Synopsis: Jim has been forced to push Bette into prostitution. She goes reluctantly, but quickly discovers there's real money in sex. She's just made her first really big score, and has brought another prostitute home with her -- who turns out to be Louise!


Working Girls

I whirled. It was Louise! I saw at once that she had changed. She was heavier, had another line or two in her face, and she sported one hell of a black eye. But the real change was in her eyes and the shape of her mouth.

Choking on a sudden rush of emotion, I leaped up and seized her in a firm, loving embrace. In turn, she wrapped her arms tightly around me. We stood, locked in a silent welcome, seemingly for several minutes. Then I released her and stepped back.

"My God," she said shakily, her face working and eyes wet and bright with unshed tears, "and to think I wasn't sure you'd let me in the house or maybe even want to talk to me!"

I felt tears burning behind my eyes, too. I looked at Bette. Her eyes were also brimming. "What a bunch of sentimental fools we are," I said hoarsely, folding Louise into my arms again, this time motioning Bette to join us.

The three of us held each other, hugging and rocking, each of us experiencing floods of silent personal memories and charged emotions.

The initial shock faded. The women sat on the couch, and I slumped in my chair after pulling it close to the couch so the three of us were knee to knee.

I extended my left hand to Louise and my right hand to Bette. I was relieved when Bette, somewhat hesitantly, offered her hand to Louise. We were linked. The women I loved and I were reunited.

When I felt I could trust my voice, I said to Louise, "First, I want you to tell me who smacked you. I'm going to kill him."

She looked at me and smiled sadly. "You haven't changed at all, have you, Jim? You still think you can solve everyone's problems for them."

"I've changed all right," I said. "And I'm afraid not altogether for the better." I wanted to tell Louise about Steve and Carol and the studio -- and, of course, I had a lot of questions to ask her, but I realized that during these first precious moments I had to be very careful. Things said could have a lasting impact on our future.

"How've you been?" I asked as casually as possible.

"Well, not good," Louise answered. "For one thing, as Bette told you, I'm turning tricks for a living these days, doing what I do best, I suppose," she added with a sad little smile.

"So I understand," I said, dryly.

"Don't get me wrong," Louise added quickly. "I don't mind the work so much; it's kind of fun. But I don't appreciate the looks I get in hotel lobbies. That bothers me. If you haven't already guessed, I'm edgy right now wondering what you two might be thinking of me."

"I don't know what Bette's told you, but believe me, dear, I'm in no position to be making judgments about anyone else."

"Bette said that you had loosened up a lot." She turned to Bette. "Isn't that how you put it, dear?"

Talk about an understatement! Still, I wasn't ready to let my full weight down.

"What's this `Marta' business?" I asked.

Louise sighed, and looked from me to Bette. "I don't know about you, Bette; maybe you haven't been tricking long enough. But most hookers I know try to keep something about themselves secret. Some lie about their home towns; others hide their families and kids.

"I kept `Louise' away from the pimps and the players and the johns. My name is mine, and I'm not going to share it with anyone except those I love, and those who love me. `Marta' is the party girl. Louise may be a swinger, but she's no whore. Marta is the whore."

That worried me. I'm no psychologist, but I'd had enough flaky clients to realize that Louise's rationalization seemed dangerously similar to a multiple personality disorder. I hoped I was mistaken. It was time to change the subject.

"Look, kids. It's been a long day. I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. Suppose we put some steaks on and pop some potatoes in the micro. And maybe toss a salad?"

Louise and Bette went into the kitchen to prepare our meal. Then I went into the kitchen to fix a drink. But I didn't get very far. Bette and Louise were standing in the middle of the room, locked together, sobbing and crying, patting and comforting each other.

This was no place for me. I quickly poured a drink and returned to the living room. A few minutes later, I went back into the kitchen for another drink.

Louise was now leaning against the sink, sipping a highball. Bette had slipped into one of my shirts, and was seated at the table drinking a glass of rosé. The girls were still red-eyed, but it seemed as if the storm was over for the moment. The brittleness I had felt earlier was gone; Louise seemed more relaxed.

"Do you still like your steak rare?" Louise asked me.

I smiled and nodded. Bette was squeamish about red meat and always wanted the pink cooked out of it. I mixed my drink, and went back to the living room. I thought they might still want some privacy.

Louise had been gone for nearly six months by that time, but I assumed, nevertheless, that she intended to reclaim her position as wife and head of the household. Thus, I was surprised and mildly shocked when, as we were relaxing in the living room after dinner, she said, "Jim, would you mind if I camped in the back bedroom for a week or so until this shiner disappears? It's awfully hard for a hooker with a black eye to get work. And I don't want to go back to Carl. I'm finished with that asshole!"

