I Needed a Wife

Tracy listened carefully as I explained what I wanted her for. Then she sat back and sipped from her wine glass. While I waited for her answer, I studied her more carefully.

She was a little above medium height, slim, with long, light brown hair. Her face was pretty rather than beautiful but -- as it did when we first met -- it could also look very sexy. Her breasts could never be described as large, but they still seemed just a little too big for her figure, with its almost boyish hips and endless legs.

There was nothing boyish about her ass, though. It was high, firm and beautifully rounded.

She crossed her legs, recapturing my attention with practiced ease.

'So, you want me to pose as your wife for the weekend, for this party?'

'Yes.'

'And if some of the other men come on to me, I'm not to play too hard to get?'

'Correct.'

'Meaning I let them fuck me if that's what they want?'

'Yes.'

'Two-five.'

'I'm sorry.'

'I'll do it, but it'll cost you two and a half grand. In advance. For that I'll arrive with appropriate clothing -- both for the bedroom and all other times -- and I'll allow myself to be, er, seduced, as and when the need arises.'

'Deal,' I said, holding out my hand.

She shook it with a cool dry one of her own and smiled at me.

'So, how've you been, Harry?'

Tracy and I met at university. We were never more than close friends, but we did provide each other with a shoulder to cry on when one or other of our relationships went bad,

Half way through her second year, Tracy discovered she could earn herself enough money on the side to see her through her course. I tried to convince her not to do it but she was always a stubborn bitch and not only went ahead, but talked me into agreeing to act as her back-up. Fortunately, my help had only been needed once.

Having earned ourselves upper second degrees, I asked her what her plans were. She told me she intended working as an escort, probably until she was thirty.

'The money's good and the hours are short. What have I got to lose?'

'Your reputation? The respect of your parents and everyone else who knows you?'

'Shit, Harry, you don't think I'm going to tell my parents, do you? I'll say I've landed a job in London and promise to visit once a month. That'll be enough for them. As for my reputation -- no-one down there will know who I am. In fact, you're the only person who'll know and you already know I've been doing it. It hasn't stopped you being my friend.'

'True. Well, good luck and keep in touch.'

Surprisingly, we did, if you can call an email every six months and a card at Christmas keeping in touch. So when my circumstances required me to attend a week-end party, along with a wife whose attitude to fidelity was flexible, I thought of Tracy.

'Pretty good, thanks,' I smiled. 'You're looking even better than I remembered.'

'I work out three times a week, watch what I eat and have lots of sex. Of course I look good. How come you've never married?'

'Never found the right girl. Probably just as well. I mean, who, in this day and age, would imagine a company could work like this one does? One where the wives are expected to help their husband's careers by attending house-parties, turning a blind eye when their husbands fancy a little on the side and providing some on the side for the other husbands?'

'The papers would have a field day,' she nodded with a smile. 'Will you be having some on the side yourself?'

'It's pretty much expected of me. One big, randy family, that's us.'

Tracy laughed and glanced at her watch.

'I'll email you my bank details, Harry. This has been fun but I have to go. Gotta pay the rent somehow. Ciao!'

She rose, accepted a kiss on the cheek and strode gracefully away.

Ten days later I was driving us both to the country house where we would spend the weekend.

'Any idea how it's going to work?' she asked. 'I'm hoping it's going to be a bit more subtle than an auction, or a cattle market.'

'God, me too! No, we're required to dress for dinner and mingle over drinks beforehand. I doubt we'll be seated next to each other so, basically, you're going to have to play it by ear.'

'Fair enough. Where are the dirty deeds done? I mean, if I'm having my brains fucked out in, 'our,' room, where will you be? Wait, don't tell me, fucking someone else's brains out in her room?'

'Possibly. I gather there will be quite a few secluded little spots for illicit liaisons, so be prepared to be whisked away for a quickie.'

'Should I also be prepared to spend the night with someone's husband?'

'No. I believe one o'clock is the cut-off point after which everyone is expected to return to their loved one.'

'So you and I will spend most of the nights together?'

'Yes. But our deal doesn't cover you and me doing it, so don't worry.'

'I wasn't worried, Harry,' she said calmly. 'I just wanted to make sure we're on the same page.'

