Flesh For Fantasy. Joan Elizabeth Lloyd
You fill me up so well, baby. I raise up and drop, over and over, fucking you so good. Do you want to come now? I’m almost ready.” With his eyes closed, Frank groaned. Maggie rubbed her foot along the length of his cock under the tablecloth.
“I’m almost ready. Almost. Wait for me, baby.” Maggie was so turned on by her description of Frank’s fantasy that if she reached under the table and touched herself, she would come. But she didn’t.
“Yes, baby,” she said. “I’m coming now. You can feel my pussy squeezing your cock. Come with me.”
“Yes,” Frank groaned. Then his eyes flew open. “No.” He pushed Maggie’s foot from his lap. “Not here.”
“No. Not here,” Maggie said. “But I need a trip to the ladies’ room first.” To remove her pantyhose. When she returned, Frank was waiting for her with her coat in his hands. “My hotel is just around the corner.”
Maggie slipped her arms into the sleeves. “Good,” she said. “I find I’m in a bit of a hurry.”
“Are you sure you’re not a professional at this? No offense.”
“No offense taken. And no, I’m not a pro.”
“Well, you should be. I’ve been with my share of professional entertainers and no one holds a candle to you.”
As they walked out of the restaurant, Maggie asked, “You’ve been with call girls?”
“Sure. Sometimes the company provides entertainment for the out-of-town reps. And not one of them could come close to the way you turn me on. That little story back there…” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “Holy shit.”
“I enjoy turning men on. I dated a lot before I met Bob, and then he taught me about fantasy and lots of variations on straight sex. I love it all.”
“You should get paid for it.”
“How much do call girls make?”
“The classy ones like you make hundreds a night.”
“Hundreds of dollars?” Maggie gasped.
They turned the corner and approached Frank’s hotel. “Sure. I know a few people and I could introduce you.”
“Hmmm.”
Maggie looked at Barbara. “The evening went exactly like the fantasy we had created.” She took a drink from her coffee cup. “And he introduced me to someone who introduced me to someone else and, as they say, the rest is history.”
“Wow.”
“Yes. Wow. And I entertained men for twenty years.”
“Did you ever have any bad experiences? You read about hookers getting beaten up and stuff.”
“I had one or two men who didn’t get the message when I told them to knock it off, but I know how to defend myself and I seldom take chances. All the men I entertain, er…entertained—it’s so hard for me to think of myself in the past tense. The men I entertained were all recommended, lonely business types who just wanted someone to have some fun with. You know, do the things they wouldn’t do with their wives.”
“Like?”
“Mostly oral sex and anal sex. Some were into power fantasies, both giving and receiving and a few were into pain.”
“You mean like whips?”
“I slapped a few men on the ass, but I never did whips because I can’t get pleasure out of that. Heavy pain is such a turn-off for me that I made it clear I wouldn’t play those games. But most other things were as exciting for me as they were for the men I was with.”
“That’s amazing.”
Maggie looked at her watch. “It’s getting late. Get your pocketbook and your credit cards and we’re off to shop.”
Barbara stood up. “I can’t wait.”
Chapter
4
“Now this doesn’t mean I’m going to jump into someone’s bed so fast,” Barbara said under her breath as they walked into the Galleria Mall in White Plains. “You can’t make a silk purse and all that.”
“Let’s first get you dressed and looking like the attractive woman you are,” Maggie said. As they walked, the few shoppers they saw walked around Barbara but seemed unaware that Maggie was there. “You know,” Maggie said, turning to stare at a woman with a stroller who had just missed bumping into her, “I don’t think anyone can see me.”
“But I can see you just fine,” Barbara said.
They walked passed a large clothing store and paused in front of a mirrored section of wall. “I can see us both,” Barbara said as Maggie dodged to avoid a mother pushing a blue-and-white stroller.
“It’s really weird,” Maggie said. “I’m here. I can see me.” She rubbed her arms. “I can feel me, hear me. You can, too. But to judge by the people walking by, I don’t exist.”
“But you do exist,” Barbara said.
“Mommy,” a little girl said as she passed, “why is that woman talking to herself?”
“Let’s go, darling,” the mother said, hustling the tot off. “It’s not nice to talk about…”
As the woman’s voice faded, Maggie said, “We better be careful. People will think you’re nuts.”
As they strolled around the mall, getting the lay of the land, Barbara was careful not to speak to Maggie where anyone might overhear. Together the two women stopped periodically so Maggie could show Barbara outfits and shoes that would fit her new image. With Maggie steering, the two walked toward a hair salon called Expert Tresses. “We really should start with your hair.”
“I like my hair,” Barbara said, reflexively tucking a strand behind her ear. “It’s easy and comfortable.”
Maggie raised an eyebrow. “Easy and comfortable. Two of the most awful adjectives I can think of.” She stopped and turned Barbara to face her. She peered at a section of hair just above her right temple. “What’s this? The roots are white here.”
“I was hoping we could overlook that. It’s a white streak. My mother used to call it a witch’s mark.”
“You dye it?”
“My mother started doing that for me when I was a kid. It’s just dyed to match the rest of my hair.”
“It’s sexy as hell. I want you to get someone to style this mop,” Maggie said, staring at Barbara’s soft, medium-brown hair. “And get the dye out of that section.”
“But it’s unlucky and creepy. I won’t.”
“Barbara, baby. It’s unique and beautiful and it looks great. Your mother was a wonderful lady, but in this one instance, she was wrong. Please. Cooperate. Try this.”
“No.”
“Look,” Maggie said, guiding Barbara into a small alcove. “Do this for me and for this project. Let someone do your hair. My way. Then give it one week. If you don’t like it, you can dye it back. Okay? Please. I have a job to do here.”
When Barbara hesitated, Maggie continued. “And get your nails done, too.”
“But…”
Maggie put a hand in the small of Barbara’s back and pushed, aiming her toward Expert Tresses. Since the salon was almost empty, three women walked toward her as she walked in. “May we help you?”
“I need a haircut,” Barbara said.
“You want it styled,” Maggie said, knowing that no one else could hear.
“I