I didn't know what to say. I opened my mouth, but luckily, Bette guessed what I was about to say, and gave me a quick, preemptory, shake of her head.

So instead of protesting, I merely said, "Mi casa est su casa." Louise smiled, remembering our futile attempt to learn a few Spanish phrases before taking a vacation in Puerto Rico years earlier.

"You still don't have it right," she said, "but I get the general idea. Thank you, Jim -- and you, too, Bette, especially for taking me under your wing last night."

We watched a little television and then we went to bed. Bette curled up way over on her side of the bed. I rolled over next to her, and whispered, "You could have warned me, you little rat," digging my fingers into the ticklish spot on her ribs.

"Hush," she said, "and get over on your own side. We have company in the other room."

"Christ, is it possible that she's never heard anyone fuck before?"

"Oh, you're impossible," Bette said. "Come here, you big lummox, I love you."

I luxuriated in her verdant body. She began reciting the things she had done with those college men in a coarse whisper, while running her tantalizing fingers up and down my spine. I contented myself with sucking on one of her remarkable nipples. Then I kissed her stomach and pushed my face between her thighs.

"I want to see if they broke anything," I said, as I pulled gently on her labia with my lips.

"It all seems to be here," I said.

Although her thighs were clamped tightly against my ears, I still heard her giggle. "Let's see how it tastes," I said. "Is that chocolate I taste? Was one of those dudes a black guy?"

"Three of them were black," she said.

"That's what it is, then," I said. "Let's see if they stretched it all out of shape."

I crawled up between her legs and, as usual, she guided the head of my tool into her secret nest. I pushed, but the portals remained closed. I pushed a little harder.

"Ouch," she said, "that hurts. It looks like I'm out of action for a while." She put her hand on me. "Mama has some little tricks she can play. How does my little fellow like this?"

My little fellow disappeared into Bette's mouth. Powerful, suctioning forces were at work, and so was her hand, frantically pumping up and down. I felt a familiar pressure begin to build in my loins, demanding to be released. The pressure had started building when she had met me at the door, wearing nothing but her garter belt and stockings. It had continued to build while she had described her maiden voyage into the world of college boys and sin.

I forgot about Louise for the moment, and tried to picture Bette, crazy in heat, surrounded by massive young erections. I pictured the boys doing a circle jerk on her squirming body.

My seed boiled up my urethra and before she could jerk her head away, it filled her mouth.

She tried to swallow, but she gagged. She jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom. I could hear her retching into the toilet. Then I heard her rinse her mouth, and felt her crawl back into bed.

"You know what we're going to have to do?" she asked seriously.

I confessed I didn't.

"Well, if I'm going to get this sore every time I have a gang bang, and I can't suck you off without heaving, then we're going to have to break in my back door."

I love a woman who thinks like that.

The next few days passed swiftly. As her bruises faded, Louise gradually began telling us more about her life with Phil. Then, after dinner on her third evening with us, she told us about her brief movie career.

Louise hadn't known about Phil and Steve's college friendship until Bette told her the previous day. Instead, Phil, that lying bastard, had told her that he had gotten in touch with the studio through a newspaper ad.

"Frankly," she said, "I wasn't at all keen on becoming a porno star -- imagine what our friends would say if they knew -- but what choice did I have? Sure, I know. I could have left him, but I couldn't. Not then. I was still too infatuated with his cock."

She shuddered and scrunched her eyes shut while she gritted her teeth. "You can be sure that's where my affection began and ended. So we went out to the studio, and moved into one of the rooms in the new wing. Phil had quit his job (or had been fired, I was never sure which) and we spent a solid month out there making that flick.

"I might as well tell you the rest of it," she added, more to herself than to us. "Bette knows that Phil can be a real pain in the ass in more ways than one. We had moved back into town by then. One day, he came home early and caught me screwing the meter man."

She paused, then added thoughtfully, "I mean, shit. The man meant nothing to me. I can't even remember his name, if I ever knew it."

I couldn't resist it. "Just another boy-toy, right?"

She didn't find my comment humorous. "Exactly," she said. "But Phil went crazy. I should have expected it, because earlier, when we were making the movie and the script called for me to fuck a couple of other guys, one of them just a kid, Phil threw a real hissy! In fact, Carol almost had to rewrite the script, but Steve got him under control. So I already knew what a mean, jealous, son-of-a-bitch he really was."

