Marys Story

Time was that I was like most other women, a happily married young mother with a nice suburban home and devoted husband, but I was a different person then.

I grew up in a very conservative Christian home; graduated from a Christian high school. That is where I met my future husband Ben. We even went to the same Christian college. It was in my freshman year that we discovered abstinence is far easier to moralize about than practice. We got married earlier than planed. I dropped out of college and got a job as a secretary to help with expenses. Times were tough, but we made it through.

Life got a lot better after Ben graduated and got a promising job. He was on the fast track with a growing company. Ben convinced me that we should buy a nice big house in an exclusive part of town. It was a lot of money, but I trusted that Ben knew what he was doing.

By the time I was 23 our second child came along so I quit work. Life was great; I loved being a stay-at-home mom, having home cooked dinners ready for Ben when he returned from the office each day. Even if I never left the house for the day, I'd make sure I was dressed nicely for Ben when he'd get home. His routine was to give me a kiss as soon as he walked in the door. While I dressed conservatively, I had some naughty silk nighties for when we were alone together.

Then the bottom fell out of our lives. The economy soured and the mortgage crisis struck. That was when I discovered that Ben had bought our house with no money down using an aggressive variable rate mortgage. Of course he was very remorseful. He explained how he planned to refinance after the house appreciated and before the interest rate reset. He had also been sure he would have received several promotions by that time too. The truth was, business at his company was so slow, he was lucky to have any job at all, and at his current salary, there was no way we could afford to keep our house. To make matters worse, we were already behind in our mortgage payments, so our credit was ruined.

I felt betrayed. How could he do this to me and our children? We depended on him to protect us and see that we had a nice place to live. I couldn't believe how stupid and naive he was. Of course as a good Christian I forgave him, but in the pit of my stomach lingered a deep feeling of disappointment.

We talked about what we might do, and agreed that the only real option we had was for me to go back to work. At least I could help out a little. Then I discovered just how bad the economy was. Almost nobody was hiring secretaries, or administrative assistants as we like to be called. As I kept sending out my resume, and received no call backs, I began to search farther a field. Finally I got a call back for an interview in a nearby city for a position advertised as Professional Assistant.

I dressed in my best outfit. Checking myself in the mirror, I was pleased with the confident young woman I saw. My long blond hair cascaded over the collar and onto my shoulders. The color of my dress complimented my penetrating blue eyes.

As I took the commuter train to the city center, I noticed several young black thugs checking out the women as they got on. They stared arrogantly at any pretty female as she entered, challenging her to make eye contact. I had to admit I found their presence to be somewhat disconcerting as they ogled my shapely legs and tiny narrow feet. It wasn't so much that they were black, but they behaved as if they should have their way with me if they so chose.

By the time I arrived at the address I was given, I was as nervous as I could be. My anxiety wasn't lessened when I saw just how many other women were gathered there. There must have been over a hundred. We all started by filling out a standard employment application. Then there was a typing test, which included transcription. My skills were rusty, and my transcription was never that good. My spirits dropped lower and lower as I realized just how much faster many of the other women were. So, wasn't I surprised when I was asked to go into a private office for an interview?

Elated at my unexpected second chance, I entered the room ready to do everything in my power to impress who ever I might encounter. I wasn't prepared for the people who greeted me. Behind the desk sat a very tall platinum blond woman. Even though her hair was rather short and her features strikingly angular and haughty, she was stunningly beautiful. Her blouse, while obviously expensive, had a plunging neckline hinting of no bra, certainly out of place in any office I ever worked in. Beside the desk sat a shorter thin, wiry, dark man, who looked more like a fashion designer than a business man.

The woman spoke first in a rather husky voice, "Good morning Ms. Travis...." She commenced to ask questions much more personal than I thought was permitted in an interview; however, I was so desperate for a job, I found myself answering in detail despite my growing reservations.

I still wasn't prepared for what happened next. "Very good Mrs. Travis. Would you now please remove you clothes so we may get a better look at you?"

