American MILF
A sleek black Bentley Brooklands pulled up to the curb. The driver’s side door opened, and Nora Madsen stepped out. The sound of her stiletto heels clicked on the pavement as she made her way to her office in Beverly Hills.
At the age of fifty-four, she had the looks of a woman ten years younger. Her hips swayed with a grace that made each step a deliberate and mesmerizing movement that drew the eyes of passersby. Her auburn hair cascaded down her shoulders in lustrous waves, contrasting beautifully with the emerald depths of her eyes that sparkled with ambition.
Nora became the most sought-after realtor through sweat, blood, and tears.
Despite her success, Nora felt a creeping sense of irritation, frustration, and stress. She felt the burden of the last few years pressing down on her. These past months had been a whirlwind of meetings, showings, and deals that had her juggling more properties than she cared to count.
Her phone rang in her Chanel handbag, and with a sigh that was a blend of annoyance and resignation, she fished it out.
“Yes, Morgan?” Nora answered.
American Milf Wife
“Hi, Mrs. Madsen. I just wanted to let you know that your 2:00 p.m. appointment is here.”
“I’m on my way up,” she replied before hanging up. “My God, I can barely get a breather,” she muttered, walking into the lobby.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss. The thrill of the deal had been replaced by a monotonous daily grind–like some kind of machine just going into autopilot.
She stepped into the elevator and smoothed her dress. She wanted to make sure every curve was accentuated. She took out a small mirror from her purse and fixed her lipstick. She didn’t only do it for her clients–Nora enjoyed the power that came with playing the part.
Her daughter and her husband kept telling her that it might be time for her to retire, but she had always loved her job.
American Milf Wife Story
The elevator doors parted, revealing the carpeted hallway that led to her corner office.
Thinking about what was to come made her feel uneasy. Was she truly ready to move on? Could she be at the height of her success one day–an ambitious business mogul–only to become an apple-pie-baking old lady the next day?
Nora shook her head. You’re overthinking again, Nora.
Nora walked through the large glass doors. Her assistant, Morgan, greeted her.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Madsen!” she chirped.
“Hi, Morgan,” Nora smiled. “Just give me a couple of minutes. I’ll let you know when to send the next clients in.”
“Of course, Mrs. Madsen.”
Nora went into her corner office, placed her purse inside her closet, and sat in her office chair. After a few minutes of gathering herself, fixing her hair, and taking a deep, centering breath, Nora picked up the phone and dialed Morgan’s extension.
“Morgan, go ahead and send them in.”
The door opened, and a tall man walked in. He seemed to be middle-aged, dressed in a tailored Armani suit and an AP watch that peeked from beneath his cuff, accompanied by a smug grin that screamed entitlement.
The woman was blonde and clearly younger than him, with over-highlighted hair and what looked like a little too much Botox. Nora’s eyes flickered down to the three-pearl bracelet on her right wrist and the pearl necklace that hung around her neck.
Usual Hollywood Couple.
“You must be, Nora Madsen?” he smirked.
“The one and only,” she smiled. “And you must be the McAlister’s?”
The man shook her hand with a grin across his face. “Tom McAllister,” he stated, “and this is my lovely wife, Stephanie.”
Nora forced a smile. She couldn’t help but notice the way Stephanie’s eyes lingered on her, sizing every inch of her. Her eyes seemed to linger on Nora’s breasts, which prompted Nora to arch her back to give her a full view of what she didn’t have.
Stephanie’s eyes traveled the length of Nora’s dress all the way down to her heels. Nora had seen that look countless times; it was a combination of envy and curiosity. She took no offense; she understood that in the pursuit of power and prestige, especially in L.A., everyone was busy sizing each other up.
Take a good look, sweetheart. There’s no plastic here… bitch. Nora muttered in her mind.
“Please take a seat.” Nora gestured towards the comfortable chairs facing the front of her large mahogany desk. “Can I get you something to drink? Water, coffee, tea, wine…”
“No, I’m good. Thanks,” Tom replied.
