It was four o'clock Monday afternoon when Melissa arrived home.
She would have to start dinner first, she decided. She would have to fix Martin something especially good. She could fix pot roast. Martin loved post roast.
She had just started cooking the roast when thephone rang. It was Anderson.
"I'm flabbergasted, Melissa!" he sang into her ear. "We have an order for the entire summer line and Maginis is so pleased they are licking my hand. How did you do it?"
"An order for the whole line? Me?"
"You did it, baby. You sold one of the best orders of the year. Queen put in an order for five dozen of everything. He especially wants the outfit you wore today. Boots, hose, halter-the whole bit. You made a hit, baby."
Melissa was astounded. She hadn't expected anything like this.
"I don't know what to say.
"Then don't say anything. Just keep up the good work."
"I'll try."
"Oh," Anderson said. "Be sure to see me in the morning. Queen left a nice tip for you. Five hundred dollars. You really got through to him, Melissa."
Melissa was amazed by the information. Roger Queed had left a tip of five hundred dollars. She had been given five hundred dollars for permitting Roger Queen to fuck her. He had paid for her cunt in the form of cash and an order for dresses. That made her a prostitute, or, to use the more fashionable name, an expensive call girl.
She could see Martin was in a petulant mood when he arrived home. He stalked in from the garage, dropped his briefcase on the small table in the entry hall and stormed into his den without saying hello. In a few minutes, he entered the living room, picked up the evening paper and turned it to the sports page.
"Is there something wrong, dear?"
He looked at her from the top of the paper. "Not really."
"You didn't kiss me when you came in."
He grunted and shifted the paper so he could read better. "Sorry, honey, I was thinking." "You didn't even say hello."I was thinking about the office." "Is it something bad?"
"No, not that kind of bad. It's just that I won't get the senior partnership. Nagel plans on giving it to one of the fellows down in planning."
"You won't get the promotion? After you joined the country club?"
He shrugged, but she could see he was still disappointed.
"It didn't help. I guess they figure I'm not good enough."
"But you said."
"Never mind what I said," he told her curtly. "Old man Nagel decided on Michaels because his wife makes cock-hungry eyes at him."
"That can't be true."
Martin grunted, showing his disgust. "It's true all right. At that last meeting, Michaels brought her along. She and Nagel sat over in a dark corner for two hours and I know he was fingering her cunt."
He slapped the paper down on the floor beside his chair. "That's what gets promotions, Melissa; the boss finger-fucking your wife!"
"That's not true!"
Martin was getting mad. "It's office politics, Lissa. A man's wife has to butter up to the boss or you can't get anywhere in this business. I wish there was some way you could help me.
"I do help you, Martin," Melissa blurted. "I paid for your country-club membership."
"I mean things that count," he muttered. "Like getting this promotion. I was depending on the money to pay the guys at the club."
That was it. Melissa stomped her foot.
"Would it please you more if I permitted Mr. Nagel to finger-fuck me?" she demanded.
"Melissa!"
"Well, that's what you said, Martin! Would you?"
"Of course not!"
Martin buried himself back in his paper and Melissa went to take care of her roast. She thought about the promotion and Mr. Nagel. After dinner, she took two one-hundred-dollar bills from her purse and gave them to Martin.
"It's a bonus for helping sell a large order," she explained. "My wages and the bonus came to just two hundred. You can pay that gambling debt with it, Martin."
Martin stared at the money, caressed the two bills. "It's fantastic," he told her. "That modeling thing of yours is worth while after all."
"It has a lot of possibilities," Melissa said sweetly.
After dinner Martin settled down to watch a ball game and Melissa went back to thinking about the message she had received from Mark Anderson.
The game ended at ten-thirty. Martin had consumed two cans of beer, three straight shots of bourbon and was cussing the outcome. He was in an apparent nasty mood and complaining.
"Some people have all the goddamn luck! Why the hell can't Nagel give me that job like he's supposed to? We could have a ball on twenty-five hundred a month!"
"We're doing fine," Melissa stated reproachfully. "Don't be so greedy."
Martin continued to grumble. "I should have had that job. What I get now is peanuts."
Melissa smiled. "I could let Mr. Nagel finger-fuck me," she said with a sly grin. "Then maybe he will change his mind."
