Three Sheets

(Author's note: All characters involved in sexual situations are 18+. The first two parts of this story can be found in "My Rookie Season" and "Repeat Offender," Chapters 1 & 2 of "The Third Wheel.")

I closed the door to my Uber, dropped my backpack on the seat next to me, and started unbuttoning my jeans as soon as the driver pulled away from the curb. For five hours I'd been getting hornier and hornier, unable to think of anything besides Vanessa and the eight thousand dollars in my pocket. I'd even stuck my hand down my jeans a few times while I was still behind the bar, unable to completely resist touching myself for so long. Now I not only didn't have to resist, I'd been instructed to play with myself. Sitting directly behind the driver, I hoped he wouldn't be able to see what I was doing, but I honestly didn't care too much as long as I was the only one taking a video of it.

I had my jeans and my very damp underwear down around my ankles and two fingers on my clit within seconds, and I let out a little involuntary moan now that I was finally touching myself for real. I fumbled with my phone to get it into video mode with the other hand and lifted the bottom of my long blouse above my waist, and then looking at the screen I realized my phone wasn't picking up enough light. I fumbled some more to turn on the flashlight function, and it wasn't professional video lighting, but it did the trick; I could see my hand on my pussy. I masturbated furiously, thinking about what I was going to do to Vanessa in the morning, and panning my phone up and over, then to the side, to get a variety of vantage points. Every now and again I looked up at the driver's rear-view mirror and saw him glance back at me for a few seconds, clearly aware that something was going on.

Although it's a quick trip from the Financial District over the Brooklyn Bridge, it's a decent haul southeast from there into my not-insanely-expensive neighborhood of Brooklyn. But there's not much traffic at that time of night, so I still hadn't reached an orgasm by the time we turned onto my street. I felt my phone vibrate as the Uber pulled up to the curb, signaling the end of the ride and asking me for a rating and a tip, but I didn't want to stop.

"Miss - Miss Christina?" the driver said hesitantly, reading my name off his driver-side Uber app. "You are arrived."

"Dammit," I whispered, then thought for a few seconds. Without pausing the video on my phone, I whipped off my shoes, stashed my jeans and panties in my backpack, jammed my shoes back on, and stepped out of the car. Even at 2:30 in the morning my neighborhood wasn't exactly deserted, so I pulled down on the hem of my blouse and figured it was close enough. I had a fleeting thought about finishing myself off right there on the sidewalk, and quickly dismissed it.

"Evening, Hector," I said to the night desk man as I breezed through the lobby, still holding my phone to one side and aimed at my waist, with nothing hiding my wet, swollen pussy except the bottom flaps of my blouse. Hector waved slightly, not even bothering to look up from the tablet on which he was watching a movie, and I made it to the elevator without arousing suspicion. As soon as the elevator doors finished closing, I had my fingers on my clit again and my phone recording it for posterity.

I had to pause again for the walk from the elevator to the apartment and through the living room to my bedroom, but with my door closed I yanked off the rest of my clothing and jumped on the bed to finish myself off. With my phone trained on my crotch, I rubbed as quickly as I could to get where I'd wanted to be for hours - coming hard with visions of Vanessa dancing through my head. When I finally came, I shook so much I dropped the phone. I took a minute to catch my breath, then I stopped recording and watched the video back to make sure nobody could tell it was me. Art it was not... but it was what Vanessa told me to do, so I put it in our text chat and hit send. I shivered, then instead of getting up right away to brush my teeth, I wrapped the covers around me for a little while.

*****

I woke up just before ten o'clock in the morning, and there was no text yet from Vanessa. The video had definitely gone through, but she hadn't replied. Even though there were still a couple of hours of "morning" left, I started to feel a little uneasy about the whole thing. I didn't know Vanessa all that well, but somehow she'd made me believe that it was a good idea to send her a video of me masturbating. At least my face wasn't in the video. So I wasn't too worried about her spreading the video around or using it to blackmail me, or anything like that, I just wanted to hear from her. I wanted to see her and touch her, probably more than I really should want to see and touch a married woman I was still deceiving about how we'd met. I badly wanted to send another text of my own, but I managed to scrape together just enough dignity to stop myself.

There wasn't much I could do about it lying in bed, so I got up and started my day. That included a walk to the local branch of my bank, where I used the ATM to deposit the $8,000 cash I'd gotten (on top of the initial $2,000 "down payment," already deposited several days earlier) for helping a really nice guy seduce his even nicer wife into a threesome. The money and the memory of sex with those two made me start to tingle again, and I wondered how much longer it would be before Steve finished arranging my next gig, or before Vanessa texted me. For an attractive single girl in a big city, I didn't feel like I had a lot of good "booty call" options, and I sure wasn't going to let any of my customers at the Scotsman's Sword pick me up that night.

In the meantime, I thought about Steve's early advice, and I stepped into the bank to ask if they could recommend a good tax attorney. After the teller asked me to confirm that I wasn't in any actual trouble right at that moment, she led me down the hall to meet with a banker she thought might be able to help. "This is Christina, she's a checking customer here," she said to the banker.

"I'm Amanda," the banker introduced herself, standing up from her desk and casually signaling the teller her thanks. Amanda was tall, with short brown hair framing an almost elfin face, and she wore a grey suit over a baby blue blouse. We shook hands, and I was already wondering whether I could convince her to come back to my place for a quick nooner. I tried to shake the thought. "How can I help you?" she asked.

We both sat down. "Well, it's a slightly weird question." One that requires me to slightly lie to you. "I tend bar in the financial district, and I guess because of cycles in the market, I tend to get a lot of large cash tips all at once, then just average tips for a while until the next spike. Someone told me I should probably talk to a tax attorney about it, I guess to make sure I don't get audited or something?"

"Okay - well, first of all I'm not any kind of attorney, but I may be able to help point you in the right direction. Do you mind if I ask what you mean by large?" She grabbed a pen and a notepad.

"Sure. Well, not long ago I had a week where I cleared two thousand dollars, then a couple of weeks later another eight thousand dollars. Then pretty much the same thing about a month later."

Amanda stopped writing and looked up. "These were cash tips?"

"Yeah, the bar pays out my credit card tips in my paycheck, this was separate."

"Did you deposit these tips in your account here?"

"Yes, absolutely. The last eight thousand just this morning, in fact. I'm working on paying down some credit card debt and student loans." I smiled, proud of myself.

She put the pen and pad down. "So you're saying that you deposited two thousand in cash then eight thousand in cash, and a month later you did the same thing?"

"Uh... yeah, why? Is that a problem?"

"Yes, it's called 'structuring,'" she said.

"What's that?"

"Listen, I have to stress again that I'm not a lawyer, but banks are required to flag cash transactions of ten thousand dollars or more because it could be money laundering, and that makes the government think 'drug cartels' or 'terrorists.'"

My mouth was suddenly very dry. "But it wasn't ten thousand, it was two and then eight, because that's how I actually received it."

