I put the vodka bottle back into the cabinet. Then I picked up another olive for my martini before I placed the jar on the top shelf of the refrigerator. This was my third martini this evening and I was beginning to feel the alcohol.

The TV show I had watched this evening had not helped my feeling of frustration. After the show I had taken stock of my situation again and found it had not changed. If anything, I felt more frustrated and neglected than before. Just yesterday we had had another of those arguments, and it had followed the same old script.

What was wrong? Was it me? No, I decided. I still lived the life I had been taught. I was without a doubt a model wife. I dressed properly in sensible, modest clothes. I cooked, I did the laundry, and I even let my husband Dan have sex with me when he asked for it. Maybe my hormones had changed? For many months now I had missed the sex twice a month.

I decided to talk to Dan again right now. He had come home late as usual and immediately had retired to his small office at the end of the hall. He was staring intently at his computer screen when I walked in and placed my hands on his shoulders.

"Not now," he said, more to the screen than to me, his wife. "Can't you see I am busy?"

"Dan," I pleaded, "can you take some afternoon off this week or next and just relax in the back yard with me, or go to the fair that's coming to town, or anything? I am not picky."

Dan's answer was the same as it had been lately. "Hon, you know it's the height of the season. I just can't."

"I know how important your business is to you," I came back. "But you also have a wife that needs some attention."

"Sweetheart, I am right in the middle of some important negotiations and you start to hang a heavy on me."

"I have heard all that before, Dan." my voice rose slightly in pitch. Let's be blunt about it. Your wife needs some loving. Let me be more blunt. Your wife needs to be screwed."

"Stop bugging me, I am trying to concentrate," Dan answered impatiently.

Now it was my turn for a cutting answer. "Maybe you want me to take a lover to satisfy my needs, eh?"

Dan's anger made him say something he should not have said, but it just slipped out. "Well, if you are so highly sexed and horny that you cannot wait till the heavy season is over, maybe you should consider not just one but several lovers."

I bristled at my husband's sarcasm. I turned and stalked out of his little office extremely angry. The anger was still with me when I rose the next morning. Instead of making breakfast for my husband I decided to run a mile or two. That helped, when I came back I felt much better.

Dan had left already when I returned and I had breakfast by myself. My anger had begun to fade but it returned with a vengeance when I recalled Dan's parting shot. So he wants me to take several lovers, I recalled. How ridiculous. There might be some sluts who screw several men, I admitted, but never this proper girl, I assured myself.

It was after breakfast the next morning, while I was reading the newspaper, that an advertisement practically screamed at me. It was a short and simple ad.

"Hostess needed for newly formed exclusive men's club. No prior experience needed. Applicant must be trim, personable, outgoing, and willing to please. Special dress code required. Excellent tips."

On a whim I dialed the number and a Mr. Benson answered. His voice was low and well modulated a voice that inspired trust. He explained to my great joy that the job did not involve any office work.

"You will be dealing with live people here, not lifeless pieces of paper," Mr. Benson told me. Your personality, your willingness to please, your sexy looks, that is what your customers are looking for."

That made sense. After all this was a men's club and they want some eye candy. I resolved to give them plenty of that if I got the job. I even bought a sexy dress at a boutique for the interview. I had been told not to wear a bra for the interview and I didn't mind, I was very proud of my boobs. They are firm with just a hint of sag. My large aureoles get dark when I get excited. And I knew that my nipples are sexy, except no one besides my husband had ever seen my boobs or my nipples.

Mr. Benson greeted me with a firm handshake and an appreciative look. He was the perfect gentleman with the looks of the aristocratic gentlemen one sees in magazine ads. I judged him about fifty. He looked me over from my auburn hair on my head to my painted toenails and seemed to be pleased with what he saw.

"Turn around slowly," he asked. "Now walk the length of the office. OK. Do it again. Turn away from me and bend over. Hold it there for a moment. OK, relax and take a seat. Cross your legs for me. Good. Stand up and raise both arms straight up, then turn sideways. Nice boobs. Are they real?"

"Absolutely," I assured him laughingly.

"I seem to see your nipples getting hard and pushing at the front of your dress. They seem to be quite sensitive. Are they?"

I blushed deeply, because I could feel that they were erect and swollen, and pushing hard against the fabric of the dress. I knew they stood out a half an inch and so I nodded slowly, admitting that they were indeed sensitive, as if this was not obvious.

