It's Only Castles Burning Pt. 01

We drove for about 30 minutes, leaving the rundown industrial area behind, while making our way to a part of town that catered to businessmen and tourists for the shopping. He pulled into a townhouse complex, and hitting another button on the console caused one of the garage doors to open. We parked inside next to a late model Mercedes and entered the building.

A middle age white woman was sitting behind a desk with three cell phones in front of her. Next to her were several couches and there were two young white women on each one dressed in sexy, but acceptable attire. Three were blondes and one was a light-colored brunette.

"How's business tonight?" he barked at the woman.

"Average," she replied before the phone suddenly rang stopping their discussion.

While we stood there, I saw and heard the woman book an appointment for the evening, while the ladies on the couches looked me over. They seemed plain to me and rather dull, almost dreary looking. Mr. Lamontagne looked at the schedule planner and made some notes in a small notebook he kept in his shirt pocket.

"Where's Joey?" he asked.

"He's running late. Should be here anytime," she answered nervously.

"You tell that motherfucker it's his last chance. I mean it," he said to her.

"I will for sure," she quickly replied.

We left shortly after that, and as soon as we started driving, he began explaining the economics of the enterprise.

"Escort service is a mediocre business. Girls are hard to keep, they aren't dependable and it comes with overhead. Average night is only $1,000 net. I got two operations, so you do the math," he explained.

The next stop was an upscale gentleman's club that I had heard about often, but had never been in to. We pulled up to the valet line and attendants started running like crazy to open our doors. Inside, as soon as the staff saw him, everyone instantly snapped to attention. While he talked to the manager, I watched a young, petite blonde dance topless to the beating rhythm of the music. It was a Thursday night and the place was almost full, with practically every girl occupied at a table. A short while later, I felt a hand on my arm and turned to see Mr. Lamontagne motioning for me to leave with him. As soon as we got in the car, he started describing the workings of the club.

"This place is my best money maker. Big mark-up on drinks and the girls are all independent contractors who pay a fee to work there. As long as things don't get too out of hand and complaints start, the cops don't care and the money flows," he explained.

The next stop was another gentleman's club, but this one was back in the industrial part of town and much seedier. The girls were mostly black or Latina and were on average heavier. It was much less crowded than the previous place, and we left after a short stay with him telling me that the place didn't make much money, but it was one of his first businesses, so he kept it open for that. The final stop wasn't really a stop as it was a tour of the streets in the city notorious for prostitution.

"You see that light?" he asked.

"Yes?" I replied, not knowing where he was going.

"I own four blocks along this street from that light east. My competitors have it from there, but I think I got the best spot," he said.

"Now you would think this would be a low profit business cause it's on the street and all these girls are crack heads. But, in truth, it ain't too bad. Not as good as the club or the escort business, but a good third," he explained.

"Do you know these girls?" I asked, as he drove slowly down the street.

"Some I do. Some been with me for a while, but some I don't," he replied.

"How do you manage things?" I asked, surprising myself with my sudden interest.

"I've got a street manager. A junior pimp," he said with a quick laugh.

As he spoke, he took a right turn then two lefts until he was approaching the street from a side road. On the corner were three girls, and just as we slowed and pulled to the curb another car turned left and came up next to the Escalade.

"This is my manager, Shaan," he told me.

"How's business Shaan?" he asked, gruffly

"Damn slow," he replied while looking at me, no doubt wondering what was going on.

"Any problems?" he asked.

"Celeste didn't show. I'm looking for her." he answered.

"Bitch is useless," Mr. Lamontagne offered.

"Yeah..." Shaan started to speak before he was cut off.

"Go find the bitch while I finish showing my friend around. I'll be back later to check on things some more," he told him, and with that Shaan pulled swiftly away.

With Shaan gone, I turned my attention to the girls on the corner. No customers had approached since we had been there, and they had been glancing in our direction as we talked, clearly knowing who was in the Escalade. One of the girls was a blonde and a bit overweight, and one had light brown hair with huge breasts, but the third was dark haired and slender. As if sensing my interest, my client did a U-turn in the street then backed up so my window was next to the girls. My window suddenly began to descend and the hookers slowly ambled towards the car.

