Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

The Caribbean sun shimmered brightly upon her oiled bikini-clad body. She lay back upon a beach chair, listening to the waves lapping at the shore just a stone’s throw away from her recently pedicured toes. The taste of Pina Colada was on her lips, and only the faint hum of a jet ski could be heard over the waves and cool ocean breeze.

The ch-ching sound effect of a cash register emanating from her cell phone, tucked away in the beach bag beneath her chair broke the silence, but it was not an unwelcome sound. She glanced up at the cloudless sky through her sunglasses and noted that it looked just a tad more beautiful than it had a moment before her phone’s alert, and she made the slightest of smiles. She took another sip of her Colada before reaching beneath her chair to retrieve the source of both the noise and her happiness.

“You have received a tribute!” the notification read. She already knew it would say that, but the amount and the name of the sender was listed below.

A user named BarryJ sent her $30. She’d been hoping for more; she always hoped for more, even when she got hundred dollar tributes, which the previous night she had. Still, it was $30 she hadn’t had seconds earlier, that had simply been given to her, as a gift, from one of her many clients.

She typed out a text to her generous pay piggy, “Your tribute made me smile, Barry. I’ve got my eye on you. There’s a chance you might end up on my Good Boy List. Would you like to find out how?”

She hit send and set her phone to her side. She knew that BarryJ knew exactly how to end up on her Good Boy List, but pretending there was a bit of mystery to it tended to make the spendy boys spendier, she found. She didn’t have to wait long for his reply.

“Yes mistress, please tel me howwww!” his message said, and she could feel the whine behind it. She rolled her eyes at the quadruple w and responded,

“Double that tribute if you really want to make me smile. Want to make me WET? Triple it. I’m waiting.”

No sooner had she sent the reply that her phone rang. A different client, max45, was calling. She took three seconds to prepare herself, and answered.

“Where have you been, you fool?” she demanded. “I haven’t gotten my weekly tithe from you. You owe me $50, plus a $20 late fee!”

“I’m sorry, mistress. I was so busy this weekend and- oh shit, my wife just walked in!”

She heard a click and the call ended. She dropped her phone in the sand beside her, annoyed. One minute calls- annoying for vanilla phone sex workers, but for dommes like her, a toss-up. It depended on what impact she could make on the caller’s weak pliable mind that determined whether the call had indeed been worth her while.

As she sucked the last of her Pina Colada through her straw, her phone made the cash register sound effect- twice. She glanced at the screen. BarryJ and max45 had each sent her tributes. She didn’t bother looking at the amounts. She tucked the phone back into her beach bag and stared up again at the sky.

It wasn’t even noon, and today was shaping up to be a beautiful day.

$ $ $ $ $

Chapter One: The Sort of Man Who Does This Kind of Thing

Martin Hambly’s mailbox was empty when he peered inside. Surprised not to have any ads today, he shut the metal box closed and trudged upstairs to his one-bedroom apartment to let himself inside. He dropped his keys with an unceremonious chunk upon the kitchen counter and slung his coat across the back of his couch.

Another day, another dollar. Actually, several dollars today. Martin took his paycheck from his pocket and took another look at it. Not a bad haul for two weeks of drudgery at the bank. He dropped his paycheck onto the counter and opened the refrigerator. Ignoring several expired food items lined up on each shelf, Martin grabbed himself a beer and shut the fridge door.

The wedding invitation held to the door by a small doughnut-shaped magnet stared back at him. Only six months before his brother Miles would be married. Martin would be the last of Hamblys to remain single at the age of 38, much to his family’s disappointment.

Martin had inherited the worst traits from each of his parents. He had his father’s heavy build and receding hairline, and his mother’s height and poor eyesight. Put together, he was 5’3, chubby, had a balding head, and coke bottle eyeglasses. He was the shortest, fattest, baldest, and blindest of his brothers, all of which did no favors to his love life.

The invitation requested that Martin RSVP with any possible plus ones, which made him laugh. He’d never been in a long-term relationship and didn’t expect one anytime soon. He’d never dated any woman more than twice; sooner or later every woman he courted had some reason or another why the relationship wasn’t working and would cut ties with him- with or without an explanation.

