Sitting there on the sofa next to Porsche had become decidedly more uncomfortable with my cock straining to get out of my jeans.
I had worn my good jeans to the interview–jeans which were cut to fit my body fairly tightly (worn, baggy jeans says slob in a job interview!) and Porsche's teasing my hard cock was not helping the comfort level any!
So after a couple of minutes, I stood up and offered her my hand. She looked up at me and smiled broadly, taking my hand. I pulled her to her feet and then we walked down the hallway to my bedroom.
I shut the door behind us and immediately pushed her back against the wall. Pinning her there, I crushed my lips against hers in a deep, powerful kiss.
She tried to put her arms around my neck as we kissed, but I broke the kiss grabbing her arms and putting them behind her back. I gave her wrists a little tug, indicating I wanted her to keep them there and she did.
Because she didn't have any place to go and was just puttering around the house that day, she wore a simple cami top and stretch-waist shorts–cool, comfortable clothes to work around the house in.
But on her, they were also surprisingly sexy. Porsche had the kind of body and looks that would make a potato sack look good, and the more of her caramel-colored skin she could show off, the sexier and more exotic she looked.
It was to that end that, after we had kissed for a moment or two, I backed up a step and spun her around to come up behind her.
With her now pushed face-first into the wall and me standing right behind her, my hands slid up from her hips up under her cami top to find out she was bra-less!
"I see you are going to make things easy for me!" I quipped.
"And I see you are making things hard for me!" She came back. She wriggled her ass in my crotch to feel what she was doing to me.
Pleasantries out of the way, I grabbed the bottom hem of her top and pulled it up over her head. Then I moved to her shorts and with the stretch waistband it was only a quick jerk from me and a gasp from her and that part of the program was over with as well.
I took her across the room and sat her down on the bed.
"Wait a minute, Alex. I want to talk to you before we get started with anything today," she said looking up at me.
She patted the bed next to her, "Please sit down... there something I want you to know about me."
I sat down where she indicated.
"What is it, Porsche? What's wrong?" I asked.
I was still a bit suspicious of this woman who claimed to love my father. Part of me was wondering if this was when the truth would rear its ugly head.
"Nothing is wrong, honey, I just wanted to tell you something about myself–something I am hoping you can help me with. You see, in my former life as an exotic dancer and... and a whore, I had to deal with a number of customers with all different tastes and fantasies. Some I liked, some not so much.
"One thing I found that I really liked was having a man take control of me. I like sex a little on the rougher side, you know–hard fucking, dirty talking, degrading, make me feel like a cheap whore sex. I like to be used and treated roughly. I like hot, sweaty, rough, and messy sex.
"Your father, bless his heart, can't do that for me. He loves me and he wants to treat me nicely. He knows that I was a stripper and he wants to 'save me from that awful life'. He doesn't know that for me exotic dancing was a step up... he doesn't know I was a prostitute and drug user.
"He treats me like a princess and a queen. I love him for that, but occasionally I like things a little on the wild side. Can you understand what I mean? I am so used to being treated like a whore, that I miss being treated like a whore!" Porsche explained.
"Yeah, I can understand that, I think. People gravitate towards what they are used to. There have been lots of studies done on that–a girl who grows up in a house full of boys will be a tomboy. And a girl who grows up in a home with nothing but girly-girls will be that way herself," I said.
"That's right. And a woman who has been treated like she doesn't matter will look for someone to treat her like she doesn't matter. In my case, I was treated like a common street whore for so long I miss the rough stuff sometimes.
I love that your father wants to take care of me, but in doing so he is unwittingly doing the opposite. I'm not saying I ALWAYS want it rough, but I do want that occasionally. And I am hoping that you can be my 'rough and tumble' guy," she said.
I sat there listening to her explain the situation. I found it rather strange that the very benevolence my father was showing her in getting her away from the booze, the drugs, and the seedy life she had been living was, in fact, actually working against what he was trying to do for her. In getting her out of one unhappy situation, he was putting her into another one. A far safer, but equally dissatisfying one.
I did understand Porsche's point of view, though. And I was pretty confident that I could help... that I could be her "rough and tumble guy" as she put it. I looked into her eyes and I saw a sadness and longing that I hadn't noticed before.
"So you want someone to treat you like a whore do you? You want a man to degrade you and call you names and make you feel like some dirty gutter trash? Is that what you are asking?" I asked her.
"Yes! That's exactly what I want. Alex, I really need this. Your father treats me very good but I am not used to being put on a pedestal.
"And while a little devotion and honor are nice, for someone accustomed to being used and discarded like the paper bag your groceries come in, it's all a bit overwhelming and uncomfortable. I am much more at home being called names, thrown onto the bed, fucked and forgotten," she said.
"Well, I don't know if I can do the forgetting part, but the other things you mentioned are easy enough!
"Now since you want me to treat you the way you used to be treated, you can start off by showing me what you used to do. See, Dad may have seen you in action, dancing and whatnot, but I haven't. So why don't you show me your stuff," I said.
"Ooh, that sounds like fun!" Porsche said excitedly. "Okay, but let's make it more realistic. You go wait in the living room and I am going to put on something to strip out of. Then, if you think I'm worth it, you can bring me back in here.
"We'll call this one of the private VIP rooms my club had for customers who wanted a little more than the standard table dance!" she said playfully.
Porsche headed off to her bedroom to get ready and I went into the living room to wait for the show to start. Luckily for me, I had a few ones and fives in my wallet which I planned on tipping her as she danced.
As I passed the kitchen I stopped at the refrigerator for a beer. If I was going to play the strip club patron, I may as well go the full route!
A couple of minutes later, Porsche came out wearing a long red semi-sheer lingerie gown with spaghetti shoulder straps and a lace-covered bust. It was slit on both sides up to her hips and below the gown, she wore red strappy stiletto heels.
She gave me a little smile as she walked over to the stereo and picked out an appropriate song to dance to.
As the song began, she strutted out to the middle of the stage and began her routine, doing what she was so good at. She moved that five-foot-seven-inch, 32-24-32 body around, doing everything she knew to get me hard as an iron pipe.
And did she ever! Truth was, that she didn't have to work all that hard–Porsche was a very hot little number and I knew was going to enjoy her "motherly care" a lot.
I never got to watch her work a room full of half in the bag horny men, like Dad had seen when he met her. But she certainly had all the qualifications as far as I could see right then.
Porsche wiggled her tight ass at me, ground on my lap, and teased me with her full (and fake as I would learn later) tits.
Admittedly she had to change up her old routine some–we didn't have a stripper pole and that was a big part of her stage act. But it didn't seem like it bothered her too much.
She stepped closer to me standing right in front of me just out of my reach but close enough I got a good show. She rubbed her hands over her body still wearing her gown. She cupped her tits leaning forward so I could see her cleavage good, then stood back up and brushed aside the front panel of her gown so I could see her long, lean legs.
She turned around looking over her shoulder at me while she bent forward a bit until the gown laid against her tight firm ass. She rubbed her ass and gave herself a swat then stood back up and slid a shoulder strap off her shoulder seductively.
She turned around to face me again and pulled the three tiny drawstrings that held the front of the gown closed one at a time starting at the top. With each one she pretended to gasp then continued to the next. After the third tie was released, the gown slipped off her shoulders and she held it up over her tits.
Porsche pulled one arm out of the shoulder strap then the other, all the while covering herself modestly. When both arms were free, she played a little peek-a-boo with her tits, giving me sneaky little glimpses of them before turning her back to me again and slowly letting the gossamer gown slide down her dancer's body, leaving her dressed only in her heels and red lace thong.
