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I mentioned if I had a boyfriend in Part 2. In fact, about three years ago I did. We met at a Yankee game. I’m a big fan and have seats right behind the dugout. I should probably tell you that ball players are big fans of mine, too.

Many ball players are married but their families live in one place during the school year and then once school’s out join their husbands in New York. That means those young, wealthy ball players are looking for love and affection the rest of the season.

They go out after a game and might get lucky. I don’t have to tell you, I’m a sure thing.

Anyhow, I was at a game and there was a foul ball. It bounced near me and I scrambled for it with this guy. In the end I let him have it. I mean, I had a lot of ball players’ balls, right.

“Thank you. The least I can do is buy you a beer.”

“That’s very kind of you but unnecessary.”

“I insist. My name is Wendell Stafford, and I’m not talking about a beer here at the game. How about a beer after the game?”

I didn’t have a date on my calendar, so Wendell became my date. I told him my real name and we took a cab to a nice bar in mid-town.

He was a nice guy, but I wasn’t going to sleep with him. At least not yet. He was in commercial real estate, And I lied and told him that I was a financial consultant. You didn’t think I was going to tell him what I really did, did you?

It was more than beer; a couple of cocktails in fact. It was a nice evening; he paid for my cab home to Brooklyn and asked for my phone number. I gave it to him.

You have to understand, a girl like me has a business phone and a personal phone. He got my personal phone number.

I was surprised when he called me. We had a date the following week; I cleared my schedule.

It was on our third date that Wendell invited me to his apartment. Yes, I was going to sleep with him.

You know I’m a good actress; I have to be. That night with Wendell, I was a very good actress. Not a virgin, but somewhat inexperienced. That’s harder than you think. I had to be good enough for him to want to fuck me again, but not so good that he’d think I was some kind of slut or a professional.

Oh yeah, no blowjob; not our first time together.

Wendell and I stayed together for almost a year. I’m sure that Wendell thought I got better and better. The first time he asked for a blowjob, “Wendell, I haven’t done this too often; don’t expect too much.”

It got more difficult to pretend when we 69’d the first time. He insisted. Wendell knew how to do my clitoris just right. Even I can’t act when I’m having a real honest to goodness orgasm which of course didn’t happen very often.

The 69 thing was why we broke up.

On our next date when we started, “I’d love to eat your pussy. Last time, it was so sweet.” I just had to tell him the truth. I mean, I know that guys don’t want to eat pussy that some other guy just fucked.

Just last night, I had a busy night. Five guys all wanted to fuck. No blowjobs. That was unusual. I mean, on a normal night I’d have two, maybe three clients, and there would be one or two fucks mixed in with a blowjob.

It just happened. When a good client wants a specific date or time, I

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