Chapter 4

Monday started quiet; I left the girls -- almost without worries -- and went to work as usual; they could have cleaned me out before this, and it certainly appeared that they were better off not doing so. I still tended to underestimate the value of their 'training'; theoretically, they would rather live, so they wouldn't chance crossing me, even though they ought to have realized by then that they were perfectly safe. Actually, from their perspective, they were a lot safer 'working' for me than they would have been anywhere else -- and, well, they were right, weren't they?

But word of mouth was circulating, even if I wasn't the mouth; my manager appeared in my cube and said, "I hear you have a new side business."

I don't like Tony -- he's an ineffectual middle-management suck-up with no guts and delusions of grandeur -- oh, and a slimy asshole. "Is that a problem?"

"Not if you come to work, I guess," Tony replied, looking like it hurt him to say so. "I hear it's house cleaning or something."

"I have a couple of girls who cook or clean or otherwise help out for a fee," I replied, "Domestic and personal services, that kind of thing."

"How much do they charge for a one bedroom place?"

"Depends on what you need," I replied, eyeing him. "We would probably want to get a look before making an estimate."

"So you don't have a standard price list," Tony ventured.

This had started sounding like a vice cop trying to get a hooker to commit to something so he could arrest her for soliciting. "We're still shaking down, balancing the costs of supplies and the amount of work against what we think the traffic will bear. Besides, we don't want to get pigeonholed into being just a cleaning service," I replied carefully.

"When could I get one of these estimates?" Tony asked.

"After work?" I replied. "I can drag one of the girls around..."

Tony grunted. "Might take both."

I shrugged, "Then it probably won't be fifty bucks, you know?"

"Yeah." He scratched his address and home phone on a sticky note and handed it to me. "About six?"

"Okay." When he was gone, I called Manny. "Did you talk to Tony?"

"That asshole? No way! But it's a buzz..."

"Thanks for the advertizing -- I think," I grunted.

"Any time," Manny chuckled.

I called the house; the girls were ready when I got home. In the car, I told them, "Look, this guy is my boss -- and I don't like him, particularly. You do what you want as far as giving him things -- but make him pay for it. I'd like to have something on him when this is over, not the other way around."

"Hokay, Boss!" Luz nodded, grinning.

"They're pregnant!" Tony hissed to me as we swept through the door. Tony's 'bachelor pad' was a mess; I wouldn't want to clean the sty.

"Yeah, I noticed," I muttered back, thinking, 'Fucking idiot...' The girls split up professionally and went all over the place, calling out questions from different rooms. I had a little work order or estimate sheet that had some verbiage about what we were and were not liable for and I stood there with Tony, not saying much while they did their inspection.

When they came back, they discussed things in low whispers and Darla asked Tony, "How clean do you want it and how fast?"

Tony shrugged. "Clean. Like it was when I moved in. Tonight?"

Darla frowned. "That's both of us, maybe four hours. Three hundred."

Tony blanched. "That much?"

"The CDC ought to declare that bathroom a biological warfare lab," Darla said flatly. "We're probably underestimating. But it's a flat rate -- three hundred -- plus materials. We might have to send Donnie for more cleaning materials." I scratched that on the work order and handed it to Tony. It was his move; if he was aware of the other services the girls provided, he would pay -- besides, one look at that sty said no one was getting cheated.

"Okay..." Tony grunted after a moment's thought. I handed Tony the work order. "Pay the man," Darla ordered flatly, "We'll want the deposit up front."

Fortunately, I had gotten merchant services on the Maids Plus website I'd set up Sunday evening; Tony wanted to pay by credit card. It was all tied to that fancy bookkeeping program everybody knows about -- and our bank. It's amazing what you can do online these days. Tony fed the site his numbers and even got a receipt from his printer. In the meantime, Luz went down to the car and got mops and buckets and other crap.

"We're gonna need more stuff, Boss," Darla told me -- and rattled off a list. I was going to have to look for a wholesale cleaning supplies outlet. "Come on back when you've got it." Then she winked at me as we reached the door. I nodded and let myself out.

