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Two Different Worlds (Shooter3704)


Two Different Worlds by Shooter3704

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Beth Adams had been cajoled by husband Norm to go find her first job for about 20 years. She found one with Trip, a black lawyer with a downbeat office. Beth soon found typing and taking messages would be the lowest priority tasks required of her.

Her sex life at home was good but it got better as she began to get an idea what Trip wanted of her - and hubby Norm encouraged her to go for it.

She'd already met a couple of Trip's black downbeat clients and soon realised they would be part of the equation. Then, as her dresses got thinner and more revealing, all courtesy of Trip, he accidentally let her see a photo album of what her predecessors got up to. That was the start of Beth`s discovery of just what good ol` Trip would get up to and sure enough in days she had become a black man`s whore, grabbed the chance to have her first black gangbang and become part of `the scene` both with the powerful Black Knights and the more down to earth folk at the Phoenix.

Product type: EBook    Published by: Fiction4All    Published: 8 / 2018

No. words: 35480

Style: Interracial Erotica, Menage/Group Erotica

Available Formats: MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  PDF  MS Reader  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle


Excerpt

Chapter 1

Beth Adams pressed the up-button with her manicured index finger and waited nervously for the elevator. She was jittery because this was the first time since getting pregnant, many years before, that she would be interviewed for a job. Norm, her husband of more than twenty years, had been urging her to find work outside the home. She knew that he thought it would be a good idea, not only because they could use the money to supplement his income as a vice-principal at a suburban middle school. But also because he believed that it would be good for her and their marriage.
Now that their son had joined the Marine Corps, and was at boot camp in San Diego, there wasn't any reason for her not to check out what might be available, her husband had reasoned.
That morning, after Norm had left for work, she opened the classified pages of the Denver Post and turned to the "help wanted" section. As she sipped from her steaming cup of coffee, she quickly scanned the ads searching for those for which she might be qualified. After reading for a few minutes, she was getting very discouraged because most employers required a college degree and years of experience. She possessed neither of those requirements. Then, just when she was about to give up, she saw an ad that read:

Wanted: Receptionist/Assistant to an attorney. No experience
required, will train. Call 303-555-3456 for an interview.

