DISCREETOFFICESERVICES.COM Chapters 3--4 (1 Viewer)

[campusvamp]

Chapter 3...

The present...

Walking into a hotel in the middle of the day, dressed as I am, used to frighten me. I just knew everyone was whispering about me. Knew I was a whore meeting a guy for sex. Now my stride was quick and confident because I didn't care what other people might think. The room number had been texted to my phone, so I didn't slow my walk to the elevators. In the elevator, I pulled my dress up an inch and gave my boobs another lift. The man who answered my knock was a semi-regular of mine. He always asked Marla for me and we managed to meet at least once or twice a month when our schedules meshed.

After the door closed behind me, I let Tim pull me into a long, stand-up kiss. He smiled into our kiss when his roving hands moved up under my dress to find that I wasn't wearing panties. While his hands continued to explore my ass, I pulled back from our kiss to ask, "What's your excuse this time?"

"I'm meeting a prospective investor over a long lunch," Tim replied. Giving my ass a final, hard squeeze, he released me. I pulled the hem of my dress down as he walked to the mini-bar and came back with two bourbons over ice. I usually have a strict rule of not drinking anything that might have been spiked. "You're not trying to roofie me, are you," I asked.

Tim laughed and reached under my dress to cup my pussy. Sliding a finger inside me, he asked, "Now, Viv. Why would I need to roofie a sure thing?" That was certainly true. I'd learned at high school parties how to shotgun beer, tossing back a shot of cold bourbon was no problem though it burned all the way down and exploded in my stomach. Tim laughed at my facial expressions as my drink disappeared and sipped his. Moving to separate his fingers from between my legs I picked out two more small bottles from the mini bar, topping off Tim's drink and refilling mine. Tim laughed again, "Are you trying to get me drunk, Viv?"

Putting my glass down on the counter, this time it was my time to laugh as I reached to loosen his tie, "Now, Tim. Why would I need to get a sure thing drunk?"

Sipping our drinks as we took turns loosening and losing clothing, it wasn't long before I pushed Tim onto the small couch in the suite. Tim is one who likes to take his time with me. He never seems to rush and he's a real tit lover. As he demonstrated again by playing with and sucking on my tits for long minutes until my nipples were hard and aching in his mouth.

I finished my drink with small sips while Tim took his time sucking on my tits while hands continued to explore my ass and pussy. Sliding two fingers up my pussy, he was pleased to find that I was already wet for him. There was a clock alarm on a table by the bed. I glanced at it while holding Tim hard to my breast. I knew Tim liked to take his time. I also knew that he needed to come twice for me to get a big tip. It was time to get his first over with so he'd have time to rest up for a second.

Pushing Tim to sit back on the couch, I went to my knees on the floor to remove his shoes, pants and briefs. Pushing his knees open, I leaned over and let Tim watch me run my tongue tip over the head of his cock. Moving forwards between his legs, I continued to stroke and suck his cock while he watched and finished his drink. Rising from my knees to straddle his lap, I took his glass and set it aside before reaching between us to slide his tip between my pussy lips until it was wet with my juice. Opening my legs, I put the tip to my hole and slowly impaled myself on his cock.

Once I had him inside me, it wasn't long before his hands left my tits to grasp my hips. Soon he was thrusting upwards while his hands held me in place. I put my hands on the back of the couch to either side of his head and leaned forwards just enough to run my hard nipples lightly across his lips. Teasing him by pulling back before he could capture one. Only when he groaned he was coming and held still, deep in my pussy, did I let him capture his reward. He came while sucking hard on my tit.

Rising up and off Tim's dick, we both watched as his large load dripped from my pussy lips to pool on his stomach. Kneeling on the floor between his legs again, I pulled my hair back and out of the way so it wouldn't drag through the wet pool. Tim reached with his hand to help control my long hair and contentedly watched as I chased every drop of cum with my tongue until his stomach was clean.

Shortly afterwards we were relaxing on the bed with fresh drinks. I took slow sips. My cheeks were slightly numb from the two drinks I'd already had. Shot gunning bourbon on an empty stomach is a dangerous thing to do. Tim did most of the talking. As usual, he spewed about all the crap he'd had to put up with from bosses at work and his wife and kids at home since the last time we'd met. All the while I listened attentively. After so many previous meetings, by now I knew the names of his wife, kids and co-workers. I knew enough about them to offer advice about Tim's youngest who wanted to drop out of college in her senior year.

Mental therapists charge shit loads of money per hour in this city. Two hours of my time was a bargain for Tim, and I did something better for my clients than just validating parking. In truth? Giving Tim an attentive audience and the time to get all this crap out of his system once a month probably did more for him than my letting him put two loads of cum into me.

But cum, not psychology, is my business. I was determined to get a good tip and glancing at the clock I knew I had to act. While Tim talked, I put my hand on his cock and started stroking until it was hard. Moving to straddle his hips, again I impaled myself on his cock. While I rode him cowgirl, I resisted when he tried to pull me down so he could suck on my nipples again. Playfully, I kept fending off the hands trying to pull me down. Leaning down to tease him, I let Tim bury his face between my tits before pulling away.

Laughing, kissing Tim and teasing, "No. Not this time you greedy boy. I did all the work last time, so you don't get my tits again until you give me what I want!" I whispered what I wanted in his ear while kissing the sweet, sensitive spot everyone, men and women, seem to have on their neck. "I want to be fucked long and hard!"

Now that Tim knew how to earn his 'reward', I was squealing at how quickly he moved to put me on my back. Tim isn't a young man. Having come just a short while ago I was certain I'd be fucked quite a long time as he earned his reward for services rendered. I spread my legs wider as he began to thrust hard. The slide of his cock filling me as his weight pressed me into the mattress felt so good. Tim was always a decent lover and he was again today. With long, passionate kisses as our tongues tried to enter each other's mouths as deeply as his cock entered my pussy, we began a missionary fuck which ended with him propped up on his arms while thrusting his cock into me. Tim was pounding my pussy lips so hard my breaths came in gasps between grunted words as I urged him on to fuck me harder.

I love it when my job is also pleasant. Tim was sweaty and gasping for air when he finally pressed hard between my legs as he came. Moving my hips to grind against his groin had my clit tingling. I was very pleasantly surprised at how good I felt between my thighs. I didn't orgasm but everything between my legs was telling me I'd been fucked good and hard.

As Tim rested above me, still on locked arms, after a few more seconds I reached up to pull him down and let him have his reward. I was content to lie still while feeling his still hard cock move inside me as he sucked on my nipples until they ached. But... alas, there's always a 'but' as Marla had once told me... the time on the alarm clock was telling me it was time to go.