He gave her a sharp glance. "I wish you would," he retorted. Then he got up and shuffled off to bed.
Melissa followed, a little reluctant, knowing what Martin was like when he was in such a mood. He wouldn't actually care, she decided as she went about preparing for bed. He even sounded as if he would be pleased if she became intimate with his employer. What if Nagel was to go beyond the fingering stage? What would he say if she let Nagel fuck her? Would he care then?
She removed her makeup and washed her face. She could hear Martin in the bedroom removing his shoes.
She opened the door and turned out the bathroom light. Martin was sifting on the edge of the bed, waiting. He had turned on the bedside love lamp and he was naked.
She removed her own clothing, placing the garments on a chair, intending to take care of them in the morning. Martin was always in a hurry when he wanted to fuck.
"Hurry up, Lissa," he muttered impatiently. "My cock is throbbing."
She paused at the bedside, debating what position she should assume. "Where do you want me, honey?"
"On the bed, of course. I want to stick my cock in your pussy.
"Don't be so vulgar. I'm right here and I know what you want."
"'Course you do," he muttered. "I want my cock in your cunt."
Melissa frowned again.
"That's part of the enjoyment, Lissa. Saying fuck and cunt helps turn a man on. You should know that."
"I'm learning," Melissa said. She moved over on the sheet and lay back, resting her head on the pillows.
"Pull your legs up. I want to finger your cunt a bit first."
She drew her legs up, opened them so he could get down to her pussy. She could feel his fingers scratching in the hair, then one finger probed the lips of her pussy.
"It's still there, Martin," she reproached him. "The same as it was last night. It hasn't changed."
He didn't say a word. His finger worked in around the clitoris and it didn't do a thing to her. She closed her eyes and said fuck to herself Then she said it again. She didn't feel a bit turned on.
She could sense him beside her, leaning over, looking into her face. He wanted something more.
"Do you want to play with my cock, Lissa?"
She reached blindly for his prick. He was too far down.
"I can't reach it."
He turned his body, moved closer to her.
His cock was hard, she reflected, but not as puffy as usual. She couldn't. remember it feeling so big before and she squeezed it, noting how it fit in her hand. His cock felt so stiff that she found herself thinking it might satisfy her more than usual.
"Suck it, Lissa."
She didn't want to suck his prick. She wasn't in the mood and said so.
"You act like you've been fucked out," Martin grumbled.
That irritated her even more. Then she realized he was right. She was fucked out, she was fired. Roger had given her such a thorough fucking that she didn't want any more cock. At least not tonight.
But she knew she would have to comply.
She raised her ass until he had thrust his cock deep into her cunt, then she sank back with a sigh. It was only a coupling of convenience, she told herself. His cock was in her cunt and he was pumping up and down, arguing, complaining, telling her to move her ass around so he could get some feeling. She raised her ass a few times, then gave up. She was that tired.
His fucking was wearing her down and she had no feeling. It was so inhuman to climb on and start fucking. She had seen dogs in the process of fucking and it struck her that was the way Martin was doing it now. Just fucking.
You should fuck me in the ass doggy fashion, Martin. That really would be funny. You look like a dog fucking me, jacking your ass up and down, jabbing your cock into my cunt just because it there.
"Do you ha b to be so dead? Wiggle your ass a little."
She wiggled her ass.
"Can't you say something?"
Melissa clenched her fists against the sheet. "Aren't you about through?"
"No, damn it, I'm not through!" Martin sputtered. "I wish you would learn how to fuck."
"I will, Martin," she said in a weary voice. "I certainly will."
She didn't work Tuesday and Martin called her from his office explaining he wanted her to go out to the club with him.
"I'd like you to meet some of the fellows," he said on the phone. "Put on something that will make them drool a little."Melissa knew Martin loved showing her off. "I'll wear something nice," she agreed.
"Not nice," he corrected. "Sexy. Something that shows a lot of ass."
"I could come naked," she retorted, then hung up.
She picked one of her shortest skirts. A smooth beige with a short ruffle that flopped up and down when she walked. That, with bikini briefs, should show enough ass to please even a professional wolf. A tight-fitting green sweater completed the outfit and, viewing herself in the mirror, she smiled slyly, noting that she looked every bit the little bitch she intended to be.