"Right, but splitting up large cash transactions so that no individual deposit is quite at the ten thousand dollar level is so suspicious that it's illegal even if you're not doing it to hide criminal activity. That's what 'structuring' is."

Shit. My heart started racing. "Wait, are you telling me that I might've committed a crime just by depositing the cash?"

"Still not a lawyer," she said, holding up her hand. "But I think you might want to talk to one right away, and not a tax lawyer, probably white collar criminal defense. The bank has software that flags cash transactions like these automatically, so it's a pretty safe bet you've already been reported to someone, somewhere."

"What?!" Shit, shit, shit. "I can't believe this," I said, putting my face in my hands. I really didn't want to go to prison for making some fucking ATM deposits, especially not when my actual crime was prostitution. I stood and walked out without saying anything else and went straight home, where I finally looked at my phone again, and noticed I'd gotten a text from Vanessa while I was at the bank.

"̇Wasn't feeling well this morning" - and that was it, no apology, no clue about when she and I could get together instead of today.

I replied, "Hope you feel better soon." Then I started looking for lawyers.

*****

"Okay, so I've got good news and bad news," said Alonzo, the lawyer I'd begged to meet with me immediately; he was a stocky guy with a smooth baritone voice that I tried not to let distract me. I'm embarrassed to admit that I chose him from my Google results because his office was closest to the Scotsman's Sword, so I could meet with him that afternoon and hopefully still make it to work on time.

I sighed, trying not to inhale too much of his cologne. "Rip off the Band-Aid, man, please just tell me the bad news quickly."

"The bad news is that I bill at $725 an hour, and I need a ten thousand dollar retainer to start representing you. Though from what you're telling me, you might know where to put your hands on ten grand pretty quickly," he said, chuckling at his own joke.

Or maybe we could work it out in trade if you're looking to trick your wife into a threesome, I thought, squirming in misery. "So what's the good news?" I asked.

"Well, the truth is that I don't think you've committed a structuring crime here. The bank is definitely going to report your transactions, if they haven't already, because that's automatic. But to convict you of structuring, the feds would have to prove not only that you split up a cash transaction that would've been ten thousand dollars or more into smaller ones, but also that you knew the bank would be obligated to report a ten thousand dollar cash transaction, and that you did the splitting up in order to avoid that reporting."

I sat up straighter. "Well - that's great!" I said. "I had absolutely no idea, so everything is going to be fine, right?"

"Maybe," he hedged. "Since your deposits have likely already been reported, I think the best way to approach this would be for me to reach out to the U. S. Attorney's office right away before anyone investigates, let them know what you did, and offer to have you file a sworn affidavit explaining what happened. It'll still be up to them whether to charge you, but making the statement proactively should count for a lot. That said, they may still want you to plead guilty to a misdemeanor or something. And for sure they're going to want to seize the twenty thousand dollars you deposited."

My heart sank. "What?! That's insane! Shit, Alonzo, I've already paid some credit card bills with the first twelve thousand. I can't just ask for it back."

"Well, then you'd better hope you've got another round of really good tips coming at your bar. If that's actually where you got the money," he added.

"What do you mean?" I asked as innocently as I could.

Alonzo leaned forward at his desk. "Let me be as clear about this as I can. If you hire me, even though I'll be your attorney, especially because I'll be your attorney, I absolutely do not want to know where the money is coming from, if it's not actually tips from generous Wall Street booze hounds. You came to me about structuring, let's deal with that. If the U. S. Attorney investigates further and thinks you made the money illegally, then we'll deal with that, but until and unless that happens, this is about getting you out of trouble for structuring. And I have one more piece of free advice for you before you decide whether to hire me."

"Okay," I said quietly.

He took off his glasses. "For fuck's sake, Christina, wherever the cash is coming from, start holding onto it until you've got more than ten thousand saved up to deposit all at once. Then, at least we know the deposits themselves won't be a felony."

Without any warning, I started crying right there in his office. Alonzo was a little surprised, but he handed me a box of tissues from the credenza behind him.

*****

"Let's start lining up a queue of gigs, Steve, just like you suggested," I said as nonchalantly as possible, ignoring my frustration over the fact that I'd had to wait a few days for him to show up again - a few days during which I also still hadn't heard anything more from Vanessa. Steve and I were meeting in our traditional conspiracy plaza during my break. "Yeah, I'm bored, let's keep 'em coming," I added, clapping my hands together. I couldn't stand still, and it was hard for me not to let on how desperate I felt at that moment. I needed to give another five grand to my lawyer to match the five grand I'd paid him upon signing his retainer agreement; the federal government was probably going to want to take another twenty grand from me; Alonzo had also told me I would probably still have to pay federal, state, and city income taxes on that twenty grand even if it did get seized, which seemed doubly insane to me; I was still going to have to make rent, credit card, and student loan payments; my next paycheck from the bar wasn't for another week; and all I actually had in the bank at that moment was a little over four grand because I already paid half of Alonzo's retainer. I was going to have to fuck a lot more couples just to get back to a break-even point, and quickly. "And when are we doing the gig I chose last time, is it set up yet?"

"Wow, okay," said Steve. "Well, the next gig is this Saturday night, that's what I came by to tell you. Sugardaddy's in Long Island City, 11pm. I insisted he send me an extra four hundred in advance to cover your lapdances and tips, since it's not like you can submit receipts afterward. And I guess you may as well review the other prospects that have come in since you last looked, plus the older ones you bypassed, if you're in a hurry to set up some more."

He handed me the iPad, and while I scrolled I tried as hard as I could not to rush through them, and to dismiss any that gave me pause. But it was difficult to ignore just how many of these gigs I was going to have to accept to have any reasonable hope of getting back to merely okay, much less back on the road to financial independence. At a certain point I just forced myself to stop, and handed the iPad back.

"Five?" he asked, looking up.

I rolled my eyes. "Not all at once, Steve! I'm not asking you to set up an eleven-way for me." Steve laughed. "Like you said, let's get them moving so that I don't have to get all the way from the beginning to the end for one gig before I move on to the next."

"Makes sense," he said, and we started walking back. "I'll probably have to come to the bar more often for a while to make the drops, though."

"I'll make sure they order more of that Cabernet," I smiled, trying to put all of the legal and financial trouble out of my mind. A little while later when he left for the night, Steve passed me twenty-four hundred dollars in cash underneath the check for his wine, and I thought about how I was going to have to keep stashing cash under my mattress until I had more than ten thousand saved up. For the first time since all this started, having the cash in my pocket didn't turn me on at all.

*****

"UnicornFacilitator" - if that is in fact your real name -

My wife and I go to strip clubs all the time, like a couple times a month. We each get a few lapdances, we both get really turned on, and we go home and have great sex. I know she's getting turned on by these women, and I'll bet that if one of the strippers came on to us for a threesome, my wife would say yes. But I'm not stupid, so I also know that's never going to happen. When I saw your post about Unicorn, my first thought was: Maybe she can be at the strip club the same night as us and make a pass at us when my wife is hot to go? I'd love to find out.

