I had floated the idea of exclusivity and then monogamy to Lexi, my MILF of a benefactor. The idea was soundly shot down.
Shortly thereafter Lexi had arranged for me to visit our stunner of a Mexican neighbor, Salma. What began as a copywriting job started off with some very unusual benefits. Benefits not listed in the temp employees' contract.
I never knew if Lexi was giving me a "gift" or if it was a test or a reset. I was sure Lexi wanted to know the details about my "visit" with our next door neighbor Salma — but she would never explicitly ask.
The following week I had begun the mind-numbing job of writing copy for Salma's online boutique. The concept turned out to be yet another Silicon Valley inspired "crate" service.
You signed up your wife, girlfriend, or mistress for the white glove service and each month they'd be sent a crate of sex toys, lubricants, and lingerie. At $1000 a month, it was clearly catering to the jet-set millionaire playboy who didn't have the time or proclivity for shopping.
I imagined personal assistants all over the west coast breathing a sigh of relief that this was off their to-do lists. They could now concentrate on whatever Starbuck's soy latte invention of the month their bosses craved.
Still, there were days when I went off the reservation and instead of writing descriptions like this...
BELLE DU JOUR DRESS
Your partner is sure to love this romantic babydoll dress which accentuates your curves in a mix of mesh and lace. An unlined belted halter mesh top with a deep plunge front gets naturally sexy over a lace skirt with criss-cross details and cheeky back. A contrasting ribbon adds charm. Colors: White Passion, Tutti Pink, and Black.
...I'd subconsciously write descriptions like this:
SLUTTY CLUB DRESS
Your sugar daddy is sure to love this fuck-doll dress and will waste no time bending you over the sofa. Comes with a handy belt he can hang on to as he's pounding your sweet little pussy. A contrasting ribbon around your neck will be all that's left after your afternoon fuck session. Colors: Virgin White, Pussy Pink, and Cheating Black.
It didn't help that Salma had a cadre of lingerie models parading through the house in various states of undress. For the photographers, this was business as usual as they navigated between the product shoot and the craft table. For me, it was a boner inducing strip show.
It was a relief when Lexi's stepdaughter Devon, stopped by to pick-up the keys to the car.
"Hey renter-boy, Lexi needs the car back." stated Devon.
"Um yeah, that's Mr. Renter-Boy to you." I replied, "Know what? I'm coming with you."
"Whatever, Mr. Winter. I still get to drive, though." opined Devon.
I scooped up next month's crate of dildos and various other sundries and headed out to the driveway.
"I can't believe she bought this piece of crap instead of going in with Dad for my birthday present." sighed Devon.
I was unsure what she was talking about since the piece of crap she was referring to was this year's BMW X6 M. A very nice luxury SUV by anyone's standards.
"I'm sure your mom needed this for the real estate job..."
I was cut off by Devon before I could finish.
"She's my STEP-MOM. And since she didn't go in with my dad, I didn't get the exact 911 I wanted."
The key word here is "exact." This reminded me of the 16-year-olds who threw tantrums at their birthday parties when Mom and Dad bought the wrong color Porsche. When I turned sixteen I inherited a 10-year-old Subaru wagon. Kids.
Even though Devon was Lexi's stepdaughter, she never used that word in Devon's presence. She only used it to explain that her ex-husband was previously married. Lexi was "the other woman." The home wrecker. Yet she had raised Devon as her own since the age of five. Now Devon lived with her ex-husband George.
Lexi met us at the entrance of the driveway and kissed me as I got out of the SUV.
I looked at her after the kiss. There was an awkward silence before she said, "Oh, I'm sorry. Must have been a reflex." Lexi then backed out of the driveway without saying a word.
This meant we most likely did not have plans that evening. Now, yours truly, Mr. Overthinking was trying to divine just what this meant for our open relationship. It had been three weeks since we were intimate. A lifetime for a sex drive like mine.
No matter, I had work to do.
WiFi was down in the guest house so, I commandeered the kitchen and plugged in my laptop. I started working through the Sexchange Crate. The punny name was based on Exchange Rate could be misread as Sex Change Crate. Salma said not to worry, it tested very well and the domain name was available. Sure! Go ahead and ignore the writer who knows a little about linguistics.
Devon shot me the "look" people who have money give to the hired help. So I began to decamp for the couch in the sunroom. I needed a few more hours of copywriting under my belt and I'd be done for the weekend.
As a stepmother, Lexi did her best to raise Devon but, the girl always blamed Lexi for the divorce of her parents. And Devon wasn't wrong. She just took it harder than expected considering most of her friends were from divorced families.
Despite the grudge, Devon would often visit during school breaks. She did this to avoid having to interact with Daddy's new bimbo girlfriend, who was not much older than she was. Lexi tolerated this love-hate relationship with her stepdaughter.
It was dusk and I was still tapping away at the keyboard when a visibly drunk Devon plopped herself in front of me. Her boyfriend was late picking her up and she needed to be entertained. She was silent for the longest time before looking up from her phone.
"So how often do you have to fuck my stepmom to get away with living rent-free in the guest house?" inquired Devon.
I was caught off guard by the question. Devon was an observant girl and no stranger to trading sex for favors — at least based on Lexi's post coitus ramblings.
"C'mon tell me, Mr. Winter," said Devon playfully.
Devon liked to make me feel older by calling me by my last name if she wasn't using the term "writer-boy" or "renter-boy." She was the 10-12 years younger than me. Almost the same number of years between me and her MILF of a stepmom.
"Don't you ever think about younger pussy, Mr. Winter?" teased Devon.
I'd be lying if I said I'd never taken a second look at Devon. You can't control what you dream about so I'd also be lying if I said I hadn't also dreamed about Devon in compromising situations.
She was looking at me and pulling on her crop-top leather jacket. Underneath, Devon wore suede thigh high boots and a crochet mini-dress. The wide stitch on the knit dress made it obvious that for Devon, undergarments were optional. With her side parted pixie cut and silver hoop earrings Devon was a stunner. It takes a real beauty to pull off short hair.
If only her angelic looks weren't betrayed by her own insecurities. Devon had been pregaming and the results were starting to show. This was not a good combination with the way she was dressed. This was trouble with a capital T.
"So what about it, Mr. Winter? Don't you? Don't you..." teased Devon.
