Sex for Money, Rent, & Food Ch. 05

Chapter 5

Mr. X will pay extra for what he likes. What Mr. X wants, he gets.

"Well, for starters, he likes shaved pussies and you have a bush. You have time to shave off your fur before he gets here. Also, he likes the young stuff. I'm thinking that maybe, if you put your hair in braids and wear something that looks like a school uniform, you know, a short skirt with a white blouse, maybe you can pass. Also, talk dumb and ditzy, like a dumb blonde and chew gum. He loves the helpless, dumb blonde type. He likes playing the protector, the smart guy, and the big man coming to the rescue."

"Not easy to play a dumb blonde, when I have brown hair," she said with a laugh. "Okay, is there anything else that I should know about Mr. X?"

"Yeah, there's one more thing. Bordering on acting, as if they love him, he likes his women to cum. Listen, I don't care if you fake it, but make it believable and loud. He'll pay extra big, if you give him a good show, one that makes him feel like he got you off. Enjoying having the image of a Don Juan, he has a thing about pleasing his woman, before she pleases him."

"Okay, I got it. I can do that," said June writing everything down, while thinking about all the times she faked an orgasm with her husband, just so he'd finally climb off of her and go to sleep.

"Oh, and, I almost forgot. There's just one more thing."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"Wear a lot of makeup. He's got a thing for blue eye shadow and he likes bright, red lipstick and Angelina Jolie lips. He has a thing about going home with lipstick on his dipstick."

"Lipstick on his dipstick? What's that?"

"Lipstick on his cock," said Larry shaking his head and laughing. "You have a lot to learn about this business, June."

"I'll bring a whole tube of lipstick to reddened his cock, if that's what it takes for him to part with more of his money."

"Good, but don't wear no perfume. He's allergic."

"Larry?"

"Yeah, June?"

"Being that this guy is so particular, being that this guy is looking for a specific woman, how much can I expect to make with this guy?"

"Well, here's the thing, June, if you give him everything he wants, we can make a thousand dollars, that's $500 each. That's not bad for an hour's work. And if you can do what I think you can do to make this guy and others pay more, there's a specialty sex market that I've always wanted to tap and develop."

"Specialty market? What do you mean specialty market?"

"Fetishes. You make the big bucks with special request sex and by satisfying specific fetishes," said Larry.

"What kind of requests?"

"Anything and everything goes," said Larry with a laugh.

"Define anything and everything, Larry, because there are some things that June doesn't do," she said suddenly copying Larry's way of talking by talking in the third person.

"You really never know, until you're in bed with the guy and suddenly, he's handcuffing you to the bed, tickling you with a feather, worshiping your feet, just wanting to talk, or wanting to pee in your mouth," said Larry with a laugh.

"Gross. I'm telling you right now, Larry. I'd never let some sicko pee on me, never mind peeing in my mouth," said June.

"Most guys just want to get off, June. Most guys want to do to a prostitute what they can't do with their wives. As a way to ease you into the specialty market, there's a group of guys who come to the store every year to buy stuff for their little trip. They tell their wives they're going hunting and fishing for a week, which they do, but also they bring a hooker along with them for some relaxing fun, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I can only imagine their definition of relaxing fun," she said with a smug laugh. "I'm following you so far, Larry."

"Well, a guy I know a few towns over supplies them with the hooker for the week and she makes, are you ready?"

"Yeah, Larry, I'm sitting the fuck down waiting with baited breath for you to get the point."

"See, that's your problem June, you need to stroke a guy more to get him off. You just can't beat him over the head with a rolling pin. You need to make the man feel that he wears the pants and that he has the balls and not you. You need to--"

"Larry! Okay, okay. What the fuck? Spare me the sermon. Don't you tell me what my fuckin' problem is, Larry," she lost her patience with him. She hated stupid people and Larry was dumb, even when they were in school together, he could barely read. "You have no fucking idea what I've been through already to get my head wrapped around this sex for money game. A woman who's only been with one man, her husband, to suddenly suck and fuck the likes of you, before agreeing to prostitute herself, to some fuck wad, who calls himself Mr. X, either help me or--"

"Okay, okay, June. Calm down. What's the matter? What's wrong?"

"I kicked my old man out of the house for having sex with my mother."

"Wow! Your mother? That's heavy. Incest is still the best, baby," said Larry laughing. "Now, there's a story I'd love to read on Literotica, Me and My Mother-in-law Have Sex."

"Larry!"

"Okay, sorry, June."

"Yeah, thanks for your support but sorry gets me squat, I need money."

"Um, you know, June, now that I think about it, I was just wondering."

"What Larry? What depraved question must you ask me?"

"Well, I just thought I'd mention it, like daughter like mother, and all that genetically encoded stuff, but do you think your mother would be interested in the entertainment business. I have a couple clients who are older and want—"

"In the entertainment business? My mother prostituting herself for you? Fuck you, Larry. Fuck you."

"Okay, okay, don't blow a fuse. You can't blame a guy for trying."

Thinking about the monetary rewards of offering sex for money, there was a long silence, before June spoke again.

"So, you never told me. How much did that hooker make for doing those guys for a week?"

"Ten grand. Yeah, that's what I'm talking about, ten thousand bucks, ten yards."

"No shit."

"That's what Sal told me but, then again, Sal tends to exaggerate, as to how much he makes and how much he doesn't make depending on who he's talking to, you know. If he's bragging to me, he's making a bundle. If he's talking to his ex-wives or an agent at the IRS, then he's destitute. Anyway, he said that these guys coughed up two grand each for the pleasure of having sex with this woman any time they wanted."

