THE HAPPY LOOKER
******************************
All of her life Dakota had stayed out of the sun to protect her fair skin. That's what she told everyone. It was true, but also because she had no time to lay around.
She'd learned long ago that the secret of success was more than smarts and moxie, that good looks opened doors.
To create that illusion, she gladly paid for toastmaster events, personal trainers, cosmetic dentistry, collagen, botox, lasers, lifts, tucks, and various fills. She never neglected getting a manicure and pedicure along with her week massage. To her, it was all part of the cost of doing business.
Like a Mercedes full of Bondo, she wasn't sure how long it would all last, but she was confident she'd look good in the 2010 Easter Parade on mainstreet come Sunday.
This would be the last year. Her business was sold to foreigners who were unlikely to continue her tradition of riding on the corporate float every Easter.
Dakota managed to somehow survive the sale of her company. She wasn't filthy rich, but there was enough left to allow her freedom. Worn out and tired from years of putting her family and business first, she planned to take two years off and do nothing.
The only thing she wanted now was a good sex life. It was the one thing she'd never had. Everyday she hungered for a man who'd fill the space between her legs and love her well.
*****************************
The only men she knew were business associates. Having always made it a policy to keep such relationships platonic, she wasn't about to risk her reputation and burn any bridges.
Like any good card player, Dakota knew the day would come when she'd be ready to jump back in and start a new game. Some would call it "not shitting in your own nest."
Not knowing where to find a date, the prospect of paying for a lover as she would a carpenter began to strike her as a practical temporary solution.
*************************
She made calls to a few escort services but didn't find any that had males. Given enough time, she was told, they
might find one to hire. "Might?" she mumbled to herself, they MIGHT find a man?
It made her feel poor. God, how she hated being a beggar.
**********************
Despite being initially discouraged, she continued calling around. Dakota made it clear to all of them, she was recently divorced and simply looking for an escort, not sex.
That was a white lie, but it was not possible for her to be more honest without losing all dignity.
Lately she had even been taking pictures of herself for reassurance. Daily she'd examine them to convince herself she was looking younger, not older.
Dakota had always been a desirable woman. So what had happened? She refused to admit her divorce and business concerns had taken their toll. She'd lost valuable years, now she wanted them back--to make up for lost time.
Most eligible men reminded her of Jack, her ex-husband who was a good man, but sexually clueless. She once told her therapist, "Watching the monkey's at the zoo could get me more turned on than he could."
****************************
Now, at this point in her life, all she really wanted was uncomplicated raw sex.
No strings attached, nothing to think about--just a good roll in the hay, a solid fuck--a wake up call in the morning from room service with no man to contend with.
Yes, that's what she wanted--cash on the barrel head--one night stands with no complications, no crazy obligations, no commitments, no kids, she'd done all that.
Now it was her turn to go after what she'd missed in life, get some really good hot sex, someone to cum with. Was it wrong to want a guy with a big thick dick who's idea of sex went beyond watching him jack-off?
******************
It occurred to her that she couldn't be the only person in this predicament. Then she recalled a recent article.
It was in the Detroit News Sunday Edition, a story about a singles club, how they held discussion groups at each others homes and once a month, had a dance at an area hot spot.
Digging through her recyclables, she soon found the article about the DASA (Detroit Area Singles Association). They were about to have a "Spring Break Dance" on the first Thursday in April, at the MGM Grand Hotel and Casino in Downtown Detroit.
She called and talked to David, the association's President. It turned out he was also the editor of their monthly newsletter. Learning they had over 5000 members, she asked if they needed any additional volunteers.
Being cautious and not wanting to kick a gift horse in the teeth or scare her away, he began asking typical interview questions.
Throughout it all, David could barely contain his excitement. Finally he said, "We've covered all of your assets, now tell me, what would you consider your liabilities?
Not being able to think of anything she wanted to share, she said the first thing that came to mind,
"A critic recently told me that I need to lay off the books and let my hair down once and awhile. Have some fun and not work such long hours."
On the other end of the phone, David smiled. It was what he wanted to hear. While they'd been talking he was unbeknownst to her, looking at her photo on Face-Book.
He wanted more than a volunteer who'd give good advice and write well, he wanted to get laid, maybe even fall in love.
Before their telephone conference was over, he suggested she join the editorial staff as a volunteer writer for their newsletter's advice column.
Dakota was in second heaven. This was indeed an ideal situation--the perfect chance for her to breeze into the single world.
The next day they met for coffee. He turned over the accumulated unanswered letters from the former advice columnist. Before parting, they had agreed she would assume the pen name, "The Happy Looker".
********************
To introduce her in the forthcoming issue, he drew a striking caricature of her face and used it to head-up the advice column.
It looked exactly like her with big sun glasses and all, yet it was enough of a disguise to preserve her anonymity.
At last, she was in her element and it wouldn't look like the only reason she was in the singles club was to meet a man. It would instead, she thought, establish her as a woman who's first purpose was to write and serve the membership.
*********************
Most of her time at the Spring Dance, she spent at the DASA Newsletter table. It allowed the editor to introduce her to members. It went smoothly until some weird looking guy named Rocky, came over and asked her to dance. She didn't want to look like a snob or uptight, so she said yes.
Feeling fragile, Dakota kept on her expensive wrap around camel haired coat. It felt like protection--a shield. Those around her saw it as a statement that said, don't get to close to me.
******************************
They weren't on the dance floor for a minute, when Rocky looked down at her and said, "If you don't loosen up, nobody here is going to ask you to dance."
She was stunned and mortified. How dare he talk to her this way?
When the dance ended she left, vowing to never come back again, to subject herself to such crassness.
**************************
Patting her coat like an old friend, she hung it in the entry and went straight to her bedroom.
Lying down, clothes and all, tears rolled down her face, as she kicked off her heels, raised her skirt and pulled off her panty hose.
Taking "Old Faithful" from under her pillow, she turned it on, and worked it back and forth across her pussy.
Her body responded and her adrenaline began to flow. Within minutes she was imagining the adonis of her dreams whispering sweet nothings in her ear, driving her wild with desire. She moaned and groaned, called out to her angel boy who made love like she'd always dreamed possible.
She was safe now, lost in another world, far from cold realty, and best of all, off that fuckin' dance floor full of freaks.
****************************
She closed her eyes and tried not to think. Feeling for the wetness between her legs, she reached into the bookcase headboard for her beautiful glass dildo.
She took her time slathering its crystal head with her juices, anticipating the pleasure that would soon be hers.
Slowly she guided it in to her cunt with one hand, as her other hand pressed "Old Faithful" against her clit.
Feeling its slick coldness enter, she slowed down, rocking her hips up and down while it clutched on the drag and allowed her muscles to gain full control. Sucking in and pushing out, over and over again, she rose and lowered herself repeatedly.
Suddenly her bedroom speaker phone interrupted her imaginary world. It was David talking,
"I didn't have a chance to say goodbye tonight. I hope you liked the dance . . . . By the way, you left your purse at the table . . . . It's 2:00 AM right now, I'm leaving the dance. If you haven't gone to sleep, call me on my cell. I can drop it off on my way home."
Picking up she said, "Great, I need it! Tell you what, if you stop at the 7-11 for eggs, I'll make us breakfast."
*******************************
To Be Continued: "Doing It Like Rabbits"
The Happy Looker (Part 2)
|
Submitted by:
Babe
view profile
|
You have new unread mail messages!
Click here for your Inbox!