It took me an hour to get the stuff and return to Tony's. Darla opened the door a crack and accepted the stuff, saying loudly, "You don't want to come in here, Boss. Call Tony about nine-thirty to see if we're done." She winked at me again, grinning, so I just nodded and went away... At nine-thirty, Luz said, "Come pick me up, Boss. Darla is gonna finish up alone. Tony will bring her home." So I went and got Luz -- and most of the cleaning equipment. I had an invoice for the additional, which Luz took inside to present Tony with.

In the car, Luz said, "You right, Boss. Tony is an asshole." He had barely waited for the door to close behind me before shelling out an additional hundred to have the girls clean in the nude and the bill had shot up sharply from there. Luz did most of the cleaning while Darla split her time between that and entertaining; I gathered that Tony was a bit racist, among his other sterling qualities, and Luz was only good for domestic duties as long as Darla was around. I was willing to bet he would 'lower himself' if Darla wasn't around, though...

Luz hit the kitchen to make a late dinner -- sandwiches -- and went upstairs to shower; I didn't get in her way, believing she'd earned a cleanup and to be able to relax. Frankly, I didn't expect the meal. At around eleven, about the time Luz and I settled on the couch to watch the news, Darla came through the door. Reaching in the pocket of her maternity stretchpants, she fished out four hundred dollars in crumpled bills. "Normally, when I go around the world, I give a discount -- but that bastard I did a la carte," she laughed. Apparently, going around the world a la carte cost three hundred...

"Did you keep any?" I asked.

Darla cocked her head. "No."

"Why not? You've got baby things to buy..."

Darla shook her head as if to clear it. "Donnie, the last time Roscoe asked me that question, he stripped me naked to make sure and slapped me around a little, threatening to get serious about it if he found out I was lying and had stashed some money somewhere..."

"Fuck..." I rubbed my forehead. "I'm not Roscoe. I would suck as a pimp, per se. I'm your boss -- your business manager. Yeah, I expect to at least recoup some expenses out of this deal, but not one hundred percent."

"Well, we're behind on startup payments -- aren't we, Luz?" Darla replied. "If you're holding the money, I know where to get it from."

"Yeah, okay, whatever. I'll put it toward the health insurance premiums or something," I muttered. "Luz made you a sandwich."

"Let me wash the taste of Tony out of my mouth first," Darla replied and headed for the bathroom.

Darla wolfed down her sandwich and we watched Letterman in bed, the three of us. I was willing to let things pass, but Luz seemed to feel that the day wasn't over until my balls were empty, so I did her doggie. It didn't hurt me or anything. Hell, I hadn't had a lot of pussy, but either one of them put anything else in my experience on the street. I wonder how many women know to loosen up on the in-stroke and clamp down on the out-stroke? Darla and Luz had it down pat in all three holes...

Tuesday morning Luz made me eggs and bacon and passed on sex -- which was fine. I was getting so much I didn't know what to do with myself. I was Tony's favorite guy at work -- and he had a big mouth, too, from my instant popularity. Four or five of the guys made sure I went out to lunch with them so they could pump me for info. "So, hey," Mike Fowler asked, "Do these girls do parties?"

"You mean like wait staff?' I asked, pretending ignorance, "Yeah, I imagine they would. Maybe planning and catering, too -- I'd have to ask." Manny sat off to one side, grinning. "We would kind of have to look the situation over before agreeing to do it -- and pricing is negotiable."

"Uh huh," Jock Matthews grunted. "Who negotiates?"

"Well, we figure out a basic price for the job at the outset," I replied, "but if you want something extra, the girls will work it out with you on the spot." I was enjoying the doubletalk.

"So they do laundry and shit?" Jock pressed.

"Oh, yeah, sure..." I waved it off.

"Hey, you know, I do poker at my place on Thursdays..." Mike rejoined.

"Yeah? Is that the kind of party you're talking about?" I asked. "That sounds simple. Keep the food and drink flowing..."

"Yeah..." Mike's eyes glazed over. "Do they have uniforms?"