Her call was answered on the second ring. Within two minutes she was told to come in as soon as possible because he, the lawyer who answered the phone himself, desperately needed help and intended to hire someone before the day ended.
As the elevator doors opened, Beth couldn't help feeling a little disappointed. The law office was not located in one of the gleaming skyscrapers near the courts, as she thought it would be, but a few blocks behind them in a building that they must have constructed in the 1930's.
On the third floor, she walked down the long, dimly-illuminated, dank hall. As she passed several frosted glass doors with black lettering, she noticed that they were a collection agency, a bail bond company, an "ABC this" and an "Acme that." Finally, she stood in front of suite 325. The same old-fashioned script lettering she saw on the other office doors spelled "Law Office."
Beth took a deep breath, hoping that she looked presentable as she remembered how hard it had been to decide, in haste, what to wear for her interview. Finally, she had chosen her best pair of black slacks, a grey, long-sleeve, loose-fitting blouse, dark pantyhose and flat black shoes.
Before she left the house she stood in front of the full-length mirror in her closet and took inventory of the reflected image. Five feet, seven inches, one hundred thirty-one pounds. It wouldn't hurt to lose five or ten pounds she had to admit. Shoulder-length, lustrous brown hair, sparkling blue eyes in a pretty face that looked younger than her forty years. What she had chosen to wear was both tasteful and conservative, she told herself as she knocked on the door.
"It's open, come on in," shouted a deep male voice from behind the door.
In the small reception room a man, who must have been approaching seventy, was talking with a very pretty woman that Beth thought must be in her late twenties or early thirties.
"Thanks for coming in," the man said politely to the woman who was leaving. "If you change your mind and would like to be considered for the job, call me and let me know," he said as he escorted her to the door.
"I won't change my mind. I'm not interested," said the woman over her shoulder as she left the office.
He closed the door behind her, shrugged his shoulders, turned to Beth, smiled reached out his hand and said, "I'm Jasper Washington, Jasper Washington the third. Friends call me Trip because of the Roman numeral III after my last name."
She took his large, gnarled hand in hers, smiled back at him and said, "Beth Adams."
"Come on back to my office, Mrs. Adams," he said confidently after noticing the gold wedding band on the third finger of her left hand.
As she followed him, she observed that his shoulders were stooped and he walked with a slight limp. Two walls of the small, cluttered office they entered were covered, floor to ceiling, with book shelves crammed with law books. Bankers' boxes were stacked in every corner and even on a cushion on a black leather sofa. His big, outdated desk was nearly buried with file folders.
"Sit down, sit down. Make yourself comfortable," Trip said, indicating a chair in front of his desk as he settled into the large, black leather chair behind it. "Can I get you something to drink? A soda pop, coffee, water?"
"No thanks, I'm fine," Beth said trying to remember the last time she had heard soft drinks referred to as 'soda pop.'
"Do you have a resume?" he asked.
She reached in her purse and extracted the folded two-page document that Norm had helped her prepare and handed it to him.
"Give me a sec." He had a pair of reading glasses, propped low on his broad nose, that he pushed back into place and began reading.
While he read, Beth folded her hands in her lap and sat forward in the chair. She thought that he was, well he was rumpled, almost slovenly. His stripped shirt was open at the neck, his out- of-style, wide tie loosened. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up and its pocket was crammed with pens and pencils. Wide suspenders held up his trousers. His nappy grey hair was badly in need of a trim, she thought. What was most striking and surprising about him, however, was that his skin was the shade of dark mahogany.
Looking at her over his glasses he said, "I see it's been a long time since you've worked. What brings you back to the job market, Mrs. Adams?"
"My son just joined the Marines. Both my husband and I thought it would be a good idea for me to find a job."
He leaned back in his chair and asked, "why?"
"Well, we can use the money. He, my husband that is, is a vice-principal at a middle school in Aurora. That's where we live."
"Is that the only reason?" The older man wanted to know.
"Norm has wanted me to work for several years. I thought that being home with our son was important. Now that he's gone, I know that my husband thinks I need to get out into the real world as he calls it."
Before she could continue, Trip chuckled and said, "well this is the real world, that I can guarantee. Let me tell you a little about the office." He crossed his legs before continuing. "I've been practicing law for forty years, more than thirty from this office. The first ten years of my career I was on the other side. I was a prosecutor, the first black in this jurisdiction, I might add," he said proudly. "When I first moved in here, this was one of the best buildings in town. Anyway, I'm a one-man show. I've always had someone handle the phones, the filing and helping with documents and such. The last woman who worked for me, Jan, was here for four years. She had to leave abruptly to be with her mother in California who has some dreadful illness. She won't be coming back," he said almost wistfully. "Anyway, I need someone immediately."