That's what I had to tell Tim. If he'd requested more time, after a short call to Marla, I would have said yes. Both for the extra money and for the orgasm I knew I'd have if just from masturbating while Tim watched. Rolling off me, he seemed content with a short blowjob to clean his cock and to watch me pad about in my garter, stockings and high heels. Fixing us another drink, I took Tim his and told him I was going to use the powder room. Carrying my drink and handbag I went into the bathroom but left the door open so we could talk.

Opening my legs wider than my usual stance, I used a damp washcloth to wipe away Tim's sweat and cum. After inserting a tampon so cum wouldn't wet my dress during the taxi ride home, I dropped the washcloth and used my foot to swipe it over the tiles of the floor to clean up the cum that had dripped from my pussy.

Back in the room, Tim handed me another drink. Sipping, I let Tim watch me dress. Men seem to become mesmerized while watching a large-breasted girl putting on a brassiere. As I finished the last of my drink, Tim said he'd left me a gift on the mini-bar counter. Putting the envelope in my handbag, I found my lipstick and used the mirror behind the mini bar to apply a thick, red coating to my lips.

Tim had a knowing grin on his face as I approached the bed. He knew from previous encounters what I was about to do. I'm not exactly sure when red lipstick became my 'thing'. But sometime in the last few months, I'd found that leaving a client I liked a reminder of me brought much repeat business. Days already scheduled with repeat clients I liked meant having to do clients I didn't like less often. Win-win for me! None of my 'preferred customers' had yet to complain. Tim certainly didn't as I leaned over the bed and took my time pressing a bright red kiss mark onto the bulb of his cock.

"So, I'm still one of your preferred customers," Tim asked while looking at the red brand on the head of his dick. I laughed and with a nod and a finger wave, I exited the room.

I counted the gift, the very nice gift, Tim had given me in the taxi on the way back to my apartment. Next week was my nineteenth birthday and I was taking the day off to spend with my mom. Window shopping in the mall and a lunch. Then home for the birthday cake with a few girlfriends. This tip went a long way to making up for a lost day of pay.

Tim was my only client of the day. Back in my apartment, after removing my makeup and showering, I had time to do the housework I'd been putting off during busy days. Dusting, sweeping and a bit of mopping in the nude while dancing to some favorite tunes. Dressed in my 'suburban' clothes again, I stopped at the Coffee Clutch on my way to the train stop. A light snack was just what I needed to keep my blood sugar up for the train ride home.

And my courage. I planned on telling Mom I was moving out. It was time...

The Present... The Next Day...

"Master, I think the rope should have gone through the other loop first," I helpfully observed.

"Slave, I told you never to speak unless I give you permission," Master replied in a commanding voice and spanked my ass several times as I whined and groveled, begging his forgiveness. His spanking stung my already red ass cheeks but not nearly as much as I was acting they had. I've actually found that spanking made me wet. I was naked and on my knees in front of Master. With my head down in submission, I had a good view of the rope I was being tied with. The rope he was looping about my waist slackened as he knelt beside me to look at the paper drawing near our knees.

Sometimes a whore will have clients with very specific fantasies. Something beyond blow jobs and sex in whatever position they fancied. One of the very first things I've learned as a whore is, to be a good whore you have to be a decent actress. To give the client what he wants, you have to become the character the client sees in his fantasy. Like now... I'm playing the part of a poor damsel captured by a ruthless rogue. Helplessly tied up, tortured, and eventually ravished by my new Master. Oh, my! Whatever shall become of me?

Yea, well, I wasn't going to hold my breath while waiting for the ravishing to begin. We were well over an hour into our session and I was yet to be tied up. Master smoothed out the paper lying on the faux bearskin rug and took his time studying several complex diagrams of ropes crisscrossing over drawn female forms. He finally nodded his head. "I think you're right, Viv. I mean... Silence, Slave," I was commanded with another series of hard slaps to my ass.

I glanced at the clock. I hated to disappoint Master but... Dropping out of character I began untangling my arms from the half-completed rope bindings. "Charlie, I'm sorry but this just isn't going to work," I told him with a gentle hand on his shoulder, trying to let him down easy. "Your new design is just too complex to be completed in two hours even without the pictures you'll want to take. I wish I could give you more time, but I just can't. Not today."

I didn't explain why. When I turned down requests from clients to stay longer, I never gave a reason. I just let them assume I had another client to see. Charlie looked at his watch and muttered a quiet, Damn! Then he nodded, agreeing with me.

Charlie was in his mid-fifties and a high mucky muck at one of the nation's largest ad agencies. His 'thing' was ropes and knots. He's loved them since he was a Boy Scout learning to tie his first clover hitch. Then he got older and discovered girls. At some point, he discovered the Japanese art of Kinbaku, Tight Binding. Suddenly he'd found his passions merging together. He was a member of a small group of men scattered across the globe. They spent hours, days, designing rope decorations and then more untold amounts of time and money bringing those designs to life with willing men and women. They also exchanged photos of women and men bound in various combinations of rope decoration along with pictures, diagrams, and instructions on how to tie the patterns.

For six months Charlie and I have been meeting once, sometimes twice a month in a studio that no one except us knew he had. When Marla had told me she had a request from a client for a tall woman who would agree to be tied up, I'd hesitated at first. Being tied to a bed and fucked for two hours might be okay, but... One never knew with new clients if there was a wolf lurking underneath the sheep's clothing, but... The large amount of money offered was too good to pass up.

Charlie turned out to be a teddy bear under the sheepskin exterior. During our first session, we hadn't even had sex. Instead, Charlie had proudly given me a tour of his studio, dark room, and a simply fabulous collection of expensive cameras and other equipment. Sitting on his couch, he'd given me a verbal and visual tour through an album of women tied in intricate rope decorations so I'd get the feel of what he wanted to do. Afterward, I'd stripped and Charlie spent the remainder of our session photographing my body in different poses from my toes to my hair to see how I 'showed on film'.

He's requested me ever since our first appointment because of my long legs, narrow waist, and large boobs. I'm long waisted and Charlie insists that rope decorations just look better on women who have several more inches of slender skin between pussy and tits than shorter women. It's the same reason he loves binding and photographing my long legs. Charlie likes my large boobs because, well... What man doesn't like large boobies?

Not all of Charlie's prior decorations were as elaborate as what he'd tried today. Some were very simple. The photography actually took longer as he posed me in one position after another. Charlie began his career in advertising as a photographer. As he rose up through the corporate hierarchy, he never lost his passion for photography, women, and Kinbaku. Now that he has the money to indulge in his passions, he spares no expense. There's always wine and a selection of delicacies for me to munch on while Charlie arranges lights and settings for our next shoot. There are several pictures of me out in the world now, all tastefully photographed and none showing my face enough that I'd be recognizable.

Charlie didn't pay me to be just a mannequin. He could have afforded models if that was all he wanted. He chose to pay for a whore. Once I was bound in the way he wanted that day, Charlie didn't always spend the remainder of our time just photographing me. Some of the photos Charlie shared with his fellow enthusiasts showed tributes of cum to my stomach, ass, or tits as well as rope.

