Sandra

I dress well. My suits and tuxes are tailored by a tailor that the family has used for many years and I look damn good in them. For the opening of the Old Dutch Masters, I wore the black. I found her at the Detroit Institute of Arts, the DIA. Right where she was supposed to be.

She was dressed in a new evening gown. The color matched her eyes, pale green. She was in charge of insuring that all food and drinks were replaced as needed, She also had to chat with patrons. I was a patron since Dad was giving $20,000 a year to the place. I had been giving $10,000 since I was 21 . And even better, I did it because I liked the DIA.

When she walked toward me that very first time, all ideas of business and family vanished. She was lovely. My heart skipped a few beats. Suddenly, without any warning, I was in love. I wanted her then to be my wife, the mother of all my children. I wanted to rip that flowing dress from her and make love to her in front of all those Old Dutch Masters. My cock was as hard as a stone. I had never had this happen before. I was a player, I was a fuck them and leave them guy. I was in fucking love. God, I was on top of the world.

We spoke - well, she spoke, I stammered. I told her I had joined the bank. It was a teller position because Dad and I agreed I should work my way up from the floor. She said something and I was staring at her mouth. It was so special. I wanted to kiss her, hold her and let her suck my cock. Damn, I was hooked.

We did the play and we did dinner afterward. I took her home (I did not make a move to kiss her) and asked for another date. When she said yes, my heart sang. I dropped by a convenient friend's house and found Sandra had made other changes in my life. It took forever for Christy to get me hard enough to fuck her. Christy was a long time fuck buddy and skiing partner. We have a lot of fun on trips to Aspen for a couple of winters. I had been hiding a first class erection all night but not for Christy. I was able to relive some tensions but it was totally unsatisfactory. Christy laughed at me and told me that I was in love and only one pussy would be able to take care of me from now on. She was a wonderful woman and when I left she was laughing her fool head off. I do not understand women.

I was hung out to dry. I could kiss Sandra but touching her breasts was a no-no. I mean, she was slowly eroding my faith in my own manhood. We had been dating for over six months and I was still on first base. Kisses and few feels. This was not how it was supposed to be. I needed help in breaking through with her.

Sandra was overly sensitive about comments and actions of a sexual nature. I was being as easy as I could when the fact of this sensitivity was brought out at a picnic. It was on a friend's estate. it was still cold outside, it was March. There was a large indoor heated pool and all of the women were in tiny bikinis or thongs (a couple were nude) when a banking client and an old friend said something very gross.

"James, why is your girlfriend wearing that out of date swim suit? She would look so much better in a thong or better yet nude. Those breasts and that body would look great nude."

Sandra went totally pale. "I am quite happy not attracting that much attention from animals like you. I would much rather be with a gentlemen like James who knows how to treat a lady."

"Sure, Miss Priss, when's the last time he bent that little ass of yours over a chair and fucked your brains out?"

"Bill, enough, stop this at once and you will apologize to Sandra. Then I think you should leave the party. Come, I will walk with you to your car." My voice told him and Sandra that he had gone way, way, way over the line.

Bill actually looked penitent, "Sandra, I am sorry. I think I have had too much to drink. Please forgive me. Carrie, we have to go. I have embarrassed myself." He and his wife (whom I had fucked several times in college) rounded up their belongings and I walked them to the parking area.

"Thanks, Bill. I will arrange that loan for 1% less in interest. Now I know more about Sandra."

Carrie looked at me. "Keep me in mind when the pressure gets too great, James, I will always help you out."

I was quickly back with Sandra and the heated pool. That night was the first time I was able to touch her breasts.

Once I got my hand in that white cast iron bra, Sandra was shocked, but I laughed at her. Hell, I was as shocked as she was.

"What will you do when we are married?" I was grinning at her. Finally, second base.

"Are you asking me to marry you?"

"No, but I will as soon as I know the answer is yes."

"What if the answer is no?"

"Then I will not ask you. I will warn you that our families have already got the wedding list prepared. But do not worry they need a full year to pull ir off."

"They may be expecting things that may not occur. I am not sure I want to marry."

I just laughed again and slid my hand back into that bra. My dick was screaming for release. Her nipples were as hard as my cock.