By the time Martin was 30, he’d resigned himself to being a bachelor for life. It made things istanbul travesti easier, that was for sure. Never having to worry about whether or not he had a chance with the cashier at the grocery store or the babe in apartment 4B was actually a relief when he’d finally accepted that he didn’t.

And the money he’d saved from rarely dating built up over the years. He’d amassed quite a bit in his savings and retirement accounts. If nothing else, his financial future was secure. He might not have been the happiest man in the world, but he enjoyed the security and independence that came from living a life free from women.

And yet… the photograph of Miles and his wife-to-be happily smiling taunted him. There was happiness out there; Miles was no looker and he’d found someone.

You could find someone too, Martin. If you gave it half an effort, the nagging voice in his head told him. Are you really happier with all that money just building up?

Martin took another glance at the paycheck he’d left on his kitchen counter and let out a disdainful, “pffft!”

He took a swig of his beer and made his way to his computer.

His profile on SoulMatch.com was still active. He hadn’t logged on in weeks, and he had to jog his memory a bit before even remembering his password, but there it was. As usual, his inbox was empty. The three messages he’d gotten since he’d signed up to the site had since disappeared; the senders having deleted their profiles.

Effort, Martin. Put some effort into it.

He took a moment to update his photo; he knew he wasn’t exactly model material but he figured he should at least put up a photo where he didn’t look as though he were about to sneeze. An “About Me” section that made him seem at least somewhat interesting would help as well. He removed “Nate and the Nutbusters” from his list of favorite bands since that never seemed to go over well with the ladies. Martin made some quick updates and resumed his search.

There were plenty of women online; Martin clicked through their profiles and sighed. Most of them were as awkward and desperate as he was. Once every two pages he’d stumble across a babe. Martin would quickly “ping” her, and type up a message to make himself stand out from the onslaught of messages she was likely receiving. When she didn’t reply or ping back within a minute he’d move on to the next profile and try again.

It didn’t take long for Martin to remember why he’d given up online dating years ago. So few decent options, and so few replies. Growing weary of trying to sound fresh time and again, he started copy-and-pasting his outgoing message and mailing as many women as he could.

By seven o’clock, Martin had messaged nearly 50 women and had yet to receive a reply. Sighing, he closed his browser and picked up his phone to order dinner. A new episode of Honor Among Thieves was on at nine, and Martin never missed it. He ate his Chinese takeout in front of the TV, and when the episode was over, he closed his eyes and fell fast asleep.

$ $ $ $ $

Martin awoke with a startle. He was still on the couch, and the TV was still flickering. He checked the clock and saw it was 12:30 at night. He’d been more tired than he thought. He threw away his greasy chopsticks and empty food container, and before heading to bed, decided to check his inbox on SoulMatch.

He’d gotten seven pings. Excited, Martin checked them out.

The first was from a mid-fifties woman. Her profile was empty except for a single photo of her staring at the camera with her mouth hanging open and drooling. Martin deleted it and flipped to the next profile.

A profile of a frowning woman his age with the headline “DONT MESSAGE ME IF YOUR LOOKING FOR SEX” stared back at him. Martin deleted it and moved on.

The next three profiles were of little improvement. Martin knew he was no stud but still couldn’t fathom why he couldn’t garner better replies than this. The sixth ping came from an attractive younger woman with the screen name greenmeadows. Martin looked at her photo. She had pretty eyes, and a beautiful smile. He clicked and read her bio and was intrigued.

The main problem was the smoking. Every photo of her, she was holding a cigarette. Martin hated the smell and disliked the sense of apathy a smoker had for their own health. He wanted that to be a deal-breaker, but she was the best response he’d gotten yet. He decided to check his last ping.

His heart skipped. Her screen name was MissNadine, and she was a sultry goddess. She had long beautiful dark hair and piercing green eyes. She stared at him from his screen with a come-hither smile, daring Martin to place a kiss on her full succulent lips. He reached out and dragged his fingertips across his monitor. Why on Earth did this woman have interest in him?

She’s out of your league, Martin. Don’t even bother.

Martin clicked her profile and flipped through her photos. istanbul travestileri She was absolutely stunning in every one of them. He wondered if she’d hired a professional photographer to take them, but some of them appeared to be selfies and she appeared equally gorgeous. Even her headline quote stood out to him.

“Never pick a rose if you aren’t prepared to bleed.”