"I can answer phones and do the filing, but I haven't typed in years."
"That's not a problem. How are you with the computer?"
"Fair. We have a computer at home, I guess everyone does these days. I'm okay with e-mail, but legal documents, that's another matter. I'm not sure."
"Is it okay if I call you by your first name, Beth?"
"Of course, Mr. Washington."
"Good, that's good. Call me Trip. Well, let me tell you what I do. I'm a criminal defense attorney. That is all I do. Most of our cases are plea-bargained or settled. Very few go to trial." He sipped from a glass of water on his desk and continued. "As you can imagine, our clients can be very rough. Hell, no sense beating around the bush, most are the dregs of society: thieves, pimps, prostitutes, drug users and small-time dealers, con artists, smut distributors, parole violators and an owner of an adult theater/book store. You name it, we defend it, except murder in the first, and most crimes of violence." He paused, touched his chin and said, "Beth, you look so innocent, I don't know if you could deal with my clientele." He was silent for a moment then continued, "we obviously live in two very different worlds."
Beth knew that he was issuing her a challenge, one she quickly accepted. "I would be lying to you if I told you that I had been around people like your clients because I haven't. However, I'm adaptable and not judgmental. Just because we live in the suburbs doesn't mean that I've lived a sheltered life," she said boldly, though she knew that her life had, indeed, been very sheltered.
"By the way you're dressed, I . . . ummm, I thought, that you might be uncomfortable around some of my clients. Also, you would have to wear skirts, dresses and high heels. Would that be a problem?"
"No. I have skirts and dresses. What I'm wearing, I assumed, would be appropriate for the interview. If I'm hired, I'll wear whatever you require."
She's some looker, Trip thought to himself. He had a special feeling about this woman from the suburbs, this Beth Adams. She was someone that he wanted to get to know better, so he said, "I'll tell you what I'll do. Let's give it a try for, oh . . . say one month. Because you don't have experience, I'll start you at $300 a week and give you raises as you're able to contribute more. How does that sound?"
"That sounds close to minimum wage to me," Beth said.
"That would only be $7.50 an hour for a forty-hour week," Trip said. "However, if you're here by 9:00 you can leave by 4:00 p.m. that's only six hours a day, allowing an hour for lunch." He made a calculation on a legal pad then smiled and said, "that's $10.00 an hour, and remember, that's just to start."
"I'll have to talk it over with my husband tonight."
"Oh, I misunderstood. I thought it was his idea for you to go to work."
"It was . . . , " she didn't want him to think that she was here only to do her husband's bidding, " it was our idea."
"Look Beth, let's be straight with each other. I know this isn't the greatest office in the world. I know I'm a black old geezer, not some handsome, young, rich, white lawyer who is a partner in a big firm. I know that many people who come through that door you'll find to be repulsive." He paused, uncrossed his legs, leaned forward and put his arms on his desk and said, "but, on the other hand, I also know that you don't have a degree, any marketable skills or experience. I promise you that working here is a lot better than flipping hamburgers at McDonald's. I can teach you a lot about the law and life . . . the real world, as your husband said. Both this old office and I are getting long-in-the-tooth."
He flashed her a smile and said, "you would help dress up the place, bring us some class. I need you, and I think you need this job. What do you say?"
"I'll have to think it over. Can I call you tomorrow and let you know?"
"Let's not beat around the bush, Beth. Are you reluctant to accept my offer of employment because I'm black?"
He had hit the nail squarely on the head. Beth wasn't a racist, but she was very surprised that the lawyer was black. "It's not that at all. It makes absolutely no difference to me what race you are . . . I mean black, white, brown, yellow, red . . . I think we're all the same, we're people."
The old lawyer smiled and said, "Beth, I'm so happy to hear you say that. If race isn't the issue, and the hours and pay are acceptable, and I need you, and you, for several reasons, need this job, then why miss this opportunity? Like I told you before, I'm going to fill this job today. What do you say?"
Beth didn't have to think for long. She was flattered that the very first interview had resulted in a job offer. She knew that Trip was right, she doubted that she could do any better than the offer. "Okay, subject to Norm agreeing."
"That's fine . . . hell that's great! Welcome aboard, Beth. Let me show you around."
There really wasn't much to show her. Off the reception room, which would double as her office, were three doors. One led to Trip's office, one to a small conference room whose walls were also lined with law books and the third door led to a combination work/file room. Restrooms were found outside the office and down the hall. Just as Trip had finished showing her around, the phone rang.
"Aren't you going to answer it?" he asked. "Just answer, Law Office."
Beth pushed the button next to the flashing red light, lifted the handset and said, "law office."
The female voice on the other end said, "I'm calling about the job that you advertised in the Post."
Beth covered the mouthpiece with her hand and said to Trip, "it's someone calling about the job."
"Well hell, Beth, you got the job." He smiled broadly and said, "just tell her it's been filled."


