WARNING, SEXUALLY EXPLICIT MATERIAL!                           ADULTS ONLY!

TRICIA (in which a lady with time on her hands and  feeling she was missing
        out on something found a fulfilling way to spend her days providing
        a community service).

by Ozman (c) 2005 (with thanks to Suzanne).

  My life in vice began when I was about forty, widowed some five years be-
fore and getting a bit lonely despite never being what folks would describe 
as a party animal. My social life had dwindled to almost nothing and all my
three friends were divorcees with whom I played tennis and squash on a semi-
regular basis. I enjoyed their company as they were of a similar age, but a
demanding employer seemed to take up most of their hours and spare time was 
at a premium, precluding much socializing. On the other hand I always had a
lot of time on my hands after dropping the kids at school and the shopping. 
I put in time on charitable work, went to the gym three days a week, jogged
daily and took courses at the local adult education institution,  but still
had time to spare.

  I was lamenting my lack of employment to Jill who had a sympathetic smile
and an astonishing proposition for me.

  "How broadminded are you, Trish. Be completely honest now."

  "About what?"

  "Sex, of course."

  "I don't get enough, in fact I don't get any. Guys clearly think I'm past
it."

  "But you don't?"

  "I hope not."

  "Would you pay for sex?"

  "I have thought about it, but I'd be too embarrassed to do it."

  "What about being paid for sex?"

  "Who'd pay me?"

  "There are a great number of older blokes who'd pay for the favours of an 
attractive and fit woman like you. There's a large market for ladies of our
age in the older community and I don't mean a doddery old clientele either.
There are quite a few vigourous older guys about, you know."

  "Is that what you do?"

  "I've done it a few times, enough to know that I'm quite comfortable with
the idea of continuing in the profession for a while. My firm is downsizing
this year, so I really need to find casual work to tide me over the shorter  
hours I'm expecting. I have a mortgage you know."

  "So are you doing it because you enjoy it, or out of economic necessity?"

  "I got into it out of necessity, but I do find it fun, so far."

  "So where do I fit in? I can't see myself selling my body for a living."

  "You can be our telephone receptionist. I've been doing the job for about
eight months or so, but I wasn't nearly so calm when I was approached to do
it. In fact I was appalled I'd even been considered and it's taken me quite
a time to discover that I did have a latent talent for sexual entertainment 
of men."

  "You suddenly had the desire to try it?"

  "No, not at all," Jill laughed a bit nervously. "I worked for months with-
out really considering the possibility of my participation in sex work, but 
having spoken to all the clients on the phone, ushered them about the house
and chatted with them, I began wondering how I'd cope as a sexual object to
the men I liked and found I'd probably enjoy their company in a social way,
including sex. Out of curiosity I went with a client who'd been a last min-
ute cancellation by one of the girls who had to pick up a sick child at the 
end of a shift. Despite my resolution that I'd done it once to help out and 
that was that, I found myself seeing him again and then a friend of his, my
experiences in sex work making me feel more alive than I had for some years.
Things got complicated when I messed up several days' bookings by trying to 
do more than one thing at a time and the others gave me the option of going
into prostitution completely or remaining at the reception desk, but I have
to find my replacement if I choose the former. As I'm now finding the job a
little on the mundane side and want to move on into sex work, I'm hoping to
convince you to take it on, so here we are." 

  "Ye-es," I agreed. "Here we are."

  "So, will you give it a go?" 

  "Well I suppose it'll be a change from what I'm doing, but I'm absolutely 
not interested in becoming a whore, if that's a requirement after a time."

  "It's not, I promise you."

  Jill was obviously pleased at my so readily accepting her proposal and we
had a celebratory drink on her.

  "What made you think of me as a prospect?" I asked her.

  "Bored, single, attractive with an all over suntan which suggested a free
spirit."

  "It's from reading nude on my back lawn. I haven't been to a nudist beach
since I lost Sam because I'm not confident enough to go alone. I'm not your
adventurous type at all; actually a bit of a mouse who's starting to wonder
how I let myself get talked into this."

