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mascara. The tight black skirt reached only to her knees and moulded her ass. It was obvious she wasn’t wearing panties. Under the shear white blouse the outline of her breasts was visible. As she’d been instructed, she’d painted her fingernails and toenails with a red polish that matched her lipstick. She had trouble walking in the four inch black leather pumps. At first she had to hold onto things. After practicing she was still unsteady but managed. Paul couldn’t believe the transformation. Neither could she. She studied her image in the full length mirror. “I look like a prostitute.” She felt the tears well up again, but held them back.
    Earlier, when he was rubbing her with the oil his cock had hardened. It hadn’t subsided. Looking at her now, he knew that he’d probably cum just by touching it. He’d hardly ever seen her naked and even then it was a quick glimpse in the darkened bedroom. He hadn’t fully realized what a splendid body she had; the tiny waist, the smallish but high and firm breasts, the long pink nipples, the firm apple-round ass, the muscled calves and tiny feet. He sat there seeing his wife for the first time, “No Ann, not a prostitute. Not that at all. You look like a young model or movie star.”
    She turned to look at him a flash of anger in her eyes, “My God, Paul! You read that...that obscene detestable contract. I’m to give myself to them....to black men. Isn’t that what prostitutes do?”
    Even though it was a warm and humid September evening, she took her long brown raincoat from the closet and buttoned it, pulling the belt tight. “I absolutely won’t go out in public looking like this,” she said. She glanced down at her bare feet in the stilettos and shook her head, “I don’t think I’ll ever learn to walk in these.” Paul put the folded contracts in his coat pocket.
    A half hour later they were once more in the reception office of “Watts Import Export Incorporated”. Rona, the receptionist, frowned seeing Ann was wearing a long raincoat. “Mr. Watts ain’t gonna like that,” she said, pointing at the coat. She pressed a button on her desk, “They’re here,” she said. The door behind her clicked. She gestured toward it. Paul pushed it open. Watts was behind his desk. Ms. Ying stood near the bar at the side of the room. If Watts was angry because of the raincoat, he didn’t show it. He pointed to the two chairs facing his desk. When they were seated he leaned forward, “So, you’ve decided?”
    Ann met his gaze. “We had no choice. It was either sign those hateful contracts or go to prison.”
    “Ahh, well yes.” He smiled at them. “To use an old cliché’, it seems you are between a rock and a hard place. I assume you have the contracts?”
    Paul nodded. “Please, Mr. Watts, isn’t there some other way? What if I just signed the business over to you and our house as well? We could go somewhere else and start over.”
    Watts chuckled, “Whatever would I do with a failing trucking operation that is deeply in debt to its stockholders? Why would I want your house? Think of it this way; your wife is in our service for ninety days. We are paying off your gambling debt of almost ninety thousand dollars. That’s like a thousand dollars a day. We are also obliged to rescue your business by paying back the stockholders you scammed. In addition, I’ve promised to rescue your bankrupt company and make it profitable again.” He paused narrowing his eyes and staring hard at them. “You come here disregarding my instructions.” He gestured toward Ann’s raincoat. “You come here talking about “hateful contracts”. You come here with a fucking superior attitude when you should be on your knees thanking me.” He waited a full minute letting his anger subside. “Now, sign the contracts and listen to what I have to say or don’t sign them and get out.”
    Paul looked at Ann who nodded. He placed both contracts on the desk. Watts pushed identical