Update: Birthday is fast approaching. Getting Desperate. Please respond.
I stared at the entry on the website for five full minutes, trying to make it say more. Trying to gain certainty about what it meant. I had received the link from an email message sent to my club email address. Mrs. Cardinal informed me that she had given me the privilege of viewing it, stating that it might offer a chance to influence my husband's career, as he worked for the named company. I was very tempted to call her or email her for more details, but I thought maybe this was a test. Maybe Kyra wanted me to show some initiative.
I was reluctant. It seemed like this could lead me into a dark, soul-eating emotion-space. I'd felt that often since joining the Last Wives Club, but I just kept going along with Kyra's suggestions, and I had nothing but positive results. I was a happier person and my children seemed to like the new me better. But I would be on my own with this. I remembered how exciting it was to go alone to the induction ceremony, uncertain whether Mrs. Cardinal would be there for me. I decided to take a chance. I entered my phone number and a box popped up requesting a time to call. I entered 4:30 PM.
I was sitting in my car in the parking garage at work at 4:25 waiting for the call and wondering whether I was crazy to be doing so. I knew the ad could only mean one thing, that I would be whoring myself out to enhance my husband's career. But if I tried to help his career directly, that would mean that someone other than my sponsor would know that his wife was whoring herself out. I thought of a devious way to remain completely anonymous just before the phone rang.
"Hello."
"Hello. I am Mrs. Cleveland. You're interested in my classified?" She sounded older than me and somewhat frail.
"Yes, Mrs. Cleveland, I am Mrs. White. Before we go on, can I ask if negatively influencing somebody's career is an option?"
"Yes, I can do that."
"Okay, how may I help you."
"I am sick, dying actually."
"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that."
"Thank you, dear. I've had a good life. But I'm no longer able to be a good wife to my husband and he's in no shape to find a replacement. I want to provide him with a last good fuck before I go, but it would have to be through a proxy. I'm hoping that could be you. Nobody else has been willing to take the risk. You see, he's also very ill."
Whoa! This was not what I expected to hear. I did not want to be the woman responsible for fucking some guy to death. "I'm really not sure I would want to..."
"I assure you, it wouldn't bother him to 'go out with a bang', as he would say. His lungs are failing him. It's such a sad thing, because he was always so athletic. It's only a matter of time, but if you're careful, and if he doesn't exert himself too much, he should be fine. Please, this would mean so much to both of us."
She sounded so desperate. The thought crossed my mind that she may be trying to kill him. But that wouldn't make sense if she was dying anyway.
"Forgive me for asking this, Mrs. Cleveland. Are his affairs in order? Just in case."
"Astute question. Yes they are. Our children get everything."
"Okay, tell me more."
"First, tell me about yourself, nothing too personal, but start with experience level."
"I would honestly have to call that very low. Only two men and one of those is my husband."
"That is not a problem dear, it's actually a good thing. I'm not interested in sending him a jaded pro. What about your appearance."
"I'm 39. A soccer mom, but I work out at least 3 times per week. I'm five foot seven, 125 pounds, proportional, not as firm as I would like to be, but not flabby. I have blue eyes and blond hair, no tattoos, a few scars. I've had children and that's apparent, even without perfect vision."
"That all sounds perfect, dear. He wouldn't want a plastic doll. Are you shaved down below?"
"No, but I have no objection to that."
"It would add to his enjoyment. He also likes confident women. Do you have a nice trench coat."
"Sorry, no."
"Charge one to your card, dear. That's what it's for, and no sister should be without one. Many of us don't like those damn portable tents for this kind of thing, I'll send you a link to a store and they'll be expecting you. They'll also have a mask for you."
"A mask?"
"A costume ball mask. To conceal your identity. It's a time honored tradition."
She proceeded to explain the intracies of what she wanted me to do, and what to expect when I see him. Then she asked, "So there's somebody whose career you want to... impede?"
I told her the name of my husband's coworker, the woman who had fucked him and then rubbed it in my face. I thought that by hurting her career, I would be able to advance my husband's without specifically naming him. I admit it was also a petty attempt at revenge. She was silent for a moment, then she turned as cold as ice. Colder, if that's possible. As cold as ice in deep space, like the Mother Superior, the principal at my high school alma mater.
"I find it odd that you would seek to damage the career of a woman. That being said, we sometimes do that, but not for this woman. I simply can't."
My mind reeled with the implications of this. The coworker must be a sister and that would mean a sister had sex with my husband. What could that mean? Was it random chance or by design? And if by design, whose? Mrs. Cleveland's? Kyra's? I suddenly felt way out of my depth, like a guppy in a tank full of sharks. A path to safety suddenly opened in my mind.
