Cut and BJ Ch. 02

Dear Reader.

After 8 years away, I am ready to return to writing. I have a new story I am working on that encouraged me to revisit some of my previous work. Being a complete idiot, I could not get back into my old Xamphos account, so I now have a new one.

Those of you who previously read my stories will be familiar with the original Cut and BJ story and Andrea's tentative steps into sex work. Parts two and three have remained on my computer, dormant so to speak. So here is Part 2 and Part 3 will follow. There may be other chapters. But I have my big story to complete first. I hope some of you will enjoy the return. As always this is a work of fiction. Always practice safe sex, and wear protection. Now have fun with this fantasy.

*****

Andrea aimlessly wheeled the supermarket trolley up and down the shopping aisles. It was Sunday her one day of rest. She was jostled by the other shoppers as they cut in taking items from the shelves, continuing their routine lives.

Husbands and boyfriends were reluctant assistants, looking at the time, thinking of their dinner, before the game or that round of golf they had missed to keep the peace. Some children helpfully crashed trolleys into their parent's legs and other passing shoppers as they attempted to assist the adults so they could get and meet friends.

Andrea looked back at her list; the trolley appeared to be filling itself with the groceries for the week. Had she bought everything she needed yet? All the time she had this feeling she was being watched. Whilst she had only had two 'special' customers, since extending her mobile hairdressing services to something more personal, her guilt made her feel everyone was judging and assessing her. She had deliberately put on a longer shapeless coat that hid her body and trousers underneath. She was surprised to learn from Rose, (her new booking agent or was that pimp) how many men had studied her full ass in her trousers. She thought she had been modest conservative, but any item that was remotely shaped to her body inspired the male imagination. She wondered how many times she had been mentally stripped as she walked these aisles. It made everything so difficult. How easy would it be in months to come doing the shopping knowing she could possibly meet some man or their partner who had well seen an awful lot more of her of body or even touched it, entered it.

Andrea began to wonder why she had ever let Rose talk her into this brief dalliance with prostitution, and then she remembered the money. The money for her two appointments had been good. Much better than anything she could earn as a hairdresser. She had a deadline and a budget and she was improving her chances of attaining it. There was a realistic chance everything for her daughter's wedding would be paid before time. Once she had that money and fulfilled her promise to her daughter to pay for the wedding this would all stop. She wondered if the risk was worth her pride, but she could not and would not go back on her promise. She made a note on the list to buy a lottery ticket. Maybe, this would be her lucky day and salvage her pride in a less damaging way.

Lucky days she thought. It had already been her husband Peter's lucky day, her guilt had meant she had treated him to one special meal and looking in her trolley she realised she had subconsciously been trying to compensate by adding some little luxuries as rewards for her husband's unwitting support. She wondered if she should put them back on the shelf. It was spending some of the money she had earned which was supposedly reserved for her daughter's wedding. She also considered it might be giving out warning signs that she was up to something. The combination of the food, the wine and well her being a little more 'cuddly' in bed, may arouse his curiosity. Thankfully it had only aroused something else in Peter. Despite the morality of her new profession the attention she had received; the fact that someone was prepared to pay for her body had absurdly boosted her own self esteem. She was booked out with appointments for a month and there was a waiting list. This gave her self confidence an amazing lift.

Prior to this venture, her life had spread before her, as a maturing mother, waiting to be a grandmother. Now she was a desirable, attractive woman again, with suitors waiting for her body. Again the pangs of conscience crept in, what would Peter do or say if he knew? How would her family feel if they knew how she had paid for the wedding? These conflicting thoughts were distracting her so much, she wondered if she would ever get to leave the supermarket with a trolley full of the things she needed.

Her mobile phone rang. It was Rose, Andrea eased into a quiet aisle to take the call.

'Rose, what is it? I am shopping.' Andrea hissed strangely annoyed at the interruption.

'Andrea. How was it? Harry just cannot stop talking about you. Luckily it has made him so horny I have barely been able to keep my clothes on. We should have done this years ago. I am surprised how conservative he was considering the price I paid. He could have done that with me, well actually he has and...'