Bette rolled her eyes up. "Amen," she said.

"So the next thing I knew," Louise added, "I'm out on the street sitting on a suitcase full of my clothes."

"I was some kind of mad, as you can imagine. I had a couple of hundred bucks of movie money left, so I got a cab and went downtown. I checked into a cheap hotel, met Carl in the hotel bar, and here I am, right back where I started."

"But why didn't you call me?" I asked.

Her eyes were dry and a little hard as she stared at me. "You really don't know me very well, do you, Jim." It was a statement, not a question.

"I know it was foolish, but let's be honest. What would you or our friends like the Morrisons have thought if I had to admit I had gone flat on my ass?"

"Yes, but at least . . ."

Louise didn't let me finish. ". . .at least I wouldn't be peddling my ass for eating money. Is that what you were going to say?"

She let it all out; the bitterness and hurt, anger and, I suspect, sorrow. "Believe me, Jim, there are worse things than getting paid to fuck. Isn't that right, Bette?"

Bette nodded in vigorous agreement. "At least, whores get to chose who they fuck. Wives and girl friends don't."

It was a hell of a story. But the biggest surprise was that I couldn't find it in me to care very much. Search as I might, frankly, I was unable to detect any real feeling for her other than pity. In view of my booze soaked ruminations the night before, especially after the shock of our emotionally burdened meeting wore off, I found myself wondering if the emotion I thought I had felt was genuine or if I was romantically in love with a Louise who had never existed except in my imagination?

We sat quietly, each thinking about Louise's experiences and how her unexpected return might impact our lives. Then I got up and fixed all hands a night cap. Bette and I went to bed.

Bette's equipment had recovered. She sat cross legged on the bed, wearing a silly, frilly night gown, grinning at me while I carefully draped my pants over a chair to prevent them from wrinkling.

"Want to see my sword swallowing act?" Bette asked.

"Sure," I said.

She reached into the bedside stand drawer and took out the biggest, ugliest, plastic dildo I had ever seen. Making an oval of her lips, she delicately took that monstrous thing in her mouth, working it back and forth to get it wet, then she abruptly rolled on her back, raised her knees, and spread her legs wide apart.

I had an unobstructed view as she pushed the wet dildo into her womanhood, jiggling it back and forth. The thing penetrated deeper on each down stroke, until it was completely buried in her body.

"Not bad, huh?" she asked. "I was dry, too. Well, almost dry -- but I had it all in me in 30 seconds. Louise showed me how to do that this afternoon. She said there was no reason, even in a college gang bang, for me to get as sore as I did. You want to take my friend's place?" She pulled it out.

I don't know what's so special about watching a woman shove a piece of plastic into her body, but I found it exciting, nevertheless. I lowered my shorts, and pulled my under shirt over my head.

She pulled her nightie over her head and began rubbing her breasts against my chest. "Does that feel good?" She was suddenly serious. "Hold me, Jim," she said. "Hold me tight." I took her in my arms, enjoying, as usual, the feel of her firm, unfettered breasts against my bare chest.

She shivered as she rolled us over, so she was on top. She lifted her head and stared into my eyes. "Are we doing the right thing, Jim? Am I?"

"What's the matter? Are Louise's experiences bothering you?" I asked.

"I think so," she replied. "That and a few other things."

"What's that, dear?"

"Well, you know. The way people treat working girls. I don't want to be treated that way. I'm afraid you might start acting that way."

"I take it you've been talking to Louise."

"Well, yes."

"Look, sweetheart," I said, "it was wrong of me to get us into this fix in the first place. And it was wonderful of you to try to help out. That's water under the bridge." I paused for a moment, trying to think of a way to reassure her. Then I remembered something.

"Wait here, honey. I have something for you." I got out of bed and went to the closet where my suit jacket was hanging. I reached into the inner breast pocket and retrieved an envelope.

"Here," I said, handing it to her, "this is yours."

She opened the envelope and read the note in it aloud:

To whom it may concern:

Please be advised that on the June 7, 1995, I, James Bromfield did urge and solicit Bette Cox to commit acts of prostitution with sundry unidenti fied persons.

(signed) James Bromfield Given under my hand and seal this 18th day of June, 1995.

(signed) Notary Public

Bette looked at me. Tears were in her eyes. "Thank you, my darling, thank you," she whispered, wrapping her arms around me and smothering my face under a thousand love kisses.

"You did it. You put it in writing. I feel so much better," she said. "I didn't think you had the nerve. This proves that we're in this together! Oh, thank you, darling, for proving me wrong!"