Chapter 2

As Beth drove toward home, she was ecstatic at being hired . . . at being accepted. Not to have been hired would have been a rejection. She wasn't any different from anyone else. Acceptance felt great, rejection sucked, as today's generation of teens would say. She also knew that Norm would be enthusiastic about the job. He had told her often that having to get up and ready for work would make her much more conscious of her appearance. She would watch her weight more carefully, not that weight had become a problem yet, but she knew that it could become one. Moreover, she would be more discerning about what she wore. No more sweat suits. Grooming, make-up, her hair, all would be more important to her as a working woman than as someone who didn't have obligations outside the home. She had to admit that she could clean the house in an hour and that she spent far too much time watching soap operas, Oprah, and other daytime drivel.
For Norm though, he thought that a job outside the home would make her sexier, more sexual, much more interesting. Interesting to him and to maybe others. There was no getting around it. Like most couples married for two decades, the temperature between the sheets of their king-size bed had been lowered a degree or more with each of the last several passing years. They were in a sexual rut. Nothing seemed exciting anymore for either of them. Life had become predictable. There were seldom surprises. Maybe Norm was right, she thought. Maybe working will add a spark to our lives.
When he opened the door that afternoon, she rushed into his arms, planted a big kiss on his lips and said, "I got a job today, honey. I start tomorrow," she said proudly.
"Really? Tell me all about it," he said as he took off his sport coat and tossed it on an upholstered chair in the living room.
"It's in a law office in downtown Denver. Just a small, one-man office. The lawyer is an older man named Trip Washington."
Norm took her in his arms held her up, and spun her around as she held on tight and laughed. "We'll go out and celebrate," he said excitedly.
Norm wore his Sunday blue suit. Beth wore a black, above-the-knee, strapless evening dress that had been hanging in the back of her closet for three years. She had worn it only once, to the school district dance that was a command performance. He thought she looked beautiful and sexy then, and just as attractive and desirable now. Her long, left leg was exposed halfway up her thigh by the slit in the side of the frock. No question she was overdressed for dinner, but neither of them cared what anyone else thought.
They splurged. It wasn't often, only for very special occasions, when they went out to a nice restaurant that charged as much for one meal as their grocery budget was for more than a week. Beth could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times that they had purchased a bottle of champagne to celebrate something. They had consumed half the contents of the green bottle when Norm said, "so honey, tell me everything about the job."
"I don't know very much about it yet. Let's see. Oh yes, he only does criminal work. I got the idea that his cases aren't the high profile cases that we read about in the newspapers, and see on the ten o'clock news. He described his clients to me as 'the dregs of society.' They're thieves, pimps, prostitutes, drug users and small-time dealers, con artists, smut dealers, parole violators and DUI's, cases like that," she explained.
Wow! Thought Norm. He wanted her to get out in the world and this seemed to be more than he could have hoped for. "And you're okay with that? I mean, are you okay with the type of cases he handles?" he asked as he took her hand and leaned closer to her.
"Mr. Washington . . . he told me to call him Trip, asked me the same thing. I don't think it will be a problem. Do you?" she asked with concern.
"You said he's had other women working for him, and the last one worked there for four years. I guess it won't be a problem."
"By the way I was dressed for the interview he thought I might not be comfortable working there. He also told me that I couldn't wear slacks and would have to wear high heels. Sort of an office dress code I guess."
What she told him couldn't have pleased Norm more. He thought Beth needed to fly from the comfort and safety of her familiar nest and experience what the real world was like. He imagined Trip's clientele, and even Trip himself, being treated to glimpses of his gorgeous wife; especially, wearing dresses and skirts. She sure had the figure for that attire, though she hadn't been willing to let anyone but him know it, except on very rare occasions like tonight. Urging her to get a job might just have done the trick, he hoped. He wondered if working in the law office of Trip Washington would help her to lose some of her inhibitions and become the hot wife he believed she had the potential of becoming.
"Oh baby, Norm said, I think that's terrific. You'll look great. You know that I've always thought that it was a shame to cover up your fabulous legs."