The next request shocked me. "Let me see your boobs," commanded Mr. Benson. I was speechless.

Mr. Benson laughed at my embarrassment and the calmed me with his deep, melodic voice. "Young lady," he started. "Modesty is laudable under most circumstances. But to be really be modest you would have to wear a heavy jacket to conceal your assets. Your dress does not conceal but accentuate. Furthermore, I noticed how proud you are of your boobs, and you should be. So go ahead and take off that dress. You are an exceptionally beautiful woman, let the rest of the world know."

I had to admit, the dress I had picked accentuated, and it did not hide my boobs. Well, didn't I subconsciously want to be admired? Whoa, I said to myself, it seems I discovered a new facet of myself. OK, he is right. A second later my dress was off. I looked Mr. Benson straight in the eye and said, "you are absolutely right. The human body is beautiful and I am proud of mine. Look as much as you like."

I suddenly felt liberated and free; the way a woman should feel. And I felt sorry for my sisters who still had to play the game of 'look what I have' and 'no, I will not let you see'. There was a short pause and then I heard myself say "I have made a decision. I would like to be your hostess if you want me."

Mr. Benson rose from his chair and walked around his desk. He took my hand and enfolded it in both of his. "I am glad you accepted. But first some details. Number one, my name is Ben.

Number two, I suggest you wear your uniform as soon as your husband has left and wear it until he returns. My secretary will drive you and pick your stuff after we have finished the paper formalities. You will not be charged for your uniform and you can keep it whenever you quit.

Since you are married I will give you the day shift from eleven to five. You will start on Monday, that's the slowest day. Sounds OK so far?
Ben's secretary was a most friendly and pleasant blonde of about twenty. She introduced herself as Fifi. Her mother was French she explained. We first stopped at a chic boutique and Fifi suggested a maroon cross between a robe and an evening dress. It had a hidden zipper on the side all the way to the hem.

We next stopped at Frederick's of Hollywood. I had heard about it and was wondering how I would react to all the sexy lingerie and dresses. I was glad I did not visit this place yesterday, I think I would have died of embarrassment. Now I told myself that I was a liberated woman. I walked around the store with my head held high. But inside me, there still was a lot of turmoil; the old mores didn't want to die peacefully.

But I became more and more determined as I saw other customers quite nonchalantly talking about dildos and other sex products laid out in the open. After a while I relaxed and even enjoyed looking and feeling the many sexy garments on display. Then I started fantasizing about how I would look in this or the other outfit.

I had told Fifi that this was my first visit and so she let me explore the store. When she felt that I had seen enough and was really relaxed she selected a maid's uniform for me. Next she bought a harem's girl outfit. My pussy started getting wet when I pictured myself wearing these outfits.

"These are not what you will be wearing when on duty. They are only for special occasions like parties. Let's get your shoes first." We selected two pair, a four inch heel, partly translucent, another pair for the harem outfit. Three pair of thigh high dark taupe stockings were added to the shoes.

Finally Fifi led me to the lingerie department and stopped to pick out a black garter belt while I stood to the side, wide eyed. I felt those butterflies again in my tummy. Was I supposed to wear those? No way would I ever dress myself like an oversexed slut.

And suddenly something in me snapped. I pictured my self in high heels, dark stockings and a black garter belt. As the picture came into focus I noticed a tingle in my pussy and I knew I was getting more wet than I really wanted at the moment. My knees turned mushy and I had to steady myself by holding tight onto a clothes rack. I was afraid I might have an orgasm right in the middle of the store.

When it had passed and I came back from my mental excursion and my eyes focused again, I saw Fifi staring at me with enlarged pupils. She opened her mouth and I heard her say in a low voice, mostly to herself "Hot damn. Where have you been when we needed someone like you. You are tailor made for this job. What a hostess these guys will be able to enjoy."

She led me to a changing room and made me put on what she called my uniform; the garter belt, the stockings and the heels. She stood back to admire me and again exclaimed , "Hot damn". I was still in a daze and I think I would have followed her to the car through the store in nothing but my outfit. She went to get the robe/dress.

While she paid for the purchases I stood next to her like a puppy, and then followed her out to the car like a zombie. Back at my car she repeated the instructions Ben had given me and told me that she would call me tomorrow morning.