Taking my silence for assent, she continued, "I want to make you as happy as you've made me." Then she fastened her opened moist mouth on mine. Her tongue began its wicked little sliding motion against my lips. We were so engrossed in each other that we failed to hear Louise enter the room.

"Is this a private party, or can anyone play?"

Bette raised her head. She was still holding the note. She held it out to Louise. "See what Jim gave me!"

Louise held the paper to the light, squinting as she read it. Then she turned to me, and with a half smile, said, "It looks like I underestimated you again, Jim. Congratulations."

While I was tucking that comment in the back of my mind, Louise slipped her robe off and slithered into the bed she knew so well. I was mesmerized once again by the sight of her magnificent pear-shaped breasts.

They were even more beautiful than I remembered.

"Don't I get a kiss too?" Louise asked.

Bette wrapped her arms around Louise, welcoming her into our bed. I embraced the two of them, and we laid quietly for a few minutes, savoring the merging of our physical and emotional selves. Then Louise nudged my erection with her hip. "Ummm. That feels like an old friend. Can I kiss it hello?"

Not waiting for a reply, she slid down until her face was against my crotch. She kissed my thighs, then took me in her hand, and slipped it into her mouth.

Then, I knew Louise was home. Her familiar, practiced lips and tongue began their age-old ritual. Bette raised up on her elbow and watched Louise for a minute. Then she leaned over me and began to nibble on one of my nipples. I felt her hand caressing Louise's face and lips, and my rigid cock as it slid in and out of Louise's warm, wet mouth.

"Don't finish him," she said to Louise. "I've got an important fuck coming, and I need it now."

Even though I was awash in the sea of emotion and sensation that was sloshing over me, I heard the plea in Bette's voice. By a gargantuan effort of will, I reclaimed myself from Louise's grasping mouth, and sliding between Bette's spread thighs, I thrust myself deep between her legs.

Louise pressed her lips to Bette's while she ran her hand over Bette's breast, taking her nipple between thumb and forefinger, and teasing it into a tiny erection. Bette closed her eyes, concentrating on the sensations building in her body.

Then Louise stretched her upper body over Bette's and rubbed her nipple against Bette's.

Bette stiffened, and I felt the tremors begin. Suddenly her thighs were quivering as her stomach muscles began their familiar undulation.

"Put your fingers in me," Louise ordered. I'm not sure which of us she had in mind, but I reached under Louise and parted her nether lips with my fingers. She began to hunch frantically against my hand while Bette screamed, "Oh God, I'm commmingggg!"

I stopped moving in Bette, wondering if I could stave off the eruption that was numbing my balls. I reviewed baseball scores, tried to think of any interesting television I had seen lately; anything other than what was happening at the moment.

Meanwhile, both women were spasming. I rode out the storm in Bette, and when her waves began to subside, I pulled out of her and rolled Louise over on her back. Louise realized what I wanted to do, and she quickly spread her legs and tilted her pelvis up to receive my initial thrust.

I slammed into her as hard as I could. It felt as if I were buried in hot molasses. That one thrust triggered another orgastic tidal wave in Louise. Bette was still convulsing, too. She stuffed Louise's fingers into her vagina, and rocketed through still another climax. I was beginning to wonder if there would be an end to this, but Louise found a way. Her educated tunnel began milking my manhood, and almost instantly, I felt the sweet agony of my male seed gushing up my tubes, and spurting into her womb.
When she had felt my member begin its telltale throbbing, a third climax, not so intense, gripped her.

Slowly, the fire storm subsided. We lay in a great disorderly tangle of sweaty arms, legs, breasts and bodies. Something wonderful had just happened. None of us wanted to break the spell. We must have lain there fifteen minutes, I was still buried to the hilt in Louise, sharing the intimate afterglow of good sex.

Finally Louise stirred. "Someone's on my leg," she said. "I think the blood supply is cut off." It was me. I pulled back, and my soft member plopped out of her, and made a slimy trail across her leg as I moved.

"Yuuk," she said. "Wipe that thing off before you go flinging it around." I bent over and kissed her. "If you were as good as you think you are, it would have come out of you slick and clean," I said.

Bette jumped up and went to the bathroom. When she came back, it was Louise's turn. She cupped her delta with her hand to prevent our mixed juices from dripping on the rug as she ran into the bath.

Bette curled up in my arms. "A girl needs to feel loved and wanted after she's been tricking all night," she said. "You might as well get used to taking care of your stable of ladies," she murmured sleepily. She closed her eyes and went to sleep.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling. Is that what I have become? I wondered. A whore master?

