Chapter 4: Interview for a “Position”

All the next day Colleen could think of little else but that phone number. When she got home, she wrote it down and for the rest of the evening it sat there on that piece of paper on the dining room table like a red flag, drawing her eyes to itself constantly. As she worked her tables during the day, she wondered what it was that Brandy had been talking about. How could she make a lot of money with just one man? Become a mistress? A kept woman? She guessed there were men rich enough to afford a mistress on the side. What would that be like? Would it provide the money she needed so badly?

And what did Brandy mean about kinky? Colleen was of mixed feelings about that also. Of course, maybe kinky meant something different to Brandy than it did to her. Being a healthy, fairly attractive young lady, she had sexual experiences – certainly not excessive, given her somewhat shy nature – but she was no virgin.

Truth be known, she had found sex with most men, boys actually, to be boring. She had allowed four of the boys she dated in high school to get her into bed. Well, one actually was on the sand at the beach late one night, and another was on the grass next to the pool at his father’s house. The other two were in a normal bed in a normal bedroom, but what she hoped was not normal sex. The young men who had managed to get her clothes off were fumbling, although eager. Perhaps too eager, for she found that sex to them was some quick pumping and then a messy ejaculation, all of which terminated the act while she was just beginning to enjoy the experience. Lying alone in bed at night, she had experienced much more enjoyable feelings by fingering herself and thinking about a handsome stud with a huge prong that filled her to near bursting.

Such limited experience might imply that she was not interested in sex, but that was not true. Far from that. Colleen had needs and urges. There were times when she wanted to cry when the need for sexual satisfaction was strong inside her. But where was all the orgasmic ecstasy that sex was suppose to be? Where were the skyrockets exploding in her head while her body burned with passion? Maybe the skyrockets went off for the boys, but not for her.

Then, of course, there had been the one experience as a hooker. She had expected more of the same: rough pumping followed by grunting and then shooting his load into her – a part of her that she thought of as her “pussy” because that was what the first boy who had touched it called it. Had it been so simple! It would have been boring and perhaps a little unpleasant – at least, that was what she had expected. But when she was standing there naked, showing off her body, and he brought out the handcuffs, things became different. She had been more than a little frightened, but she remembered a TV show she had once seen where a hooker charged the man extra for something kinky. So she named a modest increase in the fee and he agreed. Of course, she now knew that he would have agreed to any amount, since he had no intention of paying anyway.

So her latest sexual experience had been decisively unpleasant. Those handcuffs had tightened down so much that they hurt her wrists and made them go numb. She had barely been able to fumble the key into one of the cuffs to get them off. And, of course, seeing the fat slob walk out the door with the money she had earned by doing an unpleasant job was almost more painful than her sore wrists.