Made For Sex

by Joan Elizabeth Lloyd

  “That’s wonderful, dear,” her mother said. “You need some other interests in your life besides your sons.”

  “It would mean that you would have to stay with the boys more often. A few nights a week and occasional weekends.”

  “Weekends? How come? Not that I mind, you understand.”

  “God only knows,” she answered, “but Ronnie warned me about some out-of-town stuff. I don’t know how often, but from time to time.”

  “That’s great,” Mrs. MacKensie said, laughing. “Force me to spend time with the boys. Twist my arm.”

  Carla laughed as she always did with her mother. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “And maybe you’ll meet someone nice at one of those meetings. Maybe your friend Ronnie knows a nice man for you.”

  Carla laughed harder. “Mother, please.” When her mother raised an eyebrow, Carla said, “Okay. Maybe she does. I’ll keep my eyes open.”

  “And if a date keeps you in the city, like overnight….” She winked. “Just give me a call and I’ll see to the boys.”

  An early September heat wave baked New York City and the humidity that hung over the metropolis caused Carla’s short-sleeved rayon blouse to stick to her back. She walked up the brownstone’s front steps and rang Ronnie’s bell. “Come on in,” Ronnie called from inside. “It’s open.”

  Carla walked into the foyer and heard, “Lock it behind you, will you? Then come into the kitchen.”

  “Sure,” Carla called, throwing the dead bolt.

  Carla walked to the back of the building and into the large, airy kitchen. Ronnie already had lunch laid out on the table: a green salad, a bowl of crab salad, and a cold pasta with basil. Crisp rolls nestled in a napkin-covered basket and a bottle of white wine stood opened beside two crystal glasses.

  “Oh, Carla,” Ronnie said, hugging her friend, “I’ve missed you.”

  “Me too. How was Disney World?”

  “Sensational. The rides were a thrill, the lines were short, and the siestas were…athletic.” She picked up a small package wrapped in silver paper. “I hope you don’t mind, but I bought you a present.”

  “A present? I didn’t think to get you anything, I’m afraid.”

  “I didn’t expect that you had,” Ronnie said. “But I saw this and couldn’t resist.”

  Carla tore off the paper and opened the small box. Inside was a pewter figurine of a dragon with his wings spread, his head thrown back as if roaring. He perched on a faceted crystal globe, his talons buried in the transparent ball.

  Ronnie watched Carla lift the four-inch-high dragon so that the light turned into rainbows within the crystal. “The dragon is for fantasy,” Ronnie said. “And for dreams that can be made to come true.”

  “You know that I’ve decided to join you in your business, don’t you?”

  “I knew a month ago when I watched your eyes light up. Actually, I probably knew when we met again that first afternoon. After all, we were roommates for three years and I knew you very well then.” She poured wine into the two glasses and raised hers in toast. “To fantasy. And to making fantasies come true for everyone involved.”

  “To fantasy,” Carla said, sipping the crisp white wine.

  Over lunch Carla told Ronnie about her week with her boys and her parents. “How are your folks?” Ronnie asked. “I’ve always loved your mother. And your dad’s a stitch.”

  “They were always fond of you too. They asked to be remembered to you and want you to come up for dinner sometime.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “And how was the cruise?”

  “I’d rather tell you about the entire week some other time,” she said. “It’s a little early in your education for that story.”

  “Was it that shocking?”

  “Not for me. Trust me for a few weeks,” Ronnie asked and Carla demurred.

  After lunch, Ronnie said “I think it’s time for you to have a look around upstairs.”

  Ronnie and Carla put the dishes in the dishwasher, then climbed the lushly carpeted stairs to the master bedroom. It was softer and more romantic than the downstairs, done in pastel pinks and warm, spring greens. The lounge chair was upholstered in a pink-and-green floral with green piping to match the bedspread and drapes. The oriental carpet contained the same shades of green, and together with half a dozen plants, gave the entire room a warm and comfortable aura. “I entertain in here when romance is at the heart of the encounter,” Ronnie said. “I also sleep here sometimes when I’m stuck in the city.”