"Ladies, how are things?" the black man asked.

"No action so far," the blonde replied in a raspy voice.

"Well you better sell harder. You know the rules," he told them sternly.

I made eye contact with the slender, dark-haired girl as she stepped further into the light. She was wearing a tiny black miniskirt and a red tube top with matching red pump heels, and as she got closer I had to choke back a gasp as I realized she bore a striking resemblance to Allie.

"You got an interest in Tanya? Tanya, come closer so my friend can have a better look," Mr. Lamontagne instructed.

The other girls stepped aside and Tanya came alongside the window. Her makeup was on heavy, but there was no question she looked a lot like my wife.

"Show my friend your titties, girl," he commanded.

Tanya pulled her tube top down and showed me her smallish breasts. Damn, I thought, even her breasts looked like Allie's.

"You want her for a while? On the house," Mr. Lamontagne asked, and for a moment I actually considered it.

"No, she's lovely, but I can't," I replied, with my eyes not leaving hers.

Tanya pulled her top up and we edged away from the curb then started heading back towards his office. Half way there, he pulled into a small bar.

"Let's get a drink," he announced.

"Look, it's late and I need to get home," I tried.

"One drink," he replied, getting out of the car.

We were there for four hours and closed the bar at 2:00 AM. During that time, he explained more about his activities telling me it was important I understood all aspects. Unfortunately, all the planning I had done to stay a level removed went out the window. He brought up Tanya several times, wanting to know if I wanted to go back. Each time I politely declined, but he must have sensed from my reaction there was something I was hiding. He even told me to quit calling him Mr. Lamontagne and start calling him Rafael. Driving back to get my car, I was wondering how I was going to drive as I was completely hammered.

"You sure you don't want to try Tanya?" he asked with a slurred voice.

"No, no thanks," I replied, unable to keep from laughing.

"You know your secret would be safe," he offered, still probing.

"Really, I don't have an interest," I answered.

"Well, it didn't seem that way to me," he countered.

"You just misunderstood," I told him.

"How did I?" he asked, refusing to let it go.

"She just reminded me of someone," I replied, stupidly.

"Who's that?" he asked.

"My wife," I said as he pulled into the parking lot.

"Mercy me," he started laughing, and then added, "That's going to mess with your head!"

Allie was waiting up when I got home and was not pleased. There were a few choice comments about drinking and driving, and several about not calling, then she let it go and we went to bed. Needless to say, when I reached for her I was immediately rejected.

Over the next several weeks, we concluded the paperwork for the new company and Rafael began slowly transferring cash into it. He kept me verbally informed of these events, but I made it clear I didn't want to know how the money got there.

At the same time, I couldn't get the thought of Tanya out of my head, although now it was mostly a vision of my wife dressed in the hooker outfit. I wanted to see her long legs on display and her butt barely covered by the tiny skirt. Had Tanya been nude underneath the skirt? Would Allie wear a thin tube top like that? The thoughts, as Rafael had accurately predicted, did indeed mess with my head.

A month later Rafael asked me to advise him on some acquisitions, so were spending about a half a day a week together. The conversations now were much less formal and more easygoing, although he always had the hard edge right below the surface. My Tanya-Allie vision just wouldn't go away, and now when we made love, I often fantasizing about her in the hooker attire, pretending I had picked her up and we were in some sleazy motel. One day, after we had inspected for the fourth time the first property Rafael wanted to buy, we were sitting in a bar drinking a beer and discussing the acquisition, when during a break in the discussion, I summoned my courage.

"Where do the girls get those outfits they wear on the street?" I asked.

"Ha! I was waiting for this," he exclaimed, and after several seconds of laughter, he continued with, "Does she know?"

"No," I answered, now very embarrassed.

"What outfit you want?" he asked.

"The one Tanya had on," I replied.

"Hell, that was a month ago. I don't remember what she had on," he said.

"Tiny black skirt, red tube top and red 4" pumps," I replied quickly.

"Man, it has been on your mind," he laughed, "Tanya's size?"