Dude,

KingOfQueens

*****

SugarDaddy's is in an industrial area of Queens, too far from the nearest subway stop to walk safely late on a Saturday night, especially with a bunch of twenties and fives in my purse to spend on strippers. So I took an Uber "Share" to save a little on my trip from the depths of Brooklyn, but I figured it wasn't a huge deal for me to have to eat the cost of the car given the eventual payoff. Luckily this wasn't my first time at a strip club, so I knew a little about what to expect, but it was still loud and chaotic. I was dressed in a light blue set of form-fitting yoga wear to show off my curves, and I definitely got a few looks on my way across the floor. From the photos on Steve's iPad I knew I was looking for an attractive younger couple. But I didn't want to be too obvious about looking for them, so I grabbed a seat near the middle of the club and hoped I'd spot them before long.

Less than a minute after I sat down, one of the dancers was by my shoulder and trying hard to make her shouting sound like anything other than shouting. "Blondie baby, I'm Carmen, you want a dance?" she shouted.

I nodded and smiled, and tried to relax, but she just stood there for a minute and stroked my arm. Oh, right, I thought, and dug into my purse for $25 to give her. She smiled, the money disappeared, and suddenly I had a heavily made-up Latina girl riding my thigh. She was dressed - or barely dressed, I guess - in a tiny sheer top that tied together in the front over her smallish breasts, and boy shorts over a pretty sizable ass, both parts of her outfit a very light pink. Just like my few other times at a strip club, I didn't find what she was doing very sexy, but I played along for the three or four minutes the song lasted.

When it was done, she stroked my cheek and leaned in. "I got more where that come from, babygirl, just say go," she said. I figured, What the hell, this is more or less what I'm being paid to do tonight up until the moment I try to seduce my client's wife, and I pulled out another $25. After Carmen took the money this time, she leaned in even more and kissed me on the lips, surprising me a little. Then she untied the front of her top and took it off, revealing her naked breasts. She had brown gumdrop nipples and glitter scattered around her boobs, and while I was staring at them I felt her hand slide under my waistband and onto my hip.

I reacted with a little gasp, so she leaned in again. "Want me to stop, blondie?" I shook my head silently. "You change your mind, let me know." I wondered just how far she was allowed to go with a customer in the middle of the main floor, but I imagined it also might be less of a big deal when the customer is a woman. Either way I got a partial answer to my question when she raised herself up a little and basically stuck her left nipple in my mouth. I figured I should play along, so I licked and sucked on her nipple while she pressed her lower body against mine. Soon she was entirely on my lap, her knees on either side of me, and a hand behind me sliding under my waistband and onto my ass this time. Okay, now I'm enjoying this, I thought, and I decided I would let her do whatever she wanted, or at least whatever she thought she could get away with.

After the second song ended I tipped Carmen $50, then handed her $25 for another dance. Her next move was to turn around and grind her ass on my breasts. That was not at all a turn-on for me, but when she sat down in my lap again, this time with her back to me, she actually reached behind her and slid a hand under my waistband in the front, and I shuddered. I figured people around us probably couldn't see that she had a hand in my crotch, but I still felt a little weird about it, and I was a little shocked to think that only a little over a hundred bucks had gotten us to this point. That said, she was still feeling around on the outside of my panties, so it was basically a tease, and I was fine with that. She finally stood up again and brought her other breast up close to my face this time, and I went along with it and licked and sucked on her right nipple. I heard a few guys nearby cheering, and I thought about whether it was really such a good idea for me to draw attention to myself. When the third song ended, I tipped Carmen another $50 and sent her on her way.

Looking around to get my bearings again, I spotted my client and his wife not too far away, with a topless dancer on each of their laps. They were clearly enjoying themselves, and I watched until the next song was over and the dancers stepped away. Okay, let's get on with this, I thought as I stood up and threw my purse back over my shoulder, I still need that other eight thousand dollars pretty badly. I walked over to them and smiled.

"That was really hot," I said. "I hope it's okay that I was watching you and those dancers."

They looked at each other for a moment, then back at me.

"I, um - I always thought the idea of a strip club was pretty funny, you know, pay someone to turn you on, then you have to go home by yourself?" I tried to laugh at my own comment. "I guess you guys don't have to worry about the 'by yourself' part, though." I didn't want to push too hard, but so far they weren't giving me much to work with. Then I remembered I wasn't supposed to know already that they're together, and hoped the wife hadn't noticed.

"Your first time here?" she asked.

"Yeah, what about you?" I asked, pretty certain of the answer already.

"Not even close, Snowflake," she replied in a tone that was hard for me to read.

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm just saying nobody came here to see you put on a show," the wife said, and my throat closed a little.

"I wasn't putting - no, I mean, I was only getting lapdances, like you. I enjoyed it but I wasn't trying to... I was just turned on." I swallowed hard.

The wife nodded. "And you thought it was important for us to know you were turned on, that's why you're over here?" Next to her, the husband looked down and shook his head a little.

"Yes!" I said, laughing nervously, and praying there was still some way to salvage this. "Well, kind of! I'm - sorry, I know this is really forward, but I think you're both really attractive and I really wanted to - wow, that's a lot of 'really's - can I get to know you both? Maybe we can all have some fun together?" Inside I was cringing at how awkward I must sound, but I still hoped I hadn't completely whiffed.

The wife laughed out loud. "Snowflake, you sit over there for ten minutes with a dancer's titty in your mouth, and you think that makes it okay for you to come over here and ask to get with my husband?"

"No, not just him, I meant you too - could you not call me that, please?"

"Okay, Queen Elsa," she said, and let out another laugh. This time her husband laughed a little, too, and my heart sank. "Gorgeous women of color as far as the eye can see, and you think you're such hot shit that we're gonna jump at the chance to take you home with us?" And there goes eight thousand dollars, I realized. Fuck.

I turned and walked swiftly toward the exit instead of sticking around for more insults, or humiliating myself with more desperate efforts to close the deal. I knew it was over. In fact I'd probably known it was over before my client's wife opened her mouth to speak, but I was in trouble, and I had to try. I started to cry before I reached the door. Outside, I was still a woman by herself with cash in her purse after midnight in the middle of nowhere, so I tried to make myself invisible in the valet parking lot while I called an Uber. I couldn't get a Share this time, and an UberX was an eleven-minute wait, but it would have to do. I allowed myself to sob for a few minutes behind an SUV, then pulled myself together.

"That wasn't cool," I heard a woman say, and I practically jumped out of my skin. Carmen was standing just outside the shadow of my hiding place, wearing a hoodie over her stripper outfit. "What that lady did."

"I guess," I said, shaking a little. "She was right, though. I was overstepping and I don't really belong here."

Carmen smiled. "Blondie, you got money to spend, you serving a whole-ass movie with that outfit, and you can lick a titty, you belong where you want to belong."

I laughed, not fully understanding but getting the gist. "I guess," I said again. "Either way I'm not showing my face around here again."

