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  BANG UP

  A novel by Jeff Strand

  Bang Up copyright 2018 by Jeff Strand

  Cover design by Lynne Hansen http://www.LynneHansenArt.com

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's perverted imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Seriously. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the author.

  For more information about the author, visit http://www.JeffStrand.com

  Subscribe to Jeff Strand's free monthly newsletter (which includes a brand-new original short story in every issue) at

  http://eepurl.com/bpv5br

  Acknowledgements

  Though they will deny reading this smut, thanks to Tod Clark, Donna Fitzpatrick, Lynne Hansen, Kenzie Jennings, Jim Morey, Rhonda Rettig, and Paul Synuria II.

  1

  "You want to pay me to sleep with your wife?"

  The man nodded.

  "Mind if I ask why?"

  "Introductions first." The man stuck out his hand. "I'm Ralph."

  Kirk Bammins didn't particularly want to shake this guy's hand, but he also didn't want to be impolite. The man was about forty, heavyset, and his white t-shirt was soaked with sweat even though the restaurant had the air conditioner blasting. He had a couple of days' worth of stubble, not in a stylish way, and wore a blue baseball cap. "Kirk."

  "Nice to meet you. I bet you don't get a lot of propositions like this at a pancake place, do you?"

  "No," said Kirk. "I do not."

  "Me either. Anyway, here's the deal: I wanna give you a thousand bucks, cash money, to do my wife. Five hundred bucks up front, and another five hundred when the dirty deed is done."

  Kirk could not conceive of how repulsive this woman must be for her husband to be soliciting complete strangers (at generous rates!) to service her. He could really, really use a thousand bucks, but the offer was not even remotely tempting.

  "You're swingers?"

  "Nah, nothing like that. I won't be on the other end of her, and I'm not gonna sit in the corner and whack it while I watch or anything kinky like that." Ralph took out his wallet, flipped it open, and showed Kirk a picture. "This is Julie."

  The woman in the picture was not even remotely repulsive. She was blonde, beautiful, and quite frankly, far too well-groomed to be with somebody like Ralph.

  "Nice," said Kirk.

  "Hell yeah, nice. You should see her body. Hopefully you will see her body."

  "Will it offend you if I say that you're being kind of creepy?"

  "Am I? Oh, jeez, I'm sorry. I've never done this kind of thing before."

  "So what's the deal?"

  Ralph sighed. "Me and Julie, we're coming up on our tenth wedding anniversary. She's quite a bit younger than me. How old are you? Thirty?"

  "Twenty-nine."

  "She's thirty-one. Looks younger. Lately I feel like she's getting kind of restless, you know what I mean? She wasn't a virgin when we got married but she was pretty close. Last week she was on her computer and I caught her switching screens really fast when I walked into the room. She's on one of those dating sites."

  "Did you ask her about it?"

  Ralph shook his head. "Nah. She'd talk her way out of it. She's a good talker. By the end of the conversation I'd feel like I was the one planning to cheat."

  "So you think your wife is looking for sex outside of your marriage, and to address this problem, you want to hire me to have sex with her?"

  "Yeah."

  Kirk considered the matter for a moment. "I suppose if she's going to take another lover anyway, you might as well pick the guy. It makes sense from that perspective. Are you looking for a one-night thing or would I be signing some kind of long-term contract?"

  "That's not where I was going with this."

  "Oh."

  "Julie is never going to know about our arrangement. You're going to seduce her, and she's going to think it's something that happened naturally."

  "Not gonna lie. The logic here is eluding me."

  "How are your pancakes?" Ralph asked.

  "They're good. Very good. Fluffy."

  "I'm picking up the check even if you turn down my offer, since I interrupted your meal."

  "That's very generous of you. I appreciate that."

  Ralph cleared his throat. "I'm going to lay this all out for you. I want you to approach my wife at a location to be determined later, woo her, bring her back to a hotel room that I'll pay for, and have unsatisfying sex with her."

  "Unsatisfying?"

  "Right. I want you to fumble around. I want you to paw at her breasts like a teenaged boy who doesn't know what the hell he's doing. Pinch her nipples too hard. Refuse to go down on her because it's icky. Act like you can't find the clitoris. Take forever to get hard, and then finish up in ten seconds when you finally do. In fact, if you can finish before you even slide in, that would be awesome. Come in her hair—she hates that. I want it to be a complete disaster of a sexual experience. If she ends up in bed with a guy like you—and I think we both agree that you look like you can fuck like a porn star—and it's an awkward, unsatisfying, embarrassing disappointment, she'll quit looking."

  Kirk just stared at him, his pancakes forgotten.

  "What do you think?" Ralph asked.

  "I need time to process this."

  "Want me to repeat it?"

  "No, no. God, no. How much time did you spend coming up with this plan?"

  "I just thought of it when I saw you sitting in this booth."

  "Maybe you should sleep on this."

  "I know it sounds crazy—"

  "Yep."

  "—but I truly believe that it'll work. You're her type. You're her exact type. Look at those muscles—you don't even need to flex them to see how big they are. Long dark hair? Check. Piercing blue eyes? Check. Your shirt's buttoned up too much but we'd fix that before the seduction. You look like you could be on the cover of a romance novel. Are you a fireman? A cowboy?"