Charlie like experimenting with different ropes. Thick, thin, course and rough or smooth. Even trying different colors. The rope Charlie was using today felt like silk sliding through my fingers as I helped loop it into coils. Marla special ordered the rope and I delivered it when we met so it wouldn't go to Charlie's mailbox where his wife might see. It cost a small fortune, but Charlie had the means to order rope by the mile if he wanted.

I took another quick glance at the clock. I try not to clock-watch when I'm with a client. I also don't short-change my clients on time. Charlie still had over twenty paid-for minutes of my time before I needed to get dressed. I walked to where the small buffet was on the counter and drank a glass of wine while munching on a few buttery crackers coated with a creamy, cheesy spinach dip. I expected Charlie to request quicky sex in the time remaining or, or something... Pouring a second glass of the excellent red, I looked over at Charlie and shook my head in amusement. I'm not used to being ignored while standing naked in the same room as a client while wearing only fuck-me stiletto heels.

I poured Charlie a glass of wine and sat next to him on the studio's sofa. He was still studying the diagram. Handing him his drink I slid the paper out of his hand. "I'm tired of being ignored, Charlie," I pouted as if he hadn't just spent well over an hour wrapping me in rope. Leaning over to kiss him, I continued to pout, "Instead of a paper drawing of a woman why not look at a real one instead?"

Turning slightly to face one another, we sipped our wine. "I have been looking at you. Viv, I was a photographer for ten years before moving up to a new job in the company. Back in the day, I photographed some the world's top models for ad campaigns. You're right at the top with them. I'm really lucky to have you as my model."

"Speaking of 'really lucky', we don't have much time left, but what if I tied you up and had my way with your body? Maybe a little something to help you forget the disappointment of not getting your knots tied today," I asked, reaching over to lightly run my hand over a cock that was getting noticeably hard under his trousers.

"Gee, I don't know, Viv. I'm very, very disappointed," Charlie said. Sliding his butt towards the edge of the cushion, he closed his eyes and smiled as I un-did his trousers enough to pull his cock from the zipper opening. When my hand began stroking his hardening shaft, Charlie dreamily asked. "What knot would you use to tie me up with? Granny or square knot?"

Bringing my legs together to kneel on the couch, I pointed his tip up with my hand and leaned in ready to try and bring him in the short time we had left. "Oh, nothing so common as those for you. I'd use the double fisherman knot."

My lips were about to meet the tip of Charlie's cock when he jerked away and sat up. He was astonished and all thoughts of receiving a blow job had vanished as he asked in amazement, "How the heck do you even know about the double fisherman?"

"I web-searched knots to surprise you, but I didn't have time to learn how it's tied."

"I'll teach you!" A very happy Charlie was trying to rise to his feet to get to his beloved rope before my hand on his chest pushed him back against the cushion.

"Next time," I said in a tone that brooked no disobedience. This time my lips reached his cock.

Charlie's cock was medium size at about six inches. I had no trouble taking his entire length. The tip was tickling the back of my mouth, but I wasn't in any danger of gagging as I began bobbing my head over his crotch rapidly. Using my hand when I needed to raise my head up to swallow spit, I alternated mouth and hand on his cock. I was hoping Charlie would come quickly and he did. I had just the head of his cock in my mouth while using my hand to rapidly stroke his shaft when Charlie stiffened and groaned he was coming. I took him deep, my lips and nose pressed hard against his pubis and moments later the first spurt of hot cum coated my throat.

I continued to suck and lick his cock as more cum hit the back of my throat until Charlie relaxed with a soft, "Ohh, damn that was good."

I tried not to let much of the cum in my mouth spill as I moved my lips slowly up the shaft until only the sensitive bulb of his cock remained in my mouth. Running my tongue over the sensitive head, I milked the shaft with my hand before raising up onto my knees. Charlie watched as I swallowed and grinned as I licked my lips. Grasping his wrist, I turned it until I could read his watch. Patting his thigh, I said, "Hate to suck and run but I need to get going. We're over our time already."

I hadn't needed to suck Charlie off. He would have been thrilled just showing me how to tie rope. But another lesson I've learned in my short time as a whore? For the big tips? Always suck and swallow...

Getting to my feet I hurried to where my clothes were draped over a chair. With no cummy mess between my legs to clean, I was able to dress quickly. Though disappointed I was leaving, most of my clients like watching me dress. I'm not usually in such a hurry and I'll take my time as they watch. Not today though. I didn't want to be late for my appointment. Finding my bra I positioned it with the hook in the front, hooked it, turned the hook to my back, quick arms up into the straps, grasped the bottom of bra, pulled out on bra, and shook my girls to rest comfortably in the cups, thumbs hooked in straps to get them straight... All finished in under six seconds.

Charlie didn't care what I wore to our sessions. He was more interested in how I wore his latest Kinbaku creation. Comfortable jeans and t-shirt, socks, exchange fuck-me stilettos for running shoes... I continued to dress quickly as we exchanged small talk about scheduling our next session. Checking my cell phone calendar, I had an open afternoon in ten days, and Charlie agreed he'd call Marla to book me. In the bathroom, I ran a brush through my hair. I was putting on a heavy coat of lipstick using the mirror when he asked if I'd do four hours. I agreed but called out, "Charlie, the lattice work looks pretty complicated. I don't think even four hours will be enough to do the photographs you'll want afterward. I'll leave my schedule open in case you want more time."

Marla would charge extra for one of her girls to be tied up (pun intended) with only one man for six hours instead of satisfying two of her clientele in that same span of time. Charlie had money so he'd pay it. I was already banking the extra money in my imagination as I exited the bathroom and got my shit together. I was in a hurry, but I didn't rush when I went to my knees and gave Charlie the special mark of excellence I reserved for only my PCs, Preferred Customers. Amazing how leaving a red kiss on the tip of a cock brought me so many repeat clients as well as fat gifts. Speaking of gifts, Charlie handed me an envelope as I was ready to open the door. I gave him a big, red kiss on the cheek. Laughing, I yelled 'Don't forget to wash your face!', as I ran down the alley towards the street.

It wasn't another client I was in a hurry to meet. I'd found a tiny efficiency apartment for rent only two blocks away from my brownstone apartment. I wanted to rent it before it was snatched up. It was very small, but the rent was well within the budget for a temp agency worker, which was what Mom and Dad thought I was doing. The apartment manager was meeting me... I checked the time and wished the taxi driver would drive faster. After cleaning the lipstick off, I opened the envelope and counted the tip Charlie had given me. I was very pleased with the number of crisp Benjamins I slipped into my multi-strap tote bag.

The place I hoped to rent would be where Mom could come to visit. No way would she believe I was making enough on a temp's salary to afford my spacious brownstone apartment. I was comfortably aware I could afford both apartments easily. I was also aware that not having to go home every night to my parent's house would make earning even more money possible.