"Yeah," was all I could say.

The next day at my office a package arrived via courier, and I guessed what it was before I opened it. It was exactly what I remembered, including the matching pumps. Now, I was faced with the difficult task of convincing my wife to wear it. I thought through dozens of scenarios to get my Allie to try the outfit on, but in the end, I decided that honesty might be the best approach. The next Friday we had nothing planned and were going to stay in and watch a movie, so I left work a bit early and stopped and got two bottles of her favorite Chardonnay. Allie was wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt and sitting close to me enjoying her second glass of wine when I decided it was time.

"Sweetie, I left a present for you under the bed," I said.

With a look of curiosity, but without saying a word, she got up and went to look. Waiting, I was nervous as hell, and when I saw the look on her face when she came back carrying the box, I thought I was dead. It wasn't anger, but it was concern, and I knew there would be some explaining to do.

"Start talking," she demanded.

I opened my mouth to speak and was about to go down some diversionary path, but decided against it.

"About a month ago, remember when Rafael was showing me his businesses? Well we talked to three of his girls and I swear one looked just like you. I keep thinking of what she was wearing and what you would look like, so...well I decided to try," I explained, waiting for her to get angry.

"Did you do anything with that girl?" she asked bluntly.

"Absolutely, not," I replied, leaving out the part about seeing her breasts.

"Did you think about it?" she responded rapidly.

"No, just thought about you in her clothes," I said.

"I'm worried about you," she replied, as she sat down and picked up her wine.

Two glasses later, she got up without saying a word and left carrying the box. I didn't know what to expect until I heard the heavy clunking of the pumps on the hardwood floors.

"Oh, my God!" was all I could say as she stepped into the room.

The clothes fit her perfectly. The skirt looked painted on and barely covered her butt, and she kept pulling it down nervously. The top left her midsection bare and was thin enough that I thought I could see the bumps of her little nipples, while the pumps pushed her butt up and accentuated her endless, smooth legs. Still, something was missing, and it took me a moment to figure it out.

"You look perfect accept one thing," I said, worried that I might be pushing my luck.

"What?" she asked, both exasperated and breathless.

"You need more makeup and your hair teased," I said.

She turned without replying and was gone for a long time. I was beginning to think she had abandoned the whole idea and was lying in bed angry when I heard the clunking noise again. When she turned the corner, I got an instant erection.

"You're perfect," I said to her.

"A perfect what?" she asked nervously.

"Fantasy for me," I answered.

My eyes were hungrily roaming her body as she watched me. She had put on heavy lipstick, eye liner and shadow and had teased her hair up and was now a perfect replica of the young prostitute.

"Walk back and forth," I requested, and she strode the length of the living room several times with her hips swaying more with each step as she got comfortable.

"Wow!" was all I could think of to say.

My response had a good effect though, as Allie's worried expression started to fade and was replaced by her wonderful, impish grin.

"I feel so naughty," she told me in an excited whisper.

I couldn't sit still any longer and rose, took her in my arms and pulled her firmly against me with my hands on her ass. We kissed deeply and my hands left her rear and roamed her body, arousing both of us even more. Her breathing quickly turned to pants and her eyes showed her desire and vulnerability.

"Take me to bed," she begged, and I was only too happy to oblige.

We tore each other's clothes off then fell onto the bed. I started kissing her neck and then her nipples while my right hand stroked her flat tummy and thighs before centering on her smooth sex. She was wetter than I had ever experienced and my finger literally fell inside her as her lubrication was so profound that she offered no resistance. The first finger was followed by another and then one more and I started stroking into her roughly while licking and sucking on her small nipples. Allie was having trouble staying still from my onslaught. Her hips wiggled and her back arched over and over as I drove her towards a climax.

"Fuck me now," she gasped suddenly, as her arms tried to pull me on top.