Louise came out of the bathroom. "Would you mind if I slept here?" she asked.

I held out my other arm. She turned off the light and snuggled in next to me, laying her head on my arm. In moments, she was also asleep, while I continued staring into the dark.

Steve called me at the office the next day, Monday, and asked if I could make a meeting on Friday afternoon. "If you can, come up early and have lunch. Then you can watch a scene for the next movie being filmed, OK?"

I looked at my desk calendar. It was clear for Friday.

"OK," I said, "unless something comes up, I'll be there." I marked `Studio' across the page.

That evening, Louise and Bette collaborated on dinner. While I would never say this to Bette, Louise was the better cook. I immediately recognized her meatloaf.

After dinner, Louise joined me in the living room while Bette piled dishes in the washer. "Am I in the way, here, Jim?" she asked, her eyes and lovely face solemn.

"I don't think so," I said. "Have you asked Bette?"

"I'm asking you."

"Well, I just told you. Why?"

She wrinkled her nose in that little girl fashion I had found so appealing. "Bette asked me to stay," she said.

That didn't surprise me. I had almost expected her to. "If you do stay," I said, "you must understand that things between us are different now."

She sighed, "I know Jim. And I'm sorry. But I've got to be honest with you. As much as I regret that and the hurt I caused you, if I had it to do over again, I would. That's how powerfully moved I was."

I nodded, silently reliving those painful moments when Louise had left. "What do you plan to do?" I asked.

"If I stay, I'll pull my share of the load around here. Housekeeping, cooking, all that sort of thing."

"Yes, but are you planning to get a job?"

"I've got a job."

"You mean you intend to continue tricking?"

"Sure. Why not? I know the ropes and it's something I'm good at. Most the time, I don't even mind it, and some of the time I have a real ball. Plus, I still get a kick out of being paid for it."

She looked at me thoughtfully, and smiled a bit wryly. "As long as it's true confession time, I might as well tell you that you scored big on me with that note."

"I don't understand."

"I don't know whether I should tell you this, but Bette probably will, and I know it will sound better coming from me." She paused to take a deep breath. "We had talked about setting up an apartment; maybe even getting a third girl in with us. I almost had her talked into it, when good old honest Jim comes blundering in with that note." She smiled a bit ruefully. "I couldn't get her out of here now with a stick of dynamite! Which means that we now have to work around that problem."

I was mildly shocked to learn that Louise had gone behind my back, but I had to appreciate the fact that she was honest enough to tell me about it. Overshadowing everything else, however, was the unpleasant news that the two women intended to continue tricking. "Hey, wait a minute! You can't use this apartment, if that's what you have in mind!" I said firmly. "That's completely out of the question."

"It's my apartment, too," Louise reminded me.

"I don't care. I can't stop you from turning tricks, if that's what you want to do, but I can insist that you take your trade somewhere else."

"Look," Louise said patiently, "You wouldn't even have to know about it. Besides, it's a hell of a lot safer tricking here than it would be in some stranger's hotel room. Some of these men are dangerous."

I knew she was right, but God damn! You have to draw the line some place. Besides, I knew it was almost inevitable that sooner or later, one or both of them would be busted. When that happened, my license to practice law could very well be out the window, and I might be lucky to avoid a jail sentence for keeping a disorderly house.

In other words, this was one case where I clearly had everything to lose and nothing to gain. Any sensible person in my shoes would have put his foot down, and I know that's what I should have done.

But I was not a sensible person. I was drunk with the continuous sexual stimulation provided by the two women, and blinded by the endless titillation their activities provided. Also, I cared deeply for -- perhaps even loved -- both women and I would not, could not, expose them to the many inherent dangers and risks that threaten working women on the streets.

"I think you should rent an apartment somewhere, like you intended to do in the first place," I said.

Louise shook her head. "Two young women are always suspect," she said. "The landlord would watch us like a hawk, and sooner or later, either we'd be out or he'd be in business with us. So would the beat cop, the taxi drivers who steer trade to us, and probably even the newsboy on the corner. First thing you know, we'd have a payroll like General Motors. We'd be flat on our backs working for everybody else." She paused for breath, while I marveled at her tenacity.

"I can't believe you!" I said. "You're unreal!" I insisted that Louise and Bette practice their trade elsewhere, but even as I argued with her, I was privately rationalizing that even though society defines prostitution as a crime, the trade was relatively benign as long as it was sheltered from peripheral criminal activities and conducted as carefully as Su Lin had conducted it with me.

