A Second Chance

"He wrecked my business by telling all my clients that I was on the verge of being jailed for fiddling the tax man. Temp work is fickle and clients drop you at the first sniff of possible trouble, so the work dried up and the business collapsed. The house was in his name and, as he was divorcing me for adultery, I didn't get a look in. It was put in his name so it could be used as collateral against a business loan to buy the two giant cranes he had. I had never thought that it would ever matter when I signed my half away. I found out later that I hadn't needed to, but it was too late then."

"So what did you do?"

"I moved here and did what he told me to, I became a proper whore and made my living on my back." She looked at me again. "And I still do."

"Why?" I asked, puzzled. "Why don't you just take another job?"

"I tried, but Luke kept threatening anyone who might give me a reference, and the only jobs that didn't need references were monkey jobs. So I got into debt, you see I'd never had to budget before."

"Monkey jobs?" I asked, puzzled for a different reason this time.

"Yeah, monkey jobs. You know, pay peanuts and get monkeys?"

"Ahh!" I said as the penny dropped. I suddenly felt the weight of her head on my shoulder, and I put my arm around her. It was probably the first genuine affection that had ever passed between us in all the time I'd known her.

Quietly she told me of how she had drifted into prostitution to keep food in her belly and a roof over her head. She told me of vomiting after her first client, of the times when she was beaten up, and of some of the activities she had been forced to endure. And she told me in such a matter of fact way that I accepted what she told me without flinching, without looking down on her, and without even feeling the disgust that I expected to.

She also told me how expensive life as a whore could be, with even the rent for her apartment quadrupling in order to keep the landlord quiet, and how she had fought to prevent herself being 'adopted' by a pimp, who would feed her drugs and take her money in return for 'protection'. The lack of this so-called protection had cost her several severe beatings, but she had determined to stay independent.

Her new life had changed Sophie, but for the better. Gone was the selfish hedonism that triggered her affair with me and in its place was a philosophical acceptance of the retribution that had befallen her. When she spoke of Luke's actions in ruining her life she shrugged and said that after what she did to him she probably had it coming. She was a better human being for her experiences, one that I could relate to in more than a purely physical way.

For a long time we sat, silently thinking about the 'might have beens' and the 'what ifs', until I moved my head to look down at her at the same time as she looked up at me. Then it was inevitable that we should kiss. It was a long kiss, a very gentle and very emotional kiss in which seven years of waiting were poured out to each other in that simple meeting of mouths. I realised that she had meant more to me than I had ever let myself admit, and I'm pretty sure Sophie felt the same.

Then we were lying side by side on the bed, arms around each other, hugging and squeezing, kissing affectionately and murmuring silly nothings into each others ears. I have no real idea what either of us said, except it could all be conveyed as one sentence. 'Thank God I've found you again!' Sophie cried into my neck and I struggled to keep my voice from catching as I told her how much I needed her.

Then we began to undress each other, trying to struggle out of our clothes without losing that so important physical contact between us, and giggling stupidly in the attempt. Then, naked, we went back into our clinch, this time skin on skin, breast against chest, and legs tangled with legs.

Sophie's new life had changed her body as well as her outlook. She was never fat, just buxom, but now that extra padding had gone, leaving a slimmer but equally beautiful woman. Running my hands up and down her naked back I could feel hard muscle instead of the former softer flesh.

I explored her new body gently, stroking and caressing her, running my hands everywhere I could reach without getting out of kissing range, and Sophie moved to let me, sighing softly at the touch.

"Dermot, you could never know how good it feels to be touched like that by someone who cares instead of someone who's just paid for it."

I shushed her and carried on exploring. Then just above her hip my fingers encountered a little ridge of flesh, an unevenness that was out place on the smooth silkiness of her skin. She felt my fingers touching and investigating it, and explained.

"It's only a scar, Dermot."

"Feels a big one, how did you get that?"

"Just a punter wanting more than he'd paid for, and cutting up rough when I said no."

I sensed that I would get no further explanation, and so I let it go, but it gave me a deeper insight into the murky world she inhabited.

Soon my hand had found her breasts, smaller and firmer now, but still topped with those little bullets that were her nipples. It felt good to touch them again and I played with them for a long time, moulding, squeezing and stroking them, then tugging at her nipples and rolling them between finger and thumb. Sophie groaned and gasped, holding tight to me, but making no effort to guide or command me as she once would have.

"God, Dermot, I've missed that." And so had I.

I moved a little so that I could take her nipple into my mouth, and at the same time I reached between her legs, seeking her pussy. She turned onto her back and spread herself wide to give me unrestricted access, letting my hand go where it wanted and do whatever it wished. Touching her pussy I discovered to my surprise that she had let her pubic hair grow back, long and thick, perhaps as a subconscious way of dividing her old life to this one. Paying customers would not get the smooth and silky Sophie that I once knew.

I parted her bush with my fingers and stroked the length of her slit, causing Sophie to gasp with pleasure and cling to me tightly with the single arm she still had around me, pulling my mouth hard against her breast. She was wet, soaking wet, her pussy open and slippery, just waiting to receive me. I slid one finger inside her, making her groan, and then pushed another alongside it, hooking them both slightly before pushing in and out of her.

"Oh, my God, yes." She said, reaching down with her free hand to place it over mine and feel my fingers working to and fro.

"Dermot, I know I shouldn't ask, but could you still fuck me?"

"Yes, Sophie. I'd love to." I mumbled from around her breast.

