Laura came through the door carrying her briefcase and had her suit jacket draped over one arm. She was wearing a white silk blouse and a tight navy blue pencil skirt. Her hair was parted in the middle and hung straight along the sides of her face. Laura's a pretty girl, but she desperately needs a total makeover. Her body is young and trim with perky tits and I assumed a stone flat belly. I smiled as she approached and asked, "Do you want me to drive?"
She smiled and replied, "Unless you like riding in a twelve-year-old Impala, I guess you should drive."
"Jump in then," I answered.
I put the Benz in gear and headed off to nowhere in particular.
"So, where do you wanna go?" I asked after a block or two.
She smiled and said, "I need a drink."
"Me too," I replied then added, "I don't know this side of town very well do you have a suggestion?"
"I like the Third Street Pub," Laura suggested.
We had just passed Sixth Street, so I figured at Third we'd be turning. "Which way on Third?" I asked.
"Make a right at Third, the pub is at Third and Spruce,” she said.
Traffic was heavy so I couldn't turn right on red and while I waited for the green I asked, "So did you talk to his lawyer?"
"I did," Laura replied.
"And?" I asked.
Laura smiled, then said, "Well let's just say our drinks will be to celebrate."
I smiled widely at her as the light changed, and I turned onto Third. "Walnut, Elm, Spruce?" I questioned her.
"Yep, that's right," Laura replied.
Half way between Elm and Spruce Street I spotted a parking space and steered the Benz in. I turned a little toward Laura with an inquisitive expression on my face.
"Let's get that drink first then I'll explain all the details," Laura said.
The anticipation was killing me, but I figured she'd explain soon enough.
As we walked the half block to the pub at the corner, two middle-aged men approached us. I could see from their expressions that they had started happy hour a couple of hours ago.
“Hello, Betty,” one of them exclaimed in a rather loud, boisterous tone of voice.
Both were staring at my tits as they neared. Laura and I actually had to stop walking since they were blocking our way.
The loud one spoke first, "You ladies want to have some fun?"
I cocked my hips and smiled, giving him a glimmer of hope. "What makes you think we'd have fun with the two of you?" I asked, still smiling.
They were clearly intoxicated and, in that state, more abrupt than most men. The one who was doing the talking smiled and replied, "Well, my friend here has a cock that goes halfway to his knee, and I can comb my eyebrows with the tip of my tongue."
Laura kind of rolled her eyes, clearly not wanting this conversation to continue, but I, on the other hand, felt like toying with them a little more before I shot them squarely between the eyes.
"Well, that certainly sounds very inviting," I replied, making them both think they were gonna get laid.
I cocked my verbal trigger and took careful aim. With a wide smile, I said, "If you two were the last men on earth and my friend and I the last two women, humanity would be doomed. Now get the fuck outta our way before I kick your drunken balls up between your shoulders."
Their expressions instantly changed to ones of flaming defeat. "Well, you two can go fuck each other then," he replied as he cleared a space between him and his friend for us to pass.
Laura and I sidestepped them and continued toward the pub. I heard the silent one say "fucking lesbos" as they stumbled off down the street.
Laura giggled and said, "You handled that perfectly. I could never have led them on like that."
"Trust me, hun, men are so easy to lead on, all you have to do is raise their hopes a little, and they will do almost anything to get laid," I remarked.
She laughed and said, "Is that a trade secret?"
Her clear reference to my line of work didn't really sit well with me and I replied, "No it's a fact of life something you mustn't have learned just yet."
We entered a packed pub. I stretched up, trying to spot somewhere that we could sit and have at least a chance at a private conversation. But there didn't appear to be an empty table or even two stools at the bar.
"Oops," Laura almost had to yell in my ear over the uproarious noise in the place.
I held one finger up and then pointed toward the other end of the bar, “Let me handle this; watch and learn," I suggested.
I took the lead as we made our way through the crowd of happy hour drinkers surrounding the bar. I smiled at any man who glared at me, looking for just the right one. Then I spotted them, two guys sitting on stools beside one another. Neither speaking, both just watching everything going on around them. I stopped behind the space between them.
"Excuse me," I said between their ears. They both turned to look at me. "Would it be possible for me to squeeze between you guys and order drinks for me and my friend?" I asked, flashing a big smile and just shaking my tits a little to get their undivided attention.
Laura stood behind, taking this all in. The one guy spoke for both. "Sure thing," he said with a lecherous look on his face; I knew in an instant he was my target. I turned more toward him and squeezed between them, pressing my tits against his arm firmly.
His eyes dropped to the soft melons and the visible cleavage between. Holding my hand out toward the bartender as he passed caught his attention, and I ordered two glasses of white wine.
As I waited for the drinks I smiled and kept the pressure against his arm. His buddy behind did his best to watch what was going on occasionally looking back and smiling at my young friend.