In other words, to my mind, sex workers merely provided a service; a service that many men (and not a few women) found necessary, and for which they were willing to pay.

Not realizing she had an important silent ally in the back of my mind, Louise sighed and patiently tried again. "OK," she said, "here's another scenario. The housewife hooker. There's lots of them out there, making the car payment or buying a new refrigerator with their pussies. You'd be surprised."

I shook my head. "Nothing surprises me," I said, "But how would you work that?" Before the words were out of my mouth, I cursed myself for giving her the opening.

Louise grinned her `gotcha' grin, and continued, "Same deal, only you're the husband, very jealous, and you don't know anything about it."

"God dammit!" I said, trying to regain lost ground, "that's as bad as straight tricking! How many times do I have to tell you: you're not to use this apartment!"

Louise sighed and looked at Bette. "Do you want to tell him, or shall I?"

"Tell me what?" I asked with a sinking feeling that I didn't really want to know the answer.

"Bette and I each turned two tricks here this after noon," Louise said calmly. "No big deal, $50 a pop, except one guy tipped me a $20."

"WHAT?!!!" I had to sit down. My life was spinning out of control! "What did you do? Put a sign in the window? Walk naked in the street? Pass out handbills?"

"Don't be silly," Bette said. "Louise just put a little ad in the personals column of the paper."

"Where? Show me," I said, suddenly panicked that the police were only minutes away from the door as we spoke.

Louise silently handed me the paper. A three-line ad in the middle of the column was circled.

Bored friendly housewives

seek afternoon fun. Call

555-2934 daytime only

"Oh my God," I said. "That's our telephone number! Couldn't you at least have gotten a new number?" With those fateful words, I fell right into Louise's little trap.

Louise smiled triumphantly. "Why?" she calmly asked. "Who is going to recognize that number? And if they do, why are they reading the personals column?

"If they're looking for pussy, as far as I'm concerned, they need look no further. I don't mind fucking your friends. I used to fuck them for free, all the time. Besides, I don't have any friends anymore. The only friends working girls have are other working girls. And their man, of course." She smiled sweetly at me.

Two things about Louise hadn't changed at all. One was her stubbornness, the other, her ability to put me in a corner. She made it look so easy.

"You see," Louise explained, "all we needed was a little push to get started. That ad will get things started. Those guys will be back. And they'll tell their friends, and the first thing you know, we'll be on easy street." She leered at me. Then, seeing the expression on my face, her tone abruptly changed.

"Oh, come on," she said, sharply, "for Christ's sake, Jim, lighten up. The sky isn't falling. And if you're worrying about dirty sheets, we've already changed the beds."

"I'm worrying about a hell of a lot more than dirty sheets," I said bitterly. "I'm worrying about my license. I'm worrying about staying out of jail."

"Don't be silly," she retorted.

Bette said, "We haven't told you the best news of all."

There was more? I sat down. "What's that?" I asked.

"Sandy came over today."

"Not while you girls were entertaining, I hope."

"You got it," Louise said dryly.

"Oh, my God! What happened?" I asked.

"Well, Bette was in the back bedroom with her john," she said, "and I had my lad in the other bedroom, when the doorbell rang.

"I wouldn't have answered it, except I thought it was another john, so I threw on a robe and went to the door. It was Sandy. She had stopped to have a cup of coffee with Bette. Needless to say, she was floored when she saw me! I didn't know what to do.

"If I hadn't had a naked john waiting for me in the bedroom, naturally I would have invited her in. But while I was stalling, trying to think of some way to get rid of her, my john came out of the room, bareassed naked with his cock in his hand. I almost laughed at her expression when she realized it wasn't you."

"Very funny," I said.

"Well, it was. I asked Sandy to wait in the living room; that I wouldn't be long. She got a funny look on her face and asked if she could watch. I asked my customer, and he thought it was a great idea."

"So the three of you went into the bedroom?"

"That's right. I jumped on the bed with my john. while Sandy sat on the arm chair in the corner. I was busy with him, of course, but I sneaked peeks at her from time to time to see how she was taking this.

"She's pretty cool. She sat there like she was in church for the first five minutes or so. Then, as my lad was going down on me, she began rubbing her thighs together. The skirt on her little sundress kept working its way up, and soon I saw her panties. After my john climbed into the saddle, and I had him working, I turned so I could watch Sandy. She saw me looking at her. By that time, her skirt was bunched in her lap, and she had pulled her panty leg open so she could slip her fingers into her cunt. I was getting hotter from watching her that from the poking my john was giving me!