In all our time together, I had never heard her utter that word. It both shocked and excited me, but I instantly did as I was commanded and climbed between her legs, where in one quick motion, I pushed completely inside. Allie's legs immediately wrapped around me and we started a fast-paced rhythm with the slapping sounds of her wetness, accompanied by her moans, filling the room each time I hit bottom. This wasn't the slow and gentle love making that was our norm. Instead, it was an intense, almost animalistic, mating. I wish I could say I lasted for thirty minutes and brought her to multiple orgasms, but in reality I lasted for less than three before I passed the point of no return, feeling my balls boil and shot a huge load into my beautiful wife as I roared.

Falling onto her body, I gasped for air while she softly stroked my hair. Normally, she would have accepted the situation, gotten out of bed to clean up and then come back to sleep. However, this time she wanted more, and after giving me a couple minutes to rest, she rolled me off of her and on to my back. She began playing with my wet dick with her hand, and when I started to stiffen, a smile came to her face.

"You've got some work to do," she said seductively, then leaned down and took me into her mouth.

Allie is good at oral sex even though she does it rarely. She was only intimate with one other guy, in a relationship that lasted several years, before me, so I knew he must have been a pretty good teacher. Her attention and the erotic nature of the evening, soon had me completely hard, and she climbed onto me. She started a slow and deliberate motion, grinding her pelvis into mine on each down stroke, while I reached up and began tickling her aroused nipples with my fingertips, causing her body to shudder.

"Is this how a whore acts?" she said, staring directly into my eyes.

"It's how mine does," I replied, then flipped her on her back and re-entered her magical pussy.

Now, I could go at her hard without worrying about ejaculating, so I drove into her deep, but with the steady pace I knew she liked. All the while, I showered her with kisses on her lips, face, and neck to make sure she remembered the encounter as more than a physical connection.

Allie always goes through the same sequence when she is about to orgasm. Her legs lift high in the air, she gets very quiet, almost like she is holding her breath, and her body gets tense. It took only a few minutes before I could see it coming and knew it was going to be a big release, since her body was now shaking as well.

"Ohhh...ohhhh...oh yes...oh Steve...oh please don't stop...don't stop," she cried out, as her hands moved to my ass, pulling me even deeper into her.

"Let it out Allie," I encouraged, feeling her vaginal walls now pulsing on my dick.

"Please don't stop, it's so good," she begged before she began crying softly.

I took her through the climax and then slowly let my pace ebb until I was eventually still.

"I love you," I whispered into her ear, and she buried her head into my neck and began sobbing louder.

Saturday night, after a dinner out with friends and some drinking, Allie put on the outfit again, and the results were almost identical to the first time. She even spent time in the bathroom once again doing her hair and makeup. The amazing aspect was, that after all the preparation, she only wore the clothes for a few minutes before I became so aroused that I stripped her naked and took her to bed. It was just too strong of a visual aphrodisiac that almost instantly took me over.

"Well, tell me how things got on?" Rafael asked with a grin next time I saw him.

"What things?" I asked, genuinely confused by his question.

"What do you mean what things? You know what I mean. You get your wife to dress up for you?" he followed, acting annoyed.

"Oh...yeah. Well..." I replied, unsuccessfully trying to hold back my smile.

"With that look, you must have got some freaky pussy," he said, causing me to turn red, and upon seeing my reaction, he started laughing, "Look at you!"

"Yeah it worked out okay," I said, overcoming the embarrassment.

"Let me see the pictures," he demanded, still laughing.

"What pictures?" I replied trying to be stone faced. Actually, I had convinced Allie to let me take several pictures with my cell phone, and I wondered how Rafael knew.

"Any man is going to take some pictures. He's not going to let that opportunity go by," he explained.

"Well, I didn't take any," I lied.

"Don't pull that shit. You want my help and now you ain't going to share? What's that about? No trust?" he exclaimed, acting upset.

"Okay but just one. I shouldn't do this," I said, but in reality I didn't mind as I was actually proud of the way she looked, and besides, I couldn't see where any harm could come from him looking.

I selected my favorite from the bunch and handed the phone to Rafael. The picture showed Allie half turned towards the camera. You could see the tautness of her legs, ass and stomach, and her breasts were thrust forward. She had a sultry look with her dark hair hanging loosely over part of her face.

"Damn, you're hitting that?" he asked genuinely surprised, "She's much hotter than Tanya that's for damn sure."