Best-Case Scenario

The following is a work of fiction – for now. It describes a fantasy I fully intend to make as real as possible. Those who have advice regarding the scenario I spin below are welcome to contact me, I am pleased to hear from you!

*

It's me again, with another could-be-true scenario of sex and lust outside of my marriage, where I don't get laid nearly as much as I need and when I do it kind of sucks. A little background, for those who haven't read 1 and 2: I'm a thirty-year-old guy with an eighteen-year-old lust that never gets satisfied. I love lesbians, tit-sucking, deep tongue kissing, and role-playing, none of which describes the things my wife is into. She likes romance and deep emotional bonding, which is fine and good, but not much fun when that's what it has to be about every damn time.

Incidentally, most married men get laid more than once a month, don't they? I'd hate to think that this is really how it's supposed to be.

A moment ago, I mentioned lesbians as one of my turn-ons. For the record, this is NOT something I expect of my wife. I have never asked her to participate in a threesome or even pretend to get excited about lesbian porn for my benefit. I am not upset about the fact that she doesn't swing both ways. I'm not even sure I'd like it if she did.

But dammit, if I can't even get some reasonably enjoyable sex from her, I'm sure as hell going to indulge in my ultimate fantasies when I go seeking it elsewhere! Because that's what it's come down to. Unable to find satisfaction at home, I have turned to the age-old tradition of Adultery to fulfill my sexual needs. I'm not looking for affairs at the office or keeping mistresses; I don't need emotional fulfillment, only sexual. For my extra-marital sex, I go to professionals: strippers, escorts, and whores. I wish it were legal, so that I didn't have to be a criminal as well as an adulterer, but such is life.

(Note: I'm speaking as if I actually do this. I don't. I've never cheated on my wife beyond a lapdance with all the rules of the strip club strictly obeyed. These stories are fantasies I use to cope with the lack of sex in my life, not a description of what I really do.)

I live in Houston, where prostitution is illegal, but it's still everywhere. There are strip clubs all over the city, massage parlors at every highway interchange, and "modeling studios" next door to all the above. And, of course, there are the escorts for hire. You can find them on the internet (presumably you're on the internet right now – go see for yourself), and they come in all varieties.

I'm looking for something special: two women, busty and beautiful, willing to get down and dirty with me and each other. The keyword to search for is PSE: Porn Star Experience.

They're out there…

* * * * *

"Hey, it's no problem, hon," I said graciously. "Go ahead and indulge, and I'll see you in the morning."

"You're sure?"

My wife was on the other end of the phone. She had called me while I was engaged in a frequent habit of mine, flipping through internet websites of professional escorts and imagining what it would be like to get it on with some of those hot girls for hire. So far, I hadn't done anything but look, but I suddenly realized that might change this very night! "You don't get to cut loose that often," I said to my wife. "Have a few margaritas with friends. If Lindsey's okay with having you crash for the night, that's cool. Unless you want me to come pick you up?"

Please say no, please say no…

"No, don't even do that, it's clear across town. Besides, you know I get carsick when I drink. I'll just stay here and drive home tomorrow."

"Okay," I said, trying to sound calm and nonchalant. "I'll see you in the AM, or maybe sometime after noon if you really party."

"That second one is more likely," my wife admitted. "Cool. Don't stay up too late!"

"I'll try not to. I'll probably just surf the web for a few hours."

"Careful," she deadpanned. "Don't have too much fun."

"I'll manage. Goodnight, sweetheart."

"'Night, love!"

She hung up the phone, and I brought up the details on a link I had just found on the Houston Escort website I had been browsing. Two women looked back at me, both sexy and slutty with big racks and sweet bodies. I read the description of services carefully:

"Fulfill your fantasies with us! We're two hot, steamy girls who can give you the attention you crave. We love to have fun and we want to hear your ideas for how to do it. A true GFE/PSE experience awaits you! We're at our best with a polite, CLEAN gentleman who treats us right. The fee for our time is non-negotiable and tips will ensure that you get the very best service. Serious calls only, please. Men, women, and couples. We are available individually but we think you'll like us best together!"