She shrugged and glanced around for a moment. "My break's not long. I just wanted to say what that lady did wasn't cool. And you are hot shit."

I rolled my eyes. "Please."

"You think I touch everybody like that?"

"I wondered, honestly."

"We don't get vanilla ice cream here," she said. "We met any other way, I'd be trying to get a taste for real."

My mind tried to process what she was saying, but it wasn't making sense. "A taste?"

Carmen laughed. "You gotta have it spelt out for you? Blondie, you chirping at a husband and wife in there, I know you taste snatch!"

"Oh!" I said, feeling dumb. "I mean - that's really sweet of you to say."

"Shit, nothing sweet about it, I got needs." She took my phone out of my hand, swiped out of the Uber app, and added a phone number to my contacts. "You in Queens and hot, chirp at me instead." She handed the phone back to me and went back inside without another word. I was still staring at the door in disbelief when my Uber pulled up.

*****

I had the next couple of days off from work, and I planned to stay in bed as much as possible, just stewing in my shame. There wasn't really much I could do to improve my situation anyway, at least not without other things happening that I couldn't control, so I didn't feel like doing anything or going anywhere. I checked under my mattress three times in the first two hours I was awake to confirm that there was still two thousand in cash there. Then I finally got a text from Vanessa just after noon.

"S is out and away the next two nights. Miss you. Want you here if you can be, as soon as you want to be."

You miss me? I wanted to reply, incredulous after the way she'd practically ignored me for weeks. But especially after fucking up my most recent gig and all the bad legal and financial shit that was awaiting me, I was feeling low and the invitation was more of a boost than I was proud to admit. "Give me a couple of hours," I replied.

I showered, blow-dried my hair, got dressed, and added a few touches of make-up. Then I shoved a few things in a bag in case she meant she wanted me there both nights, and I took the subway to TriBeCa to save money that I really couldn't afford to spend for a while. The doorman nodded and waved me through, and he must have alerted Vanessa at that point, because when the elevator opened on the eighteenth floor she was standing in the doorway to their apartment wearing a tiny purple see-through negligee and a grin, and holding out a glass of what I assumed was Scotch, with a single ice cube in it. I laughed and felt weeks of stress and tension start to lift off my shoulders.

Three and a half minutes later Vanessa and I were naked in their guest room bed, and I wondered why I had bothered with the blow-drying or the make-up. She kissed me and stroked me gently, tenderly, almost hesitantly compared to her brash, controlling touch in the Gild Hotel. This time she didn't stop me from trying to please her, so I kissed her all over, ran my fingers over her amazing curves, nibbled on her neck and breasts, and fingered and licked her delicious pussy. She purred and cooed, and her skin started to flush all over as I slowly ate her out. Her hands tightened on my hair a little when she came with a shudder, but that was as close as she came to the sort of aggression I'd felt during that last afternoon with her. When she climbed on top of me for a sixty-nine, it was intense but beautiful. She went down on me like she cared about my pleasure this time, not like she was forcing pleasure on me to see how far I would let her go, and I put all of my missing her for the past God knows how many weeks into my tongue's passion for her lips. We held tightly to each other's hips and asses like this was exactly where our bodies were supposed to be, and we quaked and shivered when we came. Afterward Vanessa rolled off, climbed on top of me, and pulled me into a tight hug. She kissed my neck, my nose, my mouth... and kept kissing. It was overwhelmingly intimate, and I started crying.

"Oh no, Christina," Vanessa said, holding my face in her hands. "I didn't want to make you cry again! I'm so sorry, whatever I did this time, please forgive me." I wasn't ready or able to stop, so she grabbed some tissues for me and kept talking. "I honestly don't know who I was in the hotel room with you last time, and it scared the hell out of me. I think I was so happy I found you that I needed to show you I wouldn't let you go, and I went way too far, which was cruel of me, and stupid. I put up walls when I should've been letting you in. Even that video stunt I made you do... I couldn't look at myself in the mirror the next morning. Baby, you shouldn't ever have to pay an emotional price to see me. I promise, no more gatekeeping, no more being mean or possessive. I want to be your friend and your lover for real, Christina. I need you."

I managed to pull myself together, and blew my nose with a laugh. "I'm really glad to hear that," I said, "because I didn't know what I had done to deserve being taken and used and then pushed away like that." I also wasn't completely sure how Vanessa cheating on her husband with me in their guest room fit in with my image of being her friend "for real," but that could wait.

"Nothing," she whispered, kissing my chin. "Nothing. I'm so sorry."

"I know that now," I replied. "I'm just exhausted and I've been going through a lot this past week."

"Hey," said Vanessa, laying on her side and propping her head in her hand, "I'm so sorry. You can tell me if you want, but you don't have to."

I laughed again, realizing that if I actually told her, I would never see her again. "Just... some stupid legal trouble over some stupid money trouble. It's not your fault or your problem."

She nodded. "Maybe not, but if you're having money trouble, I can help, I hope you know that. I feel even worse now for how I treated you, if it made you feel like you couldn't ask for my help."

"No, no, I never would've asked to begin with. It's really sweet that you want to help, but this is not your circus and not your monkeys."

Vanessa laughed. "I love that. But I care about you, I don't want to see you in trouble, and I have a lot of money. Like, I don't want to be flip about it, but it's an embarrassing amount of money. And if it'll really help you, I want you to have some of it."

Oh Lord, I thought, how ironic would it be if the first "victim" of my crime spree helped me get out of trouble for what I did with the money I got paid for it? Still, this was some weird territory and I tried to decline again.

"No, it's too much," I said. "I can't ask you to do that."

"You're not asking," she said, "I'm offering. In fact, I'm doing." She got up and left the guest room.

"What? Vanessa, no -" I said, sitting up in the bed, but she was gone. I remembered how futile it had been to argue with her the first time, too.

Less than a minute later, she returned with a checkbook. "How much do you need?"

I blinked. "You can't be serious. Vanessa, this isn't your responsibility."

She shook her head. "Right now, my friend Christina is in pain. I'm in a position to alleviate her distress and it won't really affect me. So tell me how much." It's not real money or power unless it can change your life, I heard Steve's voice in my head. "Honey, you'd better tell me how much, or I'm going to write a really big number here."

I laughed, then cleared my throat. "Okay, but only if it's a loan, not a gift."

Vanessa smiled. "Whatever you want to call it is fine with me."

"Thank you, Vanessa, this is way above and beyond the call." I actually had to think for a minute about what amount would actually get me back to something resembling "normal," where I wouldn't be risking eviction, credit card fines, or student loan default, where I didn't have to deal with panic and desperation in the middle of trying to close the deal on threesomes for paying clients. Between Alonzo's retainer, the likely seizure of money I'd already spent, the income taxes, and everything else, and especially if I didn't end up with several threesome gigs lined up for the coming weeks... "Uh, fifty thousand dollars," I said, my voice squeaking a little as I cringed over just how big a hole I was in.

