Thread: His Personal Whore II (doom29169&Midori)

Charlotte worked double and triple shifts at the diner, and all because Roger couldn't manage to stay away from the track and heroine. Twenty years old, all the world ahead of her, and yet she was trapped because her high school sweetheart had turned into the scum of the earth. So much for the fairy tale. She was a pretty woman, could've had any man she wanted, and if it hadn't been for the fact that Roger had them so far in debt that she couldn't afford a divorce attorney, she would've been a free woman. She'd been polite and friendly with Paul, mainly because there was no harm in it, and she'd even flirted with the man. It wasn't like she was betraying Roger any way. There was no love there, not anymore. When he'd announced the contest, Charlotte had jumped at the idea. The cash would pay off at least one of Roger's bookies, and so she'd entered, thinking that her luck couldn't be good enough to win anyway. The arrival of the courier had changed her life, and she hadn't been aware of just how much. Meeting with Paul was an eye opener, that much was certain, and she'd been amazed to see first hand his opulent lifestyle. A part of her was envious, and another wondered what life would've been like if she hadn't married Roger but instead had waited for someone to sweep her off her feet. But when he sprung his trap, she'd been floored. The offer was tempting Paul was a handsome man, and she would be well provided for. But still, to be his personal whore, and if she was being honest with herself, that was exactly what she would become. She'd left his home, contracts in hand, and promised to think about it. At home, Roger continued to ignore her, and so the idea of betraying him was nonexistent. Could you betray a man who didn't give a shit about you? Could you betray man more concerned with making bets and getting a fix than loving you? Thus, Roger became unimportant, though she hoped that if she took the deal, she could use the money to pay off his debts and find a way to divorce him. All that remained was the difficulty in resigning herself to being his personal whore. She couldn't deny that was the situation being offered he'd provide her with money and additional things in exchange for her companionship, primarily in the bedroom or where ever he'd determined that he wanted to have sex. But still, she needed the money she rationalized that her role would really be that of a kept mistress. And so with four hours until the deadline, Charlotte picked up the phone and called Paul's attorney, just as he'd told her to do if she decided to take the deal, and she told him that the paperwork was signed. It was eight o'clock on a friday night, and by eight fifteen a limo was pulling up to her apartment. She climbed inside to find a dress box, a shoe box, and a box labeled jewelry and make up waiting for her. She was surprised to see that there was even a box marked lingerie. Clearly Paul had thought of everything. By the time, the limo arrived at the dock where she was clearly supposed to board his yacht, Charlotte had changed completely. She stepped out of the limo, and her green eyes scanned the area. Dressed in a tight black strapless dress that only reached a little above the middle of her thighs, her neat hourglass figure was shapely and defined. The lace and silk thong and matching strapless bra were invisible beneath the fabric. A pair of sleek black open toed heels clicked on the ground, a dainty silver anklet glittering. Her dark brown hair was twisted up into an elegant french twist, a pair of diamond studs glittered in her ears, and around her neck was a matching necklace. Charlotte looked like an exotic wealthy woman, with her soft dusty complexion and bright green eyes. The scent of soft rose petals emanated from her skin, and she was escorted onto the deck of Paul's yacht. She was sure that Paul had been informed of her acceptance by his attorney, and so she knew that nothing would ever be the same. There was no one on board that she could see, and she was simply informed by the chauffeur that Paul was waiting for her on board. She assumed that he was below, and she simply called out. Paul! It's Charlotte. When he appeared, she smiled slightly, trying to hide her nervousness.