"Wha, wha, what?" I stammered, not believing what I knew I heard.

"Your clothes, sweety," lisped the thin man. It was the first time he spoke. "The way you're dressed, we can't be sure you have the necessary assets to work for us."

"You see," broke in the woman, "we provide very special professional services for business men who travel to our city. We provide high-powered 'escorts' for very important clients. These are services for which you will be VERY well compensated, if we decide to let you work for us."

Shocked, not wanting to believe what I was hearing, I stood up, unconsciously smoothing the pleats of my skirt as I rose. Feeling myself blushing, standing before them wide-eyed, I stammered, "I, I don't think so. I thought you wanted a secretary."

"Listen honey," she hissed, "with your typing and dictation, there are no secretarial jobs for you, things being what they are. Besides, that work doesn't pay shit. But we can help you, and you need our help. We've already checked your credit."

With that she stood up; she was even taller than I thought. Thrusting a card at me she said, "You have that fresh and young look, just the kind of girl we need. When you come to your senses, give us a call."

Just to be away from there, I snatched the card from her hand, and pivoted quickly on my heel. As I literally stormed out the door, I heard her say, "You don't know how lucky you are Mary, most women in your position, don't have this option."

I left the building in a state of confused anxiety. I knew such places existed, but I never dreamed that I would encounter one. I was just glad to be away from those people, and for some reason, I felt so unclean.

Safely back home, I waited until the children were in bed before I told Ben about what had happened.

We were sitting next to each other on the couch as I described the situation. I noticed him squirming so I glanced at his crotch, and to my horror realized that he was getting an erection!

I was shocked; I didn't know what to do. My own husband with whom I had exchanged eternal vows of faithfulness and fidelity was excited by the thought of me becoming a harlot, a common whore.

I jumped up, "The idea of me becoming a prostitute excites you?" I challenged. "You like the idea of other men having sex with your wife? What kind of sick pervert are you?"

I was so hurt and angry I stormed away, retreating to the guest bedroom. I refused to listen to his lame explanations and entreaties for forgiveness. Instead I spent the night alone, sleeping little, praying and crying much. I kept asking myself what kind of man isn't able to provide for his family? Does a real man turn his wife over to other men for their pleasure?

I didn't talk to Ben the next morning either. I just tended to the children's needs. And let him make his own breakfast.

It wasn't long after Ben left for work, while I was praying for guidance, that the registered letter arrived; we had 30 days to make our mortgage current, or the mortgage company would foreclose.

Perhaps God wanted me to sacrifice myself for my family? I felt that I was attractive, but I never considered myself to be so beautiful that important men would want to pay to be seen with me. In a way, that I was offered such a chance was kinda complimentary. After all I started to rationalize, an escort isn't really a whore, she's more like eye-candy for powerful men when they are out and about.

For a long time, I stood before my dressing mirror thoughtfully looking at my reflection. Slowly I undressed, imagining that I was back in that dreaded office.

My ancestors came from Lithuania, so I am very fair. A little on the tall side at 5'7", I was rather skinny in high school, but have filled out now so I look attractively slim. After the babies, I took up aerobics at the local YMCA to get my figure back. No stretch marks, excellent complexion, long silken hair, I found myself running my fingers over my body, caressing myself ever so lightly. "Perhaps I am supper pretty," I whispered to myself.

With a shaking hand, I reluctantly picked up the phone.

Later that day, the receptionist directed me to the same office. I shivered as a feeling of foreboding washed over me as I knocked on the door. Even so, I stood tall, my head straight.

"Well Mary, you know what to do." the tall imposing woman said as I closed the door behind me. Her assistant was at his place sitting beside the desk.

I hadn't bothered to dress specially. I was wearing jeans and a sweater. With trembling fingers I pulled off my sweater and found the hooks to my bra. Trying desperately to imagine I was anywhere other than where I was, I stepped out of the jeans, pulled off my socks and slid my panties down until I could step out of them.