For some months now Marla has been offering me clients at night. No pressure, just keeping me aware of the money I was turning away. Nice amounts of money for what I called Cinderella Dates because they all ended at Midnight. Anything past that and Marla negotiated the price upwards. Way upwards...

An hour later I was handed the keys to my new, newest, apartment. Tomorrow would be my nineteenth birthday and I was ready to leave the nest...

Marla was thrilled to know I'd finally made the decision to move to the city when I called her from the train taking me home. She was ready to book my first Cinderella Date for Friday! "Slow down, Marla," I laughed. "Give me a few days to move some things into my Mom Apartment first."

If Marla was thrilled, Mom wasn't when I told her and Dad that night over dinner and showed them the key and lease. My Mom immediately began listing all the reasons I shouldn't move out. I had free room and board under her roof, I could save more money for college faster if I decided on going... She choked up, got quiet, then bravely smiled and said she was going to be glad instead of sad. She'd had me at home for a whole year when all of my girlfriends from high school had already moved away or were in college. This, of course, segued to the oft-heard talk about when I was going to get a better job, go to college, meet a boy, get married, and start cranking out grandchildren for her to spoil while she was still young enough to enjoy them...

"Cut me some slack, Mom! You had me when you were my age. You're still in your thirties! I think I have a few more years to give you grandkids before you're old and decrepit. Can't I just have some fun while I'm a teenager?"


DISCREETOFFICESERVICES.COM Chapter Four

Nine Months Past...

I'd been meeting with clients for almost a month when I got a text from Marla asking for a face-to-face. Marla had been great about letting me stash newly bought clothes and shoes in boxes I was stacking in the storage closet next to her office. There was no way I could explain these expensive and very risqué clothes to my mom. Dresses showing so much bosom above and so much thigh below would have Mom reaching for a drink. Then another and another... I couldn't even imagine what she would say about my beloved black leather, knee length stiletto boots with 5-inch heels.

When I got to her office Marla didn't look happy. "Viv, I've been patient. Letting you fill my storage closet with your things. Letting you use my bathroom to put on make-up. My patience is at an end. You need to move out of my office soon! It's past time for you to have your own apartment."

"I know. I know, Marla. It's just... I can't seem to save enough money," I explained. Money seemed to flow through my fingers faster than cum through a client's dick. There was always another pair of shoes I just had to have!

Marla looked astonished. "You don't have the money!? Viv, you're sitting on an ass that I charge clients a very high price to use! A very high price of which you get a very good cut. Really, Viv, have you no self-control?"

Marla looked at me slouching in her chair and frowned. "Speaking of sitting, young lady, posture is the first thing a client notices." I sat up with my back ramrod straight and smiled guilelessly. "I thought it was my big tits men noticed first."

"Tits will get you only so far, Viv. My clients aren't paying me top dollar for common street whores! They want poise and sophistication in addition to blow jobs. It's best you begin cultivating those attributes along with your oral skills. If all a man wants is a dick sucking whore, he can find those standing on any corner of Fifth Street. If a man wants a young lady who enjoys giving oral sex, he comes to me."

Marla leaned back against her chair's back (with perfect posture, of course!) and tapped a manicured fingernail on her desk. "Viv, it's your money. I can't tell you how to spend it. But I can suggest you put together enough to get an apartment before you buy more dresses and shoes! I know exactly how much you're earning since I'm the one depositing the money into your bank account."

Marla went quiet. Considering and making a decision. "All right! Here's the deal..."

Marla pointed a slim finger at me. "By next Friday you will have an apartment. Any box in my storage room past that date gets tossed. Any makeup cluttering my bathroom gets shit canned. To help you earn enough money quickly, I have a client who wants three girls this Saturday. It's a bachelor party. A car will be outside my office at 4pm to pick you and the other girls up. The party will last until 4am Sunday morning. Needless to say, the fee you'll get for a twelve-hour party with fifteen or so men should be more than enough for you to rent any apartment you find next week."

"Fifteen!" The thought of that many men fucking me was frightening. "But, Marla, it's the weekend. I can't tell my Mom I'm working..." I began trying to weasel my way out of this 'party'.

"Don't even try, Viv." The slender finger was pointed at me again for emphasis. "Tell your mom you're doing a sleepover with a girl you met at an office you're working at or something. This one appointment on Saturday will earn you enough money that you can spend the next week apartment hunting. I mean it, Viv. Next Friday you're out of here or all those beautiful dresses and shoes cluttering up my storage closet go into a dumpster!"

"Not my shoes!"

I was horrified. It was sinking in that Marla meant every word. I had five clients scheduled between now and next Friday. But I needed cash in the bank now to go apartment hunting. If it took letting fifteen men fuck me to save my shoes... I nodded, resigned to my fate, "Okay, I'll be here Saturday."

Marla smiled. She'd won but wasn't going to gloat. "By the way, Viv, have you ever been with a woman? Have you ever wondered..."

"What? I thought you said fifteen men!"

"Fifteen or so men and two more of my girls. I'd be astonished if my client doesn't want some girl-on-girl-on-girl action at some point to entertain his guests."

"I, ahh... I thought about it a couple of times watching porn. Ah, there was this one girl in high school...," I hesitantly admitted. "But no, I've never been with a girl, you know, that way."

"I don't like the idea of sending a virgin to a job this large," Marla said thoughtfully and then smiled as she picked up her phone. After checking her iPhone's schedule book, she auto dialed a number. "Sandy? I have a client for you. Tomorrow. 10am. Female. Two hours." Marla listened for a few moments then looked at me and smiled. "She's gorgeous and, Sandy? She's a virgin. Do everything to make sure no part of her is virginal when she leaves… Thank you, Sandy. I'll text you where to meet later."

I listened to Marla's side of the conversation and my mouth dropped open when I realized that she was scheduling me as a client!

"10am, tomorrow," Marla told me in her no-nonsense voice after hanging up. "I'll text you the hotel and room number. I'll pay for Sandy and the room and deduct it from your future pay. Congratulations, Ms. Olivia. You just booked your first call girl."

The Present...

I knew something was out of the ordinary when Marla phoned to ask that I visit her office after my last client of the day. Usually, we communicate via phone and texts. Sometimes two, even three weeks might pass between visits. When Marla handed me a letter and showed me the contents of a large package, I knew I was right. There are times when even a whore just has to ask, "What... The... Fuck?" This was one of them.

The instructions in the letter which had come with the package were clear enough. I was to arrive early enough to dress and set the scene... How I was to act... But I couldn't help myself, glancing at the contents of the package again, I started laughing.

We were in Marla's office and I stopped laughing when she frowned across the desk. But I couldn't help uttering some girly giggles as I read the instructions again. "If you can't control yourself when the client is in the room, maybe I should give the appointment to another of my girls," Marla observed with the same frowny face.

