As if reading my mind, she tucked herself back in, hiding her boobies once again. With a flip of her hair, she sashayed away, no doubt to look for Carlos. But whatever, I wasn’t interested in my own wife anymore, I just wanted her daughter to come back.
“I’m not done yet,” Lorena called over her shoulder. “You can’t be celibate forever.”
But with the way I was missing Cleo at the moment, it sure seemed like I was destined for the life of a monk.
That night, I ate dinner alone before retreating to my study. I was looking forward to a glass or two of port, contemplating the flames of the fire, maybe beating myself off while thinking of Cleo’s fine, sassy form. Heck, I could see her in my mind’s eye, that creamy white pussy, the lips wrapped around my dick, throwing her head back while panting my name. Fuck yeah, I’d start a search for her tomorrow. It wouldn’t be hard, there’s only so far an eighteen year-old can go.
But when I opened the door to my study, there was a woman waiting on my leather lounger … completely nude, wearing high heels only.
“Mr. Markham,” she giggled. “It’s so nice to see you again. Lorena asked me to wait for you here.”
What the fuck? Who was this blonde? Did I know her from somewhere? What was my wife up to?
The woman giggled, cupping a breast and jiggling it at me, seeing my confused expression.
“Don’t you recognize me?” she asked. “I’m Marie.”
Holy shit! Lorena must have done some kind of black magic on the girl because Marie had been transformed from All-American blonde to vamped-up vixen. She was wearing a crapload of make-up so as to be almost unrecognizable, her hair teased like a Pamela Anderson clone.
Her body though, was tempting. Big round jugs with ruby red nipples narrowed to a tiny waist before flaring out into wide hips and chunky thighs. I have a thing for big girls, and Marie was larger than I’d previously thought. There was plenty of flesh for the loving.
“Mr. Markham,” she giggled again. “Come closer.”
I approached stealthily like a cat, but wasn’t about to make a move. My dear Cleo was still on my mind, her chestnut tresses and sweet smile a remembrance of days past.
“Mr. Markham,” she repeated sweetly. “I have a gift for you.”
I was expecting her to do something vulgar like spread her legs and show me her pussy, or maybe get on her hands and knees and wiggle her bare ass. But instead, she reached below the chaise lounge and pulled out a manila folder. Oh fuck. I’ve been in business a long time and know what unmarked folders usually mean. Bad news.
Suddenly angry, I strode over to the blonde and ripped the folder out of her hands, not bothering to say anything as I tore it open.
Oh fuck, it was worse than I expected. I’d been expecting Lorena to do something outrageous, maybe slip some condoms into the envelope, or some nasty sex pics. But instead, she’d doubled down.
Somehow, she’d known that I hadn’t given up on Cleo, far from it, and was determined to find the redhead. So Lorena had done the worst possible thing. The photos inside … they were of Cleo, totally nude, her assets flying, on display for men to see.
There was one where she was dancing, wearing nothing but stripper heels, her hair whirling as she gyrated on a pole. She looked gorgeous as attested by the male faces in the background, practically drooling at her luscious body.
The other photos were even more explicit. Cleo squatting, nude, baring her cunt to some guy, and then backing up to shake her rump in his face. Then bending over and showing off her breasts, her nips perky and tight, that creamy flesh ready to be devoured. There were dollar bills everywhere on the stage, littering the floor, making my little girl rich.
What the fuck? How could Cleo have turned so dirty, so fast? She’d been a virgin when I took her, and it was unbelievable that a mere two weeks later, she was taking her clothes off for money, getting dollars for shaking her tits, wiggling that ass.
But it only got worse. As I flipped through the files, there were more and more photos, and they just got more explicit. The shots were blurry in some cases, but otherwise unmistakable. Cleo’s legs spread, her cunny stuffed full with a massive dildo on stage. Cleo bent over, her ass being violated by a toy mounted on a wall. Over and over again, cream trailing from her thighs, juices running from the holes of her body.
I closed the file slowly, unable to look anymore. My little girl was working it, probably making thousands by baring body. Why? What the fuck? There was no reason, I would have provided for her. Sure, we hadn’t talked about our living situation, college, anything, but I figured that it was just a matter of time. There was absolutely no reason for Cleo to be dancing, to put that beautiful body on display for cash.