  "At least you gave me a hearing.  Dawn and Erin didn't want to hear about
it at all and I'll be surprised if they ever speak to me again."

  "Really?" I gasped. "I thought that they were in it too as they appear to 
be so, you know, self-assured." 

  "But really prudish and very conventional. I really thought Erin would be
in it, but she was even more uptight than Dawn proved to be."

  "So I'll be on the outer with them too, I assume."

  "Not if they don't know you're working there. I won't tell them."

  I was taken on for a fortnight's trial where I found the task to be quite  
a simple matter of sitting before a computer and typing in all the bookings
against the names of a requested or an available woman in the house. I wore
smart suits over camisoles, with short skirts to show off my long legs, all
provided free by the house like the skimpy working outfits the other ladies
wore.

  There were several bedroom suites in the elegant old house, although five 
women were the maximum I saw working at one time, opening for sixteen hours 
each day with most of the dozen working six hours and seeing four customers
during the time. 

  I knew two of the women there, Amy, a classmate from school and Jane, the
little sister of my onetime playmate from the street we grew up in. Most of 
them were a few years younger than I,  but displayed a poise and confidence
that indicated high self-esteem and a contentment with their lot after emb-
racing a lifestyle which was generally considered to be the very nadir of a
polite society. Jane was by far and away the most beautiful of them all and 
worked as a catalogue model in her normal life, been deserted with two kids
and made no bones about cashing in on her looks while they lasted. Amy sur-
prised me because she'd been a very plain jane and a heavy duty bible bash-
er at school, but had bloomed into a classically handsome lady with shapely 
figure who'd turned to prostitution to keep her family home when her mother
passed away. Apparently a married male friend had jocularly, but repeatedly 
offered her increasing amounts of money to have sex with him over the years
and she eventually accepted his proposition out of desperation, then saw it
as the answer to her financial  problems in the absence of any skills which
could make her employable in the modern workforce. 

  I was duly accepted as one of the permanent receptionists by an unanimous 
vote of the debenture-holders, all those working there on shares, finding a
feeling of real contentment for the first time in years. Having a job, even
though I didn't need the money, with a group of real mates, not just casual
acquaintances, made my life fuller and richer. I listened in to discussions
on sexual techniques and positions, the abilities, likes or dislikes of the
various clients and who they preferred to service. I'd never done very many     
of the things they mentioned, but tried them alone in my bed at night while 
masturbating before sleeping. 

  After six months I had absolutely no qualms at all over taking money they
earned from selling sex: it seemed to be an absolutely reasonable matter of
market forces at play by then, although any thoughts I had of doing it were
still in the realms of sexual fantasy. I'd maintained my gym membership and
continued a fairly healthy regimen of running, walking and swimming to give
me the kind of body I spent more and more time narcissistically admiring in
my big, wardrobe mirror. While I was no adolescent beauty I was nonetheless
an attractive woman in my own eyes, but needed to know how desirable I'd be
to heterosexual men without accepting that I'd ever go as far as selling my
lovely body.

  I was lying on a towel on my back lawn working on my tan when I looked up
to see the young guy who cut my grass staring open-mouthed at my nude form.
Instead of quickly covering myself I smiled, parted my thighs a bit further
and invited him to join me.

  "Why don't you take your things off too?" 

  He looked embarrassed initially, but when I'd made something of a show of   
pressing and fingering my obviously wet pussy he ripped off his gear to lie
beside me. I leaned over him on one elbow to kiss his mouth to and grip his 
thick, hard prick. He trembled with excitement, but remained strangely sub-
missive because of my apparent self-assurance in taking the initiative with
the proceedings,  although I was actually very aroused and relieved that he
hadn't spurned my offer of casual sex.  It may have destroyed my confidence
and ruined my future because, although it was a wholly spontaneous act, his
rejection might have caused me second thoughts about sex for fun and profit.

  "Love big boobs," he murmured around a mouthful of nork and nipple.

  "Big, old boobs," I chuckled.

  "They're much nicer than my wife's," he told me unabashedly. 