Twenty minutes later I stood in my kitchen mixing myself a vodka martini and as I added two olives realization of what I had done started settling in. I had taken the first step to becoming a slut, - or was I a slut already? I quickly removed my robe and looked down on myself. And I liked what I saw. This was the new me.

The next few days were like a dream. By the end of the week I was ready. I felt comfortable walking around in my garter belt and heels. But the butterflies came back again on Monday. Fifi welcomed me at the club.

There were only three members present at that time. After introduction I was free to wander about and explore the various areas and rooms. Two of the rooms were obviously reserved for amorous purposes. Both had a raised platform about the size of a queen bed. Their height was about twenty-four inches. They were upholstered with a thick, soft material. Just the right height for a guy ………..

Hold it right there, Jennifer, I chided myself. You are starting to think like a prostitute. Better stop it or you will be one sooner than you think. I went back on the floor and served coffee. Two more gentlemen had arrived and I presented myself to them as the new hostess. After they were seated I could almost physically feel their interest in me. They waved me over and the older one started the questions.

"I know it is impolite to ask a lady for her age, but maybe you are willing to give us a bracket; like from here to there."

"I don't mind revealing my age. I am thirty-two."

Both burst out laughing, "we had you pegged at twenty-four. But I am glad, I like more mature ladies. I think I read someplace that women reach their peak at thirty-five. If that is so, you will be at your peak soon."

The other spoke up. "I see a ring. Is that to keep the wolves away or are really married. You see, I like married ladies better than singles."

"You will like me, I am married."

"Does your hubby know where you work, and what the hostess position really is?" questioned Fred, the older one.

"Not yet," I answered. "But he will. He will hear it from me in about a week, after I get to know some of you gentlemen."

"You seem to look forward to meeting us," Carl, the younger one added.

I smiled at them and we left it at that. But Fred had a parting shot.  "I am certain we will spend some time together and we will get to know each other well. And that's a promise and a compliment, Jennifer."

It turned out that I told Dan the details of my job much sooner than planned. Coming home after work on Friday evening I was in such a euphoric state that I did not notice Dan's car parked across the street.
He had rushed home to grab some papers he wanted to give his assistant who was leaving for a meeting that night.

I had danced into the kitchen and fixed myself a vodka martini when I heard a gasp coming from the living room, just as I slipped off my robe. The next noise was a question from Dan. His voice sounded rather strange, as if he had run out of air.

"What the hell, Jennifer. Where did you come from dressed like that?"

"Hi Dan," I replied cheerily, still in my euphoric state. "Just came home from work."

He was quiet for three or four seconds, just staring at me. "You surely didn't wear that for work?" This was a rhetorical question, more like a statement. It did not need an answer, but I supplied one anyway,

"Naturally I did, this is my uniform when I work as a hostess."

He gingerly stepped into the kitchen as if expecting the floor to open under him. I enjoyed his confusion, mixed with disbelief and denial. I raised my glass and asked if he wanted me to mix him one also. He silently nodded his head. He stood at the kitchen entrance and continued to stare at me, at a loss of words.

When I handed him his drink I noticed his hand was shaking slightly. I also noticed something else, a reaction to me that lately I had seen frequently. I approached him, took his hand and led him into the dimly lit living room where I sat him down on the couch.

"Don't talk," I commanded him. "Pull me off the couch, push me into the bedroom and fuck me. I know you want to. The bulge in your pants is screaming to be let out."

Dan gave me a long look, then put his glass on the floor and changed into the sexual animal I wanted him to be tonight. He jumped up, grabbed my hands and forcefully pulled me up.

"Get your ass moving, Jezebel," he barked and pushed me towards the bedroom. Once he slapped me on my ass cheek to get me moving faster.

"Stand at the foot of the bed, I want to look at you, you sluttish, gorgeous wife" he ordered. He almost ripped some buttons off his shirt in his frenzy to get naked. While he undressed, He kept staring at me with a queer look on his face, as if he saw me for the first time. And in a way he was right, this was the new me, the liberated woman.

Once his shorts were gone he spoke again.

"Jennie, you adorable woman, you are so beautiful, you look so sexy. Fuck the business, I want to fuck you." He stepped up to me, embraced me and kissed me hungrily. I could feel the need he had built up, the many times he had chosen the dollar bill over his wife.