  "I work retail."

  "How the hell does somebody who looks like you work retail?"

  "Attractive people can have shitty jobs too."

  "Well, you're not going to tell her that. We won't go with fireman or cowboy, because she reads those books non-stop and she'd know if you got a detail wrong, but we'll come up with a job that's credible but hot."

  "Bartender?"

  "That could work."

  "May I make a comment about your offer?" Kirk asked.

  "Sure."

  "It's fucked up. It is literally the most fucked up thing anybody has ever asked me to do. And I don't mean that it's slightly more fucked up than the most fucked up thing anybody has ever asked me to do, I mean that it's significantly more fucked up. If you'd come over here and asked me to kill your wife, that would've been less fucked up."

  "I disagree," said Ralph.

  "It would've been more evil, but less fucked up."

  "If you murdered her, you'd have sleepless nights of guilt. That's no small thing. I've never killed anybody but I assume it does a number on you."

  "I'm not talking about morality," said Kirk. "I'm talking about a state of being fucked up. An hour from now, when you reflect back on this conversation, you're going to say, 'Oh my God, I can't believe I approached that guy. How did the trajectory of my life bring me to that point?'"

  "You might be right."

  "I am. No way will you look back fondly on this encounter."

  "You're turning down a thousand bucks?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "You can't see them in the pi
cture, but her breasts are magnificent. Firm and unenhanced. There are far worse ways to make a grand. Technically, you should be paying me."

  "I'm sure they feel delightful," said Kirk. "I'd love the paycheck, but I'm not going to be scamming your wife into inept sex. It's just not something I was born to do. I wish you all the best in your search."

  "How about we revisit the issue tomorrow?" asked Ralph. "We'll exchange contact information and I'll be in touch in the morning to see if you've changed your mind."

  "Hard pass."

  "What would it hurt?"

  "It would mean that I gave my contact information to somebody who comes up to strangers eating pancakes and offers to pay them to bone his wife."

  "You make a fair point," Ralph admitted. "I knew it was weird when I came over here, but I figured the pay rate would outweigh that. A thousand bucks for sex where you don't even have to perform well. I guarantee you that if I went from person to person making that offer, almost every guy would accept."

  "Are you going to go from person to person making that offer?"

  "No."

  "Smart."

  "Anyway, I'll go back to my own table. Bring your check over when you finish and I'll pay for it."

  "You could just tell the server that you're buying my breakfast," said Kirk. "Then I wouldn't have to go over to your table."

  "Now you're being rude."

  "Rude would be telling you to fuck off."

  "Are you telling me to fuck off?"

  "Yes."

  Ralph went back to his own booth.

  Kirk couldn't believe it. What kind of mentally ill person would do that kind of thing? Did he really, truly, honestly believe that Kirk was going to say "Sure! Just point me in the direction of her vagina and I'm on the job!"? He couldn't even share this anecdote with his friends because nobody would believe it.

  A thousand bucks...

  It wouldn't solve his financial problems but it would put a dent in them. How much did a professional gigolo make? Surely it wasn't a thousand bucks for one session. He was between girlfriends, so it wasn't like he'd be cheating on anybody. (Myra, his friend with benefits, was prone to jealousy, even though that was supposed to be the opposite of how their relationship worked, but she'd get over it.) And if this plan did successfully dissuade Ralph's wife from seeking an online hookup, nobody had to worry that she'd end up bound and gagged in the trunk of somebody's car. He might be saving her life.

  Okay, once he started getting into excuses like "he might be saving her life," he was trying to delude himself. There would be nothing admirable about this gig if he took it.

  How had this become "if" he took it?

  A thousand bucks for an evening's work. He wouldn't enjoy the humiliation of the bad sex element, but there was still fun to be had with the task. Maybe he shouldn't be so quick to decline.

  Kirk got up and walked over to Ralph's booth. He sat down across from him. "Will you do fifteen hundred?"

  "No."

  "Twelve hundred?"

  "A thousand is already a ridiculously high price."

  "Eleven hundred?"

  "Honestly, this should be a minimum wage job."

  "I'm not doing it for less than eleven hundred," said Kirk.

  "If you'll do it for eleven hundred, you'll do it for a thousand."

  "If you'll pay a thousand, you'll pay eleven hundred."

  Ralph smiled. "I may just drop it to nine-fifty."

  "Okay, I'll give you my e-mail address."

  2

  Kirk sat naked on his couch with Myra straddling him. Normally he followed the "my eyes are up here" rule when speaking to a woman, but her bare breasts were right in his face, and to look up into her eyes would've given him a crick in his neck.

  "So this guy offered me a thousand bucks to sleep with his wife," he told her.

  Myra continued to bounce on his lap. "How much?"

  "A thousand."

  "That's a lot."

  "I know."

  "It would mean you're a prostitute."

  "Is that bad?" Kirk asked.

  Myra shrugged. "You'd be a high class call boy instead of a crack whore, but you're still a hooker. I'm sure not paying you."