Andrea looked anxiously around wondering who might else be hearing Rose's description of her marital sex.

'Rose which part of I am in a super market did you not hear? Was there something you wanted to tell me, other than about you and your husband.'?

'So shy, I never knew prostitutes were so coy. I thought you would be pleased. He wants a repeat booking. But don't expect it so easy next time. There are some things...'

Andrea could feel her cheeks glowing red from embarrassment. She could not imagine what Harry had said to his wife, more to the point she did not want to imagine the pillow talk and its situation at all. This was supposed to be a discrete arrangement.

'No Rose! No! No! No! You made the deal; it would be a one off arrangement only. No repeat bookings, no regular appointments. It is not what I wanted. This is a particular one off circumstance and the sooner it is sorted the better.' Andrea had feared the possibility of anyone wanting a second booking. A repeat booking somehow made it personal. Like entering a relationship. She had relationships, she had friends, she had family, she had her hairdressing clients. She had one lover her husband. To go back and repeat. No those were her rules. That was the way it would be.

'Andrea. I thought Harry. I mean, I wouldn't let it get serious. He is my husband, and this is just a spot of fun. He will be so disappointed. Please don't say I won't be able to persuade you for at least just one more appointment.'

Andrea looked around her. This whole conversation was too uncomfortable to be held in the middle of a supermarket. But she also realised she was quite vulnerable at the moment. Only Rose knew who the appointments were and when, she was told of her special at the end of each day. That way nothing was written down, nothing could be seen in her diary, it was Andrea's added piece of security. She could not discuss it further now, so she stalled.

'Rose the priority has to be the new appointments. Perhaps if we need to fill a slot we could consider a second opportunity. But perhaps you could start with Walter.'

Walter had been her previous night's special. He had in many ways appeased her conscience, and made her rethink the world of sex for sale. Walter she had known for some time. In years gone by she had permed Miriam, Walter's late wife, hair. He was a lovely man. A gentle man. He continued to have Andrea cut his hair. He had wanted the company as much as anything else. As a widower, he did not get out so much. He visited family and would go for an occasional drink with friends. He had several married friends who had taken him into their social group. But the one thing he could not find was intimacy. Not the lustful, passionate, forceful intimacy many expected from a prostitute. But that soft gentle tender kind, where two bodies settled together in warm comfort. Walter had been considerate with her. Explained he only really wanted to touch her, hold her beneath the covers of his bed. He had been like a shy boy with her. Each time asking could he? Was this alright, that alright, until she had taken his hands and guided them across her semi naked body. She encouraged him to feel her curves, directed him to her breasts and growing nipples. She was almost sad to leave him. But he had been happy. Happier than she had known him since his wife was alive.

She knew many would have thought it disgusting she had lain with a pensioner under the sheets, had his naked body spoon against her back. But then which had been worse that he should be left lonely and frustrated feeling unloved, or that he was given a short time of comfort. If she had to repeat her appointments, Walter would have to be first.

'Um well actually Andrea, I have already accepted another booking for Walter. He is so sweet and well alone. I...'

'Rose. One I can accept. I hope there are not others because you will have to cancel them or maybe go into business for yourself.'

There was a cold note to the reply like a winter wind entering Andrea's ear. 'I am helping you. I do not have a problem. If you are unhappy with the schedule I can leave it with you.'

'Rose. No wait! Look you are doing brilliant job. Like I said I am in the middle of a supermarket on a SUN... DAY and you know there are some things we will need to discuss but I trust you Rose. Do not let me down, and get me into trouble.'

There was a pause on the phone. Andrea feared Rose had rung off. A family were heading Andrea's way she needed to complete the call, but she also needed to know Rose was still helping her.

'Okay. Apology accepted. I will do what is best for you, but you will have to believe me on that. Now the reason for my call. Your Wednesday appointment, his mother will ring you to discuss it.'

'Mother! Rose?'

'Got to run. Harry needs me in the bedroom. Oh Andrea I cannot begin to...'

'Rose who? Whose mother?'