I could feel his turmoil, his sorrow over missed love, the unclaimed climaxes, the embraces and kisses and cuddlings that were forever lost. But I also felt his resolve to be worthy of his new woman.

Not much foreplay today. The urges were too strong. He pushed me on my back on the bed and roughly grabbed my legs and pulled them apart. I loved it, I was now open for him to take me. His hands moved behind my knees and I found myself doubled up, my knees on either side of me at my chest.

He stopped for a moment to look at my now smoothly shaved pussy, causing little flutters down there. I became anxious for a moment if this was all there was to be. After he had filled his eyes he bent his head and teasingly swiped his tongue over my clit. I was not in the teasing mood tonight.

"Fuck me. Fuck me now. Don't you know I need you? The others don't count. It's you I want."

I curled my fingers in his hair to pull him up on top of me. To hell with bring nice to me. I wanted my man inside me. And I almost screamed at him.

"God dam, Dan. Hurry……I want you to fuck me…. I want you inside me….. I want you in my cunt……… hurry…..  "

I sort of hurried Dan moving up to me by pulling on his hair. I released him only after he slipped into me. I immediately felt a mini climax tightening my thigh muscles. The minis came in small waves. Then the dam broke. I went stiff, I flailed my arms.  My chest contracted, I could not breathe for many seconds. When my chest finally relaxed I took in air in great gulps. I must have screamed because my throat was dry and hurt.

It was a shuddering, glorious orgasm, except I must have been out of it for a while because what I just told is all I remember. I needed some rest, my chest hurt, and so did most of my muscles.

I had not noticed when Dan had rolled off me. I only knew he was beside me and I had snuggled up to him. His body felt so good being so close. I felt at peace with myself and the world. I smelled his musky male skin and felt the bit of new stubble on his chin. I was in Paradise.

We must have dozed off, because when I woke it was already nine, way past our normal dinner time. Suddenly Dan sat up  and looked around him. The poor guy appeared utterly confused. Then he saw me next to him and he seemed to remember.

He pulled me up and hugged me and kissed me. It was the kind of kiss I had missed for so long. When we broke he jumped out of bed. His grin was that of a little boy finally finding his favorite toy again that he thought he had lost.

"I am starved," he announced, "and I will make something for dinner. You stay in your uniform so I can look at you and enjoy the sexy show. I am entitled to ogling as much flesh as your customers.

But I do have a question that has been bugging me. You never, ever, used the f-word. And you would have died of embarrassment if someone would have used the word 'cunt' in your presence. Now they roll off your tongue as easy as dew drops fall from a flower petal. What happened?"

"That's no mystery, dear. Prostitutes do not screw, they fuck. They fuck a cunt, not a pussy. I thought you knew that."

He gave me a long look before he spoke. "So the gentlemen fuck you and leave a tip. Is that the way it is?"

"Dan, I think I heard some major disapproval in your last question, which really was more of a statement. So let me remind you that it was your idea of me taking several lovers to blunt my horniness. And there is something else you should know. I love what I am doing, and so do the gentlemen. Anything wrong with making people happy? And furthermore, you should look at our bank account; it grew by over three thousand dollars last week. I rest my case."

Dan was suddenly very busy preparing dinner. But every once in a while he would shake his head as in disbelief.

The next day at the club I received many compliments. There were also many remarks that I looked happier than ever. When Fred arrived with his brother, he looked at me and pronounced me 'WFH'.

"What the hell does WFH mean," I wanted to know.

"I shouldn't say it in polite society like now, but I will since you want to know. It stands for well fucked by husband."

His brother spoke up. "In less than one hour I will pronounce you 'WFC'. And after that…"

"Hold it a moment, Carl," I interrupted him with a big grin. "You know that I have the right of refusal, don't you?"

He laughed. "No one ever refused my charming smile and my magnetic personality."

There was a promise in his smile as he put his arm around my waist and pulled me close. He bent down to whisper in my ear, "you are always special, but today even more so. I have waited for this moment since I woke this morning."

His whispered words made me want to melt into him as he held me tight and I waited for him to turn and move towards the door of the bedroom.

He closed the door, then took my hand and led me to the bed. That was not what I had wanted, I wanted him to wrap his strong arms around me, hold me tight and crush lips on mine. I wanted to feel him wanting me, taking possession of me.