When she finally asked me to leave, I rushed to Bill and Carrie's and was able to let her take some of the pressure off. It was like turning a fire hose loose in her belly. The condom was straining to hold everything. We were both screaming so loud Bill came into the room to see if we were killing each other.

On the next date I had her bra off and soon I started the long journey up her legs. Heading for third base.

In that period of time Amos had been very busy. There was a group of paintings due in to the DIA from the Louvre in Paris. Cool, I liked that Old Flemish Masters stuff. I had seen most of them in Paris when I was not fucking skinny Parisian women. But this one had an added attraction. Sandra would have a guest at her house for six months, not that that mattered a whole lot. I wasn't sleeping there anyway. Hell, I was still just able to touch her damn thigh. I did make a discovery. If I was tired and half drunk, I could pretend that the woman I was fucking was Sandra. That helped a great deal. The women did object to me calling them by Sandra's name.

I am not a curious man, most of the time. But with another woman in Sandra's house, I was worried about the gay bit. I called Amos.

"Hey, Amos, James the Younger here. Tell me about the French visitor."

"You heard about the French visitor? She is a leader of the first order and she loves to fuck married men. She has a lover in Paris and will be married in 2 years more or less. Her name is Nicole. She will get Sandra to open her legs for you."

"What about the woman-woman thing?"

"Does that matter anywhere in our plans?"

I took several long breaths, "Amos, I love that woman. Business and family can take a leap at the moon. I want her so bad I cannot be comfortable with the women I know."

Now it was Amos' turn to breathe. "James, I am sure that Sandra is pretty much a lesbian. It will very hard for you and her to have a normal life. We all want the same thing but Nicole swings both ways. She will have Sandra in a bed within six hours after she gets into town."

"Thanks for telling me, Amos."

"James, you should listen to what happens. I am sure it will help you with Sandra. Dial my office number and extension 4324."

Like the fool I am, I did dial in. They were already in the tub. I could hear splashes and moans. Then they got into the bed. Then it turned very bad for me. I hung up the phone and told my Commercial Loans section chief that I would be gone for a while.

*****

I was awake, I hurt, I was alive somewhere. It took a time but I was slowly more awake. I was in a bed with the ugliest woman I ever saw. She looked at me.

"Welcome back, Dearie. How do we feel? What is her name?"

I was having trouble getting air in my lungs. I moaned and she pointed at a door. I rushed into the bathroom and spent the next three hours with the pukes and heaves. She kept pouring ice water into me and I kept throwing it back out. It did make the dry heaves a bit better. Not much but a bit.

Eventually, I was back on her bed. Unable to do anything but cry. She was beside me, cuddling my head into her enormous breasts that hung down to her belly button.

"Cry, baby. It ain't never going to be real good. Maybe she will come around, maybe not.

I ain't no seer of the future but your future is going to be all fucked up if you ain't real careful."

The tears eased a bit, "Who are you?"

She grinned. There were several teeth missing. "I am the one who got you whiskey. I was the one who watered it down so you did not kill yourself. I am the one who held you while you cursed every god I ever heard of and some I ain't never heard of. I am an old whore and I was in a bar trying to sell some pussy so I could eat. You came in. I was able to get you out of there before one of the bad boys beat you to a pulp."

Old Whore? Did I...?

The grin showed the missing teeth again. "Lover, you did not fuck me. You could not have fucked anything or anyone. Oh, you tried, you tried real hard. But hard you could not get. I did suck you off a few times. I like sucking cocks that do not get hard. No one jamming the thing down my throat."

"Where is my car? Where am I?"

"Outside in the lot, I drove it and you back here. Here is Monroe, Michigan. I-75 is a mile from here. Think you can eat?"

"I can try."

"Good, I do a mean breakfast. Just stay where you are and I will be back." She walked out. If the front was ugly, the back was a total disaster. But she was somehow, someway, comforting.

I thought and reached for my pants, the wallet was gone.

She looked around the door frame and laughed, "In the drawer beside the bed. It's all there, except what I needed for booze and food."

I actually blushed.

She did make a great breakfast. I needed help getting to the table, I was so weak I could just barely stand. Scrambled eggs, a heavy slice of ham, biscuits, jelly, and coffee. There were seconds and thirds.