Martin knew that quote. It was a line from the first episode of Honor Among Thieves. Martin scrolled through her profile and sure enough, it was listed among her favorite shows.

“Sweet mother Mary,” Martin said aloud, staring at her beautiful pictures. “Located 5.8 miles away” the text underneath her name read. He could practically walk to her.

He typed up a reply as quickly as he could. “Hello there! You look gorgeous! What are you up to tonight?” He hit send.

Really, Martin? That’s the best you could come up with?

His excitement deflated the instant he sent the message. It was a lame opener, he knew it. The likelihood that she would reply, when she undoubtedly received hundreds of emails a night, was infinitesimally small. Although, she did ping him. That reason alone kept him watching his empty inbox with baited breath in the hope that it might get filled.

He waited two minutes. Then five. Then ten. And then got up from his chair and changed out of his work suit. He proceeded to brush his teeth and hoped perhaps if he checked his mail again in the morning, a reply might have arrived.

He was about to head off to bed when he heard a distinct ping coming from his computer. Martin raced back to his chair and checked his inbox. He had one unread message. From MissNadine.

“Hi Hambone! I’m listening to some music in my apartment alone and dancing. Even though I can’t dance, lol. Real exciting Friday night, I know! Wish I had a handsome guy here with me! Know any? ;)”

Martin chuckled and typed out a reply.

“Sorry, just an ugly guy here. Sounds like your night is more exciting than mine. What are you listening to?”

He hit send. Being humble seemed like a good strategy. He just prayed she would not agree with his assessment of his own looks. She replied two minutes later.

“Oh, you are a CUTIE!!! Don’t judge, but I’m in my panties and bra dancing to Nate and the Nutbusters. Don’t care what you say I love them. They make me horny.”

Martin’s mouth dropped. “Be still my heart,” he said, staring at her mail. He typed a reply.

“I LOVE NNB! You’re the first woman I’ve ever met that likes them! Are you kidding me?”

He shot off the message as fast as he could. Five minutes later she responded, but her message was empty except for a link. Martin clicked it.

A window popped up, and automatically played a five-second video showing Nadine in her bra and panties, dancing to the song Happy Cunt. Martin stared at the video in awe. This beautiful half-naked woman was dancing to his all-time favorite song, and her enormous breasts looked like they were about to pop out of her bra. God almighty, this woman was perfect.

“Okay, I’m sold. When is our wedding?”

He hit send. He fidgeted nervously, hoping she would understand that he was being facetious. He was ready to hang himself with the belt of his bathrobe if he lost out on this woman on account of a terrible joke.

She replied two minutes later with the message “LMAO. You make me smile. Let’s chat more! Make an account on Phone Phantasy and message me there. Bye!”

Martin sat back in his chair. A thousand boulders tumbled onto his chest. Of course it would be a ploy. He clicked the link she included, already knowing what he would find.

Rows and rows of listings of beautiful women advertising their services for pay-by-the-minute phone sex and cam shows. Martin’s heart sank.

You stupid dumbass.

He kicked himself for not seeing it sooner. He was a hopeless sap; even in thinking for a second that a woman as beautiful as Nadine would have any non-monetary interest in a balding, overweight bank teller. He closed his browser and stormed off to the kitchen for a drink.

$ $ $ $ $

“How many?” the hostess asked.

“Two,” Martin said awkwardly. It had been a long time since he’d requested a table for two. He looked around the crowded restaurant. “Do you have a smoking section?”

“On the patio. Right this way, baby!”

Martin looked at the hostess with surprise. No one ever called him baby. He rather liked it. It was a shame the women he dated never used pet names on him like that. He excitedly followed the smiling young lady past the bar and out the side door to a brick-laden patio, fenced off from the nearby street. Martin took a seat at a small round wire mesh table and the hostess placed two menus in front of him.

“Your server will be with you shortly!”

As she walked away, Martin laid a bouquet of carnations in front of the empty chair across from him. travesti istanbul He hoped Cami would appreciate them. More than that, he hoped that she would appreciate his willingness to sit in a smoking section. He’d spent two weeks messaging women on SoulMatch and she was the only one that he found remotely attractive who was willing to meet him for a date. Acknowledging that he was the living embodiment of the phrase, “beggars can’t be choosers,” Martin held his breath until the majority of the smoke cloud had passed.

