My Loving Family Ch. 06

I wouldn't mention it except that Willa found my "party" dresses while we were packing -- my wardrobe had expanded considerably since those early experiences with the firm clients (I'm tempted to make a bad pun by adding, 'I'll say they were firm!') I've already described -- so I explained my personal situation to her as tactfully as possible.

I wasn't sure what her reaction might be, but I didn't expect her to come right out and ask if it was fun and whether I thought she might fit into the program "in case a couple of clients wanted to double date."

Frankly, I didn't know what to say. That possibility had been raised twice before -- Mr. Bose had asked me if I could find another girl who would like to "party" and I had immediately thought of Dolly -- the pretty sales clerk who had helped me select my first "party" wardrobe.

As it happened, when I had approached Dolly, and explained the situation, she confessed what may be a fairly common fantasy -- that of being paid for "it". She was quite willing to earn an easy $500 doing what she enjoyed as long as her husband didn't find out -- I hadn't realized she was married, or I wouldn't have approached her -- but she turned out to be one of those people who can't handle liquor. She managed to get sloppy drunk.

She had come to my apartment directly from work (I have no idea how she explained her absence to her husband) with a "borrowed" dress from her shop. We had taken turns bathing and preparing ourselves for our "dates." The plan was that we would both return to my apartment so she could change back into her regular clothes before returning home.

If I had thought the first dress or two she had helped me select were immodest, then the selection she made for herself was downright scandalous. The pale pink dress itself was moderately daring when worn properly, but the smooth silken sheath she had chosen was not intended to be worn over a body of her dimensions that was entirely nude.

The top of the dress was loose enough so that her every movement, every motion, caused her hard nipples to dance enticingly across the front of her dress, emphasizing the sway of her heavy breasts. At the waist, however, the material was gathered so tightly that the garment might as well have been painted over her bottom and lower abdomen, including her thighs and prominent mons. In fact, her mons seemed to thrust forward to aggressively that I wondered if she had somehow managed to pad it!

Our dates had arrived on time. As usual, we enjoyed a delightful dinner (although I privately wondered how she could possibly consume anything without tearing a seam in her dress), but she and Doug, her date for the evening, seemed to enjoy playing with each other as much as they enjoyed the food.

I noticed, however, that every time Dolly's wine glass was replenished, her laughter seemed a bit more boisterous, and her hands seemed even busier under the table in Doug's lap.

Just before we left the restaurant, she and I had excused ourselves to go to the ladies' for our final adjustments. I watched her in the mirror as I was refreshing my lipstick while she reached up under her dress and extracted a wisp of lace which she wadded in her hand.

Then when we returned to the table where the men were waiting for us, she walked up to Doug and held her clenched hand up to his nose. "Smell this. See the effect you have on me? Give me your hand." He extended his open hand and she gave him her wet panties. We went straight back to their hotel. As Jack had done with me years earlier, Doug began to lower the zipper holding her dress closed while she brazenly fondled the lump in his trousers, even though we were not alone in the elevator.

As soon as the elevator door closed behind us, Doug lowered the zipper all the way, and suddenly Dolly was naked in the hall. While I stooped to retrieve her dress, she fell to her knees in front of Doug almost instantly and began unzipping his trousers.

Doug was as embarrassed were Robert and I. He quickly pulled her to her feet. "Not here!" he said sharply.

"I was jes gettin' started." she slurred. "Wouldn't it be fun to fuck here in the hall? I'd like that! Let's do it!"

Doug impatiently took one arm while I took the other, and we half dragged, half carried Dolly to our room. After that little display in the hall, everything that followed seemed almost anticlimactic.

Robert and I enjoyed a quiet hour together in the bedroom while Doug and Dolly noisily and energetically screwed each other on the floor, bent over the furniture, and in other ways I could only imagine, but all was quiet when we returned to the living room.

The problem was that the mini bar was all too available. The door to the little refrigerator was open, but Dolly was out cold, lying on the couch, legs spread, with their combined juices flowing out of her vagina, staining the furniture. Doug was watching her. "What do we do now?"

It would have been all but impossible to try to dress her in the clothes she had worn, and even if we had been successful, it was too much of a stretch to imagine dragging her through the lobby, so we decided to let her sleep it off where she was. I don't know what she may have told her husband later, but I'll bet it was ingenious. When I reported to Mr. Bose what had happened, he seemed to agree that the risk of getting others involved in what was, after all, merely an expression of company goodwill toward a handful of important clients, was more than the company wanted to assume.

However, when I now reported to Mr. Bose that Mr. Ender's widow was interested in joining me as another company "entertainer," he nodded thoughtfully said he'd think about it.

Evidently, he didn't think very long because scarcely a week had gone by before I received a familiar buz from his office. It was a bit dicey because I was interviewing a young man seeking an accountant's position we had advertised. I told him I had to interrupt the interview for a few minutes and asked him to wait in the outer office. As soon as the door closed behind him, I quickly changed out of my office dress into the much more revealing tart dress I kept in the coat closet, made sure my seams were straight and added a bit more lipstick before seizing the file folder I used, and hurried past our surprised accountant candidate down the hall to Mr. Bose's office where I performed the same charade before a couple of new clients that I had done dozens of times earlier to cause them to begin salivating. One of those clients, Peter J. Crockett, was to become my husband.

(To be continued)