TellMeATale2013
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Mar 10, 2013
- Posts
- 199
"What'll $50 Get Me?"
Robert wasn't eavesdropping, but still he couldn't help but overhear what his daughter and her friend were discussing beyond her open bedroom door. A few minutes later, Lori came out with that How much do you love me? expression on her face.
"You have an allowance," he said, looking back to the newspaper in his hands before she'd spoken a single word. He gave her a cute little wave, saying, "Bye bye. You and your little friend go have fun."
She exhaled that little pouty puff that so often came with the pouty look, then stomped away. From the bedroom, Robert could hear Lori saying, "No go. I'll have to ask my mother, but she's across the street at the neighbors. I'll be right back."
Robert just smiled to himself and turned the page, still reading and ignoring his daughter's grumbling as she stormed out of the house.
After a minute or two, Robert heard the click clack of high heels on the tile floor and lowered his paper ... to find the most incredible young woman sauntering down the hallway toward the family room, her gaze set firmly upon his ogling eyes. She was tall -- perhaps 5'10" in those stilettos, thin bodied, long legged, and well rounded where a man liked to see round; coming at him, she showed off a dramatic hour glass figure, and after turning to the right to amble through the family room, her firm "b" cupped breasts and shapely ass were enough to take Robert's breath away.
He could hardly believe that this goddess was a high school teenager like his daughter. She could very well have graced the cover of the SI Swimsuit Issue or pranced down the runway in the Victoria Secret commercials that he had to pretend he wasn't watching when his wife was sitting nearby.
The beauty was studying the massive video, DVD, and CD library that Robert and his wife had collected over the years as she commented, "Allowance, huh? My daddy doesn't give me an allowance."
She was rocking lightly to and fro on those tall shoes, and Robert -- who was totally entranced by the shifting of her pear shaped ass -- almost didn't realized that she'd meant her comment for him. He cleared his throat and asked, "You have a job somewhere?"
Stripper...? Porn star...? Hooker? he was wishing she would say. Anything at all that involved you getting very naked for men you wouldn't normally date ... like me! When she casually looked over her shoulder and shook her head, he risked, "So ... whaddaya do for money?"
She turned and faced him squarely, donned a devilish smirk, and said, "What ever I need to."
Oh please god, where the hell is my wallet? Robert thought as he watched her turn again, continuing on her little trek around the family room until she'd arrived back at the end of the hall where she'd started.
Very conspicuously -- though not consciously, as he didn't remember doing it -- Robert had used his toes on the carpet to turn his chair slowly and watch the girl make her entire circuit around the large room.
She stopped and turned to face him again with that I know you want to fuck smile, and added in almost a whisper, "Depends on how much money we're talking about, I suppose."
Robert couldn't believe this conversation. If he'd been in his car negotiating with a street walker he would have asked What'll fifty bucks get me? Of course, he'd learned his lesson on that front already. A couple of years back, after one too many drinks, he'd gotten into a friendly conversation with a hooker on the street corner, and just as he was about to make a deal with her, her backup -- who Robert recognized for his occasional patrol work at Lori's high school -- strolled by quickly and whispered, "Go home Mister Peterson, before you get arrested."
With his paper laying in his lap to hide his raging hard-on, Robert would have offered this girl a thousand dollars to drop her panties and crawl into his lap. But, this was no hooker, of course; this was his daughter's teenage friend from school. And while he would have loved to say something, anything, to prolong this conversation and see what exactly she would do for what amount of money, he knew that at any moment, his daughter -- or worse, his wife and daughter -- could walk back into the house.
And, as if the morality Gods were listening, Lori came bursting through the door just then, announcing successfully, "Got it! Let's go. The store closes in twenty minutes."
While his daughter rushed to her room to snatch up her purse, the goddess just stood there in the hallway, sharing a smile with Robert.
"Let's go!" his daughter growled, snatching her friend by the wrist and pulling her hurriedly for the door. Robert smiled a bit wider and risked a little wink as the long legged creature gave him a little farewell wave and, he assumed, disappeared from his life -- but not his fantasies -- forever.
Robert was sitting on the patio of a sidewalk cafe when he heard the click clack of high heels on concrete. It quickly refreshed his memory of that afternoon three weeks earlier, making him smile behind the magazine in his hands. That encounter had been the inspiration for several episodes of self abuse in the bathroom, and imagining that tall, perfect angel now was making Robert--
His heart leaped in his chest as the goddess from weeks earlier stopped within inches of him and smiled down. "Lori's dad ... right?"
He tried to speak but couldn't get the words out. He nodded affirmation, cleared his throat, and managed to get out, "Robert. I'm ... I'm sorry. I didn't get--"
"Primrose," she answered, looking to the chair opposite him and asking, "May I?"
Robert nodded without hesitation, saying, "Of course. Please."
As she turned and waved to the waiter, asking for a lemon water, Robert's eyes fell to the designer jeans that seemed painted to her legs and ass; and as she turned back to the table, his eyes couldn't help but find the round firm breasts and ever-hard nipples that laid unbridled below the thin cloth of a tight fitting, cropped tee shirt.
He forced his gaze up to her own eyes as she sat across from him, clearing his throat again and asking, "Primrose. That different. Beautiful, but not very common. Is that a family name, or...?"
"What would I have to do for you for twenty bucks?" she asked bluntly, ignoring his ramblings about her given name. "I have a bill I have to pay today. Credit card."
Robert just stared at her, oblivious. He was still lost in the fact that this perfect example of womanhood had sat down with him of her own accord in a public cafe. He glanced about himself -- trying to be casual about it -- and found at least six sets of appreciative eyes set firmly upon the woman across from him ... and not all of them were in the heads of men!
Robert had barely heard her question, let alone understood it to mean that she was asking what kind of task would he want her to do perform to get an Andrew Jackson out of his wallet and into her purse.
When it finally did hit him, his face flushed with red as his mind went quickly to all the indecent places in the world of sexual deviancy. He cleared his throat again -- this time with an obviously nervous tone -- and asked softly, "I'm sorry, what ... what are you asking?"
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