“Yes, I’m good as well,” Stephanie answered.
Nora sat down at the head of the table, her posture as impeccable as her makeup. “Very well… So, what can I do for you today?” she asked.
Tom’s gaze flickered from Nora’s cleavage to her face. The way he looked at her made Nora’s skin crawl.
Fucking pig.
Tom leaned back in his chair. “Well,… we’re looking for something… unique. Something that screams ‘Hollywood’ without being too over the top.”
Something that screams ‘Hollywood’ without being too over the top… What the fuck does that mean? We’re in Hollywood, dumbfuck; everything is always over the top. Nora thought, but she was no stranger to some of the ridiculous asks of her clients.
She nodded with a fake smile. “I think I might have just the place. This is an exclusive property in Hollywood Carson Hills, with a stunning view and all the amenities you could ever want. It’s a mix of classic with just the right touch of modern.”
“It’s… magnificent,” Stephanie breathed, her boredom momentarily forgotten as she stared at all the luxury.
Nora straightened her posture, arching her back just enough. Tom’s eyes flickered downward, drawn to the soft swell of her breasts. The wife was completely oblivious to the exchange happening just mere feet away from her.
Nora wore a sleek dark blue dress by Nina Ricci. It hugged her figure in all the right places while keeping a classic style. The dress highlighted her age-defying curves that had been meticulously maintained through countless tennis matches, yoga, and Pilates sessions. The neckline was low enough to offer a glimpse of her delicious cleavage.
Nora could see the way Tom’s eyes roamed over her body. In true L.A. fashion, it didn’t even matter that his wife was sitting next to him.
She had long ago discovered that when dealing with sleazy men like Tom, a hint of cleavage could easily turn a “maybe” into a “yes.”
“How much do they want for the house?” Stephanie inquired.
“The property is listed for 27 million dollars. If I’m not mistaken, there are already three potential buyers in line, and one of them has already submitted an offer.”
Nora handed Tom a brochure with more details about the property. “Mr. McAllister, this property is more than just a home,” she said in a sultry voice. “It should be a statement to your success,…don’t you think?”
Stephanie snatched the brochure from Nora’s grasp. “Oh…my…GOD, TOM!” she shrieked, her eyes wide like a kid in a candy store. “Oh, my fucking GOD! Tom, this is it! We have to buy it!”
Poor Tom was still drooling over Nora.
“We can visit the property next week if you’d like Mr. McAllister,” Nora smiled, and she leaned closer, her perfume mingling with the scent of his cologne.
Tom cleared his throat. “Ye-Yes. I-I think this is it. It’s Hollywood, but not too over the top.”
Moron… “Perfect!” Nora grinned. “We can meet next week. How about Tuesday at 10?”
“Yes!” Stephanie nodded.
Nora leaned back in her chair, a triumphant smile playing on her lips at another deal sealed. After the door clicked shut, Nora leaned back into her chair, rubbing her temples.
The thrill she once felt was gone.
She glanced at the clock on her computer. It was 2:55 p.m. With sudden decisiveness, she stood up, her heels clicking against the floor as she rounded the desk. “I’ve had enough,” she murmured to herself, snatching her purse. “I need to get the fuck out of here.”
Morgan looked up in surprise as Nora stormed past. “Mrs. Madsen, is everything alright?”
“I’m leaving.”
“Excuse me?”
Nora froze and turned around. “I said. I’m leaving.”
“But… but what about your meeting at 3:30?” Morgan asked.
“Cancel it.”
“But…”
“Morgan!” Nora snapped but held herself back. Morgan was just doing her job. “Morgan, listen to me. You’re going to cancel that fucking meeting. I don’t give two fucks who it is, what they want, or if they get upset. You’re going to call them and tell them I’m not available and that they have to reschedule. Understood?”
“Yes, Mrs. Madsen.” Morgan nodded, clearly noticing that her boss was not in the mood.
“I’m leaving for the day because if I don’t, I’m gonna go insane.” Nora turned back around and hurried down to the elevator. “You can leave for the day, too,” she called out over her shoulder.