  "Ooh, you're a silver-tongued devil," I breathed huskily, a bit surprised
at my easy lasciviousness in view of my normally reserved manner, but quite
pleased that I could be that way with a man.  I'd never been the instigator 
of any sexual contact before then, even with my husband,  so the enterprise
I had been vaguely considering seemed more real as an option for my future. 

  He smelled sweaty which turned me on, grasping his hard cock to throw one 
leg over his hips and effortlessly slide my moist pussy down over it when I 
sat on his lap. He thrust gently upwards, his hands under my thighs lifting
as I rhythmically raised and lowered my bottom to shove his deliciously big
dick in and out of my warmly drooling honeypot.

  "This isn't so hard," I thought joyfully as I bounced up and down on him.
"Maybe it would be worth propositioning other tradesmen who did the odd job
for me."

  If I could get men to work for my favours, perhaps I might find them will-
ing to pay as well.

  Warren wanted a bit more action and told me to hang on to him as he moved
to sit, then kneel as he reversed our positions, ramming his pelvis to mine 
with a noisy, rhythmic slapping, slurping sound to emphasize the lascivious
nature of our coupling.

  I lifted my legs to encircle his body, squeezing and urging him on lewdly
as I caressed his flanks and grasped at his pumping buttocks in a flurry of 
erotic sensation, his manful response being all a woman could ask for in my
position. Tingling in my loins testified to the approach of orgasm so I put
my hand down to grasp his tossing scrotum to gently manipulate his balls, a
sudden tightening telling me he  was coming as he thrust deep to gush semen
into my womb with a  warm flush, our bodies locked tightly in the spasmodic
paralysis of climactic ecstacy.

  "Does that now entitle me to some sort of discount for the lawnmowing?" I 
eventually asked him with a chuckle.

  "Do you want an arrangement?" he enquired hesitantly.

  "You mean that you'll give me an hour's labour in my garden for me giving
you an hour on the job, once per week?"

  "Not even an hour," he flushed. "Just a quickie will do me."

  I took his right hand in mine and shook it. "I'm certain we can do better
than a quickie, don't you?"

  He grinned happily at the prospect.

                                     *

  My interlude on the lawn with Warren made me think more seriously about a
foray into the illicit world of harlotry; the idea of a sinfull secret life 
parallel to the everyday me being extremely exciting although I didn't hold
out much hope of experiencing  many memorable sexual bouts as a prostitute.
However, the idea of doing it was arousing after my first succesful attempt
at being slutty, then convincing him to pay for my favours with his labour.

  A week later the chimney sweeper arrived to brush out my heater flues and
I felt an uncharacteristic desire to do something outrageous.

  "They need to be done,"  I told him dishonestly, "but I've had unexpected
bills and I'm really short at the moment. I want to clear my debts before I
take on any more expenditure."

  "That's okay," he told me sincerely. "You can owe me until you can afford  
to pay."

  I looked thoughtful for a moment. "How about I pay you in kind?"

  "How do you mean?" he asked naively.

  When I lifted my teeshirt to show him my bare boobs he blushed and gulped
as my meaning became clear.

  "Ooooh I can't," he whined. "I'm married. And a Christian."

  I looked at him, smiling provocatively,  removing my top and bra to shake 
and wobble my tits for him, then dropping my skirt and pants to pose naked.

  "Are you sure?" I husked. "I'd like to do it for you anyway."

  "No! no!, I mustn't," he moaned, turning to leave and then groaning as if 
in pain as he came back to embrace me in the  manner I'd imagine a drowning 
man grips a lifeguard.

  I got him to have a shower as I diddled my clitty, inspected his tool for
signs of anything untoward, rolled a condom over his member and leaned back 
invitingly on my elbows with my legs spread to display my pussy to his avid
gaze. He was seriously conflicted, poor man, his mind saying "no", but that
fearsome, rock hard stiffy would not be denied, shuffling up over me on all 
fours to enter me roughly and fully without use of his hands. His hips were
wildly pounding mine while he fucked me furiously for no more than a minute 
before groaning, "Go-od" and squirting an unbelievable amount of semen into
me as he collapsed.