Beth knew that was true. Norm had begged her to wear short skirts and to skip pantyhose for years. "Better be careful what you wish for fella," she warned. "Remember the kinds of people that will be looking at them." She sipped from her champagne glass, giggled then said, "though it's not likely that they will find an old married gal like me very interesting."
"That's where you're as wrong as wrong can be," said Norm seriously. "You really don't know how beautiful you are, do you?" Before she could answer he said, "I have to tell you honey, it really makes me hot to think of you being ogled and lusted after."
This was not the first time that he had said something like that. However, this was the first time that there was a potential for it to happen in a new environment.
Beth hesitated for a second, looked down at her plate then said quietly, "there's one other thing you should know . . ."
"What's that?"
"Trip, he . . . he's well he's black."
This revelation made her new job even better to Norm. Not only would the old lawyer's clients be ogling his beautiful wife but the old black man himself would be spending more time with her than any other man. "Is that a problem for you?" Norm asked.
"Well no, not really. I just thought that when you consider: the part of the city where the office is located, the type of clients that he serves and the fact that he's black, collectively, might cause you to think that this isn't the right job for me."
He held both of his wife's hands and said, "on the contrary love, it sounds like the perfect job for you."
When they returned home, the temperature between the sheets of their bed had already been turned up a notch. That night they slipped under the covers naked. Usually she wore panties and a T-shirt, and he wore his boxers to bed. Several years of predictable behavior seemed to have been erased. Excitement, that had been missing from their lovemaking for many years, was in bed with them. A sense of adventure that had been lacking was present as they kissed, touched and eventually became one. Maybe Norm had been right, Beth thought as his thick, hard cock entered her for what must have been the thousandth time. After-all, she had only gone out and applied for a job, and yet both seemed hotter than they had been in years.
After each of them climaxed and while sheens of sweat still covered their bodies, they lay on their sides pressed as tightly together as possible, as they always did. Norm spooned her from behind. His flaccid, still-wet penis wedged between the cheeks of her ass, his right arm embraced her breasts, his face nestled in her hair and his lips were only an inch from her small ear. Then, he began to talk softly as she knew he would.
"Baby, that was fucking fantastic. You're the absolute best fuck imaginable."
"How would you know, oh mighty cocksman?" Beth knew that he had only been with four other women before they married, and she really believed him when he said that he had been faithful during their marriage.
"I just know. You're so into it when we fuck, though I have to say I wish we did it more often. I just cannot imagine anyone being hotter than you. Remember those videos that we rented last summer?" He didn't wait for her to answer, they both knew that she remembered every detail. "Well, those women were professional porn actresses," he continued, "it was their job to convince viewers that they were being brought to heights of excitement that normal women couldn't obtain. They were nothing compared with you."
"Norm, we're all the same. Half the adults on the planet are women. We all have boobs and vaginas. Half are men. You all have cocks and balls. I really don't get the obsession with sex. Maybe it's just a male thing." She wondered if she hadn't said too much. After-all, he had been so sweet to take her out to celebrate the new job. She did enjoy it when they made love, however, there was so much more to life than screwing your spouse. "Anyway my stud," she said, "I'm glad you like they way I do it, I'm happy that you enjoy it. I do too. You make me feel so good."
"Do you think Trip would make you feel good too?" he blurted out unexpectedly.
"What do you mean?" Beth demanded as she pulled away from him, rolled over on her other side facing him and looked at him in the dim light.
"Don't make a federal case out of it, honey. I just asked if you thought that your new employer would like to do to you what I just did? That's all."
"Oh, not this again," said Beth rolling her eyes. "He's a harmless old man. Somebody's grandpa. He's not someone who would be interested in me or, for that matter, someone in whom I would be interested."
"Well, you two will be spending a lot of time together. I can't imagine him, or any man, not thinking of you first as a woman, second as a person, third as a co-worker, and probably never as another man's wife."
"That's just ridiculous Norm, and you know it. Not everybody is a sex maniac." With that, she gave him a peck on the forehead, rolled over again, scooted back against him and wiggled her bottom until his cock was, once more, slightly nestled between the cheeks of her perfect ass. As she began to drift off to sleep, she could swear that his penis began to swell.


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