Thinking of the very large fee the client had offered, I shook my head, "No. No, I can do this. It's just something I never even thought about." I looked in the package once more and pulled an item out. "I'll look like an idiot."

"Yes, well... I'm sure the money will make you feel better. Ours not to reason why and all that... Just try it on to see if it fits." Minutes later I re-entered the office. Marla looked at me then made a down motion with a finger. I got on hands and knees and at another finger command shuffled through a complete 360 turn. When next I looked, Marla had her hand over her mouth to hide a grin. She didn't laugh, but there was definite mirth in her voice as she declared that it fit me. After clearing her throat while regaining control of her facial expression, she asked, "So, do you want the assignment? It's a little later in the day than usual for you but now that you've moved into your 'Mom Apartment'," Marla air quoted, "I didn't think that would matter."

For the last four evenings, I'd busied myself moving clothes and other things from my bedroom in my parents' house into the tiny efficiency apartment that my mom and dad would think was where I lived. Mom, of course, had to drive into the city with a carload of my things to check out my new digs. She wasn't impressed. Mom would have been impressed with my other apartment, but I hoped she'd never find out about my much more spacious brownstone two blocks away. Especially what I did to earn the money that let me afford it!

My Mom Apartment was a complete lie. But so had my life been for the last ten months. My parents thought I worked office jobs through a temp agency. While technically Marla did run a temp agency out of which I worked, when I was requested to meet a client at his office I expected to be bent over a desk or to open my legs on a couch instead of opening a filing cabinet.

"I'll take it," I declared.

After changing, I took the letter of instructions and package home with me. I usually run the stairs for the cardio and to help keep my leg muscles toned. This evening I took the elevator. As soon as my door was closed behind me, I bent my knees and reached down to take off my 'fuck me' stilettos. Entering my den I took a moment to 'ahhh' and enjoy as I stretched my little piggies out on the thick, soft carpet that had cost me more money than I ever thought I'd pay for a rug. Setting the package on my coffee table, I sat on the sofa and massaged my feet. God, that felt so good...

I could easily have stretched out on the sofa and taken a nap. I was tired. I'd had three clients today. Times and distances between places we met had worked out perfectly. Going from place to place, man to man... Satisfying each of them... It was positively exhausting! It was after 5pm, past the time I told my parents I left work as an office temp. Telling my mom the plausible lie that my 'bosses' didn't like employees taking personal phone calls during working hours, I kept my phone turned off most of the day. Turning my phone on I checked for messages. One from my mom asking me to call back after work.

Hitting the auto dial, I hiked my short skirt up more and began unhooking hose from garter belt. Mom didn't want to talk about anything important. Her 'baby girl' hadn't slept in the same room she'd had since she was a baby for five nights. Mom just wanted to hear my voice. I'd just had my nineteenth birthday, but something told me I'd still be my mom's baby girl when I was forty.

Wiggling out of my dress and garter belt, I laid them on the cushion next to me and began rolling my hose down as we talked. My Mom's a talker. She'd keep me on the phone all night talking about nothing if I let her. Naked now, I padded into the kitchen with my purse. In a small drawer, I kept even smaller plastic baggies. Setting my phone to conference call so I could still hear and talk to my mom, I put the phone on the counter. Fishing between my pussy lips I found the string and pulled out the tampon I'd inserted to prevent leaking cum from wetting my dress. My dry-cleaning bill was high enough already! I dropped the tampon into a baggie and sealed it up before tossing both into the kitchen garbage can.

Washing my fingers off, "Mom, I just want to hang out in my new apartment this weekend... I have more of my stuff here than in my room now and... Okay, I'll come home for Sunday brunch..."

Remembering other duties while I was in the kitchen... The change coins in my purse I'd collected during the day and all bills less than hundreds went into the large, lacquered box I'd found at an antique shop. Opening the large, decorative metal container on the counter marked FLOUR, I tossed more hundreds on top of the pile already inside. Opening the smaller, matching decorative metal container marked SUGAR, I took out a handful of condoms and pushed them into the small, side pouch inside my purse. My clients don't usually ask for condoms but two of my clients had today. It's always best to have more than you'll need than not enough when at work.

"Fourth of July? Sure, I'll take a day off so you, me and Dad can drive to your Uncle Jimmy's on Thursday to visit for a couple of days."

Gathering my phone and clothes, I went to my bedroom and inspected each article. Dress was good, no cum stains. Sniffing the armpits, I hung it up after a quick spray of fabric freshener. My black hose showed no sign of runs but, picking with a fingernail at what might be dried cum, I shrugged and carried the hose and garter belt into the bathroom. Running warm water in the sink, I added a splash of mild soap and left the hose and belt to soak.

I completed these tasks while giving 'Yes', 'No' and 'Really?' responses as required while Mom kept rambling on. Sitting on my bed I inspected my heels and wiped them off with a Shammy before wrapping them carefully back in their box. I gave my little piggies another good rub before I played the hunger card and the need to fix something to eat as an excuse to end the call after having to give Mom a fictitious menu of what I was going to eat.

Twenty minutes later, after a quick shower to wash my hair and to give myself a good scrubbing between my thighs, I was finally where I'd wanted to be since spreading my legs for my last client... Lying in my tub, relaxing in hot water with bubbles tickling my nose. I'm in love with my huge, oversized tub. Even stretched out full length I could lie immersed in hot water without my head or feet touching the sides. I'm six feet tall, so that should give you some idea of my beloved tub's dimensions.

After adding more bath oil to the steaming water it was Inspection Time... Fingernail polish looked good for another day. Feeling my mound and pussy lips, I made a mental note to make an appointment for a waxing next week. Continuing my inspection down my body, I raised my feet until my little piggies rose up through the bubbles like two submarine periscopes. My toenail polish passed inspection. Down periscope! Dive! Dive! Dive!

After a quick shower to wash off bubbles, I ate the only thing I felt like making for my supper. I munched on Pop Tarts, drinking milk from the carton. Something Mom would have yelled at me for doing. I saw no reason to dirty a glass when milk came in its own glass. Surfing TV channels while combing out my damp hair and rubbing skin lotion on my knees and elbows, I felt a judging presence... "Don't judge me," I told Imaginary Mom who was sitting on the other side of my couch and frowning at my diet. "I know how to cook but spending all that time cooking for just one is so much trouble!" Big frown. "I'll cook something healthy tomorrow night. Promise!"

Drying my long hair while surfing TV channels and rubbing skin lotion on my knees and elbows took the last of my energy. Turning off the lights I went to bed. In the dark, lying in my bed, I couldn't help laughing when my thoughts took a weird turn. Contrasting my days of sex, cocks and cum with my nights of TV shows, Pop Tarts and an empty bed...