  He was apologetic over his lack of control so I took him back inside once
again, after he'd swept the flues, for a more satisfactory nooky.

  I still hadn't actually made any decision to try whoring when opportunity
knocked in an unexpected  manner as I was alone in the house one afternoon.
I'd undressed to change into my street clothes from my receptionists outfit 
when the phone rang to confirm a booking with Phoebe who'd been called away
on a family matter. While I explained things to the client I played with my 
pussy and felt erotically playful under those circumstances, even though he
couldn't know what I was doing at the other end of the line. I was so horny
I was almost tempted to offer him my services, but couldn't quite utter the
words to make it happen and it left me regretting my timidity on hanging up.
Just then the door chimes rang and I scrambled to put on a pegnoir to cover 
my nakedness as I opened the door to Gordon, one of our regulars.

  He was a widower of around sixty, still fit and attractive, a client whom
I'd fantasised over in bed alone at night.

  "Hello, Trish. Have you taken it up at last?" he enquired, looking at all
my nearly bare flesh that had hitherto been slightly better concealed under
the uniform.

  Of course I blushed and ruined the cool, worldly woman facade I'd intend-
ed to present in that situation.

  "I haven't yet," I told him, "but being the only female available at this
juncture, I guess I'd better make that decision pretty quickly."

  "Take your time," he smiled. 

  "No," I demurred. "Let's do it, before I have time to think about it."  

  "If you're sure?" he asked, but he needed no persuasion to get it on with
me then and there.

  I showered and returned to him  naked as he reclined on the bed similarly
unclad, his rigid member pleasingly swollen as he gently stroked it, moving
to allow my inspection and the application of a frenchie before I threw one 
leg over him to straddle his loins and lower my aching snatch to engulf his
prick.  That was it, I thought, I was a confirmed harlot, getting a service 
or money for my favours and feeling not the least ashamed at my sinning. It
was pleasing to find my vocation in vice and to comprehend that it had been 
such an easy occupation to accommodate without any sense of having demeaned 
myself.  

  "Ooooh, that's lovely," I breathed, dangling my swinging nipples in front
of his eager mouth as I rocked to and fro to slide his cock in my warm, wet
vagina. "It's wonderful to do this again after such a long time."

  "That'd have to be your fault," Gordon grinned. "There was no shortage of
willing males for you around here."

  I wasn't even mildly insulted by his funny compliment, in fact it made me 
feel a bit foolish to have waited so long, enjoying a giggle about my being
hesitant at a new career. 

  "Did you talk about the likelihood of my becoming a working girl?" I ask-
ed him with growing confidence.

  "Of course," he chuckled kindly. "We're all red blooded males you know, a
little decrepit in some cases, but nevertheless lovers of attractive female 
company in the more intimate sense. It's our hobby now, being able to enjoy
all those young feminine bodies that weren't available to us in years past, 
redistributing our wealth where it does good."

  "I'd never of thought of it like that," I told him.

  "Me neither, 'til just now," he laughed. "Makes a good story though."

  "So we're just sex objects to you guys."

  "No-o......" he hesitated thoughtfully. "I guess the real answer's yes. I
think of all the girls here with real affection, but when a man comes right 
down to it, it is the sex, albeit with a compatible sex object as a partner
in the experience."

  "That's okay," I told him.  "I'm quite comfortable at being a sex object.
In fact I find it arousing to be the source of arousal in another."

  "Well you are that, I assure you," he told me as he thrust his pelvis up
against my crotch with that slapping, slurping sound of sexual activity.

  My first experience as a prostitute was a rather pleasant one which gave
me the confidence to embrace the profession as a happy whore. Gordon liked
to make us come, I discovered, enhancing his satisfaction and prompting me 
to kiss him in a spontaneous and sincere sign of my delight. We lay as one
until the spasms of orgasm abated.

  "And?" he enquired.

  "A gentleman doesn't ask," I giggled.

  "Come on, a gentleman wouldn't be here, would he?"

  "It was lovely. Made my day, actually. And yes, I intend to continue the
new occupation and be available should you want me in future."

