My marks were two Playboy centerfolds—one present and one past. Five foot ten inches
tall wearing matching three inch black heels, white mid-calf miniskirts, red cleavage
baring blouses, and blue bandanas around their foreheads and ponytails—mother and
daughter.
My pregnant wife is home with our two other children, and my pregnant mistress is
waiting in her apartment for me. They will have to wait as I head toward my targets.
“Excuse me but when I’m in the midst of such beautiful I have to introduce myself,”
I said, to the voluptuous broads as I walked between them taking an arm of each, “my name
is Coy Oates and you are?”
“Pardon me,” the elder of the two asks, removing her arm from mine.
“I’m sorry but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to speak to you,” I said, with my
most charming smile.
The younger lady tried to pull her arm away, but I hold on. “I’m a talent scout for
Photo Shoot Magazine and I’d like to talk to you,” I saw looking down on them from my six
foot four inch height. My piercing dark brown eyes look from one to the other. “Would
either of you be interested in modeling for my magazine?”
They looked me over; I’m wearing a gray two piece Gucci suit with a light blue
shirt, and a red power tie. The outfit goes well with my height, brown hair and facial
features similar to Leonardo DiCaprio along with a neatly trimmed mustache.
“I’m sorry but my daughter and I are having a ladies night out, and we don’t wish
to be interrupted.”
“It’ll be my pleasure to escort you. I know all of the clubs in the Vista,” I said,
smiling at them as though we were old friends.
“Young man we’re not interested in an escort.”
“Even if I can get you into the Front Page News, the hottest singles bar in
Atlanta.”
“You can get us in there?” the younger of the two asked, holding on to his arm and
looking up at him. “I’ve wanted to go there since I turned eighteen. Mother, I’d like to
go, this may be our only chance,” she said, looking at her mother as a daughter who always
got what she wanted.
“Well, if Mr. Oats can get us in and if you want to go, then I guess we should
accept his invitation,” she offered her hand, “I’m Mrs. Cynthia Hutson and my married
daughter is Stephanie Litrell.”
I already knew their names.
I noticed the softness of her hand, the well kept painted nails, and the large
diamond ring on her left hand.
Stephanie’s hand quivered as she took mine. I perceived her tremor and held on a
little longer than necessary.
“Let’s go, the club is only a block away,” I said, taking their arms and strolling
down the street. ”You’re both beautiful women and have the qualities needed by my
magazine. Are you familiar with it?”
Neither of them had, so I explained the goals and needs of a nonexistent photo
magazine.
There was a line of couples and singles waiting to get into Front Page News. I
walked up to the doorman reading his name tag, “Nick, do you have space for three?” I
asked, slipping him a fifty.
“There’s always space for one of our best customers, Coy,” he said, after I mouthed
my name and he led us into the club. “Have a nice time.”
“Very impressive Coy, do all the doormen at the smart clubs know you by name?”
Stephanie asked, holding on to my arm and giving me a smile.
My blondes attracted men like hyenas to carrion. Soon after we were seated and
ordered; two young guys asked them to dance.
“Excuse us Coy, we wanted to find a place where we could dance,” Cynthia said.
“I want to dance with Coy first, Mother,” she said, extending her hand.
On the crowded floor she asked, “Do you dance as well as you look”
“Let’s see,” he said, twirling her around the floor as though he was a
professional.
“Your looks and dancing complement each other,” she said, “I wish my husband was
the same.”
“I assume your husband is handsome and can’t dance?” I asked, leading her on.
“He can’t dance, he can’t hold a job, and he can’t fuck,” she said, embarrassed.
I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I understand, maybe I can help you out with the latter,” he said, smiling
confidently and brushing his hand over her shapely ass.
She said, “Maybe you could but not with mother around.”
“I’ll take care of that. You just have a good time.”
We headed back to the table as the band was at the end of a set. Guys were lined up
to dance with them, and I told them to go ahead and I’d hold the table.
They returned on the arms of different men each time they left. The guys were
disappointed when Cynthia told them they were with me.
“Wow! I need to drink something, all this dancing is making me thirsty and I’m
soaking wet,” Stephanie said, downing two Margaritas in short order. Cynthia drank several
martinis.
I danced with Cynthia. We dance formally but well together. “Stephanie said you
were a great dancer. When I was younger, I danced all the time but now I’m married and my
husband is too busy to take me.”
“I’d be pleased to escort you some evening,” I said, trying to sound impersonal.
“I bet you would and how else would you like to aide me?” she said, looking at me
accusingly.
“My mother raised a gentleman,” I lied, “and as far as I’m concerned an escort is
an escort not anything more.”
“I’m sorry if my comment was out of order.”
“Of course not, I would expect a lady of your breeding to be cautious of men they
just met, even if they were as handsome as me,” I said, laughing with her.
Each time they returned to the table they were muggy and craving something cool to
drink. I always had their favorite beverage available. By eleven they were a little drunk.
Stephanie, sitting beside and leaning against me didn’t remove my hand from her thigh.
Before I could go any further; her mother suggested they leave.
“I’ll be glad to take you wherever you’d like to go,” I said, trying to sound as
much like a gentleman as I could.
“Thanks Coy but you’ve been too kind by providing us with such a good time. I think
we should get cabs, neither of us is capable of driving.”
“I believe you’re right. I’ll take you outside and hail cabs.”
Cynthia led the way out of the club. I walked beside Stephanie rubbing her ass.
She smiled and placed her hand on mine.
I flagged down a cab and got Cynthia in.
“I’ll get a cab for Stephanie,” I said, to Cynthia as her taxi drove away.
I took Stephanie by the hand, “Come on I’ll take you home. My car’s not far from
here.”
She held on to my arm and snuggled close.
“My husband’s going to be angry because I’m coming home so late and being a little
tipsy,” she said. “You’ve been a sweet heart. Thanks for being so helpful.”
I held her by one hand and had my other arm around her waist. “Would you like to
stop and get some coffee so you can sober up before I take you home?” I said, helping her
into the car.
She hesitated, and I said, “At the same time I can show you the studio of Photo
Shoot Magazine.”
“Okay, I guess,” she slurred and fell against me.
“Stephanie, you’re a beautiful desirable woman who would fit perfectly into the
magazine,” I said, placing my hand on her thigh and moving my fingers under her skirt to
her panty line. She didn’t protest and I moved her hand to my erection.
“I shouldn’t,” she said.
The traffic was light as I neared the studio. Stopping at a red light I leaned over
and kissed her passionately and thrust my tongue into her mouth. She didn’t resist and her
hand squeezed my cock.
At the studio, I helped her out of the car.
“I think you should take me home. I’m likely to do something I shouldn’t.
I took her into my arms, kissed her passionately with my tongue exploring her
mouth, and my hand inside her panties tickling her ass. She responded to my kiss and hand
by rubbing her pelvis against my erection.
I carried her into the building and directly to a small room with a bed. Lying on
the bed, she giggled as I tickled her, raised her hips as I removed her skirt and panties,
sat up as I pulled her blouse and bra over her head. She was beautiful, shapely, stacked,
and willing.
“Are you going to fuck me?” she asked, slurring her words as I undressed.
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