There I was, stark naked in front of strangers, strangers with unimaginable, evil intentions. No one other than my husband had seen me completely naked since I had reached puberty. I knew I was blushing. I was so ashamed of what I was doing. I was careful not to make eye contact, looking straight ahead at a mirror that reflected my naked image. I was shivering all over, partly from the cool air in the room, but mostly from nervousness and humiliation.

I could feel my nipples stiffen, standing out like long pencil erasers from my petite breasts, which I always thought too small to be sexy. My fine blond hair hung down upon my shoulders. My hair complimented my skin that was so pale that I can never tan. My small waist set off my hips showing I was a real woman. My relatively long, slender legs started just below the light patch of pubic hair that proved I was a true blond.

I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I felt trapped by my husband's inability to provide for his own family. I couldn't let my children lose their home if there was anything I could do to prevent it. And while I loved my husband, I was so hurt from his reaction of the previous night, and angry that he had gotten us in the fix we were in; I felt that I should at least see if I had the option of helping with the finances.

Glancing briefly at the assistant, I felt he was gazing at me in a strangely detached way. There was no indication of lust as I would have expected, but I did catch him nodding as if in approval. Then I shifted my gaze to the woman. She too had the look about her that said she liked what she saw. It was in her eyes that I detected the look of desire.

"Turn around," the woman commanded.

I was happy to face away from both them and the mirror. At the same time, I felt gratified and oddly pleased that they liked the way I looked. I had never thought of myself as sexy.

"Yes, you will do," she finally commented. "Your breasts aren't large, but they are nice and firm. You have good hair and skin and good proportions."

"William," she said addressing her assistant. "Get her proper attire. And do something about that forest of hers."

I waited in the reception area while William made several calls. Things were moving more quickly than I imagined they would. I wasn't sure what I had gotten myself into.

When William returned, he took me to a very upscale woman's shop. It was obvious the sales lady had worked with William before. Between the two of them they assembled three outfits complete with shoes, thongs and stockings, but no bras. William was adamant that with my figure I shouldn't wear bras. I had to admit the outfits made me look very sexy, a look I wasn't used to. I knew the outfits were expensive, and when I asked who would pay for them William explained that he would take care of it...,and simply deduct the cost from my earnings. I realized that I was getting in deeper all the time.

The next stop was a spa. I had never been to such a place before. There were several girls attending me, pampering me. They started with a mud wrap and an herbal facial. Then there was a full body massage. I couldn't help but be relaxed. Pumice treatment, brows plucked and trimmed.

I was really getting into being pampered when to my horror I felt the warm wax being applied to my pubic hair. I wanted to resist, I wanted to say no, but I was powerless to stop what had been started.

William directed them to take all my pubic hair while lisping to me, "Men just hate pubic stubble, and real ladies like to be smooth."

OUCH! What they did to me was practically medieval!

Finally I received recommendations on the best colors for makeup based on my complexion and hair.

Laden with packages, I caught the train home.

I couldn't help feeling that everyone on the train was paying attention to me. Both men and women were giving me that "second glance". People deferred to me more than usual. I received a nod of approval from a very beautiful woman. I was aware of a black policeman leering at me lustfully. An older woman eyed me wistfully. I was actually feeling like a different person. Things like that never happened to me before.

The trip had taken longer than I had planned and Ben was already home. He had already picked up the kids, and found the registered letter.

Dumbfounded as I entered he asked, "How can you go shopping when we have no money?"

"It's an advance on my first paycheck." I replied. "I needed work cloths."

Before he had a chance to reply I continued, "I trusted you with our finances, and look where we are. If I don't do something, we'll lose the house. You've had months to get us out of this bind, and nothing is any better.

Ben, we have no choice! Unless there is there a solution you haven't told me about.

Say the word, and I'll tell them to forget the whole thing, that it was all a big misunderstanding."