If she had a reaction to the amount, she didn't show it. She just wrote it down on the check, ripped it carefully from the stack, and handed it to me. "So," she said, "want to buy me dinner?" I smiled and tried really hard not to start crying again.

An hour later, we were eating some of the most amazing food I'd ever had, delivered from Thai Teakwood Chophouse a few blocks away - stuff I probably never would've thought to try on my own, like stir-fried Manila clams and chili turmeric squid. But Vanessa wanted me to feel taken care of, so we had ordered a lot. Naturally she had a couple of perfectly chilled bottles of Grüner Veltliner on hand to accompany the feast, and we were feeling pretty loose by the time we curled up together in comfy pajamas on a sofa in their media room to watch a movie.

Halfway through, Vanessa hit pause on the stream. "Hey, beautiful... something just occurred to me, and I hope it's okay to ask you a tough question."

Uh oh, I thought, here it comes. She figured out everything, and the shit's about to hit the fan. I took a few gulps from my glass to hide my nerves.

She stroked my cheek gently. "Did giving you a check to help you out of a jam right after we made love make you feel like I was paying you for sex?"

I nearly choked on my wine.

*****

There was a time when my favorite way to wake up was to the smell of pancakes and bacon already cooking in my childhood home. On this particular morning I awoke to the sensation of Vanessa's tongue lightly grazing my pussy lips, and I quietly wished for every morning to start like that from then on. We had fallen asleep in the guest room bed after what seemed like hours of naked cuddling and fooling around. Spending the night with someone who cared about me at all was pretty rare, and the most recent example was many months in the past, so it was hard not to want more of this even if I knew in my heart that it was a bad idea. The better Vanessa got to know me, the more likely I would fuck everything up - for her and Steve's marriage, for my and Steve's burgeoning criminal enterprise, for my financial well-being, maybe even for my freedom. But she knew how to make my body sing arias that would make the Metropolitan Opera jealous, and how was I supposed to resist that? I had chosen a side hustle that was guaranteed to isolate me and thwart any real intimacy, even as I rapidly added to my physical body count by constantly lying and pretending to be women I was not. I was human. I wanted this remarkable woman who wanted me. I pulled her head closer to my center and growled, and once she knew that she'd succeeded at arousing me - and at arousing me - she climbed up my body to kiss me on the mouth.

"Good morning," she said.

"Good morning, gorgeous," I replied.

Vanessa shifted her body around and hooked a leg over my thigh, then pulled me in until our legs intertwined and our pussies touched. I was so shocked at this brand-new sensation that my mouth fell open, and she quietly laughed as she pulled me into an embrace. "Christina, I can't get enough of tasting you, but I'm desperate to look into your eyes when you come and tell you how beautiful you are."

I shivered, then instinctively started to grind against her, and it felt like our pussies were generating sparks as they rubbed together. Scissoring in lesbian porn had always looked ridiculous to me, like something invented purely by straight men for other straight men because they needed to see something close to missionary position to get off. But being able to hold Vanessa tight, feel the heat of her breath on my face and the pressure of her breasts against mine, and fuck each other like this, was unexpectedly amazing. We continued to move in rhythm with each other for a long while, enough that I was starting to get sweaty and hungry even as I neared an orgasm. I leaned in and kissed Vanessa just as my body tensed up, and her hands grasped harder at my ass. I yelled wordlessly into her mouth and scratched at her back, wanting this explosion of pleasure to last forever. When it did begin to wane, I released the kiss, and Vanessa said, "You're even more beautiful when you come."

I immediately started fucking her again, and with a smile, I said, "You will be, too."

*****

"You got cocky, Christina," Steve said. I was slumped down on a bench next to him. I had not been looking forward to this meeting after how badly the strip club went, and even two days of secretly making love with his unfaithful wife couldn't erase that blunder. "You started off strong your first two times out, so you figured you were on a hot streak, or it would always go your way or something, but you got cocky, and our guy was not happy about it. It was all I could do to convince him the two thousand dollar deposit had to stay non-refundable, and he still wants the rest of the dance and tip money back anyway. Frankly, I think that's a pretty reasonable demand."

I nodded and looked around the plaza instead of at him. "You're right, Steve. And the client is right about the money, though I also have to say I think he was reading his wife wrong, or at least he was way too optimistic. I'm not sure any white girl she'd never met before was going to land that plane, and you can't tell me he didn't know I was white." I was being honest about that, but at the same time I was glad to have an additional excuse besides cockiness - and the legitimate desperation I'd had at the time that I couldn't let Steve know about. He wasn't depending on a cut of my fees to earn a living or anything, but neither of us would get much further with this operation without our credibility intact.

"Maybe," Steve said, "but we'll never know."

I sighed. "I'll eat the Uber rides, and I had $225 left at the end of the night. Can you just take that out of the next deposit you bring me?"

"Not really - just pass it to me in the check folder next time I'm here. You know I only bring hundreds when I have something for you, and speaking of which I've got three deposits for you tonight."

I sat up straight and looked him in the eyes for the first time since we sat down. "Three? You're kidding."

He shrugged. "You're the one who asked me to set up five more gigs. It's not my fault people are so excited to pull the trigger."

Three more deposits brings me to eight thousand dollars in cash for now, I did the math in my head, and as soon as I close even one of those deals I'll have another eight for a total of sixteen, which I can deposit all at once. Then if I close the other two, I've got another sixteen on top of that. I hadn't planned far enough ahead to figure out when it would be safe to start paying Vanessa's loan back to her, but just for the sake of my pride and whatever our friendship was to become, there was no way I could let her not let me pay her back. Then I started to worry that if she refused to let me pay her back, I might have to pay income tax on her gift. Something else to ask Alonzo, I made a note, which'll cost me another few hundred dollars. Maybe that one is simple enough to Google.

"So, do you want to know?"

I realized I hadn't said anything in a couple of minutes. "Want to know what?"

Steve laughed. "Which three women you're supposed to seduce, when, and for whom," he said.

"Oh, that would probably be helpful," I replied. Steve pulled out the iPad.

*****

"'Further Affiant sayeth naught'? What does that mean?"

Alonzo smiled. "It means that's the end of the affidavit, so anyone reading it knows there's nothing missing from the copy they received. A little old fashioned, but I'm a sucker for formality. So is it both accurate and complete? Did I forget anything or get anything wrong?"

I sighed. "No, sadly it's exactly right. You really think this is going to do the trick?"

He shrugged. "I don't know for sure, but I know the U. S. Attorney, and she's just and fair-minded. Could depend a little on the AUSA who's assigned to investigate, but I like our chances."

"My chances, you mean," I said. "You're not risking jail or a fine, here."

"No, I'm not," he acknowledged. "But please don't ever doubt that what happens to my clients affects me personally."

"Yeah, me too," I muttered.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing," I said. "Do you have a pen and a notary handy?"

