A Fucking Investment Ch 08

A Blonde and a Bit of Stuff

[Author's note: Sometimes you find something that was there initially and you have to go back and redo it. This is one such time. Samatha Uliss, aka Vicky Vice or Vise if you wish, had to be in this story so I went back and put her in. the next episode (#17) needs her, so she needs to appear here. Hope you like her if you read this episode before and missed her, she's worth adding. Thanks for reading and please, leave a little feedback. Thanks. -C]

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I was on the phone. A few days had passed since I had been the unfaithful husband; two days spent ears deep in business, talking to Sharon about the Company. The phone call, however, was from Kaiser Sose, my guy Crowely. He had started the move on Vidya Ketteridge, given her three days. He was also beginning to formally assess the market for directed companionship, offering a service to our associates who were in the market for such things. That was what he was telling me on the house phone when the doorbell rang. I stood in the kitchen, licking the icing off a donut. I am not a health nut but I work out. Chocolate is my vice, everything else comes second; drugs, booze. Sex however is a preoccupation, a virtue, a mode of self-expression, a lifelong artistic endeavor perpetuated by the pleasure it produces.

"I have to go, Charlie, the doorbell is ringing."

"Today is Monday. I gave her till Wednesday."

"I get it, Charlie. I have to move now. Thanks for the extra day."

"I know you have been busy, sir. In demand, as it were." Charlie said, dead pan. He never laughed.

"Are you getting yours?" The bell chimed again.

"Most assuredly. I only hire the best and they all know their duty, even the straight boys. I like being more radical than these young bucks." He rang off. Charlie swings both ways and with some force in both directions. We understood each other. Political correctness was code for "lie about everything" and in my Company, those who got into the inner circle were not politically correct, we told each other the truth.

I hung up the phone and stocked to the door, thinking about my options with Ms. Ketteridge. She was an enigma to me. I had never fucked an Indian woman. I had a picture of her with a sari and her back and stomach bare. Damn sexy. I opened the door.

Pictures are fine but living breathing females always tend to have a more basic, vital effect on me. Despite myself, I stared. I knew her name from our dossiers but I could not speak it for we had never met.

"Yes? Can I help you?" I said. Even to my ears, my voice sounded choked. The woman standing before me wore white but the outfit had nothing to do with the western idea of virginity or the eastern fear of death.

"Mr. Kale?" The woman said? "Josiah Kale?"

I shook my head. "Nope." I started to close the door. I had things to do, people to see, undress and fuck. Vidya was in my mind, on my radar. I loved what I was reading about the Indian beauty.

The stunning woman put out a hand and stopped the closing door.

"Wait." The cool demeanor shimmered, like a mirage then settled back into place. "My name is Jennifer Simpson." I knew her name, apparently so did she. "I am your neighbor. Well, I live several houses down. May I come in."

"Gale." I said. "Joshua. Joshua Gale. What can I do for you?" I did not move the door or invite her in. I had been focused on pictures of Vidya and having this half-dressed blond at my door confused my radar.

"May I come in?"

"If this is a social call, I am busy. Come by next week and I will offer you a nice chianti and some fava beans. "

Jennifer Simpson smiled, delighted. "Silence of the Lambs." She sobered. "Business. I have some business with you.""

"You do?" I was feeling downright rude. None of the women on my list could be treated with deference or they would turn me into the carpet man. The thought gave me an idea.

"Look, I am in the middle of something. But I can be a sport." I was going to need to have an entrée to this woman eventually so I did not want to de-charm her and have to work through a distinctly negative vibe when I got round to her. I am too lazy for that. "Who sang the song, Carpet Man in the 1970's?"

Before her time, I figured. Before mine for that matter but I had a mind for history, a respect for memory. I calculated that I could use that as the charming method of putting her off till later. She was beginning to look good, though.

"The Fifth Dimension." Jennifer Simpson said and then smiled.

I was surprised but I played by my own rules. I opened the door and walked away, leaving her standing. She followed me to the kitchen but left the door open.

"Nice house. But of course, I have been here before. I knew the previous owners."