Things went much as I anticipated. We were shown to our room and informed drinks would be served at half-seven. I met some wives and one or two senior people while Tracy did the same elsewhere in the large entrance hall.

Dinner was duly served. I found myself seated between a fifty-year old woman and one my own age. Both were attractive and I had no problem chatting to either of them. Tracy was way down the room on the other side.

Dinner was followed by a couple of speeches welcoming us all, thanking us for our hard work and hoping we would relax and enjoy the weekend.

After coffee and brandy we could dance to the band in yet another reception room, stay where we were to chat, or find something more personal to do. Pretty soon, it was just me and the fifty-year old.

She was charming, amusing and had a filthy sense of humour. She was also completely shaved and had a gold bar through the hood of her clit.

In the two hours that we shared her bed, I helped her cum nine times. I came three times and, frankly, it seemed a fair result.

At one o'clock I tapped on the door of my room and , not hearing an answer, let myself cautiously in. The room was empty. The window was open and the bed looked hastily remade. From the bathroom I could hear the sound of the shower. It stopped and a few minutes later Tracy emerged wearing a long, white, fluffy robe, with her hair wrapped in a towel.

'Oh, hi. Harry. How was your evening?'

'Different. Interesting.'

'You and the MD's wife, huh?'

'She's the wife of the MD?' I gasped.

'Yes. Didn't you know?'

'How was I supposed to know? I've never been introduced to her and this is my first time here.'

'You should make it your business to know. I have. I've figured out who is best placed to help you up the corporate ladder and made a point of fucking two of them tonight. I'm pretty sure they were well impressed with your, 'wife.' I'll get to the rest before we leave.

'God, Tracy, there's no need to take it that seriously.'

'Of course there is. You've paid me a lot of money to fuck some of the guys here. Why not make sure the ones I do are the ones who can put in a good word for you? Bathroom's free, by the way.'

'No. That's all right. I showered before leaving.'

'Okay well, tell me which side of the bed you want and I'll catch some sleep.'

'Oh. Er. The right side's fine.'

'Okay.'

With that she shrugged off the robe, dropped the towel on top of it and climbed naked into the left side of the bed. I tried to ignore the surge of blood to my groin, undressed down to my shorts and slipped into the left side.

'You want to know how come your company gets away with this?' she asked conversationally.

'Very much so. If it all goes pear-shaped I'd rather not be caught up in it.'

'I doubt it will. Can I put the light back on?'

'Sure.'

She turned it on and hitched herself up against the pillows, keeping the quilt up under her chin. I did the same.

'I know it looks as though the wives are making themselves available for the sake of their husbands' careers,' she said. 'And some of the husbands -- like you, in fact -- feel obliged to join in, again for the sake of their careers. In other words, senior management have their employees by the short and curlies and ruthlessly make the most of it.'

'That's how it looks,' I agreed.

'Well, trust me, Harry, it's not like that at all. The wives are every bit as eager to be, shall we say, exploited, as their husbands are to exploit. This is just a glorified swing and swap club. Think about it. The older women get to have themselves a hot, young stud reminding them of how it used to be; the trophy wives can really let their hair down and get properly laid; the sweet young things can be fucked from pillar to post and tell themselves it's all for the good of their husbands' careers; and their husbands can let loose, get all the pussy they want, without once having to worry about repercussions. Fuck, Harry, whoever dreamed this up is a genius. I bet staff turnover is zero! You should consider yourself lucky to have landed a position. How often do they have these things?'

'Twice a year, I believe.'

'That's perfect. Often enough that the would-be cheaters are prepared to wait, infrequent enough to keep it fresh and interesting for all concerned. As a newcomer, you're going to be in demand tomorrow,' she predicted. 'You satisfied the MD's wife this evening, so now you're fair game for the rest. As your 'wife,' I'm going to be busy, too. Everyone always wants to try the newbies.'

'Shit. Are you okay with this?'

'Harry,' she laughed, 'of course I'm okay with it. It's what I do and it's what you're paying me for, right? Plus it's got the added bonus of allowing me to be myself. I can relax and actually enjoy being screwed, without having to do all the work to make sure the guy thinks he's the best stud I've ever met.'