"What day is this?"

"Monday, the 28th of May."

I looked at her, "I have been out for a..." I counted fast. " 13 days?"

She smiled at me again, "Yep, Dearie, you would have died if I had not watered down the whiskey. You were going through two to three fifths a day. I've seem some drunks but Lordie you were on a real tear. What is her name?"

"Sandra."

"You must have caught her fucking a man or maybe five or six men the way you were pouring it down."

"I love her. She is a lesbian. She was being fucked by a woman. There was nothing I could do." My eye looked around the neat little kitchen. "Where is ....?"

"Oh, no, Dearie, no more drink for you. I don't do Mother Theresa that good and this ain't the fucking Salvation Army. You are sober, fucking stay that way. You will do what you have to do but you best be doing it sober."

"What is your name? I cannot call you Old Whore."

"Why not? It is accurate. Been whoring ever since I found out what a pussy was for. But I guess you can call me Lucy. I damn sure ain't as tight as I was when I turned my first trick."

"You want a job?"

"Sure, but all I know how to do is fuck. And ain't nobody paying me more than four or five dollars a turn these days. Come to think about it five dollars is what I got for my cherry."

"Take care of me. I am going to need a lot of help in the years to come."

"You serious?" There just plain wonder in her bleary eyes.

"Yes."

"Why me? I am just what I am, an Old Whore."

"I need someone to hold my head while I cry."

"I can come and go? Quit when I want?"

"Yes."

"Dearie, you just got yourself a wet nurse."

So it was that I found a rock, someone to make me laugh when I needed to laugh, someone to hold me when I cried. Her official title was housekeeper and she did that too.

I had lost over 30 pounds in those 13 lost days. I knew that I was alive only because of an old whore.

I was Dearie, she was Lucy. She went on the payroll of my father's house but she lived with me in the carriage house. Her bedroom was the back bedroom. The health insurance started in 90 days. She used the exercise room in the big house. She lost weight. A dentist worked on her teeth. She had some surgery done, her breasts were reduced and with the weight loss and the exercise, she had made some real changes. She learned that there was a hairdresser, a beautician, and a trainer available for the women and the employees of the families. In a year she was still my Lucy but she was no longer ugly. My Old Whore had turned into an attractive woman

She also had a credit card for the first time in her life. She bought nice clothes. Some of my older friends noticed her. She dated now and then. But she was always there for me when I needed a shoulder. I did not use the powers to find out about her. She was Lucy and I needed to know nothing more. I just wanted a shoulder to cry on. And I cried a lot.

Sandra and Nicole's rooms were bugged. I got weekly updates so I knew when Nicole talked her into fucking me. I knew to let her lead the way. First time, wait five days, second time wait four days. I had read the script and the play went as planned. I was to play third fiddle behind Nicole and Sandra in the lead.

The wedding came as planned. Nicole returned from Paris for the wedding. I had film of them from the night before the wedding, which I never watched. The honeymoon was in the South Pacific. I wanted so much to show her that sex with me was better than sex with Nicole. Maybe that was a mistake on my part. For the three weeks we were gone, I was on her four to five times a day. I remembered the first day's tape. I was never able to make her cum like Nicole. could. I think I was able to get her to come every now and then. It was hell.

I guess it was hell for both of us.

While the contractors were building our house, we lived in the carriage house. With Lucy. Sandra objected.

"Why is she still here?"

"She is my housekeeper."

"She should be part time. This place doesn't need a full time housekeeper. She can come in three days a week. I have no privacy."

"Then she will be my valet. Get used to it." I already knew that she would never be totally happy with me. Lucy was the one that was holding me together.

We were married for exactly six weeks when the news came.

"I am pregnant."

I looked at her and grinned like a banshee. "Great. I will tell the contractor to move on the new house. We will need every bedroom I have planned. I would like at least six or seven children."

She did not seem happy with that.

That was the start of the headaches, the backaches, the cramps in her legs, and finally the depression she had. That was the end of our sex life. She was in Paris that spring fucking Nicole before that wedding. I was not invited. There was a nurse and a maid with her, in case anything happened. When she returned after the two weeks of getting it on with her lover, I got the bad news.