  "I wouldn't ask you to."

  "What's the hubby planning to do? Wear a gimp suit and spank himself while he watches?" Myra put her hands on Kirk's shoulders as she continued riding him.

  "He's not going to be there."

  "Is it a birthday present for her?"

  "No."

  "Erectile dysfunction?"

  "He didn't say."

  "Just some perv?"

  "It's complicated."

  "You told him no, right?"

  "Yeah."

  "Do you wanna switch to doggy-style?" Myra asked.

  "I thought we were talking."

  "We can still talk."

  "Not while I'm doing you from behind."

  "We talk all the time when we're in doggy-style."

  "Not real conversations. I just ask if you like what I'm doing."

  "Well, since this discussion isn't about anything life-threatening, maybe it can wait until we're finished?"

  "All right, all right."

  Myra climbed off of him and then, staying on the couch, got on her hands and knees. Kirk grabbed her hips and thrust into her. She squealed with pleasure. They went at it without speaking for a couple of minutes.

  "What did he say when you told him no?" Myra finally asked.

  "He wanted my contact information."

  "I hope you didn't give it to him."

  "I gave him my e-mail address."

  Myra glanced back over her shoulder at him. "Why the hell did you do that?"

  "It's a thousand bucks."

  "You're gonna do it?"

  "No, probably not."

  "I can't believe you're considering it. Fuck me harder. Don't get yourself mixed up in this kind of crazy shit."

  Kirk began thrusting more vigorously. "It's a bad idea, but I need the money."

  "It's a terrible idea."

  "I know."

  "I can't believe I'm fuck-buddies with a guy who would consider something like that. Now you've spoiled the mood. Slap my ass to get it back."

  Kirk spanked her as he pounded away. He'd known Myra was going to be against the idea, and he wasn't sure why he'd brought it up in the first place. He was seeking reassurance about a decision that nobody would say was wise. When a guy like Ralph showed up at your table, you declined his offer. That's the way intelligent people behaved. There was no debating this matter.

  Still, it would be the first time in recent memory that he could pay more than the minimum on his credit card balances.

  Easy work. And he'd make sure it was only humiliating for him, not her.

  He couldn't believe he was actually considering this, but...he was.

  "Are you even concentrating back there?" Myra asked.

  Kirk gave her his full attention until she did her standard move of reaching back to finish herself off while encouraging him to thrust into her at maximum velocity and depth. After she came, he followed right away. They both collapsed onto the couch, out of breath.

  After Kirk walked out of the bathroom, having disposed of his condom, Myra already had her panties back on.

  "Leaving so soon?" he asked.

  "Was today a snuggle day? I thought those were Thursdays."

  "No, but you don't usually stampede out of here."

  "I'm not stampeding. I'm putting on clothes first. Have you seen my bra?"

  "By the door, I think."

  "Oh, thanks." Myra went over to the front door of his apartment. The bra was on the floor there because, as usual, there had been no real preamble before they got down to business. She bent over to pick it up, which was an arousing sight even though his hand had been on her naked ass mere moments before. Normally she would have played up the visual, but this time she just scooped up the bra and started to put it on.

  "Are you angry
?" Kirk asked.

  "Why would I be angry?"

  "The whole thousand dollars to fuck some guy's wife thing."

  "If you want to whore out your bod, it's your right."

  "See, that sounds like something an angry person would say."

  Myra returned to the couch for the rest of her clothes. "We have a no strings attached relationship. I can't stop you from doing weird spooky illegal stuff. I'm not jealous. I hope you have a good time and that she's very pretty. Maybe you'll luck out and her ass won't be exit-only."

  "Yeah, you're mad."

  "So I'm mad. So what? You're not my boyfriend. All I do is come over and fuck you twice a week. Your penis is yours to do with as you wish."

  "Would it help if I was being paid to be an awful lover?"

  Myra stopped in the process of tugging on her jeans. "Excuse me?"

  "He wants me to be inept. Do everything wrong. I think it's to make him look good by comparison."

  "That is really—"

  "—fucked up. I know."

  "Don't do any drugs while you're with her."

  "I never do drugs."

  "I know, but these are obviously the kind of people who do do drugs, and they're the kind of people you should most definitely not be doing drugs with." She finished wiggling into her jeans and put on her shirt.

  "I still haven't told him yes."

  "Good. You should tell him no."

  "Maybe I will."

  "Could you do me a huge favor, Kirk?"

  "Of course."

  "However this turns out, tell me that you didn't take the job. Look straight into my eyes and lie to me. Say 'Gosh, Myra, I realized that it was completely insane to even consider that idea, much less share it with you, and I told him no, absolutely not, not a chance, don't bother me again or I'll cut you.' Practice the lie in the mirror if you have to. There is no scenario where I want to know that you had gross sex with some deviant's wife. I don't want to lose what we've got here, but I couldn't let you touch me again knowing you'd been so icky. Keep me ignorant."

  "I get what you're saying," said Kirk. "But if I tell him no, and tell you I told him no, you'll think I could be lying."

  "I'd prefer that to knowing you said yes."