"That's fucked, Larry. I never knew about all this stuff. Now, I wonder if my husband was every with a prostitute."

"It's easy work, June. It's easy work to go for a cruise on a nice boat, while relaxing and working on your tan. All you have to do is to have sex with five men."

"A gangbang, Larry? I'm hardly broken in to do this type of work and you already want me to pull a train?"

"Well, I don't know if theyre into gangbangs and circle jerks, maybe they are, but most guys want one on one. Most guys like that want their privacy. The way that I figure, June, is that one goes below deck, while the others are up above. The way that I imagined it was them taking their turns with you, one at a time. Now, if they want someone for a gangbang, that's extra," said Larry with a chuckle.

"I don't see how that's easy work, Larry, servicing five men for a week. Yet, two grand each, huh, for any time they wanted sex? Maybe that's a lot of money for you, but it doesn't sound like it's enough money to do 5 dudes for a week."

"Ten grand is more money that I'd make in a--"

"I'd want twenty, Larry. Yeah, I'd want them to pay me twenty thousand to put out for five men over a week."

"Twenty? See, that's what I like about you, June."

"What's that?"

You're my Catherine Deneuve and my Angelina Jolie of hookers."

"I'm not a hooker or a prostitute, Larry. I'm a call girl. There's a big difference between the three," said June.

"Got it," said Larry. "That's the thing about you, June. You have the class that guys want and that men will pay extra to get.

"Instead of talking, Larry. I need to get ready. I'll see you soon."

June jumped in the shower, washed her hair, shaved her legs, and shaved the hair from around her vagina. She dug through her closet to find a short skirt that resembled the parochial school uniform she used to wear in high school. She found a tartan skirt, one that she just needed to raise the hem from just above the knee to mid-thigh.

She took extra care to go heavy on the makeup without making her face look too much like a Halloween mask. Once she finished applying lots of blue eye shadow and a heavy coat of bright, red lipstick, she more looked like a movie star or, at least, a Broadway stage performer.

"If Mr. X wants lipstick on his dipstick, then he shall have a red ring the length and circumference of his penis," she said with a laugh, while looking at herself in the mirror.

She found a tight white button blouse. The cut, fit, and design of the blouse highlighted her bust more than her other blouses and when worn with the top few buttons unbuttoned together with a pushup bra, the combination made her tits look bigger and fuller and her line of cleavage deeper. Not that she had small tits or needed any help with a pushup bra to make her tits look bigger, she had a full C cup. She chose a white thong that made her ass cheeks look deliciously edible and that barely covered her freshly shaved pussy. Had she not shaved her pussy, she'd have pubic hair sticking out of both sides of her underwear.

Deciding to abandon the pushup bra because it was too tight, she found her front snapping bra, the one that she wore with her bride maid's gown, when her best friend Becky got married. The front snapper gave her cleavage like those women in 18th century England who wore corsets. She figured that a front snapping bra that didn't have straps was so much more convenient than wearing one that she had to remove her blouse and bra to reveal her tits. This way with two snaps, they were out and ready to play and with two snaps she was dressed.

She combed back her hair, parted it, and tied the back ends of it with hair ties in two ponytails. Between her outfit, makeup, and ponytails, she looked ten years younger. All she needed was some bubblegum, which she borrowed a pack of Bazooka bubblegum from her daughter's dresser drawer.

The last thing she put on were her red, high heel shoes, the ones with the 3" heels and the ones that made her calves look great. At 6' tall with her heels, she felt so tall. With high heels, short skirt with thong underneath, shaved pussy, unbuttoned blouse, and front snapping bra, she felt so sexy. Instead of on her way to have paid sex with someone calling himself Mr. X, she felt as if she was going to a masquerade ball. Although she felt a bit ridiculous wearing these clothes and making up herself like this, she enjoyed the role playing. Had she not married and had children, wanting to be an actress, she had the looks and the intelligence to be a big movie star. Turning side to side, she looked at herself in the mirror. In her bias opinion, she thought she looked good. In reality, she looked like a cheap whore.

Even after having three children, her legs were still shapely and her body still sexy. Her flared skirt was so short that she showed a lot of thigh, nearly all the way up to her ass cheeks with her every movement, especially when climbing stairs. Her tits looked incredible, big and high up. Any man would pay big bucks to fuck and suck her tits. It was then that she realized the extent of special, sexual requests. This part of it, when clients ask for special requests, was more than just having sex. This was fun. She almost felt like an actress acting a role in a movie, albeit a porn movie, than she did a call girl.

It was such a small town that she didn't want to take a cab to Larry's house for fear that the cab driver, once chatting over a cup of Joe with the regulars at the local coffee shop, would gossip about her. Telling everyone what she was wearing and where he took her, they all knew that Larry was the town pimp. Not the big city where everyone is too busy with their business to mind your business, this was small town USA after all. Even though what she did and with whom she did it with was none of anyone's damn business, but her own, it became everyone's business, when residents passed their time sitting out on their front porches gossiping. Yet, afraid to run into someone she knew and unable to take a bus wearing this abbreviated, erotic outfit for the same reason as not being able to take a cab, she called Larry.

"Hi Larry."

"June! Where are you? Mr. X is on his way. He'll be here any minute."

"Mr. X? You make him sound so mysterious like he's a spy or a science fiction character."

To be continued...