**********

I slept late. My first appointment wasn't until 11am. Standing at my kitchen counter I munched more Pop Tarts with my morning coffee. From a closet, I dug out the large sports bag I've had since high school when a boyfriend and I had used the excuse of learning how to play tennis at the high school tennis courts as a reason to slip away from parental supervision.

Tennis wasn't what I was interested in learning about at the time. Instead, we studied senior year level biology and anatomy under the bleachers of the high school football field. I couldn't help smiling as I remembered those lessons while trying to stay quiet and hidden from those around us who were using the athletic field for non-sexual activities. But I had other things to do today that required my boobs and pussy. Everything I needed for my special afternoon client fit inside the bag.

I wouldn't have time to come back to my apartment between appointments. I'd need to take the bag with me while meeting my morning client. Deciding to continue the sports theme I put on what would pass as clothes for tennis. Not wearing a bra would have to supply my nod to sexy. If anyone asked, I could claim I had a tennis date after my business meeting with Tim.

Except for our first time together, Tim and I had always met in hotel rooms. I already had an appointment scheduled for next week to meet him again. His phone call to Marla yesterday to ask for me on such short notice had come out of nowhere. I already had a morning client booked but when Tim offered triple my usual fee, Marla had moved another of her girls to cover the other appointment. I didn't mind the extra fee, but I thought meeting at his office was a bit strange if he wanted enough sex to make that amount of money worthwhile.

What was also a surprise was instructions for me to remember to pass myself off as a prospective German investor who needed legal advice. That would be easy. My height and blonde hair proclaimed to anyone looking that I had some Nordic heritage. Turns out I have quite a knack for languages, too. Surprised the hell out'a me since I rarely studied in high school, but after three years of taking German classes for the easy C grade, I had a decent command of the spoken and written language.

"Guten Tag, Frau Phillips. Ich habe ein Treffen mit... Sorry, I say I have meeting with Timothy Duncan."

"Yes, Fräulein Fälschung. One second..." Fälschung was my private joke when I was passing as German. It translated to 'fake' in English. Many clients I met at their office wanted people to think I was something other than an American whore there to give the boss a nooner.

Ms. Phillips dialed Tim to tell him, "Your eleven o'clock is here".

Tim appeared and I was struck by the change in his behavior from our previous meetings. Nervous, eyes darting everywhere and... I could smell the alcohol on his breath. He greeted me and then surprised me again by inviting Ms. Phillips to come with us and to bring her Notary Stamp. I wasn't sure what the hell was going on. I wasn't sure what elaborate fantasy Tim was acting out. Did he want Ms. Phillips to join us in a threesome? I looked at her for the first time as a potential sex partner. Not quite to my taste but I'd done worse. I went with the flow. I've gotta keep the client happy, after all.

I spoke in broken English and 'forgot' at times, slipping into German to ask, 'Where is the nearest train station?' and other nonsense. I played along and signed papers as Tisla Fälschung, the name I used meeting clients at their offices. The papers seemed to be written in German, but I didn't have time for more than a glance before Tim would have me signing another. I thought this was taking play acting to the extreme.

Once Tim decided enough papers had been signed and notarized, he made a pretense of looking at his watch and informing Ms. Phillips she could go on to lunch. He wouldn't be needing her. He was going to answer any questions 'Fräulein Fälschung might have,' before going to lunch himself. No threesome after all... Once the door had closed behind Ms. Phillips, Tim collapsed onto the couch on which we'd had our first fuck. Agitated, he got up almost as soon as he was seated. Going to his desk he brought out a bottle of scotch and a glass out of the top drawer. Knocking back a shot he slumped heavily onto his chair behind the desk. This was not the Tim I was used to meeting.

"Tim, what the hell is wrong with you? What's going on?" I asked.

"I'm fucked. I'm so fucking fucked. I really thought I could do it, Viv. I thought I'd be long gone before anyone found out."

"Do what? Go where? Why am I here? Signing papers?" If anyone looked less likely to want a Nooner it was Tim as he knocked back more scotch.

Tim's voice was slow but not slurred by alcohol. "I needed someone I could trust. God help me, between my family and my co-workers, I can't think of a single, fucking one I can trust." Tim looked at me with sad eyes. "Does that tell you what a complete fuck up my life is? I trust a call girl more than my own wife..."

Tim put his hands over his eyes and, Fuck Me!, he started crying! I'd never had any experience of seeing a man cry. Tim wasn't sobbing but when his hands fell to his desk his cheeks were wet and tears ran down his face into his salt-and-pepper mustache. I went to his side, put my hand on his shoulder and gave him a good shake, "Tim... Timmy! What's wrong? Tell me! What the fuck is going on?"

"Call me Timmy again, Viv. I loved it when you did that." Tim closed his eyes and smiled sadly, "I haven't been called Timmy by anyone after my Mother died..."

God help me he's breaking down again, I thought as I watched fresh tears well up in his eyes. Forgetting the glass Tim took sips straight from the bottle.

"Timmy, please tell me what's wrong," I begged, shaking his shoulder harder.

"I just wanted out, Viv," Tim said in a voice that pleaded with me to understand. "Out of this job. Out of my marriage. Out of my fucked up life! I was going to take the money and run to somewhere far away. Live the rest of my life in peace. Now it's all gone... They know, Viv. They don't say anything, of course, but I know they know. Yesterday my briefcase was searched when I left it in my office to attend a meeting. I'm sure my office was searched last night. But they couldn't get into my safe," Tim said in with a note of triumph in his tone. "I screwed those assholes by changing the combination. But it's only a matter of time before they make me open it! Probably today! Fucking bastards!" Tim picked up the bottle again.

"I'm dead, Viv," Tim repeated again and slumped back in his chair, defeated. He muttered while more scotch went past his lips, "I'm a real walking dead man. The people I stole from... They don't forgive. Even if I gave back the money... But, they won't get the money back! The way I hid it? Not a goddamn dime!" Tim sounded victorious at this thought, straightening up in his chair, but then he slumped back again, defeated.

"Viv, you're the only one I can trust. They wouldn't have tipped their hand by searching my briefcase yesterday if they weren't going to move. I should have run last night but everything was in my safe! I couldn't take the chance they'd search me when I left yesterday after work! The mail room here... They'll look at anything I mail. I just know I'll be searched today before I take two steps towards the outside door. But I'm gonna show those bastards!"

Agitated again, Tim opened the center drawer of his desk and took out a thick envelope. Picking up the file binder where he'd placed the papers I'd signed and others, he put the envelope inside the binder and tried putting the binder in my hand. "Viv, take it! Find a mailbox somewhere and mail the letter as soon as you can! Don't open the envelope, just mail it. I put enough in there to nail these assholes to the wall! I've worked here over twenty-five years. I know where all the skeletons are buried!"