I waited in silence for Ben to tell me what I so desperately wanted to hear. I wanted him to say that the house wasn't important. I wanted him to tell me that he loved me so much that he could never tolerate the thought of me being with another man.

But the silence persisted. Ben's eyes fell; he looked so, so sad. I was starting to realize that Ben was out of his league, and I saw that he was beginning to realize that too.

I was raised to forgive. I took Ben into my arms and told him everything would be alright just as if I was comforting one of the children.

Later that night, I modeled one of the outfits for him. Catching a glimpse of myself in a mirror, it at first didn't register that the sensuous looking woman reflected back was me. I felt a sexiness I never felt before. I really liked the way I looked. The way the fabric draped my pale white skin, the way the cut enhanced my slim figure. I loved the way my golden hair brushed my shoulders.

My new look hinted at treasures to be bestowed only on the very fortunate.

I found myself responding; moving in a more sensual manner. Looking at Ben's expression, I realized a sense of power over him. It was clear he wanted to have sex with me very much.

Then we did something we had never before done, we acted out a sexual fantasy. We played that I was a professional escort, and that Ben was my rich client. It was clear Ben had fun, but I was overcome by a feeling of foreboding; I knew it wouldn't stay a fantasy long.

The "work" really wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. My clients were generally businessmen away from home who wanted some companionship for an evening. They were well screened, and all the payments were handled by my employer. Usually they were disguised as legitimate business expenses on a credit card. I even received a paycheck with taxes and such deducted.

Most of my clients were middle aged white guys, very pleased to have a pretty young companion. My skill in exercising power over men grew. I became a seductress. I could read the longing in their eyes as they caught their first glimpse of me. I behaved as if I was a goddess meant to be desired and worshiped by men.

They never hesitated to spend money on me. I dined at the finest restaurants. I sensed how proud they were to have me on their arm. They would take me dancing. I grew to enjoy being a sensual, partly wild creature on the dance floor. I loved the way my body felt dancing, expressing my new found sensual freedom. I took great satisfaction in using dance to make their longing for me increase.

Some clients were foreign businessmen from Europe and even Asia. I have to say it was intriguing the first time I had a dark Hindu, but the sex wasn't anything special; he just smelled like curry. That said, a few men were rather good lovers, and to my shame I discovered that even a prostitute can experience an orgasm with the right man.

A few of my clients were strong and robust and knew how to treat a lady. I found it impossible not to compare them to my husband.

Of course condoms were required, and no matter how much they begged, or what they offered, I never relented.

I was able to get the family out of debt. To the neighbors, we were just a typical two working parent family. That most of my work was nights and evenings meant that the children were with a parent most of the time, which was nice.

Ben and my sex life even improved. I would tell him about the men I was with, and that would make him so hard. I always told Ben that no man was his match as my lover, but I wasn't always truthful.

I would frequently describe one of my clients and what we did. Ben would play the role of my client, recreating what had happened to his wife. He would get so excited, acting out what some stranger had experienced with his spouse. He always came harder and more often then.

And when I related how, for a huge tip, I allowed a Japanese man to have anal sex with me. That got him all worked up. He wanted very much to experience what it was like to stick his penis into a tight little ass, but I denied him that. I really didn't like it, and I found it more fun to let him know that there are some things other men get to do with me that he isn't allowed. I got a perverse sense of joy that way. After all, if he was a better bread winner, I never would have taken to the world's oldest profession.

One thing that I thought odd was that while I got a fair number of foreign clients, I was never assigned a client from Africa, or even a Black American for that matter. I mentioned that to William one day. He simply said that I was one of the junior employees, and that seniority had its privileges. Then he added, "Mistress keeps the best ones for herself." Mistress was the name everybody used to address the tall blond woman I first met.

One day, in the middle of winter, I received a call from William, "Mistress has the flu, and needs you to accompany a very important client of hers. His name is Kefentse. You'll meet him at the Four Seasons at six."

"How exciting I thought, finally I'll get to meet one of Mistress' special clients."