Martin suggested a drink before having lunch. He chose to sit at the bar, watching people come and go.
Melissa perched quietly on her stool, aimlessly viewing the people at the bar. Her skirt had worked back up her thigh, leaving an expanse of leg visible.
She noticed Martin's sudden interest as three men entered from the dining room. He slid from his stool. "That's them," he said, nodding at the trio. "Remember, just be nice to them."
Melissa followed as he went over to the table. Be nice to them. How could she be nice to them in a bar? Bar tables are noted for being cramped, even in private country dubs.
Then Martin was talking to them, explaining something she couldn't hear, they moved over, asking her to please be seated and viewing her costume with lust-filled eyes.
She didn't like these men, Melissa decided. The way they peered at her, their leering grins, made her feel cheap and she was beginning to wish she had worn something a little more refined.
"Sandino will be along in a few minutes," one of the men said. "I'm Mike Christy, Sandino's accountant. I assume you brought the money."
Martin produced the bills, gave them to him. Christy thrust them into his pocket. Then he ordered drinks for the table.
What followed, Melissa considered shop talk. Golf scores, green fees. She had heard it all before. It was all so boring. She took larger swallows of her drink.
"You should join us more often," Christy told Martin. "We're working up a tournament and need a few potential pros, like you."
Martin was overcome by the flattery. "A good-looking wife can help too," Christy added. He grinned happily at Melissa.
Melissa gave him only a caustic glance, then turned her attention back to her drink. She wasn't prepared for the arrival of Chester Sandino.
Sandino came in through a side entrance, glanced about, sighted the group at the table, then came over.
"There's Sandino," Christy informed Martin. He nodded a vigorous welcome to the newcomer.
"Nice afternoon for a game," Sandino said as he extended his hand to Christy. "I assume this is your new friend." He offered his hand to Martin, then peered at Melissa.
"Well, how nice," he stated in a warm voice. "This is a real surprise."
Melissa was confused by the sudden confrontation, the appearance of a familiar face. It hadn't occurred to her that any of the men she had fucked might belong to the club.
She peered into his face, feeling embarrassed. She forced a smile, then accepted his greeting.
"This is a pleasure," she said in a forced casualness. "It is nice to see you again."
Christy appeared relieved. "You two already know each other?"
"I've had the pleasure," Sandino said. "A very nice pleasure."
He pulled up an extra chair, forced it between Melissa and his friends, then ordered drinks. He brushed aside the subject of golf.
"Forget the golf," he told Christy. "Beauty is to be enjoyed, not submerged under shop talk."
Melissa could feel his hand on her leg under the table. He was complimenting her, his voice droning on, staling what a nice model she was, how well she could wear clothing and how much it would be a pleasure to have her serve him again.
"I'd like you to show me something again," he said, turning to her. "Like maybe tonight. Could you make it?"
She wanted to say no, but Martin was so enthusiastic in being included in the circle of friends that he was becoming very benevolent.
"Anytime," he stated happily. "Lissa likes to model. Call her any time."
"I'll do that."
Melissa could feel Sandino's hand on her thigh, moving up, slowly pushing her skirt back. She wanted to say something, but realized she couldn't move. She couldn't let these men know what was happening. She was certain Sandino was taking advantage of the situation to catch a little feel under the table. His fingers were pushing at her panties, working up under the taut elastic at the legs.
Then his finger was pushing into the moist lips of her cunt and she wanted to blurt out how wonderful it felt, how nice it would be to have his cock thrust into her hot cunt again. She squirmed and his whisper, in her ear, only added fuel to the fire.
"Say the word, baby, and we can have another fuck all our own."
She slouched down, pushing against his finger. It felt so good, just like being fucked. She hated for him to stop, but Christy was becoming suspicious. He was eyeing her very strangely.
"Stanton is becoming quite a gambler," he told Sandino. "The next game, perhaps v e should raise the limits."
Sandino removed his finger from Melissa's pussy, wiped his hand on her skirt.
"I'll agree to that," he said approvingly. "His credit is number one with me."
He pinched Melissa on the thigh and she knew he would be calling for another session real soon.