He seemed to feel my need. He stopped suddenly and hugged me hard. His lips met mine and his tongue demanded access. It swirled around the inside of my mouth until I sucked on it. He allowed me to hold him captive for several seconds before he withdrew and let my tongue play the game. I loved the way he tasted, sweet but still with a hint of his maleness.

He released me slightly so his hands could rub up and down my back, mostly with the palm of his hand, interspersed with little scrapings of his finger nails. My whole back was tingling, and like a cat, I hunched my body. That made his little scratchings on my skin twice as exciting.

He had removed his lips from mine to let them and his tongue explore my neck. I felt his lips moving up and down, placing little smoochy kisses here and there, teasing a few spots with the wet tip of his tongue, and then rubbing his cheek over the wet spot to dry it.

I had not noticed when it happened, but now one of his hands was playing with my hair, twirling it, then stroking it tenderly, and finally running little circles in the nape of my neck.

The other hand had somehow crept all the way down my spine and was massaging he area above the cleft of my cheeks. Not just massaging, but also pushing my lower body closer to his. In the meantime he had move his attention to my ear, nibbling on it, and finally lightly sticking his tongue in it. An erotic shock flashed through me.

"I want to make tender love to you the way a lover would. I want to feel your body pressed close to mine. I want to give you ecstasy and sweet delights. I want to show you how much you mean to all of us at the club, but especially to me."

He straightened up to look into my eyes and I could feel his passion rising. He kissed me wildly. I responded at once. This was what I had been waiting for.

And then, for a split second, I grew philosophical, telling myself how lucky I was. With the same lover, in the same hour, I was two females, the female that says, "Take me, I am yours," and the other female who had the job of giving the customer what he came for, sex and companionship.

Then I heard a tiny voice in the back of my head saying
Don't you have a job?
Let me dawdle a little while longer, another voice answered.
You can do much of your dawdling while on the job.
I don't want to mix the two till later, please.
Later it's OK but right now get busy.
work, work,  work; a woman's work never quits.
You seem to enjoy your work, so stop bitching.
OK, OK, I'll combine the two.

I took his face between my two hands and kissed him hard. Then I pushed him back and told him to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Let me do my job first. I want to undress you, if you allow me," I announced and kneeled in front of him to remove his shoes and socks.
"Now let's try the pants," I warned him as I took care of his belt and then opened the zipper. When I ordered him to stand, his pants fell to the floor and he stepped out of them.  I was where I wanted to be.

His dick was glad to be released from the confining skivvies and merrily waived at me. I don't think I will ever tire of watching a man's prick spring to life in front of me, ready to be worshipped.

"I am ready for some loving," I announced to Carl.

I teased him by letting my tongue play under his bulb where the skin starts. It must be a very sensitive spot. It seems most men start making noises at that time. After that I took just the tip in my mouth, sucking on it while I wrapped my right hand around his shaft.

This is always a happy moment for me because I know that from now on my man will be under my power. I slid my lips further down his shaft, but not too far. When I withdrew I heard Carl taking a deep breath.

Next I took him deeper into my mouth. That made Carl thrust forward involuntary. I held his prick in my mouth a little longer, and then withdrew almost to the tip.

He had not expected my next move. He groaned when my lips swiftly slid down all the way on his shaft and I opened my throat to take in as much as I could. Holding a deep throat for ten seconds is no problem for me, and that is what I did.

"Oh God, woman, ………. Oh God,…….  AHHH….." he sort of gurgled, repeating himself several times.

After this little shocker I fell into a steady rhythm for a long time.
Carl was breathing heavy. He almost had his tongue hanging out of his open mouth. As always, when I give a guy a blow job I smile up  at him.  I watched Carl looking down at me, but I didn't think that his eyes were completely focused.

Carl was too excited to last very long and when I noticed that he was close I doubled my suction, and I took him a little deeper with every stroke. When he exploded, his vocal chords exploded also.

"Of God Jemny… AAAHH…… Jenny…. UGGH."

I let him empty himself and swallowed all of his sperm. He did taste a little less salty than most men. I enjoyed his climax with him, happy that I could do it for him, and satisfied knowing I pleasured my man. Is this not what we women most like to do, making our men happy?

"Woman," and then there was a long pause, "Jenny, I don't know how to say it. 'Thank you' sounds so hollow. You gave me something I did not request, something more than the physical aspect. I will treasure you always."