"I see. I apologize, sister. I was not aware that she is one of us."
There was a long pause, then, "No apology needed... sister." Still as cold as ice. "Is there anyone else whose career you would like enhanced... or impeded?"
"I think that I should consult with my sponsor."
As if a switch had flipped, she suddenly sounded panicked. "Please, do so soon. My husband's birthday is next week and I will be in the hospital. Any delay could be bad. Perhaps we should go the engquway route."
I did not understand the word she used. Engquway? I did not want to reveal my ignorance. I had the feeling that Kyra had introduced me into this aspect of the club without proper preparation, but I wanted to forge ahead.
"Please, Mrs. Cleveland, don't get me wrong. I will take care of your husband. I only meant that I would consult my sponsor as to the best way to employ your influence."
Greatly relieved, she thanked me and we concluded our plans without another visit from the Mother Superior.
On the appointed evening, I checked into a hotel. I had called Margo and asked if she had a car other than the stretched limo. I told her the neighborhood that I would be visiting and she promised to secure a suitable sedan. I didn't feel that I would need an armed bodyguard. I just needed the comfort of having a woman accompany me. She was happy to let me sit in the front passenger seat and chat with me as she drove me to the large house and parked in the circular drive. I removed the mask from its box and Margo helped me fasten it securely.
I rang the doorbell and was about to ring it a second time when I heard a speaker pop and hum. The feeble voice of an older man said, "Yes? What is it?"
"I'm delivering a birthday gift from your wife, Sir."
Several small red dots around the door lit up. I recognized them as infrared illuminators. I could not see the camera, but I realized that I was now being viewed by a high end security system. My image would appear in grayscale on a monitor somewhere. I guessed that the camera was probably above me, so I looked up.
"Show me the package."
I took a step back and opened the twelve hundred dollar trenchcoat that Mrs. Cleveland had selected for me. It was gabardine with a silk lining that felt wonderful against bare skin. Underneath it I was wearing what she had told me to wear. Nothing to conceal 'the goods', tasteful jewelry, heels and stockings, and a smile, albeit a nervous one.
"I see no present there."
This was unexpected, but Mrs. C told me that he respected and appreciated confident women.
"Yes, Sir, you do see a gift. I can return it to your wife unopened, but it would be an honor to deliver it to a husband worthy of such consideration by his wife."
I heard a buzz and a click and then the door opened about an inch. A dimly lit foyer was behind it.
"Come to the room at the end of the hall."
Inside, I asked myself, 'What would a confident woman do now.' My hands were shaking as I removed the trenchcoat and hung it in a coat closet. It had served half of its purpose, concealing my nakedness from the hotel room to the foyer. It would be superfluous until I left the house. I steeled my nerves and walked as confidently as I could to the lighted doorway at the end of the hall. On the way, I passed photos and stopped to look at them. A handsome young couple wearing vintage 1970's clothing smiled out from one. The man was tall and athletic, reminding me of Dan.
I saw the same man, approximately thirty-five years older as I entered the room. He was lying in a hospital bed, wearing pajamas and looking expectantly toward the door. I smiled as I walked up beside the bed. I always had a weakness for men with an athletic build. Even in his condition, I could tell that he would have been 'my type'. But I had agreed to be a gift for him because he was now the exact opposite of my type. He was weak and helpless, unable to even assist in what would likely be his last act of sex.
"Happy Birthday, Sir."
"Thank you." His voice was a bit wheezy. "Please, call me John. I would have come to the front door for you. Not just to be civil, but to take your coat and follow you down the hall."
"Thank you, Sir... John." A compliment from John was somehow worth much more than a compliment from Benedict. I could not help but smile.
He smiled. "I have just recently visited the bathroom and have to rest for a bit."
"I understand, John. My name is Cate." Kyra's fairly recent references to me as Saint Cate and Sister Cate had given me the idea to use a pseudonym. Kyra was the only one who had ever called me Cate.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Cate. You are very beautiful."
"Thank you. Is there anything I can get for you to help you prepare."
"A warm wet washcloth from the bathroom, please."
I got the cloth and returned. When I saw that he planned to wash his cock with it, I offered to do that for him. I accepted the cloth from him and he was barely able to assist me in pulling down his pajama bottoms to his knees. His cock was the limpest I had ever seen. I began to carefully wash it, not that it was in any way unclean, but only because he wanted it freshly cleaned. It didn't respond to my touch. His hand came out of the bed toward my pussy.
"Please, Cate.