"What do you want?" I sat down. I was still trying to put her gently off, though her outfit was beginning to have its intended affect. She wore white, yes, but only in part. The rest was missing. She had a top that just covered her sizable breasts, held up with broad straps with rings of material around the upper arms with trailing diaphanous white material, whatever that is called, that fell to her knees, trailing like mist along behind her when she walked. The skirt started below the waist and was little more than a belt, so short that if she stood on her tiptoes I was sure I could see her clit. I was sitting at the kitchen table. She wore white high heels which put the flex into her slim legs. I had not looked behind her so I did not know about her ass at that moment. Time would tell.

"Is that how you do business? Use a trivia question to qualify people? What is your business?"

"A lot of questions. You knocked at my door."

"You mentioned a nice Chianti."

"I did but it is ten in the morning. Do you normally drink wine for breakfast?"

"When I am dressed like this, I do." She smiled.

"Why are you dressed like that? Sit down. I have some tea."

"No coffee?"

"I have coffee but I do not drink it. I can make you some, though." I had bought another coffee maker to use for making hot water for myself, for tea. Coffee tended to cling and taint the taste if I used the same pot.

Jennifer Simpson glided over to the table and sat down around the corner from me, crossing her legs in front of her, displaying them like a product salesman. They were impressive! She watched me as I studied her bare, perfect legs.

I looked up at her. "Nice legs. What are you selling?"

"Tea is fine." She said with a tight smile.

I got the feeling that things were not going the way she had anticipated; nothing was going the way she had played it out in her head while she was dressing and putting the lipstick on her thin lips. They were her only flaw. Thin lips but perhaps that was just tension.

I sat for a couple beats and then got up and closed the front door, which constituted a decision. My cock began to harden because this woman was beautiful and best of all, she was right there in my kitchen. I returned and poured her a cup of hot water and put a bag of mint tea in it for

her. "Sugar?"

"Not offering me a selection?"

"No. Mint tea is what I am drinking. Is that good enough for you? It is best with a bit of sugar, I think. Accents the taste."

"Yes, please. Sugar." She said softly. Her eyes were looking at her hands, one laying on the other before her on the table. Her fingers were long, the nails extending them, painted white. Her outfit was complete.

I sat down the cup, took my seat, carefully avoiding her crossed legs. I sighed. "What can I do for you, Ms. Simpson, was it?"

Her eyes rose up to meet my steady gaze. Her lips were not so thin now, bemusement curved them; and interest. "I hear you lend money." She said finally.

"Oh?" I returned. The wheels were turning. I was more concerned about the failure of my initial assumption that among this knot of financial pretenders, such things as financial difficulties would be kept as closely guarded secrets, not shared like recipes over the back fence. I was considering the impact on my long term plans for the community while Jennifer talked.

"Times are bad, for us all. We are all struggling here. I know that, most of us are aware of it but all are reluctant to acknowledge it." Ms. Simpson stopped talking.

I regarded her with lidded eyes and waited, unresponsive.

"I know that John is away." She said after waiting for me to speak for a few moments. "I saw you leaving Eve's house Friday, too early in the morning to have been a social call. John is gone. The red Cadillac, that is yours I presume?"

I shrugged.

"It was there all night." She said matter of factly. "The taxi took Shallow away around seven. Before you left."

I shifted, drank, regained her gaze. "You have met Shallow?"

"Eve said she was coming."

Not an answer, I noticed. "Did she say why?"

"An old friend, visiting."

"She was there to fuck John. Likes to fuck her friend's husbands, or wives, I suppose. Shallow must have some male friends who like cock rather than pussy. What do you want?"

Jennifer hesitated. Her fingernails tapped on the table granite table top. Finally, she looked up. "Nothing. This was a mistake."

"Got too real for you? Why don't you tell me what you are here for and then we can discuss how it fits in with my schedule?"

"What were you doing in Eve's house? Did you sleep with Evie?"

"I thought you said you were here for business. Oh, you are a woman, such things as telling the truth when it matters to me does not constrain you, should not restrain you from getting what you want, right? What do you want?"

"You are so unfriendly!" She said, irate.

"It is my house and if I am not unfriendly, I may do something I will regret."

She smiled then. "Like what?"

"Accept the invitation that outfit provides."

"You like it? You find it inviting?" She actually batted her eyelashes at me. "Do I look better than Evie?"