I leaned close to his ear and said, "My friend and I have been on our feet all day. Do you think there is any possibility of talking you two gentlemen into giving us your stools?"
The barkeep returned with our drinks, and as I turned to hand Laura her glass, I rubbed my nipple over his bare forearm. He leaned over to his drinking buddy and said, "Sam, let's let these two lovely ladies have a seat."
Sam kind of shrugged his shoulders and said, "Yeah, sure."
They both slipped off the stools, and, with huge smiles on our faces, Laura and I replaced them.
Now that we had seats I needed to dash the hopes of these two who were standing directly behind us.
I turned and said, "Thank you so much. Now run along; we'd like some privacy."
With the same down-in-flames expressions as the two drunks on the sidewalk had, the two of them wandered off to other parts of the bar, leaving Laura and me alone in the crowd.
"I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes," she said, giggling at how easily I'd manipulated them.
I leaned close to her and said, "As I said before, give them a glimmer of hope, and they'll do almost anything."
She smiled and replied, "I could learn a lot from you, Margaret."
I only wanted to learn one thing, and that was the outcome of her phone conversation with Barry's attorney.
"So tell me what we're celebrating?" I questioned her.
Laura smiled and began, "Well, our suspicions were correct. His attorney told me that the last thing Barry wants is to have a long drawn out proceeding with depositions and arguments in open court. It seems your soon to be ex is in line for a partnership with the firm."
"That fucking bastard," I exclaimed, knowing his slut secretary would most likely be reaping the benefits of being a partner's wife.
"Anyway, I told him that I was certain you'd want the house free and clear, all the contents, your car paid for, and a monthly alimony of twenty-five hundred."
"Twenty-five?" I asked.
She smiled and replied, "I had to give them something they could negotiate on."
"What did he say?" I questioned her hoping she was going to tell me they agreed to it all.
"Well, first, he balked at paying off the house. The balance owed is apparently substantial," Laura said.
"I really have no idea Barry took care of all that," I admitted.
"I told him that the house was not open to negotiation and that if he didn't agree, we'd file a countersuit alleging adultery and ask for depositions to be scheduled," Laura continued.
"They agreed to the contents and the car, but he told me he would have to talk to Barry about the house and the alimony," Laura said.
"Is that where it's at now?" I asked.
She smiled and explained, "No, since we are in such a strong opening position, I put the pressure on him and told him I'd give them an hour to get back, or I'd start the countersuit."
"Wow, you really play hardball," I remarked.
"Trust me, when you have the kind of advantage we have, you go for the jugular," Laura answered.
"So, what happened?" I asked.
"It took thirty minutes for him to call me back," she said.
I smiled, waiting for her to finish.
"You get the house free and clear, all the contents, your car, and fifteen hundred a month in alimony," Laura said, with a huge smile on her lips.
"You have got to be kidding!" I exclaimed.
"I don't kid about those kinds of things," Laura said, then added, "They came back with a thousand-a-month offer, and I got them up to fifteen."
"Margaret, do you have any idea what a senior partner at that firm makes a year?" she asked.
"Not really," I admitted.
She shook her head and replied, "It's seven figures, hun."
"Oh, my God,!" I exclaimed, then added, "He's going to make over a million a year?"
"You got it," Laura answered.
"He'll be out from under the debt of this divorce in less than a year," she remarked.
"That fucking bastard!" I exclaimed, but with a huge smile on my face.
I leaned over and gave my lawyer a big hug, "Laura, I can't thank you enough."
"Trust me, hun, if you pay my bill, that will be thanks enough," Laura said.
While we were talking nearly every single or should I say stag guy in the place had checked us out.
As we finished our first glass of wine, a rather handsome guy approached and poked his head between us, “Can I buy you ladies a drink?" he asked.
Laura smiled at me, then turned to him and loudly said, "Fuck off, ass hole."
I instantly broke out in laughter, "That works, too," I said, trying to contain myself.
She leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Let's get out of here. I'm hungry, and I'd be happy to let you buy me dinner,” a smile on her lips.
I put a twenty on top of my glass, and we slid off the stools. A sea of men parted, knowing they would go down in flames, like the guy Laura had told off, if they even tried to speak with us. In a moment, we were outside and headed back to my car.
As we pulled out of the space, I asked, "What are you hungry for?"
Oh, I don't know, something quick, I guess," Laura replied.
I giggled and said, "Mickie D's?"
"Not that quick. There's a neat little retro fifties dinner a few miles from here. They make the very best California cheeseburgers and fries," Laura suggested.
I smiled and answered, "Burgers and fries it is then."
On the way we continued to talk about how easy coming to an agreement on my divorce was. Laura kept telling me how Barry knew that he'd either give me want I wanted or stand a chance of not only missing the partnership position but of losing his job completely if the divorce got really messy.
