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It was a string of mundane circumstances that led me into this bizarre
situation.  I can't say that I have no regrets, I have lots.  But at 
the same time I have learnt so much about myself and my body I would 
never have discovered in any other circumstances. 

It had always been a stretch of my bank balance to keep my mum in her
nursing home.  There were cheaper options but I couldn't live with 
myself if I had let my mum disappear into one of those depressing 
institutions where old folk just seemed to be sat waiting to die.  
'Autumn Pastures' gave its resident's privacy and respect, as well as 
providing constant medical supervision.  It was just a shame they 
charged so much for their excellent services.  Normally I managed to 
scrape together enough money but this month by ancient Ford Escort had 
died on the roadside.  I had to have transport to work so I had no 
choice but to pay for repairs.  Which had left me in the embarrassing 
position of being sat in the office of the chief administrator of 
'Autumn Pastures', begging for some leeway on payment of the fees.  She 
was very gracious and allowed me a month's grace, but I got the 
impression she knew as well as I did there was no way I would be able 
to save enough money. 

I trailed despondently out of the building, trying to decide if buying a
hundred lottery tickets or robbing a bank was my best option.  I was so 
sunk in despondency that when I hand tapped my shoulder it startled me 
so much I couldn't help giving a yelp.  I span round to see a stranger 
smiling apologetically at me. 

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he said.  "Oh dear, this
isn't the best way to start what has the potential to be a very 
embarrassing for both of us.  Please understand that I am only trying 
to be helpful, not offensive." 

"Er, OK," I said, understandably baffled by his cryptic remarks. He
appeared to be an ordinary looking middle-aged man, not in the least 
threatening. 

"Right, I have been very bad-mannered.  You see, I couldn't help but
overhear your recent conversation in the administrator's office," he 
explained.  "I had been using the bathroom attached to the office and 
once I realised you were unaware of my presence it was impossible to 
make a graceful exit without causing embarrassment to everyone." 

"So why are you now telling me this now?" I asked. 

"Oh dear, I hope you will not misunderstand my intentions, I only wish
to help you in your difficult situation.  Your determination to provide 
the best care possible for your mother is truly admirable.  It just so 
happens that I am aquatinted with some people who could help you earn 
some extra money.  That is, if you do not mind what they require of 
you.  This is their contact details and I can assure you that they are 
responsible employers who conduct their affairs in a business-like 
manner." 

His words and behaviour bewildered me until I glanced at the card he
handed me.  'Xotica, the leading Internet sex site' it read in large 
letters.  It took me a moment to grasp the significance of the card, by 
which time the stranger had scuttled off.  I didn't know whether to be 
embarrassed or amused by my strange encounter but at least it had 
diverted my mind from my financial worries. 

It wasn't until the next day, after a frenzied hour with a calculator
and my bank statements had led to the conclusion that the only way I 
could get the money was take out a loan and then not eat for the next 
three years to make the repayments, that I remembered the card.  I 
fished it out of my coat pockets and looked at it for a long time.  How 
bad could it be?  Taking my clothes off and letting some sleazy 
photographer take shots of my naked body wasn't the worst thing in the 
world.  Since my only other option was to sell a kidney on the black 
market it seemed foolish not to at least look into Xotica. 

The address on the card was an industrial estate on the outskirts of the
city and turned out to be a small unit attached to a large warehouse.  
I had absolutely no idea what to expect so I wasn't particularly 
disappointed or elated, just nervous.  I was invited into a cramped 
office where I was interviewed by a harassed looking little woman 
called Lisa Williams and a permanently smiling man, who introduced 
himself as Rob Peters.  They didn't want to know much about me, just my 
age and what hours I could work.  When I explained that I was a 
schoolteacher and so had my evenings and weekends free they seemed very 
happy enough.  They offered to show me around the place so I could get 
an idea of what they did before going any further. 

They led me down a corridor, stopping to peer through small glass panes
set in various doors until opening one and beckoning me in.  They 
hurried me through to a corner of the room.  We were stationed behind a 
camera set up on a tripod at the end of the biggest bed I had ever 
seen.  There were two more cameras set up at either side of the bed, on 
top of which sprawled a woman.  She was dressed in white lacy underwear 
with a silky negligee over the top and her auburn hair pinned firmly on 
top of her hair.  She gave us a wave before going back to flicking 
through a magazine until a buzzer sounded above us.  Twisting around I 
saw two screens, one showing a split view from the various cameras in 
the room and the other with typed words appearing on it. 

"Hi Ruby, how are u tonight," the words spelt out unoriginally. 