  “This is a wonderful room…soft and loving somehow.”

  “That’s exactly the way I designed it. We’ll need to coordinate, but you’re free to use it whenever you want, for whatever you want. I have a cleaning woman who comes regularly so you don’t even have to tidy up.”

  “Are you sure about my using your place…this room?”

  “Despite the homey feeling, this is my working space, not where I live. Let me show you what I mean.” Ronnie opened the door to a huge walk-in closet. “On this side,” she said, waving one hand, “are everyday clothes, the usual suits, dresses, blouses, things like that. Shoes are underneath.” She looked Carla over. “I would guess we still wear the same size, so take your pick whenever you need something you don’t have. I try to keep the two parts of me completely separate so I don’t wear my personal clothes during business. You might feel differently.”

  Carla admired the collection of expensive clothes. She didn’t need to examine the labels to know that Ronnie only chose the best. “Isn’t this overkill? So many outfits.”

  With a smile, Ronnie said, “I love clothes and now I can indulge myself. Anyway, I do a lot of entertaining and traveling. It’s surprising how many men want a well-dressed, well-educated companion to decorate their arm at a luncheon or business dinner.”

  “You mean like in Pretty Woman?”

  “Exactly. Sometimes without any sex at all.” She turned and indicated the other side of the closet. “This is the evening stuff.”

  Carla was stunned at the number of designer dresses: chiffon, lace, sequins, and satin in a variety of colors and textures. Her fingers strained to pull each garment from its hanger and try it on. At the end of the clothes rod hung a deep rose silk jacket, a full-length black satin coat, and two faux furs. “You’re ready for anything, aren’t you?”

  “You have no idea.” Ronnie crossed the room and opened the door to a second closet. “Play clothes,” she said. Inside hung an assortment of costumes. Carla recognized some of them from the photograph album Ronnie had shown her. The pink little-girl dress and the leather-and-chain outfit hung with a leopard-patterned leotard, three leather dresses with multiple zippers, and several see-through lace bodysuits.

  “On each hanger,” Ronnie explained, “are all the items necessary for that persona. Besides the clothes and underwear, I have coordinated jewelry, perfume, extra makeup, whatever’s needed, all in a plastic bag on the hanger. With one or two there’s even a wig, should you care to wear it. I love the wigs; they make me feel like a different person. Feel free to use anything, just put the stuff back in its place. Sometimes I need to dash into the bathroom and change quickly so I like to have everything ready.”

  Carla whistled, long and low.

  Ronnie opened the drawers of the wide dresser and showed Carla dozens of slips, bras both with and without cutouts so nipples could show through, satin and lace panties, silk teddies in a dozen colors, and garter belts with stockings. “Try anything on and wear whatever fits your mood. Or you might want to wear nothing at all under your evening clothes. There are few things more arousing than telling a man that you’re not wearing underwear, and then going out for an evening. But everything’s replaceable so if anything gets torn or whatever,” she winked, “we’ll get new.”

  When Carla looked as though she didn’t understand, Ronnie said, “Sometimes a man wants to tear clothes off or cut them off slowly and dramatically.”

  As Carla gazed into
the drawers, she couldn’t imagine a piece of lingerie that Ronnie didn’t own. She picked up a cellophane package. “Panty hose?”

  “Even panty hose,” Ronnie said. “I have one friend who loves to pull them off of me, very slowly and lick each part he uncovers. Another friend likes to cut a hole in the crotch and have my legs—in the panty hose—wrapped around him. And, now that I think of it, I had a friend about two years ago who liked to wear them himself. He’d put a pair on before we went to dinner. He claimed they sweetened the anticipation and from the way he attacked me when we got back here, I don’t doubt it at all.”

  Carla tried not to be shocked. She had read about transvestites but she’d never thought to meet one. “Woman’s clothes?”

  “First of all, he wasn’t a transvestite,” Ronnie said, as if reading her friend’s mind. “Several men I know like to wear satin undies under their business suits. The slippery fabric feels good against the skin and it’s a sexy little secret.