"If you were looking for something special, we could probably work it in -- but these chicks, well, they're preggers right now, you know? Fancy uniforms might get costly and wouldn't have much of a shelf life."

"Yeah, they're probably better off without..." Manny interjected, then looked carefully away... Somebody snorted...

In the afternoon, I got an email from Mike, seriously asking about a Thursday night gig. I wrote back that we should probably come out and have a look at his place and lay out the job and pricing and we set a date for that evening. I picked up the girls and we cased Mike's joint...

Mike had a small studio apartment that needed some cleaning -- and a poker table. I was all business, and so were the girls, talking about food and alcohol and setup and takedown and what in general would be expected. Mike got in a few double-entendres, but Darla kept it clean in my presence, telling him "We need to get the basics down, first." When we'd about exhausted everything, Darla said, "I think that's the basics. Anything else, we can talk about as we go."

I took that as my cue. "Okay, "I'll write this up downstairs and email it to you, Mike. We'll want the basics in advance, and the cost of any special equipment or supplies, so make sure Darla knows everything."

"Yeah, sure..." Mike eyed me dubiously.

Darla took his arm and led him off a bit, "I'm sure you want to see our resumes..." I hit the door.

Fifteen minutes later, the girls were downstairs. Luz grinned from ear to ear and tossed fifty bucks at me. "He wanted a test drive, Boss."

"What ELSE does he want?" I asked.

"Nude service," Darla replied. "Something hot and sexy to start, but nudity to follow. The boys pay their own way, sexually. He wanted to know what would happen if he invited you; I told him you get pussy for free." She eyed me, grinning. "You had him running, there -- he wasn't sure whether you knew about the hooking or not! I told him if it got out generally that you did, he could cross us off his Christmas card list. I let him know we were into plausible deniability."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, like at a massage parlor. So, he likes Luz?"

"He's gonna be a regular, Boss -- watch and see!" Luz cackled.

I took them to dinner at one of those Mediterranean chain restaurants and we all ate well, then went home -- and it was apparently Darla's night for ball draining. We experimented with various things and ended up basically in the missionary position with me upright and Darla spread under me with her butt up on a couple of pillows. I took my time and took it easy and made a serious effort to bring her pleasure -- which she seemed to appreciate, but....

Darla and Luz were different that way. Luz showed every indication of enjoying her sex, from actively asking for it and pursuing it to some pretty genuine noises while she was getting it. Darla was a lot more reserved -- and you just couldn't tell. I was pretty sure she did some acting for johns, but we'd made this agreement that she wouldn't fake it for me, so I got her genuine reactions, which were, well, less than encouraging. I wondered if the Armenian had killed her sexual response while training her to be the perfect sex object... When I'd pumped a load into her, I asked, rather guiltily, "Was it any fun at all?"

She reached up and caressed my cheek. "Of course it was. You're the first person in quite a while to really care and I feel bad about it, but I just can't peak right now. Maybe it's the baby. But I wouldn't ask if it wasn't fun -- I'd just let Luz monopolize you." I sighed and shrugged it off; probably she wouldn't, actually, since she needed my support...

Wednesday, I got more Q & A sessions, but no requests -- which I figured was a good thing. That night, the girls dragged me off to a couple of stores they'd researched on the net for their 'uniforms' for Thursday evening's poker party at Mike's. Apparently any old lingerie shop can provide a black push-up bra that exposes the nipples, if you look hard; skirts were another matter. The girls found one size fits all short frilly petticoat skirts in black with white petticoats beneath -- all one piece, with elastic waistbands -- at a dancewear shop. The things stuck straight out almost, like a tutu, and only the bulk of the white ruffles beneath kept you from seeing anything and everything easily. French maid hats were next, and no-nonsense black three-inch heels; 'fuck me' shoes are a specialty item, apparently -- they knew where to get them, but it would take time. I figured they were awkward enough without that, for now. Then, as advertized, we went to the Salvation Army Thrift Store for two cribs, a changing table, and a chest of drawers.

