By Crazy Horse
Allison turned her head over her shoulder and stared at herself in the mirror. She had let her robe slip down to the floor, exposing her skin to the open air. The evening shower had been warm, leaving her pale skin pinkish under the bedroom's soft lights. The air was crisp; Allison preferred an open fire to central heating and the coals burning in the living room hearth had already been dark for more than an hour. No matter, Allison didn't mind the cold – it puckered her nipples and bit her lips like a lover.
At thirty Allison had held her figure nicely. She had always been stout, but shapely. At five foot, seven she was no mere wisp. Her bones were solid and her hips were wide, with a full bosom. Her curly, dusky hair poured down her shoulders, setting in stark contrast to her pale skin. Over the past decade Allison's thighs had swelled a bit; her belly had begun to pucker and sag. But she had the kind of face that still turned the heads of the young law students that clerked for her in the firm. Young men – boys, really – still wanted her and that always gave Allison a soft tingle in the right places.
It was long after midnight. Thomas was away in the den reading one of his books. He was the kindest husband any woman could want. A librarian, they had met at college. She had been the ambitious young attorney and he the bookish, boyish charmer who still felt more at home with the likes of Dickens, Twain, or Pound than swimming through the sea of society that Allison's career required.
They were happy. Thomas was home at five each evening, with dinner on the table when Allison finally pulled the Lexus into the driveway. The man was sweet, handsome to a fault, and as perfect as a picture.
Allison picked her robe up off the floor and flopped down on the bed. Perhaps too perfect, she thought. The marriage was going on its seventh year. The careers were on track, the house large, and the cars always new. All of Allison's girlfriends were in love with Thomas and Thomas was in love with Allison. How perfect. How perfectly dull.
It was a mere accident that led Allison down the path she was now about to take. One of those damned law clerks – who was supposed to be running LEXUS/NEXUS searches for her – had actually spent a day of company time cruising the latest in low grade porn. On top of that, he had kept his browser open when leaving work for the day. Allison was usually the last to leave her floor at the firm in the evening, so when she stooped to darken the blinking monitor on her way out of the office, the glowing neon sex show that had been left in place caught her eye. She had never been one for this kind of thing, but that night it held her attention – and kept her at the office an extra hour. Within a month she had become quite the aficionado.
Allison was not a lesbian, although she did find other women's bodies attractive, stimulating so. She liked to look at them, not so much having sex, but standing or sitting, naked, in soft poses. She developed a few favorite sites, finding a taste for “girl-next-door types” who posted their pictures to earn some extra cash or alleviate a little boredom. She thought about how lovely these ladies looked, from nineteen to sixty-nine, so feminine, adored by thousands of men and women in secrecy. And so the idea was born, she wanted to become one of these women, with an army of unknown, secret lovers all enjoying her body, at a distance.
It took a month for her to share the idea with Thomas. In his typical, understated fashion, he supported her. He was tolerably good with a camera and even found the idea a bit arousing himself. Thomas' only job would be to snap the shots and leave the rest to Allison – this would be her project, hers and hers alone. She would keep it going until she finally grew tired of it. And, who knew? Perhaps no one would even care to look at her!
Allison rolled over on her stomach and fished her hand around next to the bed. There was a glass of merlot there somewhere. It was the fourth one that evening, for this was the night when her picture page would go live. Allison had picked her favorite website to act as a host. It was a typical amateur models' site, featuring about two hundred ladies from varying backgrounds and of differing ages, colors, and sizes. The site acted as the central host, with subscribers joining the individual sites of their favorite ladies. The host kept a surcharge, with a premium being passed to the girls. It was up to the model to update her own site, with active updates encouraging more business. The money did not matter to Allison, just the exposure. She wanted a lot of membership – the money she would do something else with, charity perhaps.
It took a little while to get things in motion. Allison and Thomas toyed with several different photo sets, finally settling on a batch they took in the bedroom, with Allison draped in the same silk robe she was wearing at the moment. A little wine helped get her into poses, but she had seen enough of the other women on line to make a good go of it. The premiere set of pictures was quite good. They were nicely staged and well lit – Thomas had a little equipment for that.
Allison had toyed with the idea of adopting a suitably seductive “porn star” name, but in the end they all seemed too silly. She chose instead her childhood nickname, Ali. That would do just fine. By now, the site had now been up for several hours, but Allison had resisted the temptation of checking her membership stats. Thomas did not ask about the site, he was willing to let his wife have her private fun.
Finally, though, the temptation became too great. There would be no sleep without a peek at the Web. Allison downed her merlot and pulled on her slippers. Creeping down to her home office, she slid her mouse, disabling the screen saver, and dialed into her site. Thomas had fallen asleep in the den. She could hear his soft snoozing drifting down the hall.
Allison scanned the page. He heart leapt! My god, she thought, twelve members in a single day. She would have been happy with just one! She sat back in the office chair and closed her eyes. A little smile began to swim across her face. She slipped her hand between the folds of the robe. Wait! There was something she had missed!
Leaning forward, Allison grabbed her mouse. The “FEEDBACK” box on her stats screen indicated that she had a message from a user. She clicked the icon. One message, from someone called Britewhite81. Odd name.
“Dear Ali,” it read, “Wonderful site. More than worth my money! I hope you'll keep posting on a regular basis. You're just my type…a nice professional looking girl. What are you, a secretary? You're a bit on the skinny side, though! All my love, Brite.”
“What the fuck,” she mouthed under her breath, “'a bit on the skinny side?' What kind of comment is that?”
Allison pulled her silk robe tight over her belly and ran upstairs to bed.