Tim kept thrusting the binder at me until I took it. He began telling me to put it in my bag. "Mail the letter, Viv! And the other papers? Never let anyone know what you have! No one, Viv. Promise me! Mail the letter and keep the papers secret! Promise me, Viv!"

"I promise, Timmy." Hell, I'd promise anything to get out of this madhouse. I opened my bag and pushed the thick binder inside. Tim took a couple of steps towards his office door, no doubt wanting me to leave, then he stopped.

"Viv, be careful. If you figure it out, be very careful. If you can't figure it out... Burn them. Toss 'em away."

"Figure what out, Tim?"

"I'm so sorry to get you involved but I needed those papers out of my safe and the letter mailed. Took me forever to think of a way to hide... No matter, now. But I can't take the chance I'll be searched leaving the building and the papers taken. If you figure it out, have a wonderful life, Viv. Don't end up like me! Wait. Wait, Viv," Tim called out as if just remembering something.

I watched as he went to his knees behind his desk. Tim pulled a fake, wooden file door open to reveal a steel safe door. I heard him mutter, 'I'll show those assholes!' again while dialing the combination. When the lock disengaged he pulled the door open and told me to bring my bag over. I put my bag next to him and my mouth dropped open as bundle after bundle of money came out of the safe to be stuffed into my bag. Tim was stuffing too fast for me to keep count, but there was a shitload of bundles.

"I put money aside. Money my fucking family didn't know about. I can pay you for getting you involved. For mailing the letter," Tim told me, as he pushed the mass of bills deeper into the bag until he could get the zipper closed. "Think of it as your severance pay! I'd rather you have it than those goddamned vultures I have as a family. Fucking kids won't even talk to me unless they're asking for money.

"I'm dead, Viv. But I'm gonna screw 'em all. There's enough in the letter to put my fucking partners in jail and those I stole from won't get a penny back," Tim laughed as he stood up. I didn't have experience with dealing with crying, laughing, crazy men. Wherever Tim was at in his mind, I never wanted to go there.

"Years in jail and not a penny," Tim repeated in triumph, then grabbed my forearms, "I'm a dead man but I screwed them all! You've been the only good thing in my life the last few months, Viv. I would have tried to take you with me. If you figure it out, I hope you have the life I wish I'd had."

As quickly as triumph had flooded Tim's voice, now only sadness. "Time to go, Viv," Tim told me. "I'm sorry you're involved, but I had no one else. No one! What a fucked-up mess my life is..." Tim said slowly. "If you figure it out promise me you'll have fun with your life. Don't let your life end like mine." I thought Tim was gonna break down and cry again, but he pulled himself together. Gripping the long bill of my tennis cap, he pulled it low over my eyes.

"Keep your head down and don't let 'em follow you," were Tim's last words as he pushed me out of his office. I heard the door lock engage behind me.

I was confused beyond flabbergasted. But I kept my head down and took the stairs to the lobby. Leaning against the wall in the stairwell I tried but could make neither heads-nor-tails out of Tim's behavior. Staring at my bag I wondered what the fuck was in there. If I'd taken the elevator I might have already been in a taxi and away before...

Instead, Tim got to the sidewalk before I did.

The screams had stopped but out of the buzz of voices, I gleaned what had happened, as I stared at the legs that were all I could see between two parked cars. I looked up and counted floors to the broken window. I knew whose office was on that floor. I should have stayed, told the police what I knew. Olivia would have. But Viv wanted to get the fuck out of there! Too many questions to answer and too many truths to admit if Viv stayed.

I turned and walked away. I didn't think of going in any particular direction. I just walked. The heavy bag suspended from my shoulder finally reminded me that I had a destination I should be going towards. I turned in the direction of the hotel and then remembered what Tim had said. 'Don't let 'em follow you.' Paranoia moved into my vacant, confused brain.

I had plenty of time to make my next appointment. Tim hadn't kept me for even an hour. I had time to go back to my apartment and drop off what Tim had asked me to carry out of his building. I was trying to flag down a taxi when my paranoia flared up again. I thought of the police. Taxi drivers kept logs of when and where they picked up fares and the destinations they took them to. Ms. Phillips would give the police my name and description. A name that they'd learn was fictitious. I imagined the police asking a taxi driver, 'Did you pick up a tall blonde with a large bag and where did you take her?'

Taxi cabs were out. The hotel my next appointment was in was far closer than my apartment. I'd hoof it to my next appointment. But every block I walked closer to the hotel, I took more notice of how many cameras there were. Traffic cameras. Store cameras watching the sidewalk in front of the store... Cameras were everywhere! With nowhere else to go, I kept my head down and tried to hide my face as much as possible with the bill of my cap. So I continued towards the hotel, my every step recorded into computer memory somewhere. It would take time for someone to follow my trail that way. I just needed someplace I could go and hide out for a few quiet hours, while sorting out what the fuck was happening.

I knew the hotel's layout from previous occasions of meeting clients there. Entering from the pool's entrance allowed me to bypass the front desk. I kept my head down and went straight to the room via the stairs. Whoever had set up this tryst had paid for a room long enough to have included a key card with the letter of instructions.

Once in the room I headed straight for the mini-bar and poured the contents of the first bottle my hand touched into a glass. Tossing it past my tongue and down my throat without swallowing, I savored the burn. A second shot followed. Oh, fuck. Bourbon and vodka mixed! That's gonna bite me in the ass soon, I thought, when I looked at the bottles on the counter while feeling the two shots burning in my stomach. I shrugged and played bottle roulette again, not looking at what the third bottle contained before pouring it into the glass and tossing it back.

I wasn't drunk but I was definitely feeling calmer when it was time to set the stage for what was to come. I kept expecting a knock on the door by my imaginary pursuers, but as time passed I began chiding myself for being paranoid over nothing. But then I'd imagine people looking for the tall blonde who'd been the last to see Tim. People who'd scared Tim so badly he'd committed suicide. I needed a way to throw people off my track. Off the track of a tall blonde carrying a large bag. I needed a way to disappear in a city filled with damned cameras before I went anywhere near my apartment.

Hollywood might have you believe that six-foot tall blondes are a dime a dozen. We're not. Especially when we're carrying around a large sports bag. I'd stand out immediately in any camera recording. I wasn't normally one who lived in a world of paranoid delusions. But I had experience being a young teen wanting to disappear from parental eyes. For several months I'd been living a dual life. Becoming adept at lies and deception. I began thinking... By the time I started to set the stage following my client's instructions, I had the bare bones of a plan formed. All I needed was a few more hours of undiscovered freedom and to please my client so Marla wouldn't have cause to suspect anything out of the ordinary from my behavior.

