Free Mrs. Robinson (Mrs. Robinson #1) by Seth King

to her crotch and push my mouth into it, and she’d tell me exactly what to do to make her come. And then I’d take out my cock and she’d suck it until she swallowed that come.”
    Mrs. Robinson swallowed hard. “We can do all that, you know.”
    “But you look hesitant,” I said. “Are you sure?”
    “Yes, I am,” she said slowly. “No one has made me feel this beautiful – or said this many nice things to me – in a very long time.”
    “Well that’s just a shame, because you deserve it.”
    I picked up her foot and placed a kiss on her sole of her toe, a trick I’d learned from Miss Jill. Mrs. Robinson closed her eyes and arched her back.
    “Ahh,” she sighed, her face screwed up with pleasure. “Fuck me,” she said.
    “Excuse me?”
    “Fuck me.”
    “Right here?” I asked, slightly amused.
    “Right here.” She met my gaze, her eyes dark and hungry. “ Fuck me, Ben .”
    With an explosive burst of energy I pushed her up against the arm of the sofa, knelt before her, and pushed open her legs. With her lingerie pushed aside, I could see that she was shaved – all over.
    “ Fuuuck , you are sexy, Mrs. Robinson,” I said as I whipped my dick out of my pants, making her eyes go wide like a receiver. “You really want me to fuck you right now?”
    “Yes. Fuck me hard. Fuck me now.”
    Oh, God – this was it. I leaned forward, overcome with need for Grace. I was doing it, I was really doing it – I was going to fuck this woman. The head of my cock hit her, she let out a gasp – I bucked my hips and prepared to push all of me into Grace, on her husband’s couch, in her husband’s home – I took a breath and prepared to feel her around my cock, and then I’d fuck her ‘til kingdom come, ‘til I had forgotten that I had fallen down to the lowest rung of society, ‘til I forgot I was officially a prostitute –
    A heart-stopping sound made us both stop and look toward the foyer.
    Someone was knocking on the door.
     

8
    Grace Robinson
     
    “Oh, shit . Stay here.”
    Still panting from Ben’s unbelievable skills, I fell to the floor, rose to my feet, and started creeping down the hall toward the door. Usually Grace Robinson would never curse in front of company, but something told me the Grace I seemed to be quickly becoming was capable of doing all sorts of ungraceful things. As I got closer, my heart shuddered and then felt like it shrank away to nothing, leaving a black hole in its place.
    It’s not Richard, I told myself again and again as I approached the door. It’s not Richard…he’s not about to walk though the door and find a hooker in our house…my life as I know it is not about to end when I open this door…
    Finally I stopped at my door, terrified by the darkened figure on the stoop. I took one last breath, gathered every ounce of strength within me, and opened the door to find my neighbor, Cynthia, smiling up at me from the fourth step.
    “Hi, neighbor!” she beamed, her piercing smile like an X-ray with a cherry on top. I didn’t know whether to sigh or have another heart attack. Cynthia Villa was a volcano of barely-contained rage held together with a smile; all gleam and sharp edges and bony elbows held out at odd angles – a velociraptor in pearls. She fed on secrets like babies fed on formula, and she was dangerous . “What are you up to this evening?”
    “Oh, the usual,” I said, trying to make my voice sound normal. And by “the usual,” I mean I am potentially wrecking my life by paying a stranger for sex. “Wine and Netflix, you know.”
    “Wonderful,” she said. She crept up a step and peered behind me, towards the kitchen. “The thing is, I was making a lemon tart, and I was just wondering if you had any extra lemons lying around?”
    Shit , I thought as I tried not to let the chaos inside me show on my face. Had she seen Ben? Did she know what I was doing? She had to, right? It wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary for her to go poking around the