'Thank God for that.'

'So you're covered for this time, Harry, but what about the next one? And the one after that?'

'Do you take advance bookings?'

'Sure, but I might not always be available. I'm pretty good at what I do and you're lucky I was able to make time for this weekend. I admit I was curious, mind. But have you really thought this through.'

'I could say you were ill.'

'You might get away with that once or twice. But what about all the dinner parties you're going to be invited to -- and expected to hold? I'm not saying they'll be a succession of mini-orgies -- I'm sure they'll be perfectly innocent -- but they might start wondering why I never host or attend.'

'You're a full-time carer for your elderly parents. We hired a stand-in for this weekend but any others would be tricky because your parents aren't happy with change.'

'Good thinking. But could be hard to sustain. No, you're going to need something better than that, something more robust. Anyone who checked would discover it was a lie and that you weren't married. How would that go down?'

'I don't know. Probably not well. Hell, they made a point of wanting to know I was married. As a family orientated business they like a settled work-force.'

'Then all I can say is, enjoy it while you can because I reckon you're screwed.'

'And it was all going so well,' I sighed, agreeing with her analysis. 'You know, you're pretty smart, aren't you? Figuring all this out after only a few hours? Sadly, I guess impressing those guys for me is going to end up as so much wasted effort.'

'It wasn't a waste, Harry. I had fun and so did they.'

'So what would you do?'

'I wouldn't have come up with the crazy idea of inventing a wife in the first place, that's for sure.'

'How about for the remainder of the weekend, we let everyone know you're going to be working away for the foreseeable future?' I suggested.

'And then you discover I'm playing around while I'm away and the marriage is over? Might work. But will they still smile upon you when you're a divorcee? Will your career prospects be the same? I might have been the one who played away, but they're going to wonder why I started straying. Maybe it was your fault. Maybe that's why I was working away in the first place -- to get away from you.'

'You know you're wasted as an escort. You should be working for a company like this one, in their strategy section.'

'Nine-to-five? No thanks. And who says I'm wasted as an escort? Check with the two guys I fucked tonight. They'll tell you how good I am. Better yet, find out for yourself.'

'What?'

'Why not? We're both here to fuck and be fucked and besides, we have unfinished business from when we were students.'

'Jesus.'

Something in my tone caused her to look at me sharply.

'What? You don't want to have sex with me because you don't fancy me -- which I don't believe -- or because you know I'm a hooker? My money's on you being put off because my cunt's available to anyone who's prepared to pay -- and believe me, Harry, there have been a lot of men and one or two women -- who've done just that. Am I right?'

'No. You're not.'

'So why aren't we doing it right now, Harry? Why can't you forget I'm a hooker for an hour or two and just enjoy some good, old-fashioned sex with an old friend?'

'You want to know why?' I demanded, suddenly angry with myself and with what I was about to say.

'Yes. I do. But calm down first. Tonight we're a team, remember? Ideally a loving couple enjoying a naughty weekend we can giggle about afterwards.'

'You're right. I'm sorry,' I said, taking a few deep breaths. 'Okay. Here it is. I fancy you like mad. I always have. Right back from when we first met. But I enjoyed our friendship too much to risk spoiling it by letting sex get in the way.'

'You don't think that might have added to our friendship? Strengthened it?'

'No. Because sooner or later you'd have got bored and found someone else and I'd be too jealous to be able to accept it and that would have been the end of our friendship.'

'Possible, I suppose. Whatever, that's all in the past. What about now?'

'Now I know I won't be anywhere near as good as those you're used to and that you won't be able to avoid comparing me to the others.'

'God, Harry, you really are a fuckwit, aren't you? You think that, as a hooker, I'm constantly having mind-blowing sex? Think again. You obviously know nothing about the realities of the sex industry. Think about it. Whatever you buy, you like to think you're getting value for money, right? Whether it's a car, a meal or a pair of shoes? The guys who buy my time for a couple of hours want to feel they got their money's worth, too. At my level, that means you have to work hard to keep yourself in shape and you devote yourself to convincing the client he's never had a better piece of ass in his life and, if he doesn't come back for more, he never will again.