  "Well it was great to get something straight between us at last and I am
glad your experience with me wasn't off-putting. I look forward to getting
together again in the near future."
 
  I saw then how Jill had found it so easy to make the transition to doing
sex work; one good experience and all one's fears evaporate in an instant.
Could a  woman's decision on her future actually be determined by a single 
unsatisfactory experience, I wondered? 

  I'd saved enough for my partnership debenture, it had to be paid upfront
to the membership, so I asked the others to be allowed to join the firm as 
a fully fledged partner, subject to the replacement being found to fill my
position as receptionist. Jill and a couple of the other girls volunteered 
to do the job during their periods so that I might be evaluated as a work-
ing girl and seek another receptioniste, despite my having demonstrated my 
capacity to satisfactorally service three clients on my first afternoon.  

  As matters transpired I ran into Dawn in the local shopping centre while
replenishing the larder. She asked what I'd been up to recently and I told 
her I'd taken a receptioniste position in a brothel.

  "God!" she gasped, a hand at her mouth. "Jill wanted us to take that job
some months ago. You got it!"

  I nodded.

  "She said she wanted to work there as a prozzie instead of receptioniste  
work," she gabbled as the penny dropped. "You haven't got into that too?"

  I raised my eyebrows and smiled mysteriously.

  "Oh Jesus!" she blushed. "What's it like? I've been wondering ever since
Jill mentioned it."

  "I've only been doing it for a fortnight or so, but it's not to hard and
even a quite pleasant way to spend the day at times. It's better than hav-
ing time on your hands and I do it in addition to all the other stuff I've
been doing. I could get you a trial as the receptioniste because I need to 
find a replacement to let me change jobs."

  "But what made you take up selling yourself?"

  "Curiosity as much as anything, I guess. You work there and you meet all
the men and make friends with the other women who seem to enjoy doing that
for a living, then wonder what it'd be like to do it yourself.  In my case 
I had the opportunity to do it alone, without anyone knowing I'd tried it.
I did it three times and found it was something I could do easily and want
to continue for a while. Of course I make up for the sex I miss out on due
to being a mother who doesn't get out at night on dates."

  "I couldn't do that," she shuddered, clutching herself. "Having sex with
a total stranger seems so-o gross."

  "You're right," I agreed, "but I'd known all the male clients for months
before I went with one. They all wanted me, but they remained gentlemen to 
the end and waited for my decision to join the fallen sisterhood providing
for their sexual needs. By that time they weren't strangers to me, in fact
I found more than one of them decidedly tasty despite the age differences.
Anyway age doesn't mean a lot to me now. I find some older men rather more 
interesting, particularly while they can still perform, knowing I'll never
be stuck at nursing one in later years."

  She seemed doubtful about the matter and promised to "think about it". I
thought it was probably the end of the matter as she seemed much less than
convinced that it might be a suitable occupation for her, so I was totally
surprised when she phoned the next morning to say she was ready to give it
a whirl. 

  Dawn took to the job like a duck to water, a further surprise to both me
and Jill, even becoming quite flirtatious with many clients within a month
of starting. A few weeks later she told us that she'd like to give whoring
a try as she'd found the house very much to her liking and that she wanted
to step up to partake in the core activity. Her proposal was accepted, I'd
never imagined one being rejected in reality, and we covered for maid duty
while she satisfied everyone, including herself, that she had what it took
to maintain the good name of our bordello. Funnily enough it was wowserish
Erin who came to replace her, a position she held for almost a year before
she too undertook the oldest profession and sold her favours for the first 
time.

  Twelve years on and I'm still at it, less frequently, but still enjoying
the lifestyle. Those of the group still involved are now more into working
on call, doing dinner and the theatre or a movie before taking our date to
our beds for a bit of sin. Of course vanity has made us to work harder for
our looks, but we are all fit and healthy and better able to enjoy what we
do best. If it hadn't been for the work, the companionship it provided and
our friendships, I think I might have married again out of desperation for
human company, but I'm glad now that I didn't. My life's my own.