He kept his eyes on the restaurant entrance, watching for her. Numerous couples entered together, as well as families with children, but no unaccompanied women.

He checked his watch and saw it was five past seven. Martin shot Cami a text asking if she was on her way. She replied with, “I don’t know yet. What are you doing?”

“Sitting at the table, waiting for you” he replied. He arched his eyebrow, hoping she hadn’t forgotten about him. She responded shortly.

“Sorry. That message was for someone else.”

Martin felt his hopes dwindle. Whatever plans Cami had for tonight, he had doubts that they involved him. She messaged him again five minutes later.

“Sorry i can’t make it tonight. I have to take my cat to the vet. She throwing up everywhere.”

His spirit deflated. He grabbed the flowers from the table and walked straight out of the restaurant, ignoring the waiter who had just arrived at the empty table to take his drink order. When he arrived back at his apartment building, he saw his beautiful blonde neighbor Dayna checking her mailbox.

“Hi Stephen!” she said as he entered through the doorway.

“Martin,” he corrected.

“Sorry, Martin! How are you?” she asked.

“Been better. Got stood up for a date. Want some flowers?”

“Ooh, I LOVE carnations!” she took the bouquet from him and smelled them. “Been a long time since a guy has given me flowers! Thank you!”

Martin slipped his hands in his pockets.

“So, uh, you doing anything tonight?”

Dayna laughed. “No, probably just watching Netflix in my pajama pants!”

“Well, feel free to come over and watch Netflix at my place. I’m right next door.”

“Sure, definitely!” she said. “Be over in fifteen, kay?”

Martin was smiling when he returned to his apartment. His lovely company would get Cami out of his mind and the cologne he’d put on would not go to waste. He fired up Netflix and took two beers out of the fridge to be ready for her arrival. No sooner did the menu of movies pop up that Martin heard the roar of an engine out in the parking lot.

He glanced out the window to see a bright red Mustang had stopped in front of the building. The driver revved the engine three times, before an attractive blonde came scurrying out the building.

“Oh my God, Bobby! What are you doing here?” Dayna exclaimed. She wrapped her arms around the tall handsome man as he exited the driver’s seat and she planted a warm wet kiss on his lips and added, “I’ve missed you so much, baby!”

Baby. The word cut Martin like a knife.

He watched despondently at the two of them enter the vehicle, and the man revved the engine once more before he sped off. Martin opened the first of the two beers in his hands and set the second on the end table beside his couch for later.

He was spending the evening alone; he was resigned to that now. When he’d been stood up by his Plan B and his Plan C, it was time to throw in the towel. He walked over to his computer to check his SoulMatch account.

No new messages. No pings. The ladies simply weren’t interested. He looked through his inbox at his existing mails, and stopped on Nadine’s. She really would have been perfect. If only she were real. Of course, she was a real person; Martin had to remind himself. Just not someone who would genuinely date him. But she was someone he could converse with, albeit for money. Having arrived at the end of his rope, and his evening plans wide open, he clicked the link she’d given him to PhonePhantasy.com.

The front page showed a menu of twenty available girls, ready to take his call now. There was Angie, who specialized in daddy/daughter play. Christine, who liked girl-next-door games. Doris, who enjoyed cuckoldry. All beautiful girls trying to entice him to pick up his phone.

Near the bottom of the page he saw her. Mistress Nadine, financial dominatrix. Martin stared at her picture. It was the same woman from SoulMatch, but here she was clad in a leather corset and panties, tapping a riding crop against her gloved hand.

Martin clicked on her photo. The banner on her profile read, “Financial Domination with Mistress Nadine: Surrender to Your Inhibitions.” Below the header a counter read, “000 Men Ruined.” As the page loaded, the zeroes counted upwards, stopping when they reached 118. Martin stared at the sub header for a moment, processing the mistress’ boast that she had ruined 118 men. She was certainly gorgeous enough that Martin could believe she could ruin a man or two.

He scrolled down the page to look at the rest of her alluring photos and read her text. Bright red letters warned him, “CALLING MISTRESS NADINE MAY BE HIGHLY HAZARDOUS TO YOUR BANK ACCOUNT.” He wondered if that was indeed the case.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32