I put my finger to his lips to stop him. His little speech had made me self conscious. Sure, I gave him more than what I was hired for. But I try to give more no matter who the customer is.  All are nice to me and they deserve my best efforts.

Carl had plopped back down on the bed to catch his breath. I wanted to let him rest a while before starting what he had come for.

As I looked at him sitting on the bed I could plainly see that he had something on his mind. He looked at me silently for a long time before the dam broke.

"Jenny dear, now that I am with you I wonder if I really should say what I wanted to say." There came another long pause. After he had gathered up enough courage he continued.

"Jenny, if I asked you to join me for dinner and a dance on my birthday. And if I promise to bring you home afterwards, your home, not mine. Is there a chance you might say yes?"

I was stunned. I never expected to be asked for some friendly time away from the club. My two voices in my head screamed at me, so loud it almost hurt.

"Don't you dare do it, that is most unprofessional."
"But it is such a sweet, wonderful compliment."

"Well, how about your husband, think of him."
"He would let me have an evening with a friend."

"Carl is a customer, not a friend."
"I trust him not to overstep the bounds."

"Do you want to stay a professional or not?"
"OK. I got the point. I made my choice."

"You are such a wonderful, sweet and loving man that it breaks my heart to have to say 'no' as long as I work here as a hostess. But I sincerely hope that you will ask me again once I quit my job here."

"You are right, I should not have asked. I apologize." He looked both dejected and contrite. I pushed Carl onto the bed and gave his dick a kiss of promise. The first thing I did after joining him on the bed was a tongue tickle of his belly button. It came unexpected and caused a small jerk of his body.

I continued kissing his body until I arrived at his nipple. His body reacted with a shiver as I tongued it and then sucked on it for a while. It was pure enjoyment for me to feel him react to my ministrations. I got turned on just imagining the pleasure he must have.

 It was then that I noticed how horny I had become. We kissed for a while and I got hotter and more demanding in a hurry.

He had wanted me, now I needed him. Moving towards his groin I noticed his dick coming to life again. Just the sight of it made me tingle between my legs. There was no time to lose, I had to satisfy myself. Taking his dick in my mouth helped quiet my pussy's desires momentary, but not for long. As soon as his prick was hard enough to fuck me I was astride him and lowered myself onto him. He slipped in so easy; my pussy was so wet it had started to drip.

As I was moving my pussy up and down, I also moved sideways just a bit. I wanted to feel him everywhere, on all sides. And I took him as deep as I could. My orgasm started soon. It started slowly with some flutters. Then the first little contractions started and made my pussy feel alive. My vaginal muscles tightened and relaxed by themselves. And then everything just crashed around me. When It was over I noticed some red scratches on his chest.

"Never mind those. I hope they will stay red for a long time to remind me of today," he told me.

My orgasm did not diminish my need, if anything, I was more aroused than before. I wanted this man to fuck me, I needed a good fuck. I guess last night's time with Dan had made me free to be the woman I am.

I did not have to work on Cal, he had stayed hard and ready. I let myself fall next to him and pulled him on top of me. I don't have that desire often, but today I wanted Carl on top of me. I wanted him to crush me into the mattress. I wanted to feel the weight of his body.

He sensed my need and entered me with a rush and started pumping at once.

"Fuck me….Fuck me hard." I cried. He started to share my frenzy and pounded me hard.

"Yes….Yes… I want all of you………. I want to feel you………… I want you deep……" I urged Carl on.

"Fill me with your dick…….…Stretch me……….Fuck me harder………..Harder…….." I was a mad woman, possessed of only one thought, a dick that would give me another orgasm.

"Don't stop………Don't' slow down…….. YES………….. Yes……. Lover……… I am close."

And then there was thunder in my ears. There were many-colored lights flashing before my eyes, my body went rigid. I tore at the bed sheets. And then there was nothing.

I remember suddenly sitting up and looking around me, wondering where I was and how I got there. It was not until I saw Carl next to me, wide eyed still, that I calmed down and just crumpled in a heap.

"Hold me, hold me tight for a while, please," I asked Carl. "It must have been a wild ride."  Carl just nodded his head and smiled.

When Dan came home from work that night he asked me about my day.

"It was a good day," I answered. "I didn't make dinner tonight. Instead, we will enjoy dinner at Pepito"s Italian restaurant. It's my treat. One of the gentlemen today added another hundred dollars to the standard tip."