I kept replaying everything which had happened in Tim's office. What had I touched? Were my fingerprints even now in the system? Ready to bite me in the ass if I was ever arrested in the future and my prints were run... Tim had held the door open for me coming and going... I touched the papers I'd signed but they were in my bag... I hadn't even sat down while following Tim about the room. If I'd touched anything I couldn't think of it. Paranoia strikes deep. I dug out the small bottles of liqueur I'd tossed into the trash and they and the glass I'd touched went into my bag. I wiped the door handles to the room and anything else I might have touched. I kept my hands to myself afterwards.

Setting out full water and food bowls and the bag of treats where my 'mate' would be sure to find it, I changed into my costume. When my mate opened the door to our room, I was curled up on the bed. My instructions were to remain curled up on the bed with my face away from the door and pretend I was asleep until my mate woke me up. Also, I wasn't to speak when he woke me. I heard the person unlock the door and move around the part of the room I couldn't see.

When he 'woke' me, it was by pawing at and sniffing my furry ass. I was surprised to see he had put on a mask and cosplay attire much like mine. Growling, spitting and hissing, I followed instructions and fought back hard enough that my fake claws left red streaks on his skin. I finally let him pin me to the bed and yowled like a cat in heat as he mounted me through the slit cut in the costume.

Really? Ya just gotta ask yourself sometimes... What kind of life are you living when getting fucked as a cat is the least weird part of your day?

Both of us acted like cats for our remaining time... Neither of us saying a word. Meows and body language our only communication. Crawling on hands and knees about the room. Pretending to eat and drink from the bowls I'd set out. Grooming each other with our paws. We took turns feeding each other the treats in the bag. Tasted like cut up pepperoni. I certainly hoped it was pepperoni and I wasn't eating real cat kibble!

My grooming of the man behind his mask was concentrated on rubbing furry paws over a dick that would grow hard quickly under my stroking. The man behind the other cat mask was certainly turned on by having his furry dream come true, mounting me twice more when my grooming paws had hardened his dick again. We'd screech and yowl and fight until I surrendered to be mounted again.

I followed the last instructions and, curled up on the bed once more, pretended to sleep as the man moved unseen about the room again. Only after hearing the sound of the room's door closing did I move. I didn't take time to clean the fur of cum. I just pushed my costume back into the bag on top of the cash I hadn't counted yet. I didn't want to even think about anything connected with Tim and what he'd done.

Examining myself in the bathroom mirror I knew a damp washcloth wasn't going to be enough. Three cum loads had been left inside me without my having a chance to clean. I saw the reflection of dried and drying cum smeared from pussy lips to knees in the mirror. After getting the temperature as hot as I could stand, careful not to get my hair wet, I stepped into the shower. The shower head could be detached from the wall. I pushed two fingers of one hand as far into my pussy as I could before scissoring them open. My other hand directed the water stream from the shower head up my pussy gape. After douching my pussy as clean of cum as I could, I turned off the water and exited the shower. Only after I was dry with a tampon inserted to stop any future cum drips did I continue to dress. I simply refused to contemplate going home with 'cat cum' spotting my panties. The tip money I'd found in an envelope on the bed next to me when I 'woke' went into my jeans pocket.

I wiped down everything I'd touched or might have touched in the hotel room and bathroom. One good thing about being a cat was I wasn't leaving behind cum stains. All our sex had dribbled down my thighs and was inside my cat costume. Wearing cat paws meant no fingerprints. Hopefully all I'd leave behind at the hotel would be fuzzy camera recordings of a woman with a long-billed cap hiding her face.

Once dressed I left the hotel for the nearest subway stop. There was nothing I could do if someone at a later date used camera recordings to follow my path. I didn't try to hide. I kept my head down and walked. Taking the subway that let me off close to a train station far away from my apartment, I got on the next train and rode it past my normal stop. I left the train two stops past my parent's house. I had about fourteen miles to walk. I would gladly have gone twice that distance because, away from the city, I could walk those miles completely out of the view of any cameras. Yeah, you better believe I was paranoid by now... I just hoped I was being paranoid enough.

Keeping off the main roads, I walked on neighborhood streets. For the first time in hours, I began to relax among familiar suburban sights and sounds. Kids tossing footballs, chasing each other in games they'd made up. Sounds of lawnmowers coming from several directions... I hadn't realized how keyed up I'd been until the tension began to leave my muscles. Thanking God I was wearing running shoes instead of my usual stilettos, I stretched out my long legs and began eating up the miles. It wasn't yet fully dark when the neighborhoods became familiar. My childhood friends and I had ridden bicycles all over these streets. Taking memorized shortcuts through backyards, I was outside my parents' house just as the streetlights began coming on.

My parents were glad to see me. Home is where you're never turned away. My mom gave me a hug. Though her eyes narrowed in a disapproving look when she felt I wasn't wearing a bra, she didn't say anything in front of Dad. I said I'd gotten lonely in my apartment and on the spur of the moment had decided to come visit. Mom immediately began pulling leftovers from the refrigerator. Piling more food than I'd eaten in the last two days onto a plate, she put it into the microwave.

Dad eyed the large bag I'd set on the table and grumpily asked what was in it... If I was moving back in. "Just got rid of your skinny ass. If you move back in, I can't chase your mom around the house nak..."

I stuck my fingers in my ears, "La,La,La,La,La!! No, no, no,I don't want to hear this. Crap! Now I've got this picture of you two in my brain! I need psychotherapy!"

Dad just laughed. Mom blushed but I noticed she didn't deny anything. Eww...

I said it was just dirty laundry before my brain was fully engaged. Bad move! A terrible thing to say, I realized, as Mom grabbed the strap, saying she'd do it. I grabbed the strap also and we engaged in a tug-of-war. Mom saying it was no trouble and I saying I was an independent woman now and I'd do my own laundry. Mom finally let go of the strap while Dad was still chortling at my description of myself as an 'independent woman'.

"Well, Miss Independent, I see you're not too independent to turn down our food," Dad said as the microwave beeped.

"I'm independent, Dad. Not stupid," I said, as my stomach rumbled at the thought of food, any food that wasn't more Pop-Tarts.

A quiet evening of chess and watching TV with homemade milkshakes was just what I needed after my day. Dad had a metabolism that allowed him to drink shakes every night without gaining a pound. I'd inherited that same genetic quirk. Mom sat quietly, no doubt in anticipation of the day when Dad would gain weight at just the thought of ice cream like she did. As for me? "Just wait till you have kids! Then we'll see how much ice cream you can eat then," she gloated.

The next morning I changed into different clothes. I'd left behind many outfits in my closet more suitable for Winter wear. It was cool enough in the early morning that what I wore wasn't going to draw attention. My hair bunched under a hat... Large sunglasses... I stuffed the sports bag into a rolling suitcase. Outfitted for maximum camouflage, I rode the train and slouched back into the city.

With my apartment door closed and locked behind me, I let out a huge sigh of relief. Tim had warned me not to be followed. I had no doubt that I'd thrown anyone who might try following my trail completely off my track.

I hoped...