About ten years ago, my husband, Donald, and I were going through a rough financial time, and he asked me to look for work. So, being the good wife, I started looking, and I just couldn't find anything worthwhile. Donald told me to sex up my wardrobe and really display my positive attributes. A week later, I landed a sales job, and it wasn't long before I realized sex sold. I would wine and dine my client, show a lot of cleavage, flirt like crazy, and if the sale was large enough maybe even a little bit more. Donald didn't know about the little bit more, but he liked the extra money. He told me he loved the way I dressed, liked my new confidence, and he even encouraged me to get a boob job. By my second year, I was making six figures, driving a BMW convertible, and doing whatever it took to keep my sales figures high. I loved the excitement, the money, and I really liked the power sex gave me. There were days I would have sex with a client in the afternoon and then meet another for dinner and end up closing the deal back in his hotel room. Donald maybe suspected that I was doing more than giving a great sales pitch, but he liked the money, and he never said a word about the odd hours I worked. I love meeting a new male client for the first time. I enjoy it as he checks out my generous cleavage and begins to flirt with me. After the first few minutes, it is never about my product but about him trying to sell himself to me. My marriage has never been better. Financially, we are doing great, and I have enough activity to keep me from being bored.