"As soon as her right hand was working in her box, she reached inside the top of her dress and began playing with her tits. As I said, I was really turning on from watching this. Of course, my fool of a john thought it was his wonderful cock -- actually, it wasn't bad -- and he really began going to town! Poor Sandy had her dress off her shoulders by this time and was naked to the waist. My boy poured about a gallon of his jism into me. Sandy ran into the front room before he saw her, and she stayed in the kitchen until he left.

"She didn't know Bette was tricking in the back bedroom. As soon as the door closed, she threw her arms around me and gave me a terrific welcome home kiss. Then she practically dragged me into the bedroom, and after pulling her dress over her head, pushed me back, crawled between my legs and began sucking that john's come out of me.

"That girl licked my pussy so clean, it was practically squeaky when the doorbell rang again. In the meanwhile, Bette's had finished her trick, so she answered the door, and took the new john into the back bedroom to show him was a friendly housewife does for fun on a slow Tuesday afternoon."

"God," Bette said, "if I had known Sandy was in there polishing Louise's cunt, I'd have told the new trick to go fuck himself. I would have been in there with them!"

I had begun to breathe normally again. "How did you explain all this to her?"

Louise looked at me pityingly. "You men are such children about some things. There was no point in trying to hide things. We told her the score. It took an hour, but I finally got around to telling her how Bette and I had met, how my pimp had beat me up and how Bette had dragged me home to heal. I also made it clear you didn't have any idea what was going on, which was the simple truth."

"How'd she take it? What did she say?"

Louise grinned. I knew that self-congratulatory grin well. "It was short and sweet: She asked if she could join us? But then she added that she only wanted to suck cocks. She went on to telling me how you had turned her on to swallowing a man's cum; how much she preferred that to actual fucking. 'Besides,' she said, 'I wouldn't feel so much like I was cheating on Jeff if I only sucked them off.' I told her that she was made for the business and that the johns would love her."

"Sandy is now a full fledged partner," Bette added. "You didn't turn her out; we did."

"You mean . . ."

"Exactly," Bette said. "She spent the rest of the afternoon here. She wants to specialize in topless blow jobs. The two tricks she turned -- one of them a guy who had already fucked Louise -- said she gave the best head he had ever had."

I was terribly conflicted which resulted from the combined shock and excitement I felt. My sedate apartment has been turned into a whorehouse. My mind literally whirled from a maelstrom of ideas. My first impulse was to run away and hide -- yet I also wanted to plunge my manhood into the very center of this rich cornucopia of willing - nay, eager - female flesh that surrounded me. I was especially enchanted by the vision of a slender topless ash blonde fellatrice on her knees with my cock in her hot, wet mouth.

Forgetting our earlier argument about using the apartment for this purpose at all, I asked, "How much are you charging her?"

"Fifty percent," Louise said. Any other place would charge her sixty percent or more." Practical Louise added, "This is a business, Jim. Sandy had to understand that even though we're all friends, there are certain business expenses . . ."

"She went for it? Just like that?"

Louise laughed. "Of course. Nobody twisted her arm. Of course, she's not as free as we are. She has to get a baby sitter, and if that gets too expensive we may have to increase her share. But after watching that girl work, I honestly believe she would pay us to let her suck cocks."

We went to bed together again that night, but oddly, none of us was particularly randy. I laid on my back. Bette was curled within my right arm, and Louise's head rested on my left arm. It was becoming easier to forget that she had ever been away. However, I soon turned on my right side and cuddled Bette. Louise had also turned so her magnificent breasts were resting warmly against my back.

At breakfast, Louise looked at me. "I feel like going downtown tonight. How about it, Jim? Want to drive your stable to work tonight?"

"I have a court date in the morning."

"That's OK," Louise said. "We can get a cab home when we're ready."

I didn't argue. Actually, truth be told, I was looking forward to seeing them in action.

The girls were bathed, powdered and perfumed when I got home that evening. They both had plastic curlers in their hair, were wearing sexless bathrobes and were shuffling around in heelless slippers. After supper, I loaded the dishes in the washer, then went into the bedroom to watch the girls getting ready for their night's work.

This show was too good to miss. I walked across the carpet and sat quietly on the corner of the bed. Bette was sitting on the boudoir stool in front of the dressing table, applying her makeup. Louise was standing behind her arranging Bette's hair. Louise was still wearing her scruffy bathrobe, but Bette was nude except for her lacy black garter belt, dark patterned stockings, and panties. The sight of her naked little body never failed to arouse me, and almost automatically, I felt a familiar distant ache begin in my loins as I admired the exquisite curve of her taut breasts, and the sweet line from the small of her back over the symmetry of her buttocks, down the backs of her long thighs.