"I'm fine, just relaxing here," the girl said, speaking loudly.  Looking
up I saw a number of microphones hanging from the ceiling, obviously 
placed to pick up her voice.  She chatted for a bit before a request 
for her to remove her robe.  She knelt up on the bed and slowly removed 
the garment.  She struck a couple of different poses for the camera 
before the typing asked her to take her bra off too.  She obliged and 
again posed for the various cameras, pushing her breasts up and 
together.  She asked the screen if they would like her to pinch and 
lick her nipples to make them hard.  The screen seemed to like that 
idea so she performed for the cameras, moaning theatrically. 

It was so strange watching her.  My companions were behaving as if they
were uninterested, bored even.  I found it hard to be similarly blasé 
though.  I knew without a doubt that I was straight, definitely 
heterosexual.  Yet the sight of this woman playing with her breasts 
only a short distance away from me was turning me on.  When, in 
obedience to the typed words, she slid her knickers off I found it hard 
to breathe normally.  I'd never seen a naked woman before, unless you 
count brief glimpses in the changing room of the sports centre.  Much 
less had I seen a woman spread her legs and brazenly display the most 
intimate part of her body.  Instinctively I looked away but fascination 
made me look back. 

There between her legs was her pussy, her cunt, her twat, her snatch.  I
didn't have a civilised vocabulary to describe what I was looking at, 
just vulgar words more commonly bandied around a playground as insults. 
 I knew I had a similar collection of body parts between my legs and as 
I covertly stared I couldn't help but be extremely conscious of them.  
I had expected her pussy to be so red, almost crimson.  All her pubic 
hairs had been removed and her flesh gleamed with moisture.  Her lips 
seemed to be swelling in front of my eyes, or maybe it was the fact 
that I could feel my own nether lips swelling that led me to imagine 
things.  I could see her cunt pouting at the nearest camera, fleshy and 
swollen and incredibly close.  She produced a dildo and, after a couple 
of preliminarily licks, she slid it inside herself.  I couldn't 
restrain a gasp as I watched and my inner muscles flexed instinctively. 
 When the screen with the typed words suddenly flickered and went black 
I felt strangely disappointed, almost letdown.  As if an invisible 
string had snapped, Ruby flopped back down on the bed, flipped a stick 
of chewing gum into her mouth and shrugged back into her clothes.  In 
one moment, she went from the epitome of arousal, to just a woman 
sprawled on a bed. 

"Well, that's a fairly typical example of what we do here," Lisa
Williams said, beckoning me to follow her as she scurried from the 
room. 

"So what do you think, Rob Peters asked when we were once more back in
the dingy corridor.  "Are you still interested now you have seen what 
is involved?  Whatever our clients ask you to do, you have to do.  
That's our only rule." 

"We also like you to spin things out as long as possible before getting
to the good stuff," Lisa added.  "They pay by the minute so the longer 
you keep them online the more money we make." 

"So what do you think?" 

"Er, how much do you pay?" I asked, hating to sound mercenary but
needing an answer to the only question that actually mattered to me.  
They named a figure. 

"Is that for a whole day, like nine-to-five?" I queried, slightly
disappointed. 

"No, that's per hour," Rob told me, smirking slightly.  I gulped
audibly.  I would be solvent after just a weekend. 

"Where do I sign up?" I asked, trying to hide my glee. 

They led me back to the office and gave me a whole sheaf of papers to
sign.  I skimmed through them but they seemed to be mainly legalese, 
which was just gobbledegook to me.  I forced myself to take a moment to 
think about what I was agreeing to do.  I would be exposing myself to 
anyone who logged onto the site, performing to their instructions like 
a puppet.  On the other hand, I didn't know any other way to get the 
kind of money I needed so desperately.  I signed on the dotted line, 
feeling a huge weight lifting off my shoulders. 

"So can you be here tomorrow at five?" Rob asked. 

"No problem," I replied, trying to keep my grin under control.  "Any
chance of an advance?" 

"Of course," Lisa said, to my surprise.  "We can let you have a cheque."


"Mind you, if you don't show up and do your job, we'll cancel that
cheque before you can say 'Jack Robinson'," Rob remarked with a laugh. 

"Naturally," I agreed, grasping the cheque Lisa handed me as hard as I
could in case they changed their minds and demanded it back.  "So I'll 
see you tomorrow evening." 

Copyright 2000 

To Be Continued 

Have you enjoyed this story so far?  Would you like me to continue? 
Please let me know at
jusstme33@hotmail.com