The phone went dead and the family walked past, the husband giving Andrea a strangely familiar look. Oh god she thought. I hope he is not one of my bookings; she looked at the man's wife with her straggly hair with split ends, badly bleached, sallow complexion and sagging breasts. Then she thought 'poor bugger maybe he does need me'. Andrea checked herself, self praise and over estimated worth was not allowed. Then the devil inside her stirred and said but you are better than his wife.

Adele Stephens, from the Estate Agency, was a single parent and mother to Tim Stephens. A quiet youth of 19, who had taken to working as a trainee manager at a local store, when Adele found herself alone after the breakup of her fourth relationship within the 19 years of Tim's life. Tim blamed himself for his mother's relationship difficulties. He saw himself as the baggage in the corner. The same way he felt others saw him. What Tim lacked was confidence and esteem. He had proved to be a good worker, helpful around the store, and got on well with everyone at work. The one thing he failed at was making friends out of work, particularly girl friends. Adele had hoped Tim would go to college or university he was bright, but despite good school reports his exam results failed him. When Josh, Adele's latest man walked out on her, there was no choice other than for Tim to find work. Tim was happy with the situation, he was of an age where he needed to be responsible, to be the man of the house. Adele was happy he felt this way, but she also knew of his problems too. At 19 his relationships had not lasted beyond a few kisses and some fumbled groping. He was sexually frustrated and had taken to watching porn on the internet, and masturbating a little too regularly. Adele had tried different ways to raise the subject of the stains he was leaving; the too direct and obvious stares he made when around the opposite sex. He needed a release, a tutor; he needed a woman to take care of him.

All of this Adele had first mentioned to Rose and she was now explaining to Andrea. Luckily Tim was not at the same school as her son and was too young to have been known by her daughter. Andrea also knew the pain of having a growing son, you wanted them to respect women, to treat them properly but you also wanted them to be a man too. Tim by all accounts, was always polite, respectful around girls, but his hormones did mean he was easily aroused, easily teased, and very easily led by the flirts who took advantage of his situation. The one extra thing Adele explained was that he felt more comfortable around: To be polite, older women, as he mistrusted the girls closer to his age, with some reason, Josh, Adeles ex, had run off with the last girl Tim had been close to, she was 22 at the time Tim had been taking his exams.

Andrea stopped outside Adele's house as arranged on the Wednesday night. Adele greeted Andrea as she approached the door. She was still dressed in her grey business suit, with navy blouse. She was auburn haired, much slimmer than Andrea, with a modest bust. Even so Andrea felt a little uncomfortable; this woman had obviously taken care of herself, spent some time at the gym and looked really pretty. Having made the mental comparison, Andrea was almost ready to run back to her car. She felt a fat frump in comparison; Adele must have known someone at the gym who would have been more suitable for her son. Andrea was shown into Tim's bedroom, he was not home yet. Andrea would have time to change into her sexy clothes before he arrived. Adele had made the arrangements, so she could give Andrea a chance to see something of Tim's fantasies. The walls of his bedroom, did not give any hint of his porn obsession, but the magazines he had tried to conceal from his mum did. They all pictured ladies of a full figure, some in their late thirties many over forty or fifty years old. All be sported, stockings, garter belts, with push up bras, micro miniskirts, high heels and heavy makeup.

'You are not what I imagined.' Adele said as she led Andrea to the bedroom. 'You are well; don't be angry at this, but normal.'

Andrea flushed. What was normal?

'You know you read the papers, see the films, and women that do this. Well they are loud, brash, very cheap. You are not. I mean this honestly, you are just the person I wanted for my son. Someone who has experience of sex without being off-putting. I think you could be good for him Andrea. I think I can trust you. He just needs, to go beyond the two dimensional images, that he is constantly masturbating to, and start to understand that sex is about a person, warmth, sharing. I am sorry this is awfully personal but are you in a relationship at the moment?'

'Yes. I am married, have been for a long time. Like you I am mother too. My son is not much older than Tim, which is why I was hesitant, perhaps appeared a little distant when we spoke on the phone. I mean I have boys of Tim's age visit my home. I have never thought of them as anything other than nice lads. I had not thought of them in any sexual way. Well that would be a little lie because sometimes when out with my daughter we have joked about a lad's bum or his physique. But this.'