  “Secondly, don’t judge. There’s nothing wrong with an activity that consenting adults enjoy in private, or, for that matter, in selected public locations. I learned that first time with Tim that labels are for people with small minds.”

  “You’re right, of course. And I’m not being judgmental, just naive.”

  “Fair enough.”

  On the side of the closet opposite Ronnie’s costumes were outfits for men: a Robin Hood-style green vest and tights, a black outfit that looked like it was designed for a second-story man, a silver lamé top and pants that had been cut to resemble a knight’s armor, and a white shirt and short pants combination. “For a naughty little boy,” Ronnie explained. Carla struggled to not let her amazement show.

  Eventually they returned to the living room. “I want you to go slowly,” Ronnie said when the topic turned to Carla’s new career. “I’d like to see you build your sexual and sensual awareness little by little. And I’ve got just the place to start.”

  “You have?”

  “Um-hmm. Rick. I’m due to call him in,” she glanced at her watch, “five minutes.”

  Carla looked a little flustered. “Now? Oh God. I thought I was ready for this,” she said. “Suddenly I’m not so sure.”

  “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t do anything for your trial run that you couldn’t back out of at any time. Nothing is mandatory. But Rick is the perfect place to start. I call him and we make love over the phone.”

  “Phone sex? Like 1-900-suck-me-off?”

  “Something like that. And don’t make fun of it. Talking about sex and describing lovemaking is very erotic, very exciting, and leads to some delicious orgasms.” When Carla hesitated, Ronnie said again, “Trust me?”

  Carla relaxed. “I do trust you. It’s just that phone sex conjures up such awful visions. A sweaty body jerking off while some impersonal bimbo talks and files her nails at the same time.”

  “It’s not like that with me. Not at all.”

  “Of course not,” Carla said.

  “Before I call Rick—or Mr. Holloway as I call him on the phone—let me tell you about him. Rick’s a happily married man who’s involved in some kind of financing business on Wall Street. Like so many of my friends, Rick believes that his wife couldn’t be interested in the things we talk about. Every now and then I’m tempted to phone his wife and somehow get her to talk to him. I think he’d be surprised. But, of course, I wouldn’t do anything like that. My friend’s lives, outside of our relationship, are strictly off-limits. I’ve never even seen Rick.”

  “Never?”

  “Nope. One of my friends suggested that he call me. He did and we talked in private for an hour. I discovered that he likes to listen to sexy talk, sexy stories, things like that. He’d tried those 900 numbers but never found one he really liked. He has now.”

  “I assume you get paid.”

  “Sure. He leaves a message for me once or twice a month. The message tells me what time to call him back. He’ll be sure to be in the middle of the office where he’s surrounded by people. After we talk, he sends me a check for a hundred and fifty dollars. Now, I’ll call first, then I’ll tell you to pick up. Yes?”

  “I guess. But I don’t want to eavesdrop.”

  “You won’t be. Let me take care of everything. I know Rick very well and he’ll enjoy this conversation immensely.”

  While Ronnie dialed Carla settled deeper into an overstuffed chair and tried to prepare herself for what was to come. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t imagine what would happen.

  “Good afternoon,” an efficient-sounding female voice said, “Mr. Holloway’s office.”

  “Mr. Holloway, please,” Ronnie said. “Mr. Black’s office calling.”

  “Thank you. One moment please.”

  Although she was on hold, Ronnie held her hand over the mouthpiece. “Okay, Carla, you can pick up now.”

  “Are you sure this is okay, Ronnie? After all the man’s paying good money for this phone call. He’s not doing it to expand my education.”

  “Not only am I sure it’s okay,” Ronnie answered as Carla picked up the extension phone and draped her legs over the arm of the chair, “but I’m going to tell him that you’re listening.”

  “You aren’t,” Carla said.

  “I know just what he likes. This plays right into his fantasies. Knowing that you’re listening will heat things up for him. You can’t imagine how much I enjoy knowing I can make him hot just by talking. He gets hot and so do I. I think you’ll find it very erotic also.”

  “Mr. Holloway here,” said a deep, resonant voice. Carla watched Ronnie curl up and tuck her feet under her.