*****

Dear UnicornFacilitator,

My wife and I love a good couples massage. Usually we go to a spa when there's a special or a Groupon, but sometimes we splurge on having someone come to our home instead. She's hinted before that if it's an attractive woman and a really good massage, she can get a little frisky. She's never said "I would have a threesome with you and a hot masseuse if I got really turned on" in so many words, but I feel like it's what she means, or what she wants to say. I've never been able to test my theory because massage therapists can get really upset if you ask them about happy endings, threesomes, anything sexual like that, and I'm afraid if one of them leaves in a huff and I have to explain why, my wife will get upset and after that it'll never happen. But if someone comes in to give a couples massage already knowing what I'm hoping will happen, and she does and says the right things, I feel like my wife would totally go along with it. I don't know if Unicorn can pull off a credible massage, but if so, I think she might be the solution. I'll pay for tables, oils, whatever she needs.

Yours,

Tense in Turtle Bay

*****

I climbed out of an Uber at the corner of Second Avenue and East 44th Street, not too far from the United Nations headquarters, and pulled my rented tables out of the trunk. I was surprised to learn that nobody really makes massage tables that hold two people, but I could understand where something like that would get pretty bulky. Plus I supposed a massage therapist might have a difficult time reaching every part of both people on it. In any event I was confident I knew what I was doing. After my trainwreck in Queens, I was determined never to be caught unprepared or cocky again. I was wearing white pants and t-shirt to look the part, I had a couple of different oils and several sets of sheets in a shoulder bag, and I had practiced setting up one of the tables in my bedroom at home so that I was an old hand at it. I had never given a professional massage, but I'd received a few. I knew my hands and arms were strong from bartending, and I already owned Dansko shoes so I could be on my feet for long stretches. I even spent some time reviewing New York State regulations for massage therapists, so I knew the finer points, like the fact that I was supposed to keep someone's body completely draped with sheets or blankets except for the one individual body part I was working on at any given moment.

Of course the regulations also prohibit any contact with genitals, so if this session went as far as the client wanted it to, I probably wouldn't get any complaints about draping deficiencies.

After a quick elevator ride I found the client's apartment, and his wife opened the door for me. She was a petite blonde woman, a good several inches shorter than me and awfully cute for someone in her forties. "I'm Abigail," I said brightly.

"Jessica," the wife said. "Please come in, set your tables down, and make yourself at home. Mitchell just ran downstairs on an errand, he'll be right back. Can I get you anything?"

"I have water in my bag, but thank you," I said, holding out a hand to shake hers now that I had one free.

After pointing out the bathroom, Jessica led me to what she called their "home office," which seemed like a small extra bedroom with one small window, and a desk pushed all the way into the corner with a lot of papers on it. There was just enough room for me and my tables, and after Jessica excused herself to change, I started to set up. I realized I hadn't thought to bring a small table for stuff like oils, but the windowsill would do fine. I heard the apartment door close again as I fitted a few layers of sheets onto each table, and then I set up my phone on the windowsill and started some soft, new-agey music playing.

They appeared in the doorway together, both dressed in bathrobes. The husband was taller, and looked kind of like a young Oscar Isaac, right down to the beard, but with lighter, sandy hair. "Hi, I'm Abigail," I said to the husband, and he shook my hand.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Mitchell," he said. "Thanks for coming to our home - we know in-call can be a real hassle, so we appreciate it."

"Not at all, I love to do whatever I can to make my clients' lives easier," I said with a smile. "So I'm going to leave the room for a couple of minutes, and you should disrobe as much as you feel comfortable, climb under the topsheets face down, and let me know when you're ready."

I stepped into the bathroom and leaned on the counter to steady myself. I took some slow, deep breaths and reminded myself that either way, I was just trying to provide a service here. No matter what, if I gave my best effort, I'd keep the two thousand dollars and the client and his wife would enjoy the amateur massage. Anything else was gravy, and I resolved not to push too hard if I felt like it wasn't going to get there.

"Ready," I heard Jessica call, and I walked back in to give them the massage of a lifetime.

Mitch had let Steve know that he typically books two hours for a couples massage, so I legitimately spent an entire hour doing what I understood to be reasonable and important massage things, first on her, then on him - legs, arms, back, shoulders, neck. I stretched their limbs, worked out knots, and kneaded oil into their skin until they were both glistening. Then I asked them each to turn over, and carefully held the topsheet just above their bodies to give them clearance for the flip, first her, then him.

After Mitchell's flip, I heard Jessica laugh. "Oh, my God, Mitch!

I looked up, and now that he was lying on his back his sheet had formed a tent over his crotch. I laughed a little as well.

"I'm sorry, Abigail," he said. "I guess I was just really enjoying your work. I can put on underwear if you prefer."

I glanced over at Jessica, who shrugged at me with a smile. "You don't have to do that on my account," I said. "If you're both comfortable with it, I'm happy to consider it a compliment." For all I knew, the real reason he had a hard-on was that he thought he might end up in a threesome at any minute, but that was his problem to explain if he had to.

"I think it's awesome," said Jessica. "And if it helps, Abigail, I'm really enjoying your work, too. Even if you can't tell just from looking at me." I laughed and filed that away, hoping she meant that she was also sexually aroused, but I always needed to be wary of assuming too much when something hadn't been said explicitly.

I went back to work, doing as much as I could to maintain the pretense that I was going by the book. When it came time to do Jessica's shoulders and sides from the top, I took advantage of her relatively flat chest to work my oiled fingers ever closer to her nipples without quite touching them, prepared to claim, if questioned, that I simply couldn't tell where the chest ended and the breast began. She certainly didn't complain.

When I moved over to Mitchell to work on his upper body, Jessica rolled over toward him to watch. "Abigail, I haven't seen him react like this before, even with other young women," she said after a few minutes, nodding in the direction of his still-very-obvious erection. "I really would take it as a compliment."

I laughed. "That's very kind of you to say, thank you."

"I'm looking forward to taking advantage of that - I mean, helping him out with that - after you're all finished."

I nodded, then silently worked on Mitchell's neck for a couple of minutes just to make sure my next move didn't seem too eager. But I also didn't want to lean too far in the other direction by joking about how I could get in trouble over this, because I was pretty sure that would bring everything to a screeching halt no matter how light-heartedly I said it. Finally, I gradually slowed my hands down to a stop. "You, um..." I looked up at Jessica. "You don't have to wait until I'm done on my account. If you don't want to."

Under my hands I could practically feel Mitchell straining to hold perfectly still while he waited to see what would happen next. Jessica looked up at me with a surprised little smile, and I gave the most innocent shrug I could muster. Without a word, Jessica wrapped her topsheet around herself, stepped down from her table, and reached for her husband's topsheet. Don't have to tell me twice, I heard Larry the math professor say in my head. Jessica pulled the topsheet off slowly but completely, leaving Mitchell lying naked on the remaining sheets, his penis pointing directly skyward, a bit of clear liquid trickling slowly down the side of its head. I went back to working on his neck just to establish that I was still a consummate professional, but I watched as Jessica wrapped a hand around his dick and started to stroke it. We're not home yet, I reminded myself. I was pretty sure a solid couples massage followed by me watching their post-massage sex wouldn't count as landing the threesome as far as the client was concerned, and frankly I would agree with that wholeheartedly. So I stayed as patient as I possibly could, just watching and working.