As she settled into the plush leather of her Bentley, she let out a deep sigh, trying to calm herself before driving back home.
Her phone buzzed again. “Goddammit!” she growled, tossing it in her bag. The engine purred to life, and she pointed the car towards her mansion in Windsor Hills.
Nora couldn’t wait to kick off her stilettos and feel the cool marble of her mansion’s floor beneath her feet. The thought of a chilled Martini was the only thing keeping her from ripping her hair out.
Nora pulled into the driveway.
Once inside, she quickly tossed her purse onto the gleaming marble table in the grand foyer with a thud. The heels she’d been wearing for hours were next, flying off her feet and landing with a clatter by the stairs. She let out a sigh of relief, her toes stretching and curling on the cool surface.
“God, I need to get fucked,” she muttered, running her fingers through her hair as she made her way to the kitchen. Perhaps a toe-curling orgasm was all she needed to cut through all that pent-up stress and frustration that seemed to cling to her like a second skin, but with her husband miles away playing golf, having an orgasm was nothing more than a mere thought.
Nora’s husband, Harry, had been the city’s golden boy of cardiology. However, unlike Nora, he knew it was time to retire and leave the world of medicine behind. Two days ago, he’d packed his clubs and disappeared to Florida to a country club with his friends, leaving Nora with nothing but a kiss on the cheek and a promise to call.
Harry had always been a good man, but his interest in the physical side of their relationship had waned. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of resentment at the thought that he was no longer interested in her.
A small, wry smile tugged at her lips as she contemplated the bottle of Belvedere Vodka.
Mr. Belvedere would keep her company for the time being.
Nora took a long sip of her martini. The icy liquid trickled down her throat, spreading a warmth that washed over her body. She closed, savoring the moment, letting the drink take the tension off her stressed muscles.
However, her much-needed moment of solitude was shattered by the shrill of her cellphone. Nora’s eyes snapped open. She gritted her teeth, ready to throw her phone against the wall. As she reached over to silence it, she stopped reading her daughter’s name across the screen.
With a resigned sigh, she swiped to answer. “Hi, sweetheart,”
“Hi, Mom!” Sophie beamed.
Nora flinched–even her daughter’s bubbly voice irked her at that moment. “Mom, are you okay? Morgan told me you left the office early.”
Nora frowned. “She told you?”
“I called her because I thought you might be in a meeting with a client,” Sophie replied, “but she told me you had left for the day.”
“I see… I’m fine, Sophie. I-I just needed a little break.”
“Mom, you’re working too hard. Don’t you think it’s time… to, you know,… just relax and maybe retire? You need to take better care of yourself.”
“Sophie,” Nora sighed. “Please don’t start with that again.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know that you don’t like hearing it, but that’s not why I’m calling you. I’m calling because I have a surprise for you!”
Nora closed her eyes, exasperation brimming. She loved her daughter more than anything but just wanted to be left alone for a little while.
“What’s the surprise, dear?”
“Well, I made a few calls and managed to book a massage for you!” Her voice bubbled with enthusiasm over the phone.
American Milf Wife Story 1
“Oh, a massage?” Nora’s eyes widened in surprise. She had expected something like a ‘girl’s day’ or some other bullshit.
“Yes! The therapist should be there in like 20 minutes.”
“Wait, wait, wait. What? They’re coming here?!”
“Yes. The Melrose Spa in Beverly Hills offers at-home visits. I thought you wouldn’t want to go out, so I booked it for you at your home. The appointment is at four, so go change! The girl’s name is Hailey, by the way.”
“Okay, okay.” Nora chuckled. “I’ll go change.”
“Call me afterward. I want to know how it went.”
“Sure, I’ll call you darling.” Nora smiled. “Thank you so much.”
“You deserve it, Mom. OK, bye. Love you!”
“Love you too, dear.”
Nora downed the rest of her martini and quickly made her way up to her room. Once inside her room, she quickly peeled off her dress, tossing it to the side along with her thong and bra.
American Milf Wife Story 1