  “Mr. Holloway,” Ronnie purred into the phone, “this is Mr. Black’s office. Can you talk?”

  “Of course not,” Mr. Holloway answered.

  “That’s good. How many people are within earshot?”

  “About six.”

  “Can they see you? I mean your entire body,” Ronnie said, “not just your head.”

  “Just the upper levels,” he answered.

  “Then I want you to move. I want you to be where, when you get all hard and swollen, everyone could see if they knew where to look.” When there was no sound at the other end of the phone, she asked, “Have you moved?”

  There were shuffling sounds, then he answered, “I have.” Carla could hear office noise in the background.

  “Good. I have a little surprise for you today.”

  “You have?”

  “Say hello, dear,” Ronnie said, waving at Carla.

  “Hello, darling,” Carla said, dropping her voice a full octave and letting lots of breath escape as she spoke.

  “Who’s that?” the surprised voice said.

  “That’s Snow White,” Ronnie said. “She’s listening to everything we say. And she’s never heard anything like this before. She’s going to listen as you get excited. You won’t be able to hide from her.”

  “Snow White?” he whispered. “Oh shit.” His voice trembled as it resumed its normal timbre. “What’s your associate like?”

  “Oh, she’s beautiful. Would you like to hear about her?”

  “That’s a fine idea. Let’s discuss that.”

  “Well,” Ronnie said, closing her eyes. “She’s tiny, only about five feet tall, and she’s got wide, sky-blue eyes and lots of long red hair. Her skin is like a soft ripe peach and her mouth is painted with bright red lipstick.”

  “That’s fine,” the business-like voice said.

  “Her hands are tiny but she has long fingernails. You know how they’re painted?”

  “Of course.”

  “Certainly you do. They’ve been polished so they’re shiny and bright red, like her lips. And she’s wearing a white dress, cut low across her bosom so the tops of her nipples are just hidden beneath the lacy edging. Her cleavage is so deep and inviting that your hands itch to bury themselves between her large breasts. The dress is tight over her ribs and there’s a full skirt with a dozen stiff petticoats. She�
��s wearing very high-heeled sandals that are held to her feet with lots of tiny straps.”

  “That sounds like a fine arrangement,” Mr. Holloway said.

  Carla was blushing listening to Ronnie’s description. She was also getting very aroused.

  “And she’s wearing long white gloves,” Ronnie continued. “Her fingers aren’t covered so you can still see her red fingernails, but white satin starts at her palms and extends up way past her elbows.” She paused. “Can you see her?”

  “Certainly. I need to know more about how the deal will proceed.”

  “Well, she’s listening to me and getting very excited.”

  Carla was surprised at how excited she really was becoming as Ronnie described this imaginary Snow White. Her body was responding. She wanted to loosen the jeans that constricted her.

  Carla could hear movement at the other end of the phone, together with the clack of keyboards and the occasional jangle of a telephone. “Is that true?” the man’s voice said.

  “Yes,” Carla said, strangely no longer embarrassed. “I’m very excited. My thighs are open and I’m getting wet.” Ronnie opened her eyes and nodded her approval.

  “Wonderful,” Rick said. “It sounds like the arrangement is working well.”

  In the distance, a woman’s voice interrupted. “Mr. Holloway. Can you take Mr. Malone on line two?”

  “Not right now,” Rick said. “Tell him I’ll call back.”

  “You mean you can’t take another call right now?” Ronnie chuckled.

  “Not a chance,” Mr. Holloway said. “Our business is more important. Where were we?”

  “You’ll have to refresh my memory,” Ronnie teased.

  “Shit,” the voice whispered. “Okay, we were talking about the irrigation project.”

  Carla laughed. “Yes we were. I was telling you how wet I am.”

  “Snow White is just waiting for you, Mr. Holloway. Are you hard enough for her?”

  “Certainly. What about the rest?”

  “Well, Snow White is wearing pantalets trimmed with white lace. They’re getting wet in the crotch as her pussy gets hotter. Should we have her take them off?”