Gale Grayson - Door-to-door sex-girl

So it wasn't so strange, then, that Virginia Brooks was at such a loss when her washing machine broke down. God! What a rotten thing to have to happen to me – especially right now, when we're so broke! Leon gets his clothes so dirty at the service station, with all that oil and grease, and I have to keep up on all the dirty things in the house… the bed sheets, towels and the underwear…!

Leon suggested that she take the necessary things out to a laundromat until he could find the time to take a look at the machinery inside the washer. "One thing I know for sure is that we can't afford to have it fixed, or buy another one!"

Virginia used the laundromat a couple of times but it was time-consuming. Desperately, she figured that at least she should be able to pay for the repairs from her earnings. The repairman came and pronounced it unrepairable, as spare parts for that model were no longer available. "What you ought to do is come on down to the store and take a look at our new models. We're having a sale that'll save you almost fifty dollars if you buy this week!" Of course, he charged her the full price for his service call.

That was the beginning of her foolishness; she did go down to the appliance store, looked at the gleaming new machines on display, and ended up buying one. She paid for it with money she had collected from her customers, money she knew was not hers, but which she felt certain she would be able to replace before having to make her sales report to Arthur Hartman.

And, that was why she was so terrified. Arthur had come around once already, and she had been able to put him off by explaining that she hadn't made all of her collections as yet, that she'd have it all ready for him the following week.

Hartman had been perturbed. "You know, of course, that I can't fill this order for you," he'd told her, waving the order blank, "until I've collected from you for the last one!"

Virginia's heart skipped a beat. She suddenly felt boxed-in. If I can't deliver my orders, I can't collect! And she knew that even on the total of her orders, her commission wouldn't cover the amount she owed Mr. Hartman now. God! What can I do?

She begged him to relent, just this one time, and let her have the merchandise.

Hartman thought about it. His eyes roamed over her, seeing her obvious agitation. Somehow she had mismanaged the company's money. She hasn't admitted it yet, but that's what's going to come out! His deep-set black eyes picked out the full voluptuousness of her proudly upthrust breasts outlined under her housedress, and the swelling curve of her hips that blended into the soft taper of her white thighs, a goodly expanse of which he could see from where he sat opposite her. She had a rather pretty face, too, with wide-set deep blue eyes, a little snub of a nose, and full sensual lips; her teeth were fine, small, white and even, and he couldn't help deciding that she was one hell of a beautiful woman.

Right then, he decided to go along with her imploring request that he extend her credit for another week. Hell! It could be well worth it! His eyes swept over her again, and he knew it would be. In his mind's eye he saw her stripped naked before him, while below his interest was evidenced by the crawling lift of his testicles and the swift pulsating rise to alert erection of his penis. But, I'll wait, damn it! This time next week, she'll have to come up with the money… or else…

"Okay, I'll let you have the stuff!" he agreed.

"Oh, how can I ever thank you enough?"

She didn't catch his covert, lewd smile, as he told her, "Save that for next week – and remember that both orders have to be paid for then!"

The week had been hectic for her. She had scurried about madly selling Eko-Klean, and as she added up figures, using all of her commission, she was still one hundred and ninety-eight dollars short.

A frantic call to her parents in Colorado Springs had resulted in a loving but firm refusal. Her folks just didn't have the money to lend her. She knew that it would be out of the question to ask the same thing of Leon's parents, especially without her husband's knowledge, for she had led Leon to believe that she had bought the new washing machine from her commissions. She hadn't exactly lied to him, but she had bent the truth just a little.

Now things were all coming to a roistering boil. Her week was up. She was short almost two hundred dollars… and Arthur Hartman was due to show up at any time.

Her mind was absolute chaos. She had no idea what she was going to tell Mr. Hartman. She toyed with the idea of leaving the house and not returning until late… not answering the door at all… But, maybe if I just told him the truth he'd let me make it up a little at a time… God! Things are so mixed up and I'm in a terrible fix!

Time had run out for Virginia. It was ten-thirty Friday morning, and right on time she heard Mr. Hartman's car in the driveway, the slam of its door and the jangle of her front door bell. Hastily she dabbed away the tears that had brimmed her eyelids and trickled down her cheeks unnoticed as she had sat almost catatonically waiting for this dreaded moment, imagining all sorts of ugly scenes with her sponsor, feeling like a condemned prisoner during the last few moments before he is led away to his place of execution.

Putting on a bright smile, she opened the door with a leaden heart and greeted him lightly. "Oh, hello, Mr. Hartman. You're right on time."

His somber, black eyes lighted up in his rather long face, dominated by a large, patrician-straight nose, below which a long upper lip curled in a smile. His once-black hair was graying and thinning on top.

"Good morning, Mrs. Brooks," he greeted her. "Yes, I always try to be on time for my appointments."

Not waiting for her invitation, he headed for a comfortable chair in her living room. Virginia followed with trembling knees, knowing that there was no escape from telling him the exact truth and owning up to having made a serious mistake.

Hartman eased his tall, thin, slightly stooped frame into the overstuffed chair opposite the couch and asked, "Well, how did your sales go this week?"

"Very good…" She hesitated for an instant before going on, "but I-I don't have all the money I owe you…"

His good-natured smile was misleading. "Get your account book, and I'll go over it with you, okay?"

With a gloating smile of anticipation, Arthur watched her cross the room to a small kneehole desk to get her sales book. Her smooth, rounded buttocks moved under her dress with a sexily unconscious undulation, and his hands itched to get hold of them to caress and massage. And it won't be very damned long, either!

Hesitantly, Virginia brought him her account book, knowing that the figures wouldn't lie. He took it with a smile and checked her arithmetic quickly as she sat opposite him on the couch, nervously twisting a tissue in her hands.

It took him but a few moments to go through her transactions. Looking up at her over the tell-tale sheets, his face now grim, he grated, "It seems that you're almost two hundred dollars short. A hundred and ninety-eight dollars to be exact!"

Virginia couldn't look at him; the guilt weighed too heavily upon her. "Th-that's right…" she murmured, "and I don't have it to pay you…"

"Well, I'm sure that you know I'll have to make it up when I make my own report tomorrow!"

"I-I'm sorry…" she faltered, "but if I had more time I could make it up gradually…"

"I don't see how I can do that!" Hartman growled. "You've had one extra week already."

At a loss for further words, Virginia dissolved into tears. "I-I don't know what t-to do," she sobbed. "I-I tried to borrow the money… so I could pay you…"

"I know what you can do!"