The rest of the information was about their rates, contact info, and indicated that they were available for incalls or outcalls. I certainly didn't want to have them come to my house, and I preferred not to spring for a hotel room, so I was glad to see they had the incall option. The rates were a little steep – four hundred dollars for the two of them for a half hour – but I happened to have some extra dough in my hidden stash due to some fortuitous sales of stock photography over the web (my wife knew nothing about my secret second income). I decided to go ahead and blow it, and opted for the $1000 hour-and-a-half special. That would leave me with about $400 for tips, $100 for champagne and gifts, and would reserve some money in my little sex account for next time.

Of course, there was every possibility the girls were already booked. It was Friday night, after all, and I was trying to do this on very short notice. I decided that the first thing to do was to place the call and see if I could even get them; if not, then I decided I would forgo the evening. I had discovered early on in my adulterous career that it was better to spend my money on what I really wanted than to settle for something less. In other words, one half-hour threeway was better than a dozen no-touch lapdances.

I placed the call, feeling the familiar rush I always did when I initiated a new encounter. Sometimes I wonder if it wasn't that anticipation high that kept me coming back for more, and not the sexual release. It's such a gloriously ALIVE feeling, to embark on such an adventure and to do something,

anything,

that involved some risk and daring.

"Hello," said the recorded voice on the other end of the line. "You have reached the mailbox of Erica and Sylvia. If you would like to set up an appointment, please leave a call-back number and we will be back with you very shortly. Serious inquiries only, please."

I hadn't expected this, and found myself in a momentary quandary over whether I should leave my home number. I quickly decided that these women must have had married men for clients before and would be well aware of the need for discretion, and so I punched my number into the phone and hung up.

Then came the waiting. I timed it – it actually took seventeen minutes, but it felt like one hell of a lot longer. All I could do was pace around the living room, too nervous to sit down. I became drenched with sweat. My heart pounded. Like I said, the rush I feel in such circumstances is unreal, and it was something I wished I could get in other ways. I've tried things like bunjee jumping and rock climbing, but there's a component missing to the adrenaline high in activities like those; there's no SEX involved. The adrenaline high coupled with intense sexual tension is what gives me that rush that I crave. Again, I could probably be satisfied with my own wife if she were willing to be even a little bit adventurous in bed, but she won't. Heck, I couldn't even get her to make love on the living room sofa one afternoon when we were alone in the house; she said she felt too "exposed".

The phone rang at last. I had to stop and remind myself that it could be my mother or something, and that I must try to answer the phone in a normal voice. I let it ring twice, then grabbed it. "Hello?"

"Hi, this is Erica, returning your call," said the voice on the other end. It was even-toned, but there was a hint of sensuality to it.

"Good evening, Erica," I said, forcing myself to remain calm. "My name is Xavier, and I'm responding to the advertisement placed by you and Sylvia. I'd like to inquire about your services." (I've taken to using the name Xavier, instead of my own.)

"Well, I'm so glad you called," Erica replied, her voice still light and friendly. "When were you hoping to get together, and for how long?"

"By any chance, are you both available tonight?"

"I'll need to check with Sylvia. Please hold for a moment."

I waited, nervously twitching my foot.

"Hello, Xavier?" she said at last. "This must be your lucky night. It seems we've had a cancellation, so we can get you in. What did you have in mind?"

Their advertisement had specifically said that there was to be no explicit talking on the phone, so I refrained from saying in detail what I really wanted. "I'd like to spend about an hour and a half with you both," I said. "I would prefer to come to your location. I could be there at around ten o'clock, if that works for you."

"I think that will be just fine. Since this is our first time doing business together, let me explain how it works. You'll come to our place at ten o'clock, and we'll take fifteen minutes to get to know each other a bit. During that time, if you decide that we aren't what you had in mind, or if for some reason we decide that we won't be able to work with you, then we'll call the whole thing off and there won't be any hard feelings. If we all get along, then you'll need to hand us an unsealed envelope with the agreed-upon fee, in cash, and your hour and a half starts from that moment. Is that all acceptable to you?"

