Dallas Mayo - For women only

So it appeared. Fascinated by my "kissable" lips and interested to the point of romance. Which would mean just a sneaky affair, I figured – or perhaps only an out-of-town motel weekend – the standard game-plan for a married man. I expected no more than that. And I was ready to give my all, my comparatively inexperienced all, for such a cause. Laid by the boss, imagine! Wouldn't that be a boost up the ladder to success? Besides, after dallying with some of the lower-caste office dullards, I was pretty eager to spread my wings and soar a little. Wasn't that why I had come to the big city in the first place, to try the things I'd never tried before? It would be an experience to savor, something to look back upon in later years. Like a night with a matinee idol. Or a rock star. Or a hit man for the Mafia. Well, something like that. Only this guy, my guy – Simon Beresford, the thick-lips freak – was more important than such lesser mortals. Sexier, too, from what I gathered. Oh yes, I was eager…

And so was he, as it turned out. We made it in my own apartment, of all places, hardly a romantic love-bower. But romance would only have cluttered up our lives at that point – or any point, for that matter – what with so much else on our minds. How that man loved my lips! I was good to him, of course, a little girl with a big mouth, a so-called "generous" mouth, stretching my generosity to encompass his every need. One need, mainly. A bit difficult at first, but a cinch after that, once I got the timing down pat. It was a genuine pleasure after our third or fourth date; how my lips loved that man! I even found a perverse enjoyment in my ability to tease him, to control his excitement, delaying each climax until the last possible instant. And then, glub, it would ail be over for a while and we would relax and talk about ourselves, about our affair, its chances for survival. Good chances, as far as Simon was concerned. He had struck it rich with me, apparently, and was becoming more possessive with every rendezvous.

"You'd make a great mistress, baby. Great for me, that's for sure. Those hot lips of yours…"

"It's not just my lips. I'm learning too, you know. I learn more whenever you come over. I'm still just a beginner."

"Some beginner. I wish my wife could suck cock like that."

"Does she? You know…"

"Huh?"

"Your wife. Does she suck at all?"

"Not any more. We don't even sleep together."

"Too bad. I'm glad, though. I wouldn't want anybody filling in for me, not even your lawful wedded wife. Not that I'm worried, I'll have you know. With the practice I'm getting, I ought to be the world's champion cocksucker pretty soon."

"Rory baby, you're the champ right now. You want to hear something wild? I even bragged about you at home – to Julia, I mean. I told her…"

"No! You didn't. You couldn't have! I thought she didn't know anything about me. You-you told your wife?"

"Not exactly. She found it out herself somehow. It was just last week, maybe the week before. And she's been needling me ever since. So I just needled her back, that's all."

"And that's all you do about it, just needle each other? No fights? Doesn't she get mad? Oh shit, I'll bet she'd like to tear my hair out by the [missing text]."

"Could be. But we're civilized, honey, we'll settle it without violence. In fact, it's already settled. Our marriage has to be preserved for the sake of the business, but aside from that, well, no strings attached. Julia has her friends, I have mine. And as long as we're discreet about it…"

"Oh. So now I'm not a secret any more. And neither is this place, my apartment, it's not so private now. I don't like that, Simon, it makes me uncomfortable."

"Hush now, take it easy. There's a silver lining. The way it's working out, maybe I can pick up your tab for the rent from now on. That ought to cheer you up. A steady deal?"

"You darling man! Just for that… mmm…"

"Hey!"

"Let me, let me."

"So who's stopping you? It's all yours. See? Come on, hot lips, earn your keep."

"Nnngg."

"Little cocksucker…"

It seemed almost ludicrous. Me, little Rory Mitchell, a kept woman? A rich man's mistress! Shouldn't a new image go with the job? I'm a kept woman! I wanted to dye ray hair, change my makeup, let my nails grow, maybe even enroll in some charm school. But no, I didn't do any of those. Simon decided that I ought to go on working at Consolidated – and without even a raise in pay – "so it shouldn't look too suspicious." (Businessman's talk, real pompous!) Which ruled out even minor alterations, much less a drastic overhaul. So I played my discreet role and remained unchanged, unglamorous, my natural sweet self. Sandy hair, a mop, all close-clipped curls. About the color of salt water taffy. Not bad, actually, since it went quite nicely with my eyes, hazel, kind of brown with a reddish-yellow tinge. Nice but dull, the whole effect, hardly spectacular enough for a girl in my position. Except that my lips must have compensated for all that, at least in the opinion of the boss, my lover-man. And who else mattered? He was paying the rent now and keeping the liquor cabinet stocked – sometimes even the refrigerator – a good provider, certainly. I was beginning to save a little money, feathering my nest for some future rainy day. If and when he got bored with me, I'd have something to fall hack on.

That was bound to happen, I figured. A guy like that had too many other opportunities, too many willing bed-partners within easy range. Pretty ones, prettier than me. Time would tell. Although he showed no signs of it as yet, no hint of any inclination to forgo ray loving lips and perhaps trade me in for a newer and more fully equipped model. Quite the contrary! More and more, he seemed eager for that peculiar kiss of mine, evidently satisfied with his choice of a mistress, his thick-lipped little cocksucker, an unseasoned but already prodigious freak. Oh, I was good, all right. Maybe even too good, in view of my own gradually changing attitude.

Uh-huh. The anticipated boredom cropped up, sure enough, only in reverse. I wasn't even aware of it at first, just vaguely irritated for no reason at all. The routine, perhaps? A very definite routine – the same nights each week, the same allotted time, the same preliminary drink and chat before getting down to the nitty-gritty; all so predictable! Did we have to stick to a schedule. Couldn't he switch nights unexpectedly and try to screw me up just once, catch me with my pants down maybe, act like a jealous lover?

No, not my Simon, he wasn't the type for jealousy. Too sure of himself. Too sure of me! Enough to take me for granted – which grated on my nerves, naturally, but only in passing. What the hell, I was being paid for it, wasn't I? He probably knew darn well that I spent my "off" nights bathing and shaving and generally grooming my girlish young body just for him. Not that he ever noticed it much. He just liked to see me lick my lips, that was his idea of grooming. And that was what finally rubbed my nerves raw. The one-track-mind dedication to that same old nitty-gritty. Just once, just out of sheer deviltry, couldn't he do the unexpected? Never mind screwing me up, just screw; me! Even a simple fuck would have seemed deliciously novel. And any more daring twist would have been heavenly, a divine inspiration. Anything but that same old routine blow-job! Even the world's champion cocksucker needed a change of pace now and then. There were moments when I seriously considered picking up some hunk of muscle – an unknown quantity, please? – from the nearest neighborhood bar. Only it would be just my luck to lick my juicy lips at the wrong time and wind up with another mouthful of cock. On my knees in some dark hallway, like as not. I wouldn't dare bring such a prospect home with me. A rich man's mistress? That dark hallway would be the lesser risk. Just something to alleviate the boredom…