Thursday, I got home as early as I could; the girls went off to set up at Mike's in sweats -- in my car -- with their party costumes in the back. I waited for the Salvation Army delivery truck to come with the furniture that would put an end to my office by turning it into a nursery and shifted my computers and stuff into the living room. Did I worry about giving the girls my car? Not a lot. Taking my car and leaving didn't seem to fit the profile for either of them; quite aside from the fact that it clearly wasn't in their best interests, they'd both been trained to fear reprisals. The truck came and I helped the guys muscle the battered cribs and stuff into the freight elevator and into my apartment; the security guard was obviously dazed and confused as to why I would want to take on a mismatched set of pregnant women...

The girls got back around midnight, tired but apparently none the worse for the wear -- and with $1100 in their combined pockets. "A hundred is from Mike for the additional 2 hours," Darla related, "and the rest is from 'options.' There were five of them, and they averaged two hundred apiece."

I shook my head. "How does this compare with how you did under Roscoe?" I asked.

"LOTS better!" Darla exclaimed. "Roscoe had us out on street corners. I'd be the first to agree that a pregnant woman in skimpy clothes on a street corner is, well, sad..."

"Didn't he arrange incall or outcall?" I asked amazed.

"Not often. It was too much work, as far as he was concerned," Darla related. "He was afraid of internet stings, too, I think. Desperation led him to accept your offer to meet..."

"I couldn't find an outcall hooker with a divining rod, but I'm sure they're around..." I mused.

"Oh, yeah -- but they tend to be in a different class..." Darla replied.

"Technically?" I argued, "I doubt it. They just get more money to cover the facilities and the infrastructure support. From where I'm sitting, you have all of the basic tools -- and some advanced ones, for that matter."

"Why thank you, Sir!" Darla dimpled and curtsied. Luz grinned in the background. "Mike is talking about a longer party on Friday or Saturday night next week... One of the guys was talking about bringing his wife -- something about her thinking being pregnant wasn't sexy."

I pursed my lips. "Are you up for that? Did you have any problems? I don't suppose that one did anything..."

Darla laughed. "Are you kidding? Luz rode him twice! He was our biggest customer!" She sobered. "No, they were all good boys. We know how to handle johns, as a rule."

"If there gets to be a crowd, someone might get ideas," I mused.

"Gang banging a pregnant lady?" Darla arched an eyebrow. "Most guys would be pretty troubled about that. Besides, if Whatshisname brings his wife, that could get REAL sticky..."

"It's your call, Hon," I told her. "The way things are set up I can't really sit there with a gun in my waistband or whatever. Did you commit?"

"I told him to have you check our schedule," Darla replied, grinning. "That way you can jack him a little over the weekend rate or whatever."

"Okay. You girls run along and get a soak and clean up," I directed. "Come to bed when you're ready. I have to go to work, still..."

Darla kissed my left cheek and Luz my right and they headed off, gabbing in that polyglot that was apparently pidgin Filipino. It could be Spanish or whatever -- I'm no good at any language not spoken by a computer. In a minute or two, there were squeals and they came boiling into the bedroom to thank me for the nursery setup, then wandered off again. I got into bed and went to sleep; sometime later, I was the filling in a warm, soft sandwich.

Friday, Mike's card party was the rage. I carried the official line; Mike had paid for setup, cleanup, and waitress service -- and rumors that more may have gone on were... troubling... Mike pulled me aside and asked, "No bullshit -- you know what went on, right?"

"Not knowing keeps me from being arrested for being a pimp," I told him. "Officially, I know nothing and see nothing and hear nothing -- that way I can post their bail if they get picked up, rather than being in the next holding cell over. Get it? I'm a legitimate employer; if the girls offer personal services on an independent basis, it's none of my business."

"So you're not a pimp?"

"Pimps don't offer medical insurance and a 401K or pay salary and unemployment benefits," I replied.

"Yeah..." Mike nodded. "I get it. Way cool."

"I'm trying to take care of the girls," I told him. "It costs money and the girls had their profession before I ever met them. I'm just giving them a better deal than their last employer. Money you pay me goes toward their trip to the maternity ward." I fished a receipt out of my pocket. "This is for the money you paid for the extra two hours. My books have to be clean, you know? It's for their protection."