The light went on. Dear Jennifer was jealous. She spied. She imitated. She wanted what 'Evie' had and I had been included on that last. She was a natural poacher, a predator who begrudged everyone else everything. Okay, not jealous; this was female competition. I would discover that she played second fiddle to everything Eve did but apparently, everyone did. Eve was less restrictive on her own sexuality than she led me to believe, but that all came out later. "You asked about lending?"

Jennifer nodded. "I understand that you have helped poor Liza out with her house payment." She stopped. She waited. She uncrossed and recrossed her long, beautiful legs. "She is not the only one who has a budget deficit."

"You mean besides the US Government?"

Jennifer nodded, grinning. Her breasts moved a bit, a very inviting motion and my schedule got tighter along with everything else. "My erstwhile husband is struggling. Oh, it is not his fault. I spent us into the ground and then mocked him out of his confidence because I was so angry at realizing that my credit cards no longer worked. WE have been dodging those awful people about the credit cards for six months, living only off the cash we could arrange. But that rope is nearly gone and we are gasping for breath." It all came out without so much as a single breath. Her eyes fixed on her tapping fingernails.

I nodded but she did not see.

"You spent the night at Eve's house. Liza paid her mortgage, without her pointless husband, or should I say ex-husband being much help. Liza loves to fuck." Jennifer Simpson stopped again. Now she met my eyes. "I can connect the dots. Cash is king and you must have cash. A lot of it. Unless you are in love with Evie, there was some sort of transaction going on Thursday night which kept you there long past curfew."

"What is curfew in this neighborhood?"

"Three, I think. Five if you are liberal." She smiled a tight smile. Her green eyes were tense, seeing more than my kitchen. Talking of the defaults occurring and pending around her together with her own troubles had sobered her. The assurance she sported walking into the kitchen with me was evaporated.

"After that the joggers will take note of who's zooming who? But that is not what you meant." I nodded. "Orgasms, you mean, not o'clock?"

Jennifer smiled and nodded. "Of course. Right."

I stood up. "Stand up." Jennifer uncrossed her legs, gave me her hands and I pulled her to her feet. Her arms went around my neck. "Like the music quiz, I have a curious lending policy."

Jennifer cocked her head. "That is?"

"There are several phases. Several considerations." She did not interrupt. Her long nails traced tingling lines on my back and neck. "The first consideration is the kiss. Can you kiss well enough to be lent money?"

"Kissing for money?" Jennifer asked with an arched eyebrow. Jennifer Simpson was gorgeous. She had straight blond hair and the classic blond features that distinguished her from other blonds. Hers were the ideal, not the cliché. She did not look at all like Marilyn. Her cheek bones were high, the nose the right length, the lips, fuller now, the teeth, perfect. No mole to keep the gods from destroying her; no, she was perfect.

"Kissing for attention, for consideration. It is the application process."

"And what does success look like to you?" She asked, cocking her head back and to the side as she wrapped a hand around my jaw, lifting it a bit.

For a moment, I considered my schedule. I needed to get to Vidya. I felt a bit hurried but my cock felt in a hurry too which meant something entirely different. My two heads disagreed about the details while being in complete agreement on the fundamentals. "Kiss me." I said. An idea had arrived and I liked it.

Jennifer leaned forward, extending her lips like she was about to suck the frost off the end of a popsicle. Her eyes closed and her lips touched mine. For a moment, she kissed me with expressive movements and nothing else. Her lips were soft, warm, wet and smooth, pulsing against mine. Her hand remained under my chin, not cupping it, flat against my jaw, pressing gently at me, lifting my chin to her kiss. Her heels made her a bit taller than I. Then her mouth opened and a shock went through my body. At that moment, she had passed the kiss test but I kept kissing her, she might need extra credit some time. Her tongue licked my lips, just the tip, a wet, soft point tracking between our lips, like she was licking her lips while I happened to be kissing her. Her tongue pierced my lips and entered my mouth, extending that pointed tip to the roof of my mouth which always makes me shiver. I pressed the tip of my tongue to the underside of hers which was exposed to me. Jennifer''s whole body shivered as I ran the tip of my tongue up and back down the length of her probing tongue which was pressed against the roof of my mouth.