"Perfectly."

She gave me directions to her location, and made sure I understood that the $1000 was for their time, and that anything that happened during that time was simply a matter of consensual activity between adults. Naturally, I agreed to it all – they were simply trying to protect themselves, legally. I had no doubt of the sort of services I was really buying.

"Okay, Xavier, we'll look forward to seeing you at ten o'clock," Erica said. "We'll be ready. I hope you will be."

She hung up. I took a deep breath and went upstairs to shower and shave.

* * * * *

On the way there, I bought a bottle of quality champagne, and two bottles of perfume (they had provided a list on their website of gifts they preferred, and I went by that). I also bought some fiery red lipstick for both of them, though that was more for my own benefit; I love hot red lips!

The address they had given me turned out to be a condo in a surprisingly affluent neighborhood, which surprised me somewhat until I considered that they were probably able to cover the monthly rent payments with just two nights of work. I parked in the space they had told me to take, and looked out my passenger side window at their door. The moment of anticipation was at hand, the adrenaline was going, and my pulse felt like the beating of drums. With a slightly quivering hand I took the champagne and gift packages, and an envelope with their payment. A few seconds later I was ringing the bell.

"One moment!" came a voice from inside. I tapped my foot nervously, feeling exposed and self-conscious standing there in full view of the neighbors, some of whom had to know about the business that went on in this house. I had turned up the collar on my jacket and wore sunglasses, but I still felt like I was standing there naked holding up a sign that said, "I'm here to see the hookers!"

The door opened, and there stood an intensely sexy woman.

She stood about five-foot-eight in heels. Her eyes were sparkling blue, and her hair was light brown and wavy, falling to just below her shoulders. She wore a simple black evening dress, and it revealed seriously deep cleavage. Her breasts were large and full, and they seemed firm enough to stand out on their own without the need for support. A long slit up the side of the dress revealed a toned, smooth leg. There was a sweetness to her face that didn't match the stereotype of those in her line of work; she looked more like a young housewife or schoolteacher, definitely not a whore.

"Hi, I'm Erica," she said. "Won't you come in?"

"I'd be delighted," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

I stepped inside and she closed the door. The condo was as nice on the inside as out, with quality furniture and indirect lighting. Down the hall was a room from which a red light glowed, and from that room came my second "date" for the evening. Sylvia looked less "wholesome" than her playmate, but she didn't look slutty or trashy by any means. Her eyes were slightly narrow and smouldered just a bit, even when she smiled brightly as she would to a new client she had just met (which I was, of course, but the smile was the same one I might have seen from a real estate agent or a waitress looking for a good tip). She was less busty than Erica but still very pleasingly shaped, slim and athletic and able to wear a tight-fitting red dress to its best advantage. Her hair was blonde and straight, and draped over one shoulder in a way that I had somehow always found alluring.

I felt nervous and self-conscious; I wasn't quite sure what to say or do next.

Fortunately, the ladies were very much in their element, and knew how to put me at ease. "Xavier, we're so glad you're here!" Sylvia said as she approached and offered me her hand. "I'm Sylvia, and you've already met Erica. Please, come inside and sit down so we can get to know each other a little."

"Thank you," I said graciously, and I kissed Sylvia's hand. She raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth slightly as if surprised and touched by this show off gallantry, and indicated the nearby sofa with her other hand, inviting me to sit down.

"I've brought some champagne," I said, offering the bottle. "It wouldn't do to let it get warm."

"Mmm, we should put that on ice right away," Erica said, and took the bottle from me. She glanced at the label and smiled with approval; it wasn't Dom Pérignon, but it wasn't cheap either, and I think she was pleased to see that I was prepared to invest a little extra in the evening.

I sat down while Sylvia brought out glasses and Erica pulled an ice-filled silver bucket from the kitchen. The sofa was an unusual U-shape, so that I could sit in the middle and the two ladies could be on either end, all of us facing each other. The champagne was popped, flutes filled, and the ladies came in and sat down together. Erica offered me a glass.