Mike nodded and patted me on the back and we parted company.

We had calls on the answering machine Friday evening, and it became clear that we were going to have to pick up a couple of shitbox cars so the girls could operate independent of me and each other. I got no rest that night; I ended up putting Darla and Luz out at two different sites in sequence and picking them up the same way after two hours. I ate dinner at a burger joint and grumbled about it -- but the girls pulled in another six-fifty, two hundred of which was legit cleaning.

Saturday was, oddly, a down day. We relaxed and handled personal business such as hitting some used car lots for something for the girls to drive. We narrowed things to an old Toyota and an old Saturn, and I went off to the bank to harass them over business checks -- but we weren't going to see anything on that front for a couple of days. Ultimately, I paid a cash down payment on the Saturn from the girls' war chest and Darla drove it home. As it turned out, neither of them had been allowed to retain their drivers licenses, so we had THAT to accomplish. Luz had her green card and her birth documents -- even her marriage license -- but Darla had been stripped of hers; we had to apply online for a duplicate birth certificate and Social Security card. Once we had those, we could start rebuilding their identities; at this point, I couldn't even get business debit cards in their names. Well, we had cash...

In the evening, we got a call for a Sunday football party; the three of us piled into my car and went off to case the place and the guy, who was a friend of an acquaintance of one of the guys at work. I played straight man while we haggled over setup and cleaning prior to the party and after, then, as usual, I left the client alone with the girls. Luz gave him a demo dick vacuum and the girls returned to the car with the announcement that the party was a go. We went home and Darla cooked and we settled in to watch a movie and cuddle on the couch for a while, but Darla grabbed my hand about nine p.m. and said, "Let's go to bed."

My ego was still a little bruised, so I insisted upon racking her back and giving her a serious tongue job. THAT worked like gangbusters; Darla finally demonstrated for me how she handled a genuine cum, gasping and grunting and straining and pumping fluids onto my face. That seemed to pop the lock on the door for my cock, too, because when she dragged me up and I plugged in, she threw another orgasm just before I did, complete with cunt-clutching and getting copiously wet. I went to sleep vindicated -- and she went to sleep happy; we were both long gone when Luz came in and snuggled up after sitting through the end of her movie.

Luz wanted hers in the morning; Darla went off to make me waffles while I poked Luz's kid in the eye with my cock. He did a lot of kicking while Luz fucked, in any case, so I figured I must have irritated him. Luz CERTAINLY didn't let it stop her; I think she got off on the baby making itself known in there. She got off two or three times since I had somewhat numb morning wood and had gotten a good, ball-draining cum from Darla the evening before; I hoped I wasn't tearing up anything she would need later.

After breakfast, I sent the girls off and watched the game myself; the team I was rooting for lost. I got a little restive after a couple of hours, but Darla called and said that the guy had a football package on cable or satellite and that they were likely to go another game or so. I thanked her, but I worried.

They got home around six, clearly exhausted, but with $2200 in cash plus a check for the additional four hours at the 'standard service rate.' Apparently, the guys made bets and the loser had to pay for the winner to butt-fuck one of the girls based upon the outcome of the quarter or whatever while the girl wore the losing team's jersey. Since that was the most expensive thing on the menu and it tended to work up the others, the girls had plenty of business. "They were drained husks when we left them," Darla cackled.

"How do YOU do it?" I asked.

"Practice," Darla replied. "Some girls can't go on after a fuck or two -- but the Armenian tended to weed them out. Then, after a while working, you get the hang of it. Any woman can outlast any three guys on any given day -- they just need recovery time afterward. A working girl just learns to recover. Practice makes perfect..."

We got take-out Chinese; I don't particularly like it, but the girls seemed to and that was what mattered. Both of them took a good, long soak -- together -- and I sat on the pot and talked when they felt like saying anything and gave my girls a good non-sexual wash when they asked for it, and generally enjoyed the view. We watched TV in bed and all three of us dropped off early.