Jessica slipped her mouth over the head of Mitchell's cock, and he groaned. She looked up at me and winked, and I smiled back. "I've never had any of this happen before with massage clients," I said without lying even a little bit, and my heart was actually pounding. "It's... kind of amazing. But I feel a little weird about watching."

Jessica let Mitchell's dick fall out of her mouth, then she placed a hand on his chest and looked at him inquiringly. He nodded, and she looked back up at me. "Then maybe you want to... stop watching, and help instead?"

My heart raced even faster. "Is that... holy shit, is that what you want?" I tried to inject as much of my actual surprise as I could into my response without letting on how fucking relieved I was to be closing the deal this time.

This petite married woman, the woman I'd been paid to "seduce" into a threesome, stepped a little closer to me and reached out for my hand. She led me to the center of her husband's table and wrapped both of our hands around his cock, where we started stroking it together.

"I think that's a yes," Mitchell said, and Jessica and I laughed out loud.

Jessica leaned down and took the head of Mitchell's cock in her mouth again, licking and sucking while I kept stroking. I had a pretty good sense by this point that the best approach with her was going to be for me to act surprised and even a little hesitant with each new step forward the three of us took, so I pretended to be content just to give her husband a handjob while she made it a blowjob. Meanwhile, between the beautiful sight in front of me and the knowledge I was going to get another eight thousand dollars out of this, my pussy was soaking wet and I was ready to scream at them just to fuck me already. But I kept my cool, and after a few minutes Jessica looked up at me again. "Want a taste?" she asked me.

"Really?" I whispered, opening my eyes wide, and she nodded in reply. I waited a few seconds, then leaned down next to her face and wrapped my mouth around Mitchell's dick, first the head, then more and more of the shaft until I felt it fill my mouth. I bobbed up and down slowly, and I saw that Jessica was playing with his balls while I sucked on him. After a few more minutes I felt a hand playing with my hair, then Jessica put a finger under my chin, lifted my head up off her husband's cock, and kissed me. I kissed back softly.

When Jessica broke our kiss, I tried to summon my inner Katie to convey inexperience and amazement. "Oh, my God," I said to her. She tugged at the topsheet still wrapped around her, and it fell to the floor, leaving her naked. "Oh, my God," I repeated, drinking in the gorgeous sight of her entire body. She lifted my shirt from the bottom and pulled it over my head, then reached behind me and unhooked my bra. "Oh, my God!" I said one more time as it fell off my breasts to the floor. She leaned forward and started sucking first one nipple, then the other. A spark went off in my groin, and I kept struggling against the urge to dive into the deep end right away. "Jessica, I've never - I don't know how - I mean you're my first -"

Jessica kissed me again, and smiled. "Me, too!" she said, taking me by the arms. "Abigail, I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing, I just know that you're really sexy, I want you, and I want to watch Mitchell fuck you, too, and I'm scared that if I don't ask for all of this now I'll never have the guts to try again with someone else. Is that insane and am I a horrible person?"

I laughed and kissed her. "It's completely insane, you're a gorgeous woman and not even a little bit horrible, and the two of you are such a sexy couple I can't stand it. I'm utterly terrified, and thoroughly turned on. I just have no idea what comes next!"

"Your pants, I think," said Mitchell. We turned to see him now sitting up on his table and stroking his own cock, and we both lost it, laughing hysterically for a bit.

"Way to break the tension, babe," Jessica said after she recovered, and kissed him.

"May I...?" I asked, pointing at him, and Jessica nodded. I kissed Mitchell, and gave his still-very-erect cock a friendly tug while I was at it. Then I stepped back and spread my arms out wide. "Okay, who's going to take off my pants?" I asked, trying to capitalize on the new, lighter tone in the room.

Mitchell jumped down, unbuttoned and unzipped me in record time, and slid my pants down to my ankles where I stepped out of them.

"Holy shit, your legs are spectacular," Jessica said, and I felt my face get hot.

"Wait 'til you get a load of what's between them," I laughed, and this time Mitchell snorted. I pulled off my panties and tossed them to the side, feeling really high on the positive energy these two were bringing.

"Something's missing, though," Jessica said. "Abigail, get on the table - Mitch, hand me that bottle of oil."

"Oh, that's genius," Mitchell replied, and grabbed the oil. I climbed on as instructed, and lay face-down.

"Fuck that, Abigail, you need to flip over so I can watch Mitchell oil up those amazing boobs." I laughed but I complied, and I really was ridiculously turned on.

Mitchell and Jessica passed the oil back and forth, and they started at either end of me: Mitchell on my shoulders and neck, Jessica on my lower legs. But it wasn't long before Mitchell's hands were on my breasts, gently but thoroughly spreading oil all over them, with special attention to my nipples. Meanwhile Jessica had worked her way up to my thighs, and she spread them apart, then climbed up on the table between them.

"Hey babe," Mitchell said, and he and Jessica kissed for a few seconds. "I really love you," he added, then went back to work on my breasts.

"I love you too, hon," she replied. Then she scooted her body down, lowered her head, and planted her mouth on my pussy.

"Oh, fuck," I said, a little surprised she went there so quickly but not sad about it. While Jessica licked my wet, slick lips and nibbled lightly on my clit, Mitchell sucked on one of my nipples and massaged the other with his hand. My whole body was vibrating, and I thought to myself, I still cannot fucking believe I'm getting paid for shit like this!

"Stand up," I said to Mitchell, and he did, which allowed me to reach over, grab his dick, and pull him closer. Rolling my upper body toward him as much as I could without interfering with Jessica's important task on the lower half, I shoved Mitchell's dick most of the way into my mouth, and started sucking it and rolling my tongue around it.

"Daaaamn," he said, and kept working on my breasts as much as he could in that position.

"Don't you dare make him come yet," Jessica said, lifting her head briefly before sticking her tongue back on my clit, then she slid a couple of fingers inside me. I held up a thumbs-up, and heard them both laugh. While I did my best to get Mitchell off without getting him off, Jessica was actually going to get me off. If this was her first time with a woman, her instincts were fantastic, and I felt the waves of pleasure rising up inside me quickly.

"Mmmffl," I moaned with Mitchell's cock in my mouth, and repeated it a few more times, louder each time. My whole body shook for at least a minute afterward. I let Mitchell's dick fall out of my mouth, and said, "Jesus Christ, Jessica, that was amazing."

She slid off the table and offered her husband her hand for a high-five, which he promptly delivered, and I laughed and sat up. "Okay," Jessica said, "I'm a little jazzed up right now, so I'm sorry if this sounds blunt, but I would really love to know what it feels like to sit on your face while Mitch fucks you. Is that cool?"