She explained how these big law firms put so much into their public image that even the slightest appearance of impropriety could hurt their bottom line for years. Barry understood that and couldn't take that chance.
"Imagine what would be said if it came out that one of their associate partners' wife was turning tricks on the side. My God, the corporate clients would bail in an instant," Laura explained.
"You didn't tell him that, did you?" I asked.
"Oh my God, no," she instantly replied.
"Good!" I exclaimed.
"Make a left up here," Laura said.
I turned left at the next intersection and instantly knew we'd arrived at our destination.
A completely chrome diner was just ahead on the right. Out front, a big neon sign flashed, “Moe's Diner.”
I pulled into a space out front and turned the engine off.
"This place looks like something right out of "Happy Days," I commented.
Inside, the glimmering chrome continued, with the exception that every seat was covered with bright red vinyl.
The place was maybe half full, mostly younger teenage-looking types. Some dressed in fifties outfits to complement the image.
The waitresses all wore black skirts and white shirts with white aprons and most had period hairstyles, most likely a requirement of employment at Moe's.
One young waitress greeted us as we stood by the entrance.
"Can we sit in the back?" Laura asked pointing toward an area that didn't appear to be in use that night.
"I guess so," the pretty young girl said.
We followed her to a booth away from the rest of the customers and sat down on the red vinyl-covered bench seats. She handed us each a menu and said, "I'll be right back."
An old-style jute box was mounted on the wall with pages and pages of tunes guests could select from, all vintage rock and roll from the fifties.
"This place is amazing," I commented as I flipped through the music selections.
"You should see it when Moe sponsor's one of his cruise nights. Street rods and muscle cars all over the place and everyone looking like they just came off the set of 'Grease' the guys trying their best to look like John Travolta, and the girls like Olivia Newton-John," Laura explained.
"That is so cool," I replied.
The waitress returned and asked, "Ready to order?"
Laura replied, "California cheeseburger and fries with a lemon coke for me."
Since she raved about that earlier, I figured I'd try one too, "Same for me and a diet coke."
The young girl left us without saying a word.
As I continued leafing through the selections on the jukebox, Laura asked, "So, Margaret, will you tell me about your work?"
"Sure, what do you want to know?" I asked.
Laura thought for a moment, then asked, "Well, you obviously don't stand on a street corner, so how do you find johns?"
I frowned and answered, "First of all, they are not johns. They are clients, and we don't call them tricks. It's an appointment."
"Oh, sorry," Laura replied.
"Everything is internet based. Our company has a web page where prospective clients can view photo galleries of the girls that are available for appointments. The web page is managed by my employer," I began.
"So he's not your pimp, I assume," Laura interrupted.
"Not even close," I shot back.
I continued. "A prospective client contacts the webmaster and arranges the escort of his choosing and then electronically signs an affidavit acknowledging that they understand the service is for accompaniment only. They pay for that using a credit card, the fee is reasonable enough as to not look out of line or imply anything more."
"And your employer has run this affidavit by his attorney?" Laura asked.
I kind of shrugged my shoulders and then replied, "I would assume they have."
"I receive a percentage of that fee as reportable income. Once an appointment starts, it is my responsibility to determine if the client wants more than just the arm ornament that he's paid for or if he would like something additional, which is paid directly to me in cash as a tip," I explained the whole process in basic terms.
"I have to report my tips to my employer and pay a percentage to them in cash," I added.
"What about undercover cops?" she asked.
I smiled and replied, "We are very careful not to offer sex for cash in our conversations with a first-time client. If sex happens, it does so because the escort found the client extremely attractive, and the entire process becomes consensual, adults enjoying a mutually beneficial sexual encounter."
"Pretty smooth," Laura commented.
"The client offers a tip at the end of the appointment for the escort service only," I said with a shit-eating grin on my face.
"And what about someone who doesn't want to tip?" she asked.
"Black listed in the company records as abusive and banned from ever contracting for our services again," I explained.
"I assume that doesn't happen very often," Laura said.
I smiled and said, "Look at this body." Straightening up so my tits showed. If you were a man, would you want to be blacklisted from these?"
"I suppose not," Laura replied then asked, "But what about ladies does your company provide male escorts as well."
"Not at this time," I replied, then smiled and said, "But I guess a woman could contract for a female escort."
"And you would accept that kind of appointment?" she asked.
I smiled and asked, "Why are you thinking about trying our service?"
Laura giggled, then said, "Well, I am bi."
I sat back against the red vinyl seat back and crossed my arms just under my tits.
"My lawyer is bi-sexual?" I asked.
"Yes," Laura admitted.
I laughed and replied, "Well, you do know that I'm tri-sexual."
"What's that?" she asked.
I grinned and said, "I'm willing to try anything sexual."
