Late-40s, Construction Worker

Part of Nicole's sleeplessness was arguing with herself as to how she should approach the next day. She had a hard time deciding between simply being ready, so wearing maybe panties and a top, or getting dolled up. Was ease of access more important than looking good for this strange man who would show up to use her? In the end, she decided that if she was truly free-use it would simply be part of her life. She'd likely go about her day as normal.

When she eventually rolled out of bed with maybe three hours of sleep she got ready for the day as if she was leaving her apartment to go into the office. She put on a nice skirt and a cute blouse and did her make-up and hair. The whole nine years. The main difference was she chose thigh highs and garters that would be too sexy for the office and a matching bra and panty set.

Looking in the mirror she sighs. "I hope he likes sexy business professional," she says to her reflection. Once she finishes getting ready she heads downstairs to the front door. It was a little bit before 8 a.m., so she flips open the blinds to see if a strange man is eagerly waiting outside. Her front stoop was empty. Unlocking the door, she heads back upstairs and digs in her junk drawer until she finds a key. She writes "key for my stranger" on an envelope. She hesitates before putting it in. Some rational thoughts drift through her brain. What if she ends up not being attracted to him? Or what if he's, well, not all that great at sex? Would she really want him coming back?

"Not my choice," she says to herself, putting the key in the envelope and sealing it. As she places it on the counter her phone alarm goes off signaling that it was 8 a.m. Now, she waits. Nicole heads upstairs to her bedroom which doubles as her work office. She let's her friends in the Discord chat know she's left the door unlocked and then pivots to try her best to focus on work.

It is impossible to focus. Every sound outside and inside of the house makes her jump. She knows when the front door eventually opens the motion alert will give three little chirps, but she still keeps thinking someone is downstairs. More than once she yells "hello?" and when no one answers "anyone here to fuck me?"

At lunch, she writes into the Discord chat:

WhoreFromHome: "Have you heard from him?"

ReverandBlueJeans: "we can't say, sorry."

Nicole growls to herself and closes the chat. Her anxiety is starting to make her feel annoyed. At 2 p.m. her frustration hits a whole new level. Coming up at 3 p.m. is one of her most important meetings of the day. It's blocked on her calendar, so she knows, that as long as this person follows the rules, he likely won't show up at that time. She starts to seriously consider he's going to be a no-show.

Finally, right at 2:30 p.m. when she's reviewing notes for the meeting, she hears the three chirps. She freezes. Footsteps downstairs. She looks at the clock again and curses under her breath. It's too close to her meeting! This can't be happening now. She quickly types in the Discord "he's here!" and goes to move toward the door but she's frozen in her seat. Will he be angry if he yells for him to leave? Too late, the footsteps are coming up the stairs.

She hadn't really thought this through. What is she supposed to do?

"Hello?" A gruff voice calls out, "where are ya hidin' slut? My balls are aching."

Nicole briefly puts her head in her hands and shakes her head. What was she thinking? She takes a deep breath and is about to call out when he enters her room. He's a large caucasian man wearing overalls and a flannel shirt. She guesses he's in his late-40s, maybe early-50s, but his skin has definitely seen many years under the sun. He has a big red, bushy beard and his matching head of hair is covered by a worn down, dirty Atlanta Braves ball cap. Most definitely not her type. She's speechless staring at the strange man in her apartment.

"Well, shit," he says and whistles. "Those folks on the Internet whorin' you out assured me you were a 20-somethin' cutie but I'll be honest I thought they were catfishin' me and you'd be fugly or a dude."

"Um...um..." Nicole stammers as he steps further into the room. She glances at the time again. Twenty-five minutes until her meeting and she really wouldn't mind telling this guy to leave. She was hoping for someone more her age. A Christian Grey type, to be honest.