"I will not sleep with you again. This baby will be our only child. If it is a girl it is Victoria, a boy Victor."

"What? You will not...?" I saw my life being blown away. Gone With The Wind.

"No, my dear husband. You will not stick that gross thing inside of me again." She turned and walked away.

I was picking up a bottle when the hand closed over mine.

"Dearie, just what the fucking hell are you going to do?"

"I am going to get drunk."

"The fuck you are. She is your wife. You are too nice to force her. So, as you told her about me, 'Get over it' and get on with your life."

I did get on with my life. I was married to a lesbian. I could not admit to anyone including myself that I was so little of a man. I loved her. I hurt when I looked at her. Somehow I began to think that if I could wait her out, be as nice as I could that somehow she would change. Maybe I was just too scared of what people would say about me and her if I divorced her. Maybe it would have been a lot easier if she was not the only woman who made my cock get so hard so fast. It was just that I was hurt so damn bad.

As it is said, life goes on. The GLS&T Bank got bigger with buyouts and mergers. Dad died of a heart attack in that back room on that whorehouse we owned. No, he was not fucking, he was playing poker. Dad never fucked his employees, that was bad for business. Amos was hit by lightning on the 17th hole of the golf course. It is said that even God cannot hit a one iron, well he did that day. Caroline went to Florida and found several playmates, including one who was a professional fishing guide. I know he is a great guide, I have used him when I was down there. She seems happy.

Sandra made two trips to Paris every even numbered years, one in the summer for six weeks and one in the winter for six weeks. Nicole visited the USA in the same pattern during the odd numbered years. I had more film of them than I wanted. I knew I could never watch them but they were stored in my safe in our house.

I did ask Sandra about artificial insemination. She said she would think about it. I never got an answer. I considered drugged her or getting her drunk. But even if she got pregnant, it was a one shot deal, and how many women get pregnant on a one shot? Never happens when you want it too. I slowly gave up on the idea of more children.

Life with Sandra was a show on the road and hell at home. She was now very high up in the operations of the DIA. Money helps, you know. We were supporting an entire exhibit showing once a year, every year a different exhibit. We were at every social event she could schedule. Lucy and my secretary at work kept a calendar for me and reminded me when and where I had to be. They also made sure my clothes fit the occasion. I had a lot of short speeches shoved into my hands as I rode to yet another social event.

Sandra and I smiled and held hands and now and then she even kissed me, lightly on the cheek, rarely on the lips. And after every road show Lucy was there to stop me from drinking. Lucy kept me straight. She pulled my ass away from that bottle so many times.

Lucy also suggested that I talk to Jacques, Nicole's husband. It proved to be a very interesting talk and the beginning of a long friendship. New plans were being laid.

I arranged for Victoria's summers and winters to fill up and she stopped going to Paris. I made sure she was with me and her friends in some every nice places. Aspen for the holidays for the skiing, the islands for schools breaks. She was in a youth group that I put together. We camped, ran rapids, fished, climbed mountains (small ones).

She looked so much like Sandra, I wondered if she was a clone. I loved her with all the love I could muster. I spoiled her rotten and I spent a lot of time with her. As Clark Gable said in that old movie, "I could love my wife, so I gave it all to my daughter."

Since Sandra could not (would not?) talk to my daughter about life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness and sex, Lucy did. At age ten Sandra wanted to know things that a woman should tell her. Lucy told her. At 12 she wanted to have a full understanding of just what the boys meant by a 'blow job'. Lucy told her. At 14 she wanted to know what was wrong with her Mother. Lucy told her. She then worried that she would be like her mother. Lucy asked her three questions. The answers to all three were no. She would not be like her Mother.

Some of those talks between Vicky and Lucy happened in my study at home. The place where I rarely invited anyone. But Lucy could just walked in and sat down. Usually she would say something like "How's it hanging, Dearie." Then she would tell me what she could about my daughter's life that was hidden from me. I know she did not tell me everything, a budding young woman has to have some secrets. I did learn of the disaster of her first kiss. It was on one of the skiing trips. The boy (I never learned his name) stopped her on a ski run and kissed her. But the next skier down the run hit them and all three rolled half way down the slope. Vicky was 13. I will admit I laughed.