Fickle Fantasies
By Marilyn Douglas
Date: February 2, 2021
Ch. 2Helping Housewives

Kevin approached Ashton as he walked sleepily from one class to another. While he found the complexities of the human mind intriguing, the routine of college life was relatively humdrum.

The guy was quiet-speaking only when necessary and getting directly to the point. Ashton liked him. “I have something to show you.” He said. Pausing to sit on one of the mossy benches scattered across the grounds of the campus, Kevin whipped out his laptop and entered several passwords before he found what he was looking for. The page before Ashton was black and the words in red. A picture of a nice couple sitting at the dinner table flashed, encouraging you to click it while the title, ‘Fantasy’ as it floated across the page. The tag line read, ‘You can have it if you want it bad enough.’

Looking around half nervous and half excited, Ashton looked at Kevin for permission, which came with the nod of Kevin’s head. A short click later, the meat of the matter was laid before him. Avatars with exaggerated features and equally exaggerated male organs represented each of the four friends. The tall and brawny caricature with the blonde hair was obviously a representation of Ashton. Kevin was there sporting a rippled brown chest and cornrows. His signature diamond in his left lobe looked larger than a boulder, and keeping true with stereotyping of the African American man, he was hung like a horse.

Jay’s avatar came over as mysterious as he was in real life, slanted eyes and midnight black hair swept over his right eye and he appeared to have been slicked with oil. In true hillbilly style, Jason represented by a stocky avatar in a straw hat and suspenders, appeared ready for a roll in the hay with his cut off jeans exposing all that he had to offer.

As the cursor passed over each picture, a short flirtatious bio on each of the men and their skills populated the screen. A suggestive write up on all the fantasies they would be happy to indulge in, and their specialty areas, were clearly explained. A generic contact email was provided, but no number.

Before Ashton could ask any questions, Kevin volunteered the missing puzzle pieces. “I haven’t published it yet because I wanna change it up a bit to make it more palatable, but by tomorrow we can go live and yes, its legal… well at least it can appear that way.”

Mischievous laughter erupted from the pair as they contemplated the prospects of being studs for hire. Who said males couldn’t use their skills to pay the bills? The discussion on fees and rules came into play and after they hashed it out, they came up with a short list of do’s and don’ts. They would run is past the rest of the group and decide if the stipulations were adequate. The plan was in motion.

Fast forward four weeks later and the balls were rolling. Surprisingly, Kevin decided to take the first date and after the money came in they all agreed sex for sale was going to be a nice meal ticket until college ended-maybe even after. Today it was Ashton’s turn to test the market, but his situation would be slightly different from the Kevin’s experience.

Sheila had chosen him from the menu of males in the group available and decided Ashton would be perfect to help her play out her fantasy. She volunteered information about herself- married, children at college and very lonely. Living with a husband whose interests were strictly monetary, she was left with time on her hands to remember what it was like to be lusted after and wanted.

She had heard from a friend that Fantasy could make her feel alive again-she desperately wanted to feel that- in every way. Sheila wanted to be perused by a young virile male and then be enticed to do things she hadn’t done in years. The stage had been set and the proverbial lights and camera stood at the ready. It was action time.

The bar was called Clover, a mesh of Irish and modern day American culture. Truthfully, it was hard to identify the Irish in the décor except for the numerous beer and stout bottles decorating the walls. The tables looked as they belonged to a diner, but the bar sparkled and shone like something from a TV ad while the pretty barmaids ran their cloths over the smooth marble top. Shabby as it appeared, it was quite popular with many of the richer college students and regular folk alike.

Ashton’s twenty first birthday introduced him to the demons of alcohol and drunkenness, but tonight he would tread with caution- he wanted to remember this.

Ashton sat at the table in the back sipping on ale, bubbling with white effervescent froth as he surveying the area. Barely legal girls talked among themselves, while the young men made plans for who they would be bedding that night. The more mature men in the crowd calculated the odds of scoring with someone young and beautiful while their wives slept alone at home.

He spotted her at the bar. Her picture didn’t do her justice. Sheila Alls sat in a lavender tube dress, sipping from a long stemmed flute. Her skin reminded Ashton of fresh cream and he wondered if it was just as silky and smooth under the revealing dress. The nude heels on her feet looked ultra feminine, but the gold chain decorating the heel and ankle of the pump let him know there was an underlying edginess about her. Slender ankles flowed into curvaceous calves, and his eyes followed all the way to the top of her perfect thighs where the dress prevented Ashton from seeing anymore. There was no way this woman was in her late thirties.

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