I pulled her toward me and kissed her. I replied, "Yes, but Mitch has to use a condom. There's one in my purse that shouldn't be too old, if you guys don't have..."

"Well, thank God, that could've been an awkward reason to take a ten-minute break," Jessica chuckled.

I dug the condom - which I really had been bringing everywhere with me for over a year just in case - out of my purse and handed it to Mitchell. Then I sat back down on the end of the table, and lay down with my legs dangling and spread wide. "Let's do this thang," I said, still feeling goofy on top of thoroughly horny.

Instead of just throwing the condom directly onto his dick, Mitchell stashed it on the windowsill, knelt down between my legs and started lapping at my pussy, picking up where his wife had left off. "Oh, fuck!" I cried, and writhed a little. "My God, the two of you!"

Jessica climbed up on the other end of the table, got on her knees, and positioned herself right above my head. She gazed down at me with a look so hungry that I felt a desperate need to make her scream. I grabbed her hips and brought her down to my mouth, where I started licking every part of her that my tongue could reach, inside and out. I felt her falter, and she braced herself with her hands on my chest. She quickly started to play with my nipples since they were convenient, and Mitchell was doing a good job between my legs, though not as good a job as Jessica had done. He suddenly wasn't there, and although all I could see at the moment was Jessica's ass, I heard the condom wrapper rip. A minute later, I felt him grab my hip and start swiping the tip of his cock up and down my lips as a prelude. Finally, he slid inside, and paused at the point of being buried to the hilt. Then he started fucking me, and the table shook, pitching Jessica forward and back on my mouth. He fucked me as hard as I'd been fucked in a while, and I let out a series of muffled yelps. Yes, I thought, I want to feel you trying to get every penny's worth of the ten thousand dollars that bought you this debauchery.

I felt Jessica's angle change, then I heard the couple kissing again while we all fucked. I wished I could watch this sweet, intimate moment, but I was too busy being their whore. It felt so incredible having a naked woman on top of me with my mouth on her pussy, and her husband's cock inside of me. Mitchell's stamina was impressive - he fucked me for way longer than Larry had after drinks at Shalel, and even longer than Steve after the Flatiron Room. I came after a while just from him fucking me, which was rare for me; in the meantime, I made his wife come twice with my mouth, and her juices were all over my face and neck. After Mitchell finally finished with a hard thrust and a sustained groan, Jessica decided she was done, too, and slowly lay down beside me. I rolled over into Jessica's arms, and we snuggled naked.

"Will the table hold all three of us safely?" Mitchell asked.

"Eight-hundred-pound max, baby," I said breathily. Naturally I'd done my research before deciding which tables to rent, knowing either one might end up with three people on top of it.

Mitchell climbed up, and completed our little pile of spent bodies. It was over, and this afterglow was really nice, but I needed to make an exit. Instead of panicking over possible lunch invitations and other unforeseen complications, though, I tried hard to relax and let the moment take care of itself. Soon enough, it started to.

"Can we, um - wash the sheets for you, or anything?" Jessica asked, stroking my breast. It was all I could do not to laugh, remembering Vanessa's soliloquy about dry cleaning that first night.

"Oh, that's really nice of you to offer, but I wash them after every massage anyway, since grapeseed oil and sweat come with the territory. Granted, a little spooge and a little squirt are a first for me, so I have no idea if they'll come out. Luckily I buy the sheets in bulk."

"Oh, of course," Jessica said. "Silly of me."

"Not at all," said, and I decided to be the first to sit up. "This was amazing and unexpected, but I actually have another massage in a couple of hours. I should go home and clean up."

We all climbed down, I slid my panties back on, and after a quick trip to the bathroom I returned to find Mitchell and Jessica back in their bathrobes. I finished getting dressed, threw all the sheets and accessories into my bag, and folded up the tables with some help from the two of them. Nobody really said much while I was packing up, which was probably just as well given where the conversation could've gone, but of course I couldn't make my escape without a truly weird moment. Jessica reached out to me, holding an envelope.

"We, uh, we want you to have this," she said.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "I didn't even finish your actual massages."

Jessica laughed. "Maybe not, but I didn't think it would be right to be like, 'Oh, she also had sex with us, so we shouldn't tip her.'"

I laughed, too - I hadn't considered that wrinkle in advance, and I looked over at Mitchell, who shrugged at me. He had already laid out two thousand dollars to set this up, he was going to have to send Steve eight thousand for the balance, and here was his wife, offering me even more because she had no idea I wasn't actually a massage therapist. I wished I could telepathically tell him to deduct whatever they were tipping me from the eight grand, but I could always try to make it right through Steve later. I took the envelope and said, "Thank you." At least Jessica wasn't asking when they could book me again.

"Mitchell has your info if we want to book you again? For massages," she added hastily.

Oops. "Listen, this is really weird and brand-new territory for me, but after what happened I think the most ethical thing for me to do would be not to accept you as clients again, even if we're all totally clear that it would be only for massages. I could lose my license or even get in legal trouble."

"Oh," said Jessica. Then she asked the one thing I truly hoped she wouldn't. "Then... would it be totally crazy if we wanted to hang out with you again... socially?" For more sex, was the unspoken part. Not without another ten grand, I couldn't say out loud, no matter how much fun it was this time. I absolutely could not afford to continue entangling myself in the private lives of women I'd technically victimized - Vanessa was already more than I could handle. Luckily, I had a solid excuse ready just in case, I'd just hoped not to have to use it.

"I, um - I'm in a relationship. A committed relationship, believe it or not." Jessica literally seemed to get a little bit shorter as she reacted. "I had a fantastic time with you guys and I don't regret it for a second, we're all consenting adults and I haven't come like that in months. I hope it was good for you both, too. But I was caught up in the moment and that's something I have to figure out on my own."

"Well," Jessica said, then paused for a few moments. "I can't say I'm not disappointed but I respect your decision. I've always been terrified of a threesome, so I'm really grateful for how comfortable you helped me feel today. Helped us feel," she added. "It was way more fun than I ever expected it to be, and I think that's mostly because of how cool and laid back you are. And how hot you are, in case I hadn't mentioned it."

I laughed and blushed a little, then kissed her on the cheek. "You guys are sexy as hell, and you made my first threesome wonderful, too," I lied. "And I really have to be going."

They each hugged me one last time, and I was on my way.

*****

In an Uber on my way home to Brooklyn, I received an email from Alonzo: "Christina - the AUSA over at SDNY reached out to me for a meeting with you, and I set it up for tomorrow at 1:30pm in their office, 26 Federal Plaza, 37th floor. Let me know ASAP if that works for you."

I simply replied, "Yup," then rolled my eyes, yawned, and laid my head back against the car seat. I'd just spent the afternoon committing state prostitution crimes by fucking people for money, and committing state "education law" crimes by massaging without a license and - well - also by fucking people for money, really. I was too tired right now to worry about federal financial crimes, and I was ready for a shower and a good night's sleep.