Adele paused. Looked at Andrea again. 'You have a daughter. Does her...'

'Know. Not at all. This as Rose will have explained is just temporary. I have something that needs to be handled quickly. So this is pretty much a one off situation. No one knows Adele. I must stress, to both you and Tim, what happens here, stays here. I have a family I love and like you, will do anything for; to give them the best. You have made what some would describe as an odd decision to help your son. I understand what you want, and for that reason I will go through with this, for Tim, for you. I hope he is the young man, you think he is. I would not want to be the one to prove you wrong.'

Adele reached under Tim's bed and showed Andrea the pictures Tim had been looking at, she then turned on the computer and called back some of the recent films he had been viewing. Andrea had found a fancy dress shop when she had been out the previous day, and purchased a very short French Maid's dress in black, made of a thin satin. It came with a matching pair of black stockings. This by chance was similar to the kind of films Tim had been watching.

'Andrea this is my son. It may sound stupid but don't hurt him. Not physically, but he has had a lot nasty comments from girls in the past. He is emotionally tender. You will come as a surprise to him. I hope not a shock. You are pretty, you have the look of warmth about you, and I think he needs.' Adele handed Andrea an envelope. 'I hope this will cover everything. There is not a problem if you think you need more.'

Andrea looked in the envelope. The money was building nicely after just three appointments. She could not decide if she was a sex worker or a social worker, this seemed more like care in the community than anything else. But then most bureaucratic organisations never gave people the support they truly needed, only what was politically correct at the time. The key turned in the lock downstairs and they heard Tim come in.

'Mum I'm home.' Adele held her finger to her lips indicating that Andrea should be quiet.

'Go through to the kitchen honey. I have a surprise for you, but you have to wait for a few minutes.' Adele pointed to her watch, as Andrea considered what she needed to do to transform from hairdresser to naughty French maid.

'Twenty minutes.'

'I'll go down then come back up to check on you. Then I will bring him up if you are ready.'

Adele slipped from her son's bedroom and Andrea set about her transformation. Being a boys room there was no mirror, so Andrea had to use a little hand mirror to complete her makeup. For this charade, there would be no pink. She applied false red nails, darkened her eyes with mascara, and applied a deep rouge lip gloss. Slipping out of her functional cotton underwear, Andrea dressed herself in a half cup black Basque with red lace trimmings on the bra and at the skirt of the Basque, red decorative laces criss crossed the front. Andrea sucked in her tummy as she secured the clasps at the back. She then slipped on the black stockings anchoring them with the suspender straps hanging off the four corners of the Basque. Black French knickers with red ribbons slipped on next then lastly the tiny French Maid's dress. It hardly covered the knickers and left broad expanses of her naked thigh on the display. Andrea stepped into the heels as Adele knocked the door.

'Ready?' Adele called. As I will ever be thought Andrea. Minutes later young Tim entered the room.

'Mum, who is this? She is amazing. She is almost naked!'

Adele did not know what to say. Her son looked flushed, embarrassed, confused but obviously excited. Adele herself was overtaken by the transformation; Andrea looked like she had just stepped off of the page of one of Tim's porn magazines.

'Tim? I am your new maid. I have been helping your mother tidy up and found that maybe you have been a naughty boy. Perhaps experimenting with a few things, searching perhaps for a wicked lady who can perhaps teach you about some fleshy pleasures.'

'Fleshy pleasures?' Tim stuttered. Andrea was pleased to see the youth had not turned away from her, something she had feared. Instead, his eyes darted from her face, to her exposed cleavage, and down to the hem of the very short dress. She turned slightly so he could see the shape of her buttocks pushing out the skirt of the outfit at the rear, giving a slight view of the lace leg of her French knickers.

'Very special pleasures.' Andrea ran her fingers across her exposed thigh, flicked the hem of her dress to flash her French knickers. 'Would you like to learn a little more about how wicked you can be and how much fun it could be? I can give you a very personal guide. Would you like me to stay and lead you into wickedness, let you explore some more flesh or should I go?'