I groaned as her body came closer to me and her breasts brushed my chest. My hands lay on her nearly bare hips. I pulled at them and she tiny-stepped closer till her body was pressed into mine like a hot dog in a bun. We ended the kiss, mutually pulling back.

"Is my application acceptable?" She breathed.

I nodded a minimal nod and forced myself to back away from her. Vidya was going to owe her. "Please, sit down."

She looked startled.

"For the rest of the interview." I said. "We need to complete the remainder of the credit application and review the terms of our deal.""

She flowed down into the chair, puzzled look on her face.

I could see that lust was fighting with her main purpose of being here, which was business. She wanted to give away what she had come to sell. "I am lending money to Liza against her cunt. She fucks, I reduce the outstanding balance. It is a bit more sophisticated than that but that is the basic idea. I will lend you money and you sign your body over to me."" Every time I expressed this, I felt a bit uneasy. If she balked, I might never be able to settle the matter. The alternative was always to foreclose and move them out immediately. I would hate to lose this woman, though. Fucking perfection is not always perfect; it can be a fucking challenge but that is part of the fun. Practice can be wonderful. It is like painting the trim red in a living room with white carpet, no room to make a mistake; there is no hope that a mistake would not be noticed.

Jennifer crossed her long legs. "You want me to fuck for money?"

"No. I want you to fuck for forgiveness of debt."

"Same difference."

I shrugged. "If you like. The balance sheet may end up the same but the mechanics are significantly different. As I see it, you will get to stay in your house for a while longer. I will buy your mortgage for protection and you will have time to work out an alternative without decimating your credit situation."

"It is already a mess. My fault."

"How much?"

"Forty grand, plus ten in the hole on the house."

"So fifty grand to get even. What is your monthly?"

"Five. Mortgage and living expenses." She smiled, uncomfortable now. "You know, to keep up appearances."

"Jeff is not much help, then?" I could have bit off my tongue. She had not yet told me her husband's name. She did not notice at that moment. She nodded.

"He is collapsing. His work is flat and it is commission based. He is barely making commission above the draw. I doubt they will keep him much longer and he knows it. His ability to keep going is, well, it is unlikely."

"So a year would be another sixty g's? Shall we say 120 K for you?"

Jennifer shrugged and nodded. "That much? That is a lot of fucking."

"I have not said yes, yet. I need you to do something for me."

She raised an eyebrow. Since she did not speak, it was an inquiring eyebrow.

"I want you to fuck some of the guys in the neighborhood, starting with tiny Tim Hanson."

"How about John Covington?" Jennifer asked, her eyes suddenly alight.

I smirked. "Have you tried before? What about Eve?" I had the sense that she was scared of Eve Covington and she resented it, hated it even.

"I have a movie of your Caddy in her driveway and you leaving at 10 that morning. Perhaps I can persuade her that she should stand back and let it happen this time."

I shrugged. "Perhaps. But fuck Ted." I wanted in the worst way to put my now hard cock into her. I had about talked myself out of it, hearing the clock ticking in my head when Jennifer stood up.

"Anything else?"

"Yes." Suddenly, I wanted her on her knees before me. I said so. Jennifer looked past her prominent breasts at me and then got to her knees, placing a hand on each of my knees and widening my legs. "There will be contracts and such, identifying the amounts and pay schedules." I said a little breathlessly. "Ms. Simpson, you will be selling me your body. Your husband will have to buy its use which means if you give it away, it goes on your account, increasing your debt to me, as it were. You will be owned. I, on the other hand, will be able to sell you to whomever I please for whatever I can get. You will be paid flat rates using a schedule. If you decide you wish to proceed, you can review the terms before you sign. They will flex based on how happy I am with your performance, for me or whomever I send you to." I lost my way. My resolute restraint failed. "Stand up and put your hands on the table."

I decided she needed to demonstrate her willingness to fuck on demand, here and now. My cock was straining against my pants, eager to burrow into this woman. Vidya would have to wait.

Jennifer licked her lips. I interpreted the look on her face as disappointment. She licked those pink lips once more before she finally rose to her feet, moved to her side of the table and bent over it, planting her hands on the surface. She looked over at me, her eyes veiled with a half-smile, almost-smirk on her lips. She arched her back and popped her ass out, presenting arms, as it were.