned party, then go they would.

The party was at the home of Mr. Murdock, the plant superintendent. It was a lovely house, in the most sedate section of the community, a stone-built Colonial with Grecian columns at the front. "We'll have a place like this someday," Kerry told Pam as they pulled up in front. He stroked hey leg, from knee to crotch, and again she wished they could skip this social engagement.

"Let's pay for our own house first," she suggested, sighing wistfully as he took away his hand and went around to open her door. Together, they entered the house.

There was a large, high-ceilinged ballroom on the ground floor, and in it the guests were congregated. Kerry took her around, introducing her to Mr. and Mrs. Murdock, other dignitaries from the plant, and to a couple of representatives from the New York offices. Pam had wondered if her outfit wasn't a little too disco-modern for this sort of party – after all, the other women were mostly wearing party pantsuits or sedate cocktail dresses – but without exception the men's eyes brightened at the sight of her, and each man who shook her hand seemed very reluctant to let it go.

"Was that the big shot?" Pam whispered as they moved past one of the New York people. "The one who's going to give you the upward mobility?"

Kerry shook his head. "No, these are just small fish. Actually, you'd be surprised to see who was in charge of the delegation the main office sent down. Rig business is supposed to be a man's game, you always seem to think, but – oh, come on!"

A tall, russet-haired woman stood at the far side of the room, drink in one hand, cigarette in the other. She had her back to Kerry and Pam, but there was something about the way she stood that rang a tantalizing chord of memory in Pam.

"Dianne," Kerry said, and the woman turned, smiling. Pam felt the blood rushing out of her head, going to God knew where. She was dizzy, or so she felt, and one of her feet dragged as Kerry led her on. She didn't want to take another step. She wanted to turn around, to run out the door, to go home, and hide under her bed for the rest of her life.

"Dianne," Kerry repeated as they stopped in front of the woman, "I'd like you to meet my wife Pamela. Pam, honey, this is Dianne. She is our fairy godmother, you might say."

"Hello, Pam," said Ms. Hagen, offering her hand. "It's nice to meet you."