The women soon traded places. Louise tossed her robe on the bed, gave me a wink, and sat on the stool Bette had just left. Again, I was struck by their physical differences. Her breasts were much heavier than Bette's, almost pendulous, but they were saved from looking gross by their exquisite pear shape.

Bette's body was half in the shadow as she worked on Louise's hair. I watched Louise's breasts sway in the mirror as she moved her arms while applying her makeup. The two nearly naked women were beautiful to watch as they helped one another. A part of my mind longed for the skill of an artist -- or at least a photographer -- to record the beauty of the moment. Another, less noble, need was reflected in my tingling groin. To put the matter bluntly, watching those two women prepare for "work" was making me horny as hell.

There was no use appealing to them for relief. They weren't about to waste an hour's preparation for a five-minute quickie. I could just forget it.

Of course, I could always jack-off; most likely that's exactly what they would tell me to do. And, like most men I did exactly that from time to time, even though my generation was cruelly conditioned by parents, preachers and scout masters, who foolishly told us that if, in our steamy adolescence, we played with ourselves, we would unquestionably face terrible consequences. It wasn't just the preachers or scout masters who were guilty of this nonsense. Fifty years ago, the Navy was so horrified by the prospect of lusty young sailors and marines committing "self abuse," the Navy's euphemism for masturbation, that it was specifically prohibited and anyone caught in the act was subject to a sentence not exceeding 15 years at hard labor in the Naval penitentiary.

Notwithstanding this massive negative pressure, nature's was greater. Man and boy, we all jacked off, but we did it secretly, and in great fear of discovery. I would have gone into the bathroom to relieve the growing pressure in my loins, but since I was scheduled to take the girls downtown almost immediately, I was going to have to wait for the relief I craved.

Instead, I wandered back into the living room and tried to concentrate on a news magazine while I waited for the women to finish dressing. It was nearly nine before they emerged from the bedroom. Louise wore a low cut, loosely fitted red mini dress that was decorated with a wide sash. The hem of her dress ended just slightly above mid-thigh. Louise also wore her fake pearls.
Bette's dress was also very short. She had selected the tight white knit she had worn to our first party at Satin Studios. Again, the dress fit her so snugly that it might as well have been painted over her breasts. Her nipples practically stuck through the material. The only underwear line I could detect -- and I looked very closely -- came, I thought, from a garter belt and snaps on her hose. She also wore a necklace of dark beads.

All the way downtown, the girls maintained a lively chatter that betrayed their nervousness. Of course, they didn't know what real nervousness was. The most they faced was a possible fine. God alone knew what was in store for me! Yet the compulsion rooted between my legs was so great that I was still willing to risk everything to maintain the illicit thrills I was experiencing. I was learning that sex can as addicting as any street drug. I had become, in truth, a sex junkie.

I let the girls out at the entrance to the same hotel where we had found Su Lin, then drove around to find a parking place. Then I returned to the hotel and went into the bar to watch my girls at work, but I was too late. As I pushed open the swinging doors leading into the bar, I met a young couple coming out. I had never seen the guy before, but Bette was hanging onto his arm. She had her first trick of the evening. We passed without a flicker of recognition between us, and I went on into the bar and found a table where I could watch Louise operate without being obvious about it. I ordered a bourbon/water as I watched her sitting at the bar next to a man wearing a business suit. He appeared to be middle-aged.

I couldn't see their faces or hear their conversation, but I saw her lean against him a couple of times and touch his wrist. Soon, they picked up their drinks and moved to a table directly in front of me. If Louise saw me, like Bette, she ignored me. She crossed her legs and her skirt obediently slipped just above the tops of her stockings. A narrow strip of white skin appeared. She apparently apologized to her john, thereby calling attention to her thigh. She made a pretense of pulling it down, but when she had finished, mysteriously, it had crept higher.

Then she dropped her cigarette lighter. I'm sure her new friend would have been happy to pick it up for her, but I'm equally sure he was pleased when she decided to retrieve it herself, because when she bent over, the front of her dress gaped open, giving him a double barrelled view of her chest, probably all the way down to her navel.

The poor guy never had a chance. Within five minutes, Louise and her friend were heading for the door. Knowing the girls would now have cab fare, I decided to go home. Sadly, that empty apartment and vacant bathroom now seemed like my best and only hope. Just as I was summoning the waitress to for my bill, I heard a familiar cheery voice behind me say, "Hi sailor. Going to be in town long?" It was Su Lin.