"Did you have a toast in mind?" Sylvia asked.

I had a number of things in mind, but nothing I could blurt out without sounding offensive (even though they probably wouldn't mind, I wanted to maintain a certain air of class). "

Del hora y para el momento que vera,

" I offered, hoping I wasn't stumbling too badly over the pronunciation.

"Which means?" Erica prompted.

"'To this moment, and the moment yet to come,'" I translated.

"I like that," Sylvia said with a smile as we clinked glasses.

I silently thanked James Bond for the inspiration (

The Man with the Golden Gun

, for those who want to know). We sipped champagne together and the girls sat back a bit to relax.

"So, tell us about yourself," Erica said.

I gave them a few details about me, fairly quickly, wanting to get through the opening amenities as soon as possible and down to the business at hand. I knew I could probably accelerate the process by pulling out the envelope with the cash, but it

was

a substantial investment and I wanted to be as sure as possible that these were the right women to spend it on. They had the look, and they had the class, but I wanted to know that they would perform. I wanted to turn the conversation toward sexual matters, but I wasn't sure how to do it delicately. And I really wanted to see them kiss!

I decided to put the ball in their court; after all, I didn't want to have to call the shots all night, and I wanted to see if they had some initiative. "So, that's me in a nutshell," I said, concluding my self-revelation. "What about the two of you? I get the idea that you're very close."

"Oh, we are," Erica said, reaching up to stroke Sylvia's arm. "We share

everything

."

"All of our

most

intimate secrets," Sylvia agreed, and they smiled knowingly at each other. "We were roommates in college, and we discovered back then how much we had in common."

"I remember when we found out we were both bisexual," Erica said, her hand going from Sylvia's arm over to the side of her breast.

"Mmm, now

that

was a night to remember," Sylvia said, licking her lips slightly. "Anyway, we've been lovers ever since."

"We can barely keep our hands off each other," Erica said, a naughty glint sparkling in her eye as she rubbed her hands up and down Sylvia's thighs, which Sylvia obviously enjoyed.

"Can I share a secret with both of you?" I asked quietly, not wanting to break the sexual tension in the air.

"Of course," Erica said.

"I get really turned on by watching two women touch each other," I said. "And it's really exciting when they kiss."

"Mmm, like this?" Sylvia asked, as she closed her eyes and brought her lips up to Erica's. They made contact with lips first and then tongues, keeping their mouths separated just enough so that I could see the mutual caressing.

I needed no more convincing; I took the envelope out and placed it on the sofa next to Erica. She continued kissing her lover for a moment longer, and then they pulled apart and smiled seductively at me before Erica picked up the money.

"We're going to have a great evening together," she said.

* * * * *

The women asked if I would mind giving them a moment alone and invited me to wait in the room down the hall. Of course, I was perfectly fine with that, but before letting them go I gave them the other gifts I had brought – namely, the perfume and the lipstick.

Then came another bit of delicious anticipation, waiting for an imminent fantasy to come to life. The room where it would happen was the one from which Sylvia had come when I first saw her, and that was where they had me wait. It was a room obviously designed with a purpose, with a large bed up against one wall, a sofa against the other, and a bar with two plush stools opposite that. I had brought the champagne with me, and so I set the bucket there.

The carpet itself would have been soft enough to sleep on. I noticed a pair of large hooks in the ceiling over the empty space in the middle, suitable for hanging a sling or other paraphernalia for sexual acrobatics. A massage table was folded against one wall. On another wall stood a large cabinet with glass doors held all manner of devices and adult toys, some of which I'd never seen or heard of and couldn't immediately tell how they might be used (just as an example, they later said that one of the more mysterious items was a strap-on for a man that was specifically designed so that he could satisfy three women who would all straddle him in a row). The windows were blacked out and draped with heavy red curtains, and the room itself was mostly red in color as well. The lights were low, but bright enough so that one could see easily.