We both giggled just as the waitress returned with our order. As she slid the huge oval-shaped plate in front of me, I looked down at the most scrumptious-looking burger I'd ever seen, and a pile of thick steak cut fries that overflowed the edges of the plate.
"I'll be right back with your drinks," the waitress said.
"Wow, I'm gonna need a doggie bag," I said, picking up one fry and tasting its salty flavor.
"I almost always do too," Laura said.
Our drinks arrived, and the waitress asked if she could get anything more.
Laura shook her head as she nibbled on a fry, and the waitress turned and left us alone.
I had to open my mouth very wide to get the first bite of California burger in and Laura seeing that asked, "Have you ever taken a bigger bite of something?"
After chewing the first delicious bite, I answered her question, "Hun, in my line of work, you have to be able to take big things in your mouth."
Laura giggled at my reference to oral sex.
"So you know how to deep-throat a big dick?" she bluntly asked.
I grinned and replied, "I've had more than a few cocks down my throat."
"Geez, I wish I could do that. My boyfriend wants it so much, but I can't seem to get by gagging all the time," Laura admitted.
I leaned forward and said, "It's all a matter of relaxation and wanting the sensation of a throbbing cock in your throat more than your body wants to gag."
"When did you learn?" she asked.
I smiled, remembering the cock I'd learned on, then told the short version of that story. "My boyfriend in college was hung like an ox, but he was very gentle. Over the course of six months or so, he taught me how to relax not only here," I pointed to my throat, "But here also," pointing to my temple.
"What does it feel like?" Laura asked.
I smiled widely and said, "Like nothing you've ever felt before. You also have to learn how to completely fill your lungs with oxygen because once your throat is full of cock there's no breathing until he pulls back."
"That's something I already know how to do. I used to be on the swim team, so my lung capacity is enormous,” she said.
"That's a third of the battle," I answered.
Laura sat back and nibbled on a fry, "Do you think you could teach me?" she asked.
I giggled and said, "Let me check." As I lowered my hand into my lap and then said, "I haven't grown a cock."
"I've tried it with a vibrator, but the problem is I still gag as soon as it touches back there," Laura admitted.
"And a vibrator just doesn't bend like a real cock," I added.
"I would love to learn to deep-throat and surprise my boyfriend for his birthday in a couple weeks," Laura said.
I thought for a moment, then said, "I have something at my place that isn't quite as stiff as a hard vibrator. Since you worked so hard for me today, I suppose I could return the favor and at least get you started on the right path."
"You'd do that for me?" Laura asked.
I smiled and replied, "Hun, after what you did for me today, I'd be happy to teach you the technique that has had men tell me I'm the best cock sucker on the planet."
"Oh, I can't wait," Laura replied.
"Well, it's early. Why don't we get the rest of these burgers in a doggie bag, and head over to my place and get you started," I suggested.
"I'd love that," Laura exclaimed.
As she waved at the waitress, I explained, "Two weeks is going to require you to practice a couple times a day if you're boyfriend's birthday present is going to be a deep-throat blow job."
The waitress wrapped up our leftovers as I paid for dinner, and in a few minutes, Laura and I were headed back to my place.
In the dark car, with just the dash lights illuminating her form, I could see that she was becoming aroused, her tiny nipples poking at her bra and silk blouse.
Laura broke the silence first, "What about when he comes?"
"What about it?" I asked.
"Should I spit or swallow," she asked.
I laughed, then answered, "If he comes with his cock down your throat, you'll have no choice. It'll be in your stomach before you know it."
"What if he pulls back?" Laura questioned.
"Then it's your choice, but I think it's a waste of good semen to spit. I actually prefer having a man shoot his cum shot all over my face. That way, I can use his cock to gather it up and suck him clean as I swallow every sweet drop."
Laura didn't reply right away; I assumed she was imagining being hit with a hot facial cum shot.
"But his semen tastes so salty," she admitted adding, "One time, I licked his cock after he'd cum inside me, and it really was very salty."
"Every man's cum tastes different. I understand it has a lot to do with their diet, but it's all good and packed with lots of protein," I explained.
"I suppose I could learn to enjoy the salty taste," she said hopefully.
"Trust me, Laura, if you learn to deep-throat his cock his cum will taste like a cocktail from the Gods," I said.
She giggled and said, "First things first. I gotta learn to deep-throat first."
As we neared my driveway, I asked her rather bluntly, "How big is his cock?"
"I never measured it, but it sticks out the top when I hold him like this," she answered, holding her fists one on top of the other.
I laughed and replied, "Sounds like he's got the tool, now we just have to teach you the technique."
I reached up to her sun visor and hit the remote as I came to a stop in the garage. The door closed slowly behind and I said, "Let's get started."
As we stepped into the kitchen, Laura said, "I can see why you wanted to keep the house. This is gorgeous.