'Those guys don't give a flying fuck about my satisfaction and whether or not I'm enjoying myself as long as they get their rocks off. They're lousy lovers -- even though you're doing your best to convince them the opposite. Sure, some have bigger than average cocks. So what? Some have smaller ones, too. I don't have either the time or the inclination to think about how they compared to the guys I fucked the night before because I'm simply doing my job as well as I can. Like any other worker is supposed to, be they refuse collectors or brain surgeons, I take pride in giving a good service. But to say you're worried about how you might measure up against any of them is bullshit.'

She clicked off the light and I felt her settle down again.

'Tracy?' I asked hesitantly.

'What?'

'I'm sorry.'

'For what?'

'For thinking your work makes you less of a person and for letting my insecurities upset you.'

There was silence for a while and then the light clicked back on. This time she didn't bother pulling the quilt up with her when she sat up. Her nipples looked very hard. She noticed where I was staring and laughed.

'You mean what you just said?' she asked.

'I do. I swear it.'

'You're not just saying that because you're worried I might storm off tomorrow and upset your stupid scheme sooner rather than later.'

'No. Really, I promise.'

'Prove it.'

'What?

'Prove you weren't just saying that?'

'How?'

She gave me an evil grin and flipped away the quilt, revealing not only her naked body, but also my erection, as it strained against my shorts. She grinned wider.

'By fucking me senseless. And, just for the record, I should tell you that weapon of yours has looks to be in the 'well-above average' bracket.'

'Looks?'

'I'll need to make a much closer examination to be sure, but yes.'

'God, Tracy, I don't need to examine you closely to know you're way out of my league.'

'Don't start with that crap again. And you fucking well better had give me a close inspection. A really close one. I --'

I didn't give her chance to say whatever it was she was about to because I more or less threw myself at her. I lasted less than ten minutes -- which included some token foreplay -- after which she gave me a patient smile.

'Now you've got that out of the way, will you do it again and this time, take it easy and do it properly?'

'Oh God. I'm sorry, Tracy.'

'Don't be sorry -- it was very flattering. Just do it better and for longer this time.'

'I will,' I promised, 'if you give me ten minutes or so.'

'Fuck that!' she said, slithering down my body.

In less than five minutes she had me good to go again and I had a greater understanding as to why she was successful in her chosen career.

The second time lasted close to forty minutes. I got distracted by the wonder that was her body and only afterwards realised I'd licked her out regardless of the semen that had been leaking out of her.

'Much better,' she said approvingly. 'You made me cum twice which never happens when I'm working. With a little guidance from the right woman, you could become something special.'

'Do hookers have boyfriends?'

She burst out laughing as she caught on to what I was saying.

'Not for long. They tend to give up when they find they can't reform us. Face it, Harry, how many men do you know who would put up with having to wait until their girlfriends have finished fucking for the evening, before getting some for themselves -- presuming the girl wants more, that is?'

'I'd wait for you.'

'You say that now, Harry, because we've just had some really good sex and we'll probably have some more. And you might tell yourself you still believed it a month or two down the line. But after six months, during which time I'd have fucked going on for a hundred men, would you still believe it?'

'I really can't say. Possibly not. But I'd like to try.'

'Let's get through this weekend first, huh? We both need to fuck three or four each before we can say it was a success from our point of view. Then you can take me out to dinner sometime and we can talk.'

'What about tomorrow night?'

'We'll still be here,' she reminded me.

'No, I meant, tomorrow night can we do it again?'

'God, I hope so! We can do it again now, if you want?'

'I'd love to. Only I'm not sure . . . You know, three times in an hour? On top of the two with the MD's wife?'

'Look at me, Harry. No, not my face, my body. Don't you want to stroke my breasts? Maybe nuzzle them a little? Finger my pussy, perhaps? It was very naughty of you going down on me like you did, when I was all messy, but would you like to do it again? I know I'd like it.'

'How do you do it?' I asked, sometime later, when she was curled into my body and practically purring.

'Do what, Harry?' she asked contentedly

'Got me hard without even touching me?'

'The easy answer would be to say tricks of the trade. But in this case, I surprised myself by realising I wanted to as much as you did.'

'Honestly? Not because you knew it was what I wanted and because --'