"Even knowing what I do?" She gasped loudly as my fingers were rammed deep into her and I smiled by way of answer.

"It doesn't matter." I meant that.

"But you'll have to wear a condom." She looked at me as if to say 'did I realise that?'

That's when it all came home to me. Up till then I'd accepted that Sophie fucked men and got paid for it, but I hadn't realised just what that entailed. Even what she had told me such a short time before hadn't really sunk in until she mentioned that condom. That's when I understood the reality of prostitution. It wasn't just being paid to do a pleasurable act. It wasn't just the opening of legs and closing of minds. It was not even just the effect on the girls' mental and physical well being. It was the alienation, the rejection by society, as well as the effect on their health and that of their clients. Sophie didn't know if I'd want to fuck a prostitute, as if prostitutes were no longer women. I was moved and didn't know what to say.

Sophie picked up on my hesitation, but she misinterpreted it. She began crying quietly, tears streaming down each side of her face and onto the pillow.

"I'm sorry Dermot. It's not that I don't want to feel you inside me, I do, I really, really do, but you know what risks I take. I'm sure I don't have anything, honestly. It's just that I care for you more than anything and I want to be safe for you, just in case."

She had said it without saying it, and probably without knowing it, but I spotted it straight away, and my heart leapt. Both of us had been thinking and speaking in euphemisms, using the phrase 'caring for' instead of what we really meant -- 'loving'. I made my decision then, though I didn't say anything to Sophie until later.

"Sophie, my Sophie, don't you know, I'd wear a cardboard box for you if necessary."

She giggled at the imagery, the giggle getting louder and less controlled until I began to fear she would become hysterical. But the laughter was just a nervous release that mended the tears and we were soon back to kissing and hugging like adolescents at a drive-in, clothes not withstanding.

After a few minutes she disentangled herself enough to reach into a bedside cupboard and take out a little bowl containing a selection of different condoms. She didn't even look at the varieties, but just took a condom from the bowl and replaced it in the cupboard, her eyes locked on mine the whole time, trying, I guess, to gauge my reaction. Still looking directly at me her fingers tore open the packet and took out the rubber, then she reached for my cock and expertly enveloped it in latex. Once again her eyes glistened with tears.

"I'm sorry, darling Dermot, I'm so sorry it has to be like this."

It had been a long, long time since I had last worn a condom, and never before with Sophie, so the sensation of entering her strange, but nonetheless it felt almost like coming home. I slid into her waiting pussy like it was only yesterday I'd been there before, and began to thrust into her deep and meaningfully in just the way I knew she liked. For a short time she lay beneath me tense, perhaps not used to sex with an emotional rather than commercial overtone, but soon she relaxed and moved with me, gasping and moaning in my ear while gripping my shoulders and pulling me hard against her. My climax came slowly, delayed maybe by the sensation reducing condom, and so her orgasm had time to build, its pressure getting more and more intense until finally we both came together, shouting out, grabbing at each others bodies, holding on for all we were worth with Sophie gouging furrows in my back and my fingers leaving bruises on her arms where I held her.

I felt the reservoir at the tip of my condom fill with my cum as I spurted into it, happy that the condom had let me enter her, but wishing that it was Sophie's womb that would be receiving it instead. All the time I was cumming Sophie was bucking and shuddering beneath me, held fast by her own colossal orgasm, an orgasm so intense and so powerful that it left her drained and in tears as it passed. As for myself, I felt a mixture of elation that I had made love to Sophie for the first time rather than having simply fucked her, and sorrow that it had to be in such circumstances. We were both on a roller coaster of emotions.

Our post coital embrace was a strange one. Neither of us quite knew how to react and so neither of us reacted at all. I let my flaccid cock slip from her pussy, and then I rolled to one side and removed the spunk filled condom, an act that Sophie diplomatically ignored. After that I reached out and took her hand so that we lay side by side, string at the ceiling, wondering what to say and how to say it. In the end neither of us said anything and we both drifted to sleep. At one point in the night I think I felt a pair of soft lips fasten gently over my cock for a few seconds, but I truly can't be sure, even though I hope it was for real. I did wake later to visit the bathroom, and someone had switched off the light, so Sophie had been awake at some point.

In the morning I woke before she did, and just lay on my side watching her breathing, conscious of how beautiful she looked. I lay like that, watching and drinking in her beauty until my arm became numb from leaning on it and I had to straighten it. The movement disturbed Sophie and she stirred quietly before her eyes popped open and she focused on me. At first she seemed confused to see me, but then I think memory returned and she smiled, a gorgeous smile of pleasure.

"Hi,"

"Hello Sophie."

She smiled and stretched, then, without warning, she slipped out of bed and headed for the shower. I'm glad she did, because the short absence gave me time to gather the nerve to tell her of my earlier decision.

When she came out of the shower wrapped in an incongruous pale lemon bath sheet I held out my hand and steered her to sit on the bed. She looked at me but said nothing, understanding that I had something to say that needed her attention.

"Sophie, meeting you again has made me realise that I love you. Will you come back and live with me?" I put it as simply as I could.

Emotions, most of them positive, flitted across her face in rapid succession before a look of regret settled on her.

"How can I, Dermot? I love you too, but I'm a whore and you don't need a whore in tow."

I shook my head.

"No Sophie. You used to be a whore, but now you're my fiancée. Leave that part of your life behind and